by Marie Laval
‘That’s true. She was stunning. My grandmother had old photos of her. I’ll ask my granddad to dig them out if you want.’
‘So it seems that Ruth was the swan and Vaillant the hunchback.’ He let out a harsh laugh. ‘A bit like you and me, now that I think about it. You’re the beautiful swan and I’m the grumpy infirm.’
She refused to take the bait. He was no hunchback, no cripple. He was a strong, vibrant man, and if he wanted her to say otherwise then he could wait for a long time. She sat up, bent down to retrieve the feather duster from the side of the bed and tickled his chest.
‘I am flattered to be compared to a swan, but you should know that the only feathers I am prepared to stick on you are these blue ones, and I don’t think they’ll help you glide gracefully on Wolf Tarn.’
She only got a few indulgent smiles for her efforts at tickling him before his hand shot up, his fingers encircled her wrist and he pulled her to him.
‘Enough.’ Desire flashed in his eyes.
‘Or what?’ she asked, licking her dry lips and straddling him.
He didn’t answer but pulled her further towards him, and soon heat and pleasure spread inside her, and all she could think of was to show him how much she wanted him. How much she loved him.
Outside the night had grown silent. The storm must be over.
‘You promised to tell me what was in the diary,’ she said when she rested, content and fulfilled, in the crook of his arm.
So he told her about Vaillant’s stay at Belthorn, about his love for Ruth and his fight with Gideon Hardy at Patterdale Farm. ‘I still have a few pages left to read, but perhaps I could translate the diary for you.’
‘Why don’t you fetch it now so we can make a start?’ She stifled a yawn.
Stefan chuckled and kissed the top of her head. ‘Not now. You should sleep. It’s late.’
‘I’m not tired, and I don’t want to sleep. I want to…’ Her voice trailed off, her eyes closed. Her body slackened, and her thoughts drifted away like clouds pushed by the wind.
‘It’s been a long and exciting day,’ she thought she heard him whisper just before she fell asleep, ‘and this little fairy has to rest…’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
‘Tim is here,’ Cassie announced as she glanced out of the window to see her cousin’s tractor pull up in front of the manor house.
Stefan wrapped his arms around her and she nestled against him. ‘I was hoping we could stay snowed in a while longer.’
‘So did I, all the more because I have that dreaded performance review with Piers this morning.’ She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. He slid his hands on her hips, drew her closer and kissed her until she was hot and breathless.
The sound of the tractor horn outside made them jump, and she tore herself from Stefan’s embrace.
‘I’ll ask Tim in for breakfast, if you don’t mind,’ Cassie said. ‘Knowing him, he must have been out clearing roads since dawn.’
‘Good idea. I’ll make some coffee.’
She opened the door as Tim was jumping from the cabin of the tractor. He opened his eyes wide when he saw her on the threshold.
‘Cassie? What are you doing here, and where is your van?’
‘I had to leave it at the campsite overnight. The road to Red Moss was blocked so I came back here with Stefan. We both thought it was the most sensible option, but it turned out that Stefan’s Range Rover couldn’t get up the lane and we had to walk back in the end.’ She was aware of talking too fast, and too much, but she couldn’t help herself.
Tim nodded. ‘Yes, I saw it near the Sanctuary Stone. I’ll pull it out of the ditch with my tractor on my way back. It shouldn’t be too hard.’ He frowned and looked at her. ‘I hope you didn’t have too many nightmares. I know how much you hate this place.’
She gave a casual shrug but it felt like her face was on fire. ‘It wasn’t too bad. I was tired and I slept like a dream. All night… in one of the guest rooms… on my own.’ She stopped babbling and let out a forced giggle.
‘Hmm… Did you, now?’ Her cousin smiled slowly.
Her face must be bright red. She cleared her throat. ‘Anyway, I’m sure you could do with a hot drink.’
‘Great idea.’ Tim frowned. ‘Are you sure you’re all right? You look a bit flustered.’
She let out a silly laugh. ‘Of course I’m all right. Come in.’
Tim followed her into the kitchen where Stefan was making a pot of coffee. The two men shook hands and started talking about the weather and the state of the roads while Cassie tried to calm herself down by slicing up some bread. The last thing she wanted was for Tim to suspect that something had happened between Stefan and her and report back to Rachel, and her granddad.
Stefan poured coffee into three mugs and handed her one.
‘It makes a change, me waiting on you,’ he remarked.
‘Thanks.’ Their fingers brushed, causing her face to heat up again.
‘My pleasure.’ Stefan’s voice had gone deeper. He smiled, and Tim frowned as he glanced from one to the other. He may not be the most perceptive of men, but if they carried on that way he would guess something was going on. She moved away from Stefan, put a pile of toasted bread, some jam and butter on the table and sat down.
‘The Mountain Rescue Service is out training near Patterdale Farm later today,’ Tim told Stefan as they ate breakfast. ‘One of the new SAR helicopters is scheduled to take part. Why don’t you come over so I can introduce you to the team? It’s not every day we have an ace helicopter pilot at Red Moss.’
Interest flickered in Stefan’s eyes, but almost immediately a bitter line appeared by the side of his mouth. ‘I’m anything but an ace pilot.’ He turned to the window, his face stony.
‘Do come,’ Tim insisted. ‘You might like to compare notes with the pilot about rescue missions in different terrains and weather conditions. You’re used to desert and sandstorms. He deals with mountains and snow blizzards. I’m sure you’ll find it interesting.’
Stefan remained silent for a moment, then nodded. ‘Well… all right, why not?’
‘Great. Come to the farm after lunch, and we’ll go together.’ Tim got up. ‘For now, we’d better pull your car out of the ditch.’
They finished their breakfast and piled up into the tractor’s cabin to rescue Stefan’s Range Rover. They towed it back onto the lane, and Stefan and Cassie were soon on their way to the campsite.
The roads were mostly clear by then and it didn’t take long to get there. Stefan didn’t talk much on the way. She wasn’t even sure he listened to a word she said. He helped her out of the Range Rover but he didn’t hold her in his arms as she had hoped. Instead he took a couple of steps back. A fist squeezed her heart until it hurt. Was he trying to tell her that he was having second thoughts about them?
He stood in front of her, and raked his fingers in his hair. ‘Would you like to meet later today? We could go to the pub, or get a takeaway pizza and eat at Belthorn. That way, you could stop over tonight again, if you didn’t want to drive back to the village, that is…’
He seemed so insecure suddenly that her chest filled with love. He wasn’t letting her down at all. He was afraid that she had changed her mind! She would have to show him that she wanted him more than ever. Closing the gap between them, she linked her arms around his neck, and tilted her face right up to look into his eyes.
‘I would like that very much. I’m meeting Kerry here at six, so I’ll get the pizza afterwards and come to Belthorn to play with you and my feather duster. How does that sound?’
He didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything, but his eyes grew darker and he encircled her in his arms and lifted her up until she was almost at eye level with him. And whilst her feet dangled from the ground and she was pressed against his chest, he kissed her – a long, hot, leisurely kiss that made her heart dance and her soul fly.
When he finally put her down, she had trouble catching her breath. She loved him so m
uch… She had to tell him, but not now. She would tell him later, when they were alone at Belthorn.
For now, she mumbled a feeble, ‘See you tonight.’
She climbed into the van, waved him goodbye, and set off on her way home, with love and sunshine in her heart, blue sky in her eyes and a huge grin on her face. Was it possible to be so happy? She had been thoroughly loved and would be again, if Stefan made good on the hot promises he had whispered to her the night before and his parting kiss was anything to go by.
Gritting trucks and snowploughs had been out in force, and she was back at Bluebell Cottage in no time. She changed, gathered her files for her meeting with Piers, and was about to leave when her eyes fell on her design books. She recalled the article about Nathan in the design magazine. Perhaps she was indeed naïve, but she couldn’t believe that the man she admired so much and had had such a massive crush on would be dishonest enough to use her work without giving her credit for it.
She had to get in touch with him, but it would take time and tact to write without appearing hysterical or vindictive, and right now she was in a rush. The email would have to wait.
Piers greeted her with a frown. ‘You’re late.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, hot and flustered from rushing across the town centre. ‘It’s market day, and the town centre is so busy I had to park on the lakeside.’
He didn’t need to know that she had stopped at a stall of hand knitted woolly hats to buy Stefan a hat almost identical to her own, and a hardware shop for his very own feather duster. She couldn’t stop grinning as she imagined him unwrapping his silly presents on Christmas Day…
Piers gestured for her to take a seat, and she sank into the leather armchair in front of his desk while he flicked open a thick file. After a couple of minutes, he looked up, his pale blue eyes filled with concern, and asked in a soft voice.
‘How are you, Cassie?’
‘I’m fine, thank you.’
He shook his head. ‘No, really. How are you?’
‘I told you. I’m—’
He lifted his hand to stop her. ‘Coping with your clients, the holiday cottages and Belthorn on your own can’t be easy now that Sophie has left.’
She shrugged. ‘I am busy, that’s true, but I have managed so far.’
He looked down, flicked through a few papers and pulled a sheet out. ‘Are you sure about that? I regret to have to tell you that I’ve had some complaints about some of the holiday cottages.’
The blood drained from her face. ‘Really?’
‘I’m afraid so.’ He started reading. ‘We found a dirty dishcloth behind the television when we arrived at Lakeview Cottage, and one of the beds wasn’t made although we had booked for four people.’
‘But…’ She had made up the beds in both bedrooms, she was sure of it. As for the dishcloth, there was no way she would have misplaced it behind the television… Was there?
He lifted a hand. ‘Let me finish.’ He looked down again and carried on reading, ‘The cottage was dusty and old-fashioned.’
‘I cleaned the cottage thoroughly as usual and can assure you that there wasn’t a speck of dust when the guests arrived. And you can hardly blame me for the furniture and the wallpaper being old-fashioned! I did suggest a few changes to you to give the holiday cottages a fresh new look but you declined.’
He gave her a patronising smile. ‘You’re a cleaner, not a designer. It’s not your job to give houses makeovers… Anyway, this wasn’t the only complaint.’
He looked down. ‘Very disappointed with our stay at The Brambles. We didn’t like the biscuits on the welcome tray. We found spiders in the bath when we arrived, and the overpowering smell of lemon in the cottage made my wife sneeze all week.’
‘This couple is demanding compensation or they will write a bad review on a number of holiday internet sites,’ Piers added.
Cassie blew a frustrated breath. ‘I can’t help it if people don’t like Salomé’s biscuits. I always buy the same ones – the ones you agreed to, if I remember correctly. And if this gentleman’s wife was allergic to my cleaning products, they should have put the diffusers outside and told us about it immediately. I would have freshened up the house and cleaned with another product. As for spiders, this is the countryside and I can’t do anything about them.’
She smiled. ‘You know very well that some people will try anything to get a refund. Remember the woman who claimed there were too many Spaniards in Spain and the sand on the beach was too hot?’
Her smile faltered in front of Piers’s stony face.
‘What about all the lovely things people have written about the cottages?’ She opened her file and showed him the printed photos of the guests’ comments praising the clean, friendly feel of the cottages, and the delicious treats on the welcome tray.
Piers didn’t even look down. ‘Bad reviews count more than good ones, you know that. Besides, there is something else. Something a lot more serious.’
He pulled out another sheet, which looked like a list. ‘I had an inventory made of a couple of cottages this week and found discrepancies between what should be there, and what was actually there. Several pieces of equipment appear to be missing. Cast your eyes down the list and tell me what you think is happening here.’
He pushed the paper towards her. She tried to make sense of what she was reading but her heart was beating too fast now, and the words and figures swam in front of her eyes. Was Piers accusing her of theft? It sounded like it. She urged herself to focus on the list of items missing from the cottage inventory: one digital radio, one hairdryer, a luxury blender and juicer, a Bluetooth speaker, and a pair of binoculars.
She frowned and looked up.
‘And that’s just for Riverside and Lakeview,’ Piers said. ‘Who knows how much is missing from the other cottages?’
She pushed the paper back and tried to straighten in the armchair, but it was very deep and she was too small, and it made her feel like a naughty pupil summoned to the head teacher’s office.
‘That is indeed worrying. From what I remember, these cottages haven’t been rented since last October. I haven’t been there for weeks.’
He arched his eyebrows, reclined on his chair and crossed his fingers on his stomach. ‘Still. I would like to hear your views.’
She took a deep breath. ‘What exactly do you want me to say, Piers? Perhaps the inventories weren’t properly recorded after the last rentals.’
‘Or perhaps someone has been helping themselves to the equipment and selling them off in pawn shops, hoping nobody would notice.’
She would not take the bait. If he wanted to accuse her of theft, then he would have to be straightforward about it. ‘That sounds unlikely. I mean, this kind of stuff is hardly going to sell for much.’
He directed one of his innocent baby blue stares at her and arched his eyebrows. ‘You tell me.’
Silence stretched between them.
‘Anyway, we’ll talk about this again in the New Year,’ he said at last. ‘By the way, I had an email from Charlie asking how you have been getting on with Lambert at Belthorn. Having seen the man myself the other day, I gather it can’t be that easy to be around him every day. He is so ugly and battered I bet he gives you nightmares.’ He chuckled.
Anger flashed inside her and she jumped to her feet. ‘How dare you make fun of a brave man who nearly lost his life trying to save people?’
He arched his eyebrows and whistled between his teeth. ‘I had no idea you had taken such a shine to the man.’
‘Stefan is a wonderful man, and it is true that I do… like him very much.’ She loved him, but she couldn’t tell Piers that – couldn’t tell anybody – perhaps not even Stefan.
‘It is true that you seemed to get along quite nicely in the pub the other day.’ Then he smiled and let out a loud breath. ‘Of course, I get it. It’s the bonus!’
‘Sorry?’
‘I should have thought of it before. You’re cosying up to
the guy to make sure you get your bonus at the end of January, aren’t you?’
‘What?’ This time, shock rendered her speechless.
He checked his watch, and rose to his feet. ‘I booked a table at the Troutbeck Hotel for one o’clock. We still have a few things to discuss, including the increase in the rent for Bluebell Cottage.’
Her chest tightened. ‘You never mentioned any rent increase before.’
‘Let’s go for lunch. Talking business will be more pleasant in a less formal setting.’
‘Formal is fine by me.’
‘But you were late and I’m hungry. I can’t talk business on an empty stomach.’ He gave her one of his boyish smiles, patted his belly, and said in a low voice, ‘You know me. I’m a big boy, with a large appetite.’
‘I’m not dressed smartly enough for the Troutbeck,’ she objected, pointing to her dungarees and Doc Martens boots.
‘You look fine. In fact, you’ve never looked more… appealing.’ His gaze travelled from her face down to her boots and back up again, lingering a fraction of a few seconds longer than necessary on her chest.
‘Shall we go?’
She didn’t want to, but what choice did she have?
‘Are you not taking your paperwork?’ she asked.
‘No need. I have all the facts in here.’ He pointed to his forehead.
She pushed her own file back into her bag, slipped her duffle coat on and followed him into the street. The Troutbeck was an upmarket establishment overlooking the park. A waitress welcomed them, led them to a table tucked away in an alcove, and asked them what they wanted to drink.
‘Two glasses of Mumm Champagne,’ Piers told her, without consulting Cassie. ‘Actually, sweetheart, make it a bottle.’
‘I won’t be drinking, Piers. I’m driving.’
‘Nonsense. I bet you don’t drink good champagne very often.’ He sighed and looked around. ‘It’s nice here, isn’t it?’
She nodded, but felt too preoccupied to appreciate her surroundings. ‘Very nice. So, what were you saying about Bluebell Cottage?’
He laughed and raised his hands in front of him. ‘Slow down, Cassie. Let’s enjoy this meal, and each other’s company, first. We have time to talk business.’