He shrugs. “No, you’re just as dangerous then as at other times.” He moves back as I sit up, his eyes watchful as he assesses me. “Need any help?”
“I really don’t. You had to pick me up off the floor one time last week, and it’s never happened again.”
“You fell over.”
“I was dizzy, Reuben. I’m not that anymore.”
“Well, I reserve the right to help you.”
“When don’t you?” I say this far too affectionately.
Our gazes meet and hold, the moment stretching painfully, and it’s a relief when I hear someone shouting his name.
I turn and see a lady striding towards us. She’s wearing wellies and a long mac pulled together with what looks like a bathrobe tie. She has long red hair, tightly plaited, and is wearing a man’s bowler hat. I look at her admiringly.
“There you are,” she says as she gets close. “Thought you were never getting back.”
“Sansa,” Reuben says with a smile.
Movement draws my attention to her leg. “Oh my god,” I say. “So cute.” I scramble out of the car and crouch down to get a closer look at the puppy at her side. He’s thin and scruffy, with a rough grey coat, and he’s shivering slightly, but he has the biggest amber-coloured eyes. They remind me of wolf eyes, and they’re currently looking at me rather distrustfully.
I hold my hand out, fingers down, and he gives a nervous shudder. I keep my hand there. “I don’t blame you,” I say softly. “I could very well be a completely disreputable person who would lead you into a life of debauchery.”
Reuben snorts. “He’ll be thinking he’s turned up in a Georgette Heyer novel.”
“My grandmother read those and told me all about them. I think she found my grandfather very disappointing. He wasn’t caddish, he didn’t drive a carriage, and the only demands he made were about consistent meal times.”
“You’re Reuben’s English friend, then,” the woman says.
“So it seems.” I smile up at her. “Xavier Conway.”
“Ah, yes.” She scrutinizes me with narrowed eyes. “I’m Sansa. Mrs Mac said you were dancing naked last week in the garden.” She sounds almost disappointed that I’m not doing it now.
“Well, I did have on underpants and a Russian hat.”
She grins, and the smile lights up her thin face. “Ah, that’s Ettie. She’s always embellishing her stories.”
“I hope she made me six foot five and a devastating beauty.” A rough tongue suddenly bathes my fingers. “Well,hello,” I say to the puppy. “Thank you very much. I’m pretty sure that you just removed the last remains of my lemon drizzle cake.” I lean closer. “I can’t blame you for that. It’s the best on the island.”
I can feel Reuben’s heat-seeking missile gaze on my face, but I smile up at Sansa. “Is he yours? What’s his name?”
She grimaces. “Ah, he’s not mine. Pete from the bakery found him outside a shop, tied to a railing, yesterday.”
“What?”
She nods. “Reckon a tourist didn’t want him and left him. The captain of the ferry said there was a bloke with a dog matching this one’s description yesterday. He was acting shifty.”
“Could he have forgotten him?” Reuben asks.
She shakes her head. “He’s long gone, leaving this one behind.”
“Oh my god,” I say, my heart hurting. “You poorbaby.” I shake my head. “He must be so fucking frightened.” I blanch and offer her an apologetic look. “Sorry about my language.”
“No need,” she says serenely. “I’d wager he’s better off on his own than with some cruel cunt.”
I blink and bite my lips to hold in a massive laugh. “Yes,” I say simply and hear Reuben snort softly.
Then he turns to Sansa. “Do you want me to do the usual?”
