Chapter 29
The sunshine streaming through the unlined curtains woke Mac up, and he mentally groaned, swearing to himself for the umpteenth time that he’d buy some new ones, because those rubbishy ones hanging at the window were so old and thin they were practically useless.
As he wondered what time it was and considered whether he should get up, because the animals would need seeing to and it was clearly daylight, he remembered that the clocks had gone forward earlier that morning and it was now an hour later than it should have been.
And as he remembered that he remembered something else, and his eyes flew open in shock, and he found himself staring at Alison, who was sound asleep beside him.
Something within him lurched with joy, excitement and disbelief.
It had been many, many years since he’d woken up to find himself beside someone – let alone someone he cared about so much.
A few months ago, he’d have said this would have been an impossible dream.
Yet here she was, flesh and blood and completely real.
He hardly dared breathe as he studied her face as she slept.
She was even prettier now than she’d been as an eighteen-year-old, the last time he’d seen her before leaving Kelsea Sands behind.
He couldn’t believe she’d been worried that he’d criticise her looks in any way.
There was nothing to criticise. She was perfect.
Not just physically but as a person, too.
She listened to him, she understood him, she cared about him, she made him laugh. She’d given him hope.
Mac had seriously thought this part of his life was over.
After everything had fallen apart with Lynne, he’d believed he’d be alone forever, and a large part of him knew that was only what he deserved.
He’d never imagined for one moment, when he returned to Kelsea Sands, that he’d find someone who seemed to like him as much as he liked her. Especially not Alison, of all people!
Yet here she was. Fast asleep in his own bed, looking like an angel in his pyjama top. He thought about the previous evening and cringed with embarrassment. It hadn’t gone at all as he’d hoped. Bloody hell, had he really said he wished he had a telly in here?
But she’d been as nervous as him, he remembered. And then there’d been the shadow of Drew hanging over them. He didn’t blame her for crying, and he understood totally why she’d been so upset, but it had added another layer to his insecurities.
He wasn’t lying when he said he was out of practice.
He wasn’t sure he even remembered what he was supposed to do.
And if the last person Alison had slept with was her husband, that would have been, as she said, ten years ago, before he’d got ill, when Drew was only in his early fifties and probably looked a heck of a lot better than Mac did right now.
No matter which way he looked at it, there was no escaping the fact that he was sixty-two years old, and hardly the stuff of women’s fantasies. What if she found him unattractive? What if he disappointed her? Hell, what if he couldn’t even manage to do it at all?
He’d been literally shaking when he got ready in the bathroom last night, and seeing her sitting there in bed waiting for him had nearly made him turn around and head straight back in there.
It was like she was watching him, judging him as he walked towards the bed, mentally assessing whether he was worthy of her and if he’d be up to the job.
Well, he hadn’t been, had he? In fact, he hadn’t even attempted it.
And now he wasn’t sure that he ever would.
Despite what he’d said last night about them having lots more nights ahead of them, the fact remained that she was going home in a few weeks, he hadn’t told her everything about himself, and she might not want anything to do with him when she found out the truth.
Even putting those two huge factors aside, he wasn’t convinced he’d have the nerve to suggest she stay the night again.
As lovely as it had been to fall asleep with her in his arms and to wake up beside her the next morning, it wasn’t what he’d promised her, was it?
Not literally promised her, but the implication had been there, and he couldn’t help but feel he’d let her down.
God, what a bloody mess he was! She’d be far better off without him.
He rolled over on to his back and contemplated what to do now.
He didn’t want to risk waking her up and face all that awkwardness again, but at the same time he wanted her to wake up.
He wanted to talk to her, to reach out and touch her, just to stroke her face and experience the joy of starting the day with her.
And he had the animals to see to. But if he moved and she woke up and she was embarrassed or upset to find herself there…
He realised that his sixty-two-year-old bladder had made the decision for him, and he slipped out of bed as quietly as he could and headed into the main bathroom. Washing his hands a few minutes later, he stared at his reflection in the mirror on the wall and shook his head.
‘You absolute moron. What a bloody mess you’ve made of everything.’
He sighed and picked up his toothbrush. Might as well clean his teeth and get dressed. But would that be rude? Would Alison consider it a snub, a rejection if he wasn’t in bed beside her when she woke up? Oh, hell! Why was everything so complicated? He was so useless at all this!
But the Bennet Sisters and the Dickensian Ducks needed to be let out and he couldn’t put that off. Maybe if he was quick, he could see to the animals then sneak back upstairs without Alison even knowing.
He quickly pulled on the jeans he’d left in the bathroom the previous night and padded downstairs, slipping on his trainers, which were in the hallway. He opened the kitchen door and Carne jumped off his bed and rushed over to him, wagging his tail furiously.
Mrs Beddows was nowhere in sight. He unlocked the back door and he and Carne stepped outside into a landscape where British Summer Time had officially arrived, the sun was actually warm and the skies were clear and blue.
He breathed in the fresh air and gazed, as he always did, across the river, feeling a peculiar sense of wellbeing and contentment.
Then he remembered he was in a hurry, and leaving Carne sniffing around the lawn, he rushed to release and feed the ducks and hens and check on the ponies and the Highlands.
Returning to the house, he met Mrs Beddows stalking home after a night on the tiles.
‘I won’t ask,’ he told her. ‘A lady’s entitled to her secrets.’ Though how much of a lady she was was anyone’s guess.
He filled the water bowls and gave both the cat and the dog their breakfast, then hesitated.
Should he make breakfast in bed for Alison?
Or should he let her sleep? Should he try to sneak in beside her and pretend he was still asleep himself, or should he admit he’d already been downstairs to see to the animals?
After changing his mind several times, he finally made two mugs of tea and carried them carefully upstairs, placing them quietly on the bedside table. She was still sound asleep, and he slowly removed his jeans, hardly daring to breathe, then climbed into bed beside her.
Slowly, slowly, he slid down the bed, pulling the duvet over himself and let out a small sigh of relief.
‘You took your time.’
He turned to face her, and she opened one eye and smiled at him.
He grinned back. ‘Sorry. Did I wake you?’
‘Yes, but I’m glad you did. You gave me the chance to clean my teeth. Morning breath.’
He laughed. ‘I went downstairs to see to the animals.’
‘What a responsible person you are,’ she told him. She opened her other eye and smiled even wider. ‘Ooh, have you made tea?’
‘I have. Do you want it now?’
‘In a minute. Thank you.’ She sighed and rolled over on to her back. ‘That was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages.’
‘I expect this bed is a lot more comfortable than a caravan bed,’ he said.
‘It wasn’t that.’ She turned to look at him, stroking his face. ‘It was because you were there beside me, and you made me feel safe.’
He was so touched he could barely speak.
‘Well,’ he managed at last, ‘I’m very glad about that.’
‘So am I.’
‘Alison, I’m sorry. About last night, I mean. I know it didn’t go as expected.’
‘No, it didn’t, but that doesn’t matter, does it?’
He eyed her worriedly. ‘It doesn’t?’
‘Not at all.’
She shuffled closer to him – so close their noses were almost touching. Her eyes were so wide and blue and innocent, and she had such soft, velvety skin. His fingers stroked her cheek, and she closed her eyes briefly, a smile playing on her lips.
He moved very slightly closer and kissed those lips, unable to resist a moment longer.
Her eyes opened, and he saw a look in them that he recognised, because it reflected an emotion that he was experiencing himself.
His hand cradled her face, and he kissed her again, his other arm slipping around her shoulders, pulling her half on to him.
She moaned, her leg rising over his, while his tongue probed her mouth and he heard her breathing quicken as his own heart thudded with excitement.
She pulled back and shrugged off the pyjama top. Her expressions and little gasps encouraged him as he explored her with his hands, tentatively at first, but with increasing confidence as desire overrode everything else.
His fear ebbed away. His doubts might never have existed, as they put the past behind them and moved forward together into something that felt so right, so perfect, he could only wonder what the rest of his life had been for.
Because this – this was all that mattered, and all he cared about. This woman, lying beneath him, gazing at him as if he was the most wonderful man who’d ever lived, showing him with every sound, every slight movement, every touch, that she wanted him, needed him – she was everything.
It was a long time before they remembered the tea. And by then it was stone cold.