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‘Don’t treat me like a princess,’ she told him.
‘It’s chivalry,’ he protested.
‘I’m quite capable, and I’m the one who overpacked.’
Finally, they reached the whitewashed cottage which sat alone on the headland. It had been cleaned and prepared for them and Jack retrieved the key from the keysafe, opening the door and standing back, allowing Rosy to precede him.
He followed her into the small but perfectly formed cottage. The ground floor was one room, kitchen, dining space and lounge combined, with floor-to-ceiling windows framing the dramatic ocean views on one end and the cliffs on either side. It was comfortably yet stylishly decorated and Rosy turned to Jack, eyes glowing.
‘I love it. I can’t wait to explore!’
You would never think that Rosy was a princess, used to the best of everything, Jack reflected as she exclaimed in delight, exploring every inch of the cottage, dashing from view to view, opening cupboards, examining the bookcases.
‘It’s not too small?’
She shook her head, her delighted smile widening even further if that was possible. ‘You know, even though I moved out of the château when I was twenty-one, I still have four bedrooms in a house where no one comes to stay, and a couple of downstairs rooms I don’t even use. I don’t need or want a big house; cosy suits me fine.’
And that was part of what he liked about her. She wasn’t influenced by how much something cost, but by what it meant.
‘That’s good to hear because this place is certainly bijou,’ he said. ‘And of course,’ he added hurriedly, not wanting there to be any misunderstandings between them, ‘I’ll take the pull-out bed.’
There was only one bedroom, taking up the whole of the upper floor, with a luxury shower room off it—the bath was on a raised platform by the window in the bedroom so the occupant could fill it with water and the decadent-smelling bath oil and lounge comfortably, looking out to sea.
‘The pull-out?’
He nodded towards the sofa. ‘It turns into a bed.’
She held his gaze levelly, but he could see a trace of uncertainty in her eyes. Not, he thought, uncertainty about what she was about to say, but more uncertainty about his reaction.
‘It’s a big bed,’ she said deliberately. ‘I would say it’s big enough to share.’
Jack swallowed at the hope in her gaze. It wasn’t an unexpected offer. After all, this was no platonic getaway. The prospect of consummating their connection had been there since the moment he’d suggested she join him for a getaway, the moment she’d accepted. Staying in a small, isolated cottage in the middle of nowhere, a cottage made for lovers, just set those expectations more firmly. But it was the first time either of them had alluded to it out loud.
‘Okay.’
Her smile was mischievous. ‘I mean, you can sleep on the sofa bed if you prefer.’
‘I’m sure the bed will be fine.’
Her dimples flashed. ‘Good, I’m glad that’s settled.’
Jack continued to watch her as she whirled around the cottage, still discovering new things to exclaim at in surprise or approval. He needed to concentrate on the here and now and deliberately, very deliberately, not think about what he was doing. Not think about the promise that hovered over them, the evening just a very few short hours away.
This trip was impulsive, frivolous, dedicated to momentary pleasure, all things Jack rarely allowed. He liked his life planned and organised and deliberate, had done ever since the day the policeman had told his fourteen-year-old self that he could be facing a lengthy spell in youth detention. The next two hours, alone in a cell waiting for his mother, afraid of the sadness and, worse, the resignation he knew he’d see on her too-worn face had changed him. He’d realised what an impulsive fool he had been, played with by older, richer boys who saw him as little more than amusement and had no compunction in using him as their scapegoat. He’d seen his future stretched out before him, full of rooms like that, spells in and out of jail, like his father had before him, leaving a trail of broken hearts and broken potential behind him. He’d vowed then and there that that would not be his destiny and everything he’d done since had been a rebuttal of the policeman’s words.
The only time he’d allowed himself to step off the path he’d set himself was when he’d met Lily. That summer his future had seemed assured, his job lined up and already enough money saved to change his life. But even that hadn’t derailed him. When he’d found out Lily was pregnant he’d just adjusted his plans, used the prospect of becoming a father to motivate him even more.
Now he was stepping off the path again for a very different woman. A woman who was considered and responsible, one who accepted her responsibilities and fate, who wasn’t trying to outrun her destiny but to meet it with grace and acceptance.
‘You look very pensive.’ Rosy came to stand next to him, close but not touching. For two people away on a romantic weekend they were very careful not to touch, but he could feel the air around them tense.
‘I’m just thinking what a lucky man I am,’ he said, and her face softened.
‘Don’t you forget it.’
‘It’s a little late to explore the island,’ Jack said. ‘‘But we have this place until Sunday, so shall we head out and get some food? There are a couple of really good restaurants; they are probably fully booked but I’m sure I could pull some strings.’
‘You know, I don’t want a fancy restaurant.’ Rosy put a hand on his shoulder and looked up at him almost shyly. ‘I wasn’t kidding earlier. What I really, really want is fish and chips, maybe a beer, sitting on the beach, watching the boats go by. Does that sound really boring?’
