The Wishing Well

by Jilly Bowling

  Changing the subject he eventually made her laugh with some of the local gossip, and slowly the bitterness retreated, and the kind trusting Bella peeped out again. After lunch they carried the sideboard out to the open barn and sanded it down. The wood on the top surface glowed warmly and the lovely grain appeared, but the bottom shelf would have needed too much wood taken off to get rid of the deep stains on it so Bella decided to paint it along with the legs and drawers. As there was still plenty of time left in the afternoon, Roman helped her cut and make the shelves for above it, and once the wood was waxed helped her attach them to the wall.

  Her sadness and bitterness forgotten, she laughed and joked with him as if they were old friends and she found herself falling even more under his spell.

  As for Roman he was amazed and slightly nervous about how he felt about her. The perennial bachelor, who an awful lot of women had tried to snare, was becoming dangerously attracted to this feisty, capable but fragile woman. With the afternoon drawing to a close, they cleaned up and put the tools they’d used away and he reluctantly took his leave. He had a meeting that evening that he just couldn’t put off any longer and he needed some time away from her to sort out his head.

  Bella too needed time to think so after they’d shared a gentle lingering kiss goodbye, she ran a bath and soaked in it while she tried to sort out her thoughts and feelings. By the time she climbed into bed, she was no further forward, but that night she had the dream again and woke in a cold sweat determined not to let her heart rule her head.

  * * *

  Apart from a short text on the Saturday morning, saying that he’d pick her up at six forty five, Bella didn’t hear from or see Roman. Unable to make up her mind whether she was grateful or disappointed about that, she threw herself into clearing out the old lean to. After she’d sorted the junk, that had accumulated there, into keep, car boot or dispose of boxes, it looked a great deal larger, and to her delight when she scraped the old mud and dirt off the floor it turned out to be tiled in the original six inch brick red tiles.

  By the time she paused to look at the clock, in the kitchen, it was five thirty and she was covered in cobwebs and dirty and sweaty. She downed tools, carried the three heavy boxes she’d filled, to the barn, the box of papers up to the attic room, and rushed into the bathroom to get ready. As the bath filled she made herself a mug of tea, and after sprinkling Lucy’s bath salts liberally into the water gratefully sank into it, mug in hand.

  The warmth of the water lulled her and she dozed, only jerking awake as her mug tipped and spilt hot tea down her cleavage. In a panic she washed her hair and body, drained her tea and climbed out of the bath. Then she realised that she hadn’t shaved her legs or underarm, so sitting on the toilet she quickly dry shaved them.

  Her hair was in a worse tangle than usual and just wouldn’t lie flat, so she gave up on a smart sleek image and went for the wild gypsy look, that actually suited her better. However because Gervaise had always insisted on straight hair or a smooth chignon, she always felt that her wild hair just looked a mess. Shrugging her shoulders she decided that, as she wasn’t out to impress anyone, it didn’t matter. Slapping on her makeup, as she had done pre- Gervaise, she ended up looking like a gypsy queen, the big hoop earrings adding to the look.

  When she slipped into the new white bra and panties she grimaced as she realised that it had been awhile since she’d waxed, and short auburn curls were visible through the delicate lace. Then she laughed and found herself blushing as she asked herself who she expected to see them.

  `No one is going to get that close to me in a long long time,` she sternly told herself, `once bitten, twice shy!`

  Then there was the sound of a car pulling up on the gravel, so in a panic she stepped into the dress and underskirt, slipped on her pretty, flat ballet pumps, and after pushing a hankie and door key into one pocket and a twenty pound note into the other rushed to the front door, just as there was a rat-a-tat -tat on the knocker.

  As she pulled the door open, Roman took a step back, and the look on his face gave her pause “What?” she hurriedly checked her dress and hair then asked, “am I dressed wrongly?”

  Roman swallowed and ran his tongue around his suddenly dry mouth. “No, you look amazing. What have you done with Bella the scruffy decorator?”

  Bell giggled “I left her around the side of the bath. I turn back into her at midnight.”

  Roman stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, kissing her soundly, then he stood back and holding her hands in his said “And she doesn’t even say, mind my hair, lipstick or dress.”

  “So I’ll do, will I?”

  “You’ll more than do. Where has all that hair come from?”

  Bella pulled a face. “It wouldn’t go flat and I didn’t have time to mess with it, I’ve been cleaning out the lean to.”

  “Why would you want that glorious mane to go flat?”

  “It’s the fashion, Ger- um, I was told that it looked awful like this.”

  “Whoever said that is bonkers. It’s you, your whole personality is like your hair.”

  “Perhaps they didn’t like my personality,” Bella said ruefully.

  “Then he was an idiot,” Roman pulled her to him for another kiss, which left her dizzy and breathless. “We’d better go, or we won’t be going anywhere,” he went on as he took her arm and led her to the car.

  To her surprise they got into the back, the door being held open for her by an older man.

  “This is George, handyman, chauffeur and general aide.” Roman told her as he walked around to the other side and climbed in beside her.

  “I didn’t know you had a chauffeur.”

  “If I want a drink, I need one. It’s a young farmer’s bash which means you can’t avoid a glass or two.”

  “Ah, very sensible,” Bella grinned.

  “Mmm, sometimes.” Roman looked out of the window wondering what the hell he was doing. This woman was turning his life upside down.

  They chatted easily as they were driven through Widecombe and onto a long single track road, along with several other cars. Ahead of them their destination became visible, lit up with lanterns and fairy lights, as through the open windows the smell of barbecued meat wafted across their taste buds. Loud music was pounding out already, ensuring that none of the wild Dartmoor ponies would wander into the proceedings.

  As Roman held the door open for her, people were already greeting him, and when she climbed out there were a dozen pairs of eyes gazing at her speculatively. Turning to a couple who had walked over to greet him Roman introduced her, telling her that John and Rachel owned the farm where the dance was taking place.

  “So you’ve moved into Lucy’s old place?” Rachel said.

  “Yes, she was my great aunt.”

  “Do you intend to stay, or are you going to sell it on?” John queried.

  Rachel shot him a look and said “Don’t give the poor girl the third degree.”

  “No, honestly,” Bella said quickly, “I intend to stay and I’m busy bringing it up to date. It’s such a lovely spot and ideal for my work.”

  “Ah, what do you do?” Rachel asked.

  “I’m an interior designer/decorator, upcycle furniture etc. At least I used to be and I’m going back to it.”

  Rachel was about to ask another question when Roman cut in “I see others I have to say hello to, we’ll catch up with you later.”

  Taking Bella’s hand he led her away and into the barn.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “It’s just natural nosiness when incomers come to live here. Everyone around here used to know each other, all their secrets, and now they just can’t help asking about you if you’re a stranger.”

  “They say word of mouth is the best advertising, so I don’t mind.”

  “It can
get a bit much.” Roman muttered.

  To Bella’s delight everyone was friendly, including her in their conversations, supplying her with drinks and insisting she join in the dancing. When it came to the actual barn dances, she was out of her depth, but eventually by following others she picked them up. Left out of breath by a very robust Dashing White Sergeant, she was sitting on a straw bale drinking a glass of cider when Roman dropped down beside her. He’d danced a couple of dances with her, but she had been much in demand by the strapping Dartmoor farmers, and he’d lost sight of her for a while.

  Seeing her drinking the strong scrumpy cider as if it were lemonade he said “You need to be careful with the local brew, it’ll sneak up on you and knock you for six.”

  “It’s lovely, I’ve never liked cider before, but this is so smooth and easy to drink.”

  “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

  Bella smiled “I am. The people are great and the boys are so sweet and polite.”

  Roman roared with laughter. “It’s the first time I’ve heard this bunch of raging testosterone called that.”

  “But they are. They’re charming, “Bella giggled, “one told me I was a pagan goddess.”

  Roman smiled, whoever had said that was right. Compared to the pretty, straight haired modern young girls, she made a man feel like a Viking warrior.

  The band struck up `Achy breaky heart` and there was a shout of, line dance, Roman and Bella being pulled to their feet to join in. Four dances later the music stopped and it was announced that the cider basted pig was ready. Lines formed as plates were filled with succulent roast pork, jacket potatoes, corn on the cob, coleslaw and salad.

  Soon all the straw bales and chairs were filled with people enjoying the simple food, beer and cider barrels were emptied and others were opened, as friends and neighbours sat or stood about chatting. A crowd soon formed around Roman and Bella, who was invited to join so many things she wondered when she’d find the time to work.

  At one point a heavily made up woman in an inappropriate, for a barn dance, designer silk dress and very high heels, pushed her way through the crowd and stood looking at Roman, who stood up and said “Hello Marcia.”

  With a sneer on her face she looked at Bella and said “I should have expected to find you with the hoi polloi. Where’s Louisa?”

  “I have no idea, nor do I care,” Roman said in a low voice, “as for the hoi polloi they are much more fun than your crowd.”

  “I’ll tell her what you’ve been up to!”

  “You do that, as it’s none of her business what I do.”

  Marcia turned and the crowd parted, in silence, to let her through.

  Roman sat back down his face dark and his eyes cold, and the crowd started to chat together again. The band started up, playing a slow smoochy number and he took Bella’s hand and led her onto the dance floor. Bella let the music sweep over her as she breathed in his subtle expensive aftershave and his own male, musky scent.

  By midnight she was almost asleep on her feet and Roman sought out their hosts and made their goodbyes, many of the young farmers calling him a lightweight or old man. Exchanging jibes with them he made his way back to where he’d left Bella, only to find that she’d been dragged back onto the dancefloor and was being flung about by a tall muscular young farmer to the tune of `Blue suede shoes`.

  When the song ended he cut in and swept her away towards his car. George had spent the evening chatting to old friends and neighbours, enjoying the barbecue and avoiding the many offers of cider or beer. Roman had his arm around Bella to ensure that she didn’t take a tumble, thanks to the cider that she’d been drinking so easily all night. However to his surprise it seemed to have had no ill effect and she was as steady as he was.

  Safely in the car she said “Do you know what? I’ve had the best night of my life. What a great bunch of people.”

  “Yes they know how to enjoy themselves, do young farmers. All got hollow legs.”

  “Hah, they certainly can drink, but they don’t get objectionable with it.”

  “On the whole, no. but there are one or two exceptions. Not tonight though.”

  “The young men are lovely, flirt like mad but none of them went too far.”

  “That’s because the girls wouldn’t put up with it.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” she said thoughtfully.

  “The thing is, many are related. They grow up knowing each other and most of the girls are someone’s sister, or cousin. You don’t mess with a mate’s sister.”

  “I understand that, but I’m no one’s sister.”

  “No, but you arrived with me,” he said shortly.

  She glanced at him through lowered lashes “So does that mean they think we’re an item?”

  “Probably.”

  “But we aren’t.”

  He turned to her and cupped her chin in his hand, then leaning towards her he captured her mouth with his. As her lips softened and parted under his he moved closer and his tongue claimed her mouth, ravishing it, making it clear that he desired more. Her body responded so completely that she felt as if she were melting. And as he felt her surrender he groaned.

  The crunch of gravel under the car wheels signalled that they had arrived at the cottage, and they separated reluctantly. Roman got out of the car and walked round to open her door. As she put her hand in his a tremble ran through her, and casting caution to the winds she said “Do you want to come in?”

  He gazed at her face searchingly, then seeing the trepidation behind the words he said “If you really want me to.”

  She nodded, her mouth too dry to speak and he turned to George and said “You can go, I’ll walk home from here.”

  “Yes sir,” George said smoothly not even raising an eyebrow, and putting the car into gear he slowly drove away.

  Roman turned to Bella and asked “You’re sure?” Then as she nodded he took the door key off her, opened the lock and sweeping her up into his arms, kicked the door open. Misty gave a bark but at Roman’s growled “LIe down.” returned to her bed in front of the fire.

  “She’ll need to go out.” Bella said.

  “She can wait a while longer,” he said as he carried her through to the bedroom, “but I can’t. I want you Bella, have done ever since I met you.”

  She gasped as he dropped her onto the bed, sat her up and pulled her underskirt and dress over her head. His gasp of indrawn breath as he saw her in her white lacy bra and panties reminded her that she hadn’t waxed for a while.

  However when he murmured “You are so beautiful, more so than I’d imagined, so perfect.” She forgot everything as he pushed her back and started to kiss her again. He worshipped every inch of her body, delighting in her auburn curls and the sheer naturalness of her, driving her wilder than she had ever thought possible. Now it was her turn to want him naked and she tore at his shirt and jeans, until his lithe muscular body was bare, looming over her, his eyes asking the question, making sure this was what she really wanted. When she smiled at him and arched her hips so they were touching he growled with satisfaction and sank into her, filling her so completely she felt almost virginal again.

  That night showed her that she hadn’t loved Gervaise, and he certainly had never loved her. He’d never made her feel like Roman did, or brought her to orgasm so deliciously and the realisation struck her that Gervaise had never considered her need, only his own, and he’d used her in bed as he had in his work. By morning all the hurt and self doubt he’d left her with was gone and she felt reborn.

  She was woken by soft kisses tickling the nape of her neck, spooned into the front of Roman, his desire for her obvious, in the weight of him pressed into her back.

  “Morning sleepyhead,” he murmured as he continued to kiss her down between her shoulder blades, his feather soft kisses
tickling her and making her squirm against his erection. Growling with need he turned her onto her back and claimed a nipple between his teeth causing her to yelp and giggle. When he moved to the other and then started to progress down her body she murmured incoherently “Oh, I need a shower and my teeth cleaned.”

  “Later,” he muttered, but when she became stiff in his arms he lifted himself onto an elbow and looked down at her “What’s the matter Bella?”

  “Um, well, er, I’m hot and sweaty,” she shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

  “And hopefully going to get hotter and sweatier,” he grinned down at her.

  “But, um,” she bit her lip.

  “You think you’re not desirable because you haven’t just got out of a shower?”

  Blushing deeply she nodded.

  “Bella, to me you are desirable no matter what you’ve been doing. You smell and taste delicious, your very essence is what turns me on. I’m hot and sweaty, do you need me to take a shower before every love making?”

  She gazed at him open mouthed “No, of course not, I love the scent of you, but women are different.”

  “Who told you that rubbish? Someone who doesn’t really like women, I bet. You smell of fresh air, spicy roses and” he laughed “today, cider.”

  He took hold of a nipple and tweaked it, causing her to catch her breath, and after that she lost all coherent thought, swept along by his love making.

  A long time later Misty padded into the bedroom and whined.

  Raised from a languid stupor, Bella jerked upright and said “Sorry sweetheart, I’ll let you out straight away.”

  “I don’t want to go,” Roman said turning over lazily.

  Laughing she jumped out of bed, then seeing the light in his eyes as he gazed at her, she hurriedly grabbed her housecoat.

  “Spoilsport,” Roman grumbled.

  “I’ll let her out and put the kettle on, god knows what the time is. I hope she hasn’t made a mess.”

  “I got up and let her out early morning, while you were snoring,” he grinned as he picked up his jeans.