Free Vintage by Olivia Darling Page A

Kelly could see was the mud that lay between her and the house.
    “I want to go back to London,” she said.
    There was one person at Froggy Bottom who really did hope that Kelly went back to London. Guy Harcourt had been running the vineyard for the past three years. He couldn’t believe the girl’s luck. In Guy’s opinion, she had inherited one of the best vineyards in Europe.
    Guy had come to England from South Africa. He was passionate about grapes. At just twenty-three he had far more knowledge than many men twice his age. It was largely because he was so young that old man Dougal had taken Guy on, thinking he would be able to pay him half the wages of someone more experienced. Guy didn’t mind. It was worth the pay cut to be able to run the vineyard his way, without any interference.
    And so, as far as Guy was concerned, the best-case scenario (after the old man leaving the vineyard to him) was that it should go to someone fairly disinterested, so that he could continue to experiment without having to justify himself.
    He was hugely relieved when he discovered that old Dougal Mollison had not left the vineyard to his legitimate children (they had to make do with the enormous house in Norfolk and the Scottish shooting lodge with its associated fishing rights). But he didn’t expect the illegitimatechild to be any more exciting. He certainly didn’t expect her to be beautiful.
    It took a rare vision to notice that Kelly Elson was beautiful behind the cheap makeup and tight ponytail that showed off her thrice-pierced ears to perfection. The ring through her nose distracted from its snub prettiness, and as for her attitude … it was very hard to notice the elegance of Kelly’s heart-shaped face when she jutted her chin out so belligerently.
    “I’m your new boss,” she said to Guy when Hilarian introduced them. “You better impress me.”
    They were off to a very bad start.
    “There is no way this is going to work,” Kelly said to herself as Hilarian led her into the farmhouse that he referred to as her “new home.” For a start it was far from new.
    “The original building dates from the sixteenth century,” Hilarian explained. “The outhouses were built in the eighteenth. It’s been in your father’s family all that time.”
    The place was disgusting. The ceilings were low. The windows were tiny. It was dark and smelled of mildew. The furniture was ancient too. Kelly saw no point to antiques. The three-piece suite in the sitting room made her mother’s settee look positively smart. Neither did the inglenook fireplace impress her.
    “You mean like you have to light a proper fire if you want to sit in here in the winter?”
    “Yes,” said Hilarian. “Or in the summer. It does get chilly out here. But I think it’s rather romantic.”
    “Filthy,” Kelly said. Not to mention labor intensive. The rest of the tour confirmed her worst fears. There wasn’t a radiator in the place. There was no dishwasher in the kitchen. The washing machine was on its last legs. Hilarian merely laughed when she asked about a tumbledryer. There was no shower in the single bathroom. Kelly turned on a tap full blast and was rewarded with a trickle of cold brown water. How could anyone live like this? Kelly certainly didn’t intend to.
    Guy was in charge of the tour of the winery.
    “Let’s start with the vineyard itself,” he said.
    “You’ve got to be fucking joking,” said Kelly. “In these boots?” She indicated the dagger-sharp heels. “It ain’t happening.”
    “We must have a pair of wellies around here somewhere,” said Hilarian. He went back into the farmhouse and returned with a pair of green Hunters. “Bit big,” he said. “But we’re not going to walk far. These must have been your father’s,” he added.
    “What? You want me to wear a dead person’s shoes?” Kelly was incredulous. “You are having a laugh. Fuck off!”
    So they didn’t go up to the vineyard. Instead they stayed on the