Short Stack - Lily Morton Page 0,93

and his voice is full of heat and amusement.

I shake my head even though he can’t see it. “I’m just saying what you were thinking.”

“Sweetie, that should worry you far more than it does.”

I laugh. “I know. Soon I’ll be striding all over the estate throwing orders out left, right and centre, and posing with my hair flying about artistically.”

“How lovely,” he says silkily. “You make me sound like Biggles.” That makes me laugh even harder, and when he speaks, I can hear the smile in his voice. “Twat!” he says affectionately.

“Your twat though,” I say. “I do love you so much,” I finish fervently.

“I love you too, angel. Always will. And don’t worry about the birthday. It’s just another day.”

“It’s not just any day.” I look over at the pile of carrier bags and the white box bearing the name of a very expensive bakery. “I had everything planned,” I say sadly. “I went out and collected your cake, and I’ve got all your presents here wrapped and everything.”

“Why are my presents there?”

I look incredulously at the phone. “Are you kidding me at the moment? Wasn’t it you who found all your Christmas presents the week before?”

“I told you. I stumbled on them.”

“In a box behind three packing crates in the attic?”

There’s a short silence. “I was just having a look for my shaving cream,” he says in a very martyred voice.

I laugh. “Whatever, Trevor. The presents came with me to stop the same thing happening again. You’ve got a nose longer than Richard Armitage’s.”

“Well, I’m sure he’s at home wishing he had a cock like mine.”

I smile. “Stop talking now. I’m thinking of Richard Armitage.” I pause. “Okay, I’m back!”

Niall laughs loudly. “When will you be home?”

“Tomorrow or the next day. As soon as I can get away.”

“Take your time. This is your career we’re talking about. It’s important.”

“Not as important as you. I’ll hurry. Besides, I need to be back for…” I stop talking quickly.

“Back for what?”

“Oh, nothing,” I say. “Did you know that Lord Ingram has peacocks on the estate?”

“Don’t change the subject.” There’s an arrested silence. “Oh my God,” he says slowly. “Please tell me I haven’t got a party.”

I nod, thinking of the preparations that Oz, Silas, and I have made over the last few months and the fact that all his family are due to arrive at the weekend. “No, of course not,” I say quickly. “We’re all far too busy.”

“Oh, okay, that’s a relief,” he says blithely, but I grin at the note of disappointment that he can’t entirely hide.

“So, what will you do tonight?” I ask quickly to change the subject.

“My fist,” he says and laughs at my splutter. “Not really.” He pauses. “Well, probably. But other than that I’ll wander up to the house and see if anyone wants to give me the bumps.”

“Make sure they don’t drop you on your head. Your brain’s screwy enough as it is,” I say tartly. He laughs. “I love you,” I whisper. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, lovey. More than I can say.”

I click End on the call and gaze around the extravagant room I’ve been put in. Decorated in reds and golds, it’s lush and expensive, the mahogany furniture polished and shining and the four-poster bed dressed lavishly in Egyptian cotton sheets and a red and gold bedspread. It looks like a film set, and I smile at the thought of Niall’s distaste if he saw it with his love of beige.

The whole estate is very different from Chi an Mor. Lord Ingram is wealthy, and it ensures that the house and gardens are meticulously well kept and everywhere looks polished and shiny. I prefer home, but it’s actually been a nice stay. The staff are friendly, and I’ve had everything I needed put at my disposal with no expense spared. The wall paintings in the chapel have been challenging, but I’ve really enjoyed testing myself against them, and my client has been so pleased with the results.

There’s only one fly in the ointment. I look at the time on the clock which reads seven o’clock and immediately cover my ears, but I know I won’t be able to block out what’s coming. “Jesus Christ,” I mutter as the cannon fire commences and everything on the cupboards starts to tinkle and judder about. I grab a hairbrush as it starts to slide off. I count down the seven booms, and everything