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We dance while Bic tells us she’s coming home today, and how the days are getting cold, but that’s alright with her, until eventually the song ends. A faster dance tune comes on, and I expect him to release me, but instead he just speeds up the pace and spins me away from him before pulling me back into his arms. I laugh and throw myself into it, doing the best I can in my high heels, and around us, a couple of other couples also join in.
“We’re setting a trend,” he says.
I grin, thoroughly enjoying myself. We dance to several songs, and it’s only a growing thirst that eventually stops us. We rejoin Alan and Vicky, and everyone cheers.
“You make such a lovely couple,” Vicky says. “It’s so wonderful to see two young people so happy together.”
Titus clears his throat, and my face grows hot. For the first time, I feel a touch of shame that we’re deceiving this family. If we’d known how nice they all were I don’t think we would have done it, but it’s too late to tell them now.
It’s nearing nine o’clock, and a few people come up to say they’re calling it a day, and want to say goodbye to us both. Gradually over the next half an hour the business people depart, and eventually it’s just the members of Alan’s family who remain—his daughters and their husbands.
The temperature is dropping a little now the sun has set, so we move into the conservatory, and we spend another hour chatting to them over coffee, nibbling from a plate of beautiful small desserts that the waiter brings around: tiny cheesecakes and mini chocolate eclairs you can eat in one bite.
As it gets close to ten o’clock, Carrie and John finally say they’re going to make a move, and Titus says, “Yes, I think it’s time for us to head back.”
“Would you like us to drop you off?” Carrie asks.
Titus looks at me, but I shake my head. “I’m happy to walk,” I say, and he agrees.
We all head to the front door, and we shake hands with them all and tell them we look forward to seeing them at the murder-mystery evening tomorrow.
“Thank you so much,” Alan says to Titus. “You were fantastic, and you’ve impressed everyone.”
“I’ve had a great time,” Titus replies.
“I’ll call for you around eleven tomorrow for fishing?” Alan says.
Titus nods. “Sounds great.”
“Here,” Vicky says, “take this,” and she hands him a torch. “The path is lit with solar lamps, but just in case.”
“Thanks.” We wave goodbye, then head out of the door and cross the gravel drive to the pathway behind the trees.
As we walk, we hear the cars departing, and then they disappear into the distance. The air fills with the sound of the countryside at night—the hoot of a tawny owl, the rattle of grasshoppers, the light snuffling of a hedgehog in the grass, and the call of a bird, maybe a nightingale or a skylark.
As Vicky promised, the path is lit every few feet by solar lamps pressed into the grass, and the moon is three-quarters full too, so Titus doesn’t switch on the torch.
We walk quietly, listening to the nighttime sounds. I feel tongue-tied, acutely conscious of the man beside me. Every now and then I can smell his aftershave, heated by his warmed skin, and my fingers tingle where his hand is still holding mine.
I flex my hand in his. “Nobody’s watching now,” I say softly.
“Don’t care,” he says, and he interlinks our fingers.
My pulse picks up speed at his words. He likes touching me.
I’m pretty sure he wants me. I can feel his desire in the air, sparkling between us, a manifestation of the magical evening. I’m filled with a deep longing, an overwhelming hunger for this gorgeous guy.
“You were amazing this evening,” I tell him.
“Ah,” he says, embarrassed, “don’t.”
“I mean it. I’m so proud of you.”
He squeezes my hand as we reach the edge of the trees and pass by the Range Rover. “That’s a nice thing to say.”
“You were so knowledgeable. It was really impressive.” I take a deep breath. “And very sexy.” I stop walking. Titus pauses, then turns to face me.
We study each other for a long time. My heart hammers, and my mouth has gone dry. His eyes gleam in the moonlight. The air between us seems to crackle with electricity.
