Licence to Dream (19 page)

‘A bit. I think I'll take some more of those painkillers, if you'll tell me where to find them.’ As an incautious movement brought his swollen foot into contact with the door frame, he yelped and clung to it, breathing heavily.

She forgot her state of undress and swung out of the bed. ‘Sit down for a minute.’

The only place within reach was the corner of her bed and he subsided on it with a groan. ‘I’m really sorry about waking you up.’

‘It doesn't matter. Just stay there while I get you the tablets. When you've had a rest, I'll help you back along the corridor to your room.’

‘Thanks.’ He smiled tiredly up at her. ‘You're a real life-saver, Ingram.’ Then his smile broadened. ‘And you have a very sexy taste in nightwear.’

As she looked down she let out a yip of embarrassment and rushed across to the chair, dragging her dressing gown around her. If he said one more word about her nightdress, even half a word, she would throw something at him. Several things!

Only when she felt respectable again did she turn to look at him. He had swung his injured leg up on the bed and was hunched over it, rocking slightly with pain. As if he felt her eyes upon him, he looked up. ‘Sorry. I must have knocked a particularly tender bit on that door frame.’

She forgot her annoyance and hurried off to get what he needed.

When he had drunk the milk and taken the tablets, she took the glass from him. ‘I'll get myself a drink of water and I’ll put one next to your bed, too. It's a thirsty sort of night. Stay there till I come back to help you along to your room.’

When she returned, he had rolled over and was lying on the bed with his eyes closed. ‘Elless . . . Ben?’

He didn’t stir.

She stood hesitating. His face was wrinkled in a half-frown, as if the pain was still there, even in sleep. She didn’t have the heart to wake him up again and force him to limp back along the corridor.

She hesitated. Should she go and use the other room? No, somehow she didn’t want to spend the night in what she thought of as
his
bed. Besides, what if he woke up and didn't know where he was? He might hurt himself.

‘Elless?’

His breathing was so deep and even, he couldn’t possibly be feigning sleep. She tip-toed across to her walk-in robe and found a sheet to spread over him. No need for a covering in this heat, but that towel was slipping again.

She was exhausted. No way was she spending the night on the couch. This was a large bed, after all. Slipping off her dressing gown, she slid under the other sheet, yawning. It had been a very eventful day. Anyway, she’d probably wake up long before he did.

* * * *

Ben woke at dawn and couldn’t at first remember where he was. Then he turned in the bed and saw her lying there, sleeping soundly, looking tousled and altogether too gorgeous. He almost reached out to touch her beautiful hair then pulled his hand back.

How had he got into her bed? He had a vague memory of making his way along to the bathroom and . . . he frowned . . . she’d gone to get him some more painkillers. He watched her for a few moments, remembering with a pang what it had been like to wake up beside Sandy, to have someone to share with, to cuddle, to tease.

Meriel stirred and he heard a soft murmur of sound as she began to surface. When she saw him, she came instantly awake.

‘Good morning, Ingram. You sleep as soundly and easily as a child. No, don't jump out of bed. We're perfectly respectable, each in our own nest of covers.’

She yawned and stretched. ‘How do you feel this morning? You look a bit better.’

‘I feel all right – until I try to move. I’d prefer to take more of those painkillers before I get up, though.’

‘And your headache?’

‘The thumping seems to have dulled down to a background ache.’

‘That’s good. You'd better not have any tablets until you've had something to eat.’

He couldn’t resist teasing her. ‘I won't if you say not, nursie dear. I'll be the most docile, co-operative patient that ever was.’

She snorted her disbelief. ‘For how long? Five seconds? Ten?’

He assumed an expression of virtuous indignation and was pleased when it made her smile. ‘How can you accuse me of such things? I'm cut to the quick by your mistrust – distressed, forlorn, broken-hearted, inconsolable, mortified, chagrined. I shall probably go into a decline and pine right away.’ He laid one hand on his chest and gazed at her soulfully till she chuckled.

Then he couldn’t resist it. He stretched out one fingertip to stroke a strand of her hair that had been tempting him for several minutes. He watched as her breath caught in her throat and when she didn’t pull away, felt a sense of triumph.

‘The colour's quite natural, isn't it?’

‘Of course it's natural!’ She grimaced. ‘I wish it weren't quite so – blond. I'd rather have dark hair.’

‘Never wish that. Your hair's glorious.’

‘If you’re a blonde, people assume you're dumb and treat you accordingly.’

‘I don't think you're dumb.’

‘No, but you do think I've been trying to blackmail you.’

He could see tears well up and make her eyes over-bright. ‘I don't think that now. I changed my mind yesterday afternoon.’

‘Oh?’ They stared at each other in silence for a minute or two, then she asked, ‘Why?’

‘When we were in the car coming back from town, I saw tears in your eyes after I’d accused you again – I don’t know why I did it anyway – and I suddenly realised I was wrong about you, that you weren’t the sort to blackmail anyone. I'm truly sorry now that I accused you of it. I meant to apologise yesterday, but the pain distracted me somewhat.’

He grimaced as he looked down at his foot, ‘Perhaps I could have those damned painkillers now?’

She came back with them to find Ben lying with his eyes closed, a frown creasing his forehead. ‘Let me look at your pupils,’ she demanded, as soon as she had taken the empty glass away from him.

He turned the full power of his bright blue eyes on to her. ‘What's the verdict, nursie dear?’

‘You'll probably live, Elless.’ It helped to use his surname, kept him at bay – well, sort of. She managed to speak lightly but had trouble tearing her eyes away from his. ‘Look – um – I'm going to get my shower now. You'd better stay here until you've had yours, then I'll help you along to the family room or back to your own bed, whichever you prefer.’

‘All right.’

‘And – um – you'll need some clothes.’

‘I suppose so.’

She went into the walk-in robe and came out with an over-sized tee-shirt and a sarong which she laid on the foot of the bed. ‘I’m afraid these are the best I can do.’

When she’d grabbed some clean clothes for herself, she took a quick shower then went to prepare breakfast. The amount he ate eased her worries. He couldn’t be ill if he could eat a big plate of bacon, eggs and tomatoes.

Afterwards she settled him on her couch in the family room and offered him a choice of books to while away the time.

‘Aren't you going to sit and hold my hand?’

‘No, I'm going to paint some walls.’

He grinned. ‘That'll keep you out of my way nicely. Which walls?’

‘The ones in the next room to this.’

‘What are you going to do with it? This is quite a big house for one person. I'd have thought you'd spend most of your time in this room. Why the rush to do the rest?’

‘This is the room I'll be living in, certainly, but I'll need that one for – for – ’ She broke off as she realised where this was leading.

‘For what? What's your deadly secret, Ingram? I'm still trying to understand why a woman like you would want to hide herself away in the country.’

‘Because I'm going to be – no, I
am
an artist.’ She still felt self-conscious saying that to people. ‘So I need a studio.’

‘Aha! The mystery begins to unravel.’

She avoided his eyes. ‘Not a mystery, just a chance to do my own thing. I haven't really started yet, commercially. I've been studying at night school for years, learning my trade, though I have been commissioned to do several book cover illustrations, and I’ve sold some greeting card designs.’

‘So the money you inherited has allowed you to follow your dream?’

‘Yes.’ She grimaced. ‘But this place cost more than I'd intended to spend and I still need to get the firebreaks done, so I'll have to be very careful how I go from now on. I’ll need some money to live on for a year or two, at least, and it only makes sense to keep some in reserve.’

‘What was the money? Legacy from an elderly aunt?’

She could feel another blush creeping up her neck. ‘No. Actually,’ she had to clear her throat, because the words wouldn't come out easily, ‘I won Lotto.’

He stared at her incredulously, then threw back his head and roared with laughter. ‘And you're
embarrassed
by it?’

‘Well, it's the only time I've even bought a ticket. I couldn't believe it when I won. It seemed an enormous amount of money at first, but by the time I'd bought this place and a car, well – I don’t like to run my savings down to nothing.’

‘You shouldn't be ashamed of winning,’ he said softly. ‘Be glad, be joyful. It's not a sin to be lucky.’

She changed the subject. ‘Yes, well, even lucky people have work to do.’

Mid-morning she got them both a cup of coffee and scones.

He raised his eyebrows at the sight of the plate. ‘Home made?’

‘Yes.’

He took a big bite and made mumbling sounds of pleasure. ‘You have hidden talents, Ingram. Any chance of another? My appetite seems to be returning.’

Just as she was clearing up, the phone rang. ‘Oh, hi Bill. What can I do for you?’

He explained about the offer.

‘I can’t believe this. That’s the second offer I’ve had, but I’m definitely not selling.’

‘Who’s the other from?’

‘Ben Elless.’

‘Ah. I heard you’d taken him in. Is he still at your place?’

She didn’t bother asking how he knew. York was a small town. ‘Yes. Do you want to speak to him?’ She passed the phone to Ben.

He listened carefully, then said, ‘Not interested. No, not at any price.’

When he put the phone down he said, ‘I’ve had an offer for my place. A good one. I gather you had one too.’

‘Yes.’

‘There’s only one sort of person who’d want two big blocks next to one another.’

She finished it for him. ‘A developer. Well, they can just go and do their developing somewhere else. I’m not selling.’

‘My sentiments exactly.’

‘I’ll get back to work.’

When she peeped in on him half an hour later, worried by the silence, he was fast asleep. She stared across the room at his bruised face, feeling her gaze softening, then shook her head and went back to work.

By lunchtime she was sick of the smell of paint and her arms were aching but at least she’d finished the second coat. It was another warm day and the paint dried almost as soon as she put it on. That, she thought, looking up and nodding approval, was enough painting for one day.

She cleaned and packed away her equipment then took a shower. Putting on a clean white top and blue knee-length shorts, she went back to face him.

He was awake again, holding one of the novels she’d given him but frowning into space. He put the book down immediately she entered the room and gave her a welcoming smile.

Tina, who had been lying by the side of the couch, heaved herself upright and came over to lick Meriel's hand and press against her for a cuddle. She was a most affectionate dog and didn’t seem to be missing her former owner too much.

Ben’s deep voice washed over Meriel. ‘Painting over for the day?’

‘Yes. I can't face any more of it.’

‘It's a waste of time, an artist doing such a hack job.’

She shrugged. ‘Needs must. It offends my artistic soul to have bare stained plaster around me while I work. But it’d offend me even more to pay someone else to do a simple job like that.’ She changed the subject. ‘Hungry?’

‘Yes. Very. I'm afraid I have a rather healthy appetite. We must come to some arrangement about food. Just tell me how much I'm costing you.’

‘All right.’

When he didn’t reply, she looked up to see him grinning at her. ‘What's so funny?’

‘That must be the first time we've reached agreement about anything without quarrelling.’

‘That’s because you're being reasonable, for once, Elless.’

‘I just
lurve
the way you call me Elless.’ He let out an exaggerated sigh.

‘Don’t push your luck! You’re being
reasonable
today, remember?’

‘Ouch! That was a hit below the belt, Ingram! And me an injured man, too!’

She chuckled, pushed Tina away and walked into the kitchen area to start pulling food out of the fridge.

His voice followed her. ‘After lunch, could we talk? My head seems clear enough now to do some planning. I need to sort out quite a few things, like how to get my surviving possessions out of that shack, not to mention finding somewhere to live and getting proper clothes to wear.’ He gestured to the tee shirt she had lent him, a loose tent of a garment on her, but one which was tightly stretched across his shoulders.

Below it, he was wearing the sarong she had bought one day at a market on an impulse, after falling in love with its shimmering colours. Beneath the dark blue shot with silver and bands of lighter blue and pink, his sun-tanned legs were bare.

‘I should have gone into town this morning and bought you some more clothes,’ she said guiltily. ‘Or I could have gone back to your place and tiptoed into the bedroom. Why didn't you remind me of your needs?’

‘There was no hurry. And I don’t want you going back into that shack, not under any circumstances. It’s far too dangerous.’

‘I’d have been careful.’

‘No. The whole place needs to be demolished now.’

She shrugged.

‘Anyway, how could I come between a woman and her paint roller?’

She blew a loud raspberry at him.

Besides, I wanted time to think before we talked.’

‘What about?’

‘We'll discuss it after lunch, unless you want me to fade away from starvation.’