Chapter Seventeen
When they reached Critters’ Cottage, Ava turned to Henry. The sight of him in his classically styled suit, pushing her “Princess” black Pashley bike up the gravel path, made her smile. ‘You didn’t have to push my bike for me, but thank you.’
‘You’re most welcome, my lady.’ Henry faltered. ‘Sorry, I meant because of . . . I didn’t mean . . .’ Embarrassment coloured his cheeks as he positioned the bike next to the porch and kicked down the stand.
Ava screwed up her nose. ‘It’s fine. I knew what you meant.’
The awkward moment having passed, Henry smiled.
Ava invited him to follow her into the porch. Ducking to avoid the lintel, he wiped his feet on the paw-print welcome mat and began removing his shoes.
‘Oh, blimey, keep them on. Really, it’s fine. Myrtle never takes her paws off, but I still let her in!’ Regretting the obscure response, Ava returned her attention to unlocking the door, looking for the distraction of the dog as she opened it.
‘That’s funny. Myrtle normally comes to greet me.
’ Ava looked at Henry, concern in her eyes, which changed to relief as the spaniel sauntered out of the lounge.
Spotting Henry, Myrtle increased her pace, her claws tapping against the flagstone floor in a frenzy of excitement as Henry bent to say hello.
‘Myrtle, you scared me!’ Ava shook her head. ‘She’s been acting so strangely lately.’
Leading Henry and the excited dog into the living room, Ava couldn’t help but think how shabby it looked.
She hadn’t altered any of the decoration since her mum’s passing.
She kept it tidy, but it had been rustic to start with and not in a trendy way.
As she gestured for Henry to take a seat on her mum’s floral sofa, Ava realised her sketchbook was on the coffee table, her drawing of Myrtle visible.
Before she could move it, Henry picked it up.
‘Still drawing? It’s a great likeness.’
Ava took the pad, flipping the front over to close it, embarrassed at Henry seeing her work, and the memory of the sketchbook she knew she still had, full of drawings of him she’d made during some of the long hours they had spent alone in the woods. ‘Not really, just the odd scribble.’
‘That looks much more than a scribble to me. You always were talented.’ Henry smiled.
Talented. Ava’s cheeks turned pink at the compliment; she hadn’t thought of herself in that way for a long time. She tucked the sketchbook out of the way in a pile of papers and magazines, stacked at the end of the sofa.
Thanking him, she decided she needed a moment for the flush in her cheeks to dissipate. ‘I’ll . . . just get sorted, but I won’t be long. Are you OK waiting with Myrtle?’ Ava gestured for him to take a seat.
‘Of course.’ Henry slipped off his jacket, revealing broad shoulders and defined muscles in a waistcoat and white fitted shirt, before sitting down.
Ava tried not to stare. Having avoided Dapplebury House, to allow him time and space after his father’s death, she wanted to show Henry she was still there as a friend if he needed one. Admiring his muscles wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan. Regaining her senses, she headed upstairs.
Having put up her hair, Ava considered the idea of changing into jeans, but with Henry in a suit, walking in her navy, daisy-print skater dress and black ankle boots seemed more fitting.
Once in the grounds of Dapplebury House, they could stick to the cleared paths and avoid the thicket and brambles.
She checked her make-up, and tried to steady her pulse that had been racing since the reality of having Henry Bramlington in her living room had started to sink in.
It wasn’t his title that was playing with her mind, but the glint in his eyes and his warm, genuine smile, that she had always been drawn to.
That, and the memory of how much she once wanted him.
Ava shook her head. That was a long time ago.
Trotting back downstairs, attempting to look casual, Ava’s curiosity was piqued as she heard Henry on the phone.
His voice was hushed, but there was no doubt from his tone that he was angry.
She couldn’t discern much of what was said, but from the occasional word it seemed Henry wanted more time and it all had something to do with someone called Dixon.
It wasn’t a name she recognised. And time for what?
She couldn’t make it out. Reaching the final stair, she paused before stepping hesitantly into the hallway.
Peering around, Ava could see Henry, still sitting on the sofa, the angle at which he held his phone meant he couldn’t see her.
The tension in his posture was evident, and she wondered if she ought to go back upstairs.
Whatever the conversation was about, it was clear he never intended her to hear it.
Myrtle was sitting next to his black leather brogues, her head cocked to one side as she watched him.
Despite the distraction of the telephone call, Henry placed his hand reassuringly on the back of the dog’s head, stroking her.
Myrtle appeared to appreciate the gesture, before spotting Ava and barking.
Henry turned as Ava snapped back into action, attempting to look as if she hadn’t been eavesdropping.
‘I’ll be in touch.’ Henry pressed to end the call before looking at Ava.
The haunted look in his eyes removed all the bluster she had prepared in her I-didn’t-hear-anything stance, and she let out a breath. ‘Is everything all right?’
Henry sat forward, his forearms on his thighs as he lowered his head. He looked defeated. With Henry’s attention elsewhere, Myrtle jumped up to make herself comfortable in the armchair, circling and nudging at the cushion with her paw before slumping down.
Unsure what to do or say, Ava took the seat next to Henry. His knuckles were white as he wrung his hands, and she could see the tick of tension in his jaw.
Turning to her, he held her gaze before speaking. ‘Not really, but I am going to do all I can to make it right.’
Ava nodded, still unsure what to say.
‘You believe me, don’t you? No matter what people say about me, I want you to know . . . to always remember that.’
‘Yes.’ Ava didn’t know what he was referring to, but at that moment, seeing the vulnerability in his expression, she felt she could promise him anything.
‘You know me, Ava. The real me. I haven’t seen you in over a decade, and you’re probably the only person that actually knows me at all.
How crazy does that sound? And while you know I never wanted all of this’ — he gestured to his suit and cufflinks — ‘you know how I feel about the land, the woods, the heritage of that. That’s what’s in my blood. Not the title and the pretence—’
‘Henry, it’s OK. I know. I know all of that. I do.’ Ava wanted to reassure him; without hesitation, she slipped her hand over his.
Henry looked at her, his green eyes darker than she had ever seen them.
She bit her lip, a wave of desire surging through her as she became his single focus. She swallowed. His gaze slipped to her mouth before his eyes met hers once more. She felt the quickening of her pulse throughout her body and leaned in, inching slowly . . . until their lips met.
The feeling of his lips welcoming hers, made her want more.
She fought back images of the last time they had kissed: the goosebumps she felt despite the heat of the day, their skin, wet from their swim, touching as they shared explorative kisses; an intense longing for more.
She’d thought about this moment for a long time.
Opening her eyes and bringing herself back to the present, Ava leaned back, just a bit.
Henry offered her a lopsided, flirtatious smile, while his desire-filled eyes held all kinds of promises.
She smiled back. The Henry before her was every bit a grown man and they were no longer children about to be caught and chastised.
Henry sighed, before speaking. ‘Ava, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha—’
Realising he was misinterpreting her pause, she stopped his words with a kiss.
She didn’t want the moment to end; if he spoke about what he should or shouldn’t do, if they applied rational thought, then the spell might be broken.
Holding on to his loosened tie, Ava pulled him towards her, pressing her lips more firmly to his.
He responded, meeting her kisses with his own, as his hands moved around her waist, and up her back.
With a single movement, he removed the clip from her hair, sending her auburn curls tumbling around her shoulders and releasing the fresh, clean scent of her shampoo.
Sliding his hand into her hair, he drew her closer. ‘Ava.’ Her name sounded ragged as he spoke it, sending sensations through her body.
Urged on by his obvious need for her, she responded, unbuttoning his waistcoat and removing his tie before kissing round the smooth line of his jaw and neck.
Sliding her hand over the cotton of his shirt, she felt the honed body she had envisaged in her thoughts since being pressed against him on the grass.
She swallowed before unbuttoning his shirt, and sliding her hand down the centre of his firm chest and stomach, meeting the fine dark hairs above his belt line.
He inhaled, before shifting so that she could straddle him.
Kissing her, his hands moved to the outside of her thighs, slipping beneath the cotton hem of her dress.
Ava held her breath, anticipation building as his hands moved higher.
She felt lost in the moment, her mind spinning with desire until a shout from the kitchen caused her to freeze.
‘Ava!’ The shout came again.
While Myrtle scampered from the comfort of the chair towards the unexpected but familiar voice from the back door, Ava and Henry sprung apart.
‘Oh my God, it’s Mary!’ Ava leapt up, her cheeks flushed.
Henry looked at her wide-eyed — his hands hurriedly attempting to do up his shirt buttons. ‘Who’s Mary?’