The Case of the Missing Bridegroom: A collection of short stories: Romantic, Historical, Humorous and Mystery. by Harris Dawn

Author:Harris, Dawn [Harris, Dawn]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2016-04-11T04:00:00+00:00

Later, dancing to Lady in Red, I asked Murray, ‘How tall are you exactly?’

‘Six foot, six and a half inches.’

I sighed. ‘It’s wonderful not to be looking over the top of a man’s head.’

Chuckling, he said, ‘It’s great for me too. Most women don’t even reach my shoulder.’ And he rested his cheek cosily against mine.

Mum popped in early the following morning for a progress report, and casually remarked, ‘Did you know a Vestor once owned Hill Farm?’

‘But that’s derelict now, isn’t it?’

‘True, but Murray doesn’t know that,’ she pointed out conspiratorially. ‘It’s in a glorious spot. Isolated too.’ And she rolled her eyes at me.’ Well, you can’t afford to waste time, can you?’

So I drove Murray high into the hills. He accepted the derelict state of the Vestor farmhouse quite philosophically, commenting, ‘It certainly suggests that Jeremiah came back from America. Now all we have to do is find his descendants.’

While he took a closer look at the farmhouse, I quickly disconnected the battery leads. Well, there was no point spending the day looking for his long-lost relatives. I knew where they were. And once Murray had that information, he’d made it perfectly clear he intended to leave town, never to return.

When the car refused to start, he eyed me roguishly. ‘Have we run out of petrol?’

‘Of course not,’ I laughed innocently. ‘Um --- do you know anything about cars?’

‘Not a thing,’ he responded cheerfully. ‘Do you?’

I could strip down an engine faster than most, but I shook my head. ‘Sorry.’

He leaned back in his seat, perfectly relaxed, hands behind his head. ‘I suppose we’d better phone a garage.’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’ I searched my bag for my mobile, but it wasn’t there because I’d deliberately left it at home. ‘It’s not here,’ I said, pretending to be exasperated.

‘And mine’s back at the hotel.’

That was fortunate. ‘Never mind. There’s a garage at the next village. It’s only five miles over the hills.’ I glanced at him and he smiled, an unreadable expression in his eyes. ‘Don’t worry, it’s easy walking.’

The sun shone from a clear blue sky, and we walked along chatting with the ease of old friends, with nothing to distract us from the beauty of the hills and patchwork of stone walls, except for the occasional sounds of birds and sheep. The longer I spent with Murray, the more convinced I was that this was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

At about half way we stopped to rest a while, and when I stretched out in the sun, he actually leaned over and kissed me lightly on the lips. Now that’s what I call progress!

We arranged for the garage to pick up my car, had a late, leisurely lunch in a cosy pub, and wandered around the gardens of a local manor house, before picking up the car again.

‘A lead had come adrift,’ I told Murray casually. Driving back to town, I suggested, ‘Let’s see if Felix has knocked down

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