“I’ll thank him profusely when I meet with him this morning,” I said, though I wasn’t sure why I felt any need to reassure Maggie of that. She wasn’t really my mother. I couldn’t imagine having had a mother like her.
“And you’re to tell him all about that tree falling through the window, and anything else you’re worried about,” said Maggie, putting her hands on her hips. “Hecan come across as quite stern, and sometimes abrupt, or a little insensitive. But beneath it all, he’s a very decent man.”
I wondered at those comments about how stern he could be, and insensitive. I hadn’t experienced that at all. A little thrill rippled through me, for some reason, at the thought of him raising his voice in punishment to me. The heating was on, the room was warm; but my nipples tightened again, as if a chill had returned. I shifted the duvet up under my arms to ensure Maggie didn’t see, and sipped my tea.
“He’s been incredibly kind to me,” I said. “Too kind. And so have you.”
Maggie watched me closely as I buttered my crumpet, and heaped on a generous helping of jam.
“You’re a very old soul, aren’t you?” she asked, with a voice that sounded miles away, like she was contemplating something. “I’ve not met anyone like you in a very long time.”
“It’s the dales,” I said, after savouring my mouthful of hot buttered crumpet, with the sweet sting of the tart jam coming soon after, and swallowed. “They weather you, like the landscape.”
“No, it’s not the way you look – you look fresh out of the wombyesterday. You’re still wet behind the ears with nappy marks on your bum. It’s your voice, the way you speak. You’re old before your time,” said Maggie, chucking me under the chin. “I’ll finish up your bath.”
After a long soak, I realised time must be getting on – but I hardly wanted to leave the luxury of such a deep, hot bath. Never could we have managed one this deep at Heather House. It would have taken hundreds of trips tothe stream, and hours to boil that much water – which would be cold by the time we’d boiled the next lot. Shallow, luke-warm baths were the best we could manage.
Only when the water started to cool did I force myself out of the tub. I put the robe back on and left the steamy bathroom. I needed to find something suitable to wear from my jumbled-up suitcase.
That’s when I saw him there, dressed in a white shirt and a black tie, with a brocade waistcoat and his hair styled in loose waves. I screamed to see him, so startled by his sudden presence. I cupped my hand over my mouth, feeling foolish.
“Good morning, Grace,” he said, smiling politely as his eyes dropped to the floor. His hands were casually held behind his back, but I could see the tension in his shoulders.
“Good morning, sir,” I said, all too aware of my nakedness behind the robe.
My hair was sopping wet and hanging around my shoulders, and I knew my skin would be blotchy and red from the hot water. I didn’t mind a bit. For the first time in years, I felt alive again, like the hot bath and the bed and the beautiful breakfast had warmed my ice-cold blood up again.
“You don’t have to call mesir, Grace. I’m not your headmaster. You can call me Nicholas, or Nick.”
“Nicholas,” I said, enjoying the way the syllables played over my tongue.
“I can see you’re still getting ready. I’m sorry about that. I’ve got a busy schedule today – every day, actually – so we’d better have our chat before I get waylaid. Will yoube all right, making your way downstairs to the room we spoke in last night?”
“Of course,” I said, holding the robe close around my body. I could feel every inch of myself, my skin, every sensitive part of me pulsing gently in pleasure at seeing him.
“Good. Right, then,” said Nicholas, and he bowed his head and left the room again.
Breathing out in one go, I felt suddenly faint, as if I hadn’t been able to breathe properly with him in the room. The cleft between my legs was throbbing insatiably, moistened with longing that surprised me and left me shaking. I leaned over the bed – which Maggie had freshly made, I realised – and gathered my strength. The little bud inside my folds pulsed away, intensifying as I remembered the sight of him in his waistcoat, looking so elegant and expensive.
And so mature.
My hands felt inside the robe and held one firm breast, squeezing it, before my thumb found my nipple. No man had ever brought this out in me before; only men I imagined in my mind, when I was falling asleep. I’d never even been with a man romantically. Before Tom, I’d never even kissed one.
My body was falling between such extremes that I could hardly comprehend them. What was this man, and this house of death, doing to me? Like a moth emerging from its chrysalis, I was assaulted by these new sensations, feeling my nervous way toward a new beginning. I was meeting Grace Lockett, away from Heather House, for the very first time.
Chapter Four
Nicholas
I tore myself from the room before I said something inappropriate. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, but God, I wanted to.
She was perfect. Standing there, like a spirit with her translucent skin, hair, and those damp eyelashes. A fragile collarbone, the robe spreading just far enough for my eyes to catch the mounds of two small but perfect breasts.
I’d steeled myself, acted casual, as if I’d seen nothing – but the aching in my trousers was not something I could hide, not for long. Grace had sent me rock-hard within seconds, and now I was bowing my head in disgrace, praying I didn’t see any members of staff as I made my way upstairs to my room on the top floor. I had to calm down, and fast. We had a busy morning ahead of us, with preparations and client meetings, and god help us if we had any walk-ins. This was the last thing I needed. I wondered, momentarily, if I’d be wiser to send her home.
Once I reached my room, I slammed the door shut and turned the key.
Grace’s image rose up in my mind no matter what I did. Her small stature, her slim frame, the blush in her cheeksand the sudden cry as she saw me there.
