Lee Wilkinson - The Bejewelled Bride

As Bethany hesitated uncertainly, Joel’s level voice ordered, ‘Stay where you are until I’ve located the matches.’

A moment later she heard the brush of a footfall as he moved unerringly through the blackness, then the scrape and flare of a match.

With an ease that seemed to speak of long practice, he lit the oil lamp, adjusted the flame and replaced the glass chimney. In a moment the room was filled with golden light.

His clothes—smart casuals—looked expensive, his shoes handmade, but, taking no heed of either, he squatted by the hearth and began to set the fire.

She watched as his long well-shaped hands placed first sticks and then split logs on a bed of flaming kindling.

Glancing up, he said, ‘You’re shivering. Come and get warm.’

Needing no further encouragement, though truth to tell the shivering was due as much to excitement as cold, she went and sat in the low armchair he’d pulled closer to the fire.

Putting her big suede shoulder bag on the floor by the chair, she stretched her numb hands to the leaping flames.

‘Feet cold?’ he queried, looking at her suede fashion boots.

‘Frozen,’ she admitted.

Piling more logs on, he suggested, ‘They’ll get warm a lot quicker if you take your boots off.’

Recognizing the truth of that, she tried to pull them off but they were high and close-fitting and her hands had pins and needles.

‘Let me.’ Crouching on his haunches, he eased off first one and then the other, before rubbing each foot between his palms.

His touch scattered her wits and made her pulses race. At a deeper level it also made her feel cared for, cherished, and at that moment she would have lost her heart to him, if it hadn’t been his already.

Gazing at his bent head, she noticed that his thick fair hair still had minute droplets of water clinging to it. She wanted to dry it and cradle his head to her breast.

‘That better?’ he asked when he’d rubbed some life back into her slim feet.

‘Much better, thank you,’ she answered huskily.

‘Good.’

He had an olive-toned skin at odds with his fairness, and a smile that almost stopped her heart. As he looked into her face she saw that his eyes weren’t the pale blue she had imagined, but a light silvery green. Fascinating eyes…

He rose to his feet just as the door opened and the caretaker returned, a torch in one hand and a plastic carrier bag in the other.

Plonking the bag down on the kitchen counter, the man said shortly, ‘There’s everything you should need in here. The cooker runs on bottled gas and you’ll find a kettle and crockery in the cupboard.’

‘Thanks…And goodnight,’ Joel said.

With a grunt, the man turned and shambled away.

The thought of a hot drink was a welcome one and Bethany had started to rise when Joel ordered, ‘Stay where you are and get warm. I’ll rustle up a drink and a sandwich.’

Devlin, worried about protecting his macho image, would have sat down to be waited on, Bethany thought. But Joel, confident about his masculinity, clearly had no worries on that score.

Within a minute the gas was lit, the kettle was on and two mugs were waiting.

When he had closed the curtains, shutting out the grey mist that pressed like a wet grey blanket against the glass, Joel began to unpack the carrier. There was a jar of instant coffee, a plastic carton of milk, a tub of sunflower spread, an unopened pack of cheese and a small sliced loaf.

‘Hardly a feast,’ he commented, ‘but quite adequate, so long as you like cheese and coffee and you don’t take sugar.’

‘I do, and I don’t,’ she answered.

He gave her a lazy smile that made her heart quicken and, taking off his short car-coat, tossed it over a chair. ‘In that case we don’t have a problem.’

As soon as the kettle started to sing, he made the coffee and handed her one of the steaming mugs.

Sipping it gratefully, she watched while, with cool efficiency, he made a plate of sandwiches and, carrying that and two smaller plates over to the hearth, put them on a low table.

The heat of the coffee banishing the last lingering inner coldness, she said, ‘I don’t think I need this any longer,’ and, rising to her feet, made to take off her coat.

He helped her off with it, then, pulling up a chair, joined her in front of what was now a blazing fire and, offering the plate of sandwiches, urged, ‘Do make a start.’

‘I’m not very hungry.’

When he continued to hold the plate, though she felt too pleasantly agitated to eat, she took a sandwich just to show willing.

‘That’s better.’ He smiled at her.

His teeth gleamed white and even and his smile held such charm that her heart began to beat faster.

Despite the emotional upheaval, after the first few bites her usual healthy appetite kicked in and she found herself enjoying the simple fare. Or, rather, enjoying the fact that she was sitting in front of a blazing fire sharing a plate of sandwiches with the man who had lived in her heart and mind and dreams for so long.

It was almost too wonderful to be true, and she felt like pinching herself to make sure that the whole thing wasn’t just another dream.

‘MORE?’ Joel queried when the plate was empty.

Replete, Bethany shook her head with a little sigh of contentment.

Noting the sigh, he raised a well-marked brow and teased, ‘That bad, huh?’

‘As a matter of fact I’ve thoroughly enjoyed them,’ she said, made breathless by his teasing smile.

‘I thought at first that you might be too concerned to eat.’

‘Concerned?’

‘About spending the night with a total stranger.’

He wasn’t a total stranger. She had known him for six years. But she could hardly tell him that. He would think she was mad.

Aware of his eyes on her, she said jerkily, ‘I’m not at all concerned.’

‘You seem a little…shall we say…flustered?’

Not knowing quite what to say to that, she remained silent until he queried, ‘So what brings you to these parts?’

‘I’m here on business.’

The mention of business broke through the spell his presence wove, reminding her that she ought to let Tony know she couldn’t get back.

Reaching for her bag, she took out her mobile.

Joel gave her an enquiring look.

‘I must just call the Dundale Inn and let Tony know I can’t get back tonight.’

‘I’m afraid you’ll be wasting your time,’ Joel told her. ‘You won’t get a signal here.’

‘Oh…’ As she glanced around, wondering if there was a phone she could borrow, he added lightly, ‘And knowing we’re marooned together with just one bed, might give him a sleepless night.’

‘He wouldn’t be worried.’ But, remembering his attempts at seduction, she found her colour rising. The intimacy that ‘marooned together with just one bed’ implied, and thinking a strange man might succeed where he’d failed would make him furious.

Watching her companion note that blush, she added hastily, ‘Tony’s my boss.’

‘I see,’ Joel said in a way that showed he didn’t see at all.

‘I—I mean he’s not my boyfriend.’

‘Well, either way, if he has any sense he won’t be expecting you back on a night like this.’

He was no doubt right, Bethany thought, and abandoning any idea of phoning, dropped the mobile back into her bag.

Stretching long legs towards the fire, Joel asked idly, ‘What kind of business are you in?’

‘Antiques,’ she answered quietly, still a little overawed by his presence.

‘Your own business?’

She shook her head and her hair, listened in the candlelight. ‘No. Tony, my boss, owns Feldon Antiques.’