I was in a daze. Had that really happened? It was possible it had been a dream. Had I drifted off to sleep and imagined it all?

No matter how much I tried to convince myself, I knew the truth. He’d helped me to the bathroom and then he’d pulled my panties down to my ankles. His hands had slid up my skirt and I’d done nothing to stop him. I’d not said a word. I had just stood there and let it happen.

His hands on my thighs, sliding inch by inch down my legs, his face just in front of my skirt. I should have told him to stop. I should have asked him what the hell he thought he was doing. I didn’t.

He told me to sit and I did. I couldn’t disobey him, that voice was all authority. I could only do as he told me. I sat. I peed in front of him, in front of a man I hardly knew. I’d never done that in front of any man. It was too embarrassing.

And it hadn’t ended there. When I was done, his eyes on me the entire time, he slid my panties back up, my skirt lifting as he did so, my chest heaving, my heart jumping into my throat. I felt so afraid but not of him.

I was afraid of the intensity of it all, how the room seemed full of tension, the air thin, all sound stopping but my own labored breathing as he remained on his knees for a brief moment, my pussy tingling at the closeness of him.

He helped me back to bed. Could he tell how wet I was? How much I was aching with need? For the briefest moment I could have sworn he was going to kiss me but then he was gone and I was alone again.

It was evening when he returned. I had slept, the medication Dr Montgomery had given me making me drowsy. I woke up from a dreamless sleep to a knock on the door. I sat up slowly, glancing at the time. Half six. I’d been asleep a good couple of hours. “Come in.”

The door opened and there he was. At once, my nipples began to stiffen, my fingers trembling under the blankets.

“I wanted to see how you’re feeling,” he said, walking across to me, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Desperate for you to be inside me, I thought. “Getting there,” I said out loud. “Are you all right? You look stressed out.”

“I’ve just been to the bank.”

“And?”

“You don’t want to know. It’s boring.”

“Try me.”

“Maybe later. I wondered if you’d like to go for a walk.”

“I’d love to but...” I pointed at my leg.

“I have a solution for that.”

“For my leg? You’re not going to amputate it, are you?”

“Better. Wait there.”

He got up and left and I felt strangely disappointed, missing him already. It was ridiculous. I was only here for another couple of days. He was trying to sell the place. I had no reason to get close to him, nothing could happen.

I couldn’t help my reaction though, my subconscious working harder than I could control, making me want him back before I even knew what was happening.

He was only gone a couple of minutes, returning with a crash, the door thudding open as he pushed something into the room.

“What is that?” I asked, looking down at the wicker and wheels and trying to work it out.

“A Bath chair.”

“And what’s a Bath chair?”

“It was my grandparents. I think it’ll be perfect for getting you outside.”

“It’s like a wheelchair?”

“Exactly that. Want to give it a try?”

“As long as you’re not going to push me downstairs in it.”

I started laughing as he lifted me out of the bed, lowering me into the seat, his hand lingering on my legs for just a moment before he let go. “Comfortable?”

“I guess so.”

“Then let’s go.”

He moved behind me and began to push. The wheels creaked but then started to move and I was driven out off the bedroom, heading for the staircase. “What’s the plan?” I asked when we got to the top.

“This,” he said, lifting the entire chair with me in it.

I let out a squeal of surprise, grabbing onto his jacket as he began to walk down, carrying me and the chair as if we weighed nothing at all.

Once we reached the floor, he put me down again, pushing me along the hall towards a door at the far end. “Where does that go?” I asked.

“The garden,” he replied. “Let me know if you get cold.”

He stopped to open the door before lifting me again down to the path outside. It was beautiful out there. Flowers were in bloom, the trees offering shade from the evening sun. “How do you handle the weather?” I asked. “Yesterday, snow and rain, today this.”

“You just get used to it,” he replied. “What do you think?”

I looked around me as we turned a corner, passing by a sweet smelling rose bush. “I think it’s beautiful.”

“The grounds used to be immaculate,” he said, nudging at the overgrown grass encroaching on the path. “There was a full time team of gardeners when the Bath chair was last used.”

“What happened to them?”

“Money,” he said bluntly, sounding sad. “It’s a shadow of its former self.

I could see what he meant as we continued on our way. There was a pond that was dried up, a thorny mass of weeds growing out of the middle of it. In the middle was a crumbling statue. Beyond that, the edge of the garden was bordered by a dry stone wall but that too was crumbling, gaps big enough in places for the sheep to wander in and chew the flowers.

Past the wall were the outlines of a couple of fields but they contained only weeds.

“Maybe you could make it like that again,” I said as we stopped by a wooden bench that had slumped heavily to one side, the wood rotten and green.

“It would take a lifetime,” he replied before falling silent for a moment. “I saw photos of how it used to look.”

“I saw them too. In the book about the castle.”

“So you know how much better it was.”

“It could be like that again. You could hire a gardener, get it into shape.”

“There’s no money.”

“There might be.”

“What?” he asked, moving to the front of the chair, looking down at me. “What are you talking about?”

“Have you forgotten my proposition?”

“What proposition?”

“The reason I’m here.”

“Which is?”

I took a deep breath before explaining. “I work for Gold Standard Productions. We’re looking for a location to shoot at and I think this is perfect. We’ll pay you to let us film here. What do you think?”

He didn’t say anything for a long time. He just looked out at the distant mountains. I was about to say something when he suddenly spoke. “When would it happen?”

“The filming? I can’t be sure but probably in the summer next year.

“It’ll be sold by then.”

“But what if you don’t have to sell? We’re talking a lot of money for this, plus you’ll get a huge publicity boost.”

“I’ll think about it. Come on, let’s move on. I want to show you the walled garden.”

He pushed and I steered, using the little handle by my knees. As long as I kept my legs still, my ankle didn’t hurt beyond a dull ache. Another day or so and I’d be well enough to walk on it. Then I would have to return to L.A and tell Eli I’d either done my job or failed completely.

We weaved our way through an avenue of cherry trees before passing through an arch in a brick wall. On the other side was the stunning faded grandeur of a walled garden straight out of a period drama. It only took a slight imaginative leap to see it how it used to be, the rows of herbs and flowers, the fruit trees, the vines pushing through broken greenhouse windows.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. There’s lemon balm there, sage, oregano, apple trees. I can’t even think how long it took to train that vine along there.”

“You know what these things are? I thought you were a location scout, not a gardener.”

“Cut them back, get the weeds cleared over there and then those lavenders will sort themselves out. Replace the glass and you’ll have grapes whenever you want. What, why are you smiling at me?”

“Because I like to see someone with passion about things. I’ve never seen anyone so enthusiastic about this place. My parents didn’t care for it.”

“I can’t understand that. I could spend a lifetime just in here.”

I glanced up and all of a sudden his face was pressing against mine, his lips hot on my own. I closed my eyes, my breath caught in my lungs. It was a kiss that had come from nowhere. It lasted an eternity but all too soon, he pulled his lips away, moving back behind the chair. “I should take you in,” he said. “It’s about to start raining.”

“How can you tell?” I asked, looking up at the cloud just crossing over the sun. Had that kiss just happened? He was acting as if things were the same but my entire world had shifted, my lips still tingling from the moment we’d just shared.

 “You just can round here.”

“It’s not going to rain.”

We were halfway back to the house and he was moving faster. “You’ll see.”

Just as we got back to the castle, I felt the first drops hitting my legs.

“Told you,” he said, lifting me into the castle just as the heavens opened and it started to hammer down outside.

“I’ll never get used to this weather,” I said as he wheeled me into the smoking room.

“Reckon you can get into your armchair?” he asked.

“Let’s see,” I replied.

He held out a hand and I stood up, wincing as I did so.

“You all right?”

“I think I can walk on it.”

I had to limp but I made it to the armchair, sinking into it as if I’d just finished a marathon.

“Well done,” he said, a smile playing across his lips.

“Mr King,” a woman’s voice said in the doorway.

I turned to see the housekeeper standing there, not smiling. “A Mr Seabert called. Asked you to ring him back.”

He nodded before turning back to me. “To be continued.” He headed out after her, leaving me alone. I reached across for the book I’d been reading about the history of the castle. Flicking through the old black and white photos, I caught hints of the glory of the place, how it used to be.

I was an idiot to get too attached. I was here to do a job. I needed his consent and I needed to get back home.

I put the book down when the bell rang for dinner. I thought he might come back to wheel me through but there was no sound of footsteps out there.

I gave him a few minutes before getting to my feet. I leaned on the chair, testing my ankle. When I was sure I could put weight on it, I limped slowly through to the dining room.