The Girl is Not For Christmas - Emma V Leech Page 0,90

away. It gives me the pip.”

Livvy rolled her eyes at him, clearly thinking him quite ridiculous.

“Come here, my handsome fellow,” she said to Mr Moon, obviously seeking to irritate King all the more.

Sadly, it worked, but it was a relief to see her back to her usual self after the morning’s upset, so King let it go.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said, turning back to King with Mr Moon perched on her shoulder like a parrot. “I should like to show you… something.”

She made an odd jerking motion with her head in the direction of the garden, making it clear she had an ulterior motive.

Walsh cleared his throat and made himself scarce, clearly interpreting her words in the same way King had.

“Now, Livvy,” he scolded, even as his body tightened with anticipation. “If I won’t debauch you in the comfort of a bed, you can’t think I’m so bloody mad as to do it in this filthy weather. We’d catch our deaths, and frankly—”

“No!” Livvy said, interrupting and tutting at him. “Honestly, is that all you can think of?”

“Me?” King retorted, stung. “Well, I like that!”

Livvy folded her arms, narrowing her eyes at him. “Do you want to see what I’ve been doing with Ross Moyles, or do you not?”

King’s eyes widened.

“Oh,” he said, surprised.

“Yes, oh,” Livvy repeated, adding a sarcastic tone. “I shall be in the garden in ten minutes. Don’t keep me waiting.”

“I shouldn’t dream of it,” King murmured, and watched her hurry away.

King slanted Livvy a look as they walked in silence through the wet garden. The rain had cleared, the sky a bright white, but everything was sodden, and moisture hung in the air. It clung to Livvy’s hair, giving her a rather ethereal appearance. God, but she was lovely.

“Stop looking at me like that or I shall drag you into a bush and ravish you,” she said tartly, though her beautiful lips twitched with amusement.

King snorted. “You would too.”

Livvy nodded. “So, don’t tempt me.”

He sighed and wondered why life was such a damned bitch. Why now? Why had fate thrown her into his path now and lit her up like a beacon, screaming love and salvation this way, if he wasn’t allowed to have her. It was too bloody cruel.

“It’s this way,” she said, taking his hand now they were out of sight of the house and pulling him across an open field.

“Will Mr Moyles be there?” King asked, curious what this was about.

Livvy shook her head.

“No, he has a farm to run.” She glanced up at the sky overhead and sighed. “If only there were more sunshine. Still, it’s mild enough, that’s a blessing. A hard frost is the big concern.”

“Is it?” King said, perplexed.

Livvy noted his bemused expression and laughed. “Yes, it is.”

She dragged him behind a large, tumble-down barn. Brambles grew thickly here and snagged at their clothes. It looked as if no one had been here for years… until you moved farther around the back. There was a neat path cut through the overgrowth and a well-trodden track. They walked single file now with Livvy leading the way, still holding King’s hand as though she were afraid he’d run away. More buildings appeared, decrepit, with holes in their roofs and ivy tangling through broken windows, or the toothy gaps where windows had been.

“Where are we going?” King asked, wondering what on earth she’d been up to.

“Not long now,” she called over her shoulder.

They turned a corner and…

“Here!”

King looked about him.

“Well?” Livvy said.

He frowned. “Er…”

She tsked at him and tugged his hand. “Here,” she said, pointing down at the remains of what looked to be a storeroom on the side of another small brick building. The walls had been knocked down, leaving perhaps three feet of wall backing onto the barn, which was still intact. Sitting on top of what remained were large windows, clearly salvaged from the other crumbling buildings, fitted to make a kind of cold frame. King moved closer, peering through the glass.

“Good heavens,” he said, straightening to stare at Livvy. “Is… is that…?”

“Yes!” Livvy said, beaming at him, clearly proud of herself and enjoying his flummoxed expression. “Isn’t it marvellous?”

“But… But how?” King demanded, wondering how they had managed it.

“Well, they’re in a bed of manure and oak bark. Both create heat around the roots, you see. Then, in the little building behind, we’ve piled tons more manure, which also heats the air through those holes in the wall. So, the plants are nice and snug. They