‘This way,’ Joe led her to his car, a little sporty thing in silver. She thought it might be a VW Golf GTI. Gavin was always pointing them out to her back in Newcastle, not that he’d ever have saved enough to get one of his own. The lanes were winding in the dark and she felt a bit giddy, steadying herself by placing her hands on the sides of the seat. He drove fairly fast, obviously familiar with the road, but it seemed safe too. She began to relax and half-closed her eyes, looking forward to her bed and a nice lie-in, no scones to bake at seven in the morning.
‘We’re here.’
His mellow voice woke her. Crikey! She hadn’t fallen asleep, had she? Oh great! She was getting good at embarrassing herself in front of him.
‘Ooh, well thanks for the lift,’ she smiled softly.
He turned off the car headlights. After a second or two her vision adjusted. She focused on his face in the silvery light of a half moon. He stared back at her. There was the slightest shift of his head towards her. Surely he wasn’t going to kiss her? Did she want that or not? She’d done enough daft things lately. But he then leaned back, saying ‘You’re very welcome. Glad to get you home safe and sound.’
She’d probably just been imagining things. ‘Right, well, thanks for the lift,’ she muttered as she opened the door and nipped out of his car.
* * *
Joe
He didn’t know whether to catch up with her or not. God, he’d really wanted to kiss her then. Her lips had looked so damned inviting. He wondered how they would feel against his own, how she would taste? But what the hell was the matter with him? He never got involved with staff. It only caused havoc. Best keep things on a professional level. Keep that distance. She was marching away at a rate of knots, anyhow. If she had guessed that he’d wanted to kiss her, it obviously wasn’t something she was keen on participating in. ‘Goodnight, Ellie,’ he called after her, his voice a little hoarse.
She was several metres ahead, digging around in her handbag, approaching the side door they used for their wing of the castle. She looked vulnerable there ahead of him, fumbling for her keys, her back to him, yet there was a strength about her that he admired.
He thought about the other day, when she had asked him to hold her. What had made her so sad? He’d wanted to ask, but tonight hadn’t been the right place, too busy there at the pub, and he hadn’t wanted to upset her again. Maybe he’d ask another time. Whatever it was, she seemed to want to forget about it. But he hated to think of her feeling down. Okay, so he couldn’t get involved, but if someone had hurt her … it had better not be some bloke. Christ, he’d want to string him up and teach him a lesson. In fact there was an old wooden torture rack down in the dungeon – now that might come in handy.
She was hurrying ahead of him, her shoes clacking over the cobbles. She unlocked the door, stepped through, and wound her way up the stone stairwell. He had trouble keeping up, even with his long strides. As she reached her room, she finally turned to glance at him, ‘Night, Joe.’ They held eye contact for a second before she looked down, turned the lock and headed in, as though she couldn’t get away fast enough.
If she had guessed about the kiss, it was evidently something she didn’t want. Jeez, he must be losing his touch with women. Though it was probably for the best all round.
14
Ellie
‘Have you taken up residency in here?’
Ellie turned around to see Joe hovering at the kitchen door. Yes, it was meant to be her day off, but she had woken up early and had thought she’d make a head start on the baking for tomorrow – to save such an early start the next day. She wasn’t sure what else she was going to do with herself anyhow. The slight cider hangover still clung inside her head, and looking up at him, connecting with those deep-hazel eyes, so did the memory of that nearly-kiss in the car.
‘I was just coming down to steal some milk, actually.’
‘Ah-hah, caught in the act! Now I know where my supplies keep disappearing to.’ She pretended to scowl.
‘I don’t do it often. It’s just a bloody long way to the shop, and I didn’t fancy getting the car out. Can’t stand black coffee either.’
‘Go on, then,’ she laughed, ‘Steal away. I’ll give you a little jug to take back to your room if you like.’
He stood quietly, watching her for a second.
‘Or,’ she added in spite of herself, ‘You can pop the kettle on here for me. I could do with a cuppa. Just let me pop that tray of cookies in the oven.’
They sat drinking coffee perched on stools at the end of the stainless-steel bench. It was funny how soon this had become her world. What had it been now, three weeks? She liked the bustle of the tearoom’s kitchen, the warmth from the big oven that seemed to be permanently on – thank God she didn’t have to pay for the gas and electric bills – the buzz of the mixer, the ping of the microwave, the cake and biscuit aromas that surrounded her. She had put Nanna’s Be-Ro recipe book up, in pride of place, on the shelf above the work surface at the far end, where she spent most of the day mixing up her cakes or plating out her paninis and jacket potatoes. She was going to expand with some ‘specials’ next week, perhaps a homemade pie and smoked-salmon-and-cream-cheese bagels, and she had bought herself a chalk board to write them on to display in the teashop.
Joe was watching her as he sipped his coffee. Ooh, she’d been off there in her own little world. Had the castle become his world too, she wondered? Was he happy here? Did it feel like home to him? It was hard to tell. He kept himself pretty much to himself generally – what about Lord Henry being a hermit? For a young man, Joe was a bit of a recluse too. There didn’t seem to be any girlfriend lurking about.
‘It was a good night last night, wasn’t it?’ She tried to chat. Their conversation seemed a bit stilted this morning. ‘It was nice to get out and about for a change.’
‘Yeah, it’s a nice little pub there at Wilmington.’
Neither mentioned the getting home bit.
‘Good to leave the confines of the castle walls. I feel I’m becoming institutionalised,’ she joked.
‘Locked up in an ivory tower,’ he picked up on the idea.
‘Well, a stone one,’ she added with a grin.
‘Actually, I’m thinking of going for a walk this afternoon. It’s a lovely day out there. Do you fancy coming along? Or were you thinking of spending your whole day in here?’
‘Umn, okay. Why not?’ She wasn’t really into walking, but it would be nice to see what was around the castle, tour the gardens. Apparently there was a small lake in the grounds. And she felt herself warm to the thought of spending a little more time with Joe.
‘Do you have any boots, like walking boots?’
‘Ah, so you mean proper walking. No, the best I’ve got is these flats.’
He looked down at her feet, shaking his head with a wry grin. ‘You come out to the depths of Northumberland with stilettos – don’t deny it, I saw them last night – and plimsolls?’
‘Guilty as charged, yes. Served me perfectly well in Newcastle.’
‘Exactly! Well we’re in the wilds now. We’ll be hiking across a couple of fields, up through the woods, and up to the top of that hill over there.’ He pointed through the small window to a virtual mountainside.
She tried to pull her eyes back in from their stalks, but she’d already said yes. ‘O-kay, that’s fine,’ she replied, not wanting to appear a wuss, but the lilt in her voice gave her away.
‘I’ll see if Deana’s got a spare pair of boots in the office. What size are you? You’ll be up to your ankles in mud in those things.’
‘Six.’
‘Okay, I’ll go check. Let me know when you’re finished here. Give me a knock at my room.’
‘Can’t wait.’ She didn’t try to hide the sarcasm in her tone.
Joe just laughed.
She liked the way his eyes creased at the corners when he grinned like that.
* * *
Joe
W
hy was he doing this? Digging around in Deana’s office looking for a pair of walking boots for her, when he’d actually intended going off for a quiet walk on his own. All he’d gone down to the kitchen for was some milk. But there she was, working away on her day off, and it had brought it back, that near-kiss moment last night, and the earlier memory of her in his arms when she’d asked for the hug. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on, and he was damned certain he wasn’t going to get into any relationship, especially when they had to work together. But she was good company; last night at the pub had confirmed that.
Maybe he could just keep it as friends, enjoy her company now and again. It could be pretty lonely rattling about here in the castle, especially on those quiet days. And whatever was bugging her, maybe she’d open up if they chatted. He might be able to help somehow. It might be some practical advice she needed, something to do with working here, and he could allay her fears. She worked hard. He’d been impressed by the hours and energy she put in, and the food she cooked was amazing. She might just be overtired. He could cheer her up, crack a few jokes while they walked, bring that gorgeous smile back to her face.
He’d take her out by the lake, he decided, through the walled garden first, and then into the woods. The rhododendrons were just coming out, with their bold purple flower-heads, and the bluebells should be there, too. They were in bud last time he walked out that way. Then they could carry on up the track. It wasn’t too steep that way to reach the top of Claverham hill. She’d surely like the view from up there, even if she was a city girl.
He found a pair of sturdy boots in a corner of Deana’s office next to a pair of green wellies. They were brown-leather lace-ups. He turned one over to check the size, six, perfect. He took them, locked the office, and headed upstairs to get himself ready, finding his own walking boots and a waxed Barbour jacket. He wondered if she’d have a decent coat, probably not – she was such a townie. Mind you, he had been once too.
Four and half years he’d worked here now. Worked his way up, started out doing a bit of everything. And his previous experience at the Priory Hotel back at Tynemouth had stood him in good stead. He’d dealt with accounts, staff, stock; started out doing weekend work while at sixth form there as a waiter, and had worked his way up to assistant manager. But here it was very different, it had become a way of life not just a job. The castle kind of grew on you, had a character all of its own. And despite it being quiet at times, almost a little too solitary, he liked the peace, the space, the sense of history. He felt at home here. He wondered if Ellie would get to feel that too. He wanted her to feel settled here, at least for the season. For some reason, he wanted her to be happy.
Why had she needed that hug? It seemed as though coming here was an escape. He wondered what from?
An hour later there was a knock at his door.
‘Come on in,’ he shouted.
‘I’m ready. Well, just about. Do you have the boots?’ She was stood there in jeans, jumper, red mac slung over an arm and socked feet. She looked cute.
‘Yep, boots are here. Hang on.’ He raised the pair into her view, and smiled to himself as she regarded them with disdain. ‘Size six, as requested, madam.’
‘Who’s been wearing them?’ Her nose was creased.
‘Only Deana, I promise.’
‘Alright, I’ll put them on then.’
‘You don’t have to sound so keen. You’d think I’m about to take you mud wrestling or something.’
That made her laugh, though she still looked out of her comfort zone. She came in, sat on a chair in his office. He watched as she laced them up.
‘Ready?’
‘Ready.’
They took the door out into the walled garden, where the late-spring borders were bursting into life. Colin was evidently doing a good job; the box hedges trimmed and the earth was turned over, chocolate-brown and weed-free.
‘I enjoyed last night.’ She started up the conversation where they’d left off.
‘Yes, the meal was good, wasn’t it? And there’s always a nice friendly atmosphere there in the Swan.’ He wasn’t sure if that’s what she really meant, but he didn’t want to risk reading anything too personal into it. After all, she’d zoomed off at a rate of knots from the car.
They left the walled garden through a wrought-iron gate, following the path that led to the start of the woods and the small ornamental lake. The shade from the trees dappled over them. Leaves, just unfurled and bright lime green, fluttered in a gentle breeze. The undergrowth smelled earthy and dewy. The air was warm down here, but he knew it’d get cooler as they climbed the hill. She’d put her anorak on; it was bright red and contrasted against the honey blonde of her hair, which she tended to wear up. With her green eyes, at least he thought they were green, she was quite striking. A tendril of hair had escaped onto her cheek. He wondered what it would feel like to let the whole lot loose and run his hands through it. Stop. Hold that image right there. Just friends, she works for you, a voice warned in his head. Bloody hell, he was going to have to keep a careful rein on himself here.
‘Penny for them?’ Her smile pulled him back.
He said nothing. He wasn’t going to share that particular thought with her. ‘Oh just thinking about something at work,’ or someone, he bluffed. ‘Yeah, I’m still trying to think of the best way to move on with this wedding-venue idea.’ He was sure he’d mentioned this last night. They could slip back into work mode. Safe mode. ‘I really think it could work for the castle.’
‘It’s certainly the kind of romantic venue couples would like.’
‘Yeah.’
‘And I could picture a marquee there on the big lawn.’
‘Yes, I’d already considered that. And the great hall would be amazing for receptions for when the weather wasn’t as warm. I’ve already contacted the council about how to get a licence.’
‘Is Lord Henry happy with it all?’
‘Hmn, that might be the stalling point. He doesn’t know yet.’
‘Really? Ah, well, that might be a bit of an issue.’
‘But if I get all the plans watertight first, and he can see the kind of income it will bring in, I really don’t see how he can argue. We can keep it just to Saturdays and Fridays – the rest of the week or when we didn’t have wedding bookings we would work as normal. I don’t think we could allow our general visitors in on wedding days. You couldn’t have tourists gate-crashing the reception and mingling with the guests.’
‘Yep, I agree, it would have to be exclusive. But you’d take far more on a wedding booking surely than in admissions. Just booking the place, what would that be? £1,000 plus?’ She knew only too well the cost of booking a wedding; that country house near Hexham had cost a mint, and she’d lost all the bloody deposit. ‘And you could expect a cut from the catering, the flowers. Were you thinking of providing accommodation too?’
‘Well, there’s all those spare rooms gathering dust.’
She was definitely on his wavelength here. He liked her business sense. She seemed more relaxed now they were talking work, her step falling into line with his as they strolled through the woods. The birdsong and gentle rustling of spring leaves was a backdrop to their conversation.
* * *
Ellie
She liked his drive, his ambition and energy. He was intelligent without being nerdy. And there was a friendly warmth about him as they chatted that made her relax. But she was still wondering why she was going rambling – this was not her thing at all.
Now and again she caught sight of the rise and fall of his thigh muscles under the denim of his jeans. Walking next to him, just inches between them, she remembered the way her head had rested against his collarbone. Ah, and here was the hug moment again, coming back to haunt her. She’d be blushing next, damn.
‘Penny for them?’ He was coining her own phrase. Actually, it was one of Nanna’s sayings too. It sounded odd coming from him.
Now she was blushing. ‘Oh … nothin
g.’ Only the same image she’d been reliving over the past few nights.
He let it go, striding on purposefully. He was obviously used to walking out here. He was a pace ahead of her, and she now had a good view of his buttocks under the jeans. It was a good image, nice and firm. She averted her gaze. They had reached the lake, the early buds of bluebells carpeted the floor of the woods here and there were also white, star-like flowers. The water was pond-green, and a small black bird with red on its bill paddled gracefully near the reeds at the edge, with the cutest fluffy black chicks in tow. It was pretty and peaceful and felt secluded there, the kind of place you might go skinny-dipping. Okay, so she’d might have been watching and reading a little too much Jane Austen, going all Darcy-comes-shirt-dripping-out-of-the-lake. The buttocks were still marching on ahead.
‘Do you swim?’ The words came out before she had time to stop them.
He turned and waited for her to catch up, ‘What, here?’
‘Yeah?’ She was curious now.
‘What in there? You must be kidding. No chance. It’s full of weed and fish, and God knows what. Had a horrid algae all over it last year.’
Oh well, that put paid to any Mr Darcy fantasies. There was obviously no point snooping about in the bushes early morning to get a glimpse of him rising from the waters, all wet torso and dripping hair and … She’d just have to use her imagination, as always. It was amazing how creative you could be at times.
‘You wouldn’t swim in there, would you?’
‘No, certainly not. It’d have to be Barbados, somewhere exotic and hot, to get me swimming in the open water.’ Not that she’d ever had the chance. The furthest she’d been was Majorca. Now that had been lovely and warm, but she still stuck with the heated pool of the hotel.
‘I used to go surfing down at Tynemouth when I was a teenager. That was pretty damned cold.’
Hmn, she hadn’t had him down as the surfer type. But it was nice discovering things about him. Dark hair, all damp, wet-suit clinging to his lean muscles – it wasn’t a bad image – see, told you I was creative. She smiled at him.
The Cosy Teashop in the Castle Page 12