by Holly Ford
Ella shot a sideways glance at Luke. Had he forgiven her yet? Hard to say. He seemed to be concentrating on his food. She resisted the urge to touch him again. He was wearing the grey sweater she loved so much, and Ella felt her heart swell. Luke might have feet of clay, but it had to be said, he was very beautifully sculpted.
Upstairs at the end of the evening, not wanting to make the same mistake twice, Ella decided not to get into bed until Luke got back from the bathroom. Instead, she sat down to transfer the shots she had taken of Windy and Ash onto her laptop. She hadn’t had a chance to look at them yet, but she didn’t have high hopes for her work. Fast-action photography wasn’t her forte. There were a couple of good, moody shots of Ash saddling up before he opened the gate and all hell broke loose … Yep, then a load of rubbish. Ella sighed. Oh, but that was good. And that. And that … It was more down to good luck than good management, but she’d managed to frame a very good series of close-ups of Ash’s muscles at work as he tried to control the horse. She paused to consider a shot of his bare forearm as he pulled back on the reins, hips forward, his body held with a dancer’s grace.
‘Jesus.’ Luke looked over her shoulder on his way to the door. ‘I thought you were supposed to be documenting high country life, not making cowboy porn.’ He stomped out to the bathroom.
Well. She had something in her luggage that might cheer him up. Closing her laptop down, Ella rummaged in her bag for the sheer black lace slip she’d bought in the airport mall at LAX. She hadn’t quite had time to try it on, but it was stretchy and it looked as though it would fit. Undressing quickly, she pulled it over her head and checked out her reflection in the mirror on the wardrobe door. Crikey. Filled out, it was sluttier than she’d thought. That ought to do the trick. She pulled a condom out of the packet in Luke’s bag. Where could she put it? Her outfit didn’t exactly have a pocket. She tucked it under her pillow. Now all she had to do was stay awake … Ella settled onto her chair.
Luke returned to the room. Without looking at her, he put his toilet bag down on the chest of drawers, walked across the room to the bed, and began to take his clothes off. Waiting patiently for him to notice her, Ella caught her breath a little as he drew the grey sweater over his head. At last, he glanced back.
Ella stood up and walked towards him.
Turning fully, Luke looked her up and down. ‘Is that supposed to be for my benefit?’ he asked.
‘I thought you might like it.’
‘Take it off,’ he snapped.
Boy, he really was in a mood. ‘Fine.’ She peeled the slip over her head.
Luke sat on the edge of the bed.
‘What I like,’ he told her, seeming displeased with the word, ‘is you.’
Taking her by the hips, he pulled her down onto his lap.
‘No wardrobe, no props.’ He slid his hand up between her breasts, spreading his fingers over her heart. ‘Nothing between us. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ she soothed. Ella put her arms around him. He might, she decided, feeling the hard press of his naked chest against her breasts, have a point. She pushed her face into his shoulder, her parted lips brushing his skin as her body sparked to his touch.
‘Shh,’ he breathed against her ear, some time later. She could hear the smile in his voice. ‘You’ll wake the neighbours.’
She bit his earlobe gently. ‘Isn’t that what you want?’
‘Look at me.’
Opening her eyes, Ella looked into Luke’s. Oh, she did love him, God help her. Utterly and completely. With all his flaws. Because without them, he wouldn’t be real and he wouldn’t be him, and she wanted him just the way he was, and she couldn’t love him more.
‘There,’ he said softly. ‘That’s what I want.’
Biting back a groan, Ella dug her fingers into his shoulders.
When she woke up the next morning, the room was full of soft grey light. Perfect! Ella stretched luxuriously. A rainy Sunday morning with nothing to do. Luke must have got up and drawn the curtains, but he was back in bed, propped up on one arm smiling down at her. Smiling back, she ran her hand over his bicep. Luke stroked her cheekbone.
‘You’ve got mail,’ he told her.
What? Oh! This time Ella heard her phone beep. She must have forgotten to switch it to night mode.
‘Rather a lot of it,’ Luke added.
Oh dear, that didn’t bode well. With a sinking feeling, Ella rolled over and reached for her phone. Shit. Emails from Damian’s booking agency, Damian, the airline …
‘Let me guess.’ Luke’s fingers traced her spine. ‘You have to go somewhere?’
‘I’m so sorry.’ She turned to face him. ‘The Newsweek job’s been brought forward a day. We have to fly out to Melbourne tonight.’
‘What time?’
Ella watched his face. ‘Five o’clock.’
Luke sighed. ‘I guess we’re not staying for lunch, then.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
He rolled his eyes, then, leaning over her, kissed the tip of her nose. ‘I’ll drive you to the airport.’
Ella wrapped her arms around him. ‘I don’t want to go.’ The thought made her feel like crying, in fact. She pressed her body against him as hard as she could.
‘I know.’ Luke held her even tighter.
‘What time is it now?’ Ella asked him miserably, struggling to remember what it had said on her phone.
‘It’s okay,’ he said gently. ‘It’s early. Seven o’clock.’
Raising her face, she sought out his mouth with hers. God, it felt good to have his arms around her. How could she possibly have to leave? They should be able to do this all day. All week. The only place she wanted to be was even closer to him. She ran her hands up into Luke’s hair as he began to kiss her harder.
Not nearly enough hours later, Ella zipped up her suitcase with a sigh and cast a final glance around the bedroom. Right, then. Time to go. What had she forgotten?
Luke quartered the room. Bending suddenly, he picked up the black lace slip from among the shadows on the carpet.
‘What are you doing?’ she frowned, as he stuffed it into his own bag.
‘You’re not taking that to Melbourne. I’m confiscating it.’ Looking much more like his usual self, he shot her a wicked grin. ‘You might get it back for bad behaviour.’
He slung his bag over his shoulder, picked up Ella’s suitcase, and headed towards the door. As he passed the bed, he froze, a look of alarm flaring in his eyes.
‘What is it?’ Ella asked him.
Luke started to laugh. ‘Cally’s cat.’
‘Doug?’ She frowned. ‘I don’t think he’s hers.’
‘Well, whoever’s he is’ — Luke took a step back — ‘he’s wrapped around my ankle.’
Putting down the bags, he separated the cat from his foot and placed it gently on top of the bed.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked Ella.
She sighed again.
‘Come on.’ Luke put his free arm around her. ‘We have to go.’
Chapter SIX
Lizzie woke up on Sunday morning to see Carr standing in front of the bedroom window, his jeans already on, studying the grey sky. She stretched. He looked over his shoulder, his dark eyes softening as they found her face.
‘Rain’s already gone through,’ he said. ‘This cloud’ll clear out in an hour or so.’
Lizzie, admiring the way the rainy light was playing over the muscles of his back, nodded. She knew better than to doubt his forecast.
‘I was thinking of taking the chopper up to the saddle,’ he went on, leaving the window and shrugging on a shirt. ‘I have to lay a new water line to the hut, but it won’t take long. You want to come for a ride?’
She sighed. There was nothing she’d rather do, but … ‘Ella and Luke are leaving straight after lunch,’ she said. ‘And I promised Cally I’d teach her how to slow-cook mutton.’
Carr looked at her in amusement. ‘You don’t like mutton.’
‘I don�
��t,’ she agreed. ‘But you do.’
She watched him walk back to the bed. Even after a year, he could still make her heart skip a beat. Sometimes it was hard to believe that she had the right to reach out and slip that shirt back off his shoulders … He leaned over her, his hand stroking the hair from her cheek and coming to rest below the point of her jaw.
‘Thank you.’ Raising her chin, Carr brushed his lips against hers.
‘Mum?’ Ella knocked on the door.
With a smile, Carr drew back and buttoned his shirt. Lizzie couldn’t help an inward sigh.
‘What is it, darling?’
‘I’m really sorry, but we can’t stay for lunch. We need to head off in about an hour. My next job’s been moved up. I have to be on the five o’clock flight to Melbourne.’
Oh … Well, that was a shame.
‘Sorry,’ Ella called again. ‘I feel terrible.’
‘Don’t worry about it, darling. If you have to go, you have to go.’ Lizzie paused. ‘Just hang on, I’ll be down in a minute.’
As Ella’s footsteps retreated down the hall, Carr watched Lizzie expectantly. She looked up into his eyes.
‘Let’s go flying.’
‘You sure you can’t stay tonight?’ Carr’s hands lingered on her hips.
Lizzie rested her forehead briefly against his chest before shaking her head.
‘I could make pasta.’
She laughed. ‘It’s not the mutton, I swear.’ Actually, having helped Cally get it into the oven some hours ago, she’d be quite interested to know how it turned out. ‘I have things to do in the morning,’ she reminded herself, firmly.
‘Okay.’ Nodding, Carr stood back.
Lizzie climbed into the Land Rover. Crunching off quickly before she changed her mind, she glanced back at Carr in her rear-view mirror, standing there in front of the house, his muscular hands hooked into his jeans pockets. After a near-perfect day, she felt brought back to earth in more ways than one. As the drive dropped off the knoll and into the trees, Lizzie’s heart fell further. Things to do. What were they again? Oh yes, that was right. Hitting the straight of the access road, she put her foot down, raising the dust. She had to live in her own house.
A little over an hour later, as it never failed to do, the sight of the vineyard raised her spirits. Every time she drove in, she caught her breath at how lucky she was to be able to call it her own. She had hardly dared dream, all those years she’d slogged away in London, that she would end up with something as beautiful to show for it as this. Stepping out of the Land Rover, Lizzie paused to take in her home. The sun was just sinking behind the hills, its last shafts catching the snowy tip of Black Peak, and across the lawn the long wall of glass that made up the front of the house was reflecting the sky and the rows of vines in the last of their glorious autumn colours.
With a sigh of pride, Lizzie turned, grabbed her overnight bag from the back seat, and pushed the car door to. Its clunk resounded in the silence.
It was quiet inside the house, too. She wandered around the living room, switching on lamps. The room was, of course, exactly as she’d left it. Her handbag began to bing merrily as her phone, finding itself with signal again, began delivering two days’ worth of texts. Lizzie retrieved it from the barstool under the kitchen bench, scanned the screen, and turned on the TV.
She checked her watch. Cally’s mutton should be just about ready now. Muting the ad break, she walked around the bench into the kitchen, opened the door of the fridge, poured herself a glass of wine, and thought about making a salad.
Her landline rang. Already knowing who it would be, Lizzie picked up the phone.
‘Just making sure you got home all right,’ Carr’s voice growled into her ear.
‘Safe and sound.’ Smiling, Lizzie walked back through to the lounge, wine in hand, and curled herself up on the sofa. ‘You won’t need to rescue me tonight.’
‘Shame.’ Lizzie could almost see the little twitch of his mouth. ‘I could do with some extra night-flying hours this month.’
‘You’re welcome to pop over.’
There was a pause. God, was he actually thinking about it? She was a little embarrassed at how much her heart leapt.
‘I’m not sure Mountain Rescue would wear the gas bill,’ Carr said. ‘Anyway,’ he added, more seriously, ‘I don’t want to interrupt the things you have to do.’
Ah, yes … ‘See you Friday?’ Lizzie suggested, wistfully.
‘See you then.’
She moved the phone away from her ear.
‘Lizzie?’
‘What?’
There was another static-filled pause. ‘Sleep well, okay.’
‘You, too.’ She smiled again. ‘Goodnight.’
Lizzie put down the phone. Looking at it, her smile broadened. They could probably both use some sleep.
Chapter SEVEN
‘Shoulders back!’ Ash yelled, Cally’s lunge rein in hand. ‘Keep straight! Watch the diagonal and move with the horse! Head up! Use your stomach muscles, not your spine.’
Cally gritted her teeth. She’d had enough. It was all very well for Ash to decide she was ready to move on to a livelier horse, but her new mount, Sarge, wasn’t a Quarter Horse like Pooch. The way he moved was completely different. Sarge had an actual trot, and Cally couldn’t learn to rise to it at all. She could feel how uncomfortable it was for the horse with her bouncing around like a load of ill-tied luggage up there, but for the life of her she couldn’t find Sarge’s rhythm. Thrown forward again, she steadied herself on the pommel of her saddle.
‘Ride with your body, not your hands,’ Ash shouted, for the umpteenth time, from the centre of the circle. ‘Use your knees.’
Sarge slowed to a walk. Clearly he’d had enough, too. Cally eyed the muddy ground below. Could she just get off and go home? Looking up at the lowering snow-line, she began counting to ten.
‘Kick him on,’ Ash demanded. ‘Come on, Cally, you can do this!’
No, she bloody couldn’t. Cally felt a stab of rage. It was just like being back in high school PE. She’d been mad to think that she could learn to ride.
‘Get up,’ Ash ordered Sarge.
As the horse lumbered back into his trot, Cally reached instinctively for the pommel again.
‘Jesus, Cally, you reach for that saddle one more time and I’ll tie your hands behind your back, I swear!’
Don’t cry, she ordered herself, don’t cry, don’t you dare. She sensed Ash take a deep breath.
‘Actually, why don’t we try it that way,’ he said, in a kinder tone.
What? Cally looked at him in alarm.
‘Hands behind your back,’ he instructed her firmly. ‘It’s a good exercise.’
But … she’d never stay on …
‘Go on.’ Ash’s tone brooked no argument. ‘That’s it. Hold onto one wrist with the other hand. Shoulders back. Good. You ready?’
It wasn’t really a question. She nodded dubiously.
‘Get up,’ Ash told Sarge, again.
Cally felt a moment of pure terror as the horse lurched forward. She was going to fall off, for sure. But — somehow she was still in the saddle. God, this was totally nuts. The next stride caught her off-guard again.
‘Stay with him,’ Ash urged. ‘That’s it. Watch his shoulder coming through.’
Jesus, it was a long way down. Ahead, a puddle of last night’s rain glinted in a sudden shaft of sun. Cally felt Sarge tense. Oh God, oh God! She let out a scream as the horse gathered himself and—
The ground hit Cally hard on the back, jarring every bone in her body. She lay there, eyes closed, fighting to replace the air knocked out of her diaphragm. It didn’t seem keen to return.
‘Christ!’ She opened her eyes to see Ash’s face just above her. ‘Cally, are you okay?’
She nodded, still unable to catch her breath.
Ash’s arms closed around her, pressing her against his chest as he lifted her out of the mud and into a sitting position. �
��God, I’m so sorry.’
He looked, Cally thought through her daze, unusually pale.
‘I just thought … I … you were doing so well …’
Well? She hadn’t been doing well. What the fuck was he talking about? She stared at him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated desperately. ‘I’m …’ Ash’s hand stroked her hair. ‘Cally, I’m …’ His tawny eyes, full of concern, roamed over her face. Removing his other hand from her shoulder, he brushed something from her cheekbone. ‘I …’
Jesus, why was he looking at her like that — just how much of a baby did he think she was? Cally frowned. And why was he still holding onto her? Suddenly acutely aware of how very close he was, she looked away. ‘I’m fine,’ she said shortly, getting her breath at last. ‘I can get up by myself.’
Slowly, Ash released her, sitting back on his heels in the mud. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have pushed you.’
No, he fucking well shouldn’t. ‘It was my fault.’ Cally wiped her mud-covered hands on her jeans. ‘I shouldn’t have listened to you.’
She looked around, re-establishing her bearings. A few metres away, Sarge, still trailing the lunge rein, stood watching them guiltily from dry ground. Slowly, Cally scrambled up to her feet, ignoring Ash’s helping hand. ‘Why did he do that?’ she asked.
‘He’s got a thing about water.’ Ash sighed heavily. ‘I’d forgotten.’
‘But he’d already been through that puddle a million times today.’
‘Yeah.’ He sighed again. ‘But that time it was shiny.’
‘You can’t trot through shiny water?’ Cally looked back at Ash, unable to help the beginnings of a smile.
‘You have to jump,’ he smiled tentatively. ‘Apparently.’
‘Are all the horses around here crazy?’
‘A little bit,’ Ash nodded, appearing to give it some thought.
Cally stared down at the mud. Locating her hairclip, she picked it up, wiped it off on her sweatshirt, and put it back in her hair. At least, she thought, peering behind her as she tried to brush the worst of the mud from the back of her jeans, she wasn’t wearing one of Lizzie’s jumpers.
