Page 51 of Uncharmed

‘Well, normally I’d be sleeping in my room,’ he said quietly, his gaze determinedly fixed on Mage, who was finally starting to relax a fraction in Karma’s presence as she made puddings on his flank. ‘But it’s just this moment occurred to me that there’s a guest in there.’

Annie tensed to match as it dawned on her, too. ‘Oh. Right. I see.’

‘It’s not a problem. There’s no way you’re staying down here with this lot. I’m sure I can find somewhere. I’ll figure something out. Maybe Mage will have me. He snores like a bastard, but . . .’ Hal rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling a resigned sigh.

‘You can’t do that,’ Annie replied, horrified at the idea of him sacrificing yet another night’s sleep out of kindness. She had turned this man’s life upside down enough. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll share.’ The suggestion was aloud and out in the universe before she could stop it.

His head snapped around to her, brows shot high. There was a mild panic to his expression. ‘Share?’

‘Right, we’ll share,’ Annie said again, hoping that she sounded absolutely easy-breezy about the whole thing, even as her heart skipped several beats, flailed and then nosedived to somewhere around her ankles. Hal didn’t say a word, but she saw his cheeks were flushing just as much as hers were. ‘It’s not a big deal. We’ve been living together for weeks. We’re in a pinch and it’s just a bed. One night.’

Hal seemed unconvinced. ‘You’re sure?’

Annie frantically smoothed her hair behind her ear and forced herself to focus on the practical matter at hand, not the extremely endearing way that Hal looked so concerned about the arrangement.

‘It’s settled,’ she said briskly, drawing the last set of curtains downstairs before approaching the spiral staircase. ‘Bagsey the side nearest the window.’

Hal’s sheepish grin returned the slightest inch. ‘Can’t argue with the laws of bagsey. I’ll give you some privacy to . . .’

‘Oh. Yes. Absolutely. Thank you, I’ll just . . . Mhmmm,’ Annie squeaked, before rushing up the stairs as quickly as she could, feeling an incomprehensible combination of excitement and absolute mortification. Could this insane situation not possibly have arisen when she was a bright, glistening beam of perfection, rather than her current state of distinctly human dishevelment, still smelling slightly of the voles that she’d carried in from the meadow? At least her pumpkin latte-print pyjamas weren’t news to him. She dashed around the room, hiding various lip balms, teacups and half-eaten chocolatey snacks at lightning speed.

By the time Hal joined her upstairs, Annie had almost made herself faint from the overthinking. She felt as though she was made of electricity, every nerve ending alight, like any moment she might just burst into hysterical laughter. But she did her level best to contain it all when he appeared at the top of the stairs with an extra blanket tucked under his arm, soft pyjama trousers hanging at his hips and a white T-shirt clinging to his stomach. He cleared his throat in the doorway.

‘Well, after you,’ he said gruffly, gesturing to the bed that Annie had fluffed up and smoothed as best she could, feeling treacherous as she stowed away her favourite teddy bear underneath the pillow. Now that they were both stood either side of it, the bed looked even smaller than she’d remembered it.

‘This is going to be cosy,’ she said, her voice squeaking with the optimism. ‘And I love cosiness. I always try to be cosy at all times, cosy is a way of life . . .’ She couldn’t stop the words tumbling out of her mouth as she fumbled with the duvet, slipping in beside Hal. They both strained to keep their bodies tight and rigid, arms brushing as they tried to stay as far apart as physically possible. Hal’s broad shoulders half hung off the mattress while Annie dangled one leg off her side of the bed. Both clasped their hands together above the duvet and stared straight up at the ceiling.

‘You’re sure this is okay?’ Hal asked again, determinedly focusing on the light bulb above.

‘Totally,’ Annie nodded. ‘Are you sure this is okay?’

‘As long as you’re okay.’

‘Oh, I’m okay. Glad we’re all doing okay.’

Annie wondered whether her pounding heartbeat might actually be audible over the sounds of the pouring rain on the thatched roof.

‘Well, goodnight,’ she trilled after a painful silence lingered for far too long. ‘Shall we just . . .?’ She turned onto her side, facing away from Hal.

‘Oh, right, sure. Good idea,’ he replied, turning the opposite direction. Annie tried to close her eyes, but it was as though they had been pinned wide open. She felt like she shouldn’t exhale at normal volume and was hyperaware of every single shift that Hal’s body made pressed up behind her. She could hear the rise and fall of his breathing, every single faint brush of the blanket between them. She noticed the same scent that she’d experienced that day he’d first arrived – woody and amber, clove and chestnuts, even warmer now under the covers. She didn’t dare to move in case it seemed as though she was trying to press closer. The thought was disastrous.

This ludicrous charade would never, ever have happened had the spell still been taking charge of her decisions. She scowled in the darkness and cursed her stupid mouth for landing her in this mess, her feet wriggling and kicking of their own accord. As bad days went, this one really took all the possible enchanted baked goods.

Annie thought she really was going insane when she felt Hal’s body shaking behind her. It took a moment to realize that he was chuckling.

‘What are you laughing at?’ she asked, more stroppily than she intended, feeling like a brat as she threw off the covers. It was all too much. She had no idea how to handle this.

‘Think I’d have been comfier next to the bloody horse,’ Hal muttered between laughs. She couldn’t help but join in.

At some point, Annie must have done the impossible and fallen asleep, because the next moment she was fluttering open heavy, sleep-soothed eyelids and nuzzling her head into the beautifully warm pillow. Except it wasn’t her pillow. Her head was lying against something firm, that rose and fell in a slow, soothing rhythm beneath her. Coming around from the lull of sleep, Annie froze.

She was tucked snugly into Hal’s side, her head resting on his chest. He had slung an arm across her whole body to pull her tightly into him. The peaceful, contented feeling that had enveloped her as she woke transformed into a flashing red alert. She could not let him wake up to find her like this, nuzzled up as close as she could possibly be, so Annie cautiously detangled herself from his limbs to slip away quietly. She fought against every part of herself to glance back and see how he looked first thing in the morning in her bed, all sleepy and dishevelled. That was not information that she needed to know.

Without even stopping to contemplate, she lunged for her dressing gown and sprinted so quickly down the stairs that she wondered whether some sort of involuntary magical transference had kicked in.

‘Look who finally decided to join the land of the living!’ Maeve was clutching a cup of coffee at the kitchen counter with an extremely amused look on her face. ‘Let’s ignore the irony of the girl who seems to inadvertently communicate with spirits using that old chestnut.’

‘Good morning, sweetheart,’ Annie said, flipping back her hair in an attempt to retain some dignity. ‘Where . . .’ She glanced around, noticing in her frantic state that this was not the scene she had anticipated. ‘Where are all the animals?’