A MOMENT before Ellie had been feeling elemental, powerful, the earth mother being worshipped by man.
All she felt now, in the presence of this tall, slender designer-wrapped snow queen, was pathetic, grubby, easy…
She couldn’t bear to look at either of them and, not knowing what to say, where to put her eyes, she seized on the first thing she saw. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Doc,’ she said, picking up the trowel. ‘Holes to dig…’ maybe she could dig one big enough to hide herself in ‘…herbs to plant.’
‘Ellie, wait.’ Ben made to follow her. Natasha stopped him with a touch of her white hand, with its perfectly French polished nails, to his arm.
‘Leave the poor girl, Ben.’ Then, with a soft laugh, ‘Really, you
Ellie didn’t blush. This kind of embarrassment was beyond blushing. She didn’t hang around to hear what Ben had to say, either. She needed to take out her feelings on something right now, and innocent soil would feel no pain.
If she kept moving, didn’t stop to think, maybe she’d manage to keep one step ahead of it. That was the answer. Grab for life, hold on to it. Keep moving. Don’t stop to look back…
She blinked, brushed something from her cheek. Shooed away Millie, who was nibbling at one of the plants with a look of ecstasy on her face. Grabbed a tray of plants.
Lemon balm.
She didn’t have to look at the label. As she brushed against a leaf the scent rose, clean and fresh, bringing back that moment in the nursery.
It had been some kind of a turning point for her. The day, so dark and full of bad memories, had turned on that moment, become a day of sunshine and promise…
She dashed away another tear that had escaped. She didn’t cry. Wouldn’t cry. Tears were useless, pointless, and blinking furiously, biting down on her teeth until she thought they might break, she looked around. She’d planned the layout of the garden, knew where everything would go.
She was halfway through filling the square with the lemon balm when Ben joined her. He didn’t say anything. He just picked up a box hedge plant, jabbed an old trowel into the soil with more force than was strictly necessary, scooped out a hole, stuck it in, firmed it down. Repeated the action over and over, completing the edge while she filled in the middle, until the square was complete.
‘What’s next?’ he asked.
‘Rosemary.’
They both reached for the same plant. His hand closed over hers. ‘I’m sorry…’
‘Don’t!’ They both looked up at the same time. ‘It wasn’t your fault, Ben. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. It was me.’
‘You? What did you do?’
‘I threw myself at you. Just as well you stopped at a trowel. If you’d bought the border spade who knows what I’d have done?’ She tried to laugh, but the resulting sound was closer to a strangulated hiccup.
He lifted her chin, forced her to face him. ‘I wasn’t apologising for kissing you, Ellie. Or for anything else I had on my mind. I was apologising for the fact that you were subjected to Natasha’s…’ He seemed lost for a word. Or maybe he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
‘She came back expecting to find you pining for her,’ Ellie said, rescuing him. ‘It must have been something of a shock to find you
Even as she asked the question the answer was obvious, even to an idiot like her. Why would she stay away? Let go a man like Ben Faulkner, who was not only her match in looks, in brains, but was kind to small children, animals and even to stupid girls like her?
‘I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.’
‘I turned down a job I was offered last week with UNESCO. To head up a project to catalogue, research ancient languages. She was hoping to change my mind.’
‘She flew from New York for that?’
He might be some kind of genius, but if he believed that he was also the dumbest man in the world.
‘I had a personal call from the Director-General. Apparently Natasha put my name forward. I imagine she was a touch irritated that I wasn’t sufficiently flattered to leap at the chance.’
A touch irritated he hadn’t leapt to change his mind, more like.
‘I can see why she might be a little put out. It sounds perfect.’ Certainly dealt with the question of him trailing in her wake.
‘Yes, it does, doesn’t it?’ He took the plant from her hand, stood up, lifted her to her feet. ‘Jetting all over the world, a tax-free salary, prestige coming out of my ears, Natasha’s New York loft apartment when we manage to connect for a day or two. She couldn’t understand why I’d turn it down.’
‘Why did you?’
‘I don’t get off on that kind of power trip, Ellie.’ He looked at the plant he was holding, then at her. ‘This is my home. This is where I want to be.’
‘She still isn’t interested?’
‘I didn’t offer her the option. In fact I didn’t offer her anything other than to call her a taxi. She wanted me to join her for dinner, but when I explained that I had unfinished business with the “help” I finally got through to her.’
‘Oh.’ Then, ‘I was right, then. You can’t have it all. I almost feel sorry for her.’
‘Only almost? That’s harsh, coming from the softest heart in Melchester.’
‘That “help” crack is going to take a while…’
He replaced the plant in its tray.
‘I think we’ve done enough here. Do you want to get the hose, give these plants some water, while I put the tools away?’ Then, ‘I thought we might avoid cooking and give the Italian round the corner a try. If you like Italian food?’
‘Love it,’ she said, although it probably wouldn’t have mattered what he’d suggested. Thai, French, Japanese, a hot dog from the caravan in the lay-by on the ring road…
She fetched the hose from where it was lying on the path near the bonfire. Tried the trigger mechanism, but nothing happened. ‘How does this thing work?’
‘It’s locked. You have to click the smaller trigger first,’ Ben said, passing her with the fork and a rake in one hand, the trowels in the other.
She turned it over for a closer look. ‘Like this?’
The water shot out of the spray like a power shower. A freezing cold power shower. Ben made the mistake of laughing, and she turned it on him without a second thought. He caught his breath, too shocked to speak and too hampered by the tools he was carrying to do anything to stop her.
Then he dropped the tools, grabbed the hose and chased her round the garden with it, while she screamed helplessly with laughter until he caught her, brought her down on top of him.
‘I surrender,’ she shrieked, as he rolled her onto her back and pinned her against the soft grass beneath his dripping body. Then, as she saw the naked desire in his eyes, the laughter died on her lips, and for a moment all they did was look as they caught at their breath.
Then, when she thought she might die if he didn’t kiss her, might die if he did, Ben Faulkner’s mouth descended with the abrupt, hungry insistence of a starving man who’d found himself unexpectedly offered a feast.
It had been so long. Maybe she’d forgotten the intensity of the feelings, the need, the urgency. Maybe it was just the newness, the strangeness. Or maybe it was none of those things, but something more. Whatever it was, she wanted it. Wanted it all.
Ben finally raised his head, looked at her with eyes that were more black than blue, and despite the icy drenching there was no doubt that his hunger, his need, was as immediate as hers.
‘Ellie?’ Her name was a soft question, not a demand. He was giving her a choice. A chance to think again. But she didn’t want to think…
‘As I’m your p-prisoner-’ she began. Her voice died on her. This was all new to her. With Sean there had been
