Bluebell's Christmas Magic: A perfect and heart-warming cosy Christmas romance for 2019
Page 15
She lifted the shopping bag with Salomé’s bakery logo on. ‘I thought I would surprise you with breakfast to celebrate getting my van back at last, and I bought cinnamon buns from Salomé’s. I’ll put the shopping away and make you some coffee.’
He walked slowly down the stairs and stopped halfway. The grey morning light filtered through the stained glass insert on the front door and shone directly on his face, turning his eyes a bright, and very cold, gold.
‘Leave the bags. I’ll sort out the shopping later, and don’t bother locking the front door behind you. I’m going out soon.’
He turned round and walked back up, leaving her holding the bag of pastries, and feeling thoroughly dismissed, and a complete fool.
Chapter Nineteen
He wasn’t sure how long he could stand so he gritted his teeth against the pain and attempted to walk back up the stairs. It had been stupid to push his body so hard these past few days. He may have wanted to banish the ghost of Vaillant’s hopelessness and despair – and his own ghosts and inadequacies too, but he was paying the price now.
He fully expected Cassie to slam the door as she left. That was why he had been so rude after all.
Instead her voice rang behind him. ‘I’m not going anywhere until I have tidied the house, done the dusting and vacuum cleaning and prepared a hot meal for you. If you don’t want any breakfast, then I won’t make you any coffee and I’ll leave the buns in the kitchen for you to eat later.’
Why couldn’t she leave him alone?
Very slowly because his back was killing him, he turned to face her. ‘The house doesn’t need tidying every day, and you can forget about the cooking because I’m planning to eat out again today,’ he lied.
She still didn’t move, but stared at him, frowning. He clearly hadn’t been obnoxious enough. ‘Damn it, Cassie, surely it’s not that hard to understand that I want to be on my own and don’t need you buzzing around with your cleaning spray and your feather duster every bloody day.’
Suddenly his back seized up and the pain was too much to bear. With a gasp, he grabbed hold of the banister, gripped the wooden handrail hard and slowly lowered himself onto a step.
Cassie leapt up the stairs, knelt down in front of him, and put a hand on his knee. ‘Stefan… What’s wrong? Do you need a doctor? Is it your back again? Wait… I’ll get a cushion for you to lean against.’
It reminded him of the way she had fluttered around her grandfather and pushed a cushion behind his back at Patterdale Farm.
‘I don’t need a bloody cushion. I must have pulled a muscle when I was training, that’s all.’ He tried to sound dismissive but his voice came out weak and hoarse.
She moved up one step to sit right next to him. Her hand slid up and down his thigh as if he was a child who needed comforting. But he wasn’t a child and far from comforting him, her caresses were having an altogether different effect. Did she even realise what she was doing? Perhaps he should be glad. At least focussing on keeping his body in check took his mind off the pain clawing at his back.
‘Can I help? Tell me where it hurts,’ she said in a soothing voice, rubbing and patting his thigh in turns.
‘It’s not my leg but my back that’s the problem,’ he muttered between clenched teeth.
She leant closer, so close her lemony fragrance filled his senses, wisps of silky blonde hair tickled his cheek and her breasts pushed against his arm. He pulled away slightly to gaze into her limpid grey eyes. Today they were the colour of rain clouds.
The pain bit into him again and he drew in a sharp breath. How long was she going to sit next to him, stroking him and her face a picture of kindness and concern? As if it wasn’t embarrassing enough that he couldn’t even stand, he started shivering. The only burning sensations in his body were those triggered by the pain and by the rubbing and stroking of her hand on his thigh.
He leant away but she shuffled close again. ‘Tell me what I can do to make you feel better.’
That was easy, he almost replied. She could leave her hand exactly where it was, or move it a tad higher. It was proving a great distraction against the pain… He ground his teeth. ‘If you really want to make yourself useful, bring me my painkillers. They’re on the bedside table in my room.’
‘Sure.’ She jumped to her feet and ran upstairs, and was back in no time with the box of extra strong painkillers he kept for emergencies and a glass of water.
He gulped two tablets down. A long minute passed then a couple more. The spasms in his back subsided at last, and the pain was down to a manageable level.
‘I’m all right now,’ he said at last.
She let out a sigh of relief, and put her hand against her heart. ‘Good. You gave me such a fright. You were so pale I thought you were going to pass out. Now let me help you into the drawing room. You can lie on the sofa and put your feet up whilst I make you some coffee.’
She slipped her hand under his elbow to help him stand up.
‘There’s no need to fuss. I said I was all right.’ He disentangled himself from her grasp, walked down the rest of the stairs and picked up her shopping bags. He’d be damned if he let her carry them to the kitchen. He hated having her do jobs for him.
She, however, had other ideas, and tried to snatch one bag from him. He stepped back, out of her reach.
‘You shouldn’t lift or carry anything or you’ll hurt your back again,’ she protested.
‘A few bags aren’t going to make much difference.’ He took the bags to the kitchen, put them on the table and proceeded to take the shopping out. Now that his backache had eased off, he had to do something – anything – to cool the fire her caresses had inadvertently started in another part of his anatomy.
He held out a couple of tins. ‘Where do you want these?’
This time he wasn’t quick enough, and she managed to wrestle a tin of baked beans from his hands.
‘I’ll do it. Now do as I say and sit down, or…’ Her tone was fierce, and her eyes even fiercer. Even though the top of her head only reached up to his shoulder she held the tin of beans up in the air like a weapon.
Tension suddenly uncoiled and loosened inside him. He had to see the comic side of the situation. This five foot one – five foot two at most – woman was prepared to beat him up with a tin of beans if he didn’t do as she said.
‘Or what?’ He smiled and pointed at the tin she was still gripping tightly. ‘Will you smash it against my skull? That would be a way to help me forget my backache.’
Her cheeks blushed deep pink and she dropped the tin down on the table. ‘Sorry… I don’t want you to be in pain again, that’s all. Why don’t you sit down while I unpack?’
He crossed his arms on his chest. ‘Only if you have breakfast with me. I’m not used to being waited on. And don’t tell me you’re only doing your job.’
She sighed. ‘All right, then. I haven’t had any breakfast, and I would have to be mad to turn down one of Salomé’s pastries.’
As soon as she had put away the tins, jars and various items of groceries she had brought, Cassie switched the oven on and made the coffee while he sat there watching and feeling pretty useless. By the time the coffee had percolated, and she took the cinnamon buns out of the oven, the pain in his back had died down and he felt ravenous. She poured two cups and handed him one whilst he slathered butter on two of the cinnamon buns and started eating.
‘They’re good.’ He poured another cup of coffee and cradled the mug in his hands as he reclined in his chair.
Cassie licked the sugar off her fingers. ‘Salomé won a competition on the television three years ago, you know, and bought the little bakery in the village a few months later with some of her prize money.’
She sighed. ‘Poor Salomé. I’ve always wondered why she chose to settle here. She could have gone back to Spain where she came from, or settled in the South of England. She still isn’t used to the snow and the rain. Two years on, she still wears scarves and thermal underwea
r even in summer!’
‘Is she Spanish?’
‘She’s English, but was brought up in Spain where her parents own a restaurant. Everybody in the village loves her.’
He arched his eyebrows. ‘What about that “three-generation rule” you told me about?’
She laughed. ‘It doesn’t apply to her. I grant you, people were a bit unsure of her exotic ways at first, but she soon won them over with her lovely personality and delicious cakes… all but one, that is.’
‘Who is that?’
‘Your friend, Charles. Salomé complained that he was terribly unpleasant to her when he came for his father’s funeral last year. Having said that, the poor man probably had a lot on his mind. His father had just died in that freak accident, and he must have been upset, even if…’ She glanced up at him and bit her lip.
‘Even if…?’
‘Well, people say that the two men weren’t close.’
Stefan drank his coffee. It probably wouldn’t be too much of a betrayal of his friend’s confidence to explain the rift between Charlie and his father.
‘Charlie has devoted his life to Inter Medics, but his father believed that charity work wasn’t in keeping with the family’s standing in society. Now that I’m here, I can understand why.’ He looked around. ‘This house. The old abbey. The land. I knew Charlie’s family was well off, but I had no idea they owned all this. He used to describe Belthorn as a decrepit old family house in the middle of nowhere.’
She smiled. ‘Personally, I would agree. I’ve always found this place gloomy and horrid.’
Perhaps this was his chance to satisfy his curiosity and find out why she seemed so scared of the place. ‘What happened to make you dislike Belthorn so much?’
Cassie’s smiled vanished. It was as if the sunshine had been sucked out of the kitchen window and a black cloud had crept inside. She pushed her chair back so abruptly it scraped against the tiled floor as she got up to collect the empty plates and cups and piled them up into the sink.
‘I’ll tell you some other time, perhaps.’ But her tone implied that she had no intention of ever talking about it. Turning the hot water tap on, she squirted some washing-up liquid into the water and proceeded to wash-up.
‘I haven’t had my joke today,’ he said, trying to lighten the mood.
She turned round, dried her hands and rummaged inside her handbag. ‘Sorry. There you are,’ she said, handing him a Post-it note. ‘It’s another winter joke, courtesy of my granddad. Perhaps not his best one, but I’ll let you be the judge.’
Their fingers brushed as she handed him the note. ‘What did the policeman say to the ice lolly thief?’ he read. He turned the paper over. ‘Freeze!’ He smiled. ‘That’s funny.’
She smiled back, and the cute dimples reappeared on her cheeks. ‘If you think so then you’ll have to come to Comedy Night at the Eagle and Child on the Friday before Christmas. I have the feeling the competition is going to be a lot tougher for my granddad this year, and that people may be getting tired of his old-fashioned jokes.’
He remembered what Mason had said. Comedy Night was in aid of a good cause – a cause close to his heart, since all proceeds went to the Mountain Rescue and the Air Ambulance teams.
‘All right. I’ll come.’
‘Really? That’s great!’ She sounded surprised but sincere, although why she should be happy about him coming was a mystery to him. He must be her most disagreeable client – not to mention her ugliest one.
She walked to the fridge, opened the door and started pulling some meat and vegetables out. ‘I’ll prepare a casserole that you can warm up for your tea tonight. Where are you going today?’
He’d only said he was going out because he didn’t want Cassie to stick around and see him in pain, but the truth was that he was fed up with driving around aimlessly, even if the area was breathtakingly beautiful.
He shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. I’ll see where the road takes me.’
She hesitated. ‘If you have nothing special planned, perhaps you would like to come with me to Keswick. I have to pick up some props to transform the campsite clubhouse into a jungle for Rachel’s sister’s wedding reception on Saturday, and I could do with a hand.’
He frowned. ‘A jungle?’
She let out a sigh. ‘I know. It’s crazy, isn’t it, but after months of insisting she didn’t want anything special, Kerry is now set on a Tarzan and Jane wedding… and whatever Kerry wants, Kerry must get. She’s always been a little spoilt.’
She paused and her cheeks coloured. ‘By the way, you’re invited to the reception.’
‘Invited? But I don’t know anybody.’
‘You know me and my granddad. You know Rachel, Tim and the boys too.’
‘Well, I don’t think…’
She cocked her head to one side and her eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘If you’re worried about what to wear, let me put your mind at rest. I ordered a batch of loincloths for the groom and gentlemen guests. It’s incredible what you can buy online these days.’
He swallowed hard. ‘Loincloths?’
She nodded. ‘To be in keeping with the Tarzan theme, of course… I’ll make sure the clubhouse’s heating is turned on full, so you won’t catch a cold.’ A smile played on her lips and her eyes twinkled again.
His mind went blank and all he could say was, ‘No way!’
She burst out laughing. ‘I’m only joking. I can’t believe you fell for it… although you are of course free to act up a childhood fantasy, wear a loincloth and swing from a vine ululating like Tarzan if that’s what you want. The guests might enjoy a bit of a show.’
His body hardened, and his blood pulsed in his veins. Suddenly he could think of a couple of fantasies – very much adult ones – he would like to act out with Cassie Bell right now, be it in a jungle or on a kitchen table.
‘So, are you coming – both to the wedding and to Keswick with me today?’
She was still looking at him, waiting for him to reply. He gave himself a mental shake. ‘Why not?’
He might say that he wanted to be alone, but the prospect of another drive out with only the car radio and his dark thoughts for company wasn’t inspiring. As for the wedding, he should make an effort. It would be polite to show his face, since he had been invited. He didn’t have to stay long.
Right now, however, he was going to take a very long, very cold, shower.
Chapter Twenty
‘I thought we could stop at Castlerigg before picking up my order from the crafts warehouse,’ Cassie said as she climbed onto the passenger seat of the Range Rover. ‘Are you sure you want to drive?’
‘Positive. What’s Castlerigg?’
She replied that it was an ancient stone circle – one of the largest in England. He realised he would have agreed to go anywhere she suggested, even a shopping centre, and the thought made him frown. Was he so desperate for company – or was it only Cassie’s company he craved? He brushed the uncomfortable thought aside and focussed on driving down the lane without the car skidding into the ditch.
Cassie’s phone beeped as they approached Red Moss. She took it out of her bag, and read the message on the screen.
‘Not again!’
He glanced at her. ‘Any problems?’
‘It’s Fluffy, my neighbour’s cat.’
He arched his eyebrows. ‘Don’t tell me… He’s hungry and wants you to buy a tin of sardines for his lunch.’
She laughed. ‘It’s not the cat texting me, but my next door neighbour. Apparently Fluffy sneaked into my house, and his owner is on the warpath and demands I release it straight away or she’ll call the police, the firemen and the RSPCA to break our door down and arrest me for pet kidnapping – shouldn’t that be catnapping?’
She gave him an apologetic smile. ‘Would you mind stopping at Bluebell Cottage so I can let him out and avoid being thrown into jail?’
‘Sure.’ He parked outside the cottage, and turned the engine off.
A grey-haired lady wearing a thick brown fleece and a rather scary scowl on her face strode towards them, stomping her walking stick onto the road. Cassie’s cat problems were none of his business, and the last thing he wanted was to get involved in a neighbourly dispute, but the woman did look angry, and Cassie had gone very pale, and a surge of protectiveness washed over him.
‘I’ll come with you.’
She looked relieved. ‘Thank you.’
The old woman hardly waited for them to get out of the car before shouting at Cassie. ‘You took your time, young lady. My Fluffy has been locked up in your house for hours.’
‘It’s hardly been that long, and I only just got the message.’ Cassie smiled but the woman scowled harder.
‘I know what you and your granddad are up to,’ she said, ‘and I have a mind to report you to the RSPCA and the police for cat stealing.’ She had raised her voice and punctuated every word with a whack of her walking stick against the cottage’s gate.
Cassie let out a sigh. ‘How many times must we tell you that we are not trying to steal your cat? I don’t understand how Fluffy managed to sneak in again, but I’ll let him out straight away, don’t worry.’
The woman narrowed her eyes and tapped her stick on the ground. ‘Get on with it then.’
Cassie produced a set of keys from her handbag, but in her haste to open the front door she dropped them and they clattered onto the stone flags. Stefan bent down quickly to pick them up and handed them to Cassie, who mouthed a ‘thank you’.
The woman gave him a suspicious look. ‘Who are you?’
‘A friend.’ He wanted to say a lot more. That her cat was hardly going to come to any harm at Bluebell Cottage, even if he was locked in for a few hours. That perhaps he had found a better, friendlier place to hang out. And that she need not be so unpleasant to Cassie… But that wouldn’t help the situation so he kept his mouth shut.