Within a few minutes, Tillie heard Blake’s footsteps on the gravel pathway and then the softer tread of him moving across the damp velvet green lawn. She turned to look at him, her heart doing that funny tripping thing again. His shirtsleeves were rolled back to his elbows from clearing away the dinner things, and his hair looked as if he had sent his hands through it for it looked more roughly tousled than it had earlier. He came to stand beside her, his shirtsleeve brushing her arm. It was barely touching her and yet it felt as if a strong fizzing current was being sent from his body to hers.
‘So peaceful at this time of night,’ he said, looking at the moonbeam shining over the lake.
‘Yes... I’m going to find it hard to leave when the time comes,’ Tillie said, and then wished she hadn’t because of the passage of silence that ensued. Did he think she was fishing for an invitation to stay indefinitely? That she wanted their fling to go on and on?
But you do want it to go on.
She quickly barricaded the thought. She didn’t want the same things as before. She was a changed woman. A single-and-loving-it woman. A woman who was embracing her passionate side without the restrictions of marriage and commitment. Their fling had just begun. They still had another few weeks to explore everything about each other. But once it was time to move on, she would move on as agreed.
Blake turned and looked down at her. ‘What are your plans once you leave here?’
Tillie refused to acknowledge the twinge of disappointment his words evoked. She had no right to be disappointed he hadn’t issued an invitation to stay on at the Park as long as she wanted.
‘I haven’t thought that far ahead,’ she said. ‘I only moved in here because Mr Pendleton’s housekeeper retired just as he had his stroke and I had to move out of Simon’s parents’ cottage at short notice. It was never a long-term thing.’
‘What will he do with Truffles if he moves into a care facility?’
Tillie glanced at the dog, who was busily chasing a moth. ‘I don’t know... I haven’t discussed it with him. He loves that dog but I can’t see him being able to take care of her properly now he’s so frail.’
The dog came over to Blake and he leaned down to ruffle her ears. ‘It must be hard growing old and losing control of all the things that are important to you,’ he said.
‘Terribly hard. I think that’s why Mr Pendleton is so grumpy just now. He’s struggling to come to terms with the limitations of aging.’ Tillie rubbed at her upper arms to ward off a shiver from the cool breeze that had whipped up.
‘Cold?’ Blake asked, moving closer to put his arms around her.
‘Warmer now.’ She smiled at him. ‘Much warmer.’
His eyes glinted in the moonlight. ‘Let’s get you inside where I can guarantee it’s going to be hot.’
And it was.
Blake woke early the next morning and took Truffles for a long walk to allow Tillie time to get ready for work. He did a circuit of the lake and then went to the elm tree where he had carved his initials all those years ago. His fingers moved over the deeply grooved childish letters, remembering the heartache he’d felt as he’d carved them there. The heartache he still felt and would always feel until he could return this property to his father where it belonged.
The slight complication of where Tillie would live after he got the property back had kept him awake last night. He didn’t want to turf her out on the streets or anything, but nor did he want to give her the impression this thing they had going could be anything more than it was. She kept insisting she was happy with a short-term fling. But where would she go after here? Her cake-decorating business was in the village, but there weren’t many good quality rental opportunities available. He had already checked when he’d first come down to suss out the territory earlier that month. There was the bed and breakfast, but she wouldn’t want to stay there unless she had the place to herself...
Blake let his mind run with the possibilities. When he’d checked out the other day, Maude Rosethorne had mentioned something in passing about retiring. The B&B would be a perfect set-up for Tillie to live and work from. The top floor could be her living space and the downstairs could be divided into kitchen and shop front with two rooms spare for a tearoom complete with cosy fireplaces. It was a perfect solution. What if he bought the B&B and gifted it to Tillie as a goodwill gesture? An end-of-the-affair thank-you gift?
Don’t you mean a conscience-easing gift?
He wasn’t listening to his conscience this time. This was about common sense. Sound business sense. Tillie would be able to expand her business and stay in the village where she was known and loved by everyone. She wouldn’t have to worry about rent hikes and baking off site due to space issues.
Why hadn’t he thought of it earlier? He would have to be careful how he broached the subject, however. She had a streak of stubborn pride he privately admired.
No, he would wait for a suitable opportunity to raise the topic with her and take things from there.
* * *
It being summer, Tillie had a rush of wedding cakes to see to at work. It meant her time with Blake over the next week or so was a little compromised, as she had to work at night on some of the more intricate decorations in between visiting Mr Pendleton as often as she could. It was frustrating because she knew her work time could be better managed if she had more revenue coming in, but her plan to relocate and expand her business to include a tearoom component had been shelved after she’d got into debt after her wedding was cancelled.
But rather than be put out by it, Blake simply took over things at the house. He had set up an office for himself where he conducted his business work, but he also spent time fixing things that were in need of a bit of maintenance in the house or on the property. When she came home each night after working, she found dinner cooked and ready to serve, and an exhausted Truffles, who had been exercised and fed and was usually lying on her back on her bed, with her head lolling to one side and with all four paws in the air in a state of complete and utter relaxation.
After her fourth and final day of working late, Tillie took the glass of wine Blake greeted her with and sank to the nearest chair and took three generous sips. ‘You know, you’d make some lucky girl a wonderful husband one day. I mean, obviously not me since I’m not in the market for a husband, but someone. You cook, you clean, you’re good with dogs and fixing broken stuff.’
Oops. Maybe I shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach.
Blake’s crooked smile didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Not going to happen.’
Tillie took a much more cautious sip of wine for something to do with her hands. ‘I got rid of my wedding cake today.’
‘You did?’
‘Yeah. I’m quite proud of myself, actually.’ She rose from her chair to fetch a glass of water. ‘Next is my wedding dress. One of the brides who came in to order a cake today was interested. I might even make some money out of it. Who would’ve thought?’
When Tillie turned around from getting the water from the kitchen tap, he was leaning against the bench on the other side of the kitchen near the cooker, watching her steadily. She gave him an over-bright smile. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘What are your plans for your business?’
‘Plans?’
‘Do you have any expansion plans to increase your profit margin?’
Tillie put her water glass back down in the sink. ‘You know, you really scare me sometimes with your mind-reading ability.’
‘What would you like to do with the shop?’
Should she tell him of her hopes and dreams for her business? Why not? He was a smart businessman. Maybe he had some hints for her to make the most of her current position, limited as it was. ‘I’d like it to be bigger for one thing. And I’d like to have a tearoom attached so that when people come in to order cakes they can also sit down and have lunch or high tea.’
‘What’s stopping you from acting on those plans?’
Tillie sighed. ‘The
M word.’
‘Money?’
‘Yup.’
‘I could help you with that,’ Blake said.
Tillie blinked. ‘Pardon?’
He pushed himself away from the bench and came over to where she was standing. ‘Maude Rosethorne wants to sell her B&B. I talked to her about it the other day. It would make a great venue for your shop.’
‘I can’t afford a place that size!’ Tillie said. ‘I’d never be able to manage the mortgage. I’m barely breaking even as it is.’
‘I’m not talking about you taking out a mortgage.’
She licked her suddenly flour-dry lips. ‘What are you talking about, then?’
His expression was as unreadable as the wall behind him. ‘I would buy it for you.’
Tillie’s mouth dropped open so far she thought she would crack a floorboard with her chin. ‘You’d do...what?’
Still nothing showed on his face. If anything it became even more inscrutable as if every muscle had been snap frozen. ‘It’d be a gift for—’
‘For?’ She leaned on the word, driving it home with a look.
‘Tillie, think about it,’ he said, some of the tightness of his face relaxing. Some. Not all. ‘You’re doing me a huge favour by helping me get back my family’s home and I want to repay you.’
‘No.’ She moved to the other side of the room and folded her arms to glare at him. ‘Seriously? What are people going to think?’
‘They can think what they like,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to tell them I bought it for you.’
Tillie gave a scornful laugh. ‘I won’t need to because Maude and her cronies will tell everyone for me. It’ll be broadcast from every outpost. Everyone in the village will be talking about how you paid me off at the end of our affair like a mistress you want to keep sweet. No, thanks. I’ll expand my business if and when I can do it under my own financial steam.’ Even if the only financial steam she had going on right now was little more than a hiss.
Blake crossed the room to take her by the upper arms, his hands gently massaging the tension gathered there. ‘Hey.’
Tillie pressed her lips together, shooting him a look from below her half-lowered lashes. ‘And don’t even think about buying me jewellery or a holiday house in the Bahamas, okay? That’s even more tacky.’
His eyes were impossibly dark as they held hers, his body so close she could feel the electric pulse of it calling out to hers like a sonar signal. ‘Is there anything you do want?’
I want you. She unwound her arms from across her middle and slid them up around his neck. ‘Let’s test that mind-reading ability of yours, shall we?’
A slow smile tipped up the sides of his mouth. ‘You know that saying about getting out of the kitchen if you can’t stand the heat?’
Tillie felt something unspool in her belly. ‘I know it.’
He scooped her up and placed her on the bench, parting her thighs so he could stand between them. ‘I’m about to turn the heat up. Think you can take it?’
‘Try me.’
He brought his mouth down on hers in a blisteringly hot kiss that sent liquid heat to the core of her body. His hands tugged at her top, hauling it over her head before unclipping her bra and sending that to the floor as well. The rough urgency of his action thrilled her far more than the slow and tender sensuality of his previous lovemaking. His hands palpated her breasts and then he put his mouth to them in turn. His lips and tongue working their magic on her senses until she was whimpering and tearing at his clothes. Need surged in her body, raw, rampant need that wanted—begged for—immediate gratification.
His mouth closed over her nipple and areola; drawing on her in a sucking motion that was part pleasure, part pain. He went to her other breast, subjecting it to the same delicious attention before he came back up to her mouth. His tongue met hers in a stabbing thrust, duelling with it, mating with it in a dance that had echoes of lust in every pulse-racing second.
Tillie got working on the fastener on his waistband, releasing the zip so she could take him in her hands. He lifted up her skirt and pushed her knickers aside to touch her intimately. She was so worked up she almost came on the spot, her body wet and hungry, empty and aching for the pressure and friction of his.
He pulled her down off the bench and turned her so she had her back to him. She braced herself by gripping the edge of the bench while he sourced a condom, every cell of her body throbbing with excitement in the countdown to intimate contact.
He drove in from behind, the slick force of him snatching her breath and sending a hot shiver coursing down the back of her legs in quicksilver streaks. His movements increased in urgency but she was with him all the way, the almost shockingly primitive rhythm speaking to her flesh in a way she hadn’t thought possible. The orgasm came with such force it made her bite back a scream as the sensations catapulted her into a spinning vortex. The spasms went on and on, deeper, richer, spreading to every corner and crevice of her body in ever increasing waves like a large stone dropped in a pond. Even her skin felt as if it had been electrified with a thousand tiny electrodes, raising it in a shower of goose bumps.
Blake gave a deep, shuddering groan and emptied, his hands gripping her hips until she was sure she would find a full set of his fingerprints on her flesh. He relaxed his hold once the storm had passed, his hands turning her so she was facing him. He was still breathing heavily, his eyes sexily bright with the gleam of satisfaction. ‘You never cease to excite me.’
Tillie toyed with one of his dark curls of hair at the back of his neck. ‘You do a pretty good job of exciting me, too.’
He brushed her mouth with his. ‘Are you ready for dinner or do you have something you have to do first?’
‘Only this,’ she said and brought his mouth back down to hers.
* * *
Blake wasn’t sure what woke him later that night. He glanced at Tillie lying beside him but she was fast asleep, one of her hands resting on his chest, her head buried against his neck. He’d been dreaming and then he’d woken with a jolt but he couldn’t remember what the dream contained. All he had was a vague feeling of unease, as if a centuries-old ghost had stepped out of the ancient woodwork and placed a cold hand on the back of his neck.
The old house creaked around him, the noises both familiar and strange.
Or maybe it was his lingering sense of frustration Tillie hadn’t accepted his offer of the B&B premises that was disturbing his sleep. He’d already spoken to Maude Rosethorne about buying it—thankfully he hadn’t said who or what for. He’d simply made her an offer and left her to think about it. But it wouldn’t take much for Maude to join the dots once the time came for his fling with Tillie to end.
What was Tillie’s problem? It was a generous gesture on his part and there were no strings attached. It was a gift that would keep on giving. Why wouldn’t she accept it and leave it at that?
He glanced at her again, his hand moving to brush a wisp of hair away from her mouth. She gave a soft murmur and brushed at her face with her hand as if shooing away whatever had tickled her face.
He’d spent the whole night with lovers before. Lots of times. He wasn’t that cold and clinical about the boundaries of a fling that he couldn’t bring himself to share a bed with a sexual partner. But no one he’d shared a bed with had made him want to hold them close all night and every night. Usually, the longer the affair continued, so the distance between them in the bed increased. It was the subtle way he sent the signal that their time was coming to a close.
But somehow with Tillie he was moving closer, not further apart. He would wake to find himself spooning with her, or with her legs entwined with his and her head resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around her. Whenever she moved away he felt a strange sense of disquiet...as if something was missing.
Tillie suddenly opened her eyes and shifted against him like a warm kitten wanting to be stroked. ‘What time is it?’ Her voice had a sleepy huskiness to it that sent his blood
south of the border.
‘Too early to get up.’
Her hand slipped down from his chest to his groin. ‘Looks like you’re already up,’ she said with a little smile that curled the edges of her mouth.
‘I’ve used my last condom,’ he said. ‘I meant to pick some up on my way home but forgot.’ How had he got through so many in the last week? Normally he had plenty to spare at this stage of a fling.
‘We could do it without,’ she said. ‘I’m on the pill and we’re exclusive...aren’t we? And we’re both free of any nasty diseases.’
Blake had seen her packet of contraceptive pills in the bathroom cupboard. He’d felt a bit of a jerk checking each day to see if she’d taken it, but still. He had to be sure she was being honest with him over what she wanted. But a part of him was worried she was in denial. She’d been hurt by the jilting. Deeply hurt. Who wouldn’t be? It was the ultimate in rejection to be dumped on the day of the wedding you had planned and looked forward to for months.
But what if she was only saying what she thought he wanted to hear? What if behind her I’m-cool-with-the-terms-of-our-fling attitude was a secret yearning for it to morph into something else?
Something more lasting...
A frown suddenly interrupted her features. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
Blake toned down the frown he hadn’t realised had formed on his forehead. ‘How am I looking at you?’
‘Like you’re cross with me or something.’
He stretched his mouth into a smile and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I’m not cross with you. Far from it.’
She chewed her lower lip as if she was mulling over something. ‘Have you ever done it without a condom?’
‘No.’
‘Not ever?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Too much of a control freak.’
She began to trace a pathway over his clavicle with her fingertip, her eyes watching the passage of her finger instead of meeting his. ‘If you don’t want to, then that’s fine. We can wait until tomorrow.’
The Tycoon's Marriage Deal Page 11
