Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama), Carole Williams [ebook reader 8 inch .TXT] 📗

down to the stables, her mind in turmoil, having seen the protective way in which Richard ushered his guest, Miss Barrett upstairs, his eyes never straying from the neat little figure and her perfectly shaped oval face with eyes of a somewhat fascinating colour.  Delia couldn’t make out whether they were blue, green, or brown.  Hazel, she supposed, was the correct term.  Then there was the pert little nose and brilliantly white teeth, all topped off with a crop of thick, honey coloured hair.  It was obvious Richard was besotted by the blasted female and this latest turn of events could pose one hell of a problem.

Delia skirted the stables and headed down towards the lake where she could sit and think without being disturbed.  She reached the spot where she had sat that day after trashing Simon Parfitt’s car and threw herself on the grass, just as she had then; although this time there were no tears.  She was too angry and worried to cry.  Yet again, just as it had all those years ago, her world was crashing down around her at an alarming rate and she didn’t know what to do to stop it.  It was necessary to take stock and think.

Ducks and swans were searching for food further up the lake and so far, weren’t aware of her presence otherwise they would have descended on her quickly, hoping she had brought some titbits.  The blue sky above was cloudless; the foliage on the trees waved slightly in the warm breeze and the magnificent rhododendrons in full bloom looked stunning,

Pushing the crushing misery at Philip’s rejection to the back of her mind and trying hard to ignore the hard knot of pain in her heart, she thought about what needed to be done at Canleigh.  It was essential to speak to Richard as soon as possible.  She had to get him on her side regarding the estate manager’s job before she tackled Father … and there wasn’t much time.  In forty-eight hours, Richard would be zooming back to Oxford with that silly female.  Not that she was so silly, Delia surmised.  The woman was obviously clever, worming her way into his affections.  Delia knew perfectly well Richard wasn’t usually a pushover where women were concerned, being level headed and able to spot a fortune hunter a mile away.  Something must have gone wrong this time.  Miss Barrett’s charms had certainly worked wonders on the Marquess of Keighton.  She was the first woman he had ever brought back to Canleigh … and with their father in situ too.  She must be something incredibly special and the threat had to be taken seriously.  Whatever happened Richard mustn’t marry and move back to Canleigh for a long time, at least not until Delia was firmly entrenched as estate manager and had time to prove her worth.

Delia put her head in her hands and groaned.  There was also Vicky and this Barrie chap she was so enraptured with.  It was going to be a traumatic weekend watching her siblings drooling over their partners while she … a tear threatened to fall and the sharp searing pain she was becoming used to drove through her heart at the thought of Philip and what he had done to her.  She ached for him, for his presence, his guidance, his thoughtfulness.  He had been her rock for nearly all her life and it was crucifying knowing her place in his affections was replaced by another.  She still couldn’t take in what had happened and how her life had dramatically changed in such a short space of time.  One minute she was about to be married to the man she had always wanted and then, without any prior warning whatsoever, she wasn’t.

Sadness filled Delia’s soul; a terrible, terrible sadness, not unlike when Granny died but then Philip, Constance and Ralph were there to help fill the void.  Now there was no-one to turn to.  Ever since Philip's cruel rejection a great ball of hurt had wrapped itself around her heart and wasn’t getting any better.  If anything, it was growing more intense and there was no outlet for it as she couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone, hoping upon hope Philip would see sense and change his mind.  The wedding, therefore, as far as she was concerned was still on.  Nothing had been cancelled.  No one in the family had been told because at any moment he might roar back up the drive and tell her it was all a ghastly mistake, it had all been pre-wedding nerves and of course he still wanted to marry her.  He would say that no other woman could fill her place, especially with the business … the horses … all the things they shared a passion for.  He had suffered temporary madness.  There was no way he could run things successfully without her by his side.  He wanted her, needed her, desired her … especially in the bedroom.

Delia smiled wryly.  During the last few years she had read every book she could find on making love, wanting her marriage to always be exciting and to keep the passion alive until they were both too old to care anymore.  There was hardly a day went by without a sexual encounter between them; Delia grabbed Philip in the stables or the office when the stable hands were busy but could find them at any moment and the fields and woods were regular romping grounds.  In the house, she dressed up for him, sometimes as a maid, sometimes a nurse, at others in a skimpy playsuit with stockings and suspenders.  Delia loved it.  Once the experimentation started, she was hooked and couldn’t get enough.  She craved for Philip, for his body, his smell, his hands.  She wanted him so very, very much.  She certainly couldn’t cope with celibacy.

She stood up abruptly.  It was no good.  She had to see him.  She had to go