‘Oh, OK. I suppose not.’
‘Admittedly, a fairly rubbish fireman, with faulty equipment, but still …’
‘I should have thought about the fact that the ladder looked about a hundred years old.’
‘Hmmm. The woodworm has had plenty of munching time,’ he said.
‘I’m so sorry. Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘Haven’t been this all right for quite a while,’ he said, his gaze steady as he stared at her. Fran held his gaze, blinking as though she had something in her eye as she tried to process what he’d just said.
Luckily, Johnny must have sensed her confusion, because he frowned and glanced away, holding up a hand. ‘Actually, I might have picked up a couple of splinters on the descent.’
Fran appreciated his joke, the effortless way he’d broken the tension, and she switched her gaze back to the sunlight marbled in greens by the tree. She supposed she should get up, should check on Red, shouldn’t be lying on the ground next to a man she barely knew, and yet, apart from the fact she had the edge of a tree root digging into the back of her shoulder, she hadn’t felt this comfortable in a long time. With the slightest of breezesstirring the leaves, creating a rustling perfectly accompanied by a kaleidoscope of hues in the canopy, Fran felt strangely at peace.
It was just as well that the splinters in Johnny’s hand were beginning to sting like the very devil, as it enabled him to focus his attention on his hand, rather than on the fact that he was lying on the ground next to a woman he found startlingly attractive. The pain helped him ignore the strength of the impulse he’d felt to kiss her neck when he’d landed on top of her. Even now, the realisation that with the slightest of movements he could reach across and brush his fingertips across the creamy skin of her arm was difficult to disregard, the desire to do so only marginally buried behind the pain in the palm of his hand.
There were a couple of large splinters sticking from the skin of his palm and he rolled flat onto his back to be able to make a more detailed search. Running a finger across his hand, he found a couple more smaller shards of wood buried deep in his flesh.
‘Does the chateau have a medic?’ he asked.
‘I’m not sure,’ Fran said, levering herself up onto her elbows to observe. ‘Oh, my God. I thought you were joking. You really do have splinters. That looks painful.’
‘It’s not that bad. I’ll live.’
‘Well, that’s good news, because I’m pretty sure killing a guest might get me the sack.’
Fran grinned, and he joined in, disappointment clouding the moment when Fran sat up and then stood, brushing crumbs of dusty soil and leaf fragments from her clothing.
‘I’m sure we must have somebody trained in first aid. Let me get back to the chateau and find somebody to help you.’
‘What about the ladder?’ he said, more to prolong his time with her than because he had any burning desire to tidy up.
‘I suppose I should return it,’ she said.
‘I might as well do it,’ Johnny said. ‘It’s already done its worst to me, what else can go wrong? And then I should probably get some disinfectant for my hand.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said.
‘Don’t be,’ he said. ‘I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.’
And he was only partially joking.
In the end they both carried what was left of the ladder back to the shed. The impetus of Johnny’s rapid descent when one of the brittle rungs gave way had shattered several more on his way down, and to all intents and purposes the ladder was now a structure of two halves. With a bit of persuasion, in the form of a sharp kick, Johnny separated the two side rails from the remaining rungs and, carrying a rail each, they lugged the pieces back to the shed, shoving them inside and closing the door with the speed of the guilty wishing to remain undiscovered.
Fran glanced around sheepishly, checking they hadn’t been rumbled, while Johnny began to pick at the larger of the splinters.
‘I should go and get myself cleaned up,’ he said.
‘Do you want me to come back with you and organise some first aid?’ Fran glanced around, as though she’d misplaced something.
It took Johnny a while to realise what she was looking for. He sighed.
‘No. I’m more than capable of phoning room service. I’ll head back.’
‘If you’re sure?’ she said, backing away from him as she added, ‘And thanks again for your help.’
‘Even though it wasn’t really required?’
