by Jo Victor
“Alex! I was hoping you’d be here.” She let go of the tie, leaving it hanging around her neck with the ends loose. The color did look amazing on her. “Sorry I’ve been out of touch, but this last job ran me ragged.”
“Been busy, have you? Here, let me help you with that.” She set her plate down on a nearby chair and took hold of both ends of the tie, adjusting the length before starting on the knot.
“Ta. It’s that hard to manage without a mirror. Been up to my eyebrows in it and no mistake.”
Alex was barely listening. This was so not a good idea. Standing this close to Cam, it was all she could do to keep her hands moving in some kind of coordinated way. If she didn’t look up, if she didn’t think about the warmth she could feel right through the layers of cloth…If she didn’t think at all, then maybe, just maybe, she could get the damn knot over and done with so she could step back out of range and start breathing normally again.
For her part, Cam for once could not seem to stop talking, just a bit too loudly.
“Some fool over to Ilkley left a tap running in his holiday cottage, flooded the whole place. Needed new flooring, and that was just for a start. Owner was beside himself, what with the Bank Holiday coming. Morning, noon, and night job, that one. Wasn’t even sure I’d make it to the party.”
“I’m glad you did.” And I’m even more glad to be done with the damn tie—although she does look really good in it. Alex put a little distance between them, surveying Cam up and down. “You look very smart, Ms. Carter.”
“You as well, Ms. Petrocelli. That color really suits you.”
“Thanks.” Alex picked up the plate again. Cam spotted the bread and pounced, helping herself to a sizeable piece and wolfing it down before Alex had time to blink.
“Sorry—I’m famished.”
“It’s fine, really.”
“Never did get any dinner, or tea either, I was so keen to finish in time.” Alex held out the plate and Cam broke off another chunk, devouring it like it was going out of style. “Mind if I finish it?”
Either Cam had no idea what she was eating, or she was so hungry she didn’t care about the consequences.
“Please, help yourself.”
The rest of the bread disappeared. “Champion, that was. One thing there’s no shortage of at Lammas is good bread. Who made it, or do you not know?”
“Mrs. Tate made the dough, but she had me shape and bake it by myself.”
Cam went very still. Alex was pretty sure what that meant: Cam was well aware of the Maid’s Loaf tradition but, like Nicola, wasn’t sure how much Alex knew. Which presented certain possibilities.
She gave Cam what she hoped was a friendly, innocent smile as her mind raced. Should she go there? Oh, why not. “You know, Mrs. Tate said a funny thing—not funny ha-ha, funny peculiar. That I should be careful who I let taste it. Do you know what that was about?”
Cam shook her head, unwilling or perhaps unable to speak.
“And she said something even stranger—you know how you just ate the whole loaf, or close to it?”
Cam nodded. She didn’t look happy. Good.
“She told me anybody who did that would want more than just a sample of my cooking.” Cam’s eyes flashed for a moment, but she stayed silent.
“I’m not sure what she meant by that, but she said if I couldn’t figure it out, I should ask them.”
She stepped a little closer. Cam’s eyes darkened.
“So, Cam, what do you want?”
A beat. Two beats. Alex felt something shift. This wasn’t a joke anymore. She felt herself being drawn into that steady gaze.
A voice intruded. “Just look at the two of you, standing about with nothing to say for yourselves.” Nicola had most definitely arrived, with the vicar in tow looking less than thrilled to see Alex again. “I see your Maid’s Loaf has gone, Alex. That was quick work. Did you manage to find that special someone already?”
“Well, Mrs. Tate was careful to point out that even if the loaf does its job, I don’t have to get married, do I?” She smiled sweetly at Cam. “There’s nothing wrong with just having a good time, is there?” If looks could kill, Alex knew she would now be pushing up daisies. “And as you said yourself, Nicola, the night is still young.”
“I hope you got a taste at least, Cam. Aunty Elspeth really excelled herself this year. Sarah thought so, too.”
As Nicola rattled on obliviously and the vicar appeared to have discovered something fascinating on the floor, Alex leaned over and hummed a few bars of “There are Fairies at the Bottom of Our Garden” in Cam’s ear.
Cam let out a burst of laughter, hastily disguised as a coughing fit. Alex helpfully pounded her on the back a little harder than was strictly necessary. Nicola looked at them strangely.
“I swear, I don’t know what’s got into you two. Well, I want to dance. Come on, Sarah.”
The two of them vanished onto the already crowded floor. Alex had been too preoccupied to notice the music starting. Whatever it was, she didn’t recognize it, but it definitely had a solid beat. She could feel the floor vibrating.
Cam just stood there a moment, shaking her head and grinning at Alex. “Well done. You’ve got a bit of your own back.” She offered her hand with a fancy flourish. “If Miss would care to join me?”
Alex batted her eyes and delicately clasped the proffered hand. “Miss would indeed.”
Cam drew Alex smoothly into her arms and glided with her into the midst of the dancers.
*
One dance became half a dozen. Alex didn’t consider herself much of a dancer, but Cam made it so easy, she forgot everything except how much fun she was having. Even when the band switched from contemporary to more traditional dance tunes—which they played surprisingly well—she and Cam never even paused.
Cam led her effortlessly through a lively number that might have been a polka. Alex enjoyed whirling around the floor but decided Mrs. Tate was absolutely right; it would have been even better in a skirt.
The next dance was something slow and Latin, and Cam took full advantage of it, holding Alex close and leading with her body as well as hand pressure. Alex let herself drift into a pleasant daze, floating through the moves of the dance without conscious thought, imagining it was just the two of them alone, swaying together on a deserted beach under a tropical moon. Wishing it were true.
It took a moment for her to realize that the music had stopped completely. Probably the band was taking a break.
Cam was still holding her. Alex opened her eyes and looked up. Cam smiled gently.
“Fancy a walk, lass? Somewhere quiet?”
“Yes, I’d—”
“Cam.” Nicola’s quiet voice shattered the moment. Again. She seemed to be making a habit of it.
Cam dropped her arms and Alex stepped away. She looked at Nicola, wondering what on earth she was up to. Nicola was ignoring her completely, standing so close to Cam she was practically touching her, staring at her grimly.
“I’m sorry, Cam, but I thought I’d better tell you…” First she and then Cam focused on something over Alex’s shoulder. Cam’s face turned to stone. Her whole body stiffened.
“Nicola, darling!” Alex recognized the voice instantly. “Where have you been hiding yourself, you naughty girl? I’ve been searching for you in this wretched crowd for simply ages.”
Nicola said, “I’m sorry, Rosamund. I didn’t realize you’d be back in time for the party.”
Alex turned to see the self-same Ms. Camberwell standing just behind her, exquisite in a clinging emerald sheath whose slit skirt and plunging bodice saved observers the bother of having to imagine very much. Alex, for one, certainly appreciated this thoughtfulness. Rosamund’s flaming hair spilled negligently over one shoulder in a charmingly natural way that must have taken at least an hour to perfect.
“Never mind, darling, you’ll just have to make it up to me later.” She gave Nicola’s hand a quick squeeze, in the process easing her to one
side and stepping forward to stand between Nicola and Alex.
Letting go of Nicola’s hand, Rosamund lasered Alex with those too-green eyes.
“And here’s the other one I’ve been hunting for.”
Now why does that make me feel like a rabbit being spotted by a kestrel? Alex put a smile on her face, hoping it looked genuine.
“Alex, darling, you’re even lovelier than when I saw you last.”
Of course, that wasn’t quite the compliment it might have been, considering Rosamund had only seen her once before, which weighted the odds pretty heavily in favor of improvement.
“Thank you, Ms. Camberwell.”
Rosamund placed a casual hand on Alex’s shoulder, and all rational thought vaporized.
“Now, Alex, you know better. It’s Rosamund.” The hand squeezed slightly for emphasis on the last word.
Alex made no response, being incapable of doing anything at all except gaze into that beautiful face while continuing to absorb the warmth of the contact that somehow spread from her shoulder all the way through the rest of her body.
Rosamund paused, her hand still in place, and looked past Alex. Her smile tightened just a fraction. “Cam. It’s so good to see you again.”
“Rosamund. Not backward at coming forward, as per usual.”
Rosamund laughed, a tinkling bell only slightly out of tune. “Darling Cam! Always so colorful!”
Cam turned and she looked at Alex, never meeting her eyes but staring for a long moment at Rosamund’s hand on her shoulder. “I’m off, then.” And just like that, she was gone.
Rosamund removed her hand from Alex’s shoulder. “Nicola, do be an angel and fetch me a drink. This instant, darling, before I utterly perish from thirst.”
“What would you like, Rosamund?”
“Why champers, darling! Whatever else?”
“There won’t be any champagne, I’m afraid. They do have beer and cider, or I could get you a fizzy drink.”
Rosamund shuddered delicately. “Now, darling, do be sensible—how can I possibly be expected to get through the evening without alcohol? I suppose cider will have to do—but only if it’s decent stuff and not that horrid scrumpy.”
“Certainly, Rosamund.”
As Nicola went off in search of acceptable refreshment, Rosamund turned to face Alex. “Alone at last!” The bell-like laugh seemed to be back in tune. “Alex, darling, I know I’ve neglected you shamefully. Do please say you’ll forgive me.”
Another casual touch. This time the hand was on Alex’s elbow, and equally effective at depriving her of the ability to form sentences.
“The Foundation summoned me to London, as they so frequently do, you know. And as usual by the time they finally thought to call me in, things had already reached a critical stage. Sorting out all the wretched details took simply forever. And here you were the entire time, having to manage all alone.” She leaned forward, gazing deep into Alex’s eyes. “I do so hope you’ll let me make it up to you.”
Alex managed to dredge up a murmur of assent, to what she wasn’t at all sure.
“Marvelous! Dance with me, darling.” Rosamund grabbed Alex’s hand and dragged her back onto the dance floor, right past the returning Nicola. Alex barely managed to avoid tripping over her feet, but even so Nicola ended up spilling the drink she was carrying, most of which seemed to end up on her dress. Alex called an apology over her shoulder as the oblivious Rosamund pulled her away.
Dancing with Rosamund was quite an experience. Rosamund closed the distance between them and put her arms around Alex’s waist. When Alex reflexively reacted by grasping Rosamund’s shoulders, she pulled Alex right up against her.
The full-body contact zinged through Alex so sharply that it took a moment for her to realize that Rosamund wasn’t moving. Not wanting to just stand there, and not knowing what else to do, Alex started swaying from side to side, hoping the movements didn’t feel as awkward to Rosamund as they did to her. Cam had made it all seem so easy and natural, Alex had forgotten what a bad dancer she usually was.
She must have been doing something right, however, because when the next song started—another slow one—Rosamund rested her head against Alex’s shoulder. Alex forgot everything except Rosamund, the feel of her body, the scent of her hair. She floated on a cloud of sensation until Rosamund stopped moving and pulled back a little, taking Alex by one hand. The music had stopped, so the band must have decided to take another break.
That thought led inevitably to another one. Alex glanced quickly around the room but saw no sign of Cam anywhere. She did see Nicola leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking miffed. As she had every right to be.
Feeling ashamed that she had allowed herself to be distracted for so long, Alex made a beeline for Nicola, pulling Rosamund along with her. When they finally reached Nicola, Alex stammered out an apology for the mishap, offering to pay for having her dress cleaned. Nicola stared down at their clasped hands for a moment before coldly thanking Alex and making herself scarce.
Alex felt awful. It’s not as if she had planned to—What? Well, to do whatever you would call what had just been going on between her and Rosamund. Flirting? Something more? In any case, surely her reaction to Rosamund’s obvious interest had been just as much of an accident as her near-collision with Nicola. It’s not that she had ignored Nicola’s feelings, exactly, let alone deliberately set out to snatch Rosamund away from her. In actual fact, she hadn’t been thinking about anything at all. Didn’t that mean that whatever had happened wasn’t really her fault?
Unfortunately Alex’s guilt over the hurt and anger on Nicola’s face refused to diminish, despite this supremely logical self-justification. She wished she could talk the whole thing over with someone—along with whatever the hell was going on with Cam, as well. Ironically, the person she most wanted to discuss it with was Nicola herself.
To make things worse, Rosamund was asking questions, obviously mystified by the entire exchange, and not exactly pleased that Alex wasn’t really answering her. Alex could hardly explain that the real reason Nicola was so angry was because she had a crush on Rosamund and was jealous. Still, by not saying anything, Alex was making it seem that Nicola was throwing a hissy fit over her dress, which made her look petty, not a nice impression to give her boss.
She finally settled for saying that she’d had words with Nicola earlier, being as vague as possible while trying to make it sound like it was all her own fault rather than Nicola’s, and could she get Rosamund something to drink?
It seemed that she could. Unfortunately, the line at the bar was long, and by the time she had managed to acquire two glasses of cider and return, Rosamund had vanished. When Alex finally spotted her, she was chatting animatedly with the slightly dazed-looking vicar while resting one delicate hand on her arm.
Alex downed both ciders and stomped home.
*
Cam wasn’t quite sure how she had ended up outside Dawson House, sitting on the waist-high wall beside the gatepost, telling her troubles to the ginger cat that was always hanging about the place. One minute she was storming out of the village hall, wanting to smash something, determined to walk and keep walking until the feeling went away. The next thing she knew, she was sitting here in the moonlight, petting this ball of fur that purred like a motorbike with a bad silencer and complaining about women. And life in general, and the high price of petrol, and the blister she was getting from her new pair of shoes. But mostly women.
“You’re not a bad listener, are you, cat? Cheaper than a therapist, that’s for certain. And less gossipy than a bartender.”
The cat jumped up and scurried off.
“What, you don’t fancy compliments?”
Then she heard the footsteps coming toward her. It didn’t take psychic powers to predict that they belonged to the one person she least wanted to see.
Sure enough, it was Alex, and by the way she was striding along, ever so slightly out of step, it was obvious she was
both quite unhappy and somewhat tipsy. Cam momentarily considered beating a strategic retreat, deciding against it mostly because she didn’t think she was likely to escape unobserved, and she refused to be seen sneaking away like a thief. Especially when, unlike some people, she hadn’t done anything wrong.
Too soon, Alex caught sight of her. She came to a dead stop, swayed just a bit, then marched right up to Cam. “So, what, are you stalking me now?”
“Nice to see you, too. Got a right monk on, haven’t you?”
“What’s that in English?”
Cam opened her mouth to translate but Alex cut her off.
“Forget it—don’t try to change the subject. What are you doing here?”
“Minding my own business, not that it’s any of yours.”
“And you just happen to be doing it on my doorstep at midnight. What’s that you said the other night—Pull the other one, it’s got bells on? So what the hell do you want?”
“Not a bloody thing. It’s a public thoroughfare.” She took a closer look at Alex, whose eyes were a little hazy. “Just how much have you had?”
“About as much as I can take, thank you very much. What is it with you people around here, anyway, dancing with a person and then running away or—”
“I didn’t run off, I left. Just because I didn’t care to stand about watching you and Rosamund carrying on—”
“What, did Nicola come crying to you about how I broke her heart? Where is she, hiding in the bushes? Come out, come out, wherever you are! Don’t be a fraidy cat—I won’t bite. Unless you ask nicely.”
“You broke Nicola’s heart? Well that’s just famous, that is. How’d you manage it, if I may be so bold as to inquire?”
“All I did was dance with Rosamund a couple of times. Okay, maybe it was more than a couple of times, and maybe I was holding her kind of close during those slow numbers…”
Cam could feel a ball of fury forming in the pit of her stomach. Alex just kept right on talking, as usual.
“But seriously, I don’t understand why she’s so mad. It’s not like I was kissing her in the middle of the dance floor or anything.”