‘Fling things can be a lot of fun,’ he said, leaning in and kissing her again. ‘We can have a lot of fun in a few weeks.’
He put an arm around her and pulled her closer. ‘And this is why I put a sofa in the kitchen. Of course the official reason is that it always seems a sin to rush off to another room after a good meal, almost as if you’re turning your back on it.’
‘I like that way of looking at it. Seems a shame to light another fire when the wood burner’s going so’—he kissed the corner of her mouth—‘well. And there are such delicious smells’—she squirmed as he trailed more kisses down her neck—‘and it’s so lovely in here.’
‘You know, you talk too much,’ he said, kissing her mouth.
After a while, when both of them came up for breath, he rose and topped up their wine glasses. She turned to face him, snuggling her bottom into the corner, drawing her knees up to her chin and putting her wine glass down on the small table next to her. She needed to regain a bit of equilibrium.
‘There’s something about sitting in a kitchen. When we used to eat at my sister’s there wasn’t much room, so we always ended up staying at the table talking. My aunt could never wait to get out of the kitchen. She’s not much of a cook either.’
‘Why be so hard on yourself? I mean, you’re not planning to open a restaurant, are you? Or write a cookbook?’
‘Good God no! Can you imagine it?’
‘So just enjoy yourself. Have fun learning a new skill. Maybe it will come a little easier if you relax a bit.’
‘I don’t think I’m very good at relaxing.’ It was true; she was always on her guard, always trying to be, notthebest, butherbest.
‘You managed just fine today.’
She nudged him in the thigh with one of her feet. ‘Are you talking about the sex again?’
He caught her foot and began to tickle it. She tried to yank it away. ‘No! Don’t.’ She squirmed under his relentless fingers.
‘Ticklish?’ He loomed over her and the next thing she knew they were kissing again – not that she was complaining – and she’d somehow ended up in his lap. He handed her her wine glass and they sat snuggled on the sofa as the rain began to spatter against the windows.
‘This is lovely, all snug and warm when it’s peeing down outside,’ said Hannah. ‘From this angle I really don’t mind the rain.’
‘Another reason to make the cottages so cosy. It’s not called the Emerald Isle for nothing. You don’t get all this greenery without a fair lashing of rain.’
‘I’m used to the rain. Manchester is fairly wet. And that’s what makes a green and pleasant land.’
She smiled at him, feeling the intimacy of the moment and both of them in complete accord. Conor wasn’t as sophisticated and world-weary as she’d first thought, or maybe she was just getting to know the real him, rather than the face he put on for the world.
After the most wonderful dinner of slow-cooked lamb stew with Conor’s own twist – aromatic carrots cooked in butter and star anise (he had to tell her what the slightly aniseedy flavour was), soft creamy potatoes, and thick pieces of translucent onions served with warm broccoli and barley pilaf sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds – they retired to the lounge where he’d lit the fire.
‘I’m absolutely stuffed! That was delicious.’ She still marvelled at how he’d managed to get so much wonderful flavour into what she’d thought of as a rather boring dish.
‘You saw how easy it was.’ He sprawled lazily back on the corner sofa, stretching and rolling his neck. His jumper rode up and she tried hard not to look at the dark hair on his stomach.
She swallowed and dragged her eyes back to his face with a wry smile. ‘Easy, yes. Time-consuming too.’
‘And was it worth it?’ He tilted his head in that knowing-the-answer sort of way.
‘Yes, you know it was.’
He leaned over and kissed her full on the mouth. ‘I’ll convert you yet.’
‘I think you already did,’ she murmured beneath his lips, sinking into his arms.
They lay entwined for a little while, listening to the comforting hiss and pop of the fire.
Hannah sighed. ‘This is so peaceful. I could stay here forever.’ As she said it, something shifted inside her. It had been a passing thought but it seemed to take root. What if she could stay here forever? Not necessarily with Conor but in this place? She shook her head, as if to dislodge the seed of the idea. She needed a big, bad crow to come and peck it away. What a daft notion! She would no more up sticks and move to another country than… than what?
She realised Conor had said something.
‘Sorry?’
