we’re here.’ They were now in a village and she could see that it barely encompassed a handful of shops, in between and around which radiated small houses, the sort of houses found in books depicting the perfect English country village. The bed and breakfast was a tiny semi-detached house, very easily bypassed were it not for the sign swinging outside, barely visible under the snow.
It was very late and the roads were completely deserted. Even the bed and breakfast was plunged in darkness, except for two outside lights which just about managed to illuminate the front of the house and a metre or two of garden in front.
With barely contained resignation, Luiz pulled up outside and killed the engine.
‘It looks wonderful,’ Aggie breathed, taken with the creamy yellow stone and the perfectly proportioned leaded windows. She could picture the riot of colour in summer with all manner of flowers ablaze in the front garden and the soporific sound of the bees buzzing between them.
‘Sorry?’ Luiz wondered whether they were looking at the same house.
‘ ’Course, I would rather not be here with you,’ Aggie emphasised. ‘But it’s beautiful. Especially with the snow on the ground and on the roof. Gosh, it’s really deep as well! That’s the one thing I really miss about living in the south. Snow.’
On that tantalising statement, she flung open the car door and stepped outside, holding her arms out wide and her head tilted up so that the snow could fall directly onto her face.
In the act of reaching behind him to extract their cases, Luiz paused to stare at her. She had pulled some fingerless gloves out of her coat pocket and stuck them on and standing like that, arms outstretched, she looked young, vulnerable and achingly innocent, a child reacting to the thrill of being out in the snow.
Beside the point what she looks like, he told himself, breaking the momentary spell to get their bags. She was pretty. He knew that. He had known that from the very first second he had set eyes on her. The world was full of pretty women, especially his world, which was not only full of pretty women but pretty women willing to throw themselves at him.
Aggie began walking towards the house, her feet sinking into the snow, and only turned to look around when he had slammed shut the car door and was standing in front of it, a bag in either hand—his mega-expensive bag, her forlorn and cheaply made one which had been her companion from the age of fourteen when she had spent her first night at a friend’s house.
He looked just so incongruous. She couldn’t see his expression because it was dark but she imagined that he would be bewildered, removed from his precious creature comforts and thrown into a world far removed from the expensive one he occupied. A bed and breakfast with just five bedrooms, only two of which were en suite! What a horror story for him! Not to mention the fact that he would have to force himself to carry on being polite to the sister of an unscrupulous opportunist who was plotting to milk his niece for her millions. He was lead actor in the middle of his very worst nightmare and as he stood there, watching her, she reached down to scoop up a handful of snow, cold and crisp and begging to be moulded into a ball.
All her anger and frustration towards him and towards herself for reacting to him when she should be able to be cool and dismissive went into that throw, and she held her breath as the snowball arched upwards and travelled with deadly accuracy towards him, hitting him right in the middle of that broad, muscled, arrogant chest.
She didn’t know who was more surprised. Her, for having thrown it in the first place, or him for being hit for the first time in his life by a snowball. Before he could react, she turned her back and began plodding to the front door.
He deserved that, she told herself nervously. He was insulting, offensive and dismissive. He had accused her and her brother in the worst possible way of the worst possible things and had not been prepared to nurture any doubts that he might be wrong. Plus he had had the cheek to make her question herself when she hadn’t done anything wrong!
Nevertheless, she didn’t want to look back over her shoulder for fear of seeing what his reaction might be at her small act of resentful rebellion.
‘Nice shot!’ she heard him shout, at which she began to turn around when she felt the cold, wet compacted blow of his retaliation. She had launched her missile at his chest and he had done the same, and his shot was even more faultless than hers had been.
Aggie’s mouth dropped open and she looked at him incredulously as he began walking towards her.
‘Good shot. Bull’s eye.’ He grinned at her and he was transformed, the harsh, unforgiving lines of his face replaced by a sex appeal that was so powerful that it almost knocked her sideways. The breath caught in her throat and she found that she was staring up at him while her thoughts tumbled around as though they had been tossed into a spin drier turned to full speed.
‘You too,’ was all she could think of saying. ‘Where did you learn to throw a snowball?’
‘Boarding school. Captain of the cricket team. I was their fast bowler.’ He rang the doorbell but he didn’t take his eyes from her face. ‘Did you think that I was so pampered that I wouldn’t have been able to retaliate?’ he taunted softly.
‘Yes.’ Her mouth felt as though it was stuffed with cotton wool. Pampered? Yes, of course he was…and yet a less pampered man it would have been hard to find. How did that make sense?
‘Where did you learn to throw a shot like that? You hit me from thirty metres away. Through thick snow and poor visibility.’
Aggie blinked in an attempt to gather her scattered wits, but she still heard herself say, with complete honesty, ‘We grew up with snow in winter. We learned to build snowmen and have snowball fights and there were always lots of kids around because we were raised in a children’s home.’
Deafening silence greeted this remark. She hadn’t planned on saying that, but out it had come, and she could have kicked herself. Thankfully she was spared the agony of his contempt by the door being pulled open and they were ushered inside by a short, jolly woman in her sixties who beamed at them as though they were much expected long-lost friends, even though it was nearly ten and she had probably been sound asleep.
Of course there was room for them! Business was never good in winter…just the one room let to a long-standing resident who worked nearby during the week…not that there was any likelihood that he would be leaving for his home in Yorkshire at the weekend…not in this snow…had they seen anything like it…?
The jovial patter kept Aggie’s turbulent thoughts temporarily at bay. Regrettably, one of the en suite rooms was occupied by the long-standing resident who wouldn’t be able to return to Yorkshire at the weekend. As she looked brightly between them to see who would opt for the remaining en suite bedroom, Aggie smiled innocently at Luiz until he was forced to do the expected and concede to sharing a bathroom.
She could feel him simmering next to her as they were proudly shown the sitting room, where there was ‘a wide assortment of channels on the telly because they had recently had cable fitted’. And the small breakfast room where they could have the best breakfast in the village, and also dinner if they would like, although because of the hour she could only run to sandwiches just now…
Aggie branched off into her own, generously proportioned and charming bedroom and nodded blandly when Luiz informed her that he would see her in the sitting room in ten minutes. They both needed something to eat.
There
