She stared at him, incredulous. ‘This is...’
‘Sensible. Fun, too. More silver lining.’
‘But why are you doing it? You don’t need to feel guilty for what your uncle did.’
‘I don’t. I’m doing this because I want to. Yes, I feel bad about the way Thomas treated you, and that you’ve been having such a bad time even before his scam, but I’m doing this because it sounds fun. Charlie, if you stay miserable then you’ve been robbed of far more than money and pride. Don’t let the toe-rag win.’
He hesitated, then motioned to the pile of stacked wood on the far side of the driveway, all that was left now of the towering gum. ‘When lightning hit that tree I was within a hair’s breadth of being pancaked, but if I’d been pancaked I would have been pancaked in an Italian supercar. That’s because at the end of this dreary week, when the sensible course would have been to drive back to Melbourne with my lawyers, I thought dammit! This car was leased in my name and how many chances would I ever have to drive such a beast?’ He hesitated again and then forged on. ‘I guess...that’s what my sister’s death taught me. That tomorrow mightn’t come. So... How many chances will I ever have to take seven dogs and two cows and one Charlie back to my estate and find them all homes?’
‘Estate...’
‘Every man’s home is a castle,’ he said grandly.
‘You’re not finding me a home.’
‘Don’t mess with my fantasy.’ He grinned. ‘Or it might not be fantasy. I could ask Mum to put you in the newspaper, too. One fabulous interior designer, slightly dog-stained but very, very beautiful...’
‘Don’t...’
‘Okay, we’ll cut the beautiful. The picture will be worth a thousand words.’
‘My home’s here. I mean...in Melbourne.’
‘Of course it is,’ he said, gently now, his smile fading. ‘I know that. But for the next few weeks... Seeing a bit of England. Finding the perfect home for seven dogs...’
‘It’s crazy to go all the way to England to find homes for seven dogs.’
‘Crazy but fun. Wouldn’t it be fun, Charlie?’
She was looking at him as if he were a sandwich short of a picnic. ‘But to say you’ll keep them all...’
‘That’s a fall-back position but it’s still no big deal. My mother will love them and so will I.’
‘She sounds...’
‘Fun.’ He was repeating the word but it seemed important. ‘Despite her shadows, she’s incorrigible. Charlie, come home with me and meet her.’
‘But...’
‘No buts. Just come.’
She stared at him in the moonlight, totally bemused. ‘You’re crazy,’ she said at last.
‘Granted.’ His smile came back. ‘But what’s the alternative? Are you committed to work as soon as you leave this place?’
‘I...no. I need...to find a new apartment. So much...’
‘Right,’ he said, moving on. ‘What’s a couple more weeks, then? And what’s the alternative, Charlie bach?’
‘What...? Charlie bach? You called me that before. What does it mean?’
‘Charlie dear.’
‘You’re kidding. Don’t call me that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it makes me feel...it makes me feel like I don’t want to feel.’
She was looking straight at him, her eyes wide in the moonlight. There was a long silence. Things were changing. Massive things.
He didn’t do relationships. He didn’t.
This though...the way she made him feel...
‘Does it make you feel like you’d like to be kissed?’ he asked, and it felt as if the world had stopped and was waiting for her answer.
She closed her eyes and he watched as she took a deep breath and then another. The world held its breath.
Something changed in her face. Twisted. Cracked.
Something in the whole night changed.
And finally she answered. One word.
‘Yes.’
Yes. One word to change the world? For this night, it was the only word he needed.
He took her face between his hands and drew her gently, slowly, infinitely tenderly towards him.
He smiled down into her face, drawing out the moment, because something inside him told him this was important. This seemed precious, fragile, something that mustn’t be rushed.
‘Charlie, you realise this can’t be like our kiss in the bog after rescuing Cordelia?’ he said softly. ‘That was an adrenalin rush, great but unplanned and you didn’t know me. This time, you need to trust. So... Are you sure, Charlotte Foster?’
He’d had to ask. This was her home, he was an uninvited guest and she was alone and he wouldn’t, he couldn’t press. But trust... It was a huge ask.
But her answer was ready.
‘I’m sure,’ she whispered and she opened her eyes and smiled. ‘You kiss me or I kiss you,’ she whispered. ‘Either way, Bryn Morgan, let’s do it.’
* * *
He’d kissed women before. Of course he had. His mother had had potential brides lined up from the moment he’d hit his teens. Maybe even earlier.
But he was thirty-five years old and he’d never felt a kiss like this.
It felt right.
It felt as if his heart was being given right then and there.
The warmth, the heat, the wanting...
She moulded to him, with Flossie squashed somewhere between. It wasn’t Flossie’s heartbeat he was feeling, though. It was all Charlie’s, and it felt as if their heartbeats merged in that moment.
Becoming one?
It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense, but right now who was trying for sense? Every nerve ending was focussed on one kiss. There was no yesterday, no tomorrow, no thought of anything beyond this moment, because right now, right at this moment, his world was changing.
Bryn Morgan, Lord Carlisle, Baron of Ballystone Hall, had always considered Ballystone was his home.
It wasn’t.
His home was suddenly...here.
* * *
What was she doing? She didn’t trust. She couldn’t.
Okay, she didn’t, but for now her world was on hold. She could stop trusting again in the morning. For now all that mattered was that Bryn was holding her. The fears, the distress, the weariness had disappeared. She wanted nothing but this man.
The kiss filled something deep inside, an aching void she scarcely knew she had. To draw away was impossible. It’d be like drawing away from life itself.
She felt herself melt into him and her body reacted with joy.
It was dangerous. She’d been down this road.
No, she hadn’t, her body told her. She’d never felt like this. And what danger was there in melting? She was a grown woman. She’d take this one night...
So when he put her away from him, just a little, when he smiled down at her, his eyes dark with passion, with tenderness, with desire, when he said, ‘Charlie, if we’re to stop, we need to stop now. I want you more...’
‘You can’t want me more than I want you,’ she said simply and put her hands on his face and drew him back to her. He’d take her to his bed, she thought, or her bed, although seven dogs might mess with even the most passionate lovemaking. And then a thought. ‘Bryn, we don’t have...’
‘I believe I do,’ he said, and his voice was different, husky, as if he wasn’t so sure of himself. But the smile was still there, and the tenderness and...the need. ‘I’ve sawed the car free and also freed my toiletries. Charlie, I’m thirty-five years old and single. My bag’s ever hopeful.’ He touched her lips. ‘But this isn’t hopeful. This is...different. Charlie, are you sure?’
And there was only one answer. This wasn’t a dream because she already knew it would happen, and her body was reacting with joy
.
Trust didn’t matter, she decided, at least it didn’t matter for now. Trust was for tomorrow. Tonight was for a man and a woman and nothing else.
‘Yes, Bryn, I’m sure,’ she whispered, and tonight started right now.
* * *
She woke in the small hours, when dawn was drifting in through the open window. She lay in Bryn’s arms and she felt...loved.
It was illusory, she thought. It had to be illusory because she was a big girl now and she knew how the world worked. Trust was what you did before the world fell apart.
But her world had already fallen apart, so what the heck? She could lie here cradled in this man’s arms, skin against skin, feeling loved, protected, desired.
She could let herself pretend.
And when he stirred and woke and smiled sleepily at her, with passion already kindling behind that gorgeous smile, when he said: ‘So what do you think, Charlie love? Will you trust me enough to come home with me? With your dogs and your cows and...you?’
When he smiled at her in such a way, she thought how could trusting hurt her any further? A couple of weeks with Bryn in England? Letting him in some way compensate for his uncle’s scam? He didn’t need to. The plan seemed crazy, but if he could afford it, what did she have to lose?
She could lose her heart, a small voice whispered, but she blocked it out. Which was really hard to do when he was smiling at her in such a way...
It’s just for two weeks, she told herself, striving desperately for sensible. She’d be simply giving herself time out and in the process giving Grandma’s animals their only chance of good homes.
And what was her alternative? She was facing eviction from her studio. She needed to find a job, pick up the pieces of her life, but two weeks wouldn’t make a difference.
And if a part of her...a really big part...was saying two weeks’ time out, time away from here, time exploring his farm, time seeing the real Bryn...
Well, that was a dangerous thing to think. That scared her, but at her heart she knew she wasn’t sensible at all. A sliver of light had entered her bleak world.
The sliver was hope.
But he was waiting for an answer. Waiting to smile at her again. Waiting to take her back into his arms and show her...how joy felt.
So what was a woman to say?
Will you trust me enough to come home with me?
‘Yes,’ she whispered as she sank back into his arms. ‘Yes, I believe I will.’
* * *
He was taking Charlie home for two weeks.
Two weeks only.
There was a part of him, a huge part, that was hoping it’d be for more.
But one step at a time, he told himself over the next few days. She didn’t trust and why should she? There was the whole thing about his title. He should tell her now, but he knew instinctively that it’d be asking too much to put that on her. Not now. Once she found out... Well, the airfare was flexible. If she hated what he was—as he still hated it—she could always return, or use her ticket to see a little more of England. She’d see her animals safe. They could both move on.
What was it about her that made him feel bleak at the thought?
He thought of his mother. She’d reacted with almost ludicrous excitement when he’d told her he was bringing Charlie for two weeks.
‘It’s only for a holiday, Mum. Thomas has cheated her and we can help. She needs to see her animals resettled.’
‘But you like her?’
‘Of course...’
And that was enough for Alice, carried away in extravagant hope.
Hope was extravagant, he thought. How could two weeks change something so deeply embedded into him, the fact that he walked alone?
But a part of him was questioning already, before his mother even asked the question.
Had his wall of loneliness already been breached?
* * *
There were formalities to be sorted before Charlie, seven dogs and two cows could travel. The bank was due to take possession of the farm in about three and a half weeks. She could leave then. Bryn, though, had to leave earlier. There were legalities from Thomas’s scam that needed to be cleared and he needed to be home to do it.
But he did manage to spend four more days with her, and those days seemed to change him. Those days had him thinking the nightmare of his past might be something he could finally put away. It was too soon to say—of course it was—but each day he spent with her his life seemed lighter.
They worked side by side, sorting the detritus of her grandma’s belongings, clearing the remainder of the mess of the tree, cooking, laughing, loving. And as the days wore on, the more taking her back to the UK seemed the most important thing he’d ever worked for.
And yet, he couldn’t tell her how important it was. He knew her trust was fragile. This woman had been betrayed. Even as they made love he could see the questions. When would this end?
When he told her he was the Lord Carlisle of the glossy brochures? When he finally revealed the title he loathed? He wasn’t courageous enough—or stupid enough—to reveal that yet. He could only hope that when she reached Ballystone, she’d see for herself that Thomas’s lie was his reality. That underneath the title and the wealth, he was simply a farmer she could trust.
For now he had to focus on practicalities.
Practicalities revealed problems. It seemed dogs could only be imported as pets, with a limit of four dogs per person. After a call to his lawyers it seemed easier to declare they were his dogs and his mother’s, that he and his mother had bought them from Charlie and wished to import them to their new home. Charlie would simply be escorting them. That declaration involved more trust, and it seemed a major step when Charlie agreed.
There was another hitch. He was faced with a form declaring he and his mother had no intention of selling or disposing of the dogs. After reflection, there seemed no problem. He had many tenant farmers, and it’d take little organising to find them good homes on the estate. As a last resort, the dog pack at the Hall would simply expand.
He couldn’t talk to Charlie about that, either. Telling her about his tenant farmers meant she’d have to know about his title. The prospect kept drumming through his head. How would she react?
As if it didn’t matter, he told himself, but it was a plea inside his head. Please let her not care about titles. Yes, it’d be a shock when she reached Ballystone, but surely once there she’d see the estate for what it was, big, a bit ramshackle, a bit overwhelming but underneath...home? And even if she reacted with disgust, she’d have her return ticket. She’d have her holiday and her animals would be safe.
He had to shut up and hope. He wasn’t risking her pulling back now, because every morning he knew he wanted her more. Leaving her, hoping she’d follow, was almost more than he could bear.
And it seemed she felt the same. ‘I can’t bear you to go,’ she whispered on that last morning. ‘This seems like a fantasy. I’ll wake to reality.’
‘You’ll wake in England, with seven dogs, two cows and me. If that’s reality...is that so bad?’
‘Something will happen. You won’t be there. You’ll turn to dust?’ She managed a slightly shame-faced smile. ‘I know. You’re real and you’ve been wonderful and, Bryn, despite everything that’s happened, this has been one of the best weeks of my life. But happiness doesn’t last.’
‘Yes, it does,’ he said resolutely. ‘It must.’
‘When your family died...’
‘Mum and I both thought our world had ended,’ he told her. ‘And so it had. It was the end of that world. But here I am, lying with a woman called Charlie in my arms and I’m thinking...a whole new world is ours for the taking. You want to join me in this brave new world, my Charlie?’
‘It’s only for two weeks,’ she whispered, still fearful. ‘It’s...just a h
oliday.’
‘So it is.’
‘But I still can’t believe it’s real. Bryn... Just hold me for a while before you go. Let me have a few more moments believing this will happen.’
He held her and hoped she believed.
He wasn’t sure that either of them did.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HE LEFT, AND what followed was three long weeks of waiting. They video-called and he worried as he saw her face, etched with the strain of packing, doubt that she was doing the right thing. Finally, though, she was in the air and he was driving to London to collect her.
The dogs were arriving on a later plane. The logistics of transporting seven dogs had been a nightmare. His mother was officially importing three dogs and Bryn was importing four. ‘Tell me why I’m adopting three dogs?’ his mother had asked faintly, and she’d watched in bemusement as he’d made a hash of trying to explain. She was confused? He felt the same.
But it was happening. The dogs would arrive three days later. That’d give Charlie time to find her feet.
Or get cold feet and turn and run before they even left Australia?
The finalising of dog flights had been Charlie’s doing. He wondered if there really had been no room on her flight, or if the delay had been deliberate. Was she giving herself time to check him out first—was he who he said he was? Was his offer real?
She couldn’t completely trust, he thought, not where her grandmother’s animals were concerned.
For her to trust...
Maybe he should have told her...
But it was too late now. He was in the arrival hall, watching as each passenger emerged from the customs hall. The place was packed with excited relatives and friends. There were balloons, flowers, emotion...
He hadn’t brought flowers or balloons, but emotion was there in plenty. That she’d trust to come all this way...
English Lord on Her Doorstep Page 11
