Then, because that had felt so good, he raised her hand to his lips, and she opened her eyes-not to react angrily, demand to know where he got off, but to look at him. Really look at him with those big brown eyes.
‘Th-thank you,’ she managed, then shivered again.
He drew her closer and she laid her head on his shoulder, and that was okay, too.
‘Better?’ he asked a few moments later, when she finally stopped shaking.
She looked up. ‘Yes, thank you.’ And her lips softened, parted in what might have been a smile, seemed much more. Need, invitation, he couldn’t have said what. He didn’t stop to analyse it, consider the consequences, but lowered his mouth to hers in something that wasn’t so much a kiss, but a kind of recognition.
Ellie felt the shock of it to her toes. The way he’d gathered her in to keep her safe. The touch of his lips on her fingers, a gesture so unexpected, so tender, that it took her breath away.
She couldn’t have said how it was she found herself pressed up close to him, her breasts crushed against his chest, her arms wound about his neck. Only that the brief brush of his firm lips against hers was like a jolt of energy, sending her pulse racing like a hundred-metre sprinter against the clock, even as it brought the world to a crashing halt around her. Made bells ring in her head…
Except that the bells weren’t in her head. It was the chiming of the doorbell, and they both drew back, as if caught out.
She stepped back. ‘The cavalry,’ she said.
‘I didn’t send for them.’
No, but he was glad they’d arrived. She could see it in his face.
‘No, I did.’ She shrugged. ‘I could see you didn’t believe me about that candle.’
‘You did ask me on a date.’
‘I didn’t!’ Then, ‘At least, I did. But not like that…’ Damn, she was blushing again, she realised. ‘No, honestly, Ben. I thought you might be more relaxed in a bigger party.’
‘How much bigger?’ he asked.
‘Just Laura. Laura Morrison. Her house backs onto this one.’
‘I know Laura.’
‘Oh, right. Well, there’s far too much food for just the two of us, anyway. She’s on her own, and I owe her for the ferns.’
‘I should have guessed that was where they came from.’
‘She was really kind to me. And she helped me with the pansies, too.’ On an impulse, she laid her folded hand against his cheek. ‘You were kind, too. You handled the spider perfectly.’
‘Any time. And by the way, Natasha wasn’t a Cordon Bleu cook. I just said that to distract you.’
‘Really?’ She looked doubtful, shook her head, then turned as Laura tapped on the kitchen door, having walked in through the mud room.
‘No one answered the door so I assumed you were in the garden.’ She nodded at Ben. ‘You’ve had a bit of excitement, I hear?’
‘Nothing to get worked up about, Aunt Laura.’
Ellie looked at Ben, then at Laura. ‘Aunt?’
‘Ben’s mother was my oldest sister. I stood for him at the font. Of course it took you to ask me to dinner, Ellie. If I’d waited for an invitation from Ben, I’d have starved.’
‘Er, right,’ she said, now totally embarrassed. ‘Actually, since I’m cooking that still might happen. Come and tell me how you think the ferns are doing while Ben gets you a drink.’
As they went outside, Ben heard her say, ‘How’s the back?’
Ellie had summoned the cavalry-but for him, not for herself. She hadn’t wanted to embarrass him, make him feel uncomfortable.
She hadn’t had a clue that Laura was his aunt, or that relations had been somewhat strained between them following her undisguised delight that Natasha had chosen New York over him.
That Laura had responded to Ellie’s invitation, prepared to risk sticking her head into the lion’s den, suggested that she liked her a great deal. A rare accomplishment; his aunt was a very difficult woman to please-as Natasha had discovered to her cost. She wasn’t used to being found wanting.
Ellie, he decided, taking a glass from the cupboard, pouring his aunt a drink and following them out into the garden, was a very unusual woman. Dizzy, irrational-it was totally irrational to fear small harmless creatures because they had too many legs-and lacking even the smallest degree of elegance. The kind of woman, in fact, that he couldn’t imagine living with. And yet he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that living without her would be extremely dull.
He tracked them down to what had once been the kitchen garden by the simple expedient of following his aunt’s carrying voice.
‘Does he still keep in touch with the stick insect?’ she was asking. He paused, hidden by the hedge. Ellie didn’t answer, and his aunt pressed. ‘Natasha?’
‘I’ve no idea, Laura.’
‘I do hope not. No woman should be that perfect. It’s a crime against nature.’ Ellie laughed, but not wholeheartedly, he thought. ‘Any man who had the misfortune to love her would always be trailing in her wake.’
‘He might be happy there.’
‘For a while. But she’d soon get bored with that, don’t you think? And, no matter how much he loved her, he’d be unhappy. A woman like that needs lovers, not a husband.’
‘I think it’s impossible for an outsider to understand what makes a marriage work.’
Laura laughed. ‘I’ve rarely been put in my place so tactfully. But you’re right. None of my business. Now, tell me about this herb garden you’re thinking of planting.’
Ben joined them, handing Laura a highball glass containing straight single malt whisky, no water, no ice.
‘Herb garden?’ he asked. ‘Is this going to involve another trip to the garden centre, Ellie?’
‘Are you prepared to take the risk?’ she asked, seizing this opportunity to change the subject. ‘If you’re holding fast about getting a dog, I might have to liberate a hamster…’
Laura’s eyebrows rose, and Ellie embarked on a description of their last visit, including the rabbit rescue mission and Ben’s heroic construction of the run, embellishing every little incident until his aunt was laughing so much that he had to rescue her drink.
Ellie grinned at him, then with a yelp exclaimed, ‘The chicken!’ and ran for the kitchen.
Laura glanced at him. ‘That was fun.’
‘Yes.’
‘Come on,’ she said, taking his arm. ‘Let’s go and see if she’s managed to rescue dinner.’
Ellie had caught it just in time. At least she thought she had. She removed the chicken from the pan, added honey to the onions with a little more liquid. Tasted it.
‘Does that taste burned to you?’ she asked, offering Laura some of the sauce on a spoon.
‘Add a drop of brandy. That fixes anything.’
‘It
‘It’s fine, really. Caramel is supposed to have that flavour.’
‘Really?’ She tried it again. The brandy Ben had sloshed in certainly gave it a kick.
An hour later they sat back, grinning. ‘Not bad, Ellie,’ Ben said. ‘And next time you won’t have as many distractions.’
‘You’re doing this again?’ Laura asked. ‘Can I come?’
‘We were guinea pigs, Aunt Laura. Ellie is going to cook this for her sister’s birthday.’
Laura glanced at her. ‘You have a sister?’
‘Stacey. Fortunately for my parents she’s not like me. Being older, she got dibs on the common sense genes.’
‘It’s a common sense sort of name. Ellie is…livelier. I imagine it’s short for something? Ellen? Eleanor?’ There was something about the way Laura asked that made her uneasy. But she wasn’t the kind of woman who’d buy
‘Gabriella,’ she said. With Ben sitting right there she couldn’t say anything else. Then, ‘Did the citronella candle
