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He sighed, not a sound of impatience or weariness, but one of deep thought. “You were emotional,” he said finally. “Vulnerable. I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”
“That’s some pretty emo talk for a Yorkshire farmer,” Rachel returned with some asperity.
Ben let out a huff of something like laughter. “This is the twenty-first century, Rach. It’s not all ’ey up, fetch me my tea, tha’ daft apeth.’”
Rachel had to laugh at the thick Yorkshire accent he’d put on. “Translation?” she asked as she finally looked up with a smile.
He feigned shock, staggering back a little. “What’s a bonny Yorkshire lass like tha’self not knowing such a thing?”
“‘Something like hello, I’d like some tea please, darling?’” Rachel returned with a smile, and Ben nodded soberly.
“Aye, now the lass has the hang of it, ey reyt.”
She laughed again and then shook her head, determined to keep being honest, even though it was hard. “I wasn’tthatvulnerable, Ben. I don’t believe you.”
He was silent for a long moment, and she took a sip of tea, steeling herself.
“Well,” he said finally, scratching his cheek, “I suppose it wasn’t just that.”
“No?”
“I’ve got my pride,” he admitted. “I can just about take being turned down once, but not twice. And I didn’t fancy being your bit of rough, if that’s the way you were thinking.”
“What!” There was so much in that statement that Rachel needed to unpick, to argue with, because he clearly had the wrong end of several sticks. “First of all,” she said, “I didn’t turn you down,youturned me down, back then.”
Ben’s mouth dropped open. “What—”
“Second of all, I have never, ever suggested that you could be my bit of rough! What a thought. You’re not even that rough, Ben Mackey, I’ll have you know.” She glared at him, although she wasn’t, she realised, feeling all that angry. She was feeling strangely exhilarated. “And third of all, you didn’t even say any of this on the night, so it’s all a bit after the fact, isn’t it?”
“You didn’t give me a chance!” he exclaimed, flushing. “You hightailed out of there like a—like a bat out of hell! What was I supposed to do?” He looked so aggrieved that Rachel had a sudden urge to laugh.
“What you weresupposedto do,” she replied, hardly able to believe she was actually saying such a thing, “was kiss me senseless! That was what I wanted! That’s what I was so clearly asking for, so none of this telling me I wasemotional.”
“Yousaid you were emotional, at the ceilidh,” Ben fired back, taking a step towards her. His face was flushed, his eyes glittering. They were fighting, except, Rachel knew, they really weren’t. She didn’t think she’d ever felt so alive, every nerve end singing.
“What was I supposed to say,” she tossed back at him, “when you had so clearly rejected me? Was I supposed to get on my knees and beg? I have some pride too, you know, Ben Mackey!”
She poked a finger in his nicely muscled chest, and quick as a flash he captured her hand in his, drawing it against his heart. Rachel’s breath caught as she stared at him with wide eyes, her heart thundering in her chest.
“What do you mean,” he asked in a low voice, “that I turned you down, back then? Because that’s not how I remember it, Rachel Mowbray. At all.”
Her mind wasbuzzing. Her whole body was. “You never asked me to stay,” she whispered.
“You were so set on going,” he replied, his voice so low she had to strain to hear it, even standing right in front of him. “Youtoldme you wanted to go to Exeter. You knew I was never going to leave the farm.”
“There is such a thing as long-distance relationships. I said as much—”
“You really wanted that?” he returned, his hand clasping hers tightly. “You wanted to spend three years toing and froing, your heart in one place, your mind in another? Iknewyou, Rachel. You wanted your freedom. This isn’t a case of simple misunderstanding, one conversation gone wrong. That’s just revisionist history.”
“Maybe,” she allowed, unable to tear her gaze from his. She knew there was more than a little truth in his words. “But you didn’t say a single word, Ben. Not one word. Do you know how…rejected…I felt?”
“Do you know rejectedIfelt?” he returned, drawing her closer to him so their hips bumped. “You were going off to this exciting new world, and you werefizzingwith it. I was just staying here in bloody Mathering, pitching hay.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she pressed, her voice little more than a croak. “You didn’t even turn around.”
“Why do you think?” he demanded raggedly, which was no answer at all, but Rachel had no time to protest because then he was kissing her, kissing her in a way he never had before, with a wild, almost frenzied passion, his hands in her hair, driving her forward until her back was pressed against the barn wall, and her mind blurred in the most wonderful way as she kissed him back with all the passion she knew she felt.
The next few seconds, or maybe even minutes, passed in a blaze of sensation—lips, hands, bodies, breathing ragged and wanting.
