a large tureen – this one containing soup, he hoped, and not rainwater – and a basket of rolls.
Crikey, if you harnessed all the rampant sexual undercurrents racing round the table, they’d be strong enough to power the entire house. Liam couldn’t take his eyes off of Julia; Joss toyed with her food and mooned over Liam; and Rory, Dominic noted with irritation, was deep in conversation with Gemma about the spring lambing season.
‘Your hands are so soft!’ she was saying to Rory in awe. ‘Do you use a special hand cream?’
‘Nope,’ he said, and smiled. ‘It’s the lanolin from the wool. Keeps my skin soft as a baby’s.’
‘I keep telling him we ought to bottle it up,’ Joss joked. ‘We’d make a fortune on the high street.’
Natalie leaned forward. ‘Dominic,’ she said in a low voice, ‘Rhys and I are getting married soon, and I’d love to hold the wedding here at Mansfield. I know you told your mum no,’ she hastened to add as she saw a mulish look descend on his face, ‘but it’d be perfect. And it’d mean so much to me.’ She played her last, most important card. ‘And we’ll pay whatever you like.’
Dominic hated the thought of Nat marrying Gordon here at Mansfield Hall. He and Rhys despised each other, and had done from the first time they’d met.
But he had to be realistic. Losing the Dissolute contract, even temporarily, would cost him a lot of money. Playing host to weddings, film crews, pheasant shoots and rock festivals was exactly what Mansfield needed – a way to keep the estate in the family, and keep it in better nick for future generations.
He did a quick mental calculation. The fee for one wedding reception alone would cover the cost of a new boiler and replacement of the crumbling Robert Adam ceiling…
‘Okay,’ Dominic said, grudgingly. ‘If my parents agree, I don’t see why you and that twit Rhys can’t get married here.’
Lady Mary’s laser-like gaze settled on the two of them. ‘What’s that, darling?’
‘Nat wants to get married here at Mansfield. If it’s all right with you lot–’ he didn’t look at his father or Liam ‘–it’s all right with me. Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ he said as he stood and tossed his napkin down, ‘I’m not hungry. Goodnight.’
And with a face like one of the thunderclouds outside the windows, Dominic left the dining room and disappeared into the blackness of the hallway.
‘Dom, wait!’ Gemma, panicked at the thought of traversing those dark, shadowy halls to find her way alone up to their room, pushed her chair back. The story of Lady Eleanora and her bridegroom had unnerved her more than she’d realized.
But Dominic was gone.
‘Don’t worry,’ Rory reassured her, ‘I’ll be happy to take you upstairs.’ He laid his hand reassuringly atop hers.
Gemma sank back in her seat. ‘Thanks.’ Bloody Dominic. She glanced at Rory, who smiled back at her. Joss’ older brother was actually quite attractive, once you got past the sheep farmer thing…
‘I think I’ll call it a night as well.’ Natalie thanked Lady Mary and Charles once again for their hospitality and stood up. ‘It’s been a long day. Goodnight, everyone.’
The others rose as well, and as Charles and Lady Mary led the way with candelabras in hand, they made their way across the hall and up the stairs to their rooms, and bed.
The storm continued unabated until sometime after midnight. Dominic found sleep impossible. He didn’t know if it was the narrowness of his old twin bed, or the wind whistling round the corner, or the fact that Gemma was once again pissed off at him.
She’d told him in no uncertain terms that she preferred to sleep alone and that he could spend the night ‘dreaming of Natalie’. Then she’d walked down the hall with Rory, giggling at his jokes like a schoolgirl, until they turned the corner.
Dominic scowled. Gemma was probably sharing that sheep farmer’s bed, right this very minute. He threw back the covers and got up. There was no way he’d sleep now; he’d make his way back downstairs and find the kitchen.
He needed a big bowl of Cocoa Pops and a think.
Natalie couldn’t get warm. She’d forgotten how cold these old houses were at night, particularly when there was no power and not nearly enough blankets. She missed Rhys. She’d gotten used to the warm expanse of his back against hers at night, and she missed the smell of him in her pillows and blankets.
She looked forward to their wedding. Although she’d kept her flat, she spent most of her time at Rhys’s house on Endell Street, choosing curtains and rugs and fairy lights for the terrace. Rhys found her domesticity amusing.
It must be the result, Natalie decided as she threw back the covers, of those years spent with Dominic, living out of a tour bus and never having a place to really call her own.
She wanted to make Rhys’s house into a home…their home.
Natalie groped amongst the bedcovers for her robe and slipped it on. What she needed was a nice warm cup of cocoa and a good book. There were thousands of books in the library; surely somewhere amongst the treatises on history and dusty first editions she’d find a mystery novel, or a Jilly Cooper, or perhaps a book about Lady Eleanora Locksley…
No, scratch that, Natalie decided hastily. She wanted a dull, anodyne book to help her drift off to sleep, not one that would keep her up half the night, biting back a shriek every time a floorboard creaked or a branch tapped against her window.
But first, she decided as she took up the candle Lady Mary had left flickering by her bedside, she’d go downstairs to the kitchen and fix herself a lovely mug of hot cocoa.
Dominic took down the box of Cocoa Pops and rummaged until he found a mixing bowl, then dumped half the box of cereal in. After adding a generous splash of milk, most of which ended up on the counter, he settled himself at one end of the trestle table and began, morosely, to eat.
He didn’t hear Natalie come into the kitchen over the crunching of his cereal.
‘Dominic?’
He let out a startled yelp and flung his spoon and bowl aside. Milk and cereal exploded across the counter. ‘Nat?’ he exclaimed as he stood up, wild-eyed. ‘What the fuck
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