something to put in my mouth to keep my teeth from chattering.
“You remember, don’t you, Ellie?”
“That old saying about the crows?” I should not have been surprised that a husband could read his wife’s mind.
“No, the food!” His smile wavered in the mist that had mercifully replaced the rain. “Don’t you recognize it?”
I stared at the assortment of dishes. Of course I recognized lobster and green salad and crusty brown rolls when I saw them, but I wasn’t getting the point of the picture.
“Our first picnic!” Ben ran his fingers through his damp hair, instantly bringing the curl back to life in a way many a woman would have envied. “Surely you rememberon that occasion I prepared this same lobster dish—stewed in white wine, chilled to icy perfection, and dressed with capers and my own special mayonnaise.”
“It is coming back to me.…”
“I can hear myself as if it were yesterday, Ellie, explaining that the mystery ingredient of the rolls was a tablespoon of treacle added to the yeast base. And I remember your exclamations of delight over the salad with its lemon and sweet vermouth dressing.”
“I do recall vaguely …”
“There is nothing the least vague about it!” Perhaps the shadows cast by the beech tree were responsible for the darkening of my husband’s face. “The dressing may be subtle, but it is never insipid. The secret is in the tossing, which must be extraordinarily gentle so as not to bruise the spinach or the baby oak leaf lettuce.”
“Did I say
vaguely
?” I shook my head at such stupidity. My tongue must have slipped on my wet lips. I looked meaningfully up at the clouds. If they dropped any lower, they’d be sitting on our heads like knitted hats. “I meant to say that I
vividly
recalled that first picnic. We had it … outdoors, didn’t we?”
“Under the beech tree in the garden at Merlin’s Court.”
“That’s right!” I beamed, hoping the sun would follow my example, but, cowardlike, it remained resolutely wrapped up in its dirty grey woolies.
“Unfortunately the garden was an impossibility this time.” Ben began spooning lobster onto our plates and garnishing it with radish rosettes and cucumber leaves. “I was thwarted, sweetheart, by the image of Gerta tying red and yellow streamers to the trunk of the tree, and she and the twins dancing around the maypole, while you and I were trying to relive our memories. Then I remembered seeing this place with the beech, so strikingly similar to the one at Merlin’s Court.”
“You’ve thought of everything!” I scooted around the wet tablecloth to nestle up close to him. For several moments the warmth of my love for this man, whom I did not deserve, drove back the chilly damp. We ate in a companionable silence, broken only intermittently by the crows’ unmelodious chorus. The rolls were not quite as crusty asusual. But I did not mind and Ben made no apologies for them. It would seem that his sensitivities as a chef had been totally subliminated by his ardour as a husband.
The mist had cleared but, even had it turned into a pea-souper, it could not have masked his mounting passion. His eyes had darkened to a glittering emerald green and a muscle tensed in his jaw as, with intensity of purpose, he removed my half-finished plate from my hand, set it down slowly but surely on the tablecloth, and brought his lips down on mine in a kiss that would have lit a fire within me but for the weather conditions. As it was, it smouldered nicely, and I made no effort to resist as he drew me back to lie upon the grass.
“Alone at last, sweetheart!” His hand caressed my cheek and my throat with feathery delicacy before moving ever lower. Who knows how far things might have gone? Alas, when I turned my head in the throes of a warm rush of pleasure, I interrupted his heavy breathing with a horrified shriek.
“Stop!” I struggled to sit up and immediately fell back down, cracking my head on the wine
“You remember, don’t you, Ellie?”
“That old saying about the crows?” I should not have been surprised that a husband could read his wife’s mind.
“No, the food!” His smile wavered in the mist that had mercifully replaced the rain. “Don’t you recognize it?”
I stared at the assortment of dishes. Of course I recognized lobster and green salad and crusty brown rolls when I saw them, but I wasn’t getting the point of the picture.
“Our first picnic!” Ben ran his fingers through his damp hair, instantly bringing the curl back to life in a way many a woman would have envied. “Surely you rememberon that occasion I prepared this same lobster dish—stewed in white wine, chilled to icy perfection, and dressed with capers and my own special mayonnaise.”
“It is coming back to me.…”
“I can hear myself as if it were yesterday, Ellie, explaining that the mystery ingredient of the rolls was a tablespoon of treacle added to the yeast base. And I remember your exclamations of delight over the salad with its lemon and sweet vermouth dressing.”
“I do recall vaguely …”
“There is nothing the least vague about it!” Perhaps the shadows cast by the beech tree were responsible for the darkening of my husband’s face. “The dressing may be subtle, but it is never insipid. The secret is in the tossing, which must be extraordinarily gentle so as not to bruise the spinach or the baby oak leaf lettuce.”
“Did I say
vaguely
?” I shook my head at such stupidity. My tongue must have slipped on my wet lips. I looked meaningfully up at the clouds. If they dropped any lower, they’d be sitting on our heads like knitted hats. “I meant to say that I
vividly
recalled that first picnic. We had it … outdoors, didn’t we?”
“Under the beech tree in the garden at Merlin’s Court.”
“That’s right!” I beamed, hoping the sun would follow my example, but, cowardlike, it remained resolutely wrapped up in its dirty grey woolies.
“Unfortunately the garden was an impossibility this time.” Ben began spooning lobster onto our plates and garnishing it with radish rosettes and cucumber leaves. “I was thwarted, sweetheart, by the image of Gerta tying red and yellow streamers to the trunk of the tree, and she and the twins dancing around the maypole, while you and I were trying to relive our memories. Then I remembered seeing this place with the beech, so strikingly similar to the one at Merlin’s Court.”
“You’ve thought of everything!” I scooted around the wet tablecloth to nestle up close to him. For several moments the warmth of my love for this man, whom I did not deserve, drove back the chilly damp. We ate in a companionable silence, broken only intermittently by the crows’ unmelodious chorus. The rolls were not quite as crusty asusual. But I did not mind and Ben made no apologies for them. It would seem that his sensitivities as a chef had been totally subliminated by his ardour as a husband.
The mist had cleared but, even had it turned into a pea-souper, it could not have masked his mounting passion. His eyes had darkened to a glittering emerald green and a muscle tensed in his jaw as, with intensity of purpose, he removed my half-finished plate from my hand, set it down slowly but surely on the tablecloth, and brought his lips down on mine in a kiss that would have lit a fire within me but for the weather conditions. As it was, it smouldered nicely, and I made no effort to resist as he drew me back to lie upon the grass.
“Alone at last, sweetheart!” His hand caressed my cheek and my throat with feathery delicacy before moving ever lower. Who knows how far things might have gone? Alas, when I turned my head in the throes of a warm rush of pleasure, I interrupted his heavy breathing with a horrified shriek.
“Stop!” I struggled to sit up and immediately fell back down, cracking my head on the wine
Similar Books
