A harsh noise rattled through the room, his foot catching on a large metal bucket sticking out from beneath one of the shelves, reminding him where they were. ‘Christ.’ He released her hips, bracing his hands on the door above her head as sense finally returned to him. He’d just shared the most profoundly intimate moment of his life in a bloody cleaning cupboard with a woman who’d been sobbing fit to break her heart not moments before.
‘Will?’ Igraine’s voice came out on a shaking breath, her little nails digging into his back a request to continue which he wanted to obey with every fibre of his being. But there’d been a hint of something in her tone, a whisper of uncertainty beneath the breathy desire.
Raising a hand that shook from the vestiges of adrenaline still coursing through him, he rested the pads of his fingers against her cheek. ‘Not here, not like this.’
Her lips parted as though to protest before she nodded. ‘No, of course, you’re right.’
Colour darkened the skin beneath his fingers, and he bit back a groan of frustration as he pressed a sharp hot kiss to her mouth. ‘Not because I don’t want to. Tell me you understand that.’ He kissed her again, a quick demand. ‘Tell me, Igraine.’
‘I understand,’ she whispered against his cheek. ‘Your timing is atrocious, though.’
Will laughed, the whipcord tension inside easing enough he could take a small step away from her. The sight of her blouse hanging open, the delicate lace of her bra peeking through the gap, was almost enough to unman him. Cursing himself for indeed having the very worst timing in the world, he began the painful task of rebuttoning her blouse, an act which felt almost more intimate than the hot rush of desire that had had him wrenching it open.
With tentative hands, Igraine reached around his waist to tuck his T-shirt back inside his jeans, smoothing and petting over the heavy cotton once she’d finished, as though she couldn’t quite bring herself to draw her hands away. He knew the feeling. His own hand still rested inside the open collar of her blouse to cup the beautiful curve where her shoulder met her neck. ‘I don’t want you to think I was trying to take advantage of you.’
‘Is that what you think just happened?’ The languid, liquidity of her body stiffened, and her hands fell away. There wasn’t much room, but she took a small step back until she was flat against the door once more. Taking the hint, he tugged his reluctant fingers from her skin and made more space between them.
Damn it, he was going to blow whatever the hell this was between them if he wasn’t careful. ‘You were really upset, Igraine.’ Her sharp little chin rose in a defiant gesture and he gripped it between a gentle finger and thumb. ‘Really upset.’ He traced his finger along her jaw until he felt her relax beneath his touch. ‘It’s very easy to mistake one kind of emotion for another.’
‘So, what? You were just trying to comfort me and got carried away?’ Bloody hell, she was spikier than a hedgehog. Tristan had warned him it took a lot for her to let her guard down, and he hadn’t been kidding.
Not wanting there to be any mistakes or misunderstandings between them, he closed the distance until she was pressed tight between himself and the door once more. ‘You’re not getting out of this by convincing yourself my feelings towards you are anything other than desire. I want to kiss you again, Igraine. Very soon. I just want you to be a hundred per cent sure of your own feelings before I do.’ He pressed a hot, possessive kiss to her lips, then spun her away from the door so he could tug it open. ‘Come on, let’s find that champagne.’
*
A chorus of cheers and applause went up as they returned to the family room, Igraine clutching a bottle of champagne beaded in condensation, he with seven crystal flutes suspended by their necks between his fingers. Tristan had joined the others by this time, and he came over to help Will set the glasses out on the sideboard whilst Igraine twisted the wire cage off the neck of the bottle and removed the cork in a quick efficient twist of her wrist. If he wasn’t already half in love, or lust, or whatever the hell was making his head spin and his pulse pound, that casual gesture might have pushed him over the edge.
He loved the way she took control of things, didn’t defer to a man when it was something she was capable of doing herself. It was sexy, in the same way she didn’t bother to plaster herself in make-up all the time. He’d noticed some evenings that her lashes were a little thicker and darker where she’d added a touch of mascara, that she might select a lip colour to match whatever outfit she’d chosen for dinner, but he never got the impression she was doing it for any other reason than to please herself. Luckily, this evening had been one she’d chosen not to wear make-up, so at least there were no mascara streaks to hint at her earlier upset.
If anyone noticed how long they’d been absent, or the touch of redness around Igraine’s eyes, they didn’t say anything as the two of them moved around the room distributing glasses of bubbling, straw-pale champagne until everyone had a glass. There was also no hint of her earlier turmoil when Igraine raised her drink towards her brother and Lucie to toast them. ‘Here’s to Arthur and Lucie. Long life, love and happiness to you both. Always.’
‘Hear, hear.’ Will raised his glass and sipped, his eyes closing for a moment at the chilly perfection of the champagne bursting across his taste buds. He still had no idea what had upset Igraine, but now was not the time to pursue it. She’d tell him at some point-or not. Given how quickly she tended to draw up her defences whenever she felt vulnerable, she’d never tell him if he tried to push her on it. If he wanted to give things between them a chance to develop, he’d have to tread carefully. Let her come to him. He dug his nails into his palm, knowing already how hard the next few days were going to test his self-control.
Lancelot and Morgana had taken up occupation on the sofa where he’d been sitting, with Arthur and Lucie ensconced on the other, and Tristan lounging at their feet with his back propped against the end cushion close to Lucie’s feet. Most of the dogs had been shooed from the room at some point, leaving only Tristan’s little wheaten terrier curled in his lap and the pair of greyhounds snoozing in front of the fire. The only free seat was the armchair, and Will gestured to Igraine that she should take it.
The arm of the chair was wide enough for him to lean against, but that would go against his decision not to crowd her, so he propped his hip on the edge of the sofa nearest to Morgana. His notebook had been tucked into the gap between the seat cushion and the arm beside him, he noticed. Retrieving it, he began to flick backwards and forwards through his sketches and notes. He’d planned to talk to everyone tomorrow, but as they were all here, he might as well get on with it.
Rising, he crossed the room to place the open notebook on Igraine’s lap, returning her look of surprise with a surreptitious wink before resuming his casual pose against the sofa arm once more. ‘As everyone is here, I thought I’d take a few minutes of your time to talk about a suggestion I have for the grounds here.’
He took a quick sip of his champagne as all eyes in the room turned towards him. ‘Igraine has the existing gardens well in hand.’ He paused to smile at her. ‘I’m not sure she ever really needed my input, but I’m not sorry she wanted it and I’m very happy to be here.’ Okay, so that was laying it on a bit thick, perhaps. So much for self-control. Theory and practice were going to be two very different things, apparently. Fire sparked in her hazel-gold eyes, a hint of laughter and warning and Will had to make himself look away from the promise of it all.
‘Anyway, I was going over the old garden plans and I spotted a feature in the grounds which set my brain whirring, so I’ve come up with a design that I hope you will all like.’
‘You’re talking about something new, rather than just tidying up what’s already here?’ Arthur sat forward a little, one arm sprawled across Lucie’s knee as though he needed to keep in contact with her. Will understood the feeling all too well, and wished he was at ease to do the same with Igraine.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the baronet, Will n
odded. ‘There’s a flat plateau of land beyond the stand of poplars.’
‘I know where you mean, lad, there’s that godawful bank leading down to it. I have to keep the horses away from it so they don’t break a leg. When we were putting the gallops in, we made sure to do it well away from that part of the parkland.’
Will swivelled his attention towards Lancelot. ‘So, you don’t use that part of the grounds?’
The older man shook his head. ‘No one does, not unless they’re out walking. Whatever you have in mind wouldn’t have any impact on my work at the stables.’ Well, that was one more tick in the plus column. It hadn’t looked to Will like the area was in regular use, but Lancelot’s confirmation was more than welcome.
‘Fountains,’ Igraine said, holding up one of his pages covered in sketches. ‘You want to put fountains in the middle of a flat open space no one uses?’
‘No.’ Will crossed to take the pad from her hand and flipped it over to a double-page concept sketch. ‘I want to terrace the slope and turn it into a water garden.’ He pointed to the top edge of the drawing. ‘It would not only act as a feature in its own right, but also provide a beautiful backdrop.’
‘Backdrop to what?’ Tristan was up on his knees, leaning forward to try and catch a glimpse of the sketch on Igraine’s lap.
Will handed him the notebook. ‘To whatever you want. That plateau is almost a natural amphitheatre. You could host open air concerts there, get people to bring along blankets and picnics. Or you were talking about a summer fete to celebrate opening the grounds. It’s big enough to take a load of stalls, with room for a display ground in the centre for live music, or whatever.’
‘They have companies that tour Shakespeare plays and the like.’ Tristan’s voice was full of enthusiasm, and Will could tell he already had one supporter for his plan. ‘I saw them at a country house on the outskirts of London when I was living there.’ He looked up at Will. ‘Like you said, everyone brought a picnic and chairs or blankets. It was a great evening.’
‘Exactly. And if you decide to do regular evening events, I could incorporate a light display into the fountains. Either something simple where you can set the bulbs to a fixed array of colours, or something a bit more sophisticated so you could have a programmable sound and light display.’
He shifted his gaze to where Arthur and Lucie sat together, another idea forming. ‘You could also hire it out as a private space for functions. Link up with a marquee hire place, or one of those firms that does that fancy camping thing like they do at the big music festivals.’ He knew there was a term for it, but he couldn’t bring it to mind.
‘Glamping?’ Lucie asked.
‘Yes.’ Will snapped his fingers. ‘You see it all the time in the Sunday supplements. People love that kind of thing, and are willing to pay a pretty penny for it.’ His attention slid to the ring on her hand. ‘You could even offer it for people who want to hold their weddings somewhere special.’
Her eyes widened and he knew another fish had swallowed the bait on his hook. ‘Oh, yes.’ Clutching Arthur’s arm, she turned to him. ‘Imagine it! A lovely formal ceremony in the chapel followed by a fabulous party under the stars.’
‘You two could do a trial run,’ Tristan butted in, grinning at the newly engaged couple. ‘I’ll organise the whole thing!’
‘Steady on, we’ve only been engaged an hour,’ Arthur protested, but he was smiling as he said it. He turned to Lucie. ‘Do you think it might be what you want, though? Rather than something a bit more traditional here in the castle?’
‘I think it sounds like exactly what I want, and like Tristan said we could be guinea pigs to see if it’s a viable business opportunity.’
Arthur glowered down at her. ‘We are not using our wedding day as an experiment. What if something goes wrong?’
Lucie shrugged, apparently not the least bit concerned. ‘What if it does? As long as you put a ring on my finger, and we say “I do” in the right place, I don’t really care about the rest of it.’ She leaned in to kiss Arthur. ‘A wedding is only one day; it’s getting to be married to you for the rest of my life that’s important.’
Arthur rested his forehead against hers. ‘I’ll give you anything you want, Luce. Anything as long as it makes you as happy as I am right now.’
Feeling like he was intruding on something very private, Will deliberately turned away to face Tristan. ‘You’d be interested in planning that kind of thing?’
Tristan nodded. ‘It’s my bread-and-butter. What I used to do before I came home last year. I’m already working on some house-party ideas for events we can host in the castle, if we can incorporate external parties in the summer months then it puts a lot less strain on the household.’
‘It all sounds great.’ There was a flatness to Igraine’s statement, and Will felt his excitement wane. She was going to throw some spanner in the works, he could sense it.
‘But?’
Her eyes met his. ‘How much is this going to cost us? I hadn’t budgeted for an exclusive Will Talbot design.’
Indignation hit like a punch to the gut, and Will felt his temper flare as hot and wild as the passion she’d stirred within him not half an hour before. He was about to snap back, when he noticed the stiff way she was holding herself, the way she nibbled at her bottom lip for a moment before pursing her lips as though to stop herself. Every line of her body seemed to vibrate with tension. Perhaps her earlier upset was resurfacing now he’d unintentionally returned the topic of conversation to Arthur and Lucie’s engagement.
No.
The little glances from under her lashes weren’t aimed at the couple on the sofa, but at him. She wasn’t thinking about her earlier tears; she was thinking about the two of them and what had happened in that storage cupboard. She was running scared, he realised, hoping if she insulted him, he’d take offence and tell her where to stick her bloody garden. A sly thread of pleasure wound through his gut. No way was he letting her off that easily. Yes, he would give her time to sort through her feelings, but that didn’t mean he was willing to give up before they’d started.
Whether she was ready to acknowledge it or not, there was something special between them. Something with the potential to set roots. Something that if nurtured carefully would bloom and grow. He thought about what Arthur had said to his fiancée, the serious expression on his face and her answering look of adoration. Will had never seen himself as the kind of man who’d want that sort of entanglement for himself, not until right now. The rolling stone of his life had come to a sudden halt, right here in the heart of this wild Derbyshire beauty. ‘I’ll do it for the cost of the materials and hired labour only.’
‘You can’t do that,’ she gasped.
‘It’s my company, I can do whatever the hell I want.’
He turned to Arthur. ‘I’ll work up a full price for you, but there’s no charge for my time or the design. Your hospitality and the chance to leave my own mark is payment enough.’ He swung his gaze back to Igraine, took in her half-open mouth, the pleading expression in her eyes begging him to change his mind. ‘I’ll separate the different options out for you,’ he said, his gaze unwavering. ‘So you can make a fully informed choice.’
Chapter 12
A fully informed choice. Forty-eight hours since he’d uttered them, those bloody words of Will’s were still ricocheting around Iggy’s head. She stared gloomily at her congealing breakfast. It was enough to put a woman off her cornflakes. He hadn’t been talking about the costs for the water garden, either. As soon as she’d understood the details of his vision, she’d fallen in love with the idea. It would be a wonderful complement to the other parts of the gardens, and people who might not have visited otherwise would be drawn by his name being attached to the design.
She’d originally assumed they’d host the summer fete on the rear lawn between the conservatory and the stables-it had certainly worked for their impromptu Easter celebrations with the locals from the village. But as h
e’d outlined his different ideas for using the plateau, she realised it would be a much better spot. Not only was it a lot larger, it was also well away from the castle itself. The locals had been respectful of the location, but other visitors might not be. They’d wander wherever they could, given a chance. They also couldn’t afford strangers snooping around the stable blocks or trying to get into the conservatory unsupervised.
That suggestion of his about hosting weddings there had been inspired. Lucie was already gung-ho for the idea and she and Tristan had talked about nothing but marquees, temporary dancefloors and decorations for the past couple of evenings. Even Aunt Morgana had been bitten by the wedding bug, suggesting to Arthur he should place an announcement in the newspaper, and offering to host a small engagement tea for the women of the household once Lucie’s mother, Constance, had joined them later that week. She’d been delighted with the news of her daughter’s engagement, and when Iggy had said she’d love some help overseeing things in the gardens, Constance had agreed with alacrity and an extended visit had been planned. Iggy adored Constance and couldn’t wait to discuss her plans for the Friends of the Castle projects with her.
Lancelot entered the dining room, whistling a tune that was far too jaunty for 6.30 a.m. Iggy wasn’t the only one looking forward to Constance’s arrival, it seemed. They’d had something of a liaison at the Easter party, and Iggy for one was hoping the two of them might rekindle the attraction. She couldn’t remember her uncle being in a relationship. Not one that he’d shared with the rest of the family, at least. It wasn’t that he lived like a monk, but the women he saw all seemed to be on a casual basis, and he never brought any of them home.
He stopped in his tracks when he spotted her. ‘Hello, early bird! I wasn’t expecting to see anyone else up and about this morning.’
‘I haven’t been sleeping great,’ she admitted. ‘Too much on my mind.’ Like handsome gardeners who were too damned good at kissing for their own good. Every time she closed her eyes, she was transported back to that moment in the storage cupboard. If Will hadn’t knocked against that bucket when he had, she had no idea what might have happened between them. A blush heated her cheeks and she quickly ducked over her bowl, pretending to spoon up a mouthful of soggy cornflakes. Oh, she had every idea about what would have happened. Her dreams the past two nights had shown her in embarrassingly graphic detail. Which was another reason she was up so early that morning.
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