by Aria Ford
I laughed at it, the thought breaking the thread of my concentration, and the thrust of the story.
“What?” Jack asked, squinting up at her where he lay on his back in the late-afternoon rays, playing with grass stalks.
“Nothing,” I said, suddenly flustered. “I just had a funny thought…”
“She was having a funny thought about the troll,” a deep, resonant British voice explained, matter of fact, somewhere in the trees behind. “And about what he might drive, if he happened to have a car.”
I whipped round. I know that voice. I had heard it every night in my dreams since I met him.
Alex was there, dressed in a tweed jacket and Levi’s, looking more debonair than I had ever seen him. The jeans were tight and fitted perfectly over his muscled form, the tweed jacket bringing out his dark eyes. I swallowed and looked up at his face, noticing with some surprise that he was smiling.
“Hello,” he said. “Sorry for sneaking up like that. I was just passing on my way to the garage, and I wanted to ask you, all of you”—he added, looking from me to his small son and daughter who looked up at him with loving eyes—“if you would like to join me in the car for a ride.”
I wet my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. “A ride?”
“I have recently had some repairs made to a vehicle of mine. A certain MG…”
He had not finished the sentence before Jack jumped, face suffused with awe. “Not the MG convertible?”
“Yes, son. That’s correct.” Alexander was laughing as he ruffled the child’s hair. Cammi was looking from her father to her older brother with a delighted half-smile on her face. Not wanting to be excluded from the general love, she ran forward and hugged his knees.
“Daddy! Can I sit on your knee while we’re driving?” she asked.
I laughed, then felt a tenderness fill me as Alexander slowly bent his knee and looked into the little girl’s eyes.
“Of course,” he said softly. “But only on the country roads. On the big road, it’s safer if you sit behind me. You can help me, too…keeping a lookout for trolls. Or is that traffic policemen? I forget the differences.”
I, and the children, all laughed. I stood as the children cannoned off, evidently knowing the route to the garage very well. I looked up at Alexander, suddenly alone with him for the first time since that night. Having him so close was intense. I cleared my throat and looked away, suddenly feeling a torrent of emotions flood through me. One of them was profound nervousness.
“Well,” he said, sighing. “That seems to have cheered that lot up.”
I gave a soft chuckle. “Yes.”
I stood there a little awkwardly. The breeze ruffled the leaves overhead. Neither he nor I spoke. Watching the children running around in the garden, their whoops of joy breaking the evening quiet, I turned away.
“Emma,” he said after a moment.
I swallowed. It was the first time he had used my name, not just “Miss Blunt”. His lips made it a touch, almost as if those long fingers reached out and took my hand in his.
“Yes?” I asked. My voice came out hoarse and I cleared my throat. I looked up at him and saw a tenderness in his eyes that made my heart thud.
“Thank you.”
I stared. “Thank me? Whatever for?”
“For making me see what a tyrant I was being. I can’t believe it now. For giving me a chance to rebuild things with my kids.” He sighed.
I chuckled and felt my heart reach out to him. “They sure do love you. Kids are very forgiving you know.”
“I noticed.” Alexander chuckled, the sound tinged with self-mockery. I bit my lip, hearing it.
“Whatever you did, you had your reasons,” I said quietly. We were walking behind them now, slowly, while they played tag up ahead on the lawn, racing each other along. “If the kids can forgive you, if you fix it now, that’s all that matters.”
Alexander looked into my eyes. “Truly?”
“Yes.”
He was an arm’s length from me. The breeze ruffled my hair and there was no other sound except its soft whispering rustles in the leaves. The only thing in the clearing was him. He reached out and laid a hand on my shoulder. I stood very still. My heart thumped, and my whole body shivered. The touch of his fingers was soft, hesitant. A gentle foray into what might be forbidden territory. I half-lifted her hand to rest it on his, then let my arm drop.
“What?”
I shrugged. He removed his hand and I missed it instantly.
“Nothing,” I said, shakily. The loss of touch was like a physical blow. It had felt so right, to stand with his hand on my shoulder, the sunset making patterns of their shadows. “Where are the kids?”
He laughed. “Quite.”
Together we watched as the two children ran down the long green lawns into the sunset. It felt strange. Like I knew him for years. Like it was so natural to walk here, slower, while the children played about on the path ahead, their laughs soft and high in the evening air.
“Whoa!” Alexander said, raising his hands in mock-surrender as two small bodies hurtled down the drive at him. He was laughing. On the edge of the scene, I was surprised to feel tears prick at her eyes as I watched him reach down and lift Cammi, ruffling Jack’s hair.
“Here we go!” he said, pressing the knob to open the door. I walked forward a pace while the children sucked in their breaths with excitement. I didn’t want to intrude on this special moment between them, and yet it seemed I had been invited to, that I was welcome here in this space with the three of them. I stared at the thing he had to show us. The children stared too.
It was an MG. A beautiful, shiny, vintage thing of beauty and fineness that spoke of style. I sucked in my own breath, feeling a thrill of delight.
“Okay!” Alex said, gesturing to the wide garage-doors. “I’ll bring it out, then we all pile in. Okay?”
“Woohoo!”
“Yay!”
I smiled as the children hopped about, hugging themselves with excitement. Alex grinned, a sudden flash of happiness. My heart soared with the sweetness of it. I smiled back and his gaze held mine. The children went quiet, and Alex cleared his throat. He drew his eyes away from mine and to the children, shaking his head a little.
“Okay, gang,” he said happily. “Here goes…”
He slid nimbly into the seat and drove the car out, greeted by a wave of requests.
“I want to sit in the back, behind Daddy. That’s my place. Remember?” Cammi protested.
“Who’s going in the front seat?” Jack asked.
Alex alighted and walked round to the door. He opened it.
“Emma?”
I swallowed hard. He was holding the door open for me.
“Are you sure?”
He laughed. “Sure I am.”
He smiled and I smiled back, feeling my stomach flip. I slid into the seat, wincing as I did it less elegantly than she would have liked. He grinned at me, eyes sparkling, as if he shared my thoughts and thought they were funny. Then he opened the rear door.
“Everybody in!”
The kids clambered in. Alex grinned at me where he stood outside, waiting for them to settle themselves down before he shut the door. He looked happier than ever. He slid into the seat beside me. I held my breath. Sitting next to him made me feel strangely shy. Why is it that one’s skin suddenly gets so sensitive, as if it would sense out every breath of someone, shiver at their slightest glance?
I stopped thinking about it and looked out of the window. Then he flicked the switch for the front gate and backed up slowly. The road behind, a wide, almost-deserted road through leafy countryside, appeared slowly from behind the wall as we reversed through the gate.
“Whee!”
Jack was laughing as the wind caught his hair. Cammi was squealing with excitement. Alex was grinning. My hair was already catching the wind. Left loose about my shoulders, it billowed around by my face, whipping into my eyes. I gave a little chuckle and smiled at Alex. He grinned back.
He put his foot on the gas and lurched forward, until we were bowling along at ninety. The kids were screeching and giggling, and I found it hard to breathe.
“Fun, isn’t it?” he asked, grinning across at me. It was such a sweet, boyish grin that it took years off his face. I had no idea how old he was, but just then he was a teenager, showing off.
“Windy!” I replied, and it was: my hair was everywhere…in my eyes, my mouth, whipping back from my head and promising to be a mass of tangles later in the evening.
He laughed. “You can say that again!”
I chuckled. “Windy!” I said again.
Behind me, the children were laughing and shrieking. I felt my own heart beating. I looked across at the man beside me, noting his strong hands on the steering-wheel. They were thickly-muscled and veined, as if he spent some of his free time climbing in the hills.
We slowed down after a moment. It was possible to look out of the window and see the countryside as it slid silently past.
“Lovely trees, aren’t they?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said in agreement. They were. I leaned back and let myself enjoy the scenery—tall, green trees, white, pale sky just settling into the pale orange and gold of sunset. I was deeply aware of the man in the seat beside me and his every gesture, from the way he gripped the wheel to the way he stroked a hand across his temple, flattening his own wild-ruffled hair.
Jack and Cammi were playing some complicated game involving the number of yellow cars they spotted, their voices shrill in the back. Here, in the front of the car, Alex was strangely silent. The sun was setting, the trees long-shadowed.
Alex drove us onward until, after a time difficult to measure, we arrived at the bank of a small river. Cool shade surrounded us. The water danced under the light.
“Here we are,” Alex said, smiling. “Okay, kids! Who wants to run around?”
“Me!” Cammi shouted.
“Whee!”
The children vaulted out, giggling excitedly, as he opened the door, letting them out onto the cool green grass. They rushed off toward the water’s edge, leaving Alex and I surrounded by a bubble of silence.
“It’s beautiful here.”
“I thought you’d like it,” Alexander said, with a gentle smile.
I swallowed hard. He thought I’d like it? He actually cared about what I thought? My heart thumped. I smiled nervously back, feeling my throat suddenly stiff with shy pleasure.
“The sunset over the river is…moving,” Alexander said, indicating the distant orange glow where it shone on the water, turning all of it to radiant, polished metal.
“It is,” I agreed quietly.
Together, with the water lapping at the bank before us, we stood and watched the sunset. Alexander moved closer. When his hand brushed my own my heart stopped. Slowly, gently, his fingers curled around so that they held mine.
When his hand was over mine, I thought I would stop breathing, but I didn’t. Instead, I carefully clasped his own. His fingers were strong and warm and the skin was soft, which was unexpected and deeply arousing. I held his hand and, together, alone in the silence, we watched the light on the river.
“It is nice here, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I used to bring the kids here often. Good place to let them run and work off some energy. There’s nothing for them to run into or break here,” he said with a huff of laughter.
“You mean like the lawn?” I asked archly. I regretted the words the moment I had said them.
“Yes,” he said. “Like that. Emma,”
“What?” I asked.
“I didn’t know what I was doing. You do understand. Don’t you? I didn’t mean to be a…a tyrant with them.” His eyes were beseeching and I wished I knew what to say to answer his desperate need to be assuaged and reassured.
I sighed. “You were doing your best, Alexander.”
It was, I think, the first time I used his name. He started, as if I had slapped him. We stared at each other and he smiled.
“Really?”
“Yes.” I swallowed hard, brushing a stray hair off my brow to compose myself. “I know you love them. I can see it. They know it too. Though I think little things like this really help,” I added, looking toward the water, where Jack was reaching in and Cammi stood on the bank beside him, shouting excitedly.
“I hope so,” he added. He, too, was watching the children. While they stood there, his arm strayed, coming to rest with his hand on my shoulder.
Oh, my word.
My heart was pounding, and yet I felt as if my whole world had just stopped, standing still somehow, the sunset a painting before my eyes while the only reality was between us, his touch on my arm, his voice in my ear. It felt as if we had stood thus forever. I thought it was a foolish thought. But it felt real. It felt right.
“Alexander.”
“What?” he asked, turning, one dark brow raised in questioning.
I giggled, and looked at my feet. I hadn’t really wanted to say anything, just to say his name. It felt nice. I hadn’t realized I had spoken it aloud. “Sorry. Nothing.”
“Tell me.” He squinted at me, wanting to tease me into telling whatever it was I was thinking of.
“No, really,” I insisted. “It was nothing.”
“Well then,” he said very softly.
With that, he leaned forward. His lips met mine.
If heaven had a taste, it was there. And if I could choose to feel anything in my life every day from this moment until I died, it would be the feel of his lips sliding, tentative and exploratory, over mine.
When the children came running up from the water, shouting excitedly and waving the stick they had salvaged, I was standing decorously beside Alexander. One would have had to look carefully to see the trail of moisture on his lip, the bruising on my own. But it was there.
Fortunately, the children didn’t look too closely. But he did. When we all turned to walk back to the car, the children following his easy gesture with the keys, he lifted his hand and carefully traced my lip with his thumb. I kissed it. He smiled.
Feeling as if I had entered paradise, I walked with him to the car. Later, I would wonder about this. Later, I was sure, I would regret it. I would question what he was thinking, and question what I was thinking, and doubt the wonder that I felt and doubt his sincerity. Now, just now, with the light gilding the road before us, the wind soft in the leaves, life was perfect and I would do nothing to question it.
Chapter 6
Emma
I woke up the next morning with my head in the clouds, feeling on top of the world. I had dreamed strange, distant dreams that left me smiling. My stomach was full of fluttering. I rolled out of bed and walked across the soft carpet to draw the curtains.
Alex.
I could not forget yesterday, his words. His kiss. I wished I could understand what went on in his head, what made him act the way he did with me the one moment, the change everything the next.
He was so cold the other day, sending me out of his office, even though I knew he wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted him to. And then, the next day, he made a special outing and included me? Stood with me, as if we had known each other for lifetimes. Asked my help.
What is this all about?
As I washed my hair in the shower, loving the scent of the shower-gel I had found in here when I arrived, I tried to understand. Of all the scenarios that marched resolutely through my mind, the only one I refused to consider was that Alexander Carring might have feelings for me. It made absolutely no sense.
He’s a billionaire, for pity’s sake. He could have any stunning starlet he wanted. He’s not going to go falling for some sassy-mouthed nanny because she bosses him around.
I knew I was probably being unfair to myself, but then, I was trying to be realistic. Surely it was just true that he wouldn’t think of me like that? I wasn’t exactly stunning and, in
my own mind, I had little else to recommend me.
I sighed, rolling my shoulders as the warm water soothed the tension. Stepping somewhat-reluctantly out of the floral steam, I walked across the smooth tiles and into the bedroom again. I had moved my things into the elegant wardrobe two days after I arrived, and I surveyed them carefully.
When I found myself with two shirts, hesitating over which one—the brown or the red—best brought out the hazel of my eyes, I stopped.
Emma? This is crazy.
I threw both shirts on the bed, reaching for my most-horrid one and pulled it resolutely on, letting my hair untangle down my back.
“You’re behaving like a teen girl,” I told myself harshly, glaring at my reflection. She glared back, hands on hips, but somehow she didn’t seem too embarrassed about that. I sighed.
Assuming that the impossible were true, that Alexander Carring might actually like me, then what? Would I really want to be involved with such a man? Face the media storms, the premieres, the events he had to attend? I was frumpy, inelegant, irredeemable. I wasn’t the sort of woman who could do that. And would I want to walk into his life?
Emma, you don’t even know who his wife is.
It was true. I sighed, sinking into a seat. I looked at the clock, checking the time, then closed my eyes. It was eight o’clock. Still a while until the kids appeared for breakfast. I had time to think. Except that, suddenly, I didn’t want to. Didn’t want to face the idea he might have a wife.
“Of course he does, Emma!”
Well. He must have done, or who was the mother? And who, for that matter, was in the set of framed portraits in his office?
He was probably divorced, in which case there would be the ex to deal with and the children having to see her every other week—well, they hadn’t yet, but this was his holiday, which was presumably why he hired me—and having to know he still loved her.
I shook my head, wondering at my stupidity. Of course he still loved her. Why would that bother me? If he loved me too, that would be enough.
I laughed, standing up and walking to the window. Outside, the trees rustled in the wind. If Alexander Carring truly loved me, I thought, hugging myself and feeling a deep, happy warmth fill me, then I wouldn’t mind if he loved every woman in creation. As long as he loved me too. That would be enough.
