hallway I can see the light reflecting off two bright eyes.
“I think the lady said no,” a voice drawls quietly but
assertively.
“Yeah, right,” Pete says, backing away and looking
embarrassed. “Sorry,” he says, looking at me. I just nod at him and watch him
depart.
“Thank you,” I whisper, lurching back towards where James
had been standing, but he’s already gone and all I hear is the click of his
door closing.
Chapter 12
In the morning the light wakes me early because neither
Annie nor I had thought to close the curtains in our drunken stupor, and anyway
I’ve always tended to be an early riser ever since I had the boys. I creep to
the shower before pulling on some fresh clothes, trying all the while not to
wake Annie. I needn’t have worried; it seems she sleeps like the proverbial dead.
A glance at my watch tells me it’s 6.30am, and I’m gasping for a cup of tea –
fortunately the only symptom of my excesses from the night before. Thank God I
don’t tend to get hangovers. I make my way down the now familiar route to the
kitchen, find the kettle, mugs and tea and make myself a cup. The house is
silent. I wander from room to room, discovering two more sitting rooms, a
games room which included a snooker table, a formal dining room and a library.
I return to the prettiest sitting room and stand at the picture window, admiring
the view out over the countryside. The theme tune to the James Herriott All
Creatures Great and Small vet T.V. programme (I had watched when I was a kid)
starts playing in my mind, and I start humming it as I stand there drinking my
tea.
“Wrong county,” a voice from behind startles me.
“Sorry?”
“All Creatures Great and Small. It was filmed in North
Yorkshire, and we’re in Derbyshire.”
“Oh,” I say faintly as he walks further into the room,
embarrassed again. Why do I always feel so stupid around him? I wonder.
He’s wearing jeans, faded by years of wear rather than fashion, and a fleecy
jumper. He manages to look sexy and yet dressed for the elements. How does
he do that? What is it about rich people that they always have just the right
outfit for any occasion?
“How are you feeling?” he enquires. “Hungover?”
“No,” I say a tad defensively. An image of him seeing Pete
off the night before flashes to mind. “Sorry for disturbing you last night,” I
say, blushing slightly.
“I wasn’t asleep.”
“Oh, well thank you anyway.” Why does every conversation
feel so awkward with him? I wonder . I move to the fireplace and
pick up the photo of him with his arm around a striking blonde. She looks
vaguely familiar. I recognise the location as the top of the staircase in the
house.
“My partner,” he says before I ask.
“She’s beautiful,” I force. Entirely perfect for someone
as perfect as him . I feel a spike of jealousy. What right do I have to
feel jealous?
“We’re separated,” he adds. My heart leaps. What the
hell am I thinking? I’m married, for God’s sake!
“You need to be careful, Lily.” He has stepped up behind me
now, and I can feel heat rolling off his body and his warm breath tickling the
back of my neck.
“Why?” I whisper, my mouth suddenly dry, but not from the
alcohol.
“You stand there, a naturally beautiful woman, looking
luscious and sweet with your kissable lips and big innocent brown eyes, and I
want to eat you up.”
His breath is brushing my cheek now, and I have to will
myself not to lean back against his firm chest. I can’t look at him, or I know
I would be lost. My mouth opens slightly, and I feel my nipples tighten at his
proximity. Oh my God, he hasn’t even touched me yet , I think in despair.
“And so do most of the other men on the trip, it seems to
me,” he says, stepping away again, his voice sounding less intimate. “What was
your husband thinking letting you out alone, I wonder?” Is that censure I can
hear in
“I think the lady said no,” a voice drawls quietly but
assertively.
“Yeah, right,” Pete says, backing away and looking
embarrassed. “Sorry,” he says, looking at me. I just nod at him and watch him
depart.
“Thank you,” I whisper, lurching back towards where James
had been standing, but he’s already gone and all I hear is the click of his
door closing.
Chapter 12
In the morning the light wakes me early because neither
Annie nor I had thought to close the curtains in our drunken stupor, and anyway
I’ve always tended to be an early riser ever since I had the boys. I creep to
the shower before pulling on some fresh clothes, trying all the while not to
wake Annie. I needn’t have worried; it seems she sleeps like the proverbial dead.
A glance at my watch tells me it’s 6.30am, and I’m gasping for a cup of tea –
fortunately the only symptom of my excesses from the night before. Thank God I
don’t tend to get hangovers. I make my way down the now familiar route to the
kitchen, find the kettle, mugs and tea and make myself a cup. The house is
silent. I wander from room to room, discovering two more sitting rooms, a
games room which included a snooker table, a formal dining room and a library.
I return to the prettiest sitting room and stand at the picture window, admiring
the view out over the countryside. The theme tune to the James Herriott All
Creatures Great and Small vet T.V. programme (I had watched when I was a kid)
starts playing in my mind, and I start humming it as I stand there drinking my
tea.
“Wrong county,” a voice from behind startles me.
“Sorry?”
“All Creatures Great and Small. It was filmed in North
Yorkshire, and we’re in Derbyshire.”
“Oh,” I say faintly as he walks further into the room,
embarrassed again. Why do I always feel so stupid around him? I wonder.
He’s wearing jeans, faded by years of wear rather than fashion, and a fleecy
jumper. He manages to look sexy and yet dressed for the elements. How does
he do that? What is it about rich people that they always have just the right
outfit for any occasion?
“How are you feeling?” he enquires. “Hungover?”
“No,” I say a tad defensively. An image of him seeing Pete
off the night before flashes to mind. “Sorry for disturbing you last night,” I
say, blushing slightly.
“I wasn’t asleep.”
“Oh, well thank you anyway.” Why does every conversation
feel so awkward with him? I wonder . I move to the fireplace and
pick up the photo of him with his arm around a striking blonde. She looks
vaguely familiar. I recognise the location as the top of the staircase in the
house.
“My partner,” he says before I ask.
“She’s beautiful,” I force. Entirely perfect for someone
as perfect as him . I feel a spike of jealousy. What right do I have to
feel jealous?
“We’re separated,” he adds. My heart leaps. What the
hell am I thinking? I’m married, for God’s sake!
“You need to be careful, Lily.” He has stepped up behind me
now, and I can feel heat rolling off his body and his warm breath tickling the
back of my neck.
“Why?” I whisper, my mouth suddenly dry, but not from the
alcohol.
“You stand there, a naturally beautiful woman, looking
luscious and sweet with your kissable lips and big innocent brown eyes, and I
want to eat you up.”
His breath is brushing my cheek now, and I have to will
myself not to lean back against his firm chest. I can’t look at him, or I know
I would be lost. My mouth opens slightly, and I feel my nipples tighten at his
proximity. Oh my God, he hasn’t even touched me yet , I think in despair.
“And so do most of the other men on the trip, it seems to
me,” he says, stepping away again, his voice sounding less intimate. “What was
your husband thinking letting you out alone, I wonder?” Is that censure I can
hear in
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