‘Well, thank you so much for telling me.’ The level of sarcasm in her voice surprised even her.
‘Don’t be like that.’
‘Why not, Ben? Why shouldn’t I be angry that you decided all on your own what was best for me? You should have talked it through with me.’ She placed her hands on her hips and shook her head slowly from side to side. ‘This is becoming a pattern, you know-you jumping in and rescuing me from myself. Well, you know what? Perhaps I don’t need rescuing!’
He stood up and walked towards her. ‘It’s not like that, Louise. I love you.’
She backed away, still shaking her head. ‘I’m not one of your stupid plants, you know, something to be trained or cultivated. You can’t fix me, Ben. I am who I am and you need to accept that-all of that-and if you can’t, then perhaps I don’t need you at all.’
Ben stopped walking and stared at her. How could he convince her? ‘I know I messed up, Louise. And I know I jumped in too fast, but that’s only because…I’ve never felt this way about anyone else-ever. It excites me, confuses me, scares the life out of me. I don’t want to lose you.’
Her shutters fell again, and this time they were clamped down and double bolted. With an increasing sick feeling in his gut, he realised that this was the kickback from last night. She was too raw, and she was protecting herself the only way she knew how.
The Louise he knew would never hold a grudge about that stupid magazine interview. It was just easier for her to feel anger, to hate him for that, than to let herself feel any of the other things last night’s conversation had brought up. And he wasn’t going to get anywhere by pushing. He had made that spectacularly awful mistake already and it had triggered this whole mess.
But he was going to leave her in no doubt as to how he felt about her before he gave her the space she needed. She had to believe him about that. Knowing she would just retreat if he approached her, he stayed rooted to the spot and hoped the truth of his words could pierce her shield.
He wanted to say something beautiful, elegant, poetic-something to reflect just a tiny bit of what he felt for her-but his mind was blank. No flowery words seemed to measure up. So he spoke with his eyes, his body, his whole being and, finally, he simply said, ‘I love you. I always will.’
The shield around her buckled just enough for him to see a deep yearning ache behind the fire in her eyes. She wanted to believe him, but she was too scared, and he tried to pinpoint why that was. What was the overriding factor here?
Guilt.
The word popped into his head as if someone had whispered it in his ear.
The irony of it all hit him like a blow in the solar plexus. Once again, he was offering all he had-his heart, his life, his love-to a woman, and it wasn’t enough. While she nursed her guilt, anything he could give her, even if he wrapped the whole universe up and put it in a silver box, would never be enough.
Until she believed she deserved the happy ever after she yearned for so desperately, it would always be out of her reach. Until she understood she was worth being loved, she would always doubt him. Always. And that tiny speck of doubt, like a grain of sand would irritate and irritate until she couldn’t stand it any more. Even if he could talk her round now, their relationship would die from a slow-acting poison.
He had to let her go. Just the thought of that made his nose burn and his eyes sting. He coughed the sensation away.
Louise was looking at him with a strange mix of irritation and confusion on her face. It took all his strength not to reach for her, not to taste her lips one last time. Heavy steps took him across the kitchen to the door. He opened it, stepped through, then turned to take one last look.
‘Goodbye, Louise,’ he said, then closed the door and walked away.
The daffodils were gone and blossom was on the trees when work on the old stable block was completed. The garden was looking fabulous too, although that always made her feel a little sad. Ben’s men had done a grand job. She hadn’t seen him again, really, since New Year’s Day. She kept away from the village, preferring to shop in the nearby towns, although she fancied she’d seen him from a distance a few times. On each occasion she’d turned tail and scurried away.
How could she face him? After all those awful things she’d said to him? She’d had a chance and she’d blown it. More than that. She’d blasted it to smithereens with dynamite.
At least she’d found something to do to take her mind off it all.
She’d spent most of January unpacking her feelings about her childhood. In her teenage years she’d just soldiered on, doing the best she could. But now, looking back on her past with the eyes of a mother, she wondered why there hadn’t been more help. Social Services had been very keen to let them know when things weren’t up to scratch, but nobody had ever offered to step in and help.
A break-just a week away from it now and then-might have made all the difference. She’d have gone back refreshed, ready to carry on. And she’d have been less susceptible to impossible fairy tales and knights. Not a knight in shining armour, but in black leather-wolves’ clothing. She sighed. Maybe that was being unfair to Toby. He wasn’t the devil incarnate; he was just immature, weak, spoiled.
Louise picked up her bunch of keys and headed out towards the stables. It was time for one last look around before her guests arrived.
In the small cobbled courtyard in front of the stables there was now a fountain and bright flowers in pots, benches to sun oneself on. Inside was even better. Four apartments, which she’d really enjoyed decorating, had all the mod cons, everything needed for a week of relaxation and pampering.
As winter had faded and the snowdrops had appeared on the hillside, she’d approached Relief, a charity that specialised in giving respite care for young people who had to act as carers for sick or disabled family members. They were desperate for more locations to send the kids, places they could rest, unwind and meet others in the same boat. On site would be a cook and general den-mother, so the guests didn’t have to do chores and cooking as they did at home, and a child psychologist would be making regular visits.
She took one last look around the apartments, checking everything was perfect. Three girls and a boy were due to arrive from London in the next hour. She plumped a cushion on one of the settees in the communal sitting room, which led on to the dining room and kitchen. She was getting too emotional about this, she knew, but she just wanted these kids to have the best. They deserved it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
BY THE end of the week, the occupants of the new apartments had stopped staring every time they saw her and were much more ready to beg for cake or tease her. Jack was really enjoying having the company too. He’d been itching for Saturday when he’d be able to join in the fun. He and Kate, the den mother, had taken three of their ‘guests’-James, Letitia and Rebecca-on a guided tour of the grounds. Not that they hadn’t explored every square inch already. But, apparently, only Jack knew all the best trees for climbing.
Only Molly had remained behind. She was a quiet, mousy girl who had only hovered on the fringes of the group all week. Louise found her in the stable courtyard when she went to collect a cake tin she’d left in the kitchen.
‘Hey, Molly! How’s it going?’
Molly dipped her head and looked at Louise through her thick, dark blonde hair. ‘Okay.’
‘Have you been having a good time?’
Molly grimaced. ‘Yes.’ She fidgeted. ‘Can I phone home?’
Louise sat down next to her. The spring air was sweet and fresh and the sun was beautifully warm on her skin in the sheltered courtyard. If she sat here for more than a few minutes, she’d have to take her cardigan off.
‘Of course you can. But I thought you already called this morning.’
Molly nodded and looked away.
‘They’re okay, you know-your family. They’ll do fine while you’re here. Relief will have sent some excellent staff to do all your usual jobs while you’re away.’
Molly looked unconvinced. ‘They might not do things right. I need to check.’
Louise dearly wanted to put her arm round the girl, but she wasn’t sure it would be welcomed. Only fourteen,
