by Holly Ford
Lizzie felt herself blush.
‘Carr was helping us out with the photoshoot today,’ explained Nick, ignoring the charge in the air.
‘Oh.’ Say something else, she told herself — anything. What was wrong with her?
Fergusson, too, remained silent.
‘No one knows the country around here better than Carr,’ Nick continued bravely.
‘I don’t know about that.’ The brown eyes left Lizzie at last. ‘Charlie and Rob get down okay?’
‘Yeah, they’re just getting changed. They should be here any minute. Why don’t you grab a drink? There’s wine and beer in the sitting room. I think Flavia’s in there.’
‘Thanks. I will.’
Lizzie watched him stalk away.
‘So.’ Exhaling, Nick raised his eyebrows at Lizzie. ‘Your first meeting …?’
‘Didn’t go well,’ Lizzie shrugged.
‘What did not go well?’ Flavia, apparently not in the sitting room, arrived at Nick’s side.
‘Lizzie and Carr,’ said Nick. ‘There’s a bit of tension there.’
Flavia frowned. ‘You do not like Carr?’
Charlotte reappeared in a clean T-shirt and jeans, her wet hair twisted up in a clip. Lizzie sighed: she still looked amazing. ‘Who doesn’t like Carr?’
‘Lizzie doesn’t,’ said Flavia.
‘I didn’t say that,’ Lizzie objected, feeling outnumbered. ‘It’s just … well, we had a bit of an altercation yesterday.’
‘An altercation?’ Charlotte’s tone made it sound like such a thing was completely out of the question. ‘With Carr?’
Flavia came to Lizzie’s rescue. ‘You do not notice, cara, because you always speak sheep with him, but to others he can seem a little … what is the word?’
‘Gruff,’ put in Nick.
Charlotte shook her head. ‘Carr’s salt of the earth. He’d give you the shirt off his back.’
Disturbingly, Lizzie caught herself picturing what that might look like.
Charlotte’s attention was caught by something in the shadows at the far end of the garden. ‘Unbelievable.’ She shaded her eyes for a better view. ‘That rabbit’s back. I thought I got it last time.’ She made a half-turn for the door.
‘Carlotta,’ pleaded Flavia. ‘Not now. We have guests.’
With a sigh, Charlotte turned back. ‘So,’ she looked at Lizzie, ‘what were you fighting with Carr about?’
Lizzie felt the beginnings of a blush.
‘Grazing rights,’ said a voice behind her.
Looking over her shoulder, Lizzie was confronted by a wall of blue shirt.
‘And boundaries,’ Fergusson added. Lizzie’s eyes travelled up to his face. That muscle was working beside his mouth, but he wasn’t looking at her — he was smiling at Charlotte. ‘I overstepped mine.’
Lizzie, who’d taken the opportunity to study his cheekbones, was caught as his eyes swept down. Flustered, she wondered if that had been an apology. And was that a smile? It didn’t look entirely friendly.
‘How’s your mother getting on?’ Abruptly, Fergusson released Lizzie’s gaze.
‘She’s fine,’ replied Nick, sounding relieved at the subject change. ‘She and Gianni are away skiing in Banff. I just emailed her today, actually. I promised I’d send her some photos of the garden.’
‘Mum lives in Milan these days,’ Charlotte explained to Lizzie.
‘With my uncle Gianni,’ Flavia put in.
‘Gosh,’ said Lizzie, trying to forget about Fergusson just behind her. ‘Italy must be quite a change for her.’
She saw Nick and Flavia exchange a look. ‘Oh, she seems to be coping,’ said Nick.
‘Andrea has a very nice garden there, too,’ said Flavia. ‘On the lake. It is amazing what will grow beside the water.’
Nick rolled his eyes. ‘She’s still worrying about her orange trees. It’s snowing in Como, apparently.’
Lizzie sipped her wine and considered the homestead behind them. Even a waterfront villa on the Italian Lakes wouldn’t drag her away from a place like this, she thought — or at least, she tried to. It was absurdly hard to concentrate with Fergusson right there. God, the man was disconcerting. Lizzie couldn’t help but be aware of every small move he made, every shift of that lean-muscled body. She could practically feel his breath on the back of her neck.
‘Lizzie!’ She almost jumped as Richard arrived at her side, proffering his arm. ‘Will you come and settle an argument? Quentin swears the last time we worked together was GQ in Bruges, but I’m sure it was Venice for Tatler.’
Relieved to be rescued, Lizzie laughed and slipped her arm through Richard’s. ‘Will you excuse me? It seems I’m needed inside. Oh …’ Turning, she discovered Fergusson still in the way. ‘Have you met? This is …’
‘Carr,’ supplied Fergusson, as she hesitated over his name. ‘We met inside. It’s Richard, isn’t it?’
Oh dear. Lizzie winced. Dickie wouldn’t like that. He’d never admit it, but he hated not being recognised.
‘It is.’ Richard’s tone was cold. ‘Excuse us, will you … Carr.’
Lizzie didn’t dare a look at Fergusson’s face as he stood aside.
‘Richard Bourne,’ she overheard Charlotte say as they walked away. ‘From TV. How can you not know that?’
‘I don’t have a TV.’ Fergusson didn’t bother to lower his voice.
‘Still?’ Charlotte teased. ‘Jeez, Carr, there’s such a thing as satellite these days, you know. What century are you from?’
As Richard whisked her through the French doors, Lizzie heard a deep laugh before Fergusson said, ‘The good one.’
Having settled Richard and Quentin’s argument — it had actually been Cannes for Esquire — Lizzie wandered through to the kitchen.
‘Can I help?’
Hannah, who so far as Lizzie could make out kept house for the Blacks, looked up from the container of peas she was shelling. ‘Sure, if you want. Pull up a chair.’
Lizzie sat down across the table. ‘You know, this is one of my favourite jobs.’
‘Mine, too.’
A bumblebee buzzed beside the open kitchen window. Lizzie watched it hover over the old-fashioned tea roses outside. As it moved off, she glanced around the room, taking in the enormous wood-burning range, the old linoleum tiles, the drying rack hanging from the ceiling. She hadn’t realised she’d missed it, but it was nice to be in an old house again — a used house.
‘Have you been at Blackpeak long?’ she asked Hannah.
‘Three years.’ She had a lovely smile, Lizzie thought. ‘I’m the new girl. Jen — that’s my partner, she should be along soon — has worked here for, oh, about six years now, I suppose it must be. She’s the head shepherd.’
‘And you both live on the station?’
‘Well, you know, it’s a bit of a commute otherwise.’
‘Yes,’ Lizzie laughed, ‘I suppose it would be.’ She looked out of the window again. Beyond the roses, the golden light of the setting sun spread over the hills. ‘What a wonderful place it must be to work.’
‘It’s the best.’
‘Okay!’ Rob poked his head through the window. ‘How are you doing in there? The barbecue’s ready when you are.’
By the time they’d eaten, it was getting close to dark. As people drifted away from the table, Lizzie, helping to clear the plates, could just make out Ella across the lawn, sitting close to Vito on the stone wall. She smiled to herself: someone’s evening seemed to be going well. She saw Vito start to lean in to kiss Ella. Oh, to be twenty-something and so swept away you didn’t care who was watching … Lizzie turned away quickly.
She collided, plates first, with Carr Fergusson. ‘Oh! I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s okay.’ He eased the plates from her hands. ‘Why don’t I take those?’
‘No,’ Lizzie managed, mortified. ‘I’ve got sauce on your shirt.’ She dabbed at it without thinking.
His free hand caught her by the wri
st. Startled, Lizzie looked up. It was too dark to read his expression. ‘It’s okay,’ he repeated, gently but firmly returning her hand to her side.
‘Lizzie.’ Richard — oh, thank God. ‘There you are.’
Fergusson turned on his heel and walked off.
‘Thank you,’ she breathed, as Richard came to her side. She watched Fergusson striding away with the plates. ‘I swear, I’m running out of ways to embarrass myself with that man.’
‘Are you?’ said Richard, softly. But before she could wonder what he meant, his tone changed. ‘Jules sent me to find you. You’ll never believe it, but’ — he smiled — ‘she has an idea for a documentary.’
In the sitting room, they found Jules already interrogating Charlotte and Rob about the best locations to shoot and noting them down on her iPad.
‘You have to head up to where we were today,’ Quentin put in. ‘Twin Burn, wasn’t it?’
‘Two Burn,’ corrected Charlotte.
Jen, the head shepherd, sat back in her chair and stretched out her legs. ‘You should talk to Carr as well, and see if he’ll let you up to the Opal Lakes. That’s an amazing spot. Hardly anyone’s ever seen it.’
Lizzie watched Jules’s eyes light up. Oh dear, she knew that look. This had the potential to turn into a very long evening.
‘Gosh,’ she said, checking her watch, ‘is that the time? You know, I hate to spoil the party, but we’d better get going — we’ve got a long drive home.’
Jules’s face fell.
‘You and Seb can take the rental if you want to stay,’ said Richard. ‘I’ll go with Lizzie.’
‘Oh! Would you mind?’ Jules brightened again. ‘Lizzie, is that okay?’
‘It’s fine.’ She hesitated, thinking about the Blacks and the early start in the morning they doubtless had planned. ‘But are you sure you know how to get home? What about the ford? Do you think you’ll get through in Richard’s car?’
‘You did,’ said Seb. ‘I think we’ll manage, Lizzie. It’s not the Zambesi, you know.’
‘Worry less,’ Jules ordered, raising her glass, ‘live more.’
‘If you say so.’ Lizzie gave up. Now all she had to do was find Ella … She glanced over her shoulder at the darkened garden outside. Instead of her daughter, she saw Carr Fergusson, who was leaning, listening to them, against the frame of the open French doors. She shivered.
Casually, Richard draped an arm around her shoulders.
‘You two get going,’ said Jules. ‘We’ll bring Ella with us.’
Lizzie hesitated. Oh, but she did want to get out of there. Suddenly more than ever.
‘Come on.’ Richard rubbed her arm. ‘Let’s get you home.’
Once through the ford and back to the main road, Lizzie turned the stereo on. Hopefully some music might unscramble her brain. As the miles flew by she was grateful for Richard’s silence. Or was he just asleep? Smiling to herself, she cast a glance sideways at the passenger seat. But no, Richard was awake and looking out at the hills, obviously wrapped up in his own thoughts, whatever those might be.
Arriving home at last, Lizzie headed automatically for the sideboard. ‘Nightcap, darling?’ Without waiting for Richard’s reply, she got out a bottle of cognac and two glasses. ‘You were very quiet on the way home,’ she told him.
‘Was I?’ Richard settled himself on the sofa. ‘Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you.’
She looked over at him. God, he looked tired. ‘What’s the matter, darling?’ She carried the glasses over and sat down beside him.
‘Nothing.’ Smiling, he put his hand on her knee.
‘Yes, there is.’ Lizzie frowned, trying to think what could have happened to upset him. ‘Did Quentin say something stupid?’
‘A great many things,’ Richard laughed. ‘But I wasn’t thinking about Quentin.’
She waited. With a sigh, he removed the brandy balloon from her hand and put it down beside his own on the coffee table. ‘Lizzie,’ Richard took her hand in both of his, ‘is there something you need to tell me?’
She hesitated. Well, yes, there was. But, right now? It didn’t seem like the time. Then again, it never felt like the time — that was the trouble. She shook her head.
Richard’s thumb stroked her cheek. Very gently, he lifted her chin. Lizzie’s eyes slid away. He brushed an escaped strand of hair back behind her ear, his hand lingering there. Then he kissed her forehead. ‘Goodnight.’
Goodnight? ‘But you haven’t finished your brandy.’ He hadn’t started it, in fact.
Richard stood up. ‘I’m done in. Jetlag must be catching up with me at last.’
‘Oh.’ Lizzie looked up at him in surprise. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘Lizzie, my love.’ Bending down again, he raised her hand to his lips. ‘Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.’
Chapter SIX
‘You’re not seriously going back on the shoot today?’
‘Not to work.’ Ella smiled at her mother’s incredulous face. ‘But Carr said I could come along for the ride if I wanted to, and — well, what else was I going to do today?’ She felt a sudden stab of guilt. ‘You didn’t have something planned, did you?’
Lizzie looked flummoxed. ‘Carr said?’
‘Carr Fergusson.’ Ella took a bit of her toast. ‘You met him last night, remember?’
‘What’s he got to do with it?’
‘He flies the helicopter, Mum,’ Ella sighed. ‘Keep up.’
‘He’s the pilot?’ Lizzie put down her buttering knife.
‘Uh-huh.’ Ella helped herself to another slice. ‘I mentioned to him last night that I hadn’t seen much on the flight yesterday, so he said if I wanted to come up today he’d show me around a bit when he’d dropped the others off.’
‘Oh, did he just.’
Ella rolled her eyes. ‘Come on, Mum. Not like that. He’s not some sleazy television guy.’
‘Really? I’m sure Richard and Seb — not to mention your father — will be very pleased to hear that,’ Lizzie snapped.
Ella looked at her in surprise. ‘You know what I mean.’ Boy, her mother had gotten up on the wrong side of bed this morning. ‘Carr’s a nice guy.’
‘He’s a cowboy, if you ask me.’
‘A cowboy? Really?’ She couldn’t help but smile. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘Is he even a proper pilot? Do you know?’
‘Well, he flies for Mountain Rescue,’ said Ella, ‘so I’m thinking he probably is.’
Her mother turned away, busying herself with the coffee machine.
‘So is it okay,’ she soothed, as Lizzie turned back, ‘if I go?’
At last, Lizzie smiled. ‘Yes, of course it is, if that’s what you want. Anyway, I can hardly stop you, can I?’
‘Thanks, Mum.’ Ella grinned. ‘Um, do you think you could pass me my crutches?’
Shaking her head, Lizzie handed them over. ‘And I suppose you’ll be wanting my car all day. Are you sure you can drive?’
‘It’s my left foot, Mum. I can drive an automatic.’ Picking up her plate, Ella hopped to the dishwasher. ‘But anyway, no — thank you very much — I don’t need your car. I’m getting a lift.’
‘A lift? From here? Who with?’
An unmistakeable noise broke the morning air.
‘That’ll be him now.’ Ella raised her voice over the growing racket of the rotors.
‘Jesus!’ Her mother’s face paled. ‘If that bloody man rips the leaves off my grapes …’
Shit — she hadn’t thought of that. ‘Gotta go, Mum.’ Ella hurried to the door. ‘I’ll call you when we’re heading home.’
‘You mean he’s going to do this again?’
‘Sorry, Mum.’ Ella turned in the doorway, biting her lip.
‘Go!’ Lizzie told her. ‘Go!’
‘Mum’s a bit worried about her grapes,’ Ella yelled, as Carr helped her into the front passenger seat.
‘Yeah,’ Carr grinned. ‘They might rattle a bit,
but they won’t blow off. Not from this distance, anyway.’ He closed her door and took his own seat. ‘Does she worry a lot?’ he asked, once Ella had put her headset on. ‘Your mother, I mean.’
‘No,’ she said, surprised. ‘She doesn’t. Not usually.’
‘No, I didn’t think so.’ He leaned over to check her safety belt. ‘I guess she doesn’t trust me.’
Ella was silent. Carr eased the helicopter up into the perfect blue sky. She watched the vineyard fall away below them. ‘So, where are we headed today?’
‘Black Peak.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Ella smiled. ‘But which bit?’
Carr smiled back. ‘The peak itself.’ He pointed. ‘That one there. That’s the mountain the place is named after. It’s the highest point on the station.’
‘You’re going to land on top of that?’ Ella peered at the jagged hunk of rock looming up ahead.
‘On top? No. Not much room for a chopper up there.’ He veered right, skirting the flanks of the mountains. ‘Actually, I’m not landing at all. There’s a spot below the peak where I can get close enough to get Flavia’s crew and their gear out, then we’re out of there.’
‘What? You mean they’ll have to jump?’
‘Not very far.’ Carr sounded almost hurt. ‘I’ll get one skid down.’
Ella wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or disappointed she was going to miss that. She watched the tussock flatten under the force of the rotor blades as they crossed the ridge into the Blackpeak Valley.
Carr touched down on the homestead’s lawn and cut the rotors. Quentin and the crew were already waiting.
‘You might as well stay there,’ Carr told her, coming around to open her door.
‘Ciao!’ Vito sauntered down, smiling into her eyes. He kissed her on both cheeks, then touched the red mark his stubble had made. ‘Sorry.’
‘That’s okay.’ Ella ran her fingers over his unshaven face. ‘What’s with this?’
‘Flavia wanted to try me rougher.’
Oh my … Ella tried not to giggle. Looking at him, she could see Flavia’s point. He looked rough in all the right ways, dark and edgy and raw and desperately, achingly sexy. Fascinated, she stroked his spiky jawline again. Ouch. Okay, maybe that wasn’t so good, but …
