Wickham Hall, Part 2 (12 page)

‘Green?'

He nodded. ‘I'd ask for a refund if I were you, it appears to be fading already.'

‘Good.' I took another sip of water and exhaled. ‘That's better. I've got my power of speech back.'

‘Excellent.' Ben winced. ‘Anyway, I can't go anywhere; you're gripping me too tight.'

‘Am I?' I looked down to where my fingers were leaving white marks on his wrist and eased off slightly. ‘Sorry.'

‘And forget the auction; the chap from the charity is sorting it out. Oh look, your chariot awaits.'

A quad bike pulled up beside us and one of the refuse collectors jumped down and handed Ben the keys.

‘Cheers, mate. I'll leave it up at the hall.'

The driver scooped up the bin liners full of rubbish from the back of the quad bike and Ben helped me up to the rear part of the seat, climbing on in front of me. We set off slowly through the crowd towards the exit, Ben tooting the horn at people in our path, me clasping my arms loosely around him. I inhaled his familiar citrusy scent and allowed myself to relax against him for a moment before remembering something . . .

I tapped his back. ‘Ben! The itinerary, my clipboard!'

I must have left it on the path where I fell.

He shook his head. ‘Forget the clipboard. For once, OK? Just—'

‘If you dare say “live for the moment”, I might have to thump you,' I grumbled.

‘And normal service is resumed.' Ben laughed and I felt the vibrations through his ribs and into my arms.

We drove on, taking the long route as Ben tried to avoid the bumps across the parkland and away from the noise of the festival and the bustling crowds and on towards the hall. The plume of the fountain sparkled ahead of us and I sat quietly, enjoying the ride, as my body gradually returned to normal. This was better, I thought, leaning my cheek against his back, definitely much better.

Ben would probably have to drop me at the hall and then go straight back to his duties at the festival and I realized that I didn't want him to leave me. Not just yet.

‘Do you mind if we don't go back to the hall?' I said over his shoulder. ‘Can we go to the sunken garden instead?'

‘Sure.'

Ben changed direction and we headed left past the maze and the wild flower meadow and he stopped the quad bike at the edge of the sunken garden. This was my favourite part of the grounds; it was the furthest away from the hall and very restful. Even today when there were thousands of extra visitors at Wickham Hall, it was very quiet: just one or two groups of people strolled amongst the paths and under flower-covered arches.

‘You look much better, I'm glad to report,' Ben said, helping me down from the leather seat. ‘Your freckles are back. They disappeared for a few minutes under the green.'

‘Thank you, Dr Benedict.' I grinned.

‘You had me really worried.' He frowned.

What a sweetie. He looked genuinely concerned and I leaned forward to give him a hug when I remembered: Ben was my boss, he felt duty-bound to look after me. That was all. My heart drooped a little.

‘Sorry,' I said, giving him a bright smile. ‘I'm fine now. I'd been rushing around in the heat and I hadn't had anything to drink; all my own silly fault.'

I turned and walked down the wide stone steps that led to the cool shade of the sunken garden and onto the gravel path and Ben followed behind. My legs still felt a bit wobbly and when we reached an oak bench I sank down immediately.

Ben sat beside me, sighing contentedly. ‘Well, this is nice,' he said, stretching out his legs.

I looked sideways at him and grinned. ‘I give you thirty seconds before you start jiggling your leg or pulling leaves off that ivy.'

‘No, no,' he said, sliding up the bench towards me. He took hold of my wrist and pretended to take my pulse. ‘I'm quite happy to do my doctor bit for a while longer. Let's just sit here quietly. I want to be completely sure you've recovered before either of us goes anywhere. If that's all right with you?'

His habitual grin had been replaced with a solemn gaze and I nodded slowly at him. It was just as well he wasn't a real doctor: my pulse was galloping and my legs were even more wobbly now that his firm thigh was pressed up against mine.

I hadn't been this close to a man for ages. My last boyfriend had been Simon the fitness instructor from Eden Spa and that had finished over a year ago. There was my dentist, of course. He was a man. And he made my pulse race, but only in a scary, what-are-you-doing-with-that-drill sort of way. This was a more delicious type of racing. It was nice. Better than nice. My insides felt quivery in a good way and I had fizzing sensations in my stomach that I hadn't felt for a long, long time.

‘Well, that all seems to be in order,' Ben said, releasing my wrist. ‘My mouth's gone a bit dry, do you mind . . .?'

He gestured towards my water bottle and I handed it over. He began to unscrew the lid and I stared at it, wondering if he would wipe it before putting it to his lips.

He didn't.

My lips had touched that bottle. Oh my God, what was I thinking? I felt my face flush.

‘So that's two of your wishes I've made come true: watching the sunrise and riding a quad bike.' He raised a smug eyebrow and took another sip of water.

‘Quite the genie, aren't you? If I rub your lamp will you grant me my third wish?'

Was it just me or did that sound rude?

Ben choked on his water. Maybe not just me.

I took the bottle from him and swigged at it to cover my embarrassment and managed to slosh water on my chin. He leaned across and wiped the drips away with his thumb. One of his curls, like an uncoiled spring, fell over his eye and without thinking, I brushed it away.

We were inches apart. Touching each other's faces.

‘You want a
third
wish?' he murmured. ‘And what would that be?'

We both lowered our hands and stared at each other and my breath caught in my throat.

I had only known Ben for a month. One month since he burst into my life, trouserless, outside his sister's wedding. Not long at all. And yet so much had changed. I didn't mean all the stuff I now knew about Mum and my father. I meant me. I felt a brighter, more alive version of myself when he was around. It was almost impossible to remember what I used to smile about before he arrived.

And suddenly I knew what my third wish would be: I wished I had the courage to lean forward and kiss him. Or even better for him to kiss me. Or both, in which case that would be wishes three and four . . .

But that wasn't going to happen, was it? He was just being kind because I'd fainted. I might have to resort to fainting more often. Maybe that should be my wish . . . a daily faint into Ben's arms.

‘Earth to Holly?' Ben grinned.

I stood up and pulled him to his feet, breaking the moment before my thoughts strayed into more dangerous territory. ‘We should be getting back to the festival.'

‘Come on, what's your third wish? I want to know your deepest desires,' he persisted, taking my arm and linking it through his. ‘And no, we shouldn't. Doctor Benedict's orders.'

I looked down at our joined arms.

‘In case you still feel weak.' One side of his mouth lifted in a sheepish smile and a little bubble of joy burst inside me.

‘Um, my deepest desires?' I mused aloud.
Your lips on mine. Right now
. Better not tell him that. Might make Monday morning in the office a tad awkward, I'd have to think of something else. ‘I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours.'

‘Deal.' He shot me a cheeky grin. ‘You first.'

We headed towards a trellised walkway laced with thousands of delicate wisteria fronds, a froth of lilac on every side. It was breathtakingly beautiful but it was a bit lost on me because Ben's arm was touching mine and my stomach was all fluttery and—

I pulled myself back sharply from my reverie. What was I doing, getting all tingly about Ben? This was Benedict Fortescue, the next lord of Wickham Hall, and I was Holly Swift from Weaver's Cottage; he was so far out of my league it was laughable. Only I didn't feel like laughing . . . I let out a tiny moan.

‘Holly?' Ben's voice was soft with concern. ‘You're not feeling faint again, are you?'

‘Sleeping in a four-poster bed,' I blurted. ‘Waking up at Wickham Hall in a four-poster bed. That was always my dream when I was a little girl. There. That's my third wish.'

We had reached the end of the wisteria walkway and Ben stopped and turned to me.

‘You ask a lot of your genie.' His deep brown eyes twinkled at me. ‘But it can be arranged.'

Something in his tone made the heat rise to my face and it dawned on me that I'd effectively just asked for a sleepover at his house.

He must think I'm a lunatic
.

‘Thank you for looking after me, for rescuing me, but I really must get back to the festival,' I stuttered, untangling myself from his arm.

He caught hold of my hand and raised an eyebrow. ‘Not so fast, Miss Swift. You haven't heard my wish yet.'

I exhaled, trying to calm my breathing, and smiled. ‘Of course. How rude.'

He stepped closer and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. ‘I wish you'd have dinner with me. On Saturday night.'

‘Dinner?' I swallowed.
Dinner to celebrate the end of the festival or dinner as in a date?
‘Why?'

He chuckled and scuffed his toe on the ground and then gave me the sweetest, shyest smile I'd ever seen. My insides melted and I was very tempted to cover his lips with wishes three, four, five and possibly six.

‘I like you. Very much. And everything I know about you so far has only made me more intrigued and I want to get to know you better. Plus,' he paused and held my gaze, ‘you're so single-minded and determined about everything and I find that very . . . appealing.'

You know when you roast a marshmallow over an open fire and your face goes pink from the heat and then you bite into the middle and it's all gooey? Well, all of that.

‘It's very kind of you to invite your employee out for dinner but there's really no need—'

He blew out a sharp breath and frowned. ‘I'm not— this has nothing to do with you being an employee and everything to do with you being a very lovely girl.'

My heart skipped a beat.
Dinner as in date, then. Because I am a lovely girl. Yippee!

‘Ben,' I said kindly, trying to ignore the bubbles of excitement in my tummy, ‘I'm flattered. But you're aristocracy, I'm staff. Would Lord and Lady Fortescue be happy if they knew you'd asked me out on a date?'

He opened his mouth and there it was: a tiny hesitation, so tiny that I almost missed it. But it was there and my heart sank. ‘It's nothing to do with them.'

I gave him a sad smile and turned to walk towards the lily pond. Ben leapt forward and twisted me round to face him, his eyes boring into mine.

‘Holly, listen. You are a breath of fresh air. Most girls I meet are more interested in the fact that I'm expected to inherit Wickham Hall than in me. Which is a bit of a blow to the ego.'

I smiled up at him. ‘I can imagine. But you must have met some girls who aren't like that.'

He gave this some thought. ‘True. My last girlfriend, Sam, wasn't interested in Wickham Hall, but then she wasn't interested in art either and as I wasn't into horses, we ran out of things to talk about after six months.'

I held out my arms. ‘I don't know much about art either. Except that I like yours.'

‘There you go; you have an eye for talent.' He grinned. He caught hold of my fingers.

I shook my head sadly. ‘We're worlds apart, Ben.'

He brought my hands up to his mouth and kissed my fingers lightly. ‘Holly. Can we . . .? Let's forget that for a moment. And just be Ben and Holly.'

I paused and blinked at him. Being attracted to my boss wasn't in the plan. But it seemed to have happened anyway and maybe this was another of those unplanned magical moments that I needed to just go along with. And maybe I was being a bit harsh on Lord and Lady Fortescue: they were nice people, kind to their staff. Perhaps they would see what Ben had seen and be happy for him.

‘Holly?' he prompted.

‘I'm always just Holly,' I replied simply, lifting one shoulder.

‘You are far more than just Holly,' he murmured. ‘I thought I'd hate working in the events department, stuck in an office doing boring organizy-type things. But you've made it bearable, enjoyable even, and I think . . . Well, you bring out the best in me and I think my parents will be forever grateful for that. So don't say “just Holly”.'

I swallowed. Hard. No one had ever made me feel as special as he had just done in those few words.

His eyes locked onto mine and he traced a line with his fingertip along the side of my face.

A thousand thoughts whirled through my head then but the most vivid one was that I might forget what he'd actually just said or exactly what he did but I would never, ever forget the way he made me feel.

He dipped his head lower and I felt my breathing begin to race.

We were going to kiss, we were actually going to kiss. How had this even happened? One minute I was arguing about the obstacles that stood between us and the next . . . Frankly, I couldn't care less about any awkwardness on Monday morning in the office. It was days away whereas now was . . . very, very real. Ben took my face gently in his hands and I closed my eyes as the gap between us disappeared. And for a blissful, heart-stopping fraction of a second my lips touched his and we shared the sweetest and briefest of kisses.

A crash in the bushes behind us frightened me half to death and I leapt out of Ben's embrace as though I'd been prodded with a sharp stick, pressing a hand against my thundering heart.

And not a moment too soon. Lady Fortescue appeared from amongst a thicket of rhododendron bushes dotted with fuchsia-pink flowers. Her eyes darted from her son to me and she arched her eyebrows and sucked in her cheeks.