I was at yours,’ she said drily.
His mouth twisted in a wry smile, and her heart did a crazy hiccup. ‘You are—and I’m very grateful. I’ll ring them.’
She left him to it and went back into the kitchen, filling the kettle and standing it on the hob by torchlight. She could hear his voice rising, but she guessed it was fruitless. Against the window she could see the swirling snow, bright in the torchlight, falling now in great fat flakes that would cut them off without doubt She threw the dirty crockery into the sink and ran hot water over it, trying to hide it.
Hopeless. She needed to spend hours in here, but there just wasn’t the time in the day, and by the evening she was bushed—
He stomped into the kitchen, a look of disgust on his face, and set the lantern down with a little smack. The flame flickered and steadied.
‘Problems?’ she said mildly. She knew there would be.
‘They can’t come,’ he growled. ‘They’re flooded with calls and they can’t do anything until tomorrow.’ He glanced at his watch, a thin flat disc of gold on a plain leather strap, simple and tasteful—and why was she even noticing?
‘Mind if I ring the people I’m going to? They’ll be expecting me and I don’t want them to worry.’
‘Of course. Be my guest. You can stay the night, if you like.’
‘Oh, that won’t be necessary. I’m sure I can walk to them from here; it can’t be far.’
‘In this?’ She shone the torch at the window again and he swore. He was doing that rather a lot. Obviously a man who liked things his own way. He’d better not take up farming, then, she thought with an inward sigh. She’d got thirty cows out there to milk without power, not to mention the calves to feed and water to fetch and eggs to collect, and it was going to be hell—starting shortly.
‘I’ll ring them,’ he muttered, and went back into the parlour with the lantern.
‘Hi, Gramps, it’s Sam. Look, I’ve had a minor hiccup. I’ve got the car stuck in a drift at Puddleduck Farm. How far is that from you? Can I walk?’
‘Puddleduck? Oh, that’s only—’
‘Puddleduck?’ his grandmother said in the background. ‘Give that to me. Hello, Sam?’
‘Hello, Grannie. I was just telling Gramps I’m at Puddleduck Farm. The car’s stuck in a drift, so I was going to walk—’
‘Oh, no, not in this! It’s much too far! You stay there, Jemima will look after you—’
‘You know her?’
‘Oh, yes, we’re neighbours—well, sort of,’ she rushed on. ‘It’s quite a distance, though, a good two miles, and in this snow and the dark—no, darling, it’s not safe; you stay there with Jemima. Perhaps you can give her a hand—she’s on her own and with the power out she’ll have to milk by hand—she could probably use your muscles to help with the other chores.’
He heard his grandfather snort in the background, and could have groaned aloud. Help her—in this? He hated the cold, and most particularly he hated cows. He looked down at his socks and trousers, covered at the ankle with a malodorous plastering of dark green, courtesy of one of the aforementioned, and sighed. He could just see the look he’d get at the dry cleaners!
‘I’m sure she can cope—’
‘Oh, Sam! She’s on her own and she’s a tiny slip of a thing. You can’t abandon her!’
He crumbled. ‘OK, Grannie,’ he surrendered. He knew when he was beaten, and if there was one thing his grandmother had always been able to do, it was to sort out his priorities. That, after all, was why he was coming to see her now.
‘Will you be all right?’ he asked belatedly.
‘Oh, yes. We’ve got a lovely warm house, and lots of wood inside the porch. We’ll be fine—after all, we’ve got no animals to worry about now apart from the dogs and cats. We’ll just wait it out. You just look after Jemima, and keep in touch. Give her our love.’
He said goodbye and cradled the phone thoughtfully. Look after Jemima, eh? From the brief glimpse he’d had of her that wouldn’t be necessary—she seemed more than capable of looking after herself, tiny though she might be. He went back into the kitchen and set the lamp down, just as she poured the tea.
‘All right?’ she asked brightly, and turned round.
The lamplight caught her eyes, golden brown and mellow with a hint of mischief, matching the smile on her chapped lips and the chaotic tumble of curls that rioted around her head. She looked young and vulnerable and incredibly lovely, and he had a sudden shaft of suspicion about his grandmother’s motives.
‘My grandparents send their love,’ he said, watching her closely. ‘Dick and Mary King.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You’re their grandson?’
‘Yes. I was on my way to stay with them, only it’s apparently too far to walk, my grandmother said. She suggested I should stay here and help you—if you really did mean it when you offered me a bed for the night?’
Jemima looked hard, but she couldn’t see a thing where his halo ought to be. It must be on Mary’s head, she thought, and stifled a smile. It was barely three hundred yards over the fields to Dick and Mary’s little farmhouse, and Mary knew it. So would Sam, when he realised where he was, and who she was.
Help her, eh?
She eyed her captive farmhand with interest. Six foot, at least, and well muscled under the sweater. He’d grown up nicely...
Yes, he’d do. A bit soft, of course, but he was proud enough to work through that. All she had to do was appeal to his ego.
Bless Mary. What a regular sweetheart!
‘Thanks—that would be great,’ she agreed, and smiled the first genuine smile since he’d arrived.
‘I’ll pay you for the accommodation, of course,’ he said quickly—doing things correctly again, of course. Her smile widened.
‘That’s OK—I’ll take payment in kind.’ She ran her eyes over his body, openly assessing him, and to her delight he coloured. He really hadn’t changed much at all. ‘You look fairly useful,’ she went on, a smile teasing round her lips. ‘Have you got stamina?’
‘I’m sure I can keep up with you,’ he said blandly, recovering his composure. His lips twitched, and her eyes were drawn to the fine sculpted lines of his mouth. Not too full, but not skimpy, either. She’d lay odds he’d learned to kiss—
‘I’d better find you something to wear—unless you’ve got anything you want to get from the car?’ she said hastily, backing off from this banter before she talked herself into more trouble than she could handle. After all, they were trapped alone together. Just because he’d been a nice boy didn’t mean he was a reliable adult He could be a serial killer, or a rapist—! ‘Perhaps some jeans?’
‘I’ve
