by Lucy Keane
‘Jess is still at your cottage with Charlie, and Celia’s at home. They both insisted that I remind you that you never said anything about not telling me which train you were on.’
‘I forgive them,’ she offered magnanimously. ‘And what’s Charlie been up to?’
‘Nothing. Except he wants to ask you if Rasputin can come to the wedding.’
‘Oh,’ she said. And then, carelessly, ‘Whose wedding?’
‘Ours.’
A typical Julius assumption, that—and he hadn’t even asked her!
And typical again that before she’d even opened her mouth to point it out he was on to another subject. ‘Your family has a strange way with names—’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Well, among other things, why on earth did you call a respectable English tabby after a Russian monk of doubtful character?’
What other things’? ‘My mother used to think he had mesmeric eyes.’
‘They’re not mesmeric,’ he said shortly. ‘They’re crossed.’
She kissed his chin and stared up at him adoringly. ‘That’s a pity,’ she said, ‘because they remind me a bit of yours.’
They took the elaborate meal into a small sitting-room at the back of the house, where there was a fire alight in the wide old hearth. A very young red setter lay in front of it, and leapt up in demented welcome at Julius’s appearance.
‘She’s Charlie’s,’ he explained. ‘I hope you don’t mind. She was a present from my sister Sally before she moved into her own house. We’ve only had her a couple of months, so she’s still a bit of a delinquent.’
Amy laughed as the animal licked enthusiastically at her face. ‘She’s lovely! What’s her name?’
It was the pause, as well as the choice of phrase, that gave it away. ‘We’re… still discussing it.’
And that was typical Charlie! She was very amused. Her eyes, a wicked blue, met his. ‘One of the “other things” you mentioned? I don’t mind!’
‘But I do!’ he said firmly. ‘I’m not having my wife’s brother yelling for a dog that has the same name as my wife—even if he does call it Ames. “Amy” means beloved—it’s a beautiful name and it’s going to stay that way!’ The tone of his voice belied the humour in his eyes, something that was very familiar to her now.
‘So what’s he calling it now?’ she asked curiously.
‘Jess.’
The conversation degenerated after that.
They had dinner by candlelight, and a discussion on the topic of Cookery Unlimited prompted her to ask doubtfully, ‘I suppose you think I ought to give up cooking and devote myself entirely to you?’
‘I don’t think anything of the sort! Darling, I want you to be happy. Do whatever you like—I mean it. It’s up to you where we live—and if you want to stay down here permanently and run the business from here there’s a cottage in the grounds we could do up for Jess and you can both start a gastronomic revolution in Wiltshire. Charlie has great plans for the cellars since he found out about home-made wines from Sally.’
She groaned. ‘That’s all we need!’
Julius put his arms round her, pulling her close. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll see that he doesn’t get into any trouble. I don’t want you to have to worry about Charlie—or anything—from now on. All right?’
‘All right.’ After a while, she said, ‘There’s something I’ve wondered about for a long time—you know that day you found me asleep in the church porch?’
‘The Sleeping Beauty stunt?’
‘It wasn’t a stunt!’ she protested indignantly. ‘I was exhausted! Anyway, I had this dream. You didn’t, I suppose, kiss me… did you?’
He traced a line down her nose with one finger, and then the contours of her mouth. ‘I don’t usually go round kissing the kind of people who fall asleep in church porches—or who climb in through people’s windows for that matter—though it did cross my mind!’ There was a pause. ‘Talking of kissing…’
‘Mm,’ she agreed, her eyes meeting his. ‘But there’s just one thing I’d like you to know first, Julius Prior—’
‘What’s that?’
‘You haven’t actually asked me to marry you.’
There was a surprised silence. ‘I haven’t?’
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘And I think it’s time someone pointed out to you that people do like to be asked things rather than told them!’
One dark eyebrow was raised in genuine amazement. ‘But you are going to marry me, aren’t you?’
And somehow, after that, there really wasn’t much point in waiting for a more appropriately phrased question! She gave a sigh, and managed to sound convincingly resigned. ‘I suppose I’ll have to, since Fiona was so keen on coming to the wedding—I thought she could sit beside Jacquie and Zoe…’
He laughed and pushed her back on the sofa, and all of a sudden she found herself trapped by his weight, as his lips burned impatient little kisses in a trail across the side of her face to her mouth. She could only just get her next words out—and they were her last, for quite some time…
‘It’d make their year…!’
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