The bathroom was twice the size of her bedroom at Amy’s house and had enough towels to dry half a dozen people, it seemed. He had followed her into it. ‘I’ll turn it on for you. There. Take your time. And do use the shampoo and things.’
Fran took a moment to check out the toiletries; they were extremely good quality.
There’s very little as wonderful as hot water coursing over you when you’re very tired and feel sticky. She stayed in there longer than was necessary for cleanliness and washed her hair, mostly because she wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen next.
Then she put on one of the bathrobes hung up behind the door and inspected her face. For some reason she was faintly surprised and a bitdisappointedto see she had absolutely no make-up on at all. She hadn’t put any on that morning, nor since, but somehow she still expected to see remnants of mascara or a smudge of colour on her lips, but there was nothing. She needed her handbag.
She opened the bathroom door a crack and couldn’t see Antony. Feeling ridiculous, she nipped out and into the sitting room where she’d left her bag. She ran back into the bathroom with it.
She’d never been one for keeping an entire make-up kit in her bag – she didn’t wear it much anyway – but she needed something to soften the ‘just boiled’ look her shower and hairwashing had given her.
Fortunately the wonderful toiletries in the bathroom included some sort of moisturiser and with the stub of kohl pencil and a dried-up mascara, she felt a bit better by the time she emerged again.
Antony was in the hall. ‘Hi,’ he said. He must have been waiting for her. ‘I’ve ordered tapas. It should be here in a minute. I hope that’s all right?’
‘I love tapas!’
‘Good. I’m glad I haven’t made a mistake.’ Then he took hold of her wrist and put his hand on her cheek. ‘I hope this isn’t a mistake either but I don’t think I can put it off any longer.’
His mouth on hers took her by surprise but she was more than ready to join in. She felt she had never been kissed so thoroughly or so skilfullybeforeand it set her on fire. When the doorbell rang meaning the food had arrived and they had to stop it was like pulling magnets apart.
Fran slipped into the bedroom to get out of the way. She trusted the food would either be taken into the kitchen or the sitting room. She didn’t want to be seen by anyone in her current state – not when it must be perfectly obvious what she and Antony had just been doing.
She was looking at the view, trying to take it in, when Antony came to the door. ‘You can come out now.’
Delicious aromas of spice led her to the sitting room.
The coffee table in front of the sofa was set out with little dishes, some of which were still sizzling. A bottle of wine was open and there were a pile of proper napkins along with a couple of plates and knives and forks.
‘It smells really good,’ said Fran.
‘It will be good. Come and sit down.’ He picked up the bottle of wine and half filled a glass, which he handed to her. ‘Is there any reason why we should drive home today?’
Fran considered all her responsibilities waiting for her at the farm, including Roy. ‘No.’
He smiled, and poured wine into the second glass. ‘Now, what would you like?’ He had a plate in his hand and seemed to want to serve her.
Shecouldn’t think. She was so distracted by her need for Antony. She swallowed. ‘Any of it, except octopus. I’m not keen on octopus.’
‘Nor me,’ he said, ‘so there isn’t any.
It would have been so restful, being served, she realised as she sat back in the corner of the extremely comfortable sofa, if she hadn’t been on fire for him.
His every movement excited her. Seeing him put potatoes cooked with chorizo and paprika and tomatoes on to a plate with a little square of pork belly and some slices ofibéricoham seemed like the sexiest thing she had ever witnessed.
She sipped her wine and looked at him. When he caught her eye she looked at her plate and nibbled roasted almonds.
The food and wine were delicious but she couldn’t eat or drink much. Antony didn’t seem very hungry either.
Eventually, he almost threw his plate down, wiped his mouth on his napkin and got up. He crossed to her and held out his hand. ‘I think it’s time I took you to bed.’
Eventually, they were hungry again, and Antony fetched the leftover food. They ate it, cold and a little bit greasy, but it was still delicious. Not more delicious than what had gone on the previous hour, but still lovely.
‘I’vegone and gotpatatas bravason the sheets,’ said Fran.
Antony sighed contentedly. ‘I couldn’t care less. Do you want some more wine?’
‘No thanks. I’ve had enough.’
