‘Be careful,’ called Cicely warningly as he began to build up speed, suddenly remembering that that particular bone-shaker had not been in a good state of repair. ‘The brakes don’t -’
But her warning came too late. Heading for the horse trough he lost control of the steering, and tried to apply the brakes. They did not work, and a minute later he was thrown into the water.
Cicely doubled up with mirth.
He sat up, leaning back on his arms, with his knees pulled up in front of him. His jacket and trousers were drenched. Water dripped from his hair, which was black and sleek, revealing the contours of his head. ‘It isn’t funny,’ he said, annoyed, as he pushed himself out of the trough, dripping wet.
‘Oh, but it is!’ gasped Cicely as she clutched her sides. ‘Turnabout’s fair play!’
But then her expression changed as he began walking towards her with the most determined air and a wicked smile on his face, just ready to shake the water all over her.
‘Oh!’ she let out a startled gasp, as she saw him stretch out his dripping wet hands in front of him. ‘Oh, no!’ she exclaimed, still laughing, and then turned and ran back into the stables.
She glanced back over her shoulder, hoping he had given up the pursuit, but on the contrary he was now running after her, and he was gaining on her!
She sprinted into the stables, but it was too late. He took her arm, halting her flight, but she was determined she would not be caught. Trying to shake off his hand she half turned, and tripped on her skirt. She balanced for a moment, but then gravity took effect and she fell back into the sweet-smelling hay - and Alex, trying to prevent her from falling, was caught off-balance and tumbled after her.
And then everything changed.
Cicely’s heart missed a beat, and then it resumed its course, as she was aware of his body pressing down on her. It was intoxicating. As his weight pinned her to the hay, pressing her deeper into the yielding pile, she gasped.
As if in answer he lifted his body so that it was barely touching her own, but if anything that made things worse. Shivers of awareness shot through her and her body felt more vibrant than it had ever felt in her life. Every one of her nerves was on fire. The sensation exhilarated and alarmed her, even as shivers washed over her, thrilling through her entire body from head to foot. For one heady moment she forgot to breathe. And then his face lowered towards hers. It was so close that she could see the rough stubble that covered his chin. The dark shadow drew her eyes and focused them on his mouth. His lips moved closer still, so close that she could feel the heat of his breath, and her eyes began to close.
He kissed her eyelids, then brushed her brow with gossamer-light kisses before trailing his mouth across her cheek towards her lips. And then -
‘Alex!’ came a voice.
‘Roddy,’ said Alex under his breath.
He closed his eyes in anger and then opened them again, pulling away from her and pushing himself to his feet.
‘Alex! Where are you?’ The cry came from the direction of the house.
Shakily, Cicely rose too, gradually breaking free of the spell that had gripped her and suddenly overcome with the enormity of what had just happened. She felt herself flushing to the roots of her hair as she realized she had almost succumbed to his warm, earthy scent and his hypnotic charm.
She took a few moments to steady herself. She looked down and realized that she was covered in tell-tale pieces of hay. With trembling fingers she picked them from her long mauve skirt and her white blouse, before following Alex out of the dimly-lit barn into the sunshine.
Fortunately, Roddy was nowhere in sight. But she was badly shaken by what had just occurred and she had an overwhelming urge to hide from her unruly feelings by running away.
‘I . . . I should be going,’ she said. She did not know what time it was and therefore did not know if it was time for her to go home but she did not care. She could not possibly stay after what had happened.
‘Cicely . . .’ he said.
‘Miss Haringay,’ she said in a sudden panic.
Some of the molten heat left his eyes.
‘Of course,’ he said formally, his voice rigidly controlled. Then he said, ‘I must go and change.’ He turned, as though he were about to go, and then said, ‘I hope this will not affect our working relationship.’ He hesitated. ‘You need not be afraid of me. There will be no more . . . horse play . . . in future, I assure you.’ He made an attempt at lightness. ‘One ducking in the trough is quite enough!’
She appreciated his attempt to take the tension out of the situation by making a joke of it, and she gave a weak smile in return, doing what she could to help him pass off the awkward circumstance. ‘I am sure it is.’
‘I will see you on Wednesday as arranged?’ he asked.
She took a deep breath, then nodded. ‘You will.’
‘Good. Then I will bid you goodbye - until Wednesday.’
‘Until Wednesday,’ she said.
He strode off towards the Manor.
As she watched him go, a part of Cicely felt she never wanted to see Alex Evington again. He was too unsettling, and the effect he had on her was too disturbing. But another part of her longed to be with him, to feel his strong fingers tracing the line of her jaw and caressing the curve of her cheek, and to see his eyes, hot with desire, piercing her own.
Oh! It had been heavenly.
But it must not be allowed to happen again. She knew very little about Alex Evington, but everything she knew told her that she must not fall victim to his undoubted charm.
She found that she believed him when he said there would be no more horse-play. But even so, she knew she would have to treat him with more than the usual distance if she were to prevent her unruly feelings from rising to the surface.
She gratefully retreated to the safety of the Lodge, where she hoped to forget all about Alex Evington. But even as she thought it, she knew the hope was vain.
* * * *
Alex cursed himself as he strode back to the Manor, his clothes dripping wet. What on earth had he been thinking of, chasing Miss Haringay like that? He had had a warning of the effect she had on him when he had shaken her hand in Mr Peterson’s office, and he should have been on his guard. Instead of which he had behaved like a green boy, careering round on a bicycle and plunging into the horse trough, and then giving in to an urge to pay her back for laughing at him by making her as wet as he was. If he had been sensible he would have done nothing of the kind. He would have excused himself and returned to the Manor to change his clothes, and no harm would have been done. But had he done it? No. He had chased her into the stables, and when she had tripped on her skirt he had not been able to hold her upright but had instead tumbled on top of her, unleashing the chemistry that existed between them.
He felt again the raw sensations that had gripped him when he had fallen on top of her. Her soft flesh yielding beneath him had sent an electrical charge through him that had been stronger and more powerful than anything he had ever felt before, and despite all his experience he had been taken aback by its sheer force.
Even now, he could hardly believe its intensity. He had experienced physical attraction before, but never on that scale. It had been so overwhelming that he had almost given into it and kissed her fully where she had fallen in the warm, fragrant hay.
And more than kissed her . . .
As he thought again of her soft hair, deep-set eyes and beautiful lips he felt his body stir. She had looked so right beneath him that he had felt that was where she was meant to be, and he had not been able to prevent himself taking her face in his hands and running his fingers over her smooth and delicate skin. He remembered the soft silkiness of it beneath his fingers, and remembered how it had made him long to run his hands over her entire body.
He made an effort to turn his thoughts into different channels. He loosened his tie as he strode towards the house, glad of the cold water that had drenched him, as it went some way towards coo
ling the passionate flames that still gripped him, even now Cicely had gone.
Still, there was one bright side to the situation, he thought. At least he had managed to stop himself before things had gone too far.
He had Roddy to thank for that. The sound of his brother’s voice had recalled him to reality just in time, for it would have been madness to have given in to the urges that had overtaken him and made him their plaything in the barn. To even think of kissing Cicely Haringay on the lips had been pure insanity. Cicely Haringay, of all people, who looked down on him and regarded him with contempt! If he had had to experience an attraction so strongly, why could it not have been for a nice young woman who was fun to be with, instead of one of the landed gentry.
But Cicely is fun to be with.
The unwelcome thought pushed itself into his mind.
How else would he have been able to forget himself and behave like a boy, if she had not been fun? He did not want to face the fact, but he had not enjoyed himself so much in years. He had had the responsibilities of a man put on his shoulders at an early age. With a dead father and a sickly mother he had become the man of the household at the age of twelve and had done what he could to provide for the family. He had taken any job that had offered, and had worked long hours so that Roddy could get the necessary schooling to take up a white-collar job. He had found Katie a place in service, and then, having done what he could for his brother and sister, he had set about making his fortune. And when he had made it he had rescued Katie from service and Roddy from the life of a pettifogging clerk. It had been work, work, work. Not that he resented any of it. He had done well and he had helped his family, and he was proud of that fact. But there had not been much time for anything else.
And then, out of the blue, he had found himself having fun with Miss Cicely Haringay. She might have been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but she was lively and intelligent and, contrary to what he had at first supposed, she had a sense of humour. No matter how difficult it was, he had to acknowledge that her company had given him very real enjoyment. Her knowledge had proved invaluable, and her daring in riding the bone-shaking machines had proved impressive. The love she had obviously borne her father had made him admire her, for loyalty was important to him, and it was clear Miss Haringay knew the meaning of it, and her laughter when he had fallen in the horse-trough had proved she had a sense of the ridiculous that was every well bit as developed as his own.
But she was still a Haringay. Still from a long line of landowners who thought that ordinary people were beneath them. Still the kind of person who would have dismissed Katie for something she didn’t do.
The thought sobered him.
Yes, Cicely came from a different world. and he would do well to remember it.
He turned the corner of the stable yard and almost bumped into Roddy coming in search of him.
‘There you are!’ said Roddy. Before stopping and looking at him in amazement. His face broke into a grin. ‘What happened to you?’
‘Don’t ask,’ said Alex in exasperation.
Roddy laughed. ‘Fell in a duck pond?’ he enquired humorously.
Alex laughed, too. ‘If you must know, I fell in the horse trough.’
‘The horse trough! What on earth were you doing falling in the horse trough?’
‘I was riding a bone-shaker and the brakes didn’t work. It pitched me off, head first.’
‘That explains it. Or at least, it explains why you’re so wet. But why are you covered in dried grass?’
Alex brushed the hay off his jacket. ‘It’s a long story,’ he said. Adding to himself, And one I am not going to tell you.
‘It’s a good thing Miss Haringay didn’t see you, otherwise she would have been able to get her own back on you.’
‘Miss Haringay did see me,’ said Alex, ‘and I assure you she paid me back in full.’
Roddy laughed even louder. ‘Good for her!’
‘And now I have to get out of these wet things - which are probably ruined,’ said Alex, looking ruefully at his suit. ‘What was it you wanted me for?’ he asked as the two of them returned to the Manor.
Roddy’s eyes took on a bright gleam. ‘I wanted to tell you the news. Our plan has worked - or, at least, the first part of it. The Honourable Martin Goss has replied to your invitation to the house-warming ball.’
Alex’s eyes became alert. He stopped and faced Roddy. ‘And?’ he demanded.
‘He thanks you for your kind invitation, and expresses himself delighted to be able to attend.’
‘Hah!’ Alex’s eyes lit up. ‘We’ve tempted him, Roddy. And once tempted I have no doubt we’ll catch him.’ His face became more thoughtful. ‘Now all we have to do is make sure we have a sufficiently attractive bait.’
Chapter Six
Shall I or shan’t I? thought Cicely, as she prepared to go to the Manor on Wednesday morning. Shall I or shan’t I wear my gloves?
Long gloves formed a part of the fashionable outfit customarily worn by young ladies, but for her job at the Manor they were hardly practical, which was why she had not worn them on the previous Monday. She could not write easily whilst wearing them, nor could she operate the typewriter. On the other hand, they would protect her from any more electrical sensations if she should accidentally come into contact with Mr Evington.
She put her gloves back on her dressing table at last, deciding that she could not wear them, but she would take care she did not touch Mr Evington again.
Fortunately, he seemed to have the same idea, for when she joined him at the Manor half an hour later he sat determinedly on the opposite side of his desk and adopted a coolly formal manner, treating her very much as a secretary and not as a young woman he had nearly kissed on the sweetly-scented hay.
Slowly they settled into a polite way of dealing with each other, and the immense tension which had filled the room when Cicely had entered it began to return to more manageable levels.
‘I want to complete the arrangements for the housewarming ball,’ said Mr Evington, when they had dealt with the most pressing letters. ‘As you know, I’m holding it towards the end of July. My guests from London will be coming down on the Saturday beforehand. They will spend the week at the Manor, attending the ball on the Friday before leaving again on the following - Saturday - afternoon.’
‘Good,’ she said briskly, trying her best to behave like a perfect secretary.
‘I am going to need some more help around the house when my guests arrive. I’ve brought enough servants from London with me to cope with the day-to-day running of the Manor, but they won’t be able to manage a house full of guests. Do you know of anyone in the village who might be prepared to come in for a few days and help?’
‘I’m sure there are a lot of people,’ said Cicely. ‘Most of the young men and women from the village would be glad to help out, and then for the ball itself I think you will find most of the local landowners will be happy to lend their own staff. We usually help each other out for big events. Would you like me to deal with it for you?’
‘Yes. If you would.’
‘I should have it arranged by the end of the week,’ she said.
‘Now. As to the matter of the cricket match . . . ’
One by one they dealt with the matters that needed seeing to, and by the end of the day Cicely went back to the Lodge with the feeling of a day well spent, for she could not hide from herself the fact that she was enjoying helping out at the Manor.
Although Cicely still missed living there, she had worked hard to make the Lodge comfortable and welcoming and it was becoming more homely every day. She had cleaned it thoroughly before she had moved in, and whilst she had not been able to afford to redecorate, she had managed to cover up the worst patches of flaking paint with pictures and mirrors, and to disguise the worn sections of flooring with faded, yet good quality rugs.
She removed her hat as she entered the Lodge, then went through to the sitting-room. She had just thrown ope
n the French windows when Lord Chuffington was announced. Feeling relieved that he had not called half an hour earlier, as she would then have had to invent an excuse as to where she had been, she welcomed him with pleasure.
‘What ho! Cicely,’ he said, as he ambled into the room in his usual diffident fashion, his hands buried in the pockets of his trousers and his light jacket bunched up behind him.
‘Hello, Chuff Chuff.’
Cicely greeted him warmly and invited him to sit down.
He took a seat on one of the faded sofas. ‘Thought I’d just pop over and see if you were ready for Evington’s ball.’
‘Not nearly!’ exclaimed Cicely, thinking of all the staffing arrangements she had to make. ‘There is so much to be done! I have to -’ She broke off as she noticed the surprised look on Lord Chuffington’s face, and realized that she had almost given away her involvement in the organisation of the ball, and therefore her position as Mr Evington’s secretary. She realized she would have to be more careful in future, in particular she must remember to sound casual when she asked the local landowners to lend their servants, so they did not guess that she was acting as Mr Evington’s secretary. ‘I have to sort out all my clothes,’ she corrected herself.
‘Ah! Yes, What!’ said Lord Chuffington amiably. He raised and lowered his eyebrows a couple of times and gave her a lackadaisical smile.
Cicely smiled back.
He raised his eyebrows again and Cicely realized that if she wanted the conversation to proceed she would have to provide something to talk about. ‘Would you like to see what I’ve been doing with the garden?’ she asked.
‘Oh, yes. Rather,’ Chuff Chuff beamed.
She led Chuff Chuff out through the French doors and into the pretty garden.
‘I’m trying to plant it in line with Gertrude Jekyll’s ideas,’ she said. ‘The garden’s rather small to let me put them into practice fully, but I want to use her idea of grouping shrubs and flowers so that I have colour in the garden all year round.’
Marriage at the Manor Page 7
