Wild About You

Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

At 9pm, when the light was gone, I sent another message saying we would meet Callum at the Upper Reaches at nine the following morning. By 10pm, the wind and rain had started to ease. We sat, cross-legged, watching the fire together, talking about whatever random rubbish I could come up with as I tried to keep our conversation light and impersonal. Against my will, I kept wanting to move closer to him to such an extent that I felt it was taking superhuman effort to stay in my place.

You are an insane woman , I told myself.

‘You’ve been working here for a while now,’ he said, startling me out of that particular reverie. ‘Is there anything you want to know about the place? Or do you feel as though you know Stonemore back to front already?’

I thought for a minute. ‘I do have a question for you, as it happens,’ I said. ‘Why do you have a pack of hounds?’

The smile was replaced with a frown. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘I mean, it’s just a bit strange. With your green credentials and conservation plans, and Hugo . Does an old-fashioned pack of hounds really fit in with that?’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘Hunting is a vital part of the local economy.’

‘Riiight.’ I narrowed my eyes in return and tipped my head sideways.

‘Plus, I don’t have my own pack of hounds.’

Eh? My eyes snapped back to his face. ‘Yes, you do. I’ve seen them.’

‘I think I would know if I had my own pack of hounds.’

I explained the location as best I could, to his impassive face. The high brick walls, the gambolling beagles.

‘Did they look like finely honed athletes to you?’ he said.

‘I have no idea.’ I’d waved at the people looking after the dogs if I saw them, but I’d purposely kept my distance from it all because it had made me uncomfortable.

‘They’re rejects, Anna. I thought you knew. We run a small sanctuary for the local area. We send some to a national charity when we get too many. Some people shoot their hounds when they get older or are injured.’

I stared at him. ‘You mean you save beagles?’

‘Not exclusively beagles. We had a wolfhound recently. Dropped off at the gate in a crate.’

I was dumbfounded. And it was clear he was not pleased. ‘Now I’ve got a question for you.’

‘Fire away,’ I said.

‘What on earth made you think that I was the kind of person who would own my own pack of beagles?’ There was something in his face I’d never seen before. Could it be he was a tiny bit sensitive? Had I found the chink in his armour? Of course, it would be about dogs.

‘I guess it’s just the kind of thing the landed gentry does.’ Posh boy , my eyes added.

‘I see.’

‘Sorry if I hurt your feelings.’

He snorted. ‘You didn’t. It’s impossible for you to hurt my feelings.’

‘Of course,’ I said sharply.

We sat there in silence for what was probably a minute, but felt like two hours. I heard a sound of rustling, and a soft crack. His hand appeared in front of me, holding a single square of chocolate. I took it and put it in my mouth.

‘Sozzo, as Tally would say,’ he said softly. Hadn’t I said that to him? On the night of the team-building evening? His memory was scarily accurate.

I narrowed my eyes comically at him. ‘Another one,’ I said.

‘No.’

‘Pleeeeease.’ I hazarded a look at his stern face.

‘You’ll need some in the morning,’ he said. ‘Haven’t you heard of delayed gratification?’ and there was a slight glitter in his eyes. Dear Lord, I was blushing . I looked away.

‘Sorry,’ he said abruptly. ‘I shouldn’t flirt when you’re stuck here alone with me.’

‘Were you flirting? I didn’t notice.’

It was his turn to blush. ‘Thanks.’

I smiled, and nudged him in what I hoped was a blokey way. ‘Sorry. And thank you. You seem really comfortable here.’

He nodded. ‘I am. Like I said, I used to come here with my grandfather. And with friends from school and uni. I’ve got out of the habit of it recently. And my friends are all in London, making their way in the world.’

‘Bankers?’ I said, without thinking.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Some of them work in finance, yes. I envy them sometimes. No responsibilities, making their own money.’

I snorted. Perhaps the whisky was taking effect. ‘It’s overrated. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind having a ruined castle and a lovely manor house.’

He looked as though he wanted to say something, but didn’t. Instead he nursed his cup of whisky and water.

‘I’m sure it’s not easy, having all of this to take care of,’ I said half-heartedly.

‘I wouldn’t dare complain,’ he said, and I saw a touch of bitterness in the line of his mouth. ‘I know what people think. A lord in his manor house. Rich. No cares in the world. It’s not worth mentioning the leaky roof, the thousands we need to make every week just to keep the lights on.’

‘But you love it, right?’ I said. ‘It must be a labour of love.’

He thought about it; the slight frown on his face made my heart ache unexpectedly. ‘I suppose so,’ he said. ‘That is, I’ve been raised to love it. But I also try not to become obsessed with it. My grandfather was obsessed – so was my father. It came first, above everything and everyone. I don’t want to be like that.’ I sensed a deep darkness in those eyes, which he was keeping fixed on the fire.

‘It must be good to have those friends you talked about,’ I said. ‘They must understand.’

‘Yes. From my schooldays. An experience like that tends to bond you with some people and divide you permanently from others. Although I wonder sometimes…’ His voice trailed off.

‘What?’

‘I think boarding school does something to you. Takes some vital, feeling part of you. Replaces it with coldness. When you’re there, vulnerability equals death.’

‘Yeah, so this chat is taking a dark turn,’ I said. ‘And you made me carry an axe here, for God’s sake. Don’t give me cause to regret it.’

His smile was back. ‘You’ve mastered your own demise. Don’t worry. I’ve just had too much whisky.’

‘Me too! Perhaps some more chocolate?’

‘No way.’

‘Tyrant.’

‘That’s me.’

‘Anyhoo,’ I said breezily. ‘You’re one of the most eligible bachelors in England, aren’t you? That’s got to cheer you up.’

He gave me a chilly blast from those blue eyes. ‘It wasn’t exactly number one on my list of ambitions.’

‘Oh for goodness’ sake,’ I snipped. ‘Give me the chocolate.’

Sulkily, he broke a couple of squares off and handed them to me.

I devoured them like a wolverine. ‘I saw those women queuing up at the fete just to have a minute with you. I realise it must be difficult to be so wanted and desired . Honestly, shall I get you a tiny violin? Some of us don’t have potential partners cantering on our heels. And, by the way, don’t worry, you’re in no danger from me.’ This was a blatant lie, but I said it as much for myself as for him.

He looked slightly interested by that. He poured a small measure of whisky into my cup. I tapped his. ‘You too. You’re not getting me drunk on my own, matey.’ Although I had a slight feeling I might be drunk already.

‘Well, as long as I’m not in any danger ,’ he murmured, helping himself to some more.

‘It’s perfectly possible for you to marry for love, like your brother has,’ I said confidently.

‘Glad that’s all sorted then,’ he muttered.

‘George is your only sibling, right?’ I knew I was being nosy but I couldn’t help myself.

He nodded. ‘I’m the heir, he’s the spare. Dad was obsessed with Stonemore, and George and I were just the mechanisms by which he could ensure it survived and was passed on. Mother kept his attention for a while but then she got bored of him, and of this place, and took off to travel the world. Then she died.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ I fought the urge to comfort him in some way. Even touching his hand seemed impossible.

‘There’s no need.’ He brushed it off. ‘Also, I realise, it’s not exactly normal to talk about it in such a blasé way.’ To me he looked far from blasé, but I didn’t want to contradict him. ‘But neither of them really gave a damn about me or George. I lost count of the times we weren’t collected from boarding school in the holidays. All packed up, sitting in the front hall with our trunks, just waiting.’

‘How awful,’ I said.

He bit his lip. ‘It sounds like I’m trying to get sympathy.’ He got up, collected more wood from the corner store. ‘I’m not.’

‘I didn’t think you were.’ Outside the windows, it was fully night now.

He put the wood down by the fire and sat down opposite me. ‘All I’m trying to say is, I had to work very hard to disengage my emotions. To try and cut them off. I learned as a child that they were unhelpful things to have. I remember, arriving at boarding school, after my parents left, saying to myself, again and again, “I don’t care, I don’t love them.” I’m not sure that’s a healthy mantra for a seven year old to have.’

‘Seven?’ He must have heard the catch in my voice, and looked at me warningly: no sympathy . ‘That’s harsh,’ I said. ‘Sorry, Jamie, it is. For your parents to do that.’

He shrugged. ‘I’ve been an adult for a long time now. I should have sorted my head out. Do you know – I’m not sure I want to tell you this, given how fucked up it is – but I can’t even remember the last time I told someone – anyone – that I love them.’

My breath caught. I saw the look on his face – hesitant, ashamed.

‘Not even Hugo?’ I said, and smiled at the laugh it drew from him.

‘Especially not him,’ he said. ‘He’d only take advantage.’

‘I mean, I agree.’

‘Sorry.’ He smiled ruefully, adding the logs to the fire. ‘You’re not my therapist. I should definitely get a therapist, right? I haven’t talked to anyone like this in years – if ever, frankly.’ He paused. ‘And now I’m sick of the sound of my own voice. Tell me about you. And if there’s nothing dark, just make something up to make me feel better.’

I laughed, and gave him the edited highlights: Dad’s departure, Mum’s struggle to put food on the table, her insistence that Rose and I concentrate on our educations. He listened carefully, asking questions here and there, drawing more out of me.

‘I was never bullied, not really,’ I said. ‘But when I started to get good results at school, one or two of the kids said things. About my background. The fact I didn’t have a dad. It was quite a theme. I’ve always felt I have to prove myself, to somehow be…’ I gave a hollow laugh. ‘Unassailable. Perfect. Everything to everyone.’

He nodded. ‘I understand.’

‘For the record, I do actually think of you as a human being,’ I said. ‘Even though you’re, you know, a lord.’

He smiled. ‘Hallelujah.’

I steered the conversation back to work.

‘And you’ve concentrated on your career?’ He was pulling a sleeping bag out of his kit bag, not looking at me. ‘Because of…’

‘My infertility?’ I said, and saw his swift glance. ‘It’s okay, I don’t cry every time someone mentions it. No, my discovery of that is a fairly recent thing. The man behind the flowers? We were supposed to get married. It didn’t work out.’

‘I know the feeling of things not working out.’ He looked me in the eyes; there was a slight shyness in his normally unflinching gaze. ‘Here.’ He swung the sleeping bag towards me. ‘Climb into this. We can’t keep the fire going all night. Are you tired? You can go to sleep whenever you like.’

‘A bit.’ I checked my phone, then started to manoeuvre myself into the bag. Fi had replied to my first message, but I wasn’t sure the second one had got through. ‘Don’t you have a sleeping bag?’

He grinned sheepishly. ‘No. The emergency kit is packed for one. It’s fine – you have it.’

I paused, midway through zipping it up. ‘That’s not fine! Let me give it to you.’ I began unzipping.

‘No, Anna. I mean it.’

His voice was so firm, I stopped in my tracks. ‘I daren’t disobey your Hugo voice,’ I said.

He laughed.

‘Shouldn’t we…’ I took a breath. ‘Share it? If you get pneumonia and die, I’ll never find my way out of here.’

He paused in the firelight. He looked unbelievably handsome. We’d both drunk whisky. And now I was offering him my bed – or the nearest equivalent.

In my mind: sirens, red flags, red traffic lights. All totally ignorable.

‘Best not,’ he said, after a gap that was too long to be disregarded. ‘But we can sit close together for a while, if you like.’

Awkward . I shuffled my bum along until I was sitting against his left side. Nothing elegant about it, and I almost shoved him as I landed next to him, but he seemed to find it amusing. ‘Did you know,’ he said, ‘beagles lean against each other to show friendliness. To show you’re part of the pack.’

‘Really?’ I fought the urge to huddle against him. ‘I suppose Lucinda wouldn’t like it if I said I’d been cuddling up to her boyfriend.’

‘I’m not her boyfriend.’ He looked down at me in a way that was meant to be imperious but looked straightforwardly comical. ‘We’re just – spending time together. Nothing serious.’

‘Uh huh,’ I said.

‘We’re not sleeping together,’ he insisted, so strongly that I patted him on the arm in a motherly way.

‘None of my beeswax, anyway,’ I said.

‘That whisky’s gone to your head,’ he muttered.

‘Aye aye, captain,’ I said sleepily.

I was more tired than I thought. Before long my eyes were closing of their own accord and my head was nodding forwards. Then I woke, out of a mini-sleep. ‘Was my head on your shoulder?’ I said, jerking up. I felt his hand briefly touch my head.

‘Easy there. Kind of.’

Just as long as I wasn’t sniffing him. Because he did smell delicious.

‘Mmm.’ I opened my eyes properly, sat up. ‘Not sure if this is going to work. I’ll end up drooling on you or something.’

‘You can do whatever you like,’ he said, and something about the quality of his voice made me look up, and into his eyes.

This wasn’t a normal look. This was the look that I had been hoping to keep at bay all evening. That buzzing electricity that had crackled between us. I told myself to look away, but I couldn’t. About a dozen red flags waved giddily in my brain. And all of my No’s, my hold-backs, my just-be-an-ice-queens were fading out to the sound of pieces falling into place and cogs clicking into gear.

I wanted to kiss this man. I wanted, very much, to do more than kiss this man.

‘Just out of interest,’ he said carefully, finally dragging his eyes from me and looking at the dwindling fire. ‘Why am I in no danger from you?’

I tried to steady my breathing, but there was no disguising the blush that was seeping its way into my face.

‘About a thousand different reasons,’ I said.

‘Name them,’ he said, and his voice caught on the words in a way that made me close my eyes and send up a little prayer to the gods of chastity.

‘It’s just, if we got together,’ I scrambled, ‘which we’re obviously not going to do, it would be fine for a month or two, but then we’d start to get irritated with each other. You’d get annoyed I don’t know the rules to polo or lacrosse.’ He was shaking his head. ‘Or I’d curtsey wrong at an event and all your mates would laugh at me. I call them mates, you would refer to them as friends. A thousand things like that.’

‘Not curtsey properly?’ He was echoing what I’d said with complete incomprehension. ‘What the hell are you even talking about?’ I opened my mouth to speak and he put out a hand. ‘And if you even try and tell me that weird thing about pans and stoves again, I’m going lose it.’

‘Lose it?’ I snarked, forgetting my resolution not to argue with him. ‘I can’t imagine that.’

‘Imagine it,’ he said, and in one seamless movement he pulled me towards him and kissed me.

It felt so natural. It was as though I had given in to a magnetism that I had been resisting all along. As my lips parted beneath his, my whole body thrilled with a sense of anticipation, and I put my hand to his chest and pressed my body against his. You know how I thought I wasn’t up for lust anymore? How Callum had proved to me that I’d stowed that part of myself away, perhaps forever? I discovered in that moment that I was 100 per cent up for it. That I wanted to drown in it. That I was kissing Jamie – my boss, the grumpiest man in Northumberland – so hungrily you would have thought he’d been served to me on a dessert trolley. And he was kissing me back with a passion to match my own. When we moved apart, his blue eyes looked so dark in the firelight and there was a look of such hunger on his face that my breath caught and I pulled him to me again, just to taste his lips again, just to prolong this moment.

When we moved apart, he buried his face in my neck. ‘Anna,’ he said. ‘You make me lose my mind.’

I ran my hands through his hair and I didn’t even need to think about it; it wasn’t a decision, it was just happening because it was meant to happen. There was no room for worry in my mind, no room for anxious analysis, only the space for the sensations: for the touch of his hands on my waist as he gently pulled me to him; the feel of his muscular back as my hands slipped under his shirt; and the taste of his mouth as his lips met mine again and again.

The rain drummed on the roof. When he said, ‘Tell me to stop if you want me to stop,’ and unbuttoned the first button of my blouse. I said ‘Don’t stop,’ and I said it again about ten or fifteen times but who the hell cared because I wasn’t counting.

His hands were slow, deliberate; he asked with each move of them as he undid my jeans, his thumbs skimming my hips, so that I made a sound that was barely audible but seemed to drive him on. After what felt like hours of aching caresses, I peaked so hard that it was ridiculous, because it felt as though my body had melted into liquid and nothing else, I said his name and tried to touch him and he said, ‘Let’s wait until there’s a bed, Anna. I think we need a bed.’ But his voice broke on the words. All we had was the folded blankets on the bothy floor. ‘I want it to be better than this,’ he said. ‘A four-poster bed, at least.’ He smiled at me and it was as though my heart – which I’d honestly thought was numb, if not dead – broke open.

I needed to hide what I was feeling from him. I had to hide what had just hit me like an avalanche. Trembling, and so feverish that I felt I would never be cool again, I curled into his embrace and said, ‘What just happened?’ My arms tight around his torso, I breathed in the scent of him. I hadn’t realised how much I had wanted to do that until this moment. I was holding on so tight to him, and I didn’t want to let him go. He buried one hand in my hair and stroked the length of me with the other.

‘I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,’ he said, into my hair.

‘In which case, we don’t need a bed,’ I said, determined to give him what he had given me, my hand moving over his rumpled clothes, down further, exploring, until his hardness was in my hand.

‘Are you saying that you want me too?’ he said, his breath hitching. Although considering what I was doing with my hands, I didn’t know how he could doubt it.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I want you.’

As he tilted his hips, and allowed me to continue, I saw the look on his face: a half smile, half shaking of the head, as though he could hardly believe what was happening. I watched him be caught in the tide of passion as my hand moved, gently then firmly, watching every expression pass across his face, responding to him, until he let go in a way I could never have dreamed, my name on his lips.

I woke with the light from the uncovered windows, to find Jamie lighting the fire again. I was cold and stiff and felt about a hundred years old, although he must have felt worse, as I’d largely been sleeping on him. As the memory of what had happened flooded into my head, it felt like a fever dream. His face, when he turned to me, was different: there was a softness to his expression as he leaned over to me that made my heart falter in my chest.

‘Come on, old soldier,’ he said, hauling me to my feet with an outstretched hand. When I landed against him – theatrically, I have to say, I’m only human – he took my face in his hands and kissed me, and I literally moaned because he had no right to kiss so well for someone I was definitely not meant to be with.

I was already rationalising things. We’d had a drink, right? We’d just been fooling around, right? Because what on earth was I doing, apart from destroying my career prospects and side-tracking a peer of the realm whose only purpose in life was to produce an heir and a spare? Also, he’d declared he was pretty much unable to have a functioning romantic relationship, so we could just press ‘reset’. Couldn’t we?

‘I don’t like the look on your face,’ he said, looking alarmed.

‘I mean, it’s just my face,’ I said.

‘And it’s a beautiful face, but you look – upset.’

‘Not upset,’ I said. ‘A bit blindsided, but – Jamie, that was amazing.’ I didn’t have the guts to tell him that Sean had never brought me near to that level of abandon, so easily and in a way that I had completely lost control. This was no quick grope under the influence. There had been an edge and I had gone over it. The intensity of the night before hadn’t been okay, or nice, or good enough. It had been back-arching, screaming-level pleasure. Like dying and being reborn all in one. And now I couldn’t even look him in the eye. A grown woman, blushing.

We went out together to gather water. It had stopped raining at last. I looked at Jamie and saw, like me, he was glorying in the fresh air, bright-eyed and smiling, even with that hint of sadness in his eyes, which I had noticed yesterday and now couldn’t unsee.

When I waved my phone in the air, a text plinked into my inbox. Callum. I imagined an inkling of concern, good wishes, etc, so when I saw his message I snorted with laughter.

‘What does it say?’ said Jamie.

‘It just says “Okay”,’ I said, and began laughing hysterically. ‘I mean, we’ve been missing for the night and he just says okay?’

‘Did you sleep with him?’ he said, and looked down when I glared at him. ‘Sorry, I don’t want to sound like a psycho, it’s just – okay, I sound like a psycho.’

‘No, I didn’t sleep with him,’ I said, and he let out a sharp exhale. ‘Are you sleeping with Lucinda?’ I countered. ‘You were making such a song and dance about not doing it, I assumed you had.’

‘I’m not a liar,’ he said, and gave me a playful nudge. ‘We were in a relationship a while ago. But we haven’t been together in that way for a long time, and certainly not since I met you.’

‘Then why are you dating her?’ I literally wanted to kick myself for asking.

‘Because it seemed logical,’ he said. ‘Sensible. I wanted you, and it was clear that you didn’t want me, and it was driving me round the bend, so—’

‘So you wanted to make me jealous?’

‘I didn’t think it was possible to make you jealous,’ he said. His eyes were fixed on the floor. ‘Look, can we get back to Stonemore? Can we get to a bed, Anna?’ He looked at me with such intensity that I felt my stomach flip with desire. ‘Then take it from there?’

Even taking a breath in was painful. ‘I don’t think it’s going to be as straightforward as that,’ I said.

We hiked down the hillside. Jamie had descended into silence, occasionally holding a hand out to me, but his gentleness felt like a stab in my heart. When I’d tried to explain to him that we should forget about what had happened between us, I’d made such a mess of it that he’d asked me to stop. ‘We can speak later,’ was the last full sentence he’d said to me before we reached the Upper Reaches. Callum was exactly where we’d asked him to be, and gave each of us a cheerful pat on the back. We climbed into his Land Rover and carefully negotiated the route back to Stonemore very, very slowly as they discussed repairs and clear-up. As we descended, my phone started chiming with morning messages – Fi, Rose, my mum. I sent brief, cheery replies.

‘I took the wee boy Hugo home,’ said Callum to Jamie. ‘He was not impressed by your absence.’

‘Did he try and sleep in your bed?’ said Jamie, then we glanced at each other and both blushed. It was strange how I was thinking of us as a ‘we’, as though invisible threads had been spun between us. I had the feeling they’d been there for a while. It was just that I was only seeing them now.

‘Yes,’ said Callum. ‘But I chucked him out. No place for a dog.’

‘Er, quite right,’ said Jamie, and for a moment I was filled with the desperate need to laugh.

‘You look deranged,’ said Tobias, when I walked into the office. ‘I mean, like you had no sleep at all.’

‘You try sleeping on the floor of a bothy,’ I said grumpily, hoping that he didn’t notice my face turning seven shades of crimson.

‘No thanks,’ he said, stapling a sheet of paper.

‘Grab your stuff,’ said Callum, breezing by. ‘I’ll drop you home.’

‘I’ll see you later, Anna.’ Jamie was walking past me, not even a glance, just as though I was a stranger. But as he passed me, he brushed the back of my hand with his fingers.

It took everything I had in me not to follow him. In a daze, I gathered my stuff together. I knew I’d upset him by suggesting our night together might be just that. I’d got into the habit of pushing people away, both to protect them and myself. He could understand that, surely? But deep down, I knew I was kidding myself. As I walked past Tally’s desk to get my bag, I glanced at a framed image on the wall. I’d walked past it a hundred times. The family tree of the Mullhollands, stretching back four centuries – one unbroken line to the present. Dependent on one thing: children.

Suddenly, I found I was blinking back tears.

‘Anna?’ Tally was standing there, holding a mug of tea. She put it down.

‘I’m fine.’ I tried to steel myself. I wasn’t in the mindset to endure one of her lectures. But she didn’t lecture me. Instead she came to me and put her hands on my shoulders, in a stiff, but undeniably affectionate gesture.

‘I’m so glad you’re back,’ she said.

And when she put her arms around me and gave me a squeeze, I found I was properly crying.