Outside, rooftops and roads were coated in a thick layer of snow, gleaming white and icy. Heavy flakes fell lazily from the sky, adding to the perfect Christmas scene.
‘Huh!’ Ben said, watching it fall. ‘When did that happen?’
* * *
‘I should never have gone out for dinner,’ Luce muttered to herself as she waited on hold for the station. If she hadn’t gone out for dinner with Ben Hampton she’d have had to try to find somewhere else to stay. When that had inevitably failed she’d have had no option but to get a train home. She’d be warm and cosy in Cardiff, watching the snow fall as she worked on her book.
Except, if she was honest with herself, she knew she wouldn’t be. She’d have called her mother as soon as she got back to sort out the Christmas Eve dinner, and then she’d have been caught up in the responsibility net again. She’d be at her family’s beck and call, sorting out their problems and organising their Christmas season. The book wouldn’t have got a look-in.
Of course she would still have had a roof over her head, which was more than she’d have right now if the trains weren’t running.
The hotel room door slammed open and shut and Ben walked back in, his hair damp with snowflakes. ‘It’s really not stopping out there,’ he said, shrugging out of his coat. ‘I spoke to Reception—apparently all trains are subject to significant delays, and a lot simply aren’t running.’
Luce pressed the ‘end call’ button and dropped her phone onto the sofa before perching on the arm herself. ‘Fantastic.’
‘You’re thinking this is all my fault somehow, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’ What the hell did she do now?
Ben pulled up a chair and sat opposite her. ‘Okay, well, let’s see what we can do to fix this.’
Luce rolled her eyes. ‘I know you pride yourself on being able to solve problems in hotels, but I think the British railway network might be beyond even your capabilities.’
Ben ignored her. ‘Daisy on Reception says this room’s booked out for tonight, and the guest has just called to confirm they’ll still be coming, despite the snow. So that’s out. We might possibly be able to find you another room if we get some cancellations, but there’s no guarantee. Or...’
‘Or?’ Luce sat up a little straighter. Another option was exactly what she needed right now. Unless, of course, this was another Ben Hampton plan to seduce her.
‘I’m driving south today anyway. Headed to my cottage down in the Brecons. Apparently it’s not so bad further south just yet, and I’m confident my four-by-four can handle it.’ He shrugged. ‘Wouldn’t be too far out of my way to take you on down to Cardiff. I can always stop for the night in one of our hotels there if the snow worsens.’
Blinking at him, Luce considered. It would mean hours in a car with Ben, on bad roads, but somehow she felt he was a surer bet than the trains. And not even he would try to seduce her in a snowdrift, right? ‘You’d do that?’
‘I still owe you for the room mix-up, remember? And this is cheaper than a first-class train ticket, anyway.’
He made it sound like nothing, but Luce knew better. He was fixing her life again. But if it got her home and her book finished maybe she should just let him. Accept help for once.
Grandad hadn’t had a saying to cover that one, but Luce thought there might be potential in it all the same.
‘Okay, then,’ she said, grabbing her phone and standing up. ‘Let’s go.’
CHAPTER SIX
SOMEWHERE AROUND WELSHPOOL Ben finally admitted to himself that this might not have been the best idea he’d ever had.
The integral sat nav in the car had wanted him to cross over the border and drive south through England, before nipping back into Wales just before Cardiff. But Ben had done the drive south through Wales to the Brecons and the cottage enough times to feel confident in his route, and he didn’t need advice for the uninitiated. Besides, the travel news had reported a pile-up on the A49 that would make things incredibly tedious, so really a drive through the hills had been the only option.
Right now, though, he’d take a three-hour traffic jam over these roads.
Daisy on the front desk had assured him that the snow was worst in the north. What she hadn’t mentioned was that it was heading south. Every mile of their journey had been undertaken with snow clouds hovering above, keeping pace, and dumping more of the white stuff in their path as they drove.
Ben’s arms ached from gripping the steering wheel tightly enough to yank the car back under control as the road twisted and slipped under them. His eyes felt gritty from staring into the falling snow, trying to see the path ahead. And Luce was not helping at all.
To start with she’d just looked tense. Then her hands had balled up against her thighs. Then she’d grabbed onto the seat, knuckles white. Ben had stopped looking over at her as the road grew more treacherous, but he’d bet money that she had a look of terror on her face now.
‘Are you sure this is the best way to go?’ Luce asked, her voice a little faint.
‘Yes.’ At least at this point it was pretty much the only option.
‘Do you think...? Is the snow getting heavier?’
‘No.’ Except it was. Any idiot could see that. But the last thing Ben needed was Luce freaking out on him in the middle of a snowstorm.
‘Are you just saying that to make me feel better?’
That sounded more like the Luce he’d had dinner with last night. Sharp and insightful.
‘Yes.’
‘Thought so.’ She took a breath and released her death grip on the seat. ‘Okay. What do you need me to do?’
‘Keep quiet and don’t freak out.’ Ben ground the words out. Distraction was dangerous.
‘Okay. I can do that.’
He wasn’t sure if she was reassuring herself or him, but she did seem to relax a little. At least until they hit the Brecon Beacons National Park.
As the car climbed the hills the skies darkened even further, looking more like night than afternoon. The falling flakes doubled in size, until his windscreen wipers couldn’t keep up, and the slow progress he’d been making dropped to a crawl. The road ahead had disappeared into a mist of white and the hills were blending into the sky.
They were never going to make it to Cardiff tonight.
‘Okay. New plan.’ Running through the road systems in his head, Ben prodded a couple of buttons on the sat nav and decided that maybe, just this once, he’d take its advice. Anything that got him off these roads, out of this car and somewhere warm. Preferably with a large drink.
‘What? Where are we going?’ Luce peered at the sat nav, which was insistently telling him to turn right. ‘We need to get to Cardiff!’
‘We’re never going to make Cardiff in this.’ Ben swung the car slowly to the right and hoped he’d hit an actual road. ‘We need to get somewhere safe until this passes.’
‘Like where?’ Luce asked, her tone rising in incredulity.
‘My cottage,’ Ben reminded her. ‘It’s a damn sight closer than Cardiff, and a lot safer than these roads.’
There was silence from the passenger seat. When Ben finally risked a glance over, Luce was staring at him. ‘What?’
‘You planned this,’ she said, her words firm and full of conviction. ‘This was the plan all along.’
‘Getting stuck in a snowstorm? I know I’m a powerful man, Luce, but the weather’s up there with the rail network on the list of things I can’t control.’
‘That’s why we came this way. You knew the snow would be bad, so you planned to kidnap me and take me to your cottage. You’re still mad I wouldn’t sleep with you last night.’
Was the woman actually insane?
‘Trust me—sleeping with you is the last thing on my mind right now. I’m more concerned with us—oh, I don’t know—not dying.’
‘I should have taken the train.’ The words were muffled as Luce buried her mouth into the long fluffy scarf wrapped around her neck.
�
��Next time I’ll let you,’ Ben promised, relief seeping through him as he made out enough letters on the next road sign to reassure him they were nearly at the village nearest his cottage. Two more turns and they’d be there. Once they got onto the last rocky upward track. ‘Hold on,’ he warned her. Then he took a breath and turned the wheel.
* * *
Luce had never liked rollercoasters. Or fairground rides. Or ferries, actually. And the journey through the hills with Ben had felt far too much like all three for her liking. Rising and falling, rocking, swaying in the wind... She could feel breakfast threatening to rise up in her throat as they bumped over the rocky track Ben had just violently swerved up.
All she wanted was to be at home. Warm, safe and merrily lost in the Middle Ages. Was that so much to ask?
But instead she was...where, exactly? Somewhere in the Brecon Beacons, she supposed. Risking her life on an unsafe track to get to Ben’s love-nest in the hills. Somewhere to wait out the storm and focus very hard on reasons not to indulge in a one-night stand with Ben.
Suddenly Cardiff felt a very long way away.
The car jerked to a halt and Luce rubbed at her collarbone where the seatbelt dug in.
‘We’re here.’ Ben threw open the door and jumped out into the snow, as if any amount of cold were better than being stuck in the car with her.
He was still mad about her suspicions, then. And, yes, okay—rationally she knew he probably hadn’t intended this to happen and couldn’t actually control the snow.
But it was still all a little too convenient and willpower-testing for her liking.
Unfastening her seatbelt, Luce followed, stepping gingerly into the soft piles of snow and wishing she’d packed more practical boots. Peering through the snow, she followed Ben’s tracks up what she presumed must be a path under all the white and saw, at last, Ben’s cottage.
Luce wasn’t sure what she’d expected, exactly. Maybe a collection of holiday chalets attached to a hotel. Or an ostentatious, look-how-rich-I-am manor house sort of thing that could only be called a cottage ironically. Whatever it was, it wasn’t this. An actual, honest-to-God stone cottage in the hills.
It was perfect.
‘Come on,’ Ben said, and she realised the front door was open. ‘If you freeze to death you’ll never forgive me.’
‘True,’ Luce said, and hurried in after him.
With the door closed fast behind them, the wild winds and swirling snow seemed suddenly miles away. It wasn’t hot in the cottage, by any means, but it was warm at least. Ben turned his attention immediately to the stone fireplace that dominated the lounge, stacking sticks and paper with practised ease.
Luce stared around her, taking in the unexpected surroundings. It certainly wasn’t the sort of space she’d imagined Ben feeling comfortable in. Yes, it had a modern open-plan layout, but there were none of the bright white surfaces and stainless-steel accessories she’d expected, even after seeing the rustic outlook of the place. Instead the large main room was decorated in earthy colours—warming, welcoming reds and browns and greens. The battered leather sofas had tawny throw blankets and cushions on them—perfect for curling up in front of the fire. And the sheepskin rug before the fireplace made even the grey stone floor more warming.
Not Ben. Not at all.
‘When did you buy this place?’ she asked, stripping off her coat and scarf and hanging them over the back of a kitchen chair before removing her boots.
‘A couple of years ago. I wanted somewhere separate. Somewhere that was mine.’
Luce thought she could understand that. Of course she encouraged her family to treat her house as theirs, but technically it belonged to her. That mattered.
‘Did you get someone in to decorate?’ Because this was the perfect rustic-cottage look. The sort of thing that either happened naturally or cost thousands via an interior designer. She didn’t see Ben as the naturally rustic type.
‘I did it,’ Ben said, without looking up from the tiny flame he was coaxing.
Luce tried to hide her surprise. ‘Well, it’s gorgeous,’ she said after a moment. Because it was—even more so, somehow, now she knew it was his own work. It wasn’t beautiful, or tasteful, or on trend. It was warm and cosy and she loved it.
As the fire caught Ben flashed her a smile—the first she’d seen since they left Chester.
‘So glad you approve.’
In that moment the cottage itself ceased to be the most attractive thing in the vicinity. Luce swallowed, looked away and said, ‘Um...so, how long do you think we’ll be stuck here?’
Standing up, Ben straightened, brushing his hands off on his jeans. ‘Until the snow stops, at least. Don’t think we’ll be going anywhere until tomorrow.’
Tomorrow. Which meant spending another night in close proximity to Ben Hampton. Another night of not throwing caution to the wind and saying, Seduce me. Just to find out, after eight years of wondering, what it would be like.
The look he gave her suggested that he’d read her mind—but imperfectly. ‘Don’t fret. There’s a spare room. It even has a key to lock it from the inside, if you’re still worried that this is some great master plan to get into your knickers.’
Heat flushed in Luce’s cheeks. She should probably apologise for that at some point. But since he was the one who’d point-blank propositioned her the night before maybe sorry could wait. Besides, just as the night before, she was more concerned that she’d need the lock to keep herself in, rather than him out.
Not thinking about it.
‘What do we do until then?’ she asked.
Ben shrugged. ‘Up to you. Work, if you like. Personally, I’m going to make myself an Irish coffee and warm up by the fire. Then, once this snow slows down, I’m going to walk down into the village and see if the Eight Bells is serving dinner. I’d invite you to join me, but I’d hate for you to get the wrong idea about my intentions.’
‘I do still need to eat,’ Luce pointed out. ‘And besides, Hampton & Sons have once again failed to make good on their promise—I was supposed to be in Cardiff by now. The way I figure it, you owe me another dinner.’
Ben raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? Seems to me that you relying on me for a bed for the night—without, I might add, any of the activities that usually make such a thing worthwhile—is becoming a bit of a habit. So, is that dinner instead of a night’s free accommodation in a charmingly rustic cottage?’
Luce considered. ‘Maybe we could go halves on dinner?’
‘Good plan.’ Ben moved into the kitchen area and pulled a bag of coffee from the cupboard. ‘So, do you want the grand tour?’
Luce spun round to smile at him and nodded. ‘Yes, please.’
‘Right, then.’ Waving an arm expansively around the living, dining and kitchen space, he said, ‘This is the main room. Bathroom’s over there. That’s my room. That’s yours.’ He pointed at the relevant doors in turn. ‘Back door leads out to the mountain. Front door leads to the car and a lot of snow. That’s about it. Now, how Irish do you want your coffee?’
She should take advantage of the afternoon to work, really. But her laptop was still in the car, and she was cold and tired and stuck with Ben Hampton for another night. She deserved a warming drink and a sit by the fire, didn’t she?
Luce perched on a kitchen stool and watched him fill the coffee maker. ‘Make sure it’s at least got a decent accent.’
Ben grinned at her. ‘Will do.’
* * *
Ben had been more concerned with getting in and getting warm than studying Luce’s expression when they arrived at the cottage. But now, watching her sink into the sofa, coffee in hand and feet stretched out towards the fire, he smiled to see her looking so at home there.
It wasn’t an impressive cottage. He knew that. None of the homes in a ten-mile radius had more than three bedrooms; anything bigger would have been ostentatious. Ben wanted to fit in here. So when he’d bought the tumbledown stone building he hadn’t extended it, ju
st rebuilt it as it would have been. And it wasn’t the most expensive of his properties—not by a long stretch. But it was his favourite. Not least because it was the only one that was really his. Bought with his own money, chosen by himself, decorated by himself. The penthouse in London, impressive as it was, belonged to the company and had been decorated by their interior designer. And the château... That still had his grandmother’s favourite rose print wallpaper all over it. He really needed to get out there and start sorting that place out.
But not now. This was his week off. His week of relaxation in his favourite place. Albeit with an unexpected, suspicious and snappish guest, and the prospect of a round trip to Cardiff in the snow tomorrow.
Sipping his own coffee, Ben let the warmth of the cottage flood his bones, relax his muscles, the way it always did when he came home.
Home. Luce had asked him where it was and he’d said he didn’t have one. He hadn’t explained that he didn’t want one. He’d had a home once, only to lose it when his father’s obsession with work drove his mother away.
He didn’t need a home that could be taken from him. He just needed a bolthole to hide out and recharge. Could be anywhere. Right now it just happened to be here, that was all.
I need to spend more time here.
Once he’d deposited Luce home he’d come back and look at his work schedule for the next twelve months. Figure out where there might be a break long enough to get back to Wales again. Maybe even over to France.
Luce drained her coffee and said, ‘So, this pub you mentioned?’
‘The Eight Bells. Best pint and best pies this side of the border.’ They’d missed lunch in the snow. She was probably as starving as he was.
‘Sounds promising,’ Luce said, but she didn’t sound convinced.
Ben decided to put her out of her misery. ‘And, for you townies, there’s a pretty decent wine list, too.’
‘Oh, thank God.’ Her face brightened.
Ben chuckled. ‘Less than a day with me and you’re already desperate for a drink? What? The coffee not Irish enough for you?’
Stranded With the Tycoon Page 6