It was nearly an hour later when they stole out of Litton Manor to her cottage, him carrying a bottle of prosecco and a plateful of nibbles that he’d found in the fridge, and Sorrell with glasses and a couple of bottles of beer, knowing that he was likely to be bored of the fizzy stuff after a glass or two, but would be too much of a gentleman to say.

It was a clear night, the snow having held off yet again, but frost was promised judging by the lack of cloud cover and the myriad of stars. There was a twinkle on the stone hard ground that seemed almost magical as the moonlight caught it, like fairies had left a trail leading to treasure.

“I loved living here at this time of year,” Zack said, standing at the threshold of the doorway. “It was quiet and I felt like I was escaping from the chaos.”

“Was it always busy?”

The door opened, heat from the cottage spilling out. She’d timed the heating to come on so it would be warm for when she finished at the wedding, knowing that she’d need to sit up for a good hour or two and wind down before attempting sleep.

“The night shifts weren’t. They were almost relaxing to do, although…” He shook his head, taking off his boots once the door behind him was shut.

“Although what?” she said, pretty sure she knew what he was going to say.

Zack laughed. “You might think it’s mad.”

She shook her head. “My parents are pagans. I’ve celebrated every solstice and festival you can imagine. You’re going to tell me it’s haunted, aren’t you?”

He shrugged, looking coy. “I never believed in anything like that till I worked here. When I told my brothers and Jake about it they didn’t let it drop. That first Halloween the three of them dressed up in white sheets and pretended to haunt me for the evening.”

“I bet you took that well.” She undid the bottle.

He removed it from her. “You’ve done enough of that today. I dared them to sleepover in the home one evening and do a Ouija board. They all found an excuse.”

“So what did you see while you were here?”

The bottle popped open. “Are you sure you want to know?” he said, looking amused.

“Tell me. Then I can be prepared. Maybe call Ghostbusters or something.” She accepted the glass he poured and went to sit down on the overly large, over stuffed sofa. It was unsightly and needed either reupholstering or burning, but she liked it. It was good to fall asleep on after reading a few chapters of her latest book.

“The lift,” he said, sitting down next to her, within touching distance. “It goes up and down of its own accord and it isn’t an electrical fault—we had it checked by three different electricians. The corridor upstairs—the doors will close and open without human intervention. And there was once when a resident called Mrs Johnson looked at the stairs and said hello to her husband, as did the carer with her, forgetting that Mr Johnson had died two years previously.”

Sorrell nodded. None of this bothered her. She’d grown up with seances and Ouija boards, with the occasional witch popping in for dinner. As much as she was a city girl, she’d been exposed to a very alternative belief system, goddess bless.

“Any objects sent flying or moved? Doors locked? Strange lights moving or people in bedrooms at night?” she said, knowing that any of the above could indicate something more malevolent and the need for a medium. She might do that anyway—bring someone in for a spot of ghost hunting, invite Gwensi and maybe Keren. The Maynards, too—if they were brave enough.

“None of that. Apart from objects being moved,” he said. “And it was all okay really. Photos got shifted round, a book might be opened to a certain page, that sort of thing. Nothing nasty. But enough to make some of the staff only walk round at night in pairs.”

Sorrell snuggled down into the sofa, enjoying the bubbles and the sound of his voice. She missed cosy evenings in with someone, hearing someone else’s voice instead of just her own thoughts. There had been times like that with Mark, the evenings when they had planned the hotel venture and discussed how they’d wanted it to look and how they’d specialise in certain things, like weddings, small, boutique weddings, just like today had been. Now she wasn’t sure if it had been his idea or hers, given that it was her who was living it.

“I haven’t seen or heard anything since I moved here,” she said. “How about the big cottage? What’s the story behind that?”

“It hasn’t been used in a long time,” Zack explained. “We thought about turning it into staff quarters but there was never the need. And then maybe extending it, but it was a bit too far away from the main house and we’d have had to station at least one carer there at all times. I thought about moving in there and renovating it, but it seemed pointless. I didn’t need something that big for just me.”

“And your girlfriends,” she teased.

He laughed but didn’t deny it. She’d heard a little about his exes from Rayah in the past few days. Zack wasn’t the romancer that Jake was, but the only reason he didn’t have a reputation was because Jake had eclipsed him. “Maybe. It was too much of a trek up here though,” he said. “Scott had a spare apartment over the bar; that was a great place to fall after a night out.”

“It’s good to see you don’t deny your past.” She was nonplussed by it. Everyone had a past, including her. Hers was just a little more sedate than Zack’s had probably been. “But then in a small town, it’s probably documented in the local newspaper.”

He laughed. “Kind of. Just ask Gran. I think she knows everything everyone’s ever done in the last two decades. But what about you? You looked thoughtful when I came in before. I’m guessing it’s because of your wedding?”

Sorrell nodded. “Friday December thirteenth.”

“Let me take you out that day.”

She looked at him, questioning whether he was right in the head or not. “I should be out getting drunk with my girlfriends.”

He shrugged. “Why? So you can do a bit of man bashing and talk about how shit your ex was? If I didn’t think you were already over him, that would be a good idea.”

“I’m over him. What I’m not over is how quickly I got over the person I was meant to marry. I’m pretty sure I should still be plotting to sew prawns in the hems of his curtains or something like that.”

“Can you sew?”

”No. But’s that’s not the point.”

“Are you the type of woman who holds a grudge?”

She shook her head. “I don’t forget, but I don’t judge people by their past actions. Only myself for not using information to make a wise decision.”

“Let me take you out on the thirteenth,” he repeated. “Make it the beginning of something new. Let yourself move on. Even if it’s not going to be me you move on with, don’t keep on grieving for something you don’t need to mourn.”

She rested her head back and nursed her glass. “I don’t want to do anything fancy,” she said. “I’d rather just stay here in Severton.”

“Are you taking the day off or can you?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Why? I’m not good with surprises, Zack.”

“It’s eleven days before Christmas Eve. That means something Christmas-like will be going on in Severton. I can’t go far anyway—I’m on call that day,” he said.

“When aren’t you on call?” she said with a grin.

He shook his head. “Not for Sunrise; for mountain rescue.”

“Seriously? How did I not know this?” Sorrell sat up and pinned him down with her eyes.

“Half the town is involved in it, pretty much. I’m not one of the main guys—my dad is though. But Jake, Scott, Rayah and Alex are all trained to do it. We grew up here and we know the hills and the caves well. Jake and Scott are both cave divers too, so when we all ended up back here, we signed up to be volunteers,” he said without any show.

“There are caves?” she said. “Of course there are—I have the underground river in my guide for guests.”

“And you haven’t done it yet?” he said with a smirk. “You need to try out our tourist attractions, Sorrell. Then you’ll be able to advise your guests.”

She felt her shoulders relax and laughed properly for what felt like the first time in months. “Are you suggesting I try out Jake and maybe Scott? According to the non-gay bridesmaid, they’re definitely part of the tourist attractions round here.”

He pinched his lips, probably to stop himself from smiling, possibly to stop himself from berating his brother and cousin.

“Maybe I need to, you know, to give my single guests some advice on the local wildlife,” she teased. He had edged closer to her, close enough that she could easily touch him like she wanted to, if she had the courage. Because as well as her wedding date, Mark had taken some of that where men were concerned too.

His finger touched her lips to silence her. “Never speak of my brothers and cousin in such terms again. Else I’ll be disposing of their bodies in a cave.” His words were smooth and his voice was husky. She heard need in it and desire and felt half-shy and half-wanton, a contradictory mix.

Something—the Gwensi-ness in her—made her touch his fingers with her tongue, her eyes focused on his face to read his expression.

It was one of lust and need, her heart rate rising as she saw his pupils dilate and the smirk become something sultry.

She took his wrist in her free hand, lightly holding it and then guided the tip of his middle finger to her mouth, softly biting it and then applying the slightest bit of suction for just a second before releasing his hand.

He didn’t say anything, leaving his hand where he had let it fall on the tops of her thighs, close enough to her centre to make her pussy clench. Then his fingers trailed up, slowly, as if he was memorising every centimetre of her skin through her sweater.

The silence clung around them, not even the faint murmur of music to break the intensity of the moment. His hand paused just below her breast and she wondered what his next move would be. He was hesitant, unsure, as if he was stroking a feral cat who would run skittishly away so she seized the moment and stole his hand, interlacing her fingers with his and studying the contrast between their skin tones; hers pale against his darker hand, as if he had been grown in the fields and permanently claimed by the sun.

Then he moved, scooping her up under her legs and depositing her on his lap, the last of the prosecco spilling over the sides of her glass, making her laugh.

He still said nothing, instead picking up her hand and inspecting it, as if questioning its viability of being real. Then the soft skin on the top of her hand was raised to his lips and he brushed them against it, the gentle sensation enough to elicit a slight gasp from her. She felt him smile then press a kiss against her before running his mouth down to her little finger and taking it in his own mouth and sucking as if she was the tastiest morsel to ever enter his mouth.

Zack removed her hand, keeping hold of it and replaced it with her lips, keeping the kiss slow and light, sucking softly on them. He kept hold of her hand, using the other to thread his fingers through her hair, keeping her mouth pressed to his.

She had never been kissed like this, as if she was someone’s first taste of chocolate.

“I want to stay,” he said, once he broke away, his hands still on her. “I want to make you forget all about your ex and any idea you had of being married to him but if I do that tonight I’m worried it will just be one night.”

She shook her head, words not within her capability at the moment. But her hands were working at capacity. She put her glass on the floor, not caring if it was knocked over and took the bottom of his sweater in both hands, pulling it over his head.

He laughed, but she didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, her hands went to work on ridding him of his T-shirt, exposing his broad chest with a smattering of hair across it, growing denser down the centre of his stomach and trailing down to his belt and beyond. His stomach was firm and defined, the result of being active rather than hours at the gym.

She met his eyes, feeling her face flush even more. He was assessing her reaction, clearly proud of how he looked but curious as to her judgement.

Sorrell didn’t use her words. Instead she used her fingers to trail across his chest, slowly reading his skin as if she would discover all his hidden secrets.

“Sorrell,” he said, his voice husky. “I have my limits and right now you’re close to pushing them.”

“What will you do?” She heard courage finally cracking through her voice. “If I push them?”

His hands moved hers away so he could pull off her top, exposing her bra and pale skin. She didn’t try to hide. She wasn’t flawless, but she was confident enough to be proud of what he was looking at. High breasts captured in a pretty white bra that gave her enough cleavage to lose an earring in. It was low cut, barely covering the edge of her nipples and she watched him as he looked his fill, feeling wetness pool between her thighs, soaking her panties.

“Take it off,” he said. “I want to see.”

The power was hers, both to undo the garment if she chose and then afterwards. Her hands shifted to the front clasp and undid it, letting her breasts spill out.

Immediately, his mouth was on a nipple, his tongue using the same tenderness that he had applied to her lips. Her hands went to his head, combing through his hair pulling slightly as he left one nipple and tended to the other, one of his hands pinching the nipple he’d just left and eliciting a moan from her mouth.

She felt his grin against her flesh, another flash of wetness soaking her.

He moved away, looking at her face and then at her tits, his hands cupping both, weighing them. Her nipples were hard and puckered, eager for more of his attention. Then they went south, undoing her trousers. Sorrell lifted her hips, allowing him to pull her pants down along with her panties, leaving her bare.

For a moment, he looked at her, spreading her legs so he could see her most intimate parts. Then he sunk to his knees on the floor, the brief clattering of a glass suggesting that she should’ve finished the prosecco but that was her last reasonable thought as that tongue found her clit and that gentle suction he’d applied to her fingers started to pull a much needed climax from her.

His hands moved up to find her nipples, pulling and pinching as he licked and sucked and then she was ripped apart, coming in his mouth, her hips jerking and the silence broken with her cries.

Zack moved away slowly, licking her moisture from the sides of her legs, pushing his tongue into her pussy and giving her clit one last suck.

Before he could say anything, she managed to force movement into her legs and shifted her weight, moving him backwards onto the floor.

Her hands went to his belt and fly, undoing and shifting the fabric that was stopping her from returning the favour.

“Ells,” he said, using Gwensi’s nickname for her. “You don’t need…”

“Take them off,” she said. “And don’t tell me what I do and don’t need to do.”

His speed at taking them off was possibly record breaking.

Then she took her fill of looking at him. He had a cock big enough to make her wonder how it would fit and how she was going to get it in her mouth without dislocating her jaw.

Sorrell put her hand around the base, feeling his hardness. He was on his back, using his elbows to prop himself up so he could watch. She felt the warm air from the room on the wetness of her pussy as she bent down to take his cock in her mouth.

His expression, she suspected, mirrored how hers had looked as she used her hands and mouth to bring him to the edge and then slow him back, making him groan. He fell to his back, his hands in her hair as he guided her, showing her what he liked.

She felt him become harder, his hips moving with less control and she sensed he was about to come. Forgetting about any shyness or even herself, she pulled her mouth away, sitting back, still grasping his cock.

“Move over me,” she said.

He looked at her as if she was the centre of his world at this very point in time and came to his knees, placing his hands on the edge of the sofa and shifting above her so his cock pointed at her breasts.

She continued to move her hand firmly, rhythmically, up and down, keeping the same pressure, directing it so he would cover her tits when he came. Between her legs throbbed again and she slipped her inactive hand there, rubbing her clit.

“Holy fuck, Ells. ” He looked down to her hand, covered in her own juices, moving with the same tempo as the one on his cock.

Her words were still absent, her lips parted, eyes hooded and heavy with arousal. Zack moved one hand off the sofa and placed a finger at the entrance to her pussy.

It took one digit to make her come, her orgasm starting his and he ejaculated over her tits, lines of semen gathering in between them. For a moment, she saw him freeze, looking at her eyes and then his mark.

“Shit,” he said.

She was worried until she saw his smile start to grow. “Thank you for the gift,” she said. “A pearl necklace.”

He leaned down and kissed her, the sweet having a little spice added to it. Then his laugh became dirty. “I should get you showered. I’ve made you messy.”

They both glanced in between them, the fluid starting to dry. “I think I had a hand in it.”

Then the laughter started again, her breasts bouncing, his hands going to her hips, holding them, his fingers gentle although his grip was firm.

“Do you want to stay?” she said tentatively.

“Yes,” he said. “But I guess I was hoping for a longer courting period than this. With maybe a proper date. And all this I can sleep in your bed but we won’t do anything is a load of bollocks. If I’m in your bed, I’ll be in something else as well.”

He went to his knees and started to stand up, taking her by her hand and helping her to her feet.

“I never expected you to be kind of old fashioned,” she said, aware of the mess they had created. “Are your family aware of this side of you?”

“I wasn’t aware of it myself until just now.” His face sobered. “I’m not trying to leave you or ghost you or anything. Fuck, I’ll bring you breakfast if you want. I’d just like…”

She smiled, at his words, at the situation, at the fact that they were having a serious conversation while both completely naked. “It’s cool,” she said. “It’s something to look forward to.”

“So I can take you out on the thirteenth?”

“As long as it includes getting naked again.”

Sorrell checked her phone, setting an alarm and sending Zack a final text back before she went to sleep. He’d showered with her, which had included a thorough cleaning with an extra orgasm and then she’d gone down on him properly, letting him come in her mouth and enjoying how he looked at her afterwards like she was a goddess.

His leaving had been hard. The door to the cottage had been open for about fifteen minutes before he finally went to his car. Soft, tender kisses; more touching; gentle words and promises and it still hadn’t felt like enough.

Sorrell went to the bedroom feeling like she had glided there rather than walked and slipped in between the sheets. Her phone had rung almost immediately. Zack, telling her about a deer he’d seen next to the road, how it was icy, should he sort snow tyres for her car…

She’d smiled as he spoke, the first time in a long while that she’d felt as if someone was bothered about her for more than just a process or a business or a status symbol, something to use to tick a box. He’d wanted to stay. He’d wanted more of her. But he was holding back something, something so they wouldn’t be off the blocks with a false start.

And it was something to look forward to.

She fell asleep smiling, sated. Something to look forward to.