Jumping in Puddles

by Barbara Elsborg

  White square. “Is my house doomed?”

  He puffed hot air onto Ellie’s lips. “Am I doomed?” he whispered.

  “Ah,” she choked out. “I’ve had a few ideas. Let me think about it, make some calls, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Now she was the one who wanted to pull back.

  “I can’t wait until tomorrow.” He grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her.

  Ellie felt as if every molecule of her body had been charged with electricity and blasted into the sky before plummeting to earth and slamming back together. Pummeled head to toe by lightning-fast strikes of sexual excitement—every one of which arrowed to her groin—she lost her ability to think and could only respond.

  His soft tongue trailed along the line of her lips, and when Ellie opened her mouth and let him in, what had seemed magical before now erupted into a blaze of colors inside her head, the spectrum exploding in every direction. Jago sagged slightly as if he’d feared she’d pull back, and Ellie moaned low in her throat, fearing he’d let her go, but he wrapped his hands around her and held her tight.

  He explored her mouth slowly, feeling his way over the edges of her teeth, circling the tip of his tongue over the fleshy pads of her cheeks, skating up and down the bony curve at the top of her mouth—an action that made her wriggle against him so he did it again. Ellie made her own journey of discovery, her tongue dipping and diving, sliding alongside his. She nibbled his lips with her teeth, licked until he groaned into her mouth. Jago tasted sweet and strong and sexy, and she wanted to kiss him forever.

  Hot and gentle slipped into fast and greedy. Jago pulled her closer, grinding the hard ridge of his cock against her belly, rocking into her. When his arms slid down her back and his fingers curled under the bottom edges of her shorts, she reached for his hands, threaded her fingers with his, and pressed their entwined hands against their hips. If he touched her between her legs, she’d collapse.

  They pulled back for oxygen though didn’t move far. Foreheads glued together, they breathed each other’s air, their noses bumping, tongues darting out to flick a mate. Then Jago’s tongue was back inside her mouth, surging back and forth in an imitation of sex that wound her up like a mechanical mouse. Ellie feared she’d fizz in circles when he let her go.

  She didn’t. She staggered back and collided with a chair. The knowledge that someone was knocking at the door filtered through into her head, and as she watched Jago pull himself together, she did the same. He dragged his fingers through untidy hair Ellie would have loved to style for him and pulled his shirt straight.

  When Jago opened the door, two guys stood there.

  “Good morning. We’re from Robertson’s. We’re surveying for Jeff Preston.”

  Jago sighed. “Oh yes.” He turned to Ellie. “Sorry. I have to show them round. I’ll see you later. Okay?”

  She tried to tell herself it was for the best they’d been deprived of the opportunity to go further but failed to convince herself. She almost left the house until she realized this was an opportunity to look for the Kewen. Before thinking stopped her, she sneaked back to Jago’s room and started to search. And while she searched, she tidied.

  Ellie rarely used her magic. She suspected out of the six Norwoods, she used hers the least. Her father expended his searching for the Kewen. Her mother held the family together with hers. She had no idea what her brothers did with theirs. They no longer lived at home, but Pixie used hers up fast. Her younger sister said she didn’t have the control to stop herself doing something weird by accident. Ellie regularly had to put right Pixie’s mistakes.

  The yearly recharge of power was a kind of torture, a reminder of what the family had lost, of what they could be and weren’t. Over time and with the help of the book, generations of Norwoods had worked out the limits of their power and that it varied from one person to another. Micah was the strongest, Ellie the weakest. Expend too much magical energy in a single day, and eyes stopped shining, bodies faded, and only sleep would bring recovery.

  Ellie suspected the need to sleep kicked in before all power was used up, which was why Pixie was still around. Over the year, their magic faded along with the brightness of their eyes and the strength in their bodies. They weren’t supposed to use magic for ordinary things, and Ellie had already broken that rule in the garden this morning. She’d wanted to reward Henry for helping her. She wanted to make him happy.

  Her excuse this time was that she might never have the chance to be alone in this room again, and she had to make sure the Kewen wasn’t here. If along with that she made Jago smile too, then so much the better. She bespelled his clothes laundered and pressed, and hung them on rails she found at the back of the surfboard. She uncovered a little alcove with a window that looked down onto a room he’d not yet shown her. The baron’s hall.

  She shelved his CDs, DVDs, and books—lots of medical texts. She’d already known, but Henry had proudly informed her, Jago was a qualified doctor, a hematologist. She cleared and cleaned his bed, stacked his shoes, and piled up cleaned plates, mugs, and cutlery to go back to the kitchen. Even as she felt her energy failing, she kept going, fueled by disappointment, and it had nothing to do with not finding the Kewen. Everything of Jago’s she handled gave her more of a sense of him, but how could there be a future for them?

  A letter from Dacre’s showed he’d been paid four and half thousand for the rose-gold ring that lay hidden in her bag in the gatehouse. The book said it should lead her to the rest. Maybe she ought to wear it, but not on her finger.

  A flip through photograph albums showed none of Jago’s family wearing jewels she recognized. Drawings of the Kewen were hardwired into her brain from the book, her father’s obsession transferred to her. She struggled with guilt that she had no enthusiasm for leaving the only world she knew—the reward for finding the faerie treasure.

  Jago and his brother looked similar in the photos, both tall and dark-haired. Jago was the better looking, but Denzel was the happy one, always smiling. There were pictures of Jago with various women, and Ellie checked out their jewelry, just in case. Nothing.

  A bone-deep weariness replaced her anxiety about being caught. Unless she needed the ring to feel it, there was no tingle of sensation from this room. The Kewen wasn’t here.

  Too tired to go around the house again, she made her way outside. She headed for a little summerhouse at the back of the rose garden, each step sapping a little more of her strength. Expending so much magic on Jago’s room had been a stupid thing to do. He probably wouldn’t even be grateful. In fact, he’d be pissed. She’d never let herself drain so far before. She’d not been thinking straight.

  Almost crawling the last few yards, Ellie pulled herself into the wooden gazebo and curled up out of sight. This low in energy, she suspected she’d be pale as a ghost with colorless eyes. She’d done far too much to Jago’s room, though she wished she had enough strength to do more, to put this house right again.

  So why did she think the restoration of Sharwood wasn’t the way to make Jago happy?

  Chapter Six

  When Ellie woke it was midafternoon. She stretched on the wooden floor and groaned. Her tiredness was gone, but sleeping on something so hard had made her ache. She pushed herself up, rolled her stiff shoulders, and headed for the gatehouse. Henry kept a bicycle in his backyard. She’d have it back before he noticed. But she spotted him trimming a hedge in the shape of a peacock and walked over.

  “Hi, Ellie.”

  She smiled. “Brilliant T. rex.”

  Henry laughed. “Thank you.” Then he frowned. “Is there something wrong with your eyes?”

  “Took my contacts out. Is it okay to borrow your bike?”

  “Where do you need to go? Want me to give you a lift?”

  “Harrogate.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You definitely need a lift. Come on. I’ll have a wash and take you in. There are a few things I need anyway.”

  They walked down the drive to the gatehouse.


  “What have you been up to this morning?” he asked.

  “Jago showed me round.”

  “And what did you think?” Henry glanced at her.

  “That this is one of the most beautiful houses I’ve ever seen.” That Jago is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

  “Any ideas how to save it?”

  And him. “A few. That’s why I want to go to Harrogate.”

  Henry laughed. “Keeping your ideas close to your chest?”

  “Until I know whether they’ll work.”

  While Henry washed, Ellie used his laptop, made a few phone calls, and copied down addresses and directions. She showered and dressed to impress in a flowery summer frock and smart sandals, and let her hair down to curl around her shoulders.

  Henry gave her an approving smile, and after he’d locked the gatehouse, he handed Ellie a couple of keys. “So you can come and go here and at the house.”

  “Thank you.”

  He kept hold of the keys so they hung between them, and Ellie knew the look on his face meant don’t let me down.

  “I’d never take anything that belonged to you or Jago,” she said, and he let the keys go.

  As he pulled out of the drive onto the road, she turned to look at him. “Have you ever been married, Henry?”

  “No. Have you?”

  She laughed. “No. Ever tempted?”

  “Hmm. Not sure tempted is the word. It…couldn’t happen.”

  “So you were in love.”

  He glanced at her. “Yes. I was in love.”

  Ellie had put a few numbers together but wasn’t sure she’d added them up right. Not yet.

  “No boyfriend?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Not nursing a broken heart?”

  She forced a laugh. “No.” But she had a suspicion she might be doing that before long.

  Henry parked on the edge of town near a long stretch of parkland called the Stray, and they arranged to meet in ninety minutes. Ellie headed for her appointment at Knaresdon College while Henry walked in the opposite direction toward the high street.

  She waited outside Stan Booth’s classroom until he’d finished teaching and once the students had gone, told him what she needed. A guy in his forties, with a smiling face, Stan was the head of the construction skills department, and Ellie liked him at once. He was down to earth, wanted the best for his students, and passionate about his job, and it didn’t take long to convince him that in helping her, he’d be helping his students. Even better, he agreed to bring a small team the following day to see what needed to be done and come up with a plan. Apprentice plasterers, plumbers, bricklayers, electricians, joiners, and painters could work on the house under supervision and required only tea, biscuits, constructive criticism, and a lot of praise.

  “I could kiss you,” Ellie said.

  He laughed. “Better not. My wife would kill me. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve driven past Sharwood and wondered what it was like inside. I’m really looking forward to tomorrow.”

  Ellie swallowed hard. “It needs a lot of work. Some of it may be beyond your students’ capabilities. I have plans to raise money for the trickier restoration, but it will take time.”

  “This is an ideal opportunity to let these youngsters see what real work is like. If we only manage to restore a few rooms, it will be something for them to remember.”

  “The bedrooms will be the easiest, and they’re needed for the wedding, so better start with those.”

  Ellie left with a spring in her step. She headed into the town center and one by one called at the businesses she’d listed. She planted seeds and watered hard, hoping they’d shoot up and flower. Local support was essential.

  Henry waited by the Land Rover when she got back.

  “Successful?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Ellie couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

  Henry took her arm and turned her round. “In that case, we’re going back into town for tea at Betty’s. I think you better tell me what you’re up to before you tell Jago.”

  Ellie drooled when she saw the window display, full of homemade breads, elaborate fancy cakes, fruity scones called fat rascals, and castles of multicolored macaroons surrounded by chocolate mice and bunnies. The tea shop was busy, so they stood in line and waited for a table. Ellie’s gaze settled on the cakes and pastries under the glass counter.

  “Hello there.”

  One of the waitresses smiled at Henry. “I haven’t seen you for ages. How are you?”

  “Fine,” Henry mumbled.

  “Your wife not with you? Is this your daughter?”

  Ellie could feel Henry’s stress vibrating into her. “Yes,” she said and snuggled closer to him, tucking her arm through his. She willed the waitress to move on and swallowed when the woman carried on past them.

  “Why did you say that?” Henry whispered.

  “Because you were upset, and I think I know why.”

  When they were shown to their table, Henry waited for Ellie to sit. A different waitress handed them menus and left. Everything seemed expensive, and Ellie chose tea and a toasted teacake when she really wanted one of the meringues stuffed with whipped cream, drizzled with dark chocolate, and topped with chopped pistachios. Not that she’d really noticed them.

  “You sure?” Henry asked when she gave the waitress the order.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  He ordered the meringue. Damn him.

  Henry cleared his throat. “What do you think you know?”

  “You used to come here with a woman. It had to be a regular visit for the waitress to think she was your wife, although she shouldn’t have made that assumption, nor should she have made the comment. I might have been your wife.”

  Henry widened his eyes. “With our age difference.”

  “I don’t mind having a boy toy.”

  They both laughed but not for the same reasons.

  “You told me you weren’t married,” she said. “Not hard to guess the woman you brought here was the woman you loved, except she was already married. To Jago’s father.”

  He stared straight at her without blinking.

  “Was this your place? A trip here could be totally innocent if you were seen, but maybe a chance to get away from Sharwood and do something normal.”

  The drinks and food were delivered to their table, and Henry swapped his meringue for her teacake. “I saw the way your eyes lingered on it when we stood in line. I can make assumptions too.”

  “Is Jago your son?” she asked.

  He gasped and went so pale Ellie worried she’d given him a heart attack.

  “Wh-why would you say that?”

  “Just a feeling. He showed me a picture of his grandfather. I saw a more modern one next to it I assumed was his father. Jago looks nothing like them. He has your eyes.”

  “He has his mother’s eyes.”

  “Is Denzel yours too?”

  “How dare you?” Henry’s hand clenched around his spoon. “Jago is the rightful heir. Who are you? What do you want?”

  “I’m exactly who I said I was. Forget I said anything. I’m sorry. It’s just that I can see how much you love him.”

  Oh damn. Ellie had no choice. She put her hand on Henry’s.

  Forget I said this. Rewind our conversation.

  When she took her hand away, her fingers shook, and she sat on them.

  “It’s lovely in here,” she said. “Old-fashioned and quaint.”

  “Yes.” Henry smiled but looked confused. “Your eyes have changed again.”

  Oh God. “I have good news.” Maybe this would distract him. “Next weekend you’re going to open the gardens to the public.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes. We can use your laptop and printer to make the tickets, and I’ve spoken to a few places here in town that will sell them for us. We can do the same in the village. Entrance will include refreshments—tea, coffee, and orange squash plus strawb
erries and cream. We can either pick our own. Apparently there’s a farm at Birstwith, or we could buy them. Ten pounds a head to come in, five for children. There’ll be entertainment, but I haven’t sourced that yet. We should expect between four and five hundred visitors.”

  Ellie reached out, pushed her thumb under his chin, and snapped his jaw shut.

  “We’ll ask the WI, the Women’s Institute, if we can borrow their cups, saucers, and tea urn. I’m sure the community hall in the village will lend chairs and tables if we ask nicely. As will the local school. After this weekend, the garden should open every day. You can pay someone reliable to stand at the gate and take the money.”

  “Good grief, Ellie. What if it rains?”

  “It won’t.”

  He smiled. “Little Miss Sunshine.”

  “That’s me. So what do you think?”

  “You’re amazing.”

  * * * *

  Jago was exhausted by the strain of keeping a smile on his face. He didn’t need to be told Sharwood was falling apart. Every time either of the surveyors tsked, he wanted to plant his fist in the guy’s face. If the baron’s hall didn’t impress them, he’d tell Preston to take a running jump. As he unlocked the door and ushered the men inside, he remembered he hadn’t shown Ellie this room yet.

  Oh God, Ellie.

  “This hall’s like something out of the Middle Ages,” the younger man said.

  Jago sucked in his cheeks. “It is out of the Middle Ages.”

  The older guy ran his fingers along the stonework. “I have to be honest with you, Lord Carlyle. The house is more of a wreck than I’d thought.”

  Fuck off.

  Jago stopped listening. Fury bubbled inside him. He didn’t care what they said to Preston, he just wanted them gone.

  He walked them to their vehicle in front of the house and wondered where Ellie had disappeared to.

  “What’s—”

  The younger guy started to speak, and it was some sixth sense that made Jago recognize the sound of sliding slates. He looked up as he turned, and shoved the two men aside. Several slates crashed to the ground right where they’d been standing. Christ, that was close.