That Would Be a Fairy Tale - By Amanda Grange Page 0,26
still, so close that she could feel the heat of his breath, and her eyes began to close.
He kissed her eyelids, then brushed her brow with gossamer-light kisses before trailing his mouth across her cheek towards her lips. And then —
‘Alex!’ came a voice.
‘Roddy,’ said Alex under his breath.
He closed his eyes in anger and then opened them again, pulling away from her and pushing himself to his feet.
‘Alex! Where are you?’ The cry came from the direction of the house.
Shakily, Cicely rose too, gradually breaking free of the spell that had gripped her and suddenly overcome with the enormity of what had just happened. She felt herself flushing to the roots of her hair as she realized she had almost succumbed to his warm, earthy scent and his hypnotic charm.
She took a few moments to steady herself. She looked down and realized that she was covered in tell-tale pieces of hay. With trembling fingers she picked them from her long mauve skirt and her white blouse, before following Alex out of the dimly-lit barn into the sunshine.
Fortunately, Roddy was nowhere in sight. But she was badly shaken by what had just occurred and she had an overwhelming urge to hide from her unruly feelings by running away.
‘I . . . I should be going,’ she said. She did not know what time it was and therefore did not know if it was time for her to go home but she did not care. She could not possibly stay after what had happened.
‘Cicely . . .’ he said.
‘Miss Haringay,’ she said in a sudden panic.
Some of the molten heat left his eyes.
‘Of course,’ he said formally, his voice rigidly controlled. Then he said, ‘I must go and change.’ He turned, as though he were about to go, and then said, ‘I hope this will not affect our working relationship.’ He hesitated. ‘You need not be afraid of me. There will be no more . . . horse play . . . in future, I assure you.’ He made an attempt at lightness. ‘One ducking in the trough is quite enough!’
She appreciated his attempt to take the tension out of the situation by making a joke of it, and she gave a weak smile in return, doing what she could to help him pass off the awkward circumstance. ‘I am sure it is.’
‘I will see you on Wednesday as arranged?’ he asked.
She took a deep breath, then nodded. ‘You will.’
‘Good. Then I will bid you goodbye - until Wednesday.’
‘Until Wednesday,’ she said.
He strode off towards the Manor.
As she watched him go, a part of Cicely felt she never wanted to see Alex Evington again. He was too unsettling, and the effect he had on her was too disturbing. But another part of her longed to be with him, to feel his strong fingers tracing the line of her jaw and caressing the curve of her cheek, and to see his eyes, hot with desire, piercing her own.
Oh! It had been heavenly.
But it must not be allowed to happen again. She knew very little about Alex Evington, but everything she knew told her that she must not fall victim to his undoubted charm.
She found that she believed him when he said there would be no more horse-play. But even so, she knew she would have to treat him with more than the usual distance if she were to prevent her unruly feelings from rising to the surface.
She gratefully retreated to the safety of the Lodge, where she hoped to forget all about Alex Evington. But even as she thought it, she knew the hope was vain.
Alex cursed himself as he strode back to the Manor, his clothes dripping wet. What on earth had he been thinking of, chasing Miss Haringay like that? He had had a warning of the effect she had on him when he had shaken her hand in Mr Peterson’s office, and he should have been on his guard.
Instead of which he had behaved like a green boy, careering round on a bicycle and plunging into the horse trough, and then giving in to an urge to pay her back for laughing at him by making her as wet as he was.
If he had been sensible he would have done nothing of the kind. He would have excused himself and returned to the Manor to change his clothes, and no harm would have been done. But had he done it?