He laughed. ‘I’ll be fine. No one’s going to pick a fight with a strapping Irish fella like me.’
Hope sniffed. ‘I bet that’s what Khalid thought.’ She replayed the words in her head and made a mental adjustment. ‘Probably not the Irish bit. But the rest of it.’
Ciaran was quiet for a moment. ‘Did any of Isobel’s story seem a bit strange to you?’
‘Apart from all of it, you mean?’
‘Well, yes,’ he agreed. ‘I can’t shake the feeling it doesn’t quite hang together. There’s something about it that doesn’t make sense.’
Frowning, Hope recalled the way Isobel had described the ring as cursed. ‘I know what you mean. But maybe she doesn’t remember it all. It happened a long time ago, and she could only have heard the details second-hand.’
‘Or third-hand, if they didn’t talk about it much,’ Ciaran observed. ‘I don’t know, it was just a feeling. I’m probably over-thinking it.’
They had reached Foss Bridge and Hope stopped to watch the river flow beneath the modest stone parapets. Old-fashioned lamp posts stool like sentinels on the middle of the bridge and someone had woven lights in a tree that stood along one of the riverbanks. The reflection danced on the lapping water, reminding Hope a little of London. ‘It’s like a miniature South Bank,’ Hope said, smiling. ‘So pretty.’
‘Beautiful,’ Ciaran murmured, and it took Hope a heartbeat to realize he wasn’t looking at the lights. She half turned and discovered he was much closer than she’d thought. ‘Hope,’ he murmured. ‘How would you feel if I kissed you right now?’
Her heart thudded in her chest as she gazed up at him and tried to nudge her startled brain into answering. But her lack of reply didn’t seem to matter; Ciaran evidently decided her eyes told him everything he needed to know. Slowly, he placed one finger under her chin and tilted it up. A moment later, his lips were on hers, the lightest of feathery touches that hardly felt like a kiss at all and yet somehow managed to set all Hope’s senses alight. His face hovered above hers, waiting for a sign that he should go on, and suddenly Hope realized there was nothing she wanted more. Reaching up, she cupped his face with her hands and drew him towards her.
At first, it wasn’t a passionate kiss. Neither of them seemed to be in a hurry to reach a particular destination. He tasted of Limoncello, the last drink they’d had at the restaurant, and Hope was dimly aware that they were standing on the bridge, leaning against the parapet and kissing like a pair of teenagers, but she didn’t care. And as the kiss grew in intensity, she lost all sense of where they were. All she could think about was how wonderful it felt to be in Ciaran’s arms, her heart thudding and her skin tingling; how she suddenly felt more alive than she had in years, and how she never wanted this kiss to end.
When they finally broke apart, she had to hold onto him for balance. ‘Wow,’ he said, gazing at her with a gentle grin. ‘I’m better than I thought.’
She smiled and nestled against his chest, steadying herself both inside and out. ‘I’ve thought of a solution to the problem of you getting home safely.’
‘Oh?’ he said, against her hair. ‘And what’s that?’
Taking a deep lungful of air, she exhaled all the way, silently testing the words before she let them escape. ‘You could not go home at all.’
She felt the breath catch in Ciaran’s chest. He pulled back a little to look quizzically into her eyes. ‘You’re sure?’
The question reverberated fuzzily in Hope’s head: was she sure? Spending the night with someone was a big step, one she hadn’t been tempted to take since Rob’s death. But he’d been adamant that she learn to love again, in time, and if losing him had taught her anything it was that life should be lived in the moment, without regrets. And then her booze-fuddled synapses arced to Elenor Lovelace, whose mysterious letter had brought Hope and Ciaran together. She had a feeling his hunch was right – that there was more of the story for them to uncover – but that could wait for another day. Right here and now, the only thing Hope was interested in was the way Ciaran made her feel.
Aware that he was awaiting her answer, Hope did her best to focus. When it came down to it, all that mattered was whether she would regret letting him walk away from her again. And she knew beyond all doubt that she would.
Lifting her head, Hope smiled at Ciaran. ‘I’ve never been surer of anything.’
And she stood on tiptoe to kiss him again.
End of Part One
More from the Author
The Little Shop of Hidden Treasures Part Four
Little Shop of Hidden Treasures Part Three
The Little Shop of Hidden Treasures Part Two
Coming Home to Brightwater Bay
Sunset over Brightwater Bay
Dangerous Tides at Brightwater Bay
Also by Holly Hepburn
Coming Home to Brightwater Bay
Broken Hearts at Brightwater Bay
Sea Breezes at Brightwater Bay
Dangerous Tides at Brightwater Bay
Sunset Over Brightwater Bay
A Year at the Star and Sixpence
Snowdrops at the Star and Sixpence
Summer at the Star and Sixpence
Autumn at the Star and Sixpence
Christmas at the Star and Sixpence
The Picture House by the Sea
Brief Encounter at the Picture House by the Sea
Singing in the Rain at the Picture House by the Sea
Dirty Dancing at the Picture House by the Sea
Some Like it Hot at the Picture House by the Sea
A Year at Castle Court
Snowy Nights at Castle Court
Frosty Mornings at Castle Court
Stormy Weather at Castle Court
Starry Skies at Castle Court
Last Orders at the Star and Sixpence
New Beginnings at the Star and Sixpence
Christmas Kisses at the Star and Sixpence
Cosy Nights at the Star and Sixpence
Last Words at the Star and Sixpence
Valentine’s Day at the Star and Sixpence (short story)
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First published in Great Britain by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2021
Copyright © Tamsyn Murray, 2021
The right of Tamsyn Murray to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
eBook ISBN: 978-1-3985-0603-9
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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The Little Shop of Hidden Treasures Part One: Starting Over Page 9
