Free The Pleasures of Spring by Evie Hunter

dress, and being knocked onto the ground in a battle scene.
    By the time the light faded, she was aching in every limb, and covered in mud. ‘Where’s the nearest shower?’ she asked.
    Cheyenne, who turned out to be more approachable than Roz had expected a Hollywood star to be, grinned. ‘You can use the one in my trailer.’
    Roz gratefully accepted, and spent fifteen minutes scrubbing off the filth of a night on the ferry as well as a day fighting in the mud. By the time she emerged from the tiny bathroom, she finally felt human again.
    ‘Wow, you look a lot more like me than I realized,’ Cheyenne exclaimed, eyeing her slicked-back wet hair. ‘I bet if you were dressed like me, we could pass for sisters.’
    Roz felt a pang. She already had a sister, one she had spent most of her life hating, but there was something appealing about the thought of having a sister she liked. ‘Unless you plan on wearing black jeans and T-shirt, we’re out of luck,’ she told Cheyenne. ‘I managed to lose my luggage and I’m down to the clothes I’m standing in.’
    ‘Why didn’t you tell me? You can borrow some of mine.’ The actress scooped a bundle of clothes out of her wardrobe and shoved them into Roz’s arms.
    ‘No, I …’ Roz stopped herself. She was so used to relying on herself and not accepting help from anyone that she was in danger of being stupid. She did need a change of clothes, and these looked as if they would fit, even ifthey were ridiculously out of place for the muddy Irish countryside. One blouse had a price tag attached. It read $800. Roz swallowed. Who paid that much money for a blouse?
    ‘Only for a day or two,’ she said. ‘And I’ll dry clean everything before I return it.’
    ‘Don’t be silly. Designers send me stuff to wear all the time. Those are the things I don’t like. Keep them. And here, you’ll need these too.’ Cheyenne tossed a handful of lingerie on top of the pile of clothes.
    ‘Thank you,’ Roz said. Exhaustion was catching up on her, but she knew what she had to do. ‘Maybe tomorrow night we could ride into the local town and pretend to be sisters?’
    Cheyenne clapped her hands, and Roz made her escape to meet Frankie.
    It was dark and most of the extras had left for home. Roz supposed she could have gone into the town and found a cheap hotel or guest house, but the long rutted driveway to the castle gate wasn’t appealing at the best of times, and definitely not in the dark.
    Besides, while her credit card was a pre-pay in a false name, there was no point leaving any sort of money trail. ‘Can I stay here?’ she asked Frankie.
    ‘Sure thing, pet. There are three stunt women sharing a trailer, or you can bunk in with me. I’ve got a small caravan to myself.’
    ‘With you.’ Her answer was automatic. She was pretty sure Hall hadn’t managed to track her to Ireland, much less a castle in the middle of nowhere, but he was too damn good for her to take chances. The thought of a bunch ofactresses taking on a ruthless killer made her shudder. Hall had tracked her down to the food bank. She couldn’t put anyone else in danger.
    Frankie was close-mouthed about his own past, but she had a good idea that at least some of it had been in the military. He had a much better chance of looking after himself.
    Besides, she had spent so much of her life travelling around, leaving her home at short notice to start up somewhere else, that she had little experience of spending time with other people. She’d never had normal friends or done girly chat. She’d never had a sleepover, swopping clothes and make-up and tales of bad boyfriends.
    Roz didn’t think she’d be able to handle that much time with other women. What did girls talk about? she wondered. For all she knew, they lay in bed discussing books they had read – and that she had not.
    Frankie pointed to his caravan, and she climbed in, wincing as it tipped under her weight. It was ruthlessly neat, with a single glass