Page 20 of All Summer Long

‘Robinson?’ she said, halting his passage along the corridor. ‘Thank you for this.’

He studied her for a long second.

‘Go get in before it gets cold,’ he said, and his tone said that he also appreciated her gratitude. ‘I’ll throw some food together and see you downstairs when you’re done.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

Downstairs, Robinson battled to get to grips with the Aga. He wasn’t the keenest of cooks, but back home hecouldat least turn the damn oven on. Where were the controls? This thing was straight out ofDownton Abbey. Hunkered down on his haunches in front of it, he tried to decide which of the doors to open first. It would probably have been easier to concentrate if he hadn’t been distracted by the fact that there was a mermaid in his bathtub. The house was big enough for him not to be able to hear her up there, but it didn’t stop his mind from wondering how much better that bubble bath looked now that she was in it. The weather here had been such that he’d seen barely more than Alice’s bare feet and the graceful sweep of her neck, but he had a rich imagination and had no problem filling in the blanks. Her skin would be silk smooth and pale as double cream, probably flushed pink from the heat of the fire and the bathwater. Her hair would be piled up on top of her head, and she’d be resting her neck back on the roll top of the bath, her eyes closed. Or would her eyes be open as she watched the flames dancing in the hearth? He hoped she was relaxed. In his head she was. Blissfully, bonelessly relaxed. Were the bubbles deep enough to submerge her completely, or would they afford him a glimpse of her body here and there? He decided that they probably would. He could see the gleam of her shoulders in the candle light, and lower, the hint of her breasts just beneath the foam. If he blew softly, the bubbles would reveal them. Instinct told him her nipples would be pink, like the roses beneath the front windows of the manor. The chill of being exposed would stiffen them, and the smallest of smiles would cross Alice’s mouth. Did she just arch, the tiniest of movements to give him a better view? He followed the line of her body down, the soft curve of stomach, the flare of her hip … in Robinson’s head he was already pulling his t-shirt over his head and shucking off his jeans to slide into those bubbles and pull her against him, skin to skin. Jeez, she’d feel warm. Hot. A darn sight hotter than the casserole Hazel had dropped round earlier would be if he didn’t decide which of these oven doors to open and put it in. Robinson scrubbed his hands through his hair and stood up, way too far down the road towards bathing with Alice to think straight about kitchen appliances. Maybe there was a microwave around here instead.

Upstairs, Alice sank back in the cradle of foamy bubbles and could have cried with pleasure, both physically because her body ached and emotionally because she loved this room so much. She let her lashes close, and for a few moments she let her head and heart pretend that she lived here again. It was a toss-up which she missed more these days; the manor itself or the man she’d hoped to live in it for ever with. It was so hard living in such close proximity without being able to come and go as she pleased. Her life was busy and her head full of plans and schemes, but it was distinctly lacking in luxury. This was what she missed. This room, this bathtub, this bliss. But there was more to it than that. Since Brad had left, she’d lived here alone. Borne Manor was too big for one; it was too big for two really, but being alone in the manor had been decidedly lonely, and being here right now with Robinson reminded her of how she’d hoped married life would feel when they’d first moved in. The reality had never quite lived up to her expectations, in all honesty, and it wasn’t the house’s fault, it was Brad’s. It was a hard truth to acknowledge, but this simple experience of having a bath drawn for her and dinner cooked downstairs had never happened before. Her eyes moved around the room. The jug of flowers that were all recognisable from the gardens of the manor, the glow of the fire, the creamy candle reflected against the dark windows. She’d bathed in this room countless times, but she couldn’t have created this atmosphere for herself because the necessary element that made it special was the intent behind it, the thoughtful gesture, the planned surprise. Robinson had gone further tonight to please her than her husband had in as long as she could remember.

Alice padded into the kitchen to find Robinson had laid two plates on the scrubbed table, a couple of wine glasses and an open bottle of red beside them. She was glad he’d opted for the simplicity of the kitchen table rather that the formality of the dining room, it had been her own choice when she’d lived here most of the time too.

‘Better?’ he said, looking up from the other side of the room where he was fiddling with the dial on the microwave.

‘About a million times,’ Alice said, feeling self-conscious in her robe even though it was as demure as her usual clothes were in terms of coverage. The crucial difference was that one good tug on the robe’s belt and she’d be naked. The thought had her double-checking to make sure she’d tied it securely. ‘Need some help?’ She crossed to stand beside him and tried to peer through the smoked-glass microwave door. ‘What’s in there?’

‘Hazel dropped a casserole in earlier,’ he said, pinging the door open to show her the bowl of hot stew bubbling inside. ‘I think it’s probably ready.’

‘Really? She never brought me so much as a welcome to the village card when I moved in,’ Alice said, smiling as Robinson slid the hot dish onto the table. ‘You obviously made a bigger first impression on her than I did.’

Privately, Alice had to acknowledge that this didn’t come as any great shock. She reached for a serving spoon from the drawer on autopilot, then remembered it wasn’t her kitchen any longer.

‘Sorry,’ she said, hovering the spoon halfway between the table and going back into the drawer.

‘It’s fine, Alice, relax,’ he said, pulling out a chair for her. ‘I wasn’t sure where to look. You helped.’

He had an easy way about him that encouraged those around him to feel easy too, and Alice found herself sitting down and letting him ladle food onto their plates. Sniffing the steam, she tried to decide what it was and failed.

Robinson picked up his cutlery. ‘Hazel mentioned wild boar and sweet potato, I think?’

Right. So that would be why Alice couldn’t identify the intense looking meal in front of her. Knowing Hazel she’d probably thrown in a few extra ingredients in the hope of impressing their famous new neighbour.

‘That’s, an, err, interesting combination,’ Alice tried, waiting for Robinson to try his before she braved hers. He flicked his eyes up to meet hers for a brief second and then dipped his fork in and put it in his mouth. A few seconds later, he nodded, his eyebrows raised.

‘It’s … it’s not bad, actually.’

Alice tried a little and had to agree, although Hazel had gone in heavy-handed with the chilli.

‘I think she said she’d put chocolate in it too?’ Robinson poured wine into their glasses. Alice nodded, wondering what other ingredients Hazel might have thrown into the pot. As the unusual concoction slid into her body, she couldn’t help but ask herself if there were a few aphrodisiacs in there along with the wild boar and chocolate. Sipping her wine to wash the food down, she watched Robinson eat for a few moments. He really was a ridiculously good-looking man, all cheekbones and dark lashes as he looked down at his plate. His faded red t-shirt did nothing at all to hide the strength of his shoulders and deeply tanned biceps, and the fine downy hair on his arms had been turned burnished gold by sunlight. He wasn’t model hot. He was healthy, real-man hot, and at that moment Alice found herself inexplicably attracted to him on the most basic of man–woman levels. He looked up at that moment and seemed to see right inside her head, sending a flush running up from her neck to her hairline.

‘Okay?’ he said softly.

She nodded. ‘Think so.’

‘Did I do the wrong thing?’ He drank a little wine, watching her. ‘I didn’t stop to think about how this might make you feel, Alice.’

‘How can being kind be wrong?’

He shrugged. ‘I see how much you love this house. I didn’t mean to remind you of what you’re missing.’ He paused. ‘Happy memories and all that.’

He really was a perceptive man. ‘I do love this house, Robinson, you’re right. But my memories … they’re not all happy ones.’

The expression on his face told her that he knew exactly where she was coming from. He ate in silence for a couple of minutes, and then laid his cutlery down again.

‘I guess we’re both doing the same thing in our own way, Alice. I’m here because I couldn’t stand to be back home any more. Are you in the Airstream for the same reason, because you didn’t want to live in the house without your husband?’

Alice shook her head.

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