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If giving in to her foolish desire to sleep with Ben Hampton ruined Christmas for her family they’d never forgive her. Hell, she’d never forgive herself.
In a flurry of movement Luce crossed the room and settled into the chair, flipping open her laptop and tapping her fingers against the wood of the desk as she waited for it to bring up her manuscript. Work. That was what she needed. Something to distract her and give her purpose. Except...
How am I supposed to concentrate on ancient history when my own past and present is naked in the next room?
No, she needed to focus. Nest. What happened after Owain took her from Cilgerran? Henry I intervened. So, how to frame it? Consider how one woman, a Welsh princess, caused uproar in the English court? Or tell the more personal story of her ex-lover coming to the rescue of her reputation?
Her lips tightened. God only knew what her grandfather would make of her reputation right now if he were still alive.
Nest had it easy. One quick kidnapping and she was set.
With a sigh, Luce turned her attention to the document in front of her and pushed all thoughts of Ben, the night before and what the hell happened next out of her head. The only thing she could fix right now was her book.
* * *
Ben was still cursing himself for an idiot two hours later when, as he waited for the kettle to boil for an apologetic cup of peppermint tea, the lights went out. Cursing, he flipped a few switches on and off, then stalked off towards the fuse box. Chances were it was a power cut, given the snow, but his luck had to turn some time. Maybe it was a tripped switch.
It wasn’t. And by the time he returned to the kitchen Luce stood in front of the fire, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at him. ‘What the hell’s happened now?’
‘Power cut,’ Ben said. ‘At least best I can tell. Might be a line down somewhere.’
‘So what do we do?’ Luce asked, a snap in her voice. ‘Don’t you have an emergency generator or something?’
At least she was talking to him. He supposed he should be grateful for that. ‘No generator. Now we build up the fire, keep warm and survive on whatever in the fridge doesn’t need cooking.’ Maybe he had some marshmallows they could toast somewhere at the back of a cupboard.
Luce glared out of the window and he followed her gaze to where the snow was still fluttering to the ground. ‘I’m thinking very fondly of the Eight Bells right now.’
‘We’d never get down the path,’ Ben said.
‘Just as long as it clears enough for us to get to Cardiff. I’m not staying another day here with you.’ Luce’s tone was firm, as if daring the weather to disagree with her again. But, given the way the snow had started to drift, driving anywhere in the next few days would be a really stupid idea.
Of course getting snowed in at his cottage, during a power cut, with a furious Lucinda Myles was also kind of idiotic. Apparently there was something about her that made him lose his mind.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asked, checking his watch in the firelight. He wasn’t sure what meal they were on, but it had been a while since either of them had eaten.
‘That depends on what’s in your fridge.’ Luce eyed him with suspicion, as if he might be about to add poisoning to his list of crimes.
‘I picked up some bits from the village shop yesterday. There should be enough to tide us over.’ Just about. He’d only planned on having to feed himself, after all.
‘Fine. But the power had better come back on before my laptop battery runs out.’ Turning on her heel, Luce stalked back towards her room. ‘Call me when the food’s ready.’
Ben sighed and watched her go. Apparently any sort of reconciliation was still a way off.
There wasn’t much to prepare. Ben arranged cheeses and bread on plates, adding some cold meats he’d picked up, then carried them over to the low table in front of the fire. Then, as an afterthought, he grabbed a bottle of red wine and two glasses. Wine always made things more of a feast.
‘Grub’s up,’ he called, and moments later Luce appeared. She’d added another jumper on top of her outfit from earlier. With the electric under-floor heating out of commission the cottage was becoming very chilly, very quickly. ‘Sorry it’s not much.’
Luce took the glass of wine he’d poured for her and sat at the end of the sofa nearest the fire. ‘Better than nothing. At least it’s warm in here.’ Her words were short, terse. And she still wasn’t looking at him.
With a deep breath, Ben sat down beside her, reaching for his own wine. ‘That’s not all I’m sorry for.’
