Page 123 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

‘I was not canvassing for the sympathy vote,’ she cut back, wincing internally at the thought.

‘I never thought you were. Do you want to see inside?’

She shook her head. ‘This room holds no ghosts to exorcise for me... Well, not many,’ innate honesty made her add.

But she could deal with the past, she thought. It was the present that she was struggling to get her head around.

‘A good philosophy,’ he agreed as he followed her to one of the windows in the gallery that led to the next wing of the house. It overlooked the garden, and on a clear day gave glimpses through the trees of the village church spire.

Clemmie’s breath caught as his muscled thigh touched her own when he sat down on the wide windowsill beside her. She was aware of an internal battle between her instincts: one urging her to push into him, the other to shuffle away. It resulted in a draw. She stayed exactly where she was and hoped the quivering of her own thigh muscles was not obvious.

The internal battle was exhausting. Was this something she had already gone through and moved beyond? Well, she supposed she must have. They were intimate.

The thought of it sent prickles of sensation along her nerve-endings. It just seemed so impossible.

She was living her secret fantasy—she just really wished she could remember.

‘It’s a store room now, I think,’ he said.

‘I know. I used to help Mum in the holidays, remember? I also know that your current room is the one above the library, and—’

‘Why do you pretend you don’tlovethis place?’

She turned her head, the abrupt action sending a section of curls across her face.

‘I... I... How did you know?’ She had barely acknowledged the truth herself. ‘Sorry. I know we must have shared that, and more, but I don’t remember.’ The utter futility of it all hit her. ‘It’s just a building...bricks and mortar...or stone and mortar, at least. But it makes me feel close to Chrissie.’

Her pallor was beginning to concern him. ‘I should have made you stay in hospital.’

She flashed a smile. ‘You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to...’ She paused, her eyes dropping.

‘You can have your privacy tonight, Clemmie.’

She nodded, relieved that she hadn’t had to explain. ‘I know that this must seem odd to you, but to me you are not my fiancé.’ She frowned as she tried to pick her way through the minefield of wrong words in her head. Maybe there were no right words.

‘Your mum will have made up my room—you take that.’

‘Thanks.’

He shrugged, and had the immediate impression that her gratitude had made him tighten the guilt screw another notch. Because all he could think about was being inside her.

‘Are you hungry?’ he asked.

She shook her head. At this point just putting one foot in front of the other was an effort. ‘I think maybe I just need to sleep for a while.’

Even though she said it was unnecessary, he shadowed her as she made her way to his room on the next floor.

He opened the door and looked down at her. ‘Maybe you should have stayed with your mum tonight. Shall I call her?’

‘No, I’m fine.’

‘Can I get you anything?’

She shook her head.

Inside the bedroom there were no clues to the man himself—but then why would there be? He stayed here once a year, maybe. She wandered through to the bathroom and filled a glass with water, then returned to the bedroom and sat on the bed, before kicking off her shoes.

Suddenly she didn’t feel tired at all. She lay down and wondered if she should ring her mum.

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