Page 63 of Watch For Me By Candlelight

It was no surprise, therefore, that when she’d rounded the corner towards the service road on her way home, being faced with Theo’s black and silver van sent her stomach flip-flopping around her insides like a break-dancer on acid.

Kate stumbled, one foot catching the hem of her trouser leg, and the bicycle lurched to the side.

‘Careful with that,’ Theo said, appearing out of nowhere and somehow grabbing both Kate and the bicycle. ‘We don’t want any injuries.’

She had a flashback to another stumble, decades ago, on a frozen river — which hadn’t ended so prettily. It certainly hadn’t ended on a warm summer evening with a strong hand holding her arm, his touch hot through her sleeves.

‘Thanks,’ she managed, regaining her balance. He was still holding her arm. She ducked her head, her face flushing.

‘I did well staying out of your way today, didn’t I?’ She looked up. He was half-smiling. ‘Couldn’t have been responsible for my actions. That’s all I’m saying.’

‘I sort of tried to avoid you too. But I still wondered where you were,’ she replied; which was exactly the sort of thing she had not meant to say when she bumped into him.

He smiled fully then. ‘Really? That’s good to know. I was mainly at the stables; they had the brewery horses visiting today so I was kept busy with people asking me questions. I got some free beer for my troubles.’ He nodded towards the van. ‘I’m willing to share it. I don’t think it’ll fit in my ice-box.’

A nice cold beer sounded perfect.

‘If I agree,’ she said cautiously, ‘it’s almost like it’s becoming a habit. You know — post-event parties and such.’ She was trying to make light of it, and probably sounded very silly indeed.

‘Some habits are good habits. And some are so bad, they’re absolutely worth it.’

Kate laughed; then became a little more serious. She needed to say something before he did.

‘Last night,’ she began, ‘the picnic and everything was lovely. But I’m sorry if it got awkward at the end.’ Her cheeks burned as she spoke.

‘I didn’t think it was awkward. Everything that was said, needed to be said and I’m pleased we . . . well, said it.’ There was a pause while he searched her face. ‘And I’m serious about the beer offer. They gave me six bottles.’

‘Three each.’ She hadn’t meant to say that. She hadn’t meant to agree at all.

‘I’m glad you agree.’ He removed his hand from her arm. She hadn’t realised he was still holding her. ‘So,’ he winked, obviously trying to make a joke of it, and her heart joined in with the stomach-flipping. ‘Your place or mine.’

‘Neither,’ she replied quickly. Either was a recipe for disaster. Especially if it meant being close to him and that micro-brewery beer was involved. Each of their places had a bed, of sorts, at least. And as much as her resolve was strong at the moment, if she let her guard down and thought about the missed chance that Cat had experienced, goodness only knew what she would be persuaded into.

Theo looked, she thought guiltily, like he could persuade her to do a whole lot of things she wouldn’t normally consider. And that was why she decided they had to be somewhere neutral and somewhere in the open air.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The first thing he remembered was a warm, cottage bedroom and crisp, clean sheets. He couldn’t remember much else; barely even his name. The light that came through the little panes of glass hurt his eyes and he turned away.

A small, wooden door opened and a slender young woman came through it. She smiled, said something in a language he couldn’t understand, then placed the bowl she was carrying on the bedside table, and twitched at his counterpane.

The girl had red hair, and something stirred in his memory, then was gone. It hurt to keep his eyes open, so he closed them again and slept.

Thus was the pattern of his days, as the girl, and her mother, perhaps, came in and laid cool towels on his forehead and murmured soothing words in that strange language.

One morning, the girl came in and settled herself on the bed. ‘I am Felicia. You are?’ Her words were in stilted English; but he appreciated her attempt.

His reply came out in a cracked way; the result of too long without speaking and a throat and lungs that had seemed on fire for too long. ‘William. Will.’

‘Ah!’ The girl, Felicia, smiled and nodded. ‘Hello William. You have an animal? A cat?’

‘A cat?’ Will stared at her, visions of a soft-pawed, whiskered animal not making any sense to him.

‘A cat. You have talked of it. You are on a farm. We have cats too. You will like them.’

Will couldn’t think straight. Images of a boxy-headed mongrel dog floated into his mind, and that seemed to make a lot more sense. But he said nothing, as he wasn’t very sure.

Felicia smiled. ‘So William. Do you know where you are or how you came here?’