Although she loved her small cottage, Jessica couldn’t help feeling slightly envious as she studied the impressive bulk of the building. The cream stone had weathered over the years and in places the window mullions were either worn or missing.
‘It doesn’t look so bad from the front,’ Daniel told her wryly. ‘Wait until you see what some idiot did to the windows, presumably in an attempt to let in more daylight.’
As he spoke he guided her up the steps to the front door, and unlocked it. The hallway was windowless and dark until Daniel switched on the light. The solitary bulb dangling from a ceiling cord at the top of the building illuminated a good-sized rectangular room, its walls covered with linen-fold panelling which at some stage in its life had been painted black. Damp from an upstairs room was causing the varnish to peel back in one place to reveal the natural colour of the wood. The room smelled musty and uncared for. The plasterwork ceiling was cracked, with large pieces missing. Jessica gave a soft cry of protest when she looked down at the floor and saw the desecration of the once elegant parquet. A staircase led up to a galleried landing, part of which looked dangerously unsafe.
‘I’m afraid most of the other rooms are much worse than this,’Daniel told her grimly, watching the expressions chase one another across her expressive face. ‘Want to have a look at them?’
Jessica nodded.
It took them just over an hour to go over the house, and once they were back downstairs in the hall she could see exactly why Daniel had fallen in love with the place. She had also seen just how much work needed to be done, and as she listened to Daniel commenting determinedly and energetically about what needed to be done her admiration of him increased.
He had not taken on an easy task and, although he teased her about her indignant claim that houses had feelings, he had admitted to her that something in the house in its appalling dereliction had called out to him, and that, although half of him had said that it would be far more sensible to find a house that needed much less expensive restoration, he had not been able to resist the silent pull of the house on his senses.
‘Now you see why I need a good builder,’ was his final comment as they both gave one final look at the hallway.
Nodding, Jessica turned to head for the front door, and almost missed her footing on the uneven floor.
Instantly Daniel was at her side, his arm coming out to steady her, and then sliding so naturally and easily round her shoulders, drawing her into the warmth of his body, that she could find no worthwhile reason to make any move away from him as he asked her if she would like to see round the garden.
‘I’d love to—if we’ve got time.’
‘Plenty,’ he assured her. ‘I thought, if you were agreeable, that we’d stop for lunch on the way to Bath. I’ve heard there’s a very nice place a couple of miles outside the city. An old manor house that’s been converted into a hotel-cum-restaurant.’
Jessica thought she knew the place he meant. Somewhere she had only heard of by repute, from her more wealthy clients. She had been expecting they would have a quick snack lunch somewhere, and she couldn’t help but feel flattered that Daniel should choose to take her somewhere so exclusive. Even so, she felt bound to demur, pointing out hesitantly, ‘It’s rather up-market, and I’m not really dressed for that kind of place.’
Instantly Daniel frowned, the look in his eyes making her flinch a little. ‘It isn’t your clothes I’m taking out to lunch, it’s you, Jessica,’ he told her roughly. ‘You’re the first real woman I’ve met in one hell of a long time. Clothes don’t matter. People do…but if you’d rather lunch somewhere else…’
His unexpected compliment followed by his thoughtfulness touched her unbearably. She shook her head, unable to trust her voice, unprepared for the suddenness of it when Daniel abruptly stopped walking and swung her round so that they were standing breast to breast, thigh to thigh.
The warmth of his mouth moving against the coldness of her skin, touching the outer corners of her eyes with their betraying moisture before moving to her lips with a sudden, almost fierce urgency, obliterated every single atom of common sense she had ever had.
While his hands cupped her cold face and his mouth moved on hers with such piercing intensity, nothing else mattered other than that she respond to him—give herself up to him with equal intensity. When his hands moved beneath her jacket, seeking and then finding the fullness of her breasts, she gave a voluptuous sigh of pleasure against his mouth.
Hazily she was aware that if he chose now to lie her down against the crisp dying leaves and the long, untidy grass, and make love to her, she wouldn’t want to do a thing to stop him.
When he didn’t after all do any such thing, but instead broke the kiss, murmuring soft, regretful words against her mouth, withdrawing his hands from her body, she told herself stoically that it was just as well, that the grass would have been wet, that the wind was cold, that they could easily have been seen, while all the time her body cried fiercely in protest that none of that mattered, that it wanted him, and that it wanted him here, now, this minute.
Of course, it was impossible for her to completely conceal what she was feeling. Her face had gone pale and strained with the effort of fighting her desire.
‘Are you all right?’ Daniel asked her in concern, watching her, and then before she was forced to think up a fib to explain her pallor he swore softly under his breath, and apologised.
‘Your arm—I forgot…Did I hurt you?’
Quickly she shook her head.
The gardens were, as Daniel had told her, overgrown and neglected to such an extent that it was impossible to imagine what they had once been.
‘One of the local libraries might have some kind of archive material that might give you some clues,’ Jessica suggested thoughtfully, listening to Daniel disclosing his concern about how to best deal with the problem of redesigning the garden. ‘And, of course, there are books which give quite detailed illustrations and descriptions of period gardens from which perhaps you could establish a new design.’
Dreamily she studied the untidy, dying meadow grass and stubby saplings, seeing in their place hedges of dark green yew leading the eye down tantalising vistas into walks that hinted at secret, hidden arbours. She shivered, recognising how dangerously involved with Daniel she had already allowed herself to become—to such an extent that she could easily slip into thinking of this house as her own…this garden…
Daniel saw her shiver and, mistaking its cause, said firmly, ‘Come on. You’re getting cold—my fault for keeping you out here so long. Let’s go and have some lunch.’
Half an hour later, still protesting that a sandwich and a cup of coffee would suit her admirably, Jessica found her arm being taken in a firm grasp as Daniel led her across the immaculate gravel forecourt of the small country hotel.
This was a house of much later period than his—early Victorian, Jessica guessed from its solid appearance. It had grounds of several acres, and a classic drive set between mature trees. Even from outside it was obvious that every conceivable care and thought had been lavished on its refurbishment and maintenance, and yet she found herself thinking loyally that she preferred Daniel’s house in all its decay and decrepitude.
The restaurant was pleasantly busy, but they were lucky enough to get a table.
Daniel suggested that Jessica might like a pre-lunch drink, but she saw that he himself ordered only spa water, explaining that since he was driving he preferred to keep a clear head.
Mentally Jessica applauded him. She had known too many high-flying businessmen who seemed to believe that the country’s drink-drive laws did not apply to them.
The hotel specialised in fresh food of the highest quality, served with light, delicate sauces that did not overwhelm or destroy its flavour. Jessica, who ordered salmon, discovered that the sauce served with it was one of the most piquant and delicate she had ever enjoyed.
Like Daniel she refused a pudding, enjoying instead the ri
chly flavoured coffee and a piece of fruit.
Although Jessica had expostulated that she could find her own way from the architectural salvage firm’s headquarters, where Daniel had his appointment, to the shop where they sold her tapestries, Daniel insisted on accompanying her there, and Jessica noticed the way her friend’s eyes quickened with interest when they both walked into her small, pretty shop.
Very few women would be indifferent to Daniel’s physical appearance, she suspected as she performed the necessary introductions.
Laura Grey had started her small interior design business four years ago, slowly building on her excellent reputation, careful not to allow the business to grow so quickly that she lost control of it, and thus of the quality of the work they did.
Now the cognoscenti considered her to be one of Bath’s best interior designers, possessing as she did that happy blend of innovation plus sympathetic understanding of her clients’ desire to have their own input into the finished appearance of their homes.