CHAPTER ELEVEN
Leah wished she hadn’t walked to the Jofra Arms at ten to make sure Fraser wasn’t waiting for her, because he was. Although she knew she could have made the excuse of having a hangover and being too ill for a trip to Goatland, it seemed rude, so she steeled herself and tried to sound enthusiastic as she bid him good morning.
It was a steep climb up to the farm in his rattly old Land Rover and now that she had arrived, all she could see was goats. The wretched hairy things were everywhere. Brown ones, white ones, piebald ones, some with horns, some without. Grey goats with beards, speckled goats with huge udders, all with evil-looking yellow eyes with strange horizontal black bars across them; devils’ eyes, that made her think, for some reason, of Patrick Leman.
There was
