For Better for Worse

And yet later, holding Zoe tight in the warm relaxation of post-coital intimacy, her head resting heavily on his arm, her body curled sensuously around his, her breathing slowing and evening out into sleep, he remembered how tense and oddly fragile Heather had felt when he hugged her; how struck he had been by his sharp awareness of her unhappiness and aloneness.

They were not his problem, he reminded himself as he closed his eyes. She was not his problem.

CHAPTER TEN

‘WELL, what do you think?’ Zoe demanded excitedly.

Clive had just driven off to go a

nd see the architect and they were alone in Broughton House’s grounds. From where they were standing it was possible to see the house through the tangled undergrowth that choked the small copse, and from this distance it looked solid and permanent, the signs of age and decay hidden.

‘It’s smaller than I’d imagined,’ Ben commented, ‘and one hell of a lot of work will have to be done before we can even think of using those kitchens.’

‘Well, we knew that,’ Zoe dismissed impatiently. ‘And anyway, you’ve said all along that you’d prefer to have a say in the design of the kitchen.’

‘Those don’t just need redesigning,’ Ben told her drily.

‘But Ben, you’ve got to admit that it’s got masses of potential. These grounds… the area… I hadn’t realised the town was going to be so pretty. It will be a tremendous hit with American and Australian tourists.’

‘American and Australian tourists? What American and Australian tourists? We don’t get any any more!’

‘We will,’ Zoe told him firmly. ‘You’ve got to admit that all this…’ she waved an arm to embrace their surroundings ‘… is wonderful…’

‘Is it?’ Ben asked her wryly, but he was laughing, Zoe recognised, and behind his dour refusal to share her enthusiasm she could sense that secretly he was excited.

‘I can see what Clive means about the stable block being extended to make perfect extra accommodation.’

‘Yes, if we can get planning permission,’ Ben reminded her.

Zoe refused to be deterred. She laughed, turning to him, flinging her arms round him and hugging him fiercely.

‘Oh, Ben,’ she teased him. ‘How you do love to worry! Just look at all this.’ She gestured to the grounds around them. ‘And once people taste your food…’

‘All right,’ Ben admitted, hugging her back, his face breaking into a grin. ‘All right… I love it. Now are you happy?’

‘Yes, yes, yes!’ Zoe laughed back.

‘It’s going to take a hell of a lot of time and money before we even get close to serving food, though, Zoe,’ Ben warned her. ‘And as to what it will cost to convert it to the type of place Clive has in mind…’

‘Clive knows what he’s doing. He’s a millionaire,’ Zoe interrupted him cheerfully. ‘And,’ she added with emphasis, ‘he didn’t get that way just by chance and with good luck.’

‘Come on,’ Ben urged her. ‘I’m hungry…’

‘Let’s just have another look at the pool,’ Zoe pleaded with him.

Ben shook his head, but he still followed her back down the path they had just taken, pausing with her as she stood entranced by the sight of a small kite’s tail of ducklings following their mother across its placid surface.

‘Oh, just look at them, aren’t they gorgeous?’

‘Gorgeous,’ Ben echoed, keeping his face straight as he mused, ‘Henri had a recipe for duckling. It—’

He yelped as Zoe aimed a small thump at his arm, and whispered teasingly in her ear, ‘Ducklings… are you sure they’re not really swans?’

Zoe made a face at him.

They talked the whole thing through excitedly as they drove away half an hour later. All right, so the house was badly affected by damp in places, and certainly, having looked at the rooms, she had been forced to agree with Ben’s original comment that until they had planning permission for a conversion and extension of the stable block to provide more realistic accommodation, they could not hope to open the house as a hotel; but even Ben had had to agree that the place had potential.

Zoe sighed ecstatically.