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Her stomach flipped over at the sweet look of regret on his face. It was flattering to know that she affected him so strongly, but there was a tension beneath his skin as though he was bracing himself, or building up to saying something that was on his mind.
Her heart began to thump inside her chest. ‘Let’s just go upstairs,’ she said quickly.
‘No. I don’t want to go upstairs.’ His voice was hoarse, but it was the tension in his arms that made her stop talking and stare at him uncertainly.
‘I didn’t mean that.’ Gritting his teeth, he reached out and touched her cheek. ‘I do. It’s just there’s something I want to say to you. About you and Sóley staying on for Christmas. When I asked you on the beach I made a mistake—’
In other words he’d changed his mind.
She stared at him miserably. Beneath her legs the solid bench felt suddenly as though it was made of paper. He’d had time to think and of course he’d changed his mind—but she wasn’t going to let him know about the stupid hope in her heart.
‘It’s okay—I get it,’ she said woodenly. ‘You’re a busy man and you’ve already taken three weeks off.’
‘No, that’s not what I meant.’ His face was taut. ‘I asked you to stay on here, but what I really meant to ask—what I should have asked you—was will you move in with me when we get back to England?’
She stared at him in mute disbelief, stunned by his unexpected miraculous question.
He stroked her face gently. ‘I’m not good with words, and I didn’t make myself clear yesterday, so I’m going to try a little harder this time. I want you to move in with me, Lottie. Sóley too, of course, but I’m asking you.’
Lottie pressed her hand against her mouth. Everything was spinning out of reach, her breath, her heartbeat, her thoughts. He wasn’t saying that he loved her, but he wanted her—and not just for sex, but for herself. And right now that was enough.
‘I want that too, but are you sure?’
His hands tangled in her hair and he drew her forward. ‘More sure than I’ve ever been.’
And, tilting her face up to his, he kissed her.
Warmth flooded her body and she felt her bones start to soften. He was wrong, she thought. He was good with words—but he was even better at kissing.
For Lottie, the rest of the day passed in a kind of bubble of invulnerable happiness. At first she could hardly believe what had happened, but then Ragnar told Signy, and she’d finally allowed herself to accept that for once the hopes and expectations of her imagination had matched up with real life.
The following morning they woke early, reaching for one another in the darkness, making love slowly, taking their time. Afterwards Ragnar held her close to him, so that it felt as though his blood was pulsing through her veins.
As the sun started to ease into the room they could hear Sóley, gabbling to herself from next door. Lottie inched away from Ragnar’s warm, solid body.
‘No, I’ll get her,’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘I want to—you always get up first.’ Leaning forward, she kissed him softly on the mouth. ‘Why don’t you grab some more sleep?’
His gaze drifted slowly over her naked body and she felt her breasts start to ache.
‘I’m not actually feeling that sleepy...’
They stared at one another, a pulse of desire rebounding between them—and then there was a short, imperious shout from the other side of the wall.
His eyes locked with hers and then the corner of his mouth curved upwards. ‘It’s fine. I’ll go and hit the gym for an hour.’ Shifting against the bedding, he grimaced. ‘Maybe two.’
Lottie fed Sóley her breakfast and then had a piece of toast herself. Signy had taken the morning off to visit her sister, so it would be a treat to cook breakfast for both of them. Imagine cooking breakfast being a treat. She smiled. It was just one small example of how her life had changed over the past few weeks.
The biggest and best change was that she and Ragnar had both managed to overcome the false start they’d made twenty months ago in London. Okay, he hadn’t said that he loved her, but then she hadn’t said it either—and besides, she smiled, neither of them were good with words.
Picking up Sóley, she glanced down at her daughter’s cereal-splattered dungarees. ‘How did you get so mucky?’ She sighed. ‘Come on, then, let’s go and clean you up.’
They were less than halfway up the stairs when she heard the sound of a car in the driveway.
It must be Signy. Except Signy would let herself in, she thought, frowning as there was a sudden frantic knocking on the door, followed almost immediately by someone pressing the doorbell insistently.
She stared at the door uncertainly.
