Page 11 of Oz
However, Mr Tall, Dark, and Handsome has no problem. “Brilliant,” he shouts enthusiastically. “Hold her steady.”
“What for?” I ask, but it’s to fresh air as he bends down and rummages through a huge canvas bag before coming out with a small silver instrument.
“What the hell isthat?” I ask breathlessly. “It’s like watching the filmMarathon Man.” He brandishes it, grinning, and I shake my head. “What are you doing to Kylie?”
“Getting a stone out of her hoof,” he says and drops smoothly into a kneeling position at my feet. I swallow hard at the sight of that handsome face so near to my groin and I watch as the breeze blows the black waves around and the sun picks out gleaming red strands that glow like fire.
Kylie wriggles and bucks but I maintain a strong arm around her as the man forages quickly and deftly. Exclaiming in triumph, he grabs something and removes it, holding a small stone up to show me. “Teamwork,” he grins, and I give a strained smile.
“You okay?” he asks, kneeling and looking up at me like the sort of wet dream I’ve never been lucky enough to have.
I swallow hard. “Peachy. This position is like most Saturdays for me.” I pause before saying quickly, “Minus the sheep, obviously. I like animals, but I don’tloveanimals if you know what I mean.”
Silence lengthens and I mentally close my eyes and sigh.Wow, Oz. A fit handsome man at your feet and you’re talking casually about bestiality. I’m surprised he’s not proposing already.I might have to consider that my datable personality has finally deserted me.
I look down, startled as he breaks into loud laughter. Kylie, sensing escape, wriggles and I let her go in surprise. The man gives a startled huff as she jumps over him and runs quickly away, disappearing into the furthest reaches of the field. He carries on laughing and I grin down at him, taken by the laughter wrinkles around his eyes.
He sits up and offers his hand. “I’m Silas.”
I look at it for a second, feeling an odd sense of trepidation that I dismiss with an internal huff. The quiet here is obviously affecting me. “Oz,” I reply and touch his hand. A warm tingle runs through my palm and up my arm, and he looks up startled as if he felt the same.
As if by common accord we both step back and stare at each other. He turns slightly and puts his hand to the gate behind him.
The next second I hear my name being shouted, and when I look up I can see Milo rushing through the knot garden like the White Rabbit. “I have to go,” I say and turn back before standing in surprise.
The field is empty, the only sign that anyone else had been there the pollen rising and glittering in the sun and the click of the gate.
Chapter
Three
Lord Ashworth, I presume
Oz
I follow Milo down the path as he mutters apologies and I look back, wondering for a wild moment whether I imagined that encounter. I brighten slightly. If I did, my imagination has gotten immeasurably better. I can’t wait to have a sex dream about the stranger too.
We walk up the side of the house, stone mullioned windows looking down on us and glittering in the sun. Coming to an arched mint green door in the wall, Milo opens it and gestures me through. It’s like going into the secret garden as we pass through shade and then onto what is obviously the front of the house. I look up and gasp. It’s bloody huge. Wisteria grows over the honey-coloured stone and its sweet scent drifts down. Infront is a grassed forecourt that leads down some stone steps to a long, gravelled driveway which is obviously the main entrance.
Milo doesn’t give me much chance to look as he marches up to a huge studded door and beckons me through and into a whitewashed passage with ancient-looking flagstones that are worn smooth and shining with the patina of years.
“We’ve got to hurry,” he says, opening a door and beckoning me through. “Lord Ashworth is here and wants to meet you.”
“Well, we mustn’t keep him waiting,” I say wryly, trying not to gape at what is obviously the great hall of the manor. It’s full of sunshine that pours through the two-storey multipaned window. It lays lazy stripes over a long oak refectory table, and when I look up I’m entranced with the white plasterwork ceiling. Oak leaves and patterns sprawl across it and I nearly bump into a suit of battered-looking armour while I stare. I look ahead at Milo. “So, let me get this straight. He’s the Earl of Ashworth but we call him Lord Ashworth?”
He nods. “That’s right.” He hesitates. “Although he doesn’t seem to like a lot of ceremony at the best of times.”
He rushes through the great hall, going down some steps before knocking at a white painted door. He listens before opening it cautiously and looking round. His shoulders relax and he beckons me in. “He’s not here yet. I’ll leave you here and come back for you in an hour.”
“Anhour?”I ask but it’s to thin air. I look around curiously at the room. It’s obviously the man’s study. Old oak bookcases rise to the ceiling stuffed full of books and I inhale the scent of leather from their jackets. The room is wide and graceful. A large stone fireplace is on one wall and an old velvet sofa sits in front of it looking insanely comfortable as do the tapestry chairs to either side, their material worn soft with the years. An oak desk sits at the other side of the room piled high with mountains of papers and a computer. The French doors are open letting in asoft breeze from the garden outside. The air is redolent with the scent of furniture polish and paper.
What look like family portraits line the walls, and I’ve just stepped closer to look at a particularly grumpy lady with two children in Stuart dress when a disturbance at the door makes my head shoot up.
“You!”I gasp and Silas pauses, giving me a curiously knowing look. “What are you doing here?” I ask, darting forward.
The look is immediately replaced by confusion. “I’ve come to talk to you,” he starts to say but I hush him impatiently.
“We haven’t got time forthat.” I feel faintly scandalized, like I’m being infected with propriety the longer I stay here. “You can’t be in here,” I say. “I’m expecting to meet the lord of the house any minute. How am I going to explain you to him?”
