‘Well, that’s OK,’ Alex soothed. ‘I don’t have a clue what I need either. How am I supposed to make up for all my lost years, doing nothing with my life? How am I meant to move on from being so sad when I was so young? We both need to figure out what our bigger pictures look like. Right?’
‘Right,’ Magnús nodded slowly, still thinking. ‘I guess as a book nerd I should know the story isn’t over until everybody’s happy.’
Alex smiled back. ‘Getting really properly happy might take a long time, but I think that’s OK. At least I made a good start today.’
Magnús laid his empty mug on the side of the bath then reached for Alex’s and placed them together. ‘I want to know… you came back for your own sake,já? But did you also possibly… want me, a little? And not just for this week?’
Alex grinned again and, with some difficulty, lifted herself onto her knees so she could lean towards him. The sight of her rising from the water, wet hair clinging to her curves and the candlelight iridescent on her skin like glistening mermaid’s scales sent a jolt of desire through Magnús’s core like a bolt of lightning. This was a vision he would never forget for the rest of his life.
Leaning over him so she could reach his lips, Alex said, still smiling, ‘I want you.’
When she covered his mouth with hers, Magnús’s entire nervous system responded in a wave of wanting, and he pulled her wet body down onto his, water sloshing onto the floor, Alex sighing against his lips, kissing him deeply until she suddenly pulled away, awkwardly disentangling herself. There seemed to be knees and elbows and hard surfaces everywhere.
‘You can’t be comfy in this little tub,’ she said.
‘Nei, and the water’s going cold,’ Magnús agreed, and they were out of the bath somehow and wrapped in the same towel in seconds, kissing against the bathroom door, then kissing all the way down the spiral steps, neither of them using their eyes to find their way, until they made it back to the heat of the fireside again.
This time, their feelings were all on the surface. No secrets or silences held them back. They had one more week together. This was their time – to hell with the storm. They were going to extract every last breathless, desirous second of pleasure and comfort from it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Granny Clove-Congreve’s Chapel
While some in Clove Lore forgot all about Storm Nora, Minty didn’t have that luxury.
‘I’ve never seen rain as heavy as this in all my life,’ she told Jowan, peering out the kitchen window.
‘You can’t see it now, neither,’ Jowan joked. Beyond the glass, the night was completely dark, and no stars or moon visible.
Minty paused at this. ‘Back in a minute,’ she said and strode out of the room. Aldous dutifully followed her in the hopes of another cheese sandwich.
Jowan sat by the Aga, pouring a fresh mug of tea from a chipped pot. He noticed the gloom outside the window lifting. Minty was switching on every light in the house, even in the empty rooms she’d turned over to the developers. Soon Jowan could make out illuminated sheets of rain immediately outside and for a few metres into the grounds.
Thunder rumbled nearby and Jowan pinched at the bridge of his nose.
‘Everything all right?’ Minty asked, barrelling back into the kitchen and making sure Aldous was safely in the room before closing the door behind her.
‘It’s this air pressure, givin’ me a headache, it is. It’ll go once the thunderclouds break.’
Minty searched in a drawer, finding everything but painkillers. ‘Would a brandy help?’
‘It’d make it worse, if anything. Come, sit down.’
Another loud rumble came from the clouds above them, so violent it seemed to stop the rain for a second.
‘I can’t sit still,’ Minty confessed, pacing to the dresser and pulling out drawers, rummaging for paracetamol she was almost sure she didn’t have.
‘You’ve lit all the lights, then?’ Jowan rose and carried a china cup and saucer to her; Minty always told him tea didn’t taste the same in a mug.
‘The whole house,’ she said, taking the tea with a distracted smile. ‘We’re supposed to be a beacon, aren’t we? We landowners?’ Minty’s voice was cynical and Jowan sniffed a laugh.
‘You certainly light up Clove Lore, Mint.’
Now Minty laughed. She gave up her search and slid the drawer shut.
‘Papa was never all that feudal, he left the villagers to get on with things, but Grandfather would host the entire village every Christmas, back when it was thriving. The whole place smelled of mulled cider and roast partridge. He’d present each of the estate’s men and all the dairy girls with a gift – very formal, I remember. They didn’t quite curtsy and bow but it wasn’t far off that kind of thing. Grandfather felt he owned a share in the whole village’s fortunes, and he was right, of course; he certainly owned all the land and cottages. Unfortunately, our family took the village down with them. Still, there’s a part ofmethat feels guilty. One rather wishes to repair some of the damage wreaked by Papa.’
Minty walked back to the aged Aga and stood with her back to it, gripping its metal rail with her free hand. Jowan followed her and took his seat again.
