Page 14 of Milo
I can’t say I don’t want to be in close quarters with someone who, no matter what I do, I’m still attracted to. At some point, he’ll notice and I’ll die of embarrassment. I stall for time by shrugging. “She’s got so much stuff.”
“She’ll have as much stuff at my house as in a hotel and I’ve got a big car. We’ll get it all packed up and then the two of you are coming back with me.” He laughs. “I can detect your enthusiasm from here, Milo. It’s making me almost embarrassed by how much you want to be in my home.”
I shake my head. “Well, it’s only for a night.”
He grins. “Probably a few nights, babe. It’s Friday and he’s away for the week.”
“Shit!”
“Language,” he says primly.
Chapter
Three
He’s never been attracted to me before, so why would he start now?
Milo
An hour later we set off down the long drive leading away from the house. Niall stirs in his seat. “You sure we’ve got everything?” he grumbles. “Or will we have to go back and start moving the heavy furniture out?”
I snort and look back to check on Cora in her car seat, but she’s already sleeping. Oz swears by the car, and I know he and Silas used to take her out in it a few times a night in the early days so she’d sleep.
“Babies need lots of things,” I murmur. “Time was when Oz and I went out he’d just have his diary and wallet. Now he has bags and car seats and stuff. Lots and lots of stuff.”
“Starman” by David Bowie plays on the radio and trees throw their shadows into the car as he navigates the twists and turns ofthe long, gravelled drive. He slows, and I look up to see his house appear. In the past, the Dower House was used for the dowagers of the family who upon their husband’s death would relinquish the main house to the heir and retire, usually in luxury to this house in the grounds.
Niall moved into the Dower House on the estate last year, claiming he’d be catching family if he stayed any longer. However, he still makes his way up to the main house for meals and coffee.
With a quick stop to open the five-bar gate we pull up on the forecourt in front of the house, and I look up at it curiously. It’s made of the same honey-coloured stone as the main house but was built at a later date, and it’s utterly charming. It seems to belong in its setting of the woods like a fairy-tale cottage, and the architect obviously played up to that with its gables and tall chimney stacks. It seems to flow over the space it occupies and its mullioned windows with their leaded lights twinkle cheerily in the moonlight.
We leave the car, and he saunters off to open the front door while I retrieve Cora’s car seat. I look at him as he comes towards me. “I’m looking forward to seeing inside,” I say as he grabs the changing bag and Cora’s Moses basket. “Last time I saw it, it resembled something that Miss Haversham might have been comfortable in.”
He looks startled. “You could have come round at any time.”
I break in quickly, feeling awkward because I sounded like I’d been angling for an invite and was piqued at not getting one. “Doesn’t matter. I was just curious. You know how I like those house renovation programmes.”
“You and old people,” he mutters. “What you find interesting in someone else’s house is beyond me. The only home I’m interested in is my own.”
“You have no soul or imagination.” I follow him into the hallway and look round. “Wow. This is lovely.”
The hallway has a floor made of aged flagstones which seem to be harmoniously mismatched, and the beams and woodwork have been sandblasted back to their natural pine. It’s warm and welcoming.
He smiles at me. “Have a walk around while I get the rest of the stuff.”
“Oh, I’ll help you,” I say hurriedly, but he shakes his head.
“Keep moving around. It might make her stay asleep and that’s our most important mission tonight, comrade.”
I shake my head but when he disappears outside again, I take his invitation. Carrying Cora in her car seat, I wander up a set of steps and into a wide, white-painted lounge with more sandblasted beams. Two large sofas in a French grey material sit opposite each other with a low coffee table in front of them, on which is a huge pile of unopened mail and a couple of newspapers obviously abandoned mid-read. Adjacent to the sofas is a large fireplace with a driftwood mantlepiece and there’s a set of French doors at one end which obviously leads out into the garden. I wander over and peer out but it’s too dark to see much apart from a stone patio area.
I retrace my steps and find his study next. That too is painted white with bookcases and a table over which there is splayed a big pile of maps. A huge old desk sits in the middle of the room that is so big I can’t see how they got it through the door. I wonder fancifully if the house was built around it. The desk is piled high with more mail and maps. I inhale the scent of his sweet woody aftershave and close the door behind me. I turn and jump when I find a pretty little tabby cat sitting in the hallway and staring at me.
“Hey, puss,” I say softly so I don’t wake Cora. “I wasn’t aware that Niall had a cat. Aren’t you pretty?” I reach out to pet her butjust as I get close, she hisses and swipes at my fingers with her paw before darting off.
“Bye,” I say faintly. “Nice to meet you.”
I wander down the corridor, poking my head into more rooms and finding a downstairs toilet and a dining room, painted grey. It has a table big enough to seat ten, and pulled neatly up to it are ten chairs upholstered in an expensive cream fabric. I shake my head and move on.
