When Tess’s excited scuffle announced Devon’s arrival before he could knock at the door, Ella’s pulse began to misbehave in the most ridiculous way.
He’s just coming for a meal, she told herself sternly as she walked slowly and calmly back down the stairs to the front door. Tess was already there, chief ambassador for the official welcoming committee. Her tail was wagging with delight.
It was odd how even through a solid door the dog could tell friend from foe. How did she do that?
Ella opened the door, amused to find that her hand shook as she lifted the latch.
She found two crates of bottles on the doorstep and Devon coming down the path towards her with a final crate.
‘This is the last one.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Tombola?’
‘Oh, yes. Mum insisted I brought it over.’
With a broad grin, she took one of the crates from him, almost buckling at the weight. ‘Crikey, I didn’t know there were this many people in the village to donate so much stuff.’
Devon gave a wry grin. ‘Looking at some of the dodgier bottles, I think they’re recycled back into the tombola every year. This one,’ he inclined his head towards a bottle of red wine lodged on the top of the box he carried, ‘is for you, but if you wanted a different colour, we can always swap it.’
Ella shook her head. ‘Best stick with this, I think.’ She gave the bottles in the box a grimace. ‘I think we’d rather know what we’re dealing with and more importantly it will go perfectly with dinner.’
‘Something smells good.’
‘There’s enough of it.’ Ella gave him a dubious look. ‘You might be taking a food parcel or three home with you.’
Devon raised his eyebrows in question.
‘I’ve made bolognese sauce.’ She winced. ‘Quite a bit. A huge vat.’ It was no good. The laughter bubbled out. ‘Small weights and measures issue at the butchers.’
‘I’m intrigued. What on earth constitutes a weights and measures issue?’
With a sheepish frown, she asked, ‘Have you any idea how much meat there is in two and half kilograms?’
‘Yup.’ His voice rang with confidence, making Ella scrunch up her nose. He would. Of course he did. ‘It’s two thousand five hundred grams.’
‘Smart.’ She smiled and rolled her eyes. ‘It’s also an awful lot of raw mince. More than I’ve ever seen in my life. By the time I saw the butcher weighing out enough to feed ten armies, and he’d asked me three times if I was sure I wanted that much, I couldn’t admit I’d made a mistake.’ She was going to be living on spaghetti bolognese and lasagne for the next six months.
‘Good job, I love spag bol.’ Devon’s cheerful wink made her smile.
‘I didn’t say it was any good.’
‘It’s got to be better than my cooking or my mother’s.’
‘What, Audrey?’
‘She’s the only mother I’ve got.’
‘Audrey can’t cook? But she’s president of the WI. I thought cooking was mandatory.’
‘That’s why. She’s so busy she never has time to do it properly. The problem is she’ll start something and then become sidetracked, so recipes never quite work or they’re burnt or overcooked.’
Ella stifled a giggle, still not able to believe it. ‘Well, don’t get too excited.’
Although with the amount of tomatoes, onions, red wine and herbs that had gone into it, it ought to be bloody brilliant.
‘To be honest, at this point my stomach doesn’t care. Is it all right if I bring Dexter in with me? He’s in the car.’
As she said the words, ‘Of course,’ Ella marvelled at how much things had changed. Who’d have thought two months ago she’d be calmly inviting a second dog into her home? Let alone be living with one. And there was Tess’s excited bark. ‘It’s yes from me and a yes from Tess.’
Dexter burst through the door despite Devon’s restraining hand on his collar and even though he’d met Tess a million times before immediately homed in on her back end. Ella had to plant her feet firmly, so she didn’t get knocked over by Tess and Dexter’s excited tails sideswiping her with every manic circuit of her legs.
‘Dex, behave!’ said Devon, hauling on the exuberant dog’s collar. ‘Sit. Where are your manners? Leave Tess alone.’
The dog promptly sat. Plonking his full weight on Ella’s feet, panting up at her with adoration. Tess bounced up and down in excitement.
She gave his ears a quick ruffle and Tess immediately stuck her nose in, pushing at her hand in good-natured jealousy.
‘Don’t worry, I still love you.’ Ella shook her head and carried on stroking Dexter’s head. ‘But you, Dex,’ she complained, nudging him with her thigh and shuffling her feet out, ‘are heavy.’
‘Sorry,’ Devon grinned. ‘He just wants to be friends.’
‘I can see that, but my toes aren’t convinced.’ Ella wiggled her feet. ‘Come on through.’
Devon handed over the bottle of red wine and she promptly handed it back to him.
‘Actually, would you mind doing the honours? I need to put the pasta on. Corkscrew in the drawer by the bread bin.’
There was a loud clang as Devon, dodging the two dogs, tripped over Tess’s bowl in the middle of the kitchen floor.
Ella leaned down and scooped it up, taking it over to the far side of the kitchen where Tess’s bed and water bowl sat and opened the French doors to let the two mad dogs out. ‘Sorry, Tess is incapable of eating without chasing the bowl around the room.’
She crossed the room and opened the cupboard to pull out two wine glasses, horribly aware that her hands were shaking a little. ‘Honestly, she attacks her food as if it were her last meal ever. It’s a wonder she doesn’t go through the French doors. In fact, she eats so quickly, I think she just inhales the biscuits. She can’t possibly taste them. Although they look and smell so disgusting, you can hardly blame her.’
Devon raised an eyebrow at her sudden flow of words but calmly poured two rich ruby red glasses of wine and handed her one.
‘Thank you.’ Ella took a sip, while still on the move. ‘Sorry, you must be starving. I haven’t even got the water on to boil. Do sit down or would you rather go into the lounge and I can call you when it’s ready.’ Shut up, she told herself. Stop talking. Clamping her mouth shut, she busied herself putting the kettle on and trying to get into the pack of spaghetti. Since when had they put childproof packaging on pasta?
He leant back against the counter, watching her, and sipped at his wine.
‘You know you can get special slow dog bowls to stop them guzzling their food down.’
‘Really?’ Her fingers still wouldn’t work properly.
‘Yes. Just look them up on the internet. They work quite well.’ He put his glass down and gently removed the cellophane packet from her hand. ‘Here, let me.’
‘Thanks.’ She almost snatched the pasta from him when he was done. ‘I’m so going to get one for Tess.’
‘What sort of food do you give her?’
‘Vile horrible smelly biscuits.’ She nodded to the wooden pantry door. ‘They’re in there. You’ll smell them as soon as you open the door.’
‘Mind if I have a look?’
‘Be my guest.’ Him standing watching her was so unnerving.
The kettle had boiled and she filled a saucepan with the boiling water. As she took the bolognese sauce out of the fridge, she heard rustling from inside the cupboard. Devon was clearly taking this seriously. At last he came out, a noncommittal look on his face which clearly suggested he had a view but was trying to be diplomatic about it.
‘What?’ she asked a touch defensively.
‘Nothing.’ His face took on a guileless expression which didn’t fool her one bit.
‘What? And don’t give me nothing. You’ve got that look on your face.’
‘What look.’
‘The “I’m trying not to be patronising here but . . . ”’
‘That’s a look?’
‘Yes, that’s a look. One that know-it-all vets use on unsuspecting completely-new-at-this-dog-owning-lark people.’ She put her hands on her hips to emphasise her point.
‘Sorry.’ His apologetic grimace made her feel slightly better. ‘There’s nothing wrong with it, but you could do better. It’s quite a cheap brand and nutritionally OK but they’re using the cheapest ingredients, so the quality’s not that great. It’s fine, don’t get me wrong—’
‘But . . . ’
‘Tess would probably be better off with a dog food designed for bigger dogs.’
One more thing to feel guilty about, except this time it wasn’t her fault. ‘To be honest, I just carried on buying what she was already having.’ Who’d have realised that talking dog food could be so usefully distracting?
Ella looked out at Tess, who was still cavorting in the garden with Dexter. She looked much slimmer than she had a couple of weeks ago. ‘I guess she’d have voted with her feet if she wasn’t happy. She’s a lot fitter than when I got her.’
‘You’ve done wonders with her. The difference is quite incredible. Now, she’s glossy, bouncy and the picture of health.’ His gaze rested on her face, the expression on his face gentling.
Butterflies took flight, racing upwards, a fluttering sensation in her chest as he tilted his head to one side, his mouth twisting with suppressed amusement and that damned dimple appeared in his cheek.
Ella found it impossible to turn away, even though she had no idea where to look. Devon stepped forward, closing the gap between them, allowing a smile to curve his lips.
‘I wasn’t very nice to you that day. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did.’ The searing appraisal he gave her made her breath catch. ‘You’ve changed, too. You look . . . ’
‘Glossy? Bouncy? The picture of health?’ Ella couldn’t help filling in the words. Why couldn’t she just shut up?
‘All of those but . . . something else.’ He studied her face. The careful scrutiny, like a caress, making her heart leap in response. ‘Different. Content. Happy.’ His hand lifted and where his eyes had tracked, with each word he traced along her jawline.
She swallowed. Oh boy. Her heart bumped. Warmth bloomed in her chest.
‘You look like you.’
‘Me?’ She whispered, her breath catching in her throat.
‘Yes.’ He frowned, his eyes narrowing like he was working to solve an intriguing puzzle. ‘When you first came,’ his finger traced her forehead as if soothing away lines, ‘you were hidden. It was as if the real person was just peeking out now and then. Like a voice that’s grown croaky and rusty with disuse. It was like you’d forgotten how to be you.’
Her eyes widened. How could she be insulted when he peeled the layers back so beautifully to lay bare the truth?
‘This last few weeks, it’s like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis.’ With a sudden gear change, his eyes twinkled. ‘Actually, that’s not true at all, the other day with Patrick it was more like Muhammad Ali leaping out to sting like a bee.’ He leaned forward, putting his hands on her waist, and closing the gap between them.
Staring up at him, unable to break the gaze between them, she held her breath as he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. ‘You were quite something, Miss Rigden.’
Her heart fizzed and her nerve endings went on high alert, her answering smile uncontrollable as she saw the appreciative glint in his eye.
‘I shouldn’t condone violence, but I was so proud of you when you nailed him with that picture.’
With a shy smile, she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. ‘Me too.’
Kissing Devon felt new and strange but oh so right. It had been so long since she’d kissed anyone other than Patrick. If she’d had time to think about it she’d have worried about it but there was no chance to. They fitted. He was just the right height, his lips exerted just the right amount of pressure and he took his time in a long, slow, lazy exploration of her mouth as if he had all the time in the world and wasn’t going to be hurried on any account. He was thorough, very thorough and she sank into the kiss. Just feeling. Enjoying the sensations. Heavenly kisses. The warmth of lips on hers. Strong hands gentle at her waist. That extraordinarily beguiling sensation of being the absolute centre of someone’s focus. The kiss built in intensity but with no pressure, no sensation of being in a mad race of having a place to go. It was a meandering journey with no sense of having a destination. Of needing to be anywhere, to have to get anywhere. Ella wondered if it were possible for a kiss to last for ever.
With her eyes closed she took in a breath and stiffened at exactly the same moment as Devon. They pulled apart.
‘Ugh! What’s that smell?’ Ella realised Tess had padded back into the kitchen and stood gazing up at her and Devon, her head cocked to one side with a this-is-new tilt.
‘Oh, Tess!’ Devon screwed up his face, turning his head away. ‘Out. Go on.’ He pointed firmly at the dog who lowered her head. ‘Now. Outside.’
‘Pooh! What is that?’ asked Ella, the horrible stink now really taking a hold and making her feel quite sick.
‘Poo! Quite literally. It’s fox poo.’
‘Seriously? It’s vile.’ They caught each other’s eye and Ella broke first. She started to laugh. ‘Talk about a mood killer.’
‘I don’t suppose you have any dog shampoo?.’ He looked forlornly at the boiling pot of pasta.
She shook her head.
With a heavy sigh, he gave a brief kiss on her cheek. ‘I’ll go now and get some from the surgery. Be back in two minutes.’
After dinner, which wasn’t as romantic as it might have been, thanks to the two plaintive faces pressed up against the window, the shampooing commenced. Ella perked up when Devon filled up a bowl of warm water and stripped off his jumper to reveal a lean muscled chest in a navy T-shirt. Perhaps dog shampooing wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Thankfully only Tess had availed herself of the fox poo. Devon showed Ella how to rub the shampoo into the dog’s coat.
It was a messy business and by the end of it they were both soaked through.
When they came back into the kitchen leaving Tess outside to dry off, along with Dexter, Devon unselfconsciously stripped off his soaked T-shirt.
‘I’ll nip upstairs and change,’ said Ella, hoping she’d hidden her quick intake of breath. That was one nice body. ‘Do you want me to see if I can find something that might fit you?’
‘No, it’s fine. I’ll put my jumper back on.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Ella.
He grinned with a sudden gleam in his eyes. ‘Want me to leave it off?’
She swallowed and fled up the stairs.
When she came back down, Devon had taken their wine into the lounge and lit a fire. Grateful that he had put his jumper back on – she wouldn’t have known where to look – she stood with a touch of self-consciousness until he reached up and pulled her down to sit next to him on the sofa.
‘Well, that was fun,’ he teased.
‘Hmm. I’m not sure that was what you were expecting when I invited you for a meal.’
‘I’m not complaining.’ He slid an arm around her, drawing her closer. ‘Now where were we before your pesky dog interrupted us?’
She turned to face him. His face was so close she could see the tiny pricks of stubble starting to break through his skin and his eyes were still and watchful.
‘You OK?’ he asked, his voice gentle with a suggestion of hoarseness.
‘I am now.’
He lifted one hand to cup her face. The crackle of the fire suddenly seemed loud and her heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst through her chest. With a tiny exhale, an almost sigh, she opened her lips, unable to take her eyes from his.
Tracing a sure path, his hand slipped along her jaw and cupped her neck as he pulled her towards him. Their mouths met on a shared sigh.
Kissing Devon was like sliding slowly and languorously into the enveloping warmth of a hot scented bath, heating every bit of her, making her body pliable with longing. She wrapped her arms around him, her hand sliding into the hair at his nape, pressing her body up to his. He explored her mouth with thorough gentleness, his hand sliding through her hair while his other hand supported her back. The tender trace of his lips was intoxicating and addictive. The sense of wanting to gather him close and not let go almost overwhelmed her.
Together they settled into a more comfortable position and at last drew apart. Ella’s breath seemed to have stalled somewhere in her chest and her blood sizzled as she gazed into his face. A flush seared her cheekbones, all her nerve endings tingling and dancing in delight.
‘Wow.’ She didn’t know what else to say. Giddy elation whirled through her system as the enormity of the kiss sank in. Different to any other, it felt grown-up and precious. One that went somewhere and could lead to more. As she looked at Devon, certainty settled in her heart with horrible intrusion. She could love this man.
And that was the last thing either of them needed.
He leaned forward to touch his forehead against hers in a silent heartfelt salute.
‘Wow, indeed. That’s quite a thank you-for-cleaning-my-dog kiss. Maybe I should give Tess a treat. I owe her.’
She eased back to make sure he could see her face, the moment weighted with sudden seriousness. ‘It should be a thank-you-for-everything kiss. You were so kind up at the Beacon, talking really helped. It was the first time I’d been able to speak about it and it was like lancing a boil. I feel so much better. You really helped.’
‘You didn’t need saving.’ Devon traced her lips with a single finger. ‘Just waking up.’
Ella smiled. ‘I can see you hacking through the forest to rescue Sleeping Beauty.’
‘I’m no knight in shining armour. Marina certainly wouldn’t agree.’ He sobered for a second.
She put a hand over his.
He sighed and she could almost see him pushing the negative thoughts away. ‘Where you’re concerned, I just seem to be in the right place at the right time.’ He paused and then added wickedly. ‘Although with all the scrapes you get yourself into, it’s not exactly difficult.’ The arm he snaked around her waist to pull her into him robbed the words of any sting.
‘I never used to . . . do such stupid things in London.’ She shook her head. ‘Life there was so much narrower. Funny, you always think that a city is where everything is going on, where it’s all happening, but actually the scope is quite limited.’
‘What do you mean?’ Devon put his wine glass down, looking interested.
‘You stay within your confines. The world you construct and you’re so used to it, that it creates its own boundaries. You restrict yourself.
‘I got so used to the galleries we went to. The art we saw. The people I mixed with. I forgot there was a much broader spectrum out there. Another way of seeing or doing things. I was so bound by habit. I stopped questioning anything for myself.
‘You asked me “what is art?” I looked it up. There are loads and loads of definitions. Some dead simple, some so pretentious and laborious. For me it has to be simple. Thomas Merton expressed it beautifully, “Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.”’
Devon nodded. ‘I like that. Do you think you’ve found yourself?’ The direct question hovered between them, suddenly full of import. To her, anyway; his face gave nothing away.
Her heart hitched. ‘I’m certainly on the way.’
He tilted his head, listening, encouraging her to go on. She loved that about him. He knew when not to talk.
‘When I came here . . . well, you know what it was like. This was a prison sentence. I was miserable, so I came here not expecting anything. Just to ride out my misery.’
Devon nodded and looked down at his hands. She waited until he lifted his head again, meeting his eyes with her steady gaze.
‘To hide away and hope that all the problems would vanish while I wasn’t looking directly at them.’ She gave a half-laugh. ‘Life doesn’t work like that, does it?’
Devon’s lips twisted. ‘Sadly not. It’s easier to hide. Easier to bury your head. Distract yourself. But it doesn’t solve the problem.’
Distraction was his tool. Running away was hers. They were both as bad as one another.
‘Yeah.’ With a sigh she picked up her wine glass to take a sip, before adding sadly, ‘But at some point, you have to face it and sort everything out.’
‘This,’ he touched her lips, a sad smile playing at his mouth, ‘is probably muddying the waters.’ He paused before adding, ‘For both of us.’
His words caused a funny hollowness in her chest.
‘So what’s happening with Marina?’ Despite the bluntness of her question Devon didn’t seem to mind. She studied his face in relief as he watched the flames of the fire.
‘Same as ever. I get daily emails from her asking what the progress is. Putting the pressure on. At first I wasn’t quite sure what she expects me to do. I can’t magic the money up from thin air. Then I realised she’s decided she wants me back and this is her means to do it. The only way to make my debt disappear is to go back.’
‘And you don’t want to.’
His face closed down, a stern expression telling her all she needed to know. ‘Absolutely not. I considered it. Would have been easier. To go back to the status quo but once you realise something’s broken, it’s really hard, if not impossible, to fix.’ He sighed. ‘Now that I’m here and away from the day to day life, I know I couldn’t go back. I wasn’t happy but I didn’t know it at the time.’ He touched her face. ‘Does that sound familiar?’
With a lightness of heart, Ella nodded. ‘Yes. I wasn’t unhappy but I wasn’t as happy as I could be. Coming here wasn’t what I wanted at all.’
‘Me neither. I’ll stay for now but it is temporary.’ With a candid look, he straightened. ‘Sorry. This . . . ’ he spread his hands out. ‘I shouldn’t have . . . kissed you.’
‘Devon, it’s fine. I’d rather you were honest. This, staying in the village, is a stopgap, for me as much as you. I’ve no idea what I’m going to do. I said I’d stay for six months.’
‘I . . . like you, a lot.’ He pulled a face. ‘That sounds pathetic. What I’m trying to say is, I want to spend time with you but there’s no . . . sounds callous, happy ever after, but at the same time, if I said it’s just casual, that sounds shallow and empty and I can’t do that either.’
Ella laid a finger on his lips. ‘I thought women overthought things. Why don’t we just enjoy each other’s company, while we figure out our own lives? I don’t expect anything from you.’ She trailed her finger down his chin and laid her hand on his chest. ‘Well, perhaps the odd thing.’
‘Dessert maybe.’
His pulse leapt at the husky tone in her voice.
‘Dessert, I can handle.’
Yup, he could definitely handle that. So why did her previous words, agreeing with him, dammit, cause a twinge of regret that twisted in his gut? Having a bloody protective streak a mile wide had a lot to answer for. He had a feeling the type of things she expected from a man were the sort of things he could give without too much effort if his circumstances were different.
Her fingers had found their way to bare flesh, so he leaned back, pulling her with him, as they skimmed just above the waistband of his jeans.
‘Who are you calling odd?’ he asked, feathering a kiss at the side of her lips. ‘I might have to prove there’s nothing odd about me.’
‘I might just have to let you.’
Dimly he heard the crackle of the fire in the background as he settled into her, their kisses deepening as daylight slipped away outside.