Page 43 of The Betrothal

The ceiling was low, but lights dotted around the space, casting a soft glow. On inspection, I saw they were wind-up lanterns. An old-looking generator occupied the centre of the room silently. A workbench beside it was covered carefully in tools, and a stool by the side of the machine had Ben perched on it.

“I brought your food,” I reminded him.

“Thank you, Izzy.” He didn’t stop working.

“Do you want to eat it?”

His head popped out of the open panel, and I thought briefly I’d offended him, but his nose scrunched and a small, naughty smile lifted his uneasy features.

“Would you like me to eat the sandwich you made for me?”

The question caught me off guard. I wanted him to eat full stop. Would it being my sandwich make him more likely to concede?

I decided on honesty.

“I’d like you to eat either way?”

He liked the response because the smile became a grin, and he stood, grabbing the stool and approaching the bench where I had placed the sandwich, mine still in hand. I’d considered eating it by the lake-pond.

“Sit.” The stool was placed beside me.

“Really?” I looked around the room. “This is fairly close quarters?”

He frowned, and I stopped any further argument. He had managed to channel some of Alex into his disapproval.

“Okay.” I dropped onto the stool.

He lifted the sandwich and took a slow bite, then repeated the action purposefully. I mirrored him, both of us having lunch in total silence that I was surprised to find didn’t feel uncomfortable now.

“Where do you live?” Ben observed me, anticipating my reply.

“London,” I answered honestly again. I had no intention of telling him lies; the walls he had were easing, and I thought that any insincerity on my part would only tarnish it.

“Where are you going?” He was straight to the point.

I placed the crust of my sandwich on the plate, picking at the apple I had sliced for myself.

“Away.” Some of the peace I’d found in the earlier hours of the day fractured slightly.

“Alone?” Ben was deliberately leafing through the questionable elements of my reality. A single woman, alone, no wedding or engagement ring. And, I now realised, completely unknown in a small, tight-knit countryside community.

“Thankfully.”

I chanced a look from where I was torturing my discarded crusts to see Ben watching with sympathy.

“Seb will have something to say about that.”

“Huh?” He’d lost me.

“Not finishing the food.” He grinned.

I laughed before taking a section and making a point of eating it, which earned me another dazzling Ben smile.

“You like working with your hands?”

He nodded, turning to the generator and running his hands through his hair, mussing it and disappearing into thought, giving me the chance to gather the pots and leave him to get lost in his work, the sound of metal-on-metal resuming.

Seb was perched against a low wall when I emerged into the sunlight, two cups of coffee steaming on the snow-cleared surface.