Page 42 of The Betrothal

“Sandwiches?” Seb sounded similar, strangled.

“Sandwiches,” I agreed.

Gathering the bread, Seb tackled the fridge. The kitchen was huge and open, but somehow we were endlessly in the space the other needed, like the universe was insisting we be in the exact same square foot.

“What does Ben like?” I looked at the buttered bread in front of me, worrying about what to fill it with. “Actually, he may prefer it if you make it?” I slid the plate over.

“You’ll be grand.” The plate slid back. “Mostly simple, ham, or cheese, but he needs fruit too.” An apple was slipped onto the chopping board. “That’s about all he’ll manage today.”

I felt the need to ask more, but bit it back, pushing it down. It wasn’t my business.

Seb tapped away on his phone, and then Alex came stomping through, accepting the plate he offered. Ben appeared at the back door seconds later, and I hesitated. I had his food.

Dithering, I realised he was watching me. His glasses pushed back into his light hair, eyes so bright with the reflection of the sun from the snow. I frowned. Surely the sunglasses would be helpful right now, but Ben simply stepped forwards, and I instinctively made myself smaller.

Seb was still messing around behind me, and that meant I couldn’t get out of Ben’s way.

He moved forwards once more. I lifted the plate and offered it, as we had become accustomed to, arms outstretched so he could take it from a distance, never too close to me.

He stepped towards me a third time, slowly filling his lungs. I realised the room around me was silent, taking stock. Alex eyed me from his seat at the table, and from Seb’s odd quietness, I assumed he did too.

Then Ben was in front of me, the soft frustration that was worn around his eyes today eased, and the smile that lifted his lips had a matching one from me. I don’t know why, but the fact that he was happy, at all, made me feel the same.

His body was almost flush with the plate, which I still held out. His gaze flitted over me, my clothes, face, then my still damp hair, then to Seb behind me, and back to my eyes. “Thanks, Izzy.”

His hands gripped the side of the plate, mere fractions between our fingers and my outstretched arms eased, releasing as he withdrew.

Then the electricity went out.

CHAPTER TWELVE

ISABELLE

Ben had instantly disappeared outside, his food all but forgotten as Alex cursed and stormed off himself.

Seb gave me the smallest shrug and followed him into the study. The sound of Alex’s gruff complaints trickling around the now-closed doors.

Emboldened by Ben’s newfound comfort, I raced upstairs to grab my jumper, slipped on my boots and trudged over the crisp snow towards the outhouses.

Sticking my head inside the large barn, I found the lights on inside. A small stove burning in the corner, the enormous space oddly warm despite its size. I paused at the way the barn was laid out. At one end sat machinery, all in different conditions, some with panels open and internal workings exposed, others clean and unbothered. Nearer still were items of furniture, several cleanly painted, if the smell was anything to go by. Some were in states of refurbishment, paint stripping, or drawers held together by clamps. Another worktable held a window, the panes of glass missing.

This was a blend of a mechanic’s and a woodworker’s studio. And evidently Ben’s space the same way the office appeared to be Alex’s.

Withdrawing from what felt like an invasion of Ben’s personal space, I ducked my head into several outhouses, storage spaces, stables with tack but no horses, until I arrived at the outhouse nearest the property. The sound of metal-on-metal told me I had located Ben.

“Ben?” I called out softly, but he didn’t reply.

“Ben?” This time it was louder, and the noise inside stopped.

Walking inside, stone steps descended ahead of me into a cellar. A shock of blond hair appeared at the bottom before Ben stepped into the light cascading down from outside.

“I brought your food?”

He paused briefly. “Come down.” He disappeared.

I stepped forwards, then hesitated. “I don’t want to intrude?”

My question went unanswered, so I followed him down.