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She pressed her lips against the lobe of his ear. ‘If you really want to know… I’d like to go for a long walk and then I’d like to have a bath—’
‘Together?’
‘If you think the bath is big enough, Jack.’
‘I think we may have to cling very closely together. Or double up. You might just have to climb on top.’
‘Oh, I think I could just about bear that.’
He laughed. ‘And then?’
‘Then I’d like to watch some soppy film and eat popcorn—and before you say that you don’t like soppy films, I know that already. But you did ask me what I’d really like to do, Jack—and now I’ve told you.’
He was thoughtful for a moment and then he nodded his head. ‘Okay.’
Surprised, she turned her face up to him. ‘Just like that?’
‘Why not?’
‘If I’d known you were going to be so amenable, I’d have asked for more.’
He stilled—and thought in that moment that he’d have given her the world if it had been within his power to do so. But it isn’t, is it? You know it isn’t. ‘And what else would you have asked for, Ashley?’ he questioned softly.
She felt the race of her pulse. His love? His heart? ‘Oh, a bar of chocolate as well!’
He smiled as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and reached for his jeans. ‘It’s yours.’
Outside, the day was bitter and as they walked beneath a pewter sky Ashley thought that the moors had never looked more wild or more brooding. And neither had Jack, she realised as she stood beside him, the wind whipping his raven hair and emphasising the heightened colour of his high cheekbones. What went through that keen mind of his when he stared so fiercely at the stark horizon? she wondered. And was that occasional glimpse of savage pain she sometimes surprised on his face provoked by memories of army life?
The bath which followed their walk was as protracted as she’d hoped. She giggled as he soaped every inch of her body and then washed her hair with slow fascination, and afterwards Jack left her drying her hair while he drove into the village to hire a DVD. Ashley heard his car pulling away and thought how weirdly normal this all felt. And how perfect.
Too perfect? she wondered. Or was she just indulging in that leftover habit from childhood? Imagining a worst-case scenario to toughen herself up just in case it actually happened.
She dressed, went downstairs and lit the fire—but when Jack returned her heart gave a little leap of anxiety as she saw the expression on his face.
‘Is something wrong?’
There was a pause. ‘I ran into Christine.’
‘Oh?’
‘She looked a little surprised to see me carrying a copy of Bridget Jones’s Diary and a large packet of salted popcorn.’
‘Yes, I can imagine she might be. What did you say?’
‘I didn’t say anything,’ he answered coolly as he handed her the film. ‘I don’t have to explain myself to anyone—least of all to my housekeeper.’
Ashley felt an unfamiliar tension invade the atmosphere as his sudden haughtiness seem to reinforce all the differences between them—until the more disturbing thought occurred to her that Christine’s suspicions might be alerted. And would her relationship with Jack end? Would he decide to put a stop to it before word got round and people began to gossip about them? I don’t want it to end, she thought fiercely as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and reached up on tiptoe to kiss him. I want this to continue for as long as it can.
Jack held himself still for a moment—until the softness of her kiss made him dissolve, just the way it always did. ‘Oh, Ashley,’ he said roughly, just before he began to deepen the kiss. ‘I don’t deserve you.’
She strived for just the right, light touch. ‘Maybe you don’t,’ she mused.
They settled themselves down for the evening. Bridget Jones was one of Ashley’s favourite films—but she quickly discovered that its plot failed to captivate when a man like Jack Marchant was making love to you on the sofa. Afterwards he carried her upstairs and slowly undressed her and then propped himself up on one elbow, looking at her naked body as she lay on the moon-washed bed.
‘You are an amazing woman, do you know that?’
‘I’m not anything special, Jack.’
