by Amberlee Day
She giggled as it played again in her head, and buried her face in her pillow. Only there was something different about her pillow, and something really was tickling her.
Beverly’s eyes flew open. White shirt, buttons … chest hair? She tilted her head up to see Ned’s eyes, inches away, looking down at her with an expression she couldn’t decipher.
Oh my gosh! Be cool, Beverly. Don’t freak. Was I snoring?
The lighting in the room had changed, no longer amber but full of natural light. She’d slept till morning, in Ned’s arms! Her fingers lay across his chest, and she stared at them, wondering if they knew she’d never have done that awake. And yet, it felt prudish to suddenly move.
She gulped, wondering about her breath. “Good morning.”
“Good morning. Did you stay warm?”
“I did, thank you.” She started to pull away. “You can’t be very comfortable with me using you as a pillow. Sorry.”
But when he held her fast, she didn’t resist. “I wouldn’t get up yet,” he said. “The room really did get cold.”
“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”
He didn’t say anything else, and she wasn’t sure what sort of conversation she should start with someone she’d only known a couple of days, fought with several times, and now found herself cuddled up to. All night.
She inhaled, his woodsy-citrus scent waking her senses. “Um … any sign of rescuers coming soon?”
“Not yet. I’ve been watching ever since the sun came up.” His voice came soft and intimate, much different than when they’d spoken in the past. “I have meetings all morning I need to get ready for. When someone wanders down this way, I’ll see them.”
“Right. Perfect.” He didn’t say anything else, and she wondered again if she had snored, although she didn’t think she usually snored. A disturbing thought occurred to her, though: she did sometimes talk in her sleep. If she did, would it be something about that dream she had where he kissed her? Maybe she could find out. “So, what have you been thinking about, since the sun came up?”
“I keep trying to understand why my father is suddenly so excited to have your aunt here.”
Not what she expected. “Oh. Yes, we wondered about that, too. Do you think he just realized that there would be some benefit to it?” She shifted a little, and when her thigh rubbed against his, she froze. It was one thing to be huddled for warmth, another to brush up against him. No more moving.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s it,” he said. “Not knowing my father. I think there’s something motivating him.”
“You could ask him.”
“And risk him rescinding the offer? Not a chance. And frankly it doesn’t help when you say things to make him mad.”
Beverly really started to pull away now, an angry protest rising to her lips, but Ned’s arms tightened around her.
“Listen,” he said gently, “you can get up if you like, but this is nice, and I think we can talk and even disagree and still be close to each other.”
Beverly’s words drew back in and hit her heart with reverberating force. Ned wasn’t just being polite to keep her warm, and clearly wasn’t the womanizing playboy she’d accused him of being at Trenforth Castle. And it made her heart flutter to know he thought this was nice, too. She wouldn’t think too hard about that right now.
Relaxing back into her spot in his arms, she said, “You still haven’t explained to me why this is all so important to you, having this book written.”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
She shrugged. “Pride? Prestige? You mentioned the other day that Demander deserved it.”
Where she was pressed against his chest, she felt his breath rise and fall in a deep sigh. “I do think Demander deserves it, but not for some desire for prestige, or anything you might think would be associated specifically with me.”
“What, then? Help me understand.”
“My father was gone a lot when I was growing up. The castle was both our home and my mother’s project—or one of her projects, at least. She was an amazing woman. Very creative.”
Beverly pictured the touches throughout the castle that struck her as feminine and updated: the arrangement of pictures along the hallway, the selection of antique knickknacks and quilts, and the addition of deep plush rugs to warm up the bedroom hardwood floors. She imagined these were the results of his mother’s hand.
“The history of this place was very important to her,” he continued. “She wanted to maintain the authenticity but still make it comfortable and inviting to modern guests.”
“I think your father thinks a lot about what appeals to ‘modern guests.’”
Ned nodded. “Dad didn’t have a lot to do with what went on here. He was always off checking out other investments, sometimes even overseas. After my mother died and he inherited, it occurred to me that he didn’t have a lot of say around here because she hadn’t let him.”
“But then the place was his.”
“Right. You wouldn’t believe the changes he’s talked about making. Lots of glass design and metal; modern art and furniture. He’s even talked about knocking out walls to update room designs and add more windows.”
“Changing the name to Sterling and turning the library into a bar.”
“Exactly! Huge changes. You see why it’s important to officially establish the history here? My goal, once the book is written, is to present it to the town council and introduce the idea of creating a historical district in town.”
“Historical district?” She looked up into those gorgeous eyes, trying to understand his plan faster. “But I’ve walked through parts of the area, Ned. Even right here around the castle there are modern buildings mixed in with the old ones.”
He nodded, and while he continued to talk of his plan, his eyes moved to her lips, which sent a thrill through her, compacted by the feel of his warmth pressed close to her. She reminded herself that she was only here to keep warm.
“Which is why the idea of a historical district has been downplayed before,” he continued. “Grantsport city council is notoriously conservative.”
“That’s good, right? Uphold traditional values, recognize historical sites.”
“Yes, and no. There’s a big abhorrence to telling people what to do with their property. The assumption is that individual landowners will maintain historical sites at they see fit.”
“Which leaves your father open to make changes.”
“Exactly.”
She met his eyes again. “I do understand, Ned. I wish I had from the beginning.”
“Thank you. That means …” He breathed deeply. “More than I would have thought to hear you say it.”
She smiled up at him, and oh! His finger was suddenly on her cheek, and their nearness was no longer just about keeping warm. He traced downward along her jawline, toward her lips, making her catch her breath. Morning stubble surrounded his own mouth rather than a thick mustache, and she wondered if kissing him would be like it was in her dream. He moved a fraction closer, and she was sure she was about to find out.
A tapping noise broke the romantic spell, and she and Ned sat up at the same time. A few yards away at the library door stood the tall handyman she’d seen around the castle. He filled the frame and stood so close his nose must have nearly pressed against the window. A goofy smile hung open on his face.
“Adam!” Ned jumped up so fast that Beverly almost fell over. “Sorry, Beverly. Adam, we’re locked in!” He was at the door by then, pointing frantically at the keys in the lock outside. “Unlock the door so we can get out.”
But Adam just stood there, his gaze traveling back and forth from Ned to Beverly. She frowned at him, and pulled the curtain up higher. What was he thinking had gone on in there?
Finally, the handyman turned the keys and opened the door.
“Thank you,” Ned said, taking possession of the keys. “What time is it?”
Adam grinned at Beverly. “Half past seven.” He pointed at the cu
rtain, and the window it had come from. “Nice improvising.”
Except for telling him to shut up, Ned ignored him. He went back for Beverly, pulling off the curtain and helping her up. He was right: the room was freezing.
“Here.” He threw the curtain at Adam. “Make yourself useful.”
“Got it.” The loopy grin finally transformed into something more intelligent, and Adam went to work. “There’s a group in the lobby getting ready for a golfing excursion,” he said, nodding at Beverly. “You probably want to go up the back staircase.”
“Thank you.” She was suddenly more than ready to go—cold, worried about Aunt Affie, and needing a stop in Bath for Room 218. She hurried toward the door.
“Beverly?” Ned said.
She turned to see what he wanted. Did he want to leave her with a tender word, maybe? A look to tell her that what she’d felt between them wasn’t just because of the moment? “Yes?”
He picked up Robin Hood and Treasure Island, and walked them over to her. “You don’t want to forget your books. They cost you a good night’s sleep, after all.”
There was that twinkle in his eyes, and that turned-up corner of his mouth. Knowing they were just for her, she thought her knees would give out. Despite the gawking handyman making his way up the ladder with the curtain, she gave Ned a look that she hoped he could read. “Thanks. It was more than worth the cost.”
She scampered off for the back staircase, suppressing giggles the whole way. The staggered look on Ned’s face would linger in her mind the rest of the morning.
Ned knew he had a stupid grin on his face; he could feel it. Plus the way the housekeeping crew stared at him during their weekly meeting, and how even strangers walking past looked twice. He was sure the entire world could tell that he was thinking about a girl, and sliding that delicate slope into love.
Could you call it love after just a few days? Infatuation felt too superficial. Besides, he’d been around Beverly enough to not only be irritated by her and attracted to her, but also to see glimpses of who she was. A devoted niece, a hard worker (despite his taunting her about reading too much), and a breath of fresh air, something you couldn’t deny in an old castle. Plus, whatever his uninformed thoughts were on the reality of running a bookstore, it would certainly require some spunk and business acumen to even begin a venture like that. And he’d witnessed that Beverly Tune had spunk.
Walking into his office after updating Hannah on end-of-summer room rates, Ned’s arms ached with the memory of holding Beverly—how perfectly she fit there, the warm scent of her in the morning, and her face pressed to his chest before she woke. Would he have a chance to hold her that way again? The thought that he might not left him anxious, though he held on to that last look she gave him before leaving the library. She felt something, too; he was sure of it. And hopefully she’d decide to stay with her aunt, and they’d have more time to find out where those feelings led them.
His stomach growled, and he realized he hadn’t had breakfast yet. His heart flipped, realizing that Beverly may not have eaten either, and that he could maybe catch her in the dining room. It was Saturday, and on the weekends the hotel made a nice brunch instead of delivering breakfast baskets. Turning to leave, he stopped when the phone rang. It was an outside line coming in, and not a lot of people had the direct number, so he answered it.
“Ned, it’s Natalia.”
He frowned. From the tone of her voice, he could tell why she called. “Natalia, you need to stop this.”
“Don’t, Ned. I know it sounds stupid and desperate—”
“It wouldn’t be if things were different,” he said, trying to be kind. “I just can’t see things going the way you want them to.”
After a pause, she said, “I’m coming up tomorrow.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think you should, but I guess that’s not my call.”
“I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”
“I have to be gone tomorrow,” he said. “I’m supposed to speak at the Victoria conference, and I’ll be there a couple of days. If you get here before nine, stop in and see me.”
“I’ll try.”
“Okay. And Natalia?”
“Yes?”
“You deserve someone who’s going to love you back.”
After a pause and a sniffle, she said, “Goodbye, Ned.”
He hung up, wondering what else he might have said. But thoughts of Beverly floated into his head and clouded everything else, and he left his office in a hurry. The idea of not seeing her as soon as possible propelled him down the castle hallways as if his next breath of air waited on seeing her again.
“You have a meeting today? When did this get planned?” Beverly asked, taking a bite of her toast. Her eyes darted toward the dining room doorway in case Ned arrived.
“Pass the marmalade, would you?” Aunt Affie asked. “I thought I told you about it. That thin man from the local historical society suggested it the other night, after the lecture. You weren’t there.”
“Where was I, then? I thought I was in the library the whole time you were that night.” Thinking of the library suddenly made her feel warm, remembering snuggling with Ned under the curtain.
Aunt Affie looked grumpy. “I didn’t mean you weren’t in the library; I just meant you weren’t in the conversation. Although you did get there late, come to think of it, so you weren’t there the whole time.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
“Because I didn’t think to. I put it in my planner for today, and that’s what I’m going to be doing for an hour or two. Do you want to come?”
Beverly wrinkled her nose. She never enjoyed those types of meetings. “If you don’t need me, then no.”
Which left her some time available to spend around Ned. Doing what, she didn’t know, but the possibility was there and made her toes wiggle thinking about it.
“No, you’re free to go do what you like,” Aunt Affie said before taking a bite. More muffled, she pointed at the door and added, “Maybe you could ask Ned to continue your tour of the house.”
Beverly’s heart missed a beat as she looked up to see Ned walking swiftly toward them. He was slightly out of breath, his eyes fixed on Beverly, and she found her own breathing had quickened, too.
“What is it?” she asked, wishing her excitement didn’t show in her voice.
“What? Oh, nothing,” he said, smiling back at her and making her pulse race thinking of the early-morning memory they shared. “I see you found some breakfast.”
“We did,” she answered brightly. “Have you eaten?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Then here, sit down and join us,” she said, pointing to a chair, which he instantly claimed. He looked at her so long that she had to stifle a giggle and look away.
No one spoke for a moment, until Aunt Affie said, “What in the world am I missing?” But she sounded like she knew exactly what she was missing.
“Don’t be silly,” Beverly said.
The waiter came then and took Ned’s order. While his attention was elsewhere, Beverly tried to give Aunt Affie a stern enough look to wipe the smirk off her wrinkled face.
When the waiter left, those twinkling eyes turned back Beverly’s way. “So, what’s on the agenda today, ladies?”
“Well,” Beverly began, hoping this would lead to time with Ned, “Aunt Affie’s meeting with someone from the historical society.”
“Oh.” Ned nodded with a sympathetic expression that made Beverly want to giggle again. “That will be interesting.”
“Yes,” Aunt Agatha said, the word drawn out to two syllables. “And I think Beverly’s in need of some entertaining while I’m busy. I don’t suppose you have any thoughts on that, Ned?”
Beverly sat back in her chair, a little embarrassed at her aunt suggesting what sounded like a pity date. But still she hoped it worked.
Unfortunately,
the corner of Ned’s mouth turned down. “I wish I did. I have some work to do this morning. Remember,” he said to Beverly, “I mentioned I had meetings all morning.”
“Oh,” came another of Aunt Affie’s drawn-out responses. “So you two already spoke this morning?”
Beverly and Ned shared a confused look. No, Beverly hadn’t told her aunt about getting locked in the library all night with Ned. How would that conversation get started, especially when Beverly knew her own feelings about it would shine through her eyes?
“That’s a long story,” she told her aunt. “I’ll tell you later.” She glanced out the window. “It looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day. No rain clouds on the horizon. Maybe I’ll finally go explore Grantsport.”
“That’s a great idea,” Ned said. “There are two bookstores, one new and one used.”
Beverly beamed at him. “How thoughtful of you to think of them! Although, I am surprised you know they’re there. They probably sell novels, you know.”
A wry smile crossed his face, and that tantalizing corner of his mouth played right along. “I enjoy a good novel,” he said. “And while I may have given you a bad time—”
“May have?” she asked innocently.
“Okay, I admit, I’ve been a little obnoxious,” he amended. “But in truth, I do like a good story.”
“Really.” She didn’t believe him yet. “Prove it.”
His eyebrow rose. “Prove it?”
“Yes. What’s your favorite novel? I need a name to see if you’re telling the truth.”
