Tempted by Trouble

by Liz Fielding

  Not a dream, then.

  He was lying in Elle’s bed, the scent was in her pillow, her sheets. He had been honest with her and she had responded. No games, no nonsense. And, clearly, if his body had berated his lack of ambition, his brain had known his limits.

  Holding her, kissing her, had been beyond special, but the moment his head had hit the pillow he’d been asleep. And maybe his heart had known something else. Elle was right. They barely knew one another; they needed time to build something that would last.

  It was a new concept for him, but one which, as he’d driven through the dawn, had drawn him to Elle rather than the estate, lending wings to his wheels.

  He checked the time. Just gone three. Not ten hours, but long enough. Long enough without Elle beside him. He rolled off the bed and saw that she’d left him a message:

  ‘Rocky Road, Sasparilla and Ginger Beer.’

  He laughed. ‘We’ll get you, Rumpelstiltskin,’ he said, then looked out across the garden. He was right above the lilac tree, he discovered, and tied to it there was a dog, a scruffy terrier with a battered ear, drinking from a bowl.

  Geli, tearful, was looking at someone out of sight. ‘There was no room at the rescue centre. I’ll find her a home. I will!’

  ‘Better do it before Elle gets home.’ That was Sorrel. The practical one. ‘She can’t take on any more right now, Geli.’

  He leaned out of the window. Since his car was parked in the drive, his presence could hardly be a secret.

  ‘Is she house-trained?’ Geli looked up, startled, her eyes wide to see him emerging from her sister’s bedroom window. Okaaay, so he’d got that one wrong. ‘The dog.’

  ‘Absolutely!’ Well, she would say that. ‘It’s just that her owner died and there was no one to take her in.’

  ‘So no one would worry if I took her home with me?’ he said.

  ‘Would you?’

  ‘I might. For a cup of tea.’

  ‘Well… I’m supposed to do a home check first, to make sure you’ve got enough room for her. And proper fences,’ she said.

  ‘Will the Haughton Manor estate do?’

  She blinked. ‘All of it?’

  ‘She’d have a couple of acres to herself, give or take the odd fox passing through.’

  She shrugged. ‘I suppose that would be okay, but who’ll look after her during the day? When you’re at work. I’m assuming you don’t have a wife or a live-in partner?’ she added pointedly.

  ‘You assume right. And I’ll take her with me to the office.’

  ‘They’d let you do that?’

  ‘I’m the boss.’

  ‘Oh.’

  He thought she’d be pleased, but instead she looked disappointed, as if she was hoping that there really was no one to take the dog. So that she could keep her.

  ‘Of course I will need someone to take care of her in the evenings when I help Elle with Rosie. Or if I have to go away for a day or two.’

  ‘It would have to be someone responsible,’ Geli said.

  ‘Absolutely, and I’m prepared to pay the top rate for a reliable dog-sitter. If you can recommend anyone, Angelica?’

  ‘Well, I suppose you could bring her here,’ she said casually. ‘I could look after her. Elle couldn’t object to that, since she wouldn’t be costing us anything.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ he said. ‘So? Will I do?’

  He heard himself making a commitment. Open-ended. He should be panicking but he wasn’t.

  ‘I’ll give you a trial period of a month. Just to make sure you take to one another.’ She sighed. ‘And if you’re going to sleep here on a regular basis, you’d better call me Geli.’

  Sorrel stepped into view, looked up. She didn’t say anything. Just smiled and raised both thumbs in approval behind her sister’s back.

  ‘Where is Elle?’ he asked when he joined them in the garden, folded himself up to make the acquaintance of his new best friend. She practically threw herself at him.

  ‘She left a note to say she’d gone to fetch Gran.’ Geli lifted her shoulders in an awkward little shrug. ‘She wanders off sometimes, gets on a bus, then phones Elle in a panic when she doesn’t know where she is.’

  ‘I’ll go and fetch them,’ he said, taking out his phone, digging in his pocket for his car keys. And coming up empty-handed. Which explained why Geli hadn’t seen his car. Elle had taken his vintage Jaguar coupé on a granny hunt…

  In his ear, Elle’s phone went to voicemail, which probably meant that she was still behind the wheel. Hopefully on her way home.

  ‘Lovage…’ he went inside ‘…thanks for the respite care. I hope Lally’s okay. Give me a call if I can do anything. You’ll find my fuel charge card in the glove compartment if you need it,’ he added, giving her the pin number. Something else he’d never done. ‘I’m going home now to change into something that doesn’t sparkle but I’ll be back later for a slice of that cake.’ Then he called for a taxi.

  ‘Can I get you some toast or something?’ Geli asked when he rejoined them in the garden, clearly eager to show her gratitude.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, ‘but right now…’ He looked at the dog. ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Mabel.’

  ‘Mabel. Right… Well, Mabel and I have to go shopping for dog stuff. Food. Bowls. A basket.’ The dog, he discovered, was listening. Following his every move with desperate, anxious eyes.

  He took a breath, said, ‘Tell your sister that I’ll pick up some pizza.’ If she’d been out all day hunting her grandmother, the last thing she needed to do was cook.

  ‘No worries. I’m making a spag bol.’ Sorrel smiled at him. ‘You could pick up some Parmesan cheese, if you like.’

  His car was pulled up neatly in the drive when he returned bearing a block of Parmesan soon after six. He resisted the twitchy need to check its immaculate bodywork and instead walked through the rear, Mabel hard on his heels.

  There was no one in the kitchen. ‘Hello?’

  He put the cheese on the table, peered into the morning room. Lally, dozing in front of the television, opened her eyes.

  ‘Where’s Elle?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh…er…I think she went upstairs…’

  Elle lay back amongst the crumpled sheets, exhausted from driving on pins in Sean’s beautiful car. From tension. She was always afraid of what she’d find when her grandmother wandered but she’d been sitting in a pub being chatted up by some old guy who’d bought her a drink.

  This was perfect. The pillow smelled of Sean and she nestled her cheek where his had been, breathing in the spicy scent of his shampoo, or his aftershave, listening to her messages. Sorrel asking if she was okay. Her phone company trying to sell her a more up to date package. Sean… Oh, help! Oh, bless…

  She hit call back, waited impatiently. Somewhere in the house a phone began to ring and she sighed, recognising the ring of Rosie’s BlackBerry.

  Geli was out. Sorrel had gone to the village shop to fetch cream to fill the cake.

  No… It had stopped now. Sorrel must be back.

  Sean answered his phone. ‘Elle?’

  ‘Sean…’

  ‘You sound surprised. You did call me?’

  ‘Sorry, I just…’ She stopped. ‘Yes. I called you. I’ve just got home and picked up your message. I’m sorry about taking your car.’

  ‘It’s okay. I’m glad it was there for you. All well?’

  ‘Yes. Gran decided to go off and look for Basil. She caught the bus to Melchester, but got off when she recognised a pub they all used to go to. It was all changed inside and when he wasn’t there she panicked.’

  ‘Have you asked her what RSG means?’

  ‘On the way home. No joy.’

  ‘Just a thought. What are you doing?’ he asked. ‘Right now?’

  ‘Right now.’

  ‘I’m lying with my head in the dent you made in my pillow.’

  ‘I wish I was still there,’ he murmured.

  ‘Me too.’ Wi
shed he was lying beside her instead of just being a disembodied voice in her ear. ‘I wish you were here, lying beside me, holding me. Kissing me.’

  ‘You’ll have to move over,’ he said.

  ‘Get here and I will,’ she said, then, as there was a tap on her door, she realised that the sound in her ear was the dialling tone.

  ‘Come in…’

  The door swung open.

  ‘Sean…’

  ‘Your wish is my command.’

  She didn’t speak, just moved over and he came and sat beside her, kicked off one of his shoes.

  ‘Sean! Mabel has just eaten half a pound of Parmesan cheese!’ Sorrel called up the stairs.

  ‘Mabel?’ Elle queried.

  ‘A dog.’ He pushed his foot back into the shoe, took her hand, pulled her to her feet, held her for a moment. Kissed her. ‘It’s a long story. Maybe we should go for a walk while I tell you. I suspect, right now, she’s a walking time bomb.’

  ‘Where on earth did she come from?’ Elle asked as they headed across the Common towards the riverbank. ‘If I’d imagined you with a dog it would have been some glossy pedigree, not that sorry excuse for a mutt.’

  ‘Her owner died. She had nowhere to go.’

  ‘So you took her in?’ The commitment-phobic male who didn’t have as much as a goldfish in his spare and beautifully furnished home? Why wasn’t she buying that? ‘Between waking up this afternoon and now?’

  ‘It was an emergency.’

  ‘So would that be permanently? Or until you can find a good home for her?’ she asked.

  ‘A dog isn’t just for Christmas, Elle.’

  ‘A pity more people didn’t realise that. I suppose you could change her name,’ she said.

  ‘Wouldn’t that confuse her?’

  ‘Actually, I don’t think dogs care what you call them. As long as you call them.’

  ‘And what about you? Are you Elle this evening? Or Lovage?’ he said.

  ‘Is there a difference?’ she asked carelessly. As if she didn’t know.

  ‘There is a touch of split personality about you. This morning you were most definitely Lovage. Warm, loving, with passion simmering just beneath the surface. You were Lovage when I arrived just now, but you seem to have morphed into the practical, down-to-earth Elle.’

  ‘Is that a problem?’

  ‘No. I like you both,’ he said.

  They walked beside the river, with Mabel eagerly sniffing every tree. Called at the pub for a drink. Had something to eat sitting outside. Were home by nine.

  Sean shut Mabel in the Land Rover, then walked Elle as far as the side gate. ‘What have we got this week with Rosie?’ he asked.

  ‘We?’

  ‘I feel bad about abandoning you to Rosie’s moods yesterday.’

  ‘I coped. I will cope. It’s my business, Sean, and I’m taking it seriously.’

  ‘Does that mean you’ll be giving in your notice at the Blue Boar?’ he asked casually.

  ‘Not yet. Not until I know Rosie is capable of supporting us. I need to know that I have some money coming in.’

  ‘Scared?’

  ‘Witless. So thank you. I would be grateful for your help at the company reception on Wednesday,’ she said.

  ‘That would be a black lace dress affair?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Then nothing will keep me away. Anything else?’

  Oh, yes. What she wanted, had wanted all evening with a scratchy kind of longing, was for him to kiss her witless. Be the man she’d left in her bed that morning. But he was right. She was being practical, careful Elle and he was taking his cue from her. Being a friend.

  ‘Don’t worry about Wednesday. You’re a busy man and Sorrel is going to help me,’ she assured him.

  He put a hand against the wall behind her, leaning in, backing her up so that she could feel the warm brick catching at her hair, pulling it free from the restraining plait. ‘That would be the Sorrel who’s been working all week to get Scoop! up and running. The same Sorrel who isn’t supposed to be deflected by anything until she’s got a first class degree?’

  She could feel his breath against her temple. Her own breath seemed stuck somewhere between in and out and going nowhere.

  A hot, sexy friend who was turning her insides to mush and tossing sense out of the window.

  ‘Good point,’ she gasped. ‘But if you take her place, who’ll look after Mabel?’

  Elle being practical. Showing him how commitment worked.

  ‘Geli said she’d dog-sit any time.’

  ‘Geli? When?’ Then, catching on, ‘Is this one of her waifs and strays?’

  ‘Not now. I’m on a month’s trial, but I’m not giving her back.’

  ‘Wednesday, then. Six o’clock.’

  ‘I’ll be here.’

  She swallowed. ‘Great. Can Mabel wait while you have a cup of…tea?’

  Sean smiled at the way she’d carefully avoided the ‘coffee’ euphemism.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Truly sorry. He’d had time to think this afternoon. About Elle. About himself. About the two of them. He didn’t want this to be some casual relationship that they fell into and then out of as quickly. He wanted to get to know her. Wanted her to get to know him. It was too important to rush, but right now this slow courting was scrambling his brain.

  He loved the fact that they had talked this evening, shared the small stuff, laughed a lot. But it was a good thing that it was Elle in residence tonight because otherwise he wouldn’t have been responsible for his actions.

  ‘I’m afraid Mabel is not quite as house-trained as I was led to believe. She’ll chew the seat to shreds if I leave her in the car. You might get Sorrel to run the Trades Descriptions Act by Geli.’

  ‘What can I say?’

  ‘Kiss me?’ he suggested.

  She swallowed. ‘Kiss me,’ she whispered.

  And he cradled Elle’s head in his hands and kissed her. A long, lingering kiss that left him wanting more. Hopefully left her wanting more too. And then he walked away while he still could.

  Mabel chewed Sean’s boots, chased the ducks, stole his breakfast while he had his back turned and rolled in anything disgusting that she could find.

  But then she lay on his feet beneath his desk in the office, sneaked onto the sofa at night and pressed against him to have her ears rubbed, woke him with a wet nose under his chin. And she was quick. She’d learned that while he’d tolerate the loss of his breakfast and was prepared to hose her down no matter how bad she smelled, the ducks were off limits.

  And he learned, too. Learned that, like the land, people responded more readily to warmth than prickly reserve. Olivia was relaxed and was coming up with ideas for the stable block that had him eating his words. And she and Hattie were ganging up to promote the Orangery as a wedding venue. He should have hated it, but found himself enjoying the tussle. And Elle had been part of that, punting for wedding business for Rosie when they’d all had supper together at the barn with Henry and the children, down for the long weekend, after the Steam Fair.

  And he’d retrieved the box that contained his mother’s possessions, found a photograph of his mother.

  ‘Your father took this,’ Elle said, when he showed it to her.

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Look at her eyes. They’re shining. Anyone can see that she’s looking at the man she loves. She was lovely.’

  ‘Yes, she was. I hadn’t realised.’

  ‘Put it in a frame. Remember her, Sean.’

  Elle loved having Sean at her side at evening functions. Excluding the hen night. Those girls might be wearing angel wings but when they were out for fun any man was game and she was beginning to think of him as hers.

  It was dangerous, risking-the-heart territory, but that was what a heart was for. To give. And she’d already given hers. It was his. All he had to do was take it.

  Sean… Well, he seemed to feel that he needed to prove something to he
r. Or maybe to himself. That he wasn’t like her father. Or his.

  That he didn’t just want one thing. That he was fine with her family. Maybe getting that way with his own. Healing…

  No problem. Some things were worth waiting for. Meanwhile, she had him for walks, for supper occasionally, and for kisses that made it increasingly hard to say goodnight.

  And she still had the ‘call me’ option. His birthday, as she’d discovered from Olivia, wasn’t that far off.

  Sean felt his heart expand under Elle’s warmth. She filled his evenings with fun, his heart with love. Shared quiet days with him with only Mabel at their heels while they explored the river, lay in the meadow, hidden from the world as the wild flowers reached full height. While he tested a strength, a certainty growing in him that he was more than he believed. While she learned to trust that he would be there for her. Always.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The most blissful words in any language. Vanilla ice cream with hot fudge sauce.

  —Rosie’s Diary

  ‘I’M REALLY sorry, Freddy, but I can’t work tomorrow. In fact, I need to talk to you about my hours.’

  She’d switched shifts with the girl who owed her from the previous week but Freddy had found out and had called her in early, apparently furious. As if it made any difference to him as long as he had staff cover.

  ‘Saturday is a big day and you are my top waitress but clearly you have more interesting things to do these days,’ he said, tossing the Country Chronicle on his desk, open at the article featuring the television shoot in Upper Haughton. ‘You appear to be running your own business around mine.’

  She hadn’t seen the new edition of the magazine but, as there was a large photograph of her standing in front of Rosie, describing her as ‘local events entrepreneur, Elle Amery’ there was no point in denying it.

  ‘This was on the sixth?’ he said. ‘The same day as the “family crisis” that kept you from work?’

  ‘It was a family crisis. My great-uncle has disappeared and I had to stand in for him. He’d signed a contract with the film company and they were going to sue if someone didn’t turn up.’