This Other Eden (Skimmerdale Book 1)

by Sharon Booth

  The door opened, and Eliot stood there, looking embarrassed. 'I'm sorry. I've done it again, haven't I? I had no right to talk to you like that.'

  She looked up at him, feeling awkward. 'You had every right. I shouldn't have pushed you.'

  'No, no, it were a simple enough question.' With a sigh, he sat back beside her on the sofa and examined his hands, as if they were the most fascinating things he'd ever seen. Eventually, he broke the silence. 'It's not what you think, you know.'

  'Oh? And what do I think?' Eden herself wasn't even sure any longer, so she failed to see how he could know.

  'You think Jemima and me were some great love story come to life. The farmer and the posh girl. Love against the odds.'

  'Well, weren't you?'

  'At first, maybe. I couldn't believe a girl like her was interested in someone like me.' He half smiled. 'She was beautiful, no doubt about it. Mind, she knew it. Took me a while to realise it weren't real — what she felt for me, I mean.'

  'In what way? She loved you enough to marry you,' said Eden.

  'Nah. She married me for two reasons. One was lust. Oh, aye. She fancied me all right, and that side of things was real enough. At least, at first. But the main reason she got with me was to spite her family. They wanted her to marry someone more suitable, you see, and Jemima wasn't one for doing what her family wanted. She liked to do things her way. They had someone in mind. I didn't know that at the time, but I soon found out. I thought they'd come round and to be fair, I think she thought they would, too. But they didn't. Never came near the place. Cut her off completely. She paid a heavy price for trying to get one over on them.'

  Eden thought of Honey. It seemed she and Jemima had a lot in common, after all. 'You're saying she never really loved you?'

  He shrugged. 'I don't think so. Not real love. Like I say, there was a lot of lust — on both sides, to be fair. Sometimes, that can get confused with love, don't you think?'

  She supposed it could. She wondered how one could tell the difference. How did a person know if they really loved someone? She knew it was lust that she'd felt since the moment she'd seen Eliot standing beside the Beetle in the centre of Kirkby Skimmer. Love was something else, something hard to define.

  What was it she was feeling now? It wasn't just Eliot's looks anymore that set her heart fluttering and made her yearn to spend every moment she could in his company. There was so much more to it than that. She loved his voice, she loved the way he cared for his children, the way he worked so hard around the farm, the way he couldn't manage a simple load of laundry without turning everything grey. She loved his smile. Hearing his laughter could make everything seem right with the world. She even loved him when he glowered at her. My God. Her heart seemed to fly up into her throat, and she took a sharp breath. She loved him!

  He was watching her, and she realised he was waiting for an answer. 'I suppose it can, yes,' she managed, then cleared her throat, sending her heart back to its rightful place in her chest. 'But, what about you? You loved her, didn't you?'

  'I did,' he admitted. 'At first, any road. I'd have done anything to make her happy, and I thought I were succeeding. Took me a while to realise it weren't me that were making her happy.'

  Eden gulped. 'What do you mean?'

  'Money,' he replied. 'She had her own money, and when we were first married, she loved spending it. Completely altered this house,' he said, looking round the room. 'Just about changed every room. Nothing was too much for her. And the clothes — my God! How anyone could need that many pairs of shoes, I'll never understand.'

  'I know what you mean,' she said, thinking of Honey and her huge walk-in wardrobe. Then she remembered the vast amount of luggage she'd brought with her and blushed.

  Luckily, he didn't seem to notice. 'Thing is, the money ran out. She'd been expecting her dad to give in by then. She was counting on him welcoming her back, and showering money and gifts on her. He didn't. Soon there was just the income from the farm to live on, and that was never going to be enough for her. Not by a long chalk.' He sighed. 'I suppose that's when it all really turned sour. She got bitter and nasty. Blamed me for everything. Said I'd ruined her life. Happen she were right.'

  'Of course she wasn't right!'

  He smiled at her. 'Nice of you to say so but look at me. I'm hardly catch of the century, am I?'

  Was he being sarcastic? He couldn't possibly be that blind, could he? 'I think you're amazing,' she heard herself say. 'Any woman would be lucky to have you.'

  'Oh, aye. Any woman would be thrilled to live in the back of beyond with a grumpy farmer and a thousand sheep for company. It's not many would be happy with this life, especially since I've barely got two pennies to rub together.'

  He sighed, and Eden couldn't help herself. She reached out and took hold of his hand. 'I think you're wonderful, and if Jemima couldn't be happy living in this beautiful place with a man like you beside her, there was something wrong with her.' She hadn't meant to say it, and she held her breath, wondering how he would react.

  He looked down at her hand holding his then up at her face. His eyes bright with emotion, he gave the slightest squeeze of her fingers with his own, and without thinking, she leaned towards him until her lips lightly touched his.

  He stilled for a moment, but as she was about to move away, she felt the slightest pressure on her mouth. She opened her eyes to see him staring at her in amazement. In the next breath, his eyes closed, the pressure increased as his arms wrapped around her, and she was pulled towards him.

  Her lips parted, and as his tongue gently probed, she responded eagerly. She fell backwards on the sofa, bringing him with her. His body was heavy against hers, and she felt as if they were merging and knew she didn't want it to stop. It was what she'd been waiting for, and she wanted him to kiss her deeper and deeper, until there was no turning back for either of them.

  Suddenly, brutally, he pulled away from her and sat up, his face ashen. 'Sorry,' he muttered. 'God knows what came over me.'

  'I — I— it must have been the emotion of the day,' she said. 'A lot's happened.' She wanted to pull him back to her, tell him she didn't care what had come over him, but could he please let it come over him again? Instead, she also sat up, smoothed her hair, and glanced at her watch. She didn't even notice what time it was, but she tutted and said, 'Crikey, I should be going up. I'll see you in the morning.'

  'Aye. You will. Goodnight, Honey.'

  She scrambled off the sofa and headed towards the door without looking back, her face burning. ''Night, Eliot.'

  It was only when she reached the safety of her bedroom that she realised she was holding her breath. She let it out and flopped onto the bed, wondering what the hell had happened, and, more importantly, how she would face him the following morning without begging for a repeat performance.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Honey threw down the remote and slumped back on the sofa, her arms crossed, and her bottom lip thrust forward in a pout. 'I'm bored. How much longer are you going to be?'

  Crispin barely glanced at her. He was sitting on the armchair, glasses perched on the end of his nose, reading through some papers he'd brought back with him from his last trip to Windleby-On-the-Weir. 'Hmm?'

  'I said, I'm bored.' Honey glared at him. Why was he ignoring her? She was sitting there, barely dressed, for God's sake. She was only wearing one of his shirts, some fake tan and a squirt of Jo Malone, and he wasn't even looking at her. He was far too engrossed in his dull political papers. Things were getting pretty dire, if she couldn't even lure him away from work when she was practically naked. She scowled. 'I think I'll go out.'

  That caught his attention, and he looked up, suddenly concerned. 'Go out? Go out, where?'

  'Into town. Do some shopping.'

  'But you can't!' Crispin removed his glasses. 'What if you're followed?'

  'Why would anyone follow me?' she demanded, thinking she might bump into Teddy again, and it would bloody well serve Crispin
right if she did. She decided to wind him up a little. 'Although,' she drawled, 'there was that car ...'

  That caught his attention. Crispin dropped the papers and looked at her in horror. 'What car? What are you talking about?'

  'It crawled by the house a few weeks ago. Almost stopped, actually, 'til the driver saw me looking.'

  'He saw you?' His face paled.

  Honey examined his features, aware that he looked older than she'd first imagined, and his lips were too thin. Not particularly kissable, at all. She couldn't imagine why he was seen as the Tory party's new poster boy. She supposed it was down to lack of competition. 'What do you want me to do? Stay away from all windows now? I was looking out, big deal. I was bored.'

  'You're always bored,' he muttered.

  'Pardon?' Her voice was sharp, and he swallowed nervously.

  'You say a car crawled by? What sort of car? Did you recognise the driver?'

  Honey considered. 'I didn't get a good look at him,' she admitted. 'Anyway, it was a red Mini.'

  'A red Mini?' Crispin frowned. 'That rings a bell.'

  'You know someone who drives a red Mini?'

  'Not personally but ... I know! That day when I was waiting for you in the lay-by at Carpington. A red Mini pulled up just after I did, and the bloke turned off his engine and waited. I was nervous, but then he took out a paper and seemed to be doing a crossword puzzle or something, so I thought no more of it. And, of course, I had other things to think about that day.'

  'I don't remember it,' said Honey. 'Gosh, do you think we were followed? How thrilling!'

  'It's not bloody thrilling, at all. If this man's a journalist, I've had it! Lavinia will kill me, then she'll divorce me. I'll be ruined. The Party will disown me. I'll be a pariah. Oh, my God!'

  He really was a pathetic drip, thought Honey. If it wasn't for the thrill of being the other woman, and of causing her parents such angst and inconvenience, she would happily dump him and go home. The only thing that kept her going was the thought of Freya's and Cain's faces when she announced, in September, that she was still seeing Crispin and their little plan had spectacularly failed. She couldn't really think what would happen beyond that. She was undecided. She could either string them along for a few weeks, torturing them with her imaginary passionate affair before dumping him, or she could blow the lid on the whole thing. She would be in all the newspapers. She'd probably get a full-colour spread in All the Goss and take part in Big Brother. Or Strictly Come Dancing. That would be fun. She might get partnered with a real hunk and end up having an affair with him, too. Imagine how many column inches that would get her!

  She'd not intended for the affair to become public but, really, Crispin was asking for it. He'd been distracted, dull, and an utter wimp. He deserved a shaking up. She'd thought he loved her, but she had a sneaking suspicion it was more about getting one over on his dragon of a wife. The truth was, she'd had a more exciting time that afternoon with Teddy than she'd had all summer with Crispin. Teddy had been totally sweet, and rather lovely in bed. He wasn't as experienced as Crispin — she'd realised that pretty quickly — but he was willing to learn, and so obviously smitten with her that it was a terrific turn-on. Afterwards, he hadn't reached for the papers or checked his mobile phone, either. He'd lain beside her, talked to her, asked her about herself, her hopes, her dreams. He'd been so lovely, she'd had to be extremely careful not to trip up and let him know who she really was. As he was leaving, he'd asked to see her again, but she'd told him it was far too complicated. Crestfallen, he'd insisted she take his number, in case she changed her mind. The way things were going, she was jolly tempted to call him, but things were messy enough already.

  Crispin chewed his fingernails, which wasn't an attractive look. 'Maybe we ought to call it a day. Both of us head home, just in case, and hope to God nothing comes of this.'

  'Are you joking?' Honey glared at him. 'You're seriously saying you want me to go home, after everything I've been through?'

  'You haven't been through anything,' he said. 'It's me who's been the nervous wreck for the last few weeks. It's a wonder I haven't had a coronary, I'm under so much stress.'

  'So, you're finishing with me?'

  He looked appalled. 'Of course not. I still want to see you, darling. It's just ...'

  'Just that it's too risky, and you're too scared.'

  He looked wounded by her scornful tone. 'Be fair. I have such a lot to lose, and if we have been followed by that chap in the Mini, God help us.'

  Honey fumed. After all the effort she'd put in, he was going to throw in the towel? She was about to tell him to stick their affair where the sun didn't shine, when it came to her that she would have to go back to Upper Bourbury. Cain would discover the truth, and she would look a fool. She would have to admit he'd been right, and she'd be in huge bother for lying to him. She didn't even have a job to go back to, and if Cain stopped her allowance ... No, she couldn't risk it. She needed to keep Crispin sweet 'til the end of the summer holidays, then she could dump him and head back home, with Cain believing she'd been a good girl and served her time in Yorkshire, and ...

  She sat up straight suddenly. 'Yorkshire.'

  'What?' Crispin frowned. 'What has Yorkshire got to do with any of this?'

  'Everything! Do you know how remote the Yorkshire Dales are? There's a place where sheep outnumber humans by a million to one.'

  'Really?' He looked a bit worried, obviously thinking she'd lost the plot. Either that or he had a phobia of sheep. That wouldn't surprise her, either.

  'Well, something like that anyway,' she said. 'The point is, I can't go anywhere round here, in case someone sees me. In Skimmerdale, no one would see me if I walked for miles. Well, maybe a few sheep. And even in the villages, no one has the internet, and no one would know or care who I was.'

  'I'm sure they'd know who I was!' Crispin sounded indignant.

  'Well, then, it can be your turn to stay shut up like bloody Rapunzel,' she snapped. 'Pass me your laptop.'

  'What are you doing?'

  'Booking us a holiday getaway in Skimmerdale,' said Honey, laughing. 'Oh, the irony. The very place I was supposed to be, and here I am going there of my own free will. My father would be furious. It's priceless.'

  'Are you sure about this?'

  'Absolutely.' She switched on the laptop and settled down comfortably. 'I'll be well and truly getting the better of my vile parents. This, my dear Crispin, is the icing on the cake.'

  ****

  Teddy was waiting at the end of the lane, as Honey had known he would be, even though it was barely seven o'clock in the morning. He was obviously smitten, which was rather sweet and totally understandable.

  'I'm so glad you called,' he murmured, slipping an arm round her waist and pulling her close. His lips eagerly sought hers and she shivered, suddenly wishing she had more time and not a mere ten minutes or so before Crispin woke up. 'Shall I come back to yours?'

  Reluctantly, Honey moved away. 'Sorry, sweetie. I'm afraid I called you to say goodbye.'

  'Goodbye?' His eyes widened. 'You're leaving? Why?'

  'Something came up.' She glanced down at his trousers and giggled. 'Something else came up. Gosh, I do have a startling effect on you, don't I?'

  'You know you do.' He took hold of one of her hands and squeezed it gently. 'We have a real connection, don't we? Don't you feel it, too? You must do, or you wouldn't have called me to say goodbye. You could have left without saying anything. I know we haven't known each other long, but there's something between us, isn't there?'

  'Yes, a huge erection,' she said, unable to keep the admiration from her voice. 'Look, Teddy, you're a darling, and we had an amazing time, but I have to leave.'

  'Where are you going?'

  She hesitated, but she didn't suppose it mattered that much. She would never see him again, after all. The thought gave her a sudden pang of regret, but she pushed it away. He was just a young man she'd met in a café when she'd been feeling low
. All right, he'd been wonderful in bed, and he was kind and interesting and sweet, but after all, it couldn't go anywhere, could it? He worked in a charity shop, for God's sake, and, besides, she'd be going back to the Cotswolds soon. There was no point in continuing anything. 'Yorkshire,' she said.

  'Yorkshire? But that's miles away. Why on earth would you go there?'

  He sounded incredulous and she could hardly blame him. She hadn't been able to imagine why anyone would go all the way up there, either, after all.

  'It's — business.'

  'Well, whereabouts in Yorkshire?'

  'Skimmerdale.'

  'Never heard of it.'

  'Me neither until very recently,' she admitted. 'Some ghastly little place called Beckthwaite, with no coffee shops, no chain stores. Primitive, really.'

  'Then why go?' His voice was pleading, and he stroked her face gently. 'Tell him to go on his own. Stay with me. Please, Eden.'

  She frowned. 'Tell who to go on his own?' she said. 'Who told you I was with a man?'

  He shrugged. 'It was obvious. You'd clearly sneaked me into the cottage while someone was away, and if it was another woman, why would it be a secret? Unless you swing both ways, of course.'

  'Well, no, I don't. And you're right. Sorry.'

  'It's all right. I knew what I was getting into and I didn't care. I wanted to be with you.'

  'You're awfully intense considering you hardly know me.'

  'Love at first sight,' he told her. 'I fell for you the moment I set eyes on you. I've sworn to myself that one day, you and I will be together.'

  'Really?' She studied his face for signs that he was teasing her, but he looked deadly serious. 'Hmm, well, that's a teensy bit creepy, if I'm honest.'

  'Don't be scared of me,' he said. 'I'd never hurt you. I'm not some weird stalker. I love you, that's all.'