Date with Danger by Julia Chapman

Author:Julia Chapman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan UK

18

There were two bow-top caravans in the clearing, the fronts brightly painted, reds and yellows vibrant against the green of the roof. The furthest one had its doors closed but the one nearest had them thrown open, the curtains behind gently swaying in the breeze. Two horses were tethered at the far side of the clearing, and parked beyond them was a livestock transporter, more than big enough to hold a flock of sheep.

‘Look!’ exclaimed Nathan, pointing at the truck.

‘Makes you wonder if Clive Knowles was on to something,’ murmured Delilah.

The lad’s eyes widened. ‘Do you think the Gypsies are the thieves, then?’

‘Ever heard of “innocent until proven guilty”?’ muttered Samson. He approached the nearest caravan, smoke swirling into the blue sky from its chimney. ‘Hello?’ he called out, peering into the darkness beyond the curtains. ‘Anyone home?’

There was the sound of movement and then the curtains parted to reveal a young woman, dark hair lying on her shoulders, eyes smouldering, long legs tanned beneath denim shorts, her T-shirt giving testament to the unseasonably warm day. She was stunning, tearing Nathan’s attention from the truck.

‘Hi,’ said Samson. ‘Just want to ask a few questions if you have time.’

‘Not sure I do.’ The woman’s eyes danced with mischief.

‘Fair enough.’ Samson smiled. A smile Delilah knew well, for it had melted her heart on many an occasion. He tipped his head in the direction of the horses grazing in the sunshine. ‘Beautiful cobs you have there.’

The woman’s face softened, lips curving, every bit as potent as Samson’s. ‘They’re beautiful all right. Not many of you settled people know the breed.’

Samson shrugged. ‘My grandmother was a Traveller, over in Ireland. I was raised on stories about them. My father even toyed with the idea of breeding them at one point but . . . things took a different turn.’

‘Want a closer look?’ The woman was stepping down to the ground, already walking towards the horses. ‘I’m Kezia, by the way.’

‘Samson O’Brien.’ Samson shook the offered hand. ‘And this is Delilah Metcalfe and her nephew, Nathan.’

Kezia threw a nod over her shoulder.

‘You taking them to the fair at Appleby?’ Samson asked as they approached the horses.

‘That’s the idea.’ Kezia held out a hand to the nearest, a piebald somewhere between the height of a pony and a shire horse, its mane a luxuriant white cut through with a wide stripe of black, thick feathering on its lower legs. Sturdy yet graceful, it was a gorgeous animal and came straight over to them.

‘You’re a softie, aren’t you?’ murmured Samson, running a hand down the side of the horse’s head. Nathan joined him, stroking the mane and flank.

Delilah hung back, aware of Tolpuddle on his lead, the dog’s nose twitching left and right at the many exotic scents. And then the Weimaraner started barking.

If Tolpuddle had still been partly asleep for the journey out to Selside, ripped from his sweet dreams of running on the fells with rabbits bounding ahead of him, getting out of the car in the clearing woke him up.

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