by Julie Caplin
‘Yes, what is for dinner?’ asked Lucy leaving Hekla to peruse the menu. She had every confidence that it would be absolutely delicious. Kristjan had had a lovely few weeks visiting local suppliers and researching other restaurants and with so much to do in the hotel, she’d left him to it.
‘Smoked salmon terrine, Angus beef with a potato and turnip rosti, my homage to neeps and tatties, glazed carrots, followed by a plate of local cheeses.’ His eyes brightened. ‘You have to try this chilli cheddar from the Isle of Mull.’ He put his fingers to his mouth and mimed a chef’s kiss. ‘I shall be serving at seven-thirty unless Alex’s plane is delayed.’
Lucy crossed her fingers and held them up. ‘The last time I checked it was right on schedule. And on that note, I’ve got an hour to go and get ready and that nice new roll top bath in the Balmoral suite needs a road test.’
‘I’m sure the mattress will be getting one later, too,’ said Hekla.
Lucy blushed. Spending time with her Icelandic girlfriends had made her a little more open about sex but you didn’t need to share too much information.
‘Once we have paying guests, we’ll all be up in the attics,’ she said ignoring the ribald comment. Thankfully there was plenty of staff accommodation in the old servants’ quarters at the top of the building, room enough for all the staff that had insisted on coming with her.
‘Enjoy the bath,’ said Hekla. ‘I’m going to have a quick drink in the pub with Brynja and Dagur. We’ll see you later. Don’t work too hard Kristjan,’ she teased patting him on the arm.
‘I won’t, but we don’t have a bus boy yet, so you’re on washing up duty.’
Hekla laughed. ‘It will be worth it.’
‘Where are you off to, the Kilderkin?’ asked Lucy with a knowing tilt of her head.
‘I might be,’ said Hekla demurely. ‘The beer is very good.’
‘Cheap and the barman is rather handsome I recall and partial to tall, Icelandic blondes.’
Hekla allowed herself a small smug smile as Kristjan glowered. ‘I get served first.’ She shot the chef a naughty smile. ‘But I’m partial to Icelandic men.’
‘Honey, I’m home.’
Lucy sat up quickly, drawing her knees to her chest, sloshing water over the side of the bath as she heard the thud of an overnight bag drop onto the new carpet in the other room.
‘Alex?’
He peeped his head around the bathroom door. ‘Expecting someone else?’ He grinned at her and sauntered over, sinking beside the bath on his knees, and wrapping an arm around her to pull her in for a long, slow thoroughly satisfying kiss.
‘You’re early,’ she said beaming with pleasure.
‘I caught the earlier plane, although I’d say I’ve arrived at exactly the right time. Nice bath. Room for a small one in there.’
‘I’m not looking for a small one,’ she quipped, her eyes dancing as she watched him strip off without any hesitation or modesty, her knees still clutched to her chest.
‘Just as well. Scoot up.’ He hopped in the bath, behind her, pulling her back as she twisted to lie on his chest. ‘Now this is the perfect way to start a Friday night after a hard week in Paris. How’s your week been?’
She giggled as he began to kiss her, his hands sliding down to cup her bottom.
In between kisses and caresses, they caught up with each other’s news despite the fact they spoke every night on the phone. It became increasingly difficult to talk as she became more and more breathless in response to Alex’s busy hands.
Finally, he sighed into her ear, his lips nuzzling her neck as his fingers took shameless advantage. ‘Lovely as this bath is, it’s not quite right for what I’ve got in mind.’
‘Mmm,’ was all she could say, her mind had turned into delightful mush and she knew exactly what he had in mind when he stood up, the water running down his hair slicked legs and a certain part of his anatomy primed for action.
They were only a few minutes late for dinner, although Alex’s hair was still damp and Lucy had to spend quite some time teasing out the tangles in hers. Looking pink and flushed, she held Alex’s hand as they walked down the rather wonderful sweeping staircase exchanging secretive smiles.
‘They’re going to know what we’ve been doing,’ whispered Lucy, nibbling at her lip.
‘Of course, they are, and you know they’re going to take the piss. We don’t stand a chance. But don’t forget,’ he grinned at her, ‘you’re the boss, Lucy Smart. Threaten to dock their pay.’ He winked.
She took a breath, knowing the comments would make her blush, and crossed into the dining room, rolling her eyes as a ribald cheer went up. Seated around a round table, sat Kristjan, Dagur, Brynja, Gunnar, Kristin, and Hekla and…
‘Elin!’ Lucy threw her arms around her. ‘When did you get here?’
‘I met Alex at the airport, we shared a taxi.’
She shot him a glance. ‘You didn’t tell me,’ she pouted in a most un-Lucy like way.
‘I got side-tracked.’ He raised his eyebrows.
‘Oh, this is lovely,’ said Lucy forgiving him. ‘Everyone’s here.’
‘Yes. Nice of you to join us at last,’ said Brynja with a quick wink.
‘I was checking out the new plumbing,’ said Lucy, immediately regretting her choice of words. Luckily for once Hekla’s colloquial command of English failed her. Alex ducked his head but she could see his shoulders shaking.
‘How is the new bath?’ asked Hekla.
Lucy smiled. ‘Very satisfactory. How was your Scotsman?’
Hekla raised a glass. ‘Very Scottish. He poured me lots of beer. I like Scotland a lot.’ Everyone laughed. ‘I’m so glad we came. And I still like Kristjan more.’
Kristjan smirked as he poured Lucy a glass of wine and handed it over. She took it and paused standing before the last empty chair.
‘As we’re all here together, I want to make a toast. To all of you, for trusting me and coming to share this new adventure. It,’ she looked at each of them in turn, her gaze coming to rest on Alex’s last, ‘really means so much to me. This place … it’s lovely but you’re the people that will make the difference. That will make it cosy and welcoming. I’m sure The Northern Holyrood Lodge is going to be a great success, because of all of you. Thanks for putting your faith in me.’
She raised her glass, as her friends all raised theirs in tandem. She was among friends and she knew without a doubt she could trust every last one of them. Alex winked at her and mouthed. I love you.
Kristjan jumped to his feet and raised his glass, ‘To you, Lucy Brynsdóttir,’ and everyone repeated his words, which just about finished Lucy off.
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Acknowledgements
This bit of writing a book is possibly my favourite, the writer’s equivalent of an Oscar’s speech, where you get to thank all the people who have helped whether they knew it or not.
First up, is my pal, Debi Game, who inadvertently put the idea into my head of removing things from someone who wasn’t supposed to have them in the first place, resulting in the delicious consequence that they couldn’t complain that they’d been removed.
Thanks to all my writerly friends who offer endless support and encouragement, both in real life and across the ether, particularly Donna Ashcroft, the lovely Darcie Boleyn and Sarah Bennett as well as my much loved agent, Broo Doherty, a saint who puts up with my author’s angst with endless patience.
Gin helps enormously when you’re on a deadline, and I’m fortunate that my husband is always ready to swoop to the rescue with a glass and that my children have developed the sterling ability to know when mum needs leaving be.
Last but not least, you, the readers who send me such lovely comments, leave kind reviews and keep buying my books. Thank you for enabling me to be a writer.
Julie Caplin is addicted to travel and good food. She�
��s on a constant hunt for the perfect gin and is obsessively picky about glasses, tonic and garnishes. Between regular gin tastings, she’s been writing her debut novel which is set in just one of the many cities she’s explored over the years.
Formerly a PR director, for many years she swanned around Europe taking top food and drink writers on press trips (junkets) sampling the gastronomic delights of various cities in Italy, France, Belgium, Spain, Copenhagen and Switzerland. It was a tough job but someone had to do it. These trips have provided the inspiration and settings for the trilogy, The Little Cafe in Copenhagen, The Little Brooklyn Bakery and The Little Paris Patisserie.
@JulieCaplin
www.facebook.com/JulieCaplinAuthor
About HarperImpulse
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Writers, our vision is to publish the very best in digital-first commercial women’s fiction and we are simply looking for good stories! So, what are you waiting for? To submit, e-mail us at [email protected].
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