He was extra careful on the roof and tied himself to a chimney. Of course, the damn thing would probably snap in half if he fell, but it made him feel more secure. He’d just hauled himself back inside the building when he felt his phone vibrate. He didn’t recognize the number.
“Lord Carlyle?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Stephen McInerney. You contacted me about the possibility of using Sharwood as a popup restaurant.”
“Yes.” Jago steeled himself for another no.
“I’m interested. How would you like to come to Van Zeller’s tonight, about seven, and we can discuss details.”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
Jago smiled, and his mouth watered. The last time he’d eaten there was when he’d come down from Newcastle for a friend’s birthday party. He put his phone away, and another call came through. He sighed. This had to be bad news. That was the way his life worked.
“Jago, it’s me.”
“Hi, Henry.”
“I’m just back from the supermarket with Ellie. She wants to cook for us. Seven. Okay? We have lots to tell you.”
Shit and fuck
. “I-I can’t. I’ve been asked to dinner. A possible business opportunity.”
“Ah. Some other time.”
“I’ll come after.”
“Right.”
Jago hadn’t missed the coolness in Henry’s tone, and no question, he’d much rather spend the evening with Henry and Ellie. But he couldn’t afford to let this chance slip. He walked into his room and slammed to a halt.
What the fuck?
Was this his room? He spotted his surfboard propped in a different place and exhaled.
Who did this?
It had to be Ellie. Jago walked around on a carpet he could now see and took in how much she’d done. What he didn’t understand was why and how. His clothes hung in the wardrobe and smelled clean. His medical texts were arranged alphabetically. There was no dust on anything, no dirty crockery, no wet towels, no dirty socks.
Bloody hell.
Jago switched from impressed to aggravated in a blink. These were
his
things. She had no right to mess around with them. There was stuff he didn’t want anyone to see, particularly the stack of magazines in his bedside cabinet. There were clean sheets on his bed, a little pile of change on the chest of drawers together with a watch he’d lost months ago. Aggravated overpowered grateful and whizzed to furious. He hadn’t asked her to do this. He didn’t need people interfering in his personal life.
He stalked out of his room, out of the house, and down the drive. He didn’t even knock on Henry’s door; he burst in and followed the sound of voices to the kitchen.
“Hi, Jago,” Henry said. “Change your mind? There’s plenty for three.”
“Don’t touch any of my things again,” Jago snapped.
“I was trying to help,” Ellie whispered.
“Well, don’t. I’m not looking for a fucking wife.” He turned on his heels and slammed out again.
What the hell’s wrong with her eyes?
Medical concern almost made him turn until he realized she probably wore contacts and that lovely dark green was fake. As fake as her.
Damn.
He’d taken no more than a few steps before he did stop.
Fuck it
. He walked back.
“Can I borrow the Land Rover?” he asked, avoiding looking at Ellie.
Henry threw the keys at him, and Jago stalked out again.
Chapter Seven
“You can’t even say thanks?” Henry barked.
He started to go after Jago, and Ellie called him back.
“It’s my fault,” she said. “I tidied his room without asking if it was okay. I should have realized he’d feel I was intruding.”
“He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
“I deserved it.” She bit her lip. “I get carried away. I thought it would be a nice surprise. I like making people happy, and I didn’t think about how he’d feel.”
Guilt churned her stomach. She’d tried to do something kind and ruined the only good thing to happen to her for ages. She didn’t blame Jago for being upset. If someone had done that to her bedroom, she wouldn’t have been pleased.
“Are you okay?” Henry looked worried.
She put a smile on her face. “Fine. I’ll apologize to him later.”
“Why don’t we design some tickets while the moussaka’s cooking?”
Just the thing to distract her. Between them they came up with a pretty design for a ticket with a dandelion clock in the corner.
While they were printing, Henry found the number of the chairperson of the WI and put it in front of Ellie.
She pushed it back. “You call. They’re more likely to help a single guy than they are me.”
He rolled his eyes but pressed the numbers into his phone. “Hello, is that Diane Morgan? This is Henry Harper. I’m… Oh, yes, that’s right. Sharwood. Well, we’re going to open the gardens to the public again, starting on Saturday, and I wondered if we could borrow cups, saucers, an urn, anything you think we might need really… Thank you. I was hoping for tables and chairs from the village hall… Oh, you do? That’s great… No, I don’t have any transport—well, only a Land Rover… Yes, I could come and look.” He glanced at Ellie. “In about an hour? Fine. What’s your address?”
Ellie passed him a pen and paper.
He switched off the phone and smiled. “She said she’d been waiting years to see the gardens. She used to come when she was a little girl and Jago’s grandparents lived here.”
“Don’t forget to tell her to spread the word. Give her free tickets for people who’ll help serve the refreshments.”
Henry dragged his fingers through his hair and looked so much like Jago that Ellie wondered why no one else had seen it. Looked like her spell on Henry had worked and he’d forgotten what she’d said in the café.
“There’s so much to do. I need to finish tidying the rose garden, the orchard needs mowing, the trellis trimming.” He groaned.
“Make a list. I’ll help too.”
Henry suddenly flung his arms around her.
“Want to know what else I’ve done?” she asked.
“What?”
When Ellie told him about her trip to the college, Henry’s eyes filled with tears. “You
are
a breath of fresh air.”
* * * *
After they’d eaten, Ellie cut and counted the tickets, bundling them into groups of twenty, and sent Henry with several packs to leave at shops in the village. She still had a lot to do that night and hoped she had the energy for it. She changed into old clothes and slipped the rose-gold ring onto a piece of string and tied it around her neck. Maybe it would sense the presence of the rest of the Kewen and give her some sign.
While there was still light to work by, Ellie made her way to the rose garden. She put on a pair of gloves and began deadheading the roses. A little spurt of magic, and she’d finished quickly. From the garden she made her way up to the house. No light in Jago’s window, so she guessed he was still out.
Her shoulders slumped as she walked past his door. She’d probably blown any chance of even being his friend, but she still wanted to help him. Ellie headed for the first of the lodger’s doors and knocked.
Five minutes later, after some cajoling, Ellie had persuaded all four to help her paint. As they chatted, they didn’t notice Ellie worked at double their speed. She carried on long after they’d left and gone to bed. She’d been surprised she could keep going so long and wondered if this was compensation for her powers being the weakest—she required less rest than the others to recover.
* * * *
The gatehouse was dark when Jago got back. His apology would have to wait. He put the keys through the letterbox and trudged toward the hall. It started to rain, and he groaned. The perfect end to a perfect evening. No point running; he’d be soaked anyway. As he drew closer to the house, he saw a figure heading toward him.
Ellie
. The breath caught in his throat.
What have you been up to now?
“Hi,” she said in a wary voice.
Jago came to a halt in front of her. “Sorry for shouting. Thank you for helping. I would much rather have eaten with you and Henry. I’d much rather have had your company.”
Her lips curved up. “Sorry for interfering. I shouldn’t have touched your things.”
“Friends again?” he asked.
Her smile sent his cock hard. Her pale face made his medical side concerned.
“What did you have to eat?” she asked.
“Nothing special. Yorkshire Dales pork, sage, and pear terrine with cider jelly and a miniature plum loaf. An Aberdeen Angus chargrilled beef fillet with fondant potato, nutmeg, truffle foam, and perigueux sauce. A triple white chocolate dessert of raspberry crème caramel, coated chocolate mousse, and a sponge topped by a white-chocolate fondant. Oh and some sort of sauce.”
Ellie laughed. “Not sure my food could compete with that.”
“It was a meeting about a popup restaurant,” he said. “I’m sorry I missed your meal.”
“You sure? I’d much rather have had what you ate.”
The sound of her laughing warmed his heart. She wasn’t mad at him. At least, not
that
mad. Jago reached to brush a wet lock of hair from her eyes, and his heart lurched as if it wanted to beat a way through his ribs and leap over to kiss hers.
“We’re getting wet,” she said.
“Is it raining?”
She smiled again. “I think there was something in the garden you failed to show me. A sort of summerhouse.”
“You want to see it now?”
“Why not?”
She held out her hand, and as Jago slipped his fingers over hers, he knew he’d have gone anywhere she asked.
By the time they were under cover, they were wet through. Jago tightened his grip on her hand, reached for her other, and held that too.
“I don’t know what it is about you,” he whispered. “Actually, I do. It’s everything, and if I don’t kiss you again in the next ten seconds, I think I’m going to explode. I might explode anyway.”
Ellie moved closer and brushed his lips with hers. A groan burst from somewhere inside him. She laughed. “Is that a warning of lightning to come?”
He pressed his forehead against hers. “You have any idea how close I am to dragging you down on the floor and stripping you naked?” He freed her hands and cupped her face. “I’m soaked. I should be cold and shivering, but being with you is like lying in the sun.”
Ellie clutched him tight, and as their lips clashed, they wrapped themselves around each other. Even as he yelled at himself to be gentle, he kissed her as though this was the last kiss he’d ever have. He couldn’t keep still, couldn’t stop clutching at her back as desperation overwhelmed sense. His mind reeled with the taste and scent of her. He was so hard, he hurt.
Jago needed to breathe, but this time he was determined not to be the one who broke away. He tangled his tongue with hers, twisted it and played and…
why the fuck doesn’t she need to breathe?
He pulled back, gulped air, then pulled her close again, his head rested next to hers as they shook in each other’s arms. His balls had drawn up around the base of his cock and were tingling with excitement. If he didn’t want to look like he couldn’t control himself, he needed to find a way down for a while. If she touched him, he’d had it. If he touched her, he’d had it. He couldn’t win.
“This really isn’t fair,” he whispered.
“What?”
“If a man makes a woman come fast, he thinks he’s a stud. If a man comes fast, she thinks he’s a dud.”
“Are you a poet?”
Jago shook with laughter against her and then groaned because that had further stimulated his tackle. “Wisecracks don’t help.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Don’t ask me that. Tell me to go away.”
“I don’t want you to go away.”
“Ellie,” he whispered.
“Promise to do everything I tell you for the next…er…hour?”
“Yes, Ms. Optimistic.”
“Don’t come.”
Jago’s chest tightened as he tried not to laugh. But when Ellie knelt on the floor at his feet and her fingers pushed the button free on his chinos, he couldn’t even breathe. She eased down the zipper over his straining erection and tugged at his pants until they pooled at his feet.
“Ellie.” Her name floated away into the rain.
She put her mouth over the bulge in his boxers and breathed on him, a rush of warm air that made his toes curl. She reached up and undid the buttons of his wet shirt and pushed it aside while she mouthed his cock through the material, and somehow he held it together, though he didn’t know how.
When his boxers were down and his cock was out scenting the air, he wondered if he’d ever seen it so hard. He concentrated on his breathing, taking in air slowly, drawing it deep into his belly. Theoretically that should help. In practice, he was too far gone. But he wanted—
oh God
. She licked the tip of his cock, precum shining on her tongue, and his mind fogged, his lungs locked. He gritted his teeth against the inevitable, and she reached between his legs and pressed in exactly the right spot behind his balls to stop him. He shuddered as the need to come lost its power.
Jago exhaled shakily and stroked her head. “We’re not still aiming for an hour, are we?”
She looked up at him with her strangely pale eyes, her face shimmering in the dim light, his cock in her mouth, and he forgot who he was. She kept up the pressure against his prostate while she licked and sucked and teased. Short fast sucks, long deep swallows while his balls danced in frustration. He smoothed wet hair from her face and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs and wondered who was making those weird sounds until he realized it was him.
“Ellie.” His whisper echoed around them.
She tightened her mouth on his cock, moved both her hands to his butt, and squeezed as he rocked into her, her fingers in the crack of his backside.
“Ah Jesus, Jesus.” No need to concentrate on inhale and exhale, only one thing on his mind. Orgasm burned at the back of his skull, fire raging in a confined space but ready to spread. Ellie took almost all of him into her mouth, and sparks shot down his spine and into his balls. He spurted between her lips over and over until he wondered how much more he had inside him. She swallowed and swallowed, caressing the head of his cock with her throat and tongue before she pulled back. Her tongue slipped out to lick cum from her mouth, and she smiled up at him.