Truly I Do

by

Katherine West

Published by Books from The Village at Smashwords

Copyright 2010

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Chapter one

Julie-Anne Keillor sat quietly in the window seat of her cottage and gazed out on the crisp autumnal afternoon. What was it about her life that she'd got so wrong?

Brimming with indulgent self-pity she allowed the hot prickle behind her soft, dark eyes to develop into wet tears; breathed in deeply and gave in to a sobbing moan. 'It's not fair!' she wailed to no-one in particular. She looked around the room. There, catching rays of afternoon sunshine on its dusty glass was a picture of her husband . . . her dead husband.

Ineffectually she threw her damp tissue at the photo frame. Soft, white and crumpled, it fluttered down by her feet having travelled only a few inches in the dusty air. "What am I supposed to do now?" She yelled, frustrated, at the man in the picture. "How am I supposed to be? How do I fill the gaps? . . . Who am I, now?" Through sodden tears she wailed again, flailing her fists toward him. There, in the dusty picture, in tropical sunshine, he just grinned stupidly, saying nothing.

She shifted around the window seat turning her back on him, allowing herself to become distracted by the rustle of her black taffeta dress. It was, she thought, a stupid dress to have put on for a funeral. It was meant to be an evening dress for cocktail parties. Well, there'd be no more of those would there?

The thing was, the funeral had been three weeks ago and she was still wearing the same dress. How had that happened?

At the end of each day she'd been to bed - to their bed. She didn't sleep she just lay there numbed and cold. Then, each day, she'd got up and put the dress back on. Wearing the dress made her feel as if the funeral hadn't happened yet, as if she could somehow delay the reality of it by denying that it was already in the past. 'Everything', she thought, 'is in the past now. My whole life has just become a past event. I'm twenty-seven, I'm five-foot two, I'm slim and healthy É and now I have no future. One moment I was the smart wife of a clever financier - I knew what was expected of me, what my role was every day. Now I have no role, no purpose, no identity.' The tears came again, this time she wept quietly. She hugged herself; her own arms wrapped around her; stroking her own slender back through the texture of the black taffeta fabric. Feeling empty, she wished there was someone in this world who could step in and do the stroking and the soothing for her.

Eventually she became still again. She sat demurely at the diamond leaded window of her cottage. She smoothed the skirts of that dress, crossed her elegant ankles very neatly, folded her slender hands in her lap and settled there, framed in golden, autumnal sunlight . . . waiting.

*

Russell Bryson-Steinar really didn't like being a high-school teacher.

A stubborn expression spread across his gently intelligent face setting a firm light in his crystal blue eyes. The skin across his high cheek bones tightened, straightening out the playful smile that usually kissed the corners of his mouth.

He didn't really like riding his bicycle along the village lanes, especially during the long autumn term when he had to ride out in damp dark drizzle - and ride back in damp dark drizzle. Surrey was a lovely county, lush, warm and fruitful in summer. But always it seemed that the softly rolling hills and ancient leafy woodlands were an entrapment for relentless chilling damp and bone-soaking mists in the winter months.

Each cold, dark school journey seemed to grimly reflect they way he had come to feel about his job. He was miserable about those pimply faced, belligerent and badly behaved teenagers in his class room. He'd come to loath marking their scruffy attempts at homework.

And he couldn't stand the new Head Master! A pompous double-breasted, grey jacketed man who insisted on being called "The School Manager". A pretentious man, Russell decided, who'd arrived from London full of stupid ideals and targets and weekly meetings. Russell was going to hand in his notice and . . . and . . . and do what? Who cared? He'd find some way to occupy his time. With a slight shake of his angelically blonde head he boyishly flicked curls of mist darkened hair away from his forehead and rode his dull old bicycle with an air of resolve.

Skimming over a frosted puddle, around the sharp corner by the cottage, at the point where the heavy boughs of a big oak tree blocked the view of the road ahead - he glanced up and saw that alluring, mysterious woman again. She'd been sitting by her window every day for over a fortnight, just staring out. He'd tried waving once but she did not respond. This time he slowed to a halt at the gate-post and looked. Observing the cottage scene, he dragged his fingers backward through his soft, curly blonde fringe, absent-mindedly stroking it away from his smooth, intelligent face. Gentle autumnal sunshine was finally breaking through dark grey morning clouds. It bathed everything in an unreal orange light. Garden trees looked like paintings, glowing in shades of gold and yellow. They cast long shadows that melted into the gloom where deep purple cloud still restricted the reach of the sun's rays.

Shining glimmers highlighted the panes of the cottage windows. And nestled amid all the scenery sat the delicate visage of that lonely woman. She looked even more petite sitting there all alone in her black dress behind the frame of the cottage window. Even from a distance her pale face looked so forsaken and remote. It was heart breaking to think how isolated she seemed to have become.

This was an icy sharp morning. But Russell was too fascinated to move quickly on. He pulled his thread-worn blue tweed jacket closed, because although he'd put on his pale blue cashmere sweater that morning, the frosted air was tightening the firm muscles of his chest. He pushed his hands into the warm pockets of his baggy navy corduroy trousers, he settled against his bike to watch her for a while.

He knew, from the gossip around the village, that her husband had died - killed in some kind of an accident. Everyone said, "She'll get over it in time. Just give her time." And no-one did anything to help her.

Russell stared at her.

She looked so lovely, pale skinned, serene and sad. Just sitting there, lost to the world in her sorrowful thoughts. She had long dark hair. It usually cascaded over her shoulders in rivulets of light reflecting waves. Now though, it was tired looking, ruffled and badly needing attention. Russell remembered noticing her around the village in the past. She'd been delicately bending to feed the ducks on the village green with her sumptuous hair falling down in a vibrant curtain that had glistened and shone in the mid-summer heat.

From where he was now he could see her eyes; dark, sagacious, almond shaped eyes. She reminded him a little of Audrey Hepburn, he decided. And surely if she were ever to smile again those eyes would be so lovely, eyes that now just stared into middle distance, oblivious of the vital world that Russell occupied. For a moment he was shaken as it occurred to him that she might be dead herself, just sitting there, not moving. But then she shifted slightly dropping her gaze to the floor. She wasn't dead, just sad.

"Perhaps they're right, she'll get over it. Just give her time," he thought. And even as that thought was forming he denied it. She needs help. I need help. But, what can I do? He swung his well exercised, muscular legs over his bike, pushed the pedal and rode slowly up the hill. Once again he was making his way to school, to his job, to his miserable life. Thoughts of that lovely woman had, for the time being, to be pushed aside. Day-dreams about taking her in his arms to dance; staring into those sultry eyes over a candle lit dinner; walking through the green fields under sun-kissed skies with his arm around her waist stroking and brushing that gorgeous hair . . . all that would have to linger in the deeper reaches of his mind.

Right now more mundane duties called.

At twelve-forty it was lunch time. Russell walked brazenly into the Head's office. His heart was thumping but he felt empowered. The Head looked up. Even the sight of this man's smug face and ugly grey suit sent Russell's pulse racing harder and made his temperature rise in a nasty prickly way. Mr. Finnegan! Oh how he hated Mr. Finnegan.

Finnegan had made Russell's miserable life even worse. Judging by the disdain in his expression he didn't rate Russell too highly either. "I resign!" Russell blurted. He was surprised to hear the rehearsed words actually come out of his mouth. "I resign!" He said again, as if testing the idea, "I resign!"

Mr. Finnegan raised one of his suspiciously femininely plucked eyebrows, "How old are you Russell?" he asked, smirking.

"Twenty-nine, sir."

Russell frowned, what had his age got to do with it? He'd just resigned hadn't he? What business was it of Mr. Finnegan - his age? "Why?" He added.

"What are you going to do with yourself then?" Finnegan turned his attention back to the sheet of paper on his desk, rather rudely Russell thought, as if he didn't care whether Russell answered him or not.

"I don't rightly know." Russell was honest. "But I don't want to stay here any more, sir. I'm over qualified for this job." It was true, he was an Oxford graduate of the highest degree. He should have taken the post offered to him in university and spent his life writing interesting books or going off on interesting field trips. But instead he'd wanted to 'come out into the real world' and get some life experiences before committing himself to the hallowed halls. He'd been - and still was - a fit, lively attractive young man with a verve for fun and adventure and a longing for something more than books and blackboards.

Now he was ready to realise that he'd disentangled himself from one rut only to get stuck into another. There was more to gaining life experiences than this. He needed to get out and stretch his wings before it was too late. He was also ready to realise that he didn't have to fulfil his father's decree that a decent man should have a frugal attitude, a decent job and work in humble circumstances for his living. Truth was that ma and pa had been dead and buried for some ten years now and the family holdings had long since been sold off.

Truth was also that Russell's grandfather, as he'd discovered, had made massive fortunes speculating in financial futures and trading in commodities such as diamonds and rare metals. It was a good thing that both his father and grandfather had been lucky to escape financial crisis at various times of global catastrophe and wise enough to protect their money and invest it well.

Russell was rich.

It had shocked him to find out just how much his father had owned, invested and salted away. But until now, until this very moment in Mr. Finnigan's office, he'd never felt inclined to take advantage of it. Until this very moment he'd simply carried on being the ordinary Jo-Bloe he had always been. His grey, elderly parents had had a grey and elderly attitude to their son's upbringing. They simply hadn't taught him, or allowed him, to think of himself as any kind of a wealthy person. They'd kept all knowledge of their fortunes a secret. As a result, he was never ostentatious, extravagant or capricious. Maybe it was time to put away their plain, boring, almost working class attitudes and learn to be the billionaire he really was . . .

"Hmmn!"

Finnegan interrupted Russell's trail of thoughts, "As a matter of fact I was just looking over your class achievements for last term. Your results aren't particularly spectacular are they?" He shot a challenging glance in Russell's direction.

My results, Russell thought, they're not my results they're the stupid students' results. It's not my fault they're all lazy little oiks, I've done my best with a bad lot I'd say. This arrogant swine is just making excuses! And anyway none of them got anything below a grade C; it was not as if they'd actually failed examinations . . . what was Finnegan on about? Aloud he simply said "There you are then. I resign."

The next statement from Mr. Finnegan shook Russell. Even in this bizarre situation he wasn't quite ready for it. "Well, I am glad you've come to me Russell, I was going to call for you this morning but I hadn't got around to it. I don't think you're really the right sort of chap to be locked up in a little back-lane school like this one, eh? You shouldn't be leading this history course in this school. We need people with, well, with a different approach. We need to grow this school!"

(A meaningless expression which Russell especially hated ' . . . and syntactically and grammatically dubious', he thought to himself).

Finnegan continued to babble; "I want to bring in executive minded people who can lead the business of schools to new horizons, who can push the envelope, whilst at the same time roping in the budgets, bolster the true potential of the school group, climb the Maslow pyramid . . . y'know? I want this to be a shining example of a school. I want to put it on the map Russell!"

Russell stared at him, Finnegan looked and sounded like a man with a dream - or an idiot with a head full of nonsensical delusions, depending on your point of view.

Russell's face was blank. 'Nothing to do with providing a good education then?' he thought, 'Just mindless money saving exercises and Governmental target mubo-jumbo!' Mindful of the need to give some kind of response to Finnegan, he nodded - but before he could actually say anything Finnegan continued "I happen to have a letter already typed here somewhere, Russell. You, um, you don't seem to have put your intentions in writing yet so let's just call it a mutual agreement shall we?"

Russell was now well and truly ready to get away. Muted by his astonishment he nodded again, "Mutual agreement" he repeated vaguely.

"Good, good!" stated Finnegan. "I think it would be best for all if you took a leave of absence for the last three weeks of this term don't you. I don't think anybody would benefit if I tried to force you to stay here among our little country bumpkin students now do you?"

He had risen from his chair and was holding out his hand as if to shake Russell's. Russell looked blankly at it, lifted his eyes to look at Finnigan's smug face, then he grasped the hand shake with all the enthusiasm he could muster.

"I agree." He heard himself say. "Will you be sending me the details of my final salary and so-on?"

"Good, good, yes." Finnegan smiled. "I'll have the girl type it all up for you. No need to be churlish about it, eh?"

Finnegan let go of Russell's hand.

Russell watched Finnegan sit down. The objectionable man carried on with his sheets of paper as if Russell had already left the room.

Russell left the room.

*

It was late afternoon. Julie-Anne was beginning to feel weak. She could feel the bruising effect around her eyes from lack of sleep. Her stomach hurt. How often had she eaten in the last few weeks? She couldn't quite remember. Her head ached from weeping. Fidgeting, she re-crossed her legs, listening to the rustle of that taffeta. She shifted her gaze from . . . whatever it was she'd been looking at . . . and adjusted her thoughts from deep inner imaginings to look out at the misty white November light that hung over her cottage garden.

There was a man outside the gate, standing astride his bike, staring at her.

Julie-Anne couldn't think who he was. She didn't recognise him. In fact, she decided, she'd never seen him before. She stared back. He was wearing good leather shoes, baggy blue corduroy trousers and an old looking blue tweed jacket. She could see that he had a good tan left over from the almost forgotten summer, it looked good against his curling blonde hair. He seemed to be about her age, maybe a little older, and he had the traces of pretty laughter lines around his pretty blue eyes. She liked him, she decided. But what was he doing there? She carried on watching to see what he would do next. Her heart began to race when he got off his bike, leaned it against her oak tree, and made his way to her front door.

Julie-Anne didn't know if she would get up to answer the door.

She did.

"Hello," she said.

"Hi!" he answered brightly.

She looked at his face, warm and nut brown against that misty white sky.

"I hope you don't mind, I've decided to come and see you," he was explaining, "you see I realise that you are not all right, that you need help. You shouldn't be left sitting all alone there. It's all very well people saying that time will heal but, well . . . hey . . . you know!" He beamed at her as if he'd just made a bright decision.

"What?" She mumbled, hearing her own voice for the first time in how many days, realising the stupor she'd been living in. "What do you mean?"

"I just mean I think you need a friend. I thought I'd come and talk to you, get you out of that window seat. Maybe even take you for a walk?"

Julie-Anne frowned. "Take me for a walk? Who are you?"

He grinned sheepishly. It made his attractive face even more endearing she thought. He spoke and his voice was like warm honey to her exhausted mind.

"I'm Russell. I am . . . that is, I was a history teacher in the school up the road. Only I've just been fired - or I resigned - or both. So you see I thought I'd take some time to come and see you, cos' I've got plenty of time now and you look like you need a friend."

"I see. Why were you fired?" She looked around to see if anyone else was lurking in the lane to come and interrupt her. The late afternoon was still, quiet and darkening quickly. She should feel uneasy but she didn't. "You can't come in!" She announced decisively.

"Oh. Okay then. Well, how about if you come out?"

They both looked down at Julie-Anne's black dress. It was looking very limp and creased. Julie-Anne began to laugh at herself. It was an hysterical laugh, one which ended in wretched, gasping, tears. Suddenly feeling dreadful she stared into Russell's face, her liquid brown eyes horrified. Quickly she clasped her hands over her mouth and retreated inside, slamming the door behind her.

That evening, alone, in the cool autumn gloom, in a fit of unbridled fury, Julie-Anne vented her rage and smashed quite a lot of the more exposed, modern crockery around her home before storming around the place ripping down shattering and splintering every picture of her lost . . . gone . . . stolen-from-his-life husband. Wildly she rampaged from room to room yelling tempestuously, saying nothing that made any sense. She hated everything. She wanted everything to go away . . . but it felt as if everything had gone away . . . she wanted everything back. Oh how she wanted her safe old life to just come back. Eventually she'd exhausted herself.

Chapter two

In the morning Julie-Anne awoke on the stairs feeling greasy and bruised and beaten. It was time, she felt tentatively, time to make a fresh start. It was time to "get on".

She took herself to the shower, peeled away that black taffeta dress and stepped delicately under silvery droplets of warming water that soothed and washed her skin. Relaxing, Julie-Anne woke up to herself; lathering scented soap over her firm belly and drawing her palms up over the sensitive skin of her neglected inner thighs. She found herself thinking not of her husband but of the delicious looking blonde haired man who'd come to her front door. She noted that she felt no guilt in allowing her thoughts to stray. She was emotionally numb, but feeling very physical, very alive through an alert awareness of her own body.

When she finally stepped from the steaming bathroom, the spike of cold morning air on her naked skin was fresh and invigorating. Feeling sensations of raw sexual hunger was, in itself, satisfying to her. Whilst she dressed, she felt hungry for good nourishment and wanted new energy to take the place of her recent feelings of hollow emptiness and fatigue. Greedily she planned an indulgent, old fashioned, cooked English breakfast. Clothed in tight jeans and a designer cut, pink tee-shirt, she felt free to enjoy the silkiness of her long hair as she brushed it dry and tied it in a long shining tail that hung down her back. For the first time in ages Julie-Anne greeted the day with some degree of enthusiasm.

Soon all doors and windows were open and she was immersed in the minutiae of furniture polishing, cupboard organising and other domestic tasks. On this new day the mundane chores did not bore her but absorbed her and made her feel as if she was clearing away more than just dust.

She was so involved in what she was doing that she nearly missed lunch and the very fact that she had an appetite made her feel better. It was two thirty by the time she had cooked and eaten the last remnants of a particularly good quality piece of cheddar cheese on bread that was too stale to make anything other than toast. Then, quietly contented, she resumed the final few chores, determined to get everything done.

Once she had had a good go through the cottage it seemed quite natural to take a walk down to the village store to restock the fridge, replenish the cleaning products and grab a newspaper to find out what was going on in the rest of the world.

She hunched into a camel coloured fleece duffle coat, pushed her feet into her warm, sheepskin boots and set out to crunch-crunch down the village lanes, stomping merrily through crisp frosted autumn leaves and thinly iced mud puddles. She found herself childishly delighted by the patterns she could blow with her breath as she marched along. She relished too the earthy smell of crushed acorns and rain soaked leaves.

When she turned the corner at the bottom of the lane, looking up to take in the typically pretty English county scene of frosted village green flanked by a thatched roofed store, small red brick cottages and rambling country pub, her heart skipped a beat . . . there was the delectable mop of blonde curls and the intelligent tanned face that had lingered deep in her thoughts since his visit to her home the previous afternoon. What had he said his name was? Russell?

He was standing outside the store with a newspaper, scrutinising some article. A scowl of deep concentration and the need for an overdue shave made his face look rugged and interesting. Despite the chill in the air he was wearing no more than a close fitting cream sweater over his tight boot-cut jeans.

The angle of his arms, crooked to hold up his newspaper, showed off his muscles. Hmmn, I like it, strong but not over developed! Julie-Anne mused. Good god, I could do with finding myself a man that looked like that! She found, as she grew closer, she was even attracted to the fragrances of this man, breathing gently she could smell his aftershave and a hint of coconut probably from shampoo.

She felt her belly tighten with anticipation for the way his voice seemed to awaken some deeply sensual urge in her. When she stopped next to him she could barely take her eyes of his hands and fingers which suddenly seemed so sexy to her. She was slightly jarred to find that after shifting her gaze away from his hands, she was staring at his mouth and flooding with a lustfully hungry desire to kiss him. 'For goodness sake,' she thought, 'this guy is total stranger . . . what am I thinking!' Luckily he looked up, grinned, and broke the enchantment before she made an utter fool of herself. Seeing her standing so close, his face coloured warm red under the bronze remnants of his summer tan. "Oh, hello!" he spoke gently. "Good to see you're out and about today."

She shoved her hands deeper into the soft pockets of her duffle coat. "Erm, yeah. Thanks! Thanks for yesterday too. I think you meant well, y'know, coming to see me. And look - it worked, here I am!"

"Well, I'm glad, if I helped." He stood aside to make way for her to get into the store. She did not move.

"Hey" she said brightly, "how about popping 'round this evening for a little light supper? Y'know, give me someone to cook for sort-of-thing. What do you think?"

His blue eyes searched her face. As she looked up at him, waiting for his response, Julie-Anne thought 'wonderful eyes!' and she smiled. But then she thought 'What am I doing? I'm scared; I want my husband back; I want the safety of my old life back; I feel like I'm standing over a precipice.' A sensation like falling swam through her, she panicked feeling as if she would faint. Helplessly she clung to the smile that was fixed on her numbed lips.

"Okay" he decided. "What time shall I come 'round?"

His question jerked her back like a life-line. They agreed that six o'clock was a sensible time. They also agreed that spaghetti bolognese, whilst renowned for being a boring old stand-by and wholly unimaginative, would be a good choice for her to cook. He followed her back into the store so that he could pick up a bottle of wine. . . . Then they agreed that he might as well carry her shopping for her and come back up to her cottage straight away.

"After all," Julie-Anne chattered easily, while she finally finished selecting everything she wanted from the shelves, "it's past four o'clock now. And it's not as if you need to go get dressed up or anything. Unless you need to go home first, of course?" Russell reassured her that he had no particular reason to go home. The autumn evening was closing in around them already, it was pretty dark by now so, privately, they each felt glad that Julie-Anne wasn't walking home alone.

Whilst Julie-Anne cooked, Russell sat comfortably in her old rocking chair beside the kitchen range. She'd poured him a big glass of red wine and thought how naturally he fitted into this place. He seemed so relaxed, his tousled blonde hair framed his handsome bronzed face and curled around his head like a halo over an innocent, blue eyed child. His arms and shoulders were settled in such a way that made his whole demeanour look handsome and comfortable. Something about the centuries old kitchen, its wattle and daub walls, its brown oak beams and its flagstone floor just seemed to fit around him as if he was a natural fixture of the room. She should know - Julie-Anne had been born and brought up in this house. She'd moved back in after university graduation, coming home with a first class degree in fine arts and history of art. When her parents retired to her aunt's place (her mother's sister) in New Zealand, she'd just carried on living there. When she'd married a safe sensible financier he'd just moved safely and sensibly into the cottage, fitting his things in beside hers. While she was stirring bolognese sauce, she thought about her marriage. They'd rubbed along together, each unimaginatively carrying on with life pretty much as it had been before they'd married. Inwardly Julie-Anne groaned. 'Did I actually love him? No, I don't think I did. I just took him on because he was convenient. How awful . . . what's wrong with me?'

"Penny for them?" Russell broke into her thoughts.

"Sorry!" she snapped back into the present, "This pasta's nearly ready to serve." She glanced over her shoulder to admire him again, "Tell me how long you've lived in the village? You're over at Joe's old place on Bramley Orchard Lane aren't you?" 'Oh lord,' she thought while he answered her, 'this guy actually turns me on, I really fancy him. I'm supposed to be a grieving widow but now here I am just turning into a horny old cat.' She turned her back to Russell and worked hard at concentrating on what he was saying.

"Joe's place . . . yeah. I started renting it about five years ago when I came to work at the school. How about you?"

Julie-Anne's answer to this question sparked a happy flood of discussion about childhood memories and school-days experiences. She quickly noticed how easy it was to talk with Russell. Ladling out the food and moving to sit at the old kitchen table happened naturally while they were concentrating on each other's anecdotes or laughing at each others recall of daft experiences and past events. Never in her life had Julie-Anne felt so 'at home', even in her own place . . . had she?

By nine o'clock they had finished off the wine, drunk coffee and Russell was engaging her interest in a tale of student antics about the time he'd gone off on a field research trip to a town in Norway, ostensibly to look at archeological evidence of Viking settlements there.

Leaning on her elbows at the table with her hair flowing over one shoulder and her designer T-shirt sliding gently off the other shoulder, in the glow of the open range fire, Julie-Anne yawned. It was a warm, comfortable moment. The voice inside her head murmured 'I could slide onto the rug on the floor by the fire and this man could snuggle down there with me and I could massage my thighs against that rough, unshaven chin.' The wickedness of her imagination came without remorse. Her eyes twinkled merrily, she hoped he wasn't a mind reader - did her face betray her thoughts? She grinned and yawned again, "Sorry! I think the food, wine and such good company were responsible for that," she apologised, "I haven't had such a long and lovely chat with anybody for longer than I can remember."

His concerned look cooled and sobered her a little, "D'you want me to go?" he asked gently, "I should go home and let you get some rest."

"Oh, no please don't go. I'm not tired, not really. And besides, look out the window - it's pouring with rain." She saw that he hadn't noticed the sleety rain on the windows. She thought about how she could lean right across the table and kiss his strong mouth, that sweet little smile in the corners of his lips was so alluring.

He broke the spell by jumping up, "Oh gods, I'm gonna get soaked! I really should go!"

"Please don't." Julie-Anne was alarmed now. He shouldn't go. He should stay here. He belonged here, she was sure of it. "I - I could make you up a bed in the spare room. It's a nice room," she coaxed.

He look at the rain running down the little diamond panes of her kitchen window. "We-ell," he shrugged, "I suppose it couldn't hurt. After all it's not as if I have to go to work in the morning or anything."

Her grin returned. "You make another coffee while I go see to the bed for you."

Upstairs it was cold and Julie-Anne shivered as she pulled crisp clean white cotton sheets from a chest of drawers in the low-ceilinged little bedroom. She gazed at the bed after she'd made it. It was soft, an old four-foot wide bed with a comfy old iron frame and characteristically creaky springs. Satisfied that Russell would be very snug there overnight, she went back down to fetch him. In the kitchen he was standing at the sink, finishing off the washing up.

She stood beside him to pour from the jug one more round of hot coffee that he'd made.

He shot her a sidelong look, his expression coloured with mischief "Hey, I've been thinking,"

"Yeah?" she watched his sparkling blue eyes, they were focused down into the soapy water.

"I thought I might go back to revisit Stavanger in Norway. Renew the studies I started in university, revive my old interest in ancient history, maybe have an adventure or two. Maybe even get 'round to writing a book or two. What do you think?"

Julie-Anne felt herself drain. Lust, life, the pleasures of their shared evening all drained down out of her, leaving her legs feeling weak and hollow. She couldn't hide the disappointment that drew a mask across her face. "Oh?" she mumbled, "Sounds like a plan."

Just as she turned to move away from him he reached across to grab a tea towel, somehow she found herself standing between his arms. Blinded by dizziness, she put her hands on his chest to steady herself. There was nowhere to look but up, up into those enchanting blue eyes. He was smiling down at her. His reaction to her touch was to softly place his hands in the small of her back and steady her. "You okay?" His voice was now quiet, coming from deep in his throat, making his chest rumble. Quenched by the sound of it, she kept her eyes closed hoping he would continue to soothe.

She trembled.

"I think we've over tired you," he murmured soothingly. Julie-Anne couldn't speak, she just stood there blinking dumbly, opening her eyes, gazing up into his gentle face, trembling and closing them again. She longed to press herself into his body, to abandon herself to his mouth, for the world around them to go totally black and leave her suspended in pure pleasure.

It seemed as though a gale of coldness rushed over her front when he broke his hold. He lifted one hand to brush a blonde curl back from his forehead. "D'you want to go to bed?"

Julie-Anne felt turmoil welling through her. After all he'd given no real indication that he returned her lustful desires. Surely he was thinking that they were just making friends? She tried to steady herself, what did he mean by 'go to bed'? It was one thing to harbour wanton thoughts deep in her private mind, but Julie-Anne did not want him to think she was some kind of slut who jumped into bed with any man that came around for dinner. She felt confused, what should she do? Wildly she darted a look at the kitchen door, this broke the dilemma of physical intimacy and she was able to pull back. As she withdrew to the distance of the table, it felt as if she was stepping out from a snug winter coat. She immediately missed his being so close. "Yup!" she blurted, not looking at him, "C'mon; I'll show you the way to the spare room."

He dropped the tea towel on the draining board and meekly followed her up to the rickety wooden door of the spare room. "Bathroom's there." She pointed. "I'll leave the landing light on in case you need to get up in the dark." She prayed that she was coming across as matter of fact, he was just a friend stopping over in her house, inwardly she was still panicking. Did she look like a desperate housewife? Had he guessed how she'd been thinking about him?

"Cheers" he nodded amiably. "Go get yourself some sleep, eh! I'll see you in the morning."

Julie-Anne smiled weakly. Just as she was turning to go down the hall Russell tilted his head and winked at her. Her stomach flipped; at once she could see that his gesture was intended as a signal of friendship, but at the same time she found it deeply attractive. That wink was a confident, masterful expression, it made her want to melt. He disappeared through his door. For a moment longer Julie-Anne stood confused, cold and developing a headache. She drew in a deep breath before going to lie down on her bed. Soon after lying down on her cool quilt she'd floated away into post-wine oblivion while darkness seemed to rock and spin around her pillow like an ancient ocean.

She dreamed. Her dream was set in darkness with just the glow of an ethereal fire floating somewhere close to her, warming her naked back while, in her dream, Russell warmed her naked front with hungry kisses, moving his mouth over parts of her she'd almost forgotten existed. When she awoke she felt as if she had actually spent the night making love with him. 'As long as I can keep it locked deep inside during daylight hours, so that I don't spoil our friendship', she thought, 'I could really get to enjoy this!'

*

'Nothing', thought Russell, 'can beat the smell of fried bacon and fresh coffee being prepared by someone else while I'm still in bed waking up'. He felt very cheerful. He ran his fingers lazily through his mass of curls, pulled on his clothes and shuffled along to the bathroom savouring the smoothness of ancient wood floorboards under his still naked feet. When he finally arrived in the kitchen Julie-Anne looked down at his toes and grinned.

"Tell me more about this jaunt out to the Fjords you're planning?" she asked, while daintily serving out scrambled eggs, bacon and big hunks of country bread.

He poured them each a coffee and sat opposite her.

'Gods,' he thought, before beginning to answer her question, 'she's even more beautiful first thing in the morning while her eyes are still slightly out of focus and her hair is all rambling down her back.' He realised he was staring at her and tried to concentrate on his plate. "Well, . . . " he began; and that was how they passed the day, Julie-Anne set up her lap-top on the kitchen table and they explored every site they could find that told them anything about Norway, Vikings or travel to areas he might want to visit.

Somehow it came to be three in the afternoon and she was cutting unhealthily large slabs of fruit cake and country cheese to go with a cup of hot chocolate before she finally, hesitantly, said "I wouldn't mind going with you, you know. What do you think?"

Inwardly Russell breathed a soft sigh of relief. A dilemma between wanting desperately to follow his heart and go back to the roots of his original scholarly interests in history had been tug-of-warring inside him against this new and deeply felt interest he had developed for Julie-Anne. How could he possibly be wanting to go off and leave her after having just found her? And she was so delicate and vulnerable too. She was not weak or self-pitying, he liked that about her, but she was wounded and fragile. He did not want to leave her. She was looking expectantly at him, he beamed and straightened his back "I thought you'd never ask! Anyway - I might not even go, not straight away, it's just an idea."

Seeing how her irresistible dark brown eyes became radiant with excitement at the prospect of a shared adventure, Russell felt overwhelmingly happy. "I s'pose I'd better go down to my own place soon" he mumbled through a mouthful of cake. "If I stay here too long you're gonna make me fat!" He watched an array of emotions move through the depths of her thoughts. Silently she nodded. "Tell you what," he added, "come to mine, day after tomorrow . . . give me time to clear the place up a bit before I have my turn at providing our supper."

Chapter three

The next day saw Russell in a veritable whirlwind of activity. He'd come home to realise just what a poor state he'd let the house get into. But halfway through the rampage of brutal scrubbing, throwing out and polishing, he received a phone call from school. It was about eleven-thirty. The sixth-form administrator was in a tizzy about some homework that the students claimed to have handed in for marking. Russell thought hard and was able to direct the woman to the whereabouts of the missing papers.

Then, at noon, he got a call from the publisher's agent who had been helping him with the arrangements for writing a contributing chapter for a text book. He'd been fiddling about with this submission for weeks - it would be good to have some time to get this done, now that he didn't have to drag himself up to the high school every day. He thought about it as he carried on with his household chores.

Then he'd run out of bleach . . . and the bathroom - well! So he hopped in the car and whizzed out to the store to pick up the bleach and a few other 'bits and pieces' - determined to make his home seem slightly less lacking in creature comforts. He didn't know what this new relationship with Julie-Anne was going to develop into, but he wanted her to feel comfortable around him and not think that he was a useless slob.

He was just back from the shopping errand when the phone rang again. Suppressing a curse he lifted the receiver "Hello?"

Silence.

"Hello? Who's there?"

A soft whimper.

"Hello? Look if this is one of the kids from school just . . . "

"No!" a broken voice cut in, "It's me, it's Julie-Anne."

Russell relaxed. "Oh, hi. How are you today?"

"Scared."

"Of . . .?"

"I was worried in case you changed your mind, y'know, about having me 'round tomorrow?"

"Listen you'd better be coming here tomorrow. I'd be really miffed if I thought I was doing all this housework for nothing." He tried to keep a light, teasing tone in his voice. She was sounding truly miserable; he wanted to cheer her up. He listened to her breath as she smiled quietly to herself on the other end of the phone line. "Tell you what" he added, looking wildly around at the state of his half cleaned rooms, "why don't you come early in the morning and we'll make a proper day of it. Would that suit you?"

Now she was crying. She made no sound but Russell could sense it. His mind raced, trying to think of the right thing to say. Then she sobbed loudly and her thoughts started to pour into the telephone receiver. Russell hoped he had the strength to catch her feelings gently and support them in the way that she must need.

"I don't know what to do!" She was wailing, "This, well, this is wrong isn't it. I - I mean, I'm really only just widowed aren't I? What am I doing chasing around after you, eh?" She caught her breath and her voice softened to a hoarse whisper.

"I was so afraid Russell. I thought you might say 'hey, look, just go away, stupid woman'! I thought you might not really want to see me again tomorrow. I don't know what to do - this is all so weird. I feel weird, I do truly. One minute there I was being a bored housewife with all my routines, dull days and daily grumbles. Life was easy. I didn't have to think about it, I just got on with it. My single biggest problem, my only problem was occasionally wondering what had happened to the good old days of wine and roses kind-of-stuff. What was my marriage all about? Why did it get so stale so quickly? I was just drifting along in a convenient relationship, y'know. I was only married for five years - but we weren't really lovers any more. We were just convenient companions for each other - you know? Then, next thing, he'd been snatched away, snuffed out like a candle! And I'm supposed to just keep carrying on am I? I'm not used to being on my own, Russell I'm not . . . I'm not very . . . I don't know how to do it, I don't know what's right . . . I'm lost Russell."

Russell wondered what to say. He couldn't be surprised by this outpouring. Should he ask her about her husband or should he just focus on her in the here-and-now? If he sounded sad or sorry would that make things worse? If he didn't sound emotional how would he sound? Callous he supposed.

She carried on - "I sometimes think I should be crying but I just can't. Then I start and it seems as if I'll never stop. Then I think I hate him for leaving me and I get angry. Then I remember how I'd thought I'd loved him, y'know, in the very early days. Then I find I'm crying because actually our marriage had lost its soul, lost its passion . . . or had it? After only five years? I don't know. I don't know what to feel, what to do, what to think. My mind's in chaos. All those times when you think that you'd be so much better off if you lived on your own and could just do things your own way, suit yourself. But then when it's landed on you, you feel guilty, empty, lonely - how does that figure?"

There was a long silence. She'd stopped speaking. Still Russell didn't know quite what to say. "I don't quite know what to say or how to say it," he confessed to the phone receiver, wishing he could scoop her up and hold her, "I wish I could make it all all right for you. I'm so sorry that you're having to go through all this."

She sighed resignedly. "No-one ever knows what to say." She uttered mournfully. "I sure wouldn't know what to say to me right now. There's no answer I don't think. Maybe that's why I'm scared. I"m sorry to burden you on the phone with all this. I think I just panicked! Do you - still want to see me again?"

"Tell you what" he said as he was wishing he could just reach out and fold his fingers into her hair and kiss her, "I'll phone you back in about an hour. I'll go and make a cup of tea and finish my house work. You go and make a cup of tea and fix your face or whatever it is you women are supposed to do after crying (he hoped she realised he'd said that tongue in cheek, he hoped it was a stupid enough thing to have said to make her smile again), and I'll call you in an hour so that you know I really do want to be your friend. Okay?"

Controlling her breath she answered. "Okay." But Russell knew that she was going to find it hard to put down the phone.

"Go on then" he encouraged gently, "go put the kettle on, and remember we're both having a nice hot strong cup of tea, kind of together."

"Erm,"

"What Julie-Anne?"

"I don't like tea!"

He felt so relieved. For the moment at least she was finding her sense of humour. "Get off with you!" he scolded. "Make coffee, pour a glass of wine even. I'm going to hang up now 'cos I've got a very special friend coming tomorrow and I've got to finish my chores. Okay? Go!"

They both hung up.

They each lingered by the phone in case the other called back immediately. Then they each went to their kitchens. He made a cup of tea. She stood by the sink and stared out at the shadowy trees in her back garden.

For Russell some parts of the next hour rushed past too quickly. He had a hard time getting to grips with the vacuum cleaner bag which split and spilled its ghastly grey contents all over the living room floor when he'd tried to change it for a fresh one. He felt he would never finish getting the house the way it ought to be. Then he stopped to think about Julie-Anne, how confusing and painful the re-adjustments of her life must be right now. How beautiful her face was when she smiled. How much he liked being with her. How good she smelled now that he was remembering her. How sensual he imagined she could be. For that part of his hour the time dragged as he longed to phone her and hear her voice again.

His hands actually trembled when he dialled her number.

"Hi Russell," she said, sounding grateful.

"How'd you know it was me? Could have been anybody phoning you!"

"Nah - no-one's phoned me for ages. You're the only person who's got nothing better to do, you lay about."

"Hey!"

Their conversation went on for about fifteen minutes. They discussed the vacuum cleaner incident; the trees in autumn; how to get through life in an English country village if you never drink tea and a funny incident involving the students in Russell's ex-class. From time to time they said nothing for a few moments and Russell worried about how she was feeling. Once, she tried to apologise for phoning him in a panic earlier, but he told her he was glad she had, and he meant it. Eventually he said, "Listen, I've still got one or two things to do. How about if I call you back again in another hour from now?"

"Really?"

"Really!"

"Okay."

. . . Their final hourly phone call finished at some time after two a.m. when Julie-Anne promised she'd go to bed and get some sleep so that she could be with him early in the morning. He stroked the smooth back of the telephone receiver as he laid the handset in its cradle. He wondered what the next day would bring. He hoped it would bring them close together . . . or was she right? Was it too soon to have designs on her? Was she too vulnerable? Was he too vulnerable? "Well, in for a penny" he thought, I've taken this too far to back out now.

*

The next morning Julie-Anne was surprised to wake up and find that she had slept. She lay in her bed feeling warm. Lying there she caught herself wishing that Russell would just walk quietly through the door and slip into bed beside her. Then she was twisted by a pang of guilt, surely she should be longing for her husband not some chap she'd only just met? Now her body felt like a lead weight as she climbed out of bed - until she caught sight of herself in the mirror and started to laugh at the thought of what any man would say about her faded old yellow brushed cotton nightie. Had her husband ever commented on it? No! He'd never even noticed it. Well, it was comfy! If Russell was going to like her, even as a friend, he'd just have to like the true Julie-Anne. He would have to like she who was comfy in an old brushed cotton nightie . . . with the hem hanging down a bit and the lace missing from one sleeve! If he wanted to become more than just a friend then the nightie probably wouldn't matter. It was worn so thin he could probably rip it off her like those times in the movies when new lovers just can't wait to get their hands on each other. "Hah!" she laughed aloud at her mirrored self. "I've become a boring old frump! I really should think seriously about smartening up my image."

She thought again about the idea of Russell ripping off her nightie. He certainly had all the right muscles, all the right shapes in all the right places. She reflected on what she'd seen of his body; smooth, well formed shoulders; a fit, firm, broad chest supported by a trim waist and strong, slender hips. She'd noticed too that he had well exercised thigh muscles, the kind that looked as if you could spit roast them and feast on perfectly formed meat. And his bum was so-o-o cute, maybe it was all the bike riding, or maybe he just worked out - but that guy had all the right tones in all the right places!

While she was day-dreaming, her hands were smoothing over the front of her chest, feeling the warm brushed cotton, feeling the sensitive breast skin underneath as she warmed to her thoughts of Russell. She pulled off the nightie and stared at her nakedness. Her own legs were firm and smooth; her breasts were small and didn't droop; the firmness of her belly and the slight curve of her small hips were pleasing. Well, she was only in her mid-twenties, hardly likely to be past it just yet, she decided.

Somewhere deep inside, a tiny voice added 'yes but you're used goods Julie-Anne. You're an old married woman, a widow even. Men aren't going to be interested in you'.

She shrugged away her doubts. It was too lovely a dawn for today to be dragged down by misery. It was Sunday too, she realised; the village would be quiet and calm today - fewer nosey neighbours to watch her going about her visit.

Filled with a fervent passion to be with him, she dressed quickly in a close-fitting creamy lambs wool dress. The wool over her thighs and buttocks did not leave much to the imagination. The soft, rolling cowl neck framed her face - adding, she thought, a pretty touch to her overall appearance. Feeling a bit cheeky, she selected hold-up stockings instead of tights and pulled on her boots with an inward grin. Her hair was quickly brushed to hang dark, lustrous and shining down her back over the soft creamy dress. Make up was lightly but expertly applied to enhance her dark, almond shaped eyes and moisten and plump her lips. And soon she was stepping out into the crisp brightening morning to walk down through the village and find Russell's house.

The earthy fragrances of English countryside were enhanced by clean, clear, cold air. The soft sounds of little birds stirring and dried leaves rustling in the autumn trees was enhanced by the peacefulness of the early hour. The village green, the store and the pub were peaceful; lying as they did in the dip of the green valley basin, silvered by autumn's frosted dew.

She walked past the side of the store and began the climb up Bramley Orchard Lane. Here the trees that flanked the lane were ancient apples. They smelled sweet even though the fruit had been harvested and the leaves mostly dropped. The orchard meadow grass around the trees was thick, wet and beginning to lose its vibrant green where tufts and tussocks overlay one another and turned the stems to hay. Over the orchard trees she could admire the view of rolling meadow hillsides sloping gently out of the valley. Atop some of the hill crests were richly dark forest pines in small clusters, or stray remnants of deciduous wild-woods where the farmers had cleared around them to make their fields. Overhead she saw the Surrey sky was perfect blue and the autumnal sun, although too weak to be warm, coloured everything with beautiful hues of pink, gold, orange and amber. Julie-Anne felt alive and excited.

Realising just how very early it was, Julie-Anne paused at the gateway looking down the brick cobbled path to the pretty little Lutyens cottage. The season had robbed the cottage garden of its foxgloves, lupins and even the roses had faded and melted away. She stared at the front windows of the cottage and caught her breath when she saw Russell move through the rooms inside. She saw his golden curls catch and reflect early morning light and, as he had not yet put his shirt on, she saw the smooth ripple of his strong shoulder muscles under lightly tanned skin. Something fluttered deep in the pit of her belly causing her to think hard about what she was feeling. This man was deeply attractive, she knew that, but there was something else about him. He was gentle, he had a sweet nature and he had been so kind to her.

Could it be that she was falling in love with him? No. She shook herself. How could she be falling in love when she was still recoiling from the pain of the loss of her husband? But had the loss of her husband really caused her pain? Oh, there was no denying the tragedy of his death. But she had not really been in love with him. The initial elation of their short marriage had fizzled away so quickly she'd hardly known what had happened. She realised now that the romance and adoration she had accredited to their whirlwind romance was probably all in her imagination. He'd just acted in the way he thought he was expected to act, taking her out, buying her dinner and generally going through the motions of a stereotypical wooing . . . culminating in his having won the convenience of a wife. And, very soon after they'd married, that was all she was to him - a convenience. For the remainder of their five years together they had just rubbed along, not hurting each other, not hating each other and not loving each other. How sad. Tears welled up warm and soft behind her eyes. She let them spill over, comforted by the familiar feeling of sinking into her own loneliness and lack of self-worth.

A tiny part of her still wanted to rush to Russell's front door and bath in the glow of their warm friendship. But the majority of her conscious thought now concentrated on a strong inclination to turn on her heels and run home to sit alone and safe in a darkened corner. 'I shouldn't bother to fall in love', she thought, 'I'm not worth loving back - so what's the point. Russell certainly isn't looking for a wife, not even a silent, convenient one. So what would I get - rejected! Yeah, big time rejection! I don't want that!'

The trail of her miserable thoughts was disrupted by Russell who threw open the front door to his cottage and shouted "What on earth are you doing standing out there in the cold, you goose?" He flashed her a brilliant smile that melted into her heart and warmed her through to her toes. But still she resisted the urge to run to him. Instead she shrugged sulkily and dragged herself down the path feeling as if she was walking toward the worst kind of doom. Russell seemed to sense the cold shoulder. His smile disappeared and he sobered his attitude. She could see he was disappointed; he had started the day in a playful mood.

She deftly avoided brushing against the silky form of his tight, muscular, naked chest as she passed him. Her wish that he'd had the decency to put some clothes on brought a frown to her face. The frown cleared as she looked around and took in the snug and restful homeliness of the interior of the old cottage.

Her brightening gaze swept across warm red-brick herringbone floors that were adorned by beautiful antique rugs. The cosy entrance hall opened out to a spacious lounge area. She caught sight of a beautiful, welcoming log fire already crackling in the Inglenook.

Smiling, she eyed the comfortable looking antique Chesterfield and surrounding wing-back chairs that curved around the fire's glow. A couple of antique polished oak tables were well dressed with red and blue Ironstone china and lush green house plants which gave the room a congenial air. She'd visited Joe's old cottage a few times as a small child and had remembered it as a dark, dank slightly malodorous place. Now it was a delight to be here. Cheered-up and forgetting her resolve to keep her distance she swung around to tell Russell what a lovely home he'd created. He was immediately behind her and she suddenly found herself looking up into the fathom-less depths of his clear blue eyes. She noted the cheery crinkles around those smiley eyes and the healthy glow of his smooth skin. The scents of shower products mixed with male musk filled her senses as he seemed to envelop her in an unexpected, strong and irresistible embrace.

"I've been looking forward to this!" he murmured.

The next thing Julie-Anne knew was that his warm, dry mouth was pressed against hers and his sensuous tongue was exploring her lips to find out what would evoke the most sensitive responses in her. His touch excited nerve endings and sent electrifying thrills through her spine. He was kissing her with thoughtful care, finding her weak spots and tenderly playing over them whilst seemingly measuring her reactions through feather light fingertips. He stroked and explored her back, encouraging her petite body to arch toward him in submission, pressing her against the firmness of his chest and drawing her deeper into his full embrace.

Startled, Julie-Anne had just melted into the experience. As she became more consciously aware of what was happening to her she thought 'My goodness! I have never been kissed like this before!' She'd been bracing her hands against his pectoral muscles, but now that she was becoming lost in newly awakened carnal desires, and had closed both her eyes and her mind to the realities of the dawning day surrounding them, her hands began to explore the curves and creases of his naked upper body.

He had tangled his fingers in her hair and was holding her head firmly into his kiss. She had smoothed her hands over his shoulders, down the muscular perfection of his arms and around to the firmness of his back muscles so that she could press him closer to her body. Her breasts, suddenly brought to life by this new experience, were hungry for attention and she was enjoying the feeling of his warm body squeezing them under her soft dress and bra. She wanted to move, to excite her nipples even more against him, but lost in the moment she did not. Indeed, she felt, the yearning he was awakening in her, the anticipations and thrills that were erupting deep within her body, were just too exquisite to dare to disturb. She could have stayed locked in that embrace for ever.

Eventually it was Russell who broke the seal between them. Gently lifting his head he looked down at her. "Hmmn!" He mumbled, looking slightly smug. "That was a very nice supplement for breakfast!" Cheekily he licked her lips with the tip of his tongue and his radiant smile seemed to lighten something within her. She felt a cool spot as he pulled his fingers down through her hair to release her - and unlocked the arm that had been around her waist. Suddenly, she was no longer in his clutches.

He stepped away.

"Coffee?" he asked, turning toward the lounge. "I'd just put a tray of hot coffee and toast in here when I saw you arriving, come join me." He looked back over his shoulder and winked at her, that little gesture that sent an electric thrill down through her groin. Seeing that she was vaguely hesitating he stretched back one hand to grab hers and pulled her into the lounge after him.

Chapter four

Julie-Anne and Russell sat together on the deep burgundy, leather Chesterfield in his lounge, sharing his breakfast of toast and coffee.

Julie-Anne was struggling internally, fighting to resist the urge to say "I love you, I love you". Instead she listened while he talked; so that, slowly, she was switching off all the emotions that swarmed through her mind.

"I had a good phone-call from someone other than you yesterday", he told her.

"Hmmn?"

"Yeah, I need to go to Yorkshire, to a little place near Harrogate. It's business, but while I'm up there I could spend a few days looking at some local archeological digs and seeing the Viking artefacts. I'd be kill two birds with one stone - y'know? Mixing business with pleasure!"

"Oh?" Julie-Anne felt numb. They'd just found each other and now he was going to go away.

He looked at her with a boyish grin and carried on, "Well I think I should make this visit. I've been invited to go talk to some archaeologists at the British museum. This trip would help me to do a bit of exploring and revive my enthusiasm for the hands-on stuff, instead of just sticking to books. It's been a long time since I left university and I could do with some catching up on new findings up there; maybe see some new ideas in the field."

"I see." Julie-Anne had kept her answer brief, she was now thinking to herself 'There! You see, no sooner have I fallen into his arms than he's busy going off, going away from boring old me, off to pastures new. I'm being played with for his convenience until he goes away and drops me.' She shifted away from him, feeling cold despite the crackling fire.

She realised he had said something and she wasn't listening. "Sorry?" she prompted.

"I said - I'm going for a couple of weeks to start with, to suss things out, meet a few people. Will you come?" His face was serious now. "I think it would do you good to get away from here for a while, don't you? Give you an opportunity to find yourself. And you could help me, you did fine arts at uni' didn't you? That could be really useful, some of your knowledge could add a whole new perspective on what I'm going up there to look at. What d'you say?"

'Ah.' she thought, looking coldly into the flames rather than up at his blue eyes, 'I was right, he is only inviting me to go with him because it would be beneficial for him. He simply wants me to accompany him, to use my skills to help revive his career.'

"Well?" he prompted.

Julie-Anne shrugged, "Could do I s'pose", she tried to sound nonchalant. "When were you thinking of going?"

Taking this as a 'yes', Russell suddenly looked like an excited child. Pale sunshine streamed through the window behind him, turning his golden curls into a halo as well as outlining the strong masculine lines of his shoulders. Julie-Anne was almost overwhelmed by his Grecian beauty, 'he looks like a statue of a God!' she mused ruefully.

Again she realised he was talking, and pulled back her focus to listen - "It just so happens that there's an old hotel in the castle grounds close to the site I have to visit. It has two rooms vacant - and a couple of the people I want to talk to are available right away. So I thought we'd go up this morning!"

She frowned. "This morning?"

"Yeah. Well, it's two hundred and fifty miles. It'll take at least five hours to drive there. I thought it would be nice to have time to pull off into Harrogate and grab some shopping before doing the last bit of the journey. What d'you say?" His smile was so endearing.

"But I haven't packed! I haven't got anything with me to go away with!" Julie-Anne protested, "even if I rush to it - I don't think I could get home and pack so quickly."

Russell pulled a playful mock pout. "Awgh!" His eyes twinkled merrily, "Here's the thing," he explained whilst taking his attention away from her to start piling the breakfast crockery onto a tray, "come with me now and I'll get you anything you need. I've actually got an unimaginably healthy bank account at my disposal. I mean - " he glanced at her, obviously realising the incredulity of what he was saying, ". . . I mean that my father was a wicked old man who spent his life amassing incredible fortunes. Dad banked wisely and managed to make sure that his fortunes stayed protected whatever the financial climate. In short - I'm a very wealthy man! It has taken a while to get it all sorted out and some of it was quite hard to trace and confirm but, actually, I have, as I said, got access to stupidly large amounts of money . . . and it's all mine!"

Julie-Anne was staring at him, her eyes wide with shock and suspicion. "And all you can think to do is go messing about in Yorkshire, with some archaeological digs?" she queried.

"I told you, I've got some business to take care of in Yorkshire as well." He frowned at her reluctance to catch his mood of reckless excitement. As if to hide his disappointment Russell turned away, stood up and began to walk, with his breakfast tray, towards a door in the far corner of the room. From there he was answering her over his shoulder, "Well, what else should I do? I've got to go. I mean I suppose in the end I'll have a family and get a house for them and everything, so I should continue to make sure that my investments and accounts are safe and still growing. I just didn't want to leave you behind - not now."

He turned to look at her, his face almost imploring, "Julie-Anne let's be a little spontaneous, eh? I wasn't brought up to be a fabulously rich person, but now I can buy stuff whenever I want to, do things when I want to. And what I want to do now is take you away to a nice hotel in Yorkshire and get you all sorts of treats and pamper you a bit . . . is that too much to ask? I'll never have to worry about money - so let's go a little crazy, let's just up and go, eh? It's not as if I'm asking to take you on a 'round the world cruise or anything!"

Julie-Anne didn't know what to think. Russell looked so earnest and it did seem typical of him that he wouldn't let great wealth taint his kind, generous, gentle nature. The phrase 'oh God, I do love you' rose up in her mind and she wanted to run to him, to let herself fall into his arms and feel safe, but now was not the time. 'He'd just think I'm trying to get his money' she thought, coldly. Anyway, none of this altered the fact that she was convinced he was just inviting her along because it was convenient for him, even more so than she'd first thought, she decided. Now she could see that a man in his position shouldn't travel alone; a companion with some useful knowledge and nothing but a bit of emotional baggage to concern her would be an ideal stooge for a chap like him. That would be okay until he met the girl with whom he would choose to have this family and home he was just describing - then it would be 'Thanks and goodbye' for conveniently useful old Julie-Anne. She surfaced from her thoughts, he was talking again.

"I'm sorry Julie-Anne, I've stunned you. I didn't mean to. I just thought that you deserved to get out and about and have some fun. I thought we could do some shopping, get you some new clothes and stuff for the break and, well, just indulge a bit . . . make it up as we go along. No ties, and no holds barred. I thought you could think of it as a sort of vacation-on-me. I can see that everything I've just told you must seem a bit, well, weird?"

Julie-Anne suddenly thought, 'I could reinvent myself a bit. He is right that getting away from this village for a while would give me the chance to get over my losses and re-gather myself'. She looked up at him. "Okay" she answered simply. "I don't even need to tell anybody I'm going, so we can leave as soon as you're ready. Let's close a few doors on the past and escape!"

He beamed. And while she worked hard to maintain a cool exterior, her heart melted.

"I'll just shove this stuff in the dishwasher." he said brightly.

". . . And put a shirt on?" she added.

"And put a sweater on - its sunny but damned cold out there, and going two hundred and fifty miles north means it'll just get colder as we go!"

"And . . . " she called as he disappeared through the door.

His voice was muffled, "Yes?"

She shouted which helped her to deliver a tone of firm resolution "I've got money of my own, my husband wasn't a multi-millionaire but he did all right. So you needn't think I'm going to go away with you and rely entirely on you for everything I need, thank-you!"

The plates and mugs going into the dishwasher clinked and this was the only noise in response to her statement. 'How easily the male ego is punctured!' she mused to herself.

Shortly he came back into the room with two quilted overcoats and several pairs of mittens. "I'll stow these in the car in case it gets really cold", he said brightly. They both glanced up at the clock. It was eight-thirty in the morning. He dumped the clothes on the end of the Chesterfield as Julie-Anne saw a masterful, organised - even controlling - part of his nature. He checked off his mental list of things to do; "I've turned everything off in the kitchen, I'll just douse this fire and put the guard up and we'll be off then; I reckon we can make Harrogate by about two o'clock; the M25 shouldn't be too bad today."

Then, moving quickly and quietly, he poked at the fire and moved the burned logs until there was mostly just ash which fell through the grate leaving cooling embers with the occasional spitting glow. Julie-Anne thought she knew just how those logs must feel - burning brightly by his hand one minute and crumbling to cold dust at his whim the next . . . just as she herself seemed to do. He put the fire guard in front of the hearth to shield the room from any unforeseen life that might burn up in the grate before the fire went thoroughly cold.

When he'd finished Julie-Anne stood up to ready herself. Russell turned to her. "Thank you for agreeing to come with me." He said throatily.

"No sweat." She responded cooly, shrugging, still thinking it measured up to nothing more than convenient for him to have her along as a companion. But while she started to form the shrug he took her shoulders between his strong hands and pulled her to him.

"It means a lot." He uttered, then he lowered his mouth and delivered another of those resolution melting kisses that had her helpless in his arms.

Still, in the depths of her mind, a niggling thought said, 'he said it means a lot to him to have me along . . . not the same as saying that I mean a lot to him.' But she was soon lost to all thoughts as the kiss lingered on and her body began to crave for more.

Not long after pulling away from Joe's old cottage in Russell's Sienna red Lexus LS 600, with its comfortable ivory leather seats and walnut trim, they stopped at a convenient service station to fill up the petrol tank, get some boiled sweets and some carry-out coffee for the journey.

He was right, the M25 was quite clear on a Sunday morning and the rest of their long journey north went smoothly. They listened to the radio as they drove at a reasonable yet, unhurried speed along the A1M.

To keep herself from staring at Russell's arms or thighs while he masterfully controlled the powerful car, Julie-Anne looked out at some quite pleasant scenery of open fields and countryside. It looked quite different to the wood laden little fields around their corner of Surrey. Julie-Anne allowed her mind to wander; she noticed how the golden autumn sunshine stayed at their backs and cast long, slender shadows across the fields and open areas of woodland as they passed by.

Coming out into the open like this gave her a strange perspective on her last few weeks of mourning, and the gloom and self-doubt that had come with the loss of her husband. Suddenly that dull, unadventurous relationship seemed like a dream - a long ago dream that maybe didn't include Julie-Anne at all. She felt as if she'd been watching somebody else's sad, sorry life from the outside, like a ghost. She tried to visualise her husband's face, but found that it was already pretty much erased from her memory. She knew how to describe his features, brown eyes, brown hair and so-on, but she couldn't actually picture him in her mind's eye. She tried to recall their love making - but that was much longer ago than his unfortunate death. When he'd been killed in the accident, she sadly realised, they had not made love together for over six months. There was no need, no desire to lie naked together and share bodily sensations. In fact, even when they were first married they had hardly been the kind of rampant lovers a girl dreams of. There'd never been any unbridled passion, just quiet moments of going through the motions in the dark. And neither ever asked or was interested in knowing whether the other had been truly satisfied or whether they'd just stopped after a few minutes of performing a token act that each felt to be a marital duty.

But she'd kept the house clean, served his meals when it suited him and stood or sat beside him at functions he had to attend. His work took up most of his thoughts; he seemed besotted with the tasks of accounting and banking and number crunching. Profit making for himself and his clients was what truly gave him his kicks. There was no art or beauty in what he did; nothing for Julie-Anne to relate to - although many of his clients and colleagues seemed to enjoy her ability to hold a good discussion about Titian or Raphael, or even some up and coming artistes that they thought they'd just discovered. She was useful at the dinner table in that sense; she was intelligent enough to hold down a decent conversation and keep the other guests and clients happy.

Losing interest in what now seemed a very boring and lacking past, Julie-Anne let her memories melt away, and reverted to staring out of the car window. She found the passage past Nottingham Forest lovely. She loved the density of the forest and the way the light played over the trunks and branches of silver birch and tall, dark pine trees. After that she enjoyed the relative openness of the landscape. Once or twice she glimpsed a big house nestled on the horizon and wondered who lived there; or she saw a glimpse of a stream or a river as they passed by. She wondered what it would be like to go and stand beside those waters instead of settling for just a tantalising glimpse.

"You're quiet!" Russell said gently, but his voice above the babbling speech of the radio made her jump.

She glanced sideways into his vibrant blue eyes and saw a man full of verve as he glanced her way and they both giggled. "I am sorry, I was daydreaming."

"Are you okay?" The concern in his voice was genuine but not over dramatised, it was just a comfortable, thoughtful enquiry.

"Yeah, I'm fine thanks. Maybe laying some old ghosts to rest for a bit - but I'm quite happy." She watched him smile and refocus on the road. Here, she thought is a man who is prepared to go out and do things, examine things, learn about the world around him. She stared at his strong golden tanned hands with their long, strong fingers. She allowed her eye to drift up over his attractive shoulders and study his neck. She really felt like leaning over and kissing his neck, nibbling his ear, running her fingers into that gorgeous mass of golden curls.

Sensing that she was examining him Russell flushed a little pink, "So tell me about your degree?" he asked.

'Oh, here we go!' Julie-Anne thought, 'He wants to know just what education I have that will be of use to him when he gets stuck into talking with people from museums and archaeological sites.' She drew a deep breath and started to tell him about her knowledge of the arts and art history. She explained about how she'd done all the background work for a Masters degree in Art Conservation and Restoration, at the same time as completing the third year of her bachelors' degree. Her interested and talent had enabled her to start the one before truly finishing the other. She chattered about how the university boff's had encouraged her to shine as a gifted student, and what a joyful time she'd had immersed in her studies. She'd enjoyed working with the professors and other students. She stopped talking when Russell pulled in at Blythe services and turned off the engine to sit watching her.

"You're beautiful when you are talking about something you're really interested in you know", he said throatily.

Julie-Anne wanted to say 'I do know! - That's why my husband employed me for all his dinner engagements, to give his clients something to gaze upon and drool over!' In fact she'd never thought of herself as beautiful before and no-one else had ever suggested that she was. She was flattered but determined not to allow herself to imagine that Russell's comment was anything more than a friendly gesture of encouragement.

As she didn't answer him he turned his attention to their surroundings and said "We'll just grab a quick comfort break here. We can get a fresh coffee to carry out if you like, but I really want to just stretch my legs, then keep motoring. I'm keen to get there in time to go around the shops a bit without having to hurry."

*

Eventually they turned off the A1M and made their way into the elegant spa town of Harrogate. By the time they'd parked and found their way out of the car park it was almost two o'clock. They had at least two hours to grab a sandwich and go around the shops buying overnight necessities and maybe some new clothes. 'If nothing else', Julie-Anne thought eagerly, 'it's been far too long since I've indulged in a good shopping spree.' She was glad to be out of the car, in the fresh air and she was suddenly determined that this was going to be the beginning of some sort of new start for her. New clothes and a positive attitude to indulging herself seemed just the right thing.

As they walked away from the car park, into Station Parade, she eyed the semicircular frontage of the Victoria Shopping Centre. Happily she gazed up at the features designed by British architect David Cullearn who had cleverly taken his inspiration from Palladio's famous Basilica at Vincenza. The architraves and statues around the inward curve of the big building made Julie-Anne feel as if she was really going to enjoy this visit. "Goodness, I feel as if I should be wearing eighteenth century gowns, it's like going on the 'grand tour'!" she laughed.

"Later we'll come back and go sight seeing if you like." Russell looked pleased with himself. He reached out and grabbed her slender hand in his, "Time to get some shopping, but not here I think." he told her, his eyes twinkled with merriment. "Come on." And with that he led her down a steep hill, past several rows of fine looking shops until they arrived at Jaeger.

"You can start in here if you want to, but there are some lovely independent shops in this quarter. We're also close to some good tea shops so when you've got what you want we'll have a nice cup of tea. No expense spared!"

Julie-Anne pulled her hand free, "I told you before we left, I am a woman of independent means. Thanks for the offer but I'll buy my own clothes."

Russell shrugged. "Well maybe you'll let me buy you one present somewhere, eh?"

"Maybe." She grinned at him and went into the shop to look at the beautiful suits and casual wear. By the time she left that store she was the proud new owner of a beautiful Pernod Frill cuffed jacket and matching pencil skirt, a wool pinstripe trouser suit and two very smart blouses that tied at the neck with sumptuous bows. She'd also treated herself to a fabulous Rouleau, off the shoulder, sheer silk evening dress with vibrant peacock green patterns over sophisticated charcoal black. She knew that her dark hair and slender, delicate features would really compliment the colours and cut of the dress and she hoped she'd get the chance to wear it soon.

She was thrilled to find a Russell & Bromley store and some other good shoe shops nearby. She was equally thrilled to visit some fine independent ladies-wear stores where she picked up sweaters, blouses, casual trousers and a few accessories. Finally exhausted with shopping Julie-Anne had one more hurdle to overcome. She was going to need to pick up some underwear. But Russell was so attentive, joining in and commenting nicely about her choices that she was at a loss. Surely she couldn't buy such intimate items with him watching and commenting.

She was tiring and her feet were beginning to hurt, so she decided there was nothing for it but to be blunt. "Tell me where we are going for tea will you," she questioned, looking determinedly into his handsome, tanned face, "I need to grab some more personal items and I'd rather have a short while on my own and meet you somewhere."

He grinned knowingly at her, the skin around his blue eyes crinkling delightfully. "If you must I suppose. But don't be gone for too long or I'll start to get paranoid and worry about you. I had thought we might go to Betty's for tea, but frankly I think there are less crowded places close by." He pointed out the place he'd chosen and Julie-Anne took a good look around to get the land marks so that she could find her way back. She noted Hoopers on James Street. It was a lovely old fashioned department store with a run of gorgeous art nouveau red and yellow stained glass all around tops of the front windows. In the darkening late autumn afternoon, the warmth and colours of the stained glass - combined with the Christmas decorations in the store - looked so inviting that she decided she could probably get all the lingerie she needed right there. She pointed to let Russell know that's where she planned to go and left him to his own devices for half an hour.

Within seconds of walking away from Russell Julie-Anne felt as if there was an eerie coldness around the hand he'd just let go, and down the side of her that he'd seemed to shelter as they'd walked along. She felt as if she'd actually peeled off a layer of herself and left it behind. 'This is silly!' she admonished herself, 'You can't start thinking of him in these terms, he's not going to be a permanent fixture and you know it. He's not in love with you and you have to stop falling in love with him.'

As she stepped inside the brightly lit store she turned and glanced back towards where she'd left him. She was suppressing a child-like urge to run back to him and cling on to his strong arms. She expected him to have gone out of her sight and she was feeling slightly panicky - instead she saw that he'd moved along behind her and was standing a little way off, on the corner, watching her. 'Hmph!' she thought, 'he doesn't even trust me!'

Indignant now, she strutted into the store and tried to put him out of her thoughts. She hadn't missed noticing that he'd blown her a kiss when he saw she was looking at him. 'Fool!', she smiled playfully, even though he could never possibly hear her.

In the lingerie and nightwear departments Julie-Anne stopped herself from buying a plain brushed cotton nightie and plain white cotton undies. Instead she picked out a short, deep red Chaslyn chemise, styled in soft silk with a blossom print. She stuck to her old habit with the dressing gown though, choosing a long, thick, fluffy robe that would be so warm and comforting when she got out of the bath; or early in the morning when it was cold. The robe was also seductive red and did compliment the chemise in a rather nice way.

Realising that she was taking rather a long time she moved on to select a few opulently sexy briefs with matching bras in colours ranging from black with purple trim to soft peach. She happily grabbed a pair of cream, kitten heeled mules with a delicate feather trim over the toes. These would go with anything she had bought to wear in the privacy of her room and they would impart that lovely sense of girlie indulgence when she chose to put them on. Finally she made her way to the pay point. At the last minute she grabbed some hold-up stockings and, for the devilment of it, a pair of thick, fluffy bedroom socks. She was determined that if Russell intended to seduce her she would enjoy the experience as much as possible, but also that he would have to take her as he found her. If she felt like being wrapped up in something warm and snugly - that would be a test of his real feelings towards her, she decided.

When Julie-Anne entered the sweet little tea room to join Russell it was as much as she could do to contain herself from rushing to embrace him. He looked cool and matter of fact about her arrival, not enquiring about her shopping but ordering her to drink up her tea and eat her soft, sweet scone very quickly so that they could get on with finishing their journey. The child-like glee she had felt about her new acquisitions soon cooled like the tea in her cup. She swallowed down both her tea and the flirtatious feelings she'd been developing toward her handsome companion. Within only a few minutes of her arrival they went back out into the chill of the autumnal dusk.

The elegant town was already in full preparation for Christmas. The festive season was rapidly bearing down on retailers and shoppers alike. Autumn was turning to winter. Julie-Anne would have loved to have stopped and gazed at the pretty coloured lighting that sparkled in the trees around green park areas of town. She caught tantalising glimpses of sparkling decorations in shop windows and over the archways of mediaeval streets. But Russell had got it into his head that he needed to hurry. She was left with no option but to hurry along behind him, hoping that she would get another chance to come into town in the late afternoon to really appreciate the magical glitter that the townsfolk had tastefully sprinkled all around.

Chapter five

When they arrived at the little village just north of Harrogate, Russell parked the Lexus outside a charming, red-brick hotel. The place had a mediaeval feel, with small, gothic styled windows and and intriguing air of history about it. The pavement was cobbled with uncomfortably small cobble-stones so that Julie-Anne had to be careful not to twist her ankles as she dutifully followed Russell. He seemed fully in control as she stepped up behind him into the carpeted reception area. Whilst the smiling receptionist took Russell's details Julie-Anne looked around at some family portraits from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, at the same time she noted that typical kitcheny smell that ancient English hotels always seem to have.

"Here's your key!" Russell broke into her thoughts. He'd been carrying her shopping bags for her, now he handed them to her along with her room key, saying "I have a couple of phone calls to make. You go bathe and change and we'll meet down here for dinner at seven thirty."

She stared at him, he'd changed from being the happy go-lucky blue eyed boy that she was just getting used to, and had become distant, serious and somewhat dominating. This made her more aware than she'd been before of how tall he was and how overtly masculine his trim body seemed to be when he stood so close. She glanced at her watch, it was six o'clock. "Okay." she mumbled, taking the bags from his outstretched hand and checking the room number on her key. "I'll see you later then."

*

Her bedroom was fresh and clean. It was tastefully decorated. The furniture was crisp white against buttermilk walls and woodwork. The atmosphere of the comfortable room was warmed by heavy red and gold raw-silk curtains that hung sumptuously over the deep box mantle of the stylised gothic-arched window. The invitingly soft bed was dressed in a matching red and gold counterpane. The carpet was plush and modern but Julie-Anne was equally comforted by her certain knowledge that beneath that soft carpet lay an ancient oak floor, probably worn smooth by the feet of many happy visitors and almost certainly glossy and dark - she felt that the invisible history of this room added to it's character as much as the lovely dressings on display.

Although the room was cosy, outside it was dark now and very cold. Julie-Anne could not see the world outside and was pleased to think that there was a lot of exploring to look forward to in the morning. She flung her shopping on the bed and set about running a hot bath to ease her aching back and feet. But as she relaxed into a perfumed bubble bath, she started once again to feel isolated and emotionally neglected. She could not allow Russell Bryson-Steinar to become her undoing, she decided. So long as she didn't get carried away with her growing feelings for him she would be all right. After all, this break could be such an adventure and it really was an opportunity for her to re-define herself and gather some inner strength to get her through her life to come. But that was going to be a life alone by the looks of it. Who would ever fall in love with such a dull, miserable widow? Even when she'd got married, it seemed, her husband had no real love or passion for her and she, as she now believed, was a passionless woman with nothing to offer. She would have to settle for attempting to find some interesting friends - or at least seeking out a few people like Russell who could give her an environment for conversation and a few shared interests form time to time.

Julie-Anne was beginning to get quite miserable, she'd just climbed out of the bath and had wrapped her hair and body in the hotel's large white towels when there was a knock on the door. Cautiously she cracked the door open and saw a smartly dressed member of staff holding a huge bouquet of red and gold flowers.

"Oh!" Julie-Anne gasped, throwing open the door to receive the flowers. The boy holding them grinned cheekily at her, "Your, er, gentleman friend sent these up!" he explained, "There's a card." The smug expression on the boy's face suggested that he might have had a sneaky look at the card but Julie-Anne didn't care. She took the flowers and thanked him, retreating quickly back into her room to investigate them.

The card simply said "Beautiful flowers for a special companion." That's a pretty little non-committal phrase, Julie-Anne thought. It reads like something they put as standard in the florist's shop - not exactly a personalised declaration of new found love! Still, what did she expect? She was just here to provide company and convenient conversation as usual, and they were quite lovely flowers. They were arranged in a special cellophane wrap that had water in it so that she could stand them by the bedside as they were. She couldn't help but smile as she noticed that the floral arrangement went perfectly with the decor of the bed room and the decadent colours cheered her up immensely.

Determined not to carry on wallowing in her loneliness, and with a lightness in her step brought n by the prettiness of the flowers now perfuming her room, Julie-Anne got on with organising her new clothes in the wardrobe. While she moved around the room she'd wrapped herself in her new cuddly robe and thick bed sox. While she dried and brushed her hair to a lustrous shine she confined her thoughts to wondering what supper would be on offer downstairs. She dare not allow her mind to wander to Russell and that delicious kiss he'd used to entice her to come here with him. What a pity that brief moment of seduction had been nothing more than a type of bribery. Russell had certainly known how to bait the hook to catch this silly little fish hadn't he? Every now and then she smiled at the flowers on her night stand. Somehow they seemed to represent hope, hope for better things to come in her life. Russell might only be stringing her along, but if she could cool her feelings for him then maybe there was hope that she could use this experience to find a man who could find something within her to love.

At seven fifteen she finally dressed herself in a pair of cream, lightweight wool, trousers that fitted her slim hips perfectly. She smoothed the tailored seems where the trousers fitted over her shapely thighs, admiring the cut and the stylish way the garment flared out to a wide cuff at the hem. She slipped on a new pair of high heeled shoes that made her stand with a graceful arch to her lean back and topped the outfit with a creamy coffee coloured cashmere sweater. she scrutinised her own slender, petite figure in the mirror and, smoothing her lovely dark hair back from her pretty face, she sighed, 'Ah well! Here I go . . . venturing into the unknown, I guess.'

Julie-Anne had no idea how beautiful she looked nor how well the new clothes and make-up had served to revive her natural loveliness.

At the bottom of the little hotel's creaky staircase, Julie-Anne was delighted to see Russell dressed in some of the new clothes he'd picked up while they were out shopping. He looked gorgeous in a well fitting pair of navy chinos that showed-off his masculine thighs, soft sued moccasins, and a white sweater that lay smoothly over his manly chest and that highlighted his golden skin under the gentle hotel lighting. She extended a warm smile to him and greeted him with a heartfelt "Thank you!" for the lovely flowers. As she came down the last few steps he held out his hand to her, she wondered if he was going to kiss her again and her stomach flipped nearly causing her to miss the last step. Instead, however, he took her hand and squeezed it lightly, pulling her toward the dining room. "For the flowers? Oh, you're welcome, I'm glad you liked them." he said smoothly, with little emotion. Then with much more feeling he added, "Come on, let's go eat, I'm starving!"

Suppressing the desire to pull him back and press herself into his arms, Julie-Anne meekly followed Russell into the cosy dining room. The room had a country-house feel to it, it smelled of centuries of cooking, more especially it smelled of freshly cooked home-style meals. And, neither high class nor chic in it's decor, it had a lovely warm ambience which made it very easy for Julie-Anne to relax as the waiter settled them at their table-for-two in a secluded spot.

"So what, exactly, are your plans now that we're here?" Having ordered herself a pheasant dish, Julie-Anne gazed across the candle lit table into Russell's blue eyes. She was enchanted to see how he came to life, grew masterful and knowledgeable while he talked about archaeology and organisations and people that were evidently movers and shakers within his field of knowledge. She was vaguely aware that he'd kept his conversation to his historical interests and did not mention the other 'business' he had come to see to - whatever that might be.

"There was a hugely important hoard of buried Viking treasure found near here." Russell was explaining, his eyes lighting up as he imagined the artefacts, "There were over 617 silver coins and 65 other items. They found ornaments, and all sorts of metals hidden in a gilt silver vessel lined with gold. It shows good trade and travel evidence too 'cos many of the items, cups, bowls and stuff, were made in France or Germany around the year 900 and other bits came from even further afield." She felt drawn to the glow in his eyes where candle light reflected his burning intellectual interest in his topic. Seemingly unaware of her, he carried on chattering, "Some of the finds were exquisitely made, they were highly decorated with vines, leaves and, can you imagine, there were six representations of hunting scenes which actually showed lions as well as stags, and a horse. The container they were protected in is probably from a rich monastery in northern France. That means it must have been acquired either in a Viking raid or as a kind of Viking trade-off or tribute."

"So, some important people must be here to look at all this?" She questioned, delicately popping a dainty mouth-full of the rich, saucy pheasant into her mouth without taking her eyes from Russell's candle lit, radiant face.

"Not really, all the expertise is in the British and other museums where the stuff is housed and studied." he shrugged.

She frowned, "I thought you'd come here to meet with people?"

"Well there's always a few interesting people hanging around an area like this - so I'll see who I can find round-and-about whilst we're here." He had developed an expression of enticing secrecy on his face. Julie-Anne noted a dark frown that was misting his crystal blue eyes like a storm shadow passing through a prefect summer sky.

"Oh?" she prompted. Suddenly wondering what his true reason for coming here might be, "Why have you come here Russell, really?"

"Hmmn . . . ," Russell took a mouthful of his food, seemingly without tasting it as he carried on talking into middle distance; "You see'" he mumbled, "If i could just set the back ground for my reasoning . . . the coins found here undoubtedly belonged to a Viking king, a rich one. The early theory as to the owner of this hoard is that it is associated with a tenth-century occasion when there was a lot of unrest following the 927 Anglo-Saxon conquest of the Viking kingdom of Northumbria by king Athelstan. But there was another brief period of Viking rule in Northumbria after Athelstan’s death in 939; it lasted until the year 954 and the expulsion and murder of Eric Blood-axe, the Viking king of Jorvik, er - that's modern day York. What I'm getting around to saying is . . . " Russell paused to refocus his stare and seemed finally to notice that Julie-Anne was not hanging on his every word but was, herself, frowning off into the middle distance. Realising that he had stopped talking she ceased contemplating his real reason for bringing her here and snapped her gaze forward to challenge his. Russell's crystal blue eyes locked into Julie-Anne's soft dark ones and held her transfixed. "What I want to say is," He said quietly "I was going to keep this quiet until after I'd met with solicitors tomorrow, but my plan is that because my own history is rooted in Viking from 'round here, because I've managed to trace my bloodline back to the time of Eric Blood-axe, I suddenly felt that the right thing to do would be to come here and get hold of a decent bit of property. I mean to set up a Bryson-Steinar family seat!"

"Sorry?" Julie-Anne was nonplussed, she hadn't foreseen anything of this nature in his plan and she wasn't quite sure that she knew what he meant. "What do you mean?"

"I mean my ancestors had quite some status and position around here centuries ago, that's where my Nordic surname comes from. Of course that kind of family seat's been lost in the annuls of time, but my father was a man of great means who - weirdly - chose to ignore his wealth and potential. My father suppressed his fortunes and status - I don't intend to do the same. Julie-Anne I'd never dreamed just how much money my father left me. If I don't make something of it then I reckon it's all just going to waste. So, anyway, I found this fifteen thousand acre estate with a well established manorial hall here, in the seat of my ancestry so-to-speak, and I plan to make something of myself here. There - now you know!" He searched her face for her reaction.

Julie-Anne gasped. 'Wow, a fifteen-thousand acre estate? His dad really did leave him a lot of money - that's going to cost several millions!' She thought, and chased the thought quickly through her mind, not wanting to dwell on just how rich this man was suddenly turning out to be.

Her mind was in a whirl. She had always felt herself to be pretty privileged, what with her parents lovely home in Surrey and her own good education and trained appreciation of the fine arts. But, she had never in her life dreamed about the kind of fabulous wealth that Russell was now implying. He'd said he'd inherited - but why hadn't he hinted at the magnitude of his inheritance before? Why had he kept her in the dark over the real reason for his trip? As her thoughts cleared it dawned on Julie-Anne that Russell didn't just want her around to amuse a few of his old historian friends with idle chit-chat at the dinner table, he must be hoping that she would give him professional information about some real fine arts? Maybe he was expecting her to advise him on art-works for his new property? He might even expect her to appraise items that were already fixtures of his new place? What a nerve!

Indignance rose up to close Julie-Anne's throat, making it hard for her to breath. Her hand flew up to clasp over her mouth as she stared wildly at Russell. 'What a damned cheek!', she thought, expecting me to be lulled into giving him a free advisory service in exchange for nothing more than a kiss and a bit of emotional teasing.

She wanted to jump up and run away from this emotional blackmailer, but a sensible upbringing forced Julie-Anne to avoid making a scene in the public restaurant so she just sat there, shaking, staring at Russell, waiting to see what he would say next.

"I can see I've shocked you Julie-Anne." His voice was deep and quiet, resonating from the depths of his muscular chest. He leaned forward toward her. "I wanted to get a few more of the legalities of the purchase settled and then introduce you to the place. Y'know? I wanted to take you around the place as soon as I know for certain that the deal is sealed. That's why I didn't mention it before, silly I guess." He looked humble and sheepish.

Julie-Anne swallowed hard, "So tell me - why do you want to introduce me to the place at all?" She challenged harshly.

Confusion washed over Russell's expression, "I'm sorry, I'm not sure why you seem so angry? Julie-Anne I just wanted to share this with you, I thought it would . . . well, would cheer you up. I also thought . . . " his voice trailed off, he looked down solemnly at his plate of congealing food, avoiding her eyes.

This time Julie-Anne leaned forward to make sure she held his attention as she hissed across the table. "If you think you can take advantage of me to get a free appraisal service on fine arts and good taste while you splash you new millions around you've got another think coming!" Her voice was rasping and harsh. She continued to express her thoughts through clenched teeth, "I don't know what your mean little game is mister, but I simply cannot allow you to use me in this way. If you want some expert to come and add to the fabulous value of your new acquisitions then I'm afraid you'll just have hire one." Slowly she had stood up and was leaning over him with her hands on the table to steady herself. "My fee", she snarled, "is much more than a kiss and a bunch of flowers. I've just lost my husband - all right! I confessed to you that he and I weren't really in love - but my vulnerable state is no excuse for a user like you to come and prey on me in this fashion. I won't be hanging around to be dumped like an unwanted pet at Christmas after you've just used me for your personal gain at your convenience."

Shaking, she dropped her serviette on the table beside her plate of half eaten food and back away. "I'll be calling a taxi and catching the train home in the morning." For a moment she could not help but see the pleading expression in Russell's startled face, but she was determined to get away before he did or said anything that would prey on her to resign herself to just satisfying his whims and wishes as she had always done for other people in the past.

Julie-Anne crept up the stairs to her little bedroom. Here, a few hours before she had dared to hope for a happier and more fulfilling future. Now she felt betrayed, lied to, tricked and desperately, desperately lonely. She pulled off her clothes leaving them on the floor where they fell. She wrapped herself in the softness of her fleecy dressing gown and curled up under the covers of the hotel bed. She could not cry, she'd cried too much in the recent past now there were no tears left. She lay huddled in darkness, aching all over and devoid of any emotion, just waiting for daylight and the chance to drag herself home.

*

It seemed almost a miracle that Julie-Anne's mobile phone, lying forgotten in the depths of her handbag, rang at midnight. She crawled out of bed and fumbled in the darkness to find it. There it was, flashing it's solemn blue light in the gloom. She picked it up and looked at it. "Mum!" She breathed, "Oh, Mum!" She pressed the buttons to return her mother's call. Auckland, New Zealand was thirteen hours ahead of British time so it must be about one in the afternoon there, Julie-Anne imagined the lovely sunshine and scenery of the New Zealand home of her aunt and parents.

The call only rang twice before her mother answered "Hello darling, thanks for calling me back. I just wanted to know how you are doing?" Her mother sounded concerned, "We haven't heard from you for ages - we were beginning to worry!"

Croaky from exhaustion, Julie-Anne related all of the events as she saw them since the day Russell had turned up at her house. Her mother made sympathetic noises while she was speaking. "Poor darling", she said, "but are you sure you're right about him Julie-Anne? Is he really such a blaggard or are you just being over cautious because of your past relationship?" This, of course, was Julie-Anne's real dilemma. She didn't know whether she should have trusted Russell, taken him at face value, continued making friends with him in good faith . . . or not? She didn't answer her mother's question so her mother spoke again, "Do you think you should at least have breakfast with the poor chap? Apologise for the misunderstanding and then go home feeling a bit less battered, eh?" the woman suggested.

"Oh, mum! How could I have breakfast with him?" Julie-Anne implored as if she'd just been given an order. "I don't know how to trust him. Maybe that's it, the problem is that I just can't trust anybody. My emotions feel so raw and vulnerable, I don't want to get into a situation where I finally fall properly in love - only to be pushed aside and hurt. I got too used to just rubbing along, not having to bother with emotional entanglement. Now - well now I don't think I have the strength to manage a proper relationship and I certainly don't want to set myself up as some-one's stooge ever again. No mum, I think things would be best left as they are now. I'm just going to go home. Can I call you again when I get there?" Her parents were in the habit of going off on long adventure treks up into the mountains and all over the place - it was their retirement hobby and they loved being out in the wilds together, but that did make it very hard for Julie-Anne to catch them on the phone sometimes, when she wanted to. She heard her mother sigh.

"Yes darling. Your father's twisted his ankle so we've promised to stay at home for Christmas and let him rest up a bit."

"Oh Mum!" Julie-Anne declared, feeling guilty, "I didn't even think to ask how you two were, I was so wrapped up in my own problems. Is Dad okay?"

"Yes my love. He's just in need of a bit of rest before we take our next trip that's all - we're fine I promise. In fact he's right here listening on the other hand-set. Why don't you two say hello while I go and pour us a cool drink?"

In the darkness Julie-Anne became aware of the little background noises that had betrayed her father's presence on the telephone line. She smiled to think of him. He was a big man with a generous smile and a kind heart. "Hi hunny!" His deep voice was clear as if he were in the room with her and she wished that he was.

"Hello Dad - so you heard all about my girlie sorrows then?"

"I did." he confirmed. "Do you want my opinion Julie-Anne?"

"Go on then Dad?" her smile broadened while she wondered what he was going to say.

"Take a chance girl!" He declared jovially. "You're just jumping to conclusions. Now that you've had all of these thoughts you can at least be on your guard. But, Jools . . . "

She gasped at the sound of her dear father's pet name for her. Julie-Anne wished she was a little girl in his care again. "What Pa?"

"Jools, open yourself up to the adventure! Get a bit of passion in your life before it's all too late. Don't let my shining little girl become a drab old spinster eh?"

Silently she listened to how the New Zealand drawl affected her father's speech, it sounded nice and comforting, enhancing the timbres of his natural voice. "I don't want to be an old spinster Dad!" She agreed, "But I don't want to set myself up to get hurt either. My life has always been so safe - I don't know how to live on the edge like you do."

"Listen girl," he answered in a conspiratorial tone, "I didn't say anything when you plunged into marriage with the first so-safe-as-to-be-boring bloke that came your way. I didn't tell you then that I thought you ought to go out and have some proper adventures. But don't you know that that's the reason I suddenly agreed to come out here with your mother? I suddenly realised when I saw your blossoming life ebb away to that lifeless experience you had married into, I was guilty of doing the same to your Ma. She was such a vibrant, exciting girl when I married her and I just squashed the life right out of her with my determination to be steady and safe - dull! I saw her in you and I saw it all draining away and I suddenly realised that I owed it to her to come here and start again. Now you don't get that chance, but look how it's revived us and given us back our love, our relationship and our reason to cherish every single day of our life together."

Julie-Anne had never realised any of this. She imagined the knowing smile on her mother's face in the background. She noticed the fresh vibrancy in her father's voice and knew the truth of what he was telling her. "But Dad, does that really mean that I should trust myself to Russell?"

"Why not? Let yourself go girl! You've got the place in Surrey. If this bloke tosses you aside like you suspect then go home, tidy up, and come out and try again. Now, your mother's back with some iced drink and a wicked grin on her face so I'm off - but keep in touch eh!" He hung up, Julie-Anne heard him flirting with her mother even as he moved the telephone receiver back to its resting place. She bit her lip and went thoughtfully back to bed. Maybe in the morning she would have breakfast with Russell, apologise to him and take it from there. Feeling settled, she closed her eyes and let herself drift off to sleep.

Chapter six

'Oh, my goodness!' Julie-Anne had awoken with a start, it had taken her so long to get to sleep the night before that she had now overslept and when she opened her eyes and saw true daylight through the gothic-arched window of her room she realised it was much later than she'd intended.

In fact it was just after nine o'clock. Hurriedly she rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. Cleaning her teeth and brush her hair almost simultaneously she decided she'd have to forego any make-up until later. She pulled on a soft peach coloured silk teddy and over it she slipped a new pair of bronze coloured, tight fitting, pedal pushers and a roll necked, caramel, lambs wool sweater. With a final glance in the dressing-table mirror she grabbed her room key and rushed down stairs to try to find Russell.

She knew from the expression on the face of the receptionist when she approached to ask where Russell might be, that her worst fears were about to be realised. "I'm afraid he checked out at seven this morning." the girl said disinterestedly.

"Did he say where he was going or leave me any message?" Julie-Anne asked with a tone of desperation.

"No - sorry."

Standing there, feeling more alone and foolish that she ever had before in her life, Julie-Anne became utterly deflated. She dragged herself back up the stairs and numbly began to pack her clothes back into their carrier bags. It was as if all hope had been knocked from her. She found it hard to breath and even harder to string together coherent thoughts. She managed to call a cab and find out the times of trains to carry her home to Surrey.

The journey was a blur.

It was nearing Christmas and the trains were full of children, teenagers and families going about the business of Christmas shopping, or visiting their nearest and dearest. Julie-Anne could not focus on them, she couldn't bear the noises and happy air of excitement that seemed to envelop all the other passengers. She felt as if she were in a bubble, alone and without purpose.

By the time she got to the final taxi ride back to her home the evening had become as dark, wet and gloomy as Julie-Anne's mood. Fumbling in her purse to pay the taxi driver, she dropped one of her paper carrier bags into a puddle. While the cab drove away she crumpled to the wet ground in tears, siting there clutching the sodden bag while hopeless gasps and sobs wracked from her belly and escaped, unheard, into the thick blanket of black winter mizzle.

"Julie-Anne?"

The voice that softly spoke her name must have been a dream, she thought. But it came again. "Julie-Anne? Is that you?"

Miserably she wailed "Of course its me! What are you doing here?"

Russell stepped out from the shadows near her old oak tree at the bottom of the path. She heard his bike slip and fall to the ground as he stepped away from it. She looked up incredulous while he strode to her side and squatted down beside her. She was too stunned to even carry on crying. "What are you doing here?" she asked again.

"Um, well the first thing I'm doing here is getting you inside before you catch pneumonia!" he announced standing up and pulling her up with him. He had wrapped his strong arms around her chest, under her armpits and was lifting her towards the front door of her cottage.

"Where's the key?" Russell demanded gruffly.

Julie-Anne struggled to pull her door key from the depths of her hand bag. Already she could feel how cold and wet her legs and feet had become from sitting on the ground. "My shopping!" She moaned hopelessly.

"I'll get that in a minute . . . come on, get the door open and get inside quickly." he ordered.

Blindly she obeyed his instruction and pushed into the cottage kitchen. Russell pushed past her and ran upstairs to return in a few moments with the thick blanket from the spare bed. He threw this at her and said "Get undressed, wrap this around you while I figure out the hot water and get the kettle on."

Now shivering horribly, Julie-Anne obediently pulled her wet clothes off, down to the pretty peach teddy, and wrapped herself in the blanket before sitting down in the kitchen rocking chair beside the cold range.

Meanwhile Russell stepped outside to pick up the wetted bag of clothes and as soon as he'd come back in he dumped it unceremoniously on the floor while he filled the kettle and prepared two cups with coffee.

Time stood still for Julie-Anne until eventually, with the gas central heating burbling hot water through radiators, and her near naked body huddled inside the blanket, she extended her bare arms to take a hot drink from Russell's strong hand.

He knelt before her and looked into her face. Her swollen, bloodshot eyes connected with his concerned crystal blue ones and they sat for a moment locked in each other's gaze. "Why are you here?" she enquired again, this time her voice was so soft and timid that it was hardly audible.

"Oh Julie-Anne!" he spoke her name on a sigh of relief. "You said you were going to come straight home so I got up early, went to see the solicitors as soon as their office opened and then drove back to here, to meet you when you got home. I - I wanted to ask you to think again. I wanted to find out just what all that silly nonsense was about last night in the restaurant?" He reached out his fingers and gently brushed the side of her cheek. "I don't know what you've been thinking Julie-Anne but don't you know I truly love you? Don't you realise that my plan counted you in, right at the very heart of things? From the moment I first saw you I . . . " his voice trailed off as his searching gaze swept down over her face and the naked shoulder where her blanket had begun to slip away. "What's happened Julie-Anne? Why are you in this state?" His gently stroking fingers moved more solidly around to the back of her head and he held her face toward his, his finger tips softly soothing the throbbing ache that was beginning to gather at the base of her skull.

"I thought you were just stringing me along." she spluttered, "I thought this was just going to be another of those relationships where I was tagging along in case I could be useful, there for your convenience." A big warm tear escaped from her eyes and trickled down her cheek. "I think I've been a fool Russell! I just - I just don't know how to recognise true affection. I think I've been so fooled before that I, well I guess I just didn't trust you."

"Oh you little goose!" a smile twisted the corner of Russell's handsome mouth and Julie-Anne became aware of how close his lips were. His warm, masculine fingers still held her head close to his as he breathed "I just love you, truly. I have loved you from day-one. There are no tricks, no traps and no great expectations here Julie-Anne. Let's make a go of it eh? Let's accept that we're starting with genuine friendship and unconditional affection and build from there?"

His eyes hooded and closed as he pulled her into him and drew their lips together. This kiss was not like either of the passionate kisses they had shared before. This time his lips were light and tingling against hers. It was as if he was holding back any pressure of firm contact for fear of breaking her - like he was kissing something as fragile as a bubble.

For a melting eternity they stayed together, she wrapped in the rocking chair and he kneeling before her, their faces and hearts melded into one by the lightest of touches, their breath mingling as they calmed and sighed and warmed to one another. All the world slipped away from Julie-Anne's memory as her blood began to heat and the secret places deep in the very core of her being began to come to life with soft, sensuous demands.

Still Russell held his position, commanding but not demanding; close but not pressurising. Flooded with the mixture of a true love that was opening up in her like a summer rose and the passionate bodily desire that was coursing through her veins, Julie-Anne broke the spell with a helpless whimper.

Smiling, Russell pulled his hand back from her neck so that his fingers combed through her hair. "Hey, your hair is damp too. You really should get into a hot bath or shower. We don't want you getting ill now do we?"

Julie-Anne did not want to be released from the enchantment that encompassed her as she sat there holding his attention.

"Don't let go!" she urged breathily, "come with me - stay with me."

Their fingertips remained lightly in contact as Russell used his strong thigh muscles to push him up in one smooth move. Julie-Anne rose from the chair dropping her blanket behind her so that she stood there in just the peach, silk teddy. Russell's eyebrows raised in appreciation of the sight of her petite, vulnerable form. Without any words he walked backward, leading her up the stairs to her bathroom - all the time keeping eye contact, keeping her locked to him through is crystal blue eyes and tender smile. She followed him as if in a dream.

Still maintaining fingertip contact he reached around to turn on the shower. Then he turned back to Julie-Anne and, with feather light touches, he peeled the teddy down over her body until he was kneeling at her feet.

The silk garment lay discarded on the bathroom floor while Russell commenced to kiss first her toes, then her ankles; tantalising the backs of her trembling knees with carefully, expertly placed pressure before moving on to run his tongue over her thighs so lightly that she could barely tell whether she could really feel him or whether it was the anticipation of it all that was surging up through her belly and spine.

As he kneeled up to place kiss after loving kiss all over the firm flat muscles that formed the curves of her womanly belly she could hardly bear it.

Then, somehow, Russell was on his feet. His own clothes had peeled away to join hers on the bathroom floor. His busy mouth was urgently arousing first one of her eager breasts, then the other.

When they climbed under the shower Russell somehow managed to co-ordinate his hands to lather her back whilst still placing kisses up and down her sensitive neck. Then he placed his strong hands on her rounded hips and manfully turned her back to him so that he could caress her hair with shampoo whilst peppering her shoulders and the curve of the back of her neck with more and more urgent presses of his lips.

She could feel his firm body at her back sending far more heat up her spine than the hot water of the shower. She could feel his masculine arousal against the clenched muscles of her buttocks. Pressing her hands to the shining tiles of the wall she arched her back in surrender and groaned while he rinsed her hair with clear, sparkling, hot water.

Suddenly, in a masterful manoeuvre he slid his strong arms down her body and swept her off her feet to carry her out of the shower. Grabbing a big towel as he went he carried her to her bed and somehow wrapped her in the thick cotton towelling before placing her delicately on top of her duvet.

She could hold back her passion no longer. She stretched out of the clutches of the towel and reached out with slender arms and legs to wrap herself around him and pull his body down into hers.

The light from the hallway cast golden highlights in Russell's hair as they lay locked together in the safety and warmth of her unlighted bedroom.

She marvelled at his knowledge of just where to touch, where to kiss and how to tantalise her body until she burned for satisfaction. Time had no meaning as he uttered over and over again that he truly loved her, whilst at the same time he brought their bodies to an ecstatic, bone melting climax.

Julie-Anne had never known that love could be like this.

She had never before been so aroused or so engulfed by these physical feelings that seemed to shout and echo, with every urgent groan or playful moan, the very depths of the love that now wrapped her heart and soul and bound her to him.

Lying in the semidarkness, sated and snuggled comfortably against the fine masculine hairs on Russell's chest, she sought his lips with her finger tips. "I love you so much," she whispered, "and I do believe you, you do truly love me too don't you?"

He twisted his head to look down at her. Smiling he whispered back throatily "Oh yes Julie-Anne. I love you truly!" He moved to lean over her, propped on one elbow with one strong, muscular thigh resting over her. He teased the base of her throat with kisses whilst repeating "I do love you truly - truly I do."

*

They must have fallen asleep in each other's arms. When the phone began to ring Julie-Anne jumped. She opened her eyes and spent a few moments luxuriating in the feel of Russell stirring so close to her. He groaned and shifted while she stretched over him to pick up the receiver from the cabinet on his side of the bed.

"Hello darling - I hope it's not too late to call you - what time is it there?" Her mother's cheerful voice filled her ear.

"Oh, high Mum." She half whispered, suppressing a giggle of delight. "Are you okay? Is Dad Okay?"

"Of course sweetie. I just rang to see how you are after our talk last night?"

There was a pause while Julie-Anne thought about what to say. She didn't quite want to explain to her mother in detail about the man she had so badly misjudged and berated to her parents just the night before. she was a little shy of telling her own parents that, in fact, it turned out not only that Russell truly loved her but also that he was the most exquisite physical lover she could ever imagine . . . especially not with him lying there beneath her, groggily smiling up at her like a cat that had just won the cream. So she said "Oh, thanks Mum. Er, we've started to work things out. I think every thing's going to be okay!"

She suppressed a squeal as Russell playfully tickled her inner thigh, forcing her to shift in such a way that he could start flirting with his tongue while she was helplessly clutching the phone.

"Well we phoned the hotel and they weren't sure but they thought you'd both gone home, separately as it were. We were a bit worried but - what's that noise you're making Julie-Anne? Is he there with you?" For her last question Julie-Anne's mother had a syrupy tone to her voice - she'd guessed!

Julie-Anne released a girlish giggle. "Yeah, he's right here Mum. Sorry!"

"Why say sorry? I hope you're doing all the thing's we talked about last night my girl!" her father's voice cut in, "I hope you're taking a few chances and letting yourself go to a bit of self indulgence and adventure, eh?"

Shocked at her own father's tone and suggestive hint Julie-Anne gasped. "Dad!" she chided.

"What?" her father tried to sound nonplussed.

"Well - you're my Dad!" she mumbled, brushing Russell's adventuring fingers back to a less furtive area of her body.

"Ha!" Her father barked his wicked laugh. "Julie-Anne you're a grown up now. I'll always give you the best advice I can, but I'm not going to pretend that you're a twelve year old for ever - you are a young woman and you deserve all the pleasures and joys that a young woman can have. God knows I robbed your mother of too much when she was your age!"

"I think", Julie-Anne managed to gasp out while Russell pulled her free hand down over the firmness of his chest, chasing the soft curls of his masculine hair down to the point between his hips where hard muscles rippled under smooth skin, "I think I know what you mean." she half squeaked "I seem to be getting myself into just those very pleasure and joys, Dad!"

Her father chortled down the line. "Sounds like it's time to wish you - both of you - a good night then!" he declared loudly in a bluff, happy voice.

"Dad?" Julie-Anne sobered for a moment, imagining the face of her beloved father so many thousands of miles away across the world. "Thanks for the support. It means a lot. You've been such a great help."

"Good!" The man answered. "Now, try not to get into trouble for a few weeks will you. We've, erm, we've decided my ankle's better enough - so we're leaving your aunt's place tomorrow for a few weeks away from here - we're going to an area we've never been before so it promises to be an adventure."

Julie-Anne thought her father's message sounded a bit cryptic and his voice suddenly seemed a little strained. But Russell was demanding her full attention. "Oh. I'll miss you!" she told her father gently.

"Hah!" He barked his laugh again. "Just don't hold back girl, take all the experiences life offers and make the very most of them."

"Yes Dad."

Julie-Anne heard her mother call 'Goodbye darling' from somewhere in the background. "Bye, then." she responded "Have a good time you two. Don't go falling off any mountains and, figuratively speaking, I'll try not to either."

"Hah!" . . . and he was gone.

Russell said nothing, but he pulled her down into the dark warmth under the duvet until her body, once again, melted into the rhythms of his.

*

In the morning, even without the kitchen range burning at its heart, Julie-Anne's cottage was a warm and homely place to be.

She'd slipped out of bed at the break of dawn and, feeling deliciously happy. She'd taken a warm shower, dressed in one of her new sets of silky underwear - some that hadn't been soaked in the puddle the night before - and wrapped herself sensuously in her new, silky, thigh length red gown. Her lovely, exposed legs seemed to glow health and energy as she skipped down the stairs.

In the kitchen she quietly cleaned out the range and lighted it whilst using the conventional oven to cook bacon, eggs and toast. Realising that Russell maybe needed to rest for a while longer she put the food on platters in the warming oven of the range where it would keep moist and tasty until he was ready to join her. Then she went and stood by the old butler's sink at the kitchen window and looked out.

Her cottage garden was coated in a layer of sparkling, thick frost that made it look like a magical wonderland. Although the temperature outside was hovering around the freezing point, the sun was shining from a clear blue sky, making everything twinkle and shine. She felt so happy. She could smell Christmas in the air and found that she was really looking forward to the festive spirit and all the treats that promised to come with it.

By the time Russell emerged Julie-Anne had pulled her box of Christmas decorations from the cupboard under the stairs. She'd also put her duffle coat and wellingtons on over her gown, trekked out into the frost and, surprisingly easily, sawn down one of the living Christmas trees that her father had, over the years, planted at the bottom of the garden. The tree now had pride of place in the bay of the living room window. Elegant strands of bronze and gold tinsel had been fixed around mirrors and picture frames and there were a couple of tasteful displays of holly and dried branches in big crystal vases on her wooden tables.

She was seated on the floor, untangling a string of Christmas tree lights when Russell shuffled barefoot into the room. His face opened into a broad, sexy smile when he saw her. He held out his hands and she took them, rising up into his arms in one smooth movement.

"Good morning my love." He said throatily, looking down into her face.

"Hi! I fixed breakfast, are you hungry?" She asked.

"This first!" he answered, bending his head to cover her mouth in a sensuous kiss that sent her belly into spasms of delight.

"Lovely outfit!" He eventually mumbled, shifting to push his hands under her duffle coat and stroke his fingers over the silky gown at the small of her back.

Julie-Anne burst into helpless giggles. "I'd forgotten I'd got my coat on!" she exclaimed. "I was so wrapped up in finding all the old Christmas decorations and making the room look nice, I forgot to take it off!"

A long golden curl slipped over Russell's tanned forehead. As she lifted her hand to brush it away for him, studying his rugged, unshaven features she remarked "You really are a Viking warrior aren't you?"

Finishing helping her pull off her coat he playfully slapped her bottom, answering "Yes I am Celtic wench - so you'd better get in the kitchen and prepare to feed me before I'm forced to plunder your body as a punishment for not serving my every need!" His blue eyes twinkled with merriment as Julie-Anne play-squealed and skipped away from his clutches, toward the kitchen. Laughing, she responded in a mock old English country accent, "Och, nay Mr. Viking! Best I be off to toil at your beck and call, afore ye turns into a dragon monster from Valhalla and eats me all up!"

Russell laughed heartily, "I can see I've got a lot to teach you!" he chortled. Following her into the kitchen he added "Seriously, is there anything I can do to help?"

"It's all ready." Julie-Anne reassured him. "I hope you've got the appetite of a Viking warrior though, I've made plenty."

Chapter seven

In her cosy cottage kitchen, the bacon and eggs, toast and marmalade all washed down with piping hot coffee could have been the most expensive meal of caviar and lobster it tasted so good to Julie-Anne. Occasionally, between mouths full, Russell would lean across to plant a light kiss on her lips or to brush imaginary crumbs away from the sensitive corners of her mouth.

Later, while they were in the lounge, decorating her Christmas tree, Russell gently asked her about her husband. For a second her body froze. In the last few hours she'd almost forgotten her past. It was as if, before last night, there'd been nothing. 'But', she supposed to herself, on reflection, 'the past is part of who I am today. I must come to terms with it all and try to lay my ghosts to rest."

"His name was Andrew." She told Russell, realising that she hadn't actually thought of Andrew by his given name since he'd passed away - and possibly not even for some long time before that. She wasn't able to say much about Andrew's work either. "He was a financier, in the City." she said, gazing wistfully at the place where one of their holiday snaps had once hung in its frame over the hearth. "He was pretty good with money, we never wanted for anything. Of course there's no mortgage to pay here and the bills are pretty small. Andrew had good insurance too, so I guess, . . . in his funny old way, he took good care of me in the end."

Russell exuded kindness and empathy, stroking Julie-Anne's long hair and allowing his firm, strong hand to rest for longer than necessary at her waist while she stretched to hang a bauble on a high branch of the now sparkle encrusted Christmas tree.

She turned and stepped forward so that his hand slipped over her back and they were, once more, locked together with their arms around one another.

"It's very sad." She said earnestly, looking up into Russell's serious blue eyed gaze, "But I never really loved Andrew, I know that now. I didn't ever once have the feelings when I was with him that I get now with you. On reflection we weren't even very close friends."

"Then you and I" Russell growled warmly, "will be the closest of friends as well as the greatest of lovers. We'll be everything together and nothing but half of of a beautiful whole when we're apart."

He stroked his forefinger down the length of her nose and further down to her sumptuous, red lips. She kissed the light finger tip as it travelled downward to her throat. Then she melted into the primal pleasure that shimmied up her spine while his fingers caressed the base of her throat before moving down to tease first one pouting breast, then the other.

Her petite body was pressed against the masculine firmness of his thighs and torso. Her undressed thighs tingled where they leaned against the warm, tight fitting denim of his new, black jeans. Her scantily clad belly flipped with sensations of pure pleasure where he held her firmly pressed to the muscular flatness of between his hips. Her quivering fingers stroked and caressed around the rippling muscles of his chest, slipping under his crisp white cotton shirt to feel the velvety smoothness of his skin in contrast with the texture of the fine blonde hairs that curled all over his male body.

Smiling at the irony that Russell had only just got dressed, she slipped his shirt buttons undone so that she could feel him more sensuously against her eager breast, marvelling at how this contact affected her through the silkiness of her robe. Looking up into his face, she slid her right hand up into the tangle of blonde curls at the back of his head and asked "Truly?"

"Oh, truly!" Russell affirmed huskily, leaning his head forward under the light pressure of her hand. He gazed at her mouth for a moment before taking up the kisses that pouted on her lips.

Somewhere n the background Russell had left the radio switched on. Suddenly Julie-Anne knew the depth of meaning of poetry and song lyrics, of phrases about drinking from one another's soul and being in love with angels, and all the words of all those silly love songs that she had, until now, dismissed as nonsense. She realised that those popular expressions of love meant more than she had ever before been aware.

Wrapped into one another's embraces, they sunk slowly down onto the hearth rug, between the shining red and green Christmas tree and the cottage hearth. As they tenderly, sensitively, generously and eventually more urgently, made love together there, Julie-Anne also realised just how it was that such impassioned acts of carnal desire were true physical expressions of the depths of their heartfelt love. We will be best friend and perfectly thrilling lovers, she thought happily as she lay snuggled in his arms afterwards.

The remainder of the time they spent together until Christmas seemed to Julie-Anne to become a whirl of happiness. They shared their time between her cottage and his rented place on Bramley Apple Lane, although Russell much preferred the time they spend at hers. They shopped together in the local county town and bought cards and presents to send to her parents and aunt in New Zealand. The people she bumped into at the village store, or when they ventured out for drinks at the village pub, all seemed to be friendly and as as happy as she was about how well she now looked. And everyone in the district, it seemed, was delighted when she and Russell got tickets to the village dance for New Year's Eve.

In the background Russell made daily phone calls to solicitors and agents to progress the purchase of his estate in the Yorkshire Ridings, on the edge of the Dales. He showed her photographs of the place. The house was a huge ten bedroom, five bathroom mansion set in 950 acres of private gardens along with three cottages and various out buildings. The remaining thousands of acres of the land was divided between a tenant farmer and a hunting and out-of-doors activities venture. Russell did not have any plans to change the arrangements with the farmer or with the company who managed the hunting and out-of-doors activities. He explained that these represented vital income and would make it much easier to keep the place up to a good standard.

When they discussed what it would be like living there they both took it for granted that Julie-Anne would moved up there with Russell as soon as he was ready to go.

Gradually the notion of marriage and children became something that Julie-Anne was also taking for granted. She never voiced these expectations. For one thing there was hardly any time when they weren't busy getting on with the bustles of the day . . . or absorbed by the activities of their long nights together. Quietly, unconcerned, she decided that the topic of marriage would be an appropriate thing to bring up on New Year's Eve. Perhaps that was even Russell's plan? Perhaps he was going to pop the question at the stroke of midnight on December the thirty-first? That would be just like him, to get his timing just right, to be so romantic and perfect. After a few moments of such contemplation, she would forget all about it and happily returned her attention to finishing a painted backdrop she'd been creating for the village player's up-coming January pantomime.

*

Russell was in the lounge reading the papers. Julie-Anne had spread all her painting equipment around the kitchen table and was really enjoying herself. She hadn't painted anything at all for years - not since she'd left university. This was such a delight, and because it was for the pantomime she felt that she could really relax and get the feel of the materials she was working with. It revived an old passion and interest that she had almost forgotten she'd once had. She'd switched the radio on to BBC Radio two and was happily singing along at the top of her voice, enjoying the words to all the heartfelt love songs.

She heard the telephone ring and ignored it. It was probably for Russell, so she looked very surprised when he came padding through to the kitchen and said "There's someone called Freddy on the phone for you!"

Julie-Anne gasped with delight, dropped her brushes and skipped past Russell calling back over her shoulder "She's an old friend from university, an absolute darling - you'd like her."

Freddy was excited, she was with Julie-Anne's other good friend Grace.

Freddy, Grace and Julie-Anne had been regaled as the terrible trio during their time together at University. Freddy was extrovert, flirtatious and very beautiful with fine blonde hair down to her waist and a sexy, husky voice that seemed to entice men to flock around her. Grace was the brown haired angel of the trio. She was tall and very slender with a mild manner and an endearingly shy smile. Grace went along with anything and everything because she did not have the strength of character to deny Freddy's characterful whims. Julie-Anne had been the steadying influence of the three, adventurous enough to get involved with Freddy's parties, giggling dormitory soirées and flighty trips; but sensitive enough to always make sure they drew the line before things, one way or another, got too raucous.

Even over the phone Julie-Anne could tell straight away that Freddy was excited.

"Oh my dearest girl!" Freddy drawled huskily, "I heard about your sad news with Andrew. I'm so sorry Julie-Anne, but then you know . . . well maybe this is an opportunity for you to start over and find yourself a more suitable life partner, eh? If it's not too insensitive of me to say that?"

Julie-Anne suppressed a girlish giggle. Sensitivity and holding back her thoughts had never been among Freddy's repertoire. "I think I'll be just fine Freddy, but thanks for your concern. Is Grace with you?"

Freddy confirmed that Grace was standing right beside her and went on to explain how excited they were because they had secured the tenancy for an art gallery in London and were due to open it on the first of February. "There's just such a lot to do!" Freddy exclaimed. "Anyway, darling, Grace and I thought it would be just super if we could come and spend a few days with you before Christmas. You know, the lull before the storm as it were. We could come down tonight and start a pyjama party - what do you say?"

Christmas was just a few short days away now. Time spent with Russell seemed both eternal and fleeting at the same time. It would be an interesting test to see how they got on with intruders coming into their seemingly insular little world.

Instinctively Julie-Anne laughed with delight and said "Yes, yes do come straight away." But then she thought 'Oh, my goodness - what will Freddy make of Russell!' and and added "I've got some news for you when you get here."

Freddy was intrigued but Julie-Anne didn't want to tell her about Russell over the phone so they finished the call in agreement that the girls would be arriving in about three hour's time.

Russell was delightfully pleased that Julie-Anne wanted to spend some time with her girl friends. "I was beginning to think you were a proper hermit!" he grinned. "When are they coming?"

Julie-Anne explained that they would arrive soon and asked Russell to take her down to the village store in his Lexus which was, nowadays, parked outside her cottage.

"Of course." he agreed, "In fact why don't I drop you off and go on to my own place? I've got a lot of paper work and phone calls to finish what with my writing and the house in Yorkshire. I could come back tomorrow afternoon and say 'Hi' to the girls when you've had a chance to spend some quality time with them. How does that sound?"

Julie-Anne couldn't have felt more pleased.

He drove her to the store and left her to make her own way home. She selected three bottles of good wine; some crisps, chocolates, nuts and nibbles from the shelves and paid for them with a big grin before skipping, almost running out of the place filled with excitement. She rehearsed what she would say about Russell as she happily made her way home.

The arrival of Freddy was, as always, like taking the lid off from a box of fire-crackers.

Freddy whirled through Julie-Anne's home inspecting and approving of the antique furniture and few fine porcelain ornaments that had come down through the family. Freddy had never visited here and Julie-Anne proudly explained that her family had lived in this very cottage for three generations as it had belonged to her mother's parents before her mother and father had married and so-on.

Grace shadowed Freddy's every move, delicately touching things here and there, smiling sweetly.

Eventually Julie-Anne herded them into the living room. There they sat on cushions on the floor just as they had when they were university students, and Freddy liberally poured wine to keep their glasses full while they laughed and chattered about times past and times to come.

Both Freddy and Grace sat in silence with their eyebrows raised while Julie-Anne explained about Russell. "My angelic girl!" Freddy declared "How exciting for you! I do hope he is as good in bed as he is at romancing you. Look at you! Your positively on fire."

"You do look well." Grace agreed.

Julie-Anne beamed with pride. "He's handsome, generous, apparently fabulously wealthy and yes, Freddy, he's the best lover in the world."

"Oooh!" Freddy wriggled conspiratorially closer, "Do tell more dear heart. I do love to hear all about the secret antics of good lovers!"

"Freddy!" Grace feigned shock at their friend's nosey behaviour, "Don't be so crude!"

Julie-Anne laughed again. "She's right Freddy - there are some grown up activities that a girl just doesn't discuss in detail, even with her best friend!"

Grumbling, Freddy agreed not to pry further and their conversation returned to her plans for the art gallery and her business partnership with Grace.

They never did dress up in their pyjamas. In fact they didn't go to bed either, the three girls sat up all night talking and laughing and relishing each other's company.

At ten o'clock in the morning they moved to the kitchen table and, having run out of alcohol some hours before, they made themselves some strong coffee while Grace baked some quick recipe oatmeal muffins which they ate warm for their breakfast.

Grace and Julie-Anne spent some quiet time talking about Grace's hopes of developing her own artistic skills as a sculptress. Julie-Anne had always admired Grace's works and she hoped that her friend would be very successful, especially with the opportunity of the gallery where maybe she could show some of her work and pick up some commissions. In the meantime Freddy rattled around at the sink washing up their glasses and breakfast things while throwing in comments about Grace's hopes and aspirations.

By the time Russell arrived at the back door Grace was lying on the sofa and Freddy had settled herself sideways across one of Julie-Anne's comfy chairs with her legs dangling over the arm and her head propped on several cushions.

Julie-Anne couldn't wait for him to get there. She was exhausted and felt in need of rescuing. He stepped into the kitchen, pulling her into his arms and greeting her silently with a kiss. Contented to rest in his arms she just stood quietly for a while until Freddy's loud voice echoed through from the lounge "Julie-Anne if that's sex-on-legs arriving I demand you bring him to me immediately!"

Julie-Anne cringed. She'd begun to realise that she wasn't enjoying Freddy's crudeness and loudness as much as she must have done years ago. By now the woman's loudness and crudity was just setting her nerves on edge.

Russell looked down at her and frowned "What have you been saying about me then?" he questioned on a low, disapproving voice.

"Nothing!" Julie-Anne hissed back, pulling away from him. "I haven't told them anything personal or vulgar. It's Freddy, I'd forgotten - that's just how she is. Sorry!"

With an air of detachment and maturity, Russell followed her through to the lounge.

Immediately Freddy began an outpour of what were supposed to be compliments about Russell being the strong, handsome, silent type while she and Grace stood up to be introduced.

Unsurprisingly, although Freddy was the more colourful and overtly attractive looking one of the girls it was angelic Grace that seemed to capture Russell's attention. He took her hand to shake it and seemed to hold it for longer than was necessary. Grace had hazel eyes and pale brown hair, she was as tall as Russell and her willowy figure seemed to bend naturally toward him as they looked at one another.

"Oooh, a strong man!" Freddy drawled, trying to pull Russell's attention back to herself. "Grace my darling," she continued to babble, "we will be in need of one of these tough, handy-man creatures to do the heavy chores around the place when we're setting up shop - why don't you see if he can be persuaded to run away from Julie-Anne and come to play with us instead?"

Grace flushed with colour.

Julie-Anne didn't know how to react. Freddy's approach had seemed so embarrassingly crude, treating Russell like a dumb handy-man. So she fled to the kitchen muttering about fixing afternoon tea for everybody.

She was leaving Russell to fend for himself for a few minutes. But even as she withdrew she couldn't help but notice that Russell's attention did not shift from Grace's face, and he was still holding her hand. This was dreadful, what on earth was happening?

Julie-Anne had never been given to fits of jealousy but now that her stomach was clenched in a knot of pain, and her mind was buzzing with ideas of Russell abandoning her to run off to a more exciting life with Grace and Freddy, she hardly knew how to stop herself from screaming.

When she returned, a few minutes later, having calmed herself with preparing a tray of tea and shop-bought fancy cakes, Julie-Anne was positively horrified to find Russell cosied down in the middle of the sofa with Freddy leaning on one arm while he and Grace were bowed together over a picture, their heads so close that their hair was almost entangled. Julie-Anne's knuckles whitened as she clutched at the edges of the tray and plonked it down on the table so-as to make a loud clattering sound. 'How can I get rid of these two dreadful women?' she thought desperately. "What are you three looking at?" she demanded, rather brusquely, aloud.

"Nothing!" Grace coloured and slipped the photograph into her jeans pocket. With feline smoothness Freddy turned her sultry dark blue eyes to look harshly at Julie-Anne. Her grip on Russell's arm seem to tighten more possessively.

Julie-Anne wanted to press the matter and find out what was suddenly going on, but something made her reserve her indignance and avoid an angry outburst. She thought she saw Russell furtively wink at Grace. The girl coloured in a flood of blushes and she seemed to turn away defensively from Russell's attentions, putting a small space between them on the sofa while Julie-Anne watched, dumfounded.

"It's nothing Julie-Anne." Russell stated, pushing himself up to stride across the room to the tea table. Leaning in to whisper in her ear he instructed simply "Let it go. I was just getting to know your friends, that's all."

Letting Julie-Anne know that she was still there and that she had the strong hearing of a night predator, Freddy said loudly "Speaking of letting things go my dearest one, our train leaves in a short while. We'll have a quick cuppa with you two, and then Grace and I must leave you lovers to your own devices." Her smile was one of a cat stalking it's prey with malice.

Julie-Anne's relief must have been visible. She couldn't wait for them to go, leaving her to restore the quietude and happiness that she and Russell had been nurturing around themselves. In the back of her mind she suppressed her urge to demand to know what they'd been looking at, what were Russell and Grace talking about so closely? However, she was now determined to get this visit over with as quickly as possible, and it was obvious that asking such questions would only string things out. So she smiled silently, poured tea demurely and refused to rise to Freddy's baiting.

Freddy made a great play of kissing Russell when she finally stood up to leave.

He offered them a lift to the station. Julie-Anne was almost beside herself with fury. She refused to accompany them and was quite gruff in wishing them well as they went. Turning back to her cottage she marched in and slammed the door behind her to give vent to her frustration. Russell would have a lot of explaining to do when he got back.

To make matters worse he was gone for an hour and a half, even though the drive to the station was only fifteen minutes.

Finally he came to Julie-Anne where she sat at her kitchen table, and pulled a chair to sit down beside her.

Her fists were balled on the table top and her knuckles were red from exasperated tension. Her face was set in a stubborn glare. "Well that was all very quickly done wasn't it? I leave you in a room with two women you've never met before and by the time I've poured a pot of tea you've practically got one of them sitting in your lap while the other is pawing at your arm. What was going on there, that's what I'd like to know?"

"You're exaggerating what you think you saw." Russell protested, "I was just being pleasant with your friends. It's not as if you came in and found us romping around your living room naked together or anything is it?"

As a shock reaction the very idea Russell had just put forward Julie-Anne burst out laughing. Frustration and tension were released when she play-slapped at his arm and, with a sweeping gesture, swiped away the laughter tears that streamed from her eyes.

"Hey you!" he said gently, "Don't come over all suspicious and possessive on on me now. After all it is nearly Christmas and they are your good friends - maybe we were conspiring about what gift I should get you, eh!"

'Of course! How could I have been so stupid?' Julie-Anne immediately accepted his hint of an explanation and sat staring gratefully up into his handsome face.

"Do you love me Russell?" She sought reassurance.

"I love you truly." He answered, bending forward to kiss her forehead. "Now, where were we before your friends came along and so rudely interrupted us?"

The rest of their Christmas was an intimate and cosy time. They got up late, ate simple healthy meals together, walked the country lanes in the white frost and golden winter sunshine; and they curled up each evening in front of a roaring log fire.

When it was bath or shower time Russell was happy to spend an hour or more washing and brushing Julie-Anne's hair, massaging her back with moisturisers and essential oils or pampering her feet with soft creams and kisses.

When it was bed time he continued to be a satisfying and most generous lover. She prayed that the attentions she paid to him were as thrilling and as cherished as those he lavished on her. Her jealousy regarding his apparently immediate intimacy with Grace were quickly and easily forgotten.

On Christmas morning, sitting in Julie-Anne's bed together, they unwrapped their presents to each other. She'd bought him a very smart Italian leather brief case because she'd noticed that he tended to carry his papers either loose or in a very old cracked leather Gladstone bag. "That might be all right for a teacher", she explained, "but when you become lord of your ten bedroomed manor you're going to need to look the part.!" She'd also bought him a decent pair of leather gloves and a cashmere scarf in blue to highlight his eyes. When he peppered her with kisses of thanks she shrugged and, smiling cheekily, said "What do you give the man who has inherited millions?"

"Yeah," he responded, looking serious for a moment, "I'm still trying to get to the bottom of that. I mean the amount my father left me is far more that you'd expect a simple man to have amassed from straightforward ventures and investments. Anyway, it seems that dad was left pretty well off by his own father. I've been doing some digging and it seems there was a family rift which caused my dad to pretty much turn his back on his own inheritance and live as if it didn't exist. Crazy eh?"

Julie-Anne grinned, leaning over to tenderly kiss Russell, she murmured "I'd take you with or without the fabulous wealth. I kind of like things just the way they are right now. It'll be funny when things start to change and you start to move up in the world."

"Well, here's my first ever really extravagant gift, bought for you, my darling, from my fabulous personal wealth!" With an expression of purest adoration, he handed her a small oblong box shaped parcel which Julie-Anne eagerly unwrapped to reveal a beautiful gold and diamond set watch. "Let's not behave like kids though." Russell added throatily, "I don't want you to make a habit of making vulgar remarks about money. From here on you must learn to be more sophisticated about it."

Julie-Anne coloured up a little at his admonishment but he was smiling at her and, after having helped her to fasten her new watch, he busied his hands with bringing her body to an aroused state.

Chapter eight

When New Year's Eve came Russell popped home to change and promised to meet Julie-Anne at the village hall at seven thirty.

Julie-Anne had been into town with him and they'd bought new outfits for the dance. Hers was a strapless Christian Dior from the cruise collection for that season. It was a turquoise blue, embroidered bustier dress in silk chiffon with tiny pleated details on the long billowing skirts. A feminine bow held the floating fabric in at a high waist and shimmering coloured sequins had been hand sewn into the embroidered top.

On her petite figure, with her dark hair lovingly brushed to a glossy shine and groomed into a cascade of succulent curls that cascaded over her bare shoulders, she looked stunning.

She had chosen a pair of strappy, sexily high healed sandals in gold and turquoise to go with the dress, and had a chunky gold chain with a fine turquoise stone that hung to just above her bosom, enhancing the curve of her delicate neck and showing off the contrasts between the tones of her fine skin and those of the delectable dress. Of course her new gold and diamond watch adorned her slender wrist and her gold fabric clutch bag with tiny turquoise stones on the clasp set off the whole outfit just perfectly.

To protect her outfit Julie-Anne splashed out on a taxi to drive her to the village hall, arriving a fashionable ten minutes late. When she walked in, the sight of Russell done up in a handsome black dress suit with an almost blindingly white shirt and smartly tied bow tie took her breath away. His bronzed face had never looked so handsome, his blonde curls had been tamed and provided an angelic halo around his finely chiselled temple. The white collar seemed to glow against his tanned neck. His broad chest heaved under crisp cotton when he gasped at the sight of Julie-Anne's dress. As he strode across the hall with his hands outstretched toward her, the big muscles of his thighs strained against the fine fabric of his trousers. People watched and smiled as she fell into his arms.

"Good Lord!" Russell breathed into her hair, "I leave you at home on your own for a couple of hours and you've turned into a goddess!"

"What about you?" She asked, laughing as she pulled back to look up into his shining eyes. "What have you done with my unruly Viking warrior? This impeccable looking gentleman must surely be an impostor?"

Russell freed one hand from his embrace to pull at the neck of his shirt where the neatly knotted bow tie held it firmly to his throat. "Beware of Vikings in smart suits!" he murmured, "I can only imagine how splendid it will be when I don my old horned helmet later on tonight and drag you by the hair to our lair to pillage that fine goddess body of yours."

Before she could answer him the band struck up and he swept her onto the dance floor in a swirling waltz. They had never danced together before and Julie-Anne was delighted to find he had masterful expertise as he guided her around the floor. His touch in the small of her back was at once light and controlling - she was like putty in his hands. The evening melted away as they swirled and danced together, their bodies seeming to be perfectly attuned to dance in time without faltering.

At nine thirty they stopped to sit down and eat the supper laid on as part of the evening. Julie-Anne hardly noticed the food she ate as she coyly acknowledged compliments from folk she knew from the village store, and once even from a couple who were prefect strangers. She stayed close to Russell so that their thighs were touching under the table. He kept one hand on her leg, tantalising the sensitive spot behind her knee so that she wriggled with secret delight, sipping her glass of wine and nibbling on roasted meats. Being so close to him in public was electrifying.

After they'd finished eating and she'd rested for a while with her head on his smartly suited shoulder, they went back to the dance floor and spent from ten-thirty until eleven forty-five smooching in each other's arms, whispering 'I love you truly' into each other's hair line, and enjoying the flirtatious sensations of the physical passions that seemed to swell up between them. Sometimes it was almost too much to bear, their bodies lusts urged them to just stand still and kiss. Julie-Anne felt as if she in a waking dream, nothing could have felt more perfect than their love for one another on this evening.

Eventually the music was halted and everybody got ready for the village chimes to bong out a count of twelve. The crowd inside the hall counted down from ten until the chimes started, then they cheered raucously and laughed and started to move around Russell and Julie-Anne singing Auld Lang syne, shaking hands and kissing merrily to bring in the New Year.

Russell covered Julie-Anne's mouth with his own and pressed his tongue into the soft, moist, secret depths of hers. The passion of his kiss almost suffocated her as he explored her mouth and held her so tightly in his arms. On the last cheer of the crowd's hip-hip-hooray he finally let her go and stepped back to kneel on the floor in front of her.

People saw what was happening and excitedly gathered to make a circle around them. Julie-Anne began to shake in anticipation of what was coming as Russell fumbled to pull a tiny black box from the inside pocket of his dress jacket. He flipped open the lid and proffered up a sparkling diamond ring.

Julie-Anne stared at the ring, it was not ostentatious or crass, it was just a perfect solitaire gleaming beautifully against its black setting.

He looked up into her wide-open eyes. "Truly?" he asked.

Julie-Anne's knees began to tremble and a terrible hard fist of a knot twisted her stomach and rose up to tighten her throat so that she could not breath. Her head began to swim and visions of her first wedding blanked out all of the noises and sights around her at this merry little village party.

A misted image of Andrew's face overtook her mind.

She gasped and saw, in her mind's eye, Andrew looking so . . . so uninterested, so matter of fact, so lacking in love and dispassionate. Her mind recalled that wedding when she had shyly lifted the white veil from her face and looked up into Andrew's eyes. Andrew's dull, loveless eyes. Even on that day she should have seen that his pretence of love and romance had already been cast aside. He'd got her to marry him - job done! All that remained for Andrew after that day had been to move into her conveniently ready home and get on with his life, calling only on Julie-Anne's personal attention if it suited him to take her somewhere or to satisfy his passionless needs.

Here in the village hall, at the stroke of midnight, with Russell kneeling expectantly before her, her whole body was now quaking with fear. A feeling of sickness washed through her head making her feel nauseated and desperate to get out to the fresh air.

Russell was clutching her shivering hand, she could see his face smiling up at her as if through a fog, he was trying to put the ring on her finger and looking puzzled as if he was waiting for her to say something.

Suddenly horrified, she shook her head and pulled her hand free.

Russell tried to snatch it back but she couldn't do this, she just couldn't.

She grabbed the flowing skirts of her gown and made a dash for the door. If she'd opened her mouth to speak, to try to explain she'd just be sick, she knew she would. So she ran.

Gasping, Julie-Anne stumbled out into the frozen dark night and on up the lanes on her high heels that cruelly turned her ankles and caused pain to shoot up her calves. Clutching her skirts as if they were a life line she kept on running until she was home . . . safe . . . alone.

She fled up the stairs to her bed room, tearing off her shoes and necklace as she went, and threw herself, sobbing, onto her bed.

A few moments later she heard the door slam and Russell's footsteps heavy on the stairs. Through tear veiled eyes she saw his shape outlined against the landing light, framed in her bedroom door. Ashamed of her behaviour she turned her face away from him. He stood still for a while watching her as she lay sobbing into her pillow. With the stealth of a cat he moved to sit on the bed beside her and gently started to stroke the back of her head. "Hey you!" he whispered, "Don't run away - not now."

Eventually she gathered enough self-control to roll over and look up at him. He patiently smoothed her dark hair where it spread over a white cotton pillow. He used the ball of his thumb to softly wipe tear stains from her swollen cheeks. He wiped away a smudge of lipstick from her trembling chin. Finally he settled his eyes to lock and hold hers and said "Well, you're a one for running away at critical moments aren't you?"

"I'm so sorry Russell," she implored "it's just that I suddenly had visions of what marriage has meant to me in the past." She pushed herself up onto her elbows so that her face was closer to his. "I'm so sorry Russell, I don't mean to turn you down but, well . . . I just can't face ruining what we have. Does that make any sense to you?"

"In a way it does," he conceded. "But you must know Julie-Anne, I do love you truly. I would do nothing to hurt you, I promise. But I can't encourage this habit you have of running off all the time. Every time something happens to bring us closer together you make a bolt for it."

Julie-Anne began to feel like one of Russell's old students, as if she was being admonished for her lax behaviour. He was making her feel silly.

Russell leaned down to speak softly near her ear. In the gloom of the unlit bedroom his words left her cold. "I am going to give you a bit of space to cool down for a few days. I'm going down to spend the night at Bramley Apple Lane and then in the morning I'm going up to Yorkshire for a few days. I suggest you spend some time thinking about what you want from people and how you've been treating me. I can't be chasing 'round after you every time you choose to run away from me." He drew back to look down sternly at her. "Think about growing up a bit will you." he gruffed, and with that he stood and strode away into the darkness.

"Wh - what do you mean?" she croaked.

"Well," he stepped back to lean against the door frame, "first you ran away from me when we went to Yorkshire, then there was that silly nonsense about Grace just before Christmas, as if I was likely to run off with the first friend of yours that made eyes at me . . . and now, now this! If you'd rather run away or compare me with Andrew instead of accepting my commitment to you then I think you're just being shallow and childish. These sorts of silly games are not my style Julie-Anne. There's some part of you that you keep holding back, I'd hoped you'd give all of yourself, unconditionally, tonight. Well, I guess you're not ready. It needs to be truly Julie-Anne - not almost or partly, but absolutely and truly. I'm sorry." With that he turned quietly and walked silently out of her house . . . out of her life.

"No Russell . . . !" Julie-Anne whispered hoarsely, too quietly for him to hear, "Please don't give up on me."

*

He'd left her feeling as if she'd been thrown out in the freezing wastes without a coat. A sensation as cold as ice was crawling over her skin. Her sense of desolation was physically painful. "I've ruined everything!' she berated herself. "I've lost him . . . we'll never get back the carefree happiness we've had here together . . . things will never be able to be the same again." Broken hearted and alone she sunk into a fitful sleep.

To add to her worries, in her dreams Grace appeared and she saw visions of Russell and Grace sitting together with their foreheads touching and their fingers tangled in a lovers hold while they whispered and spoke in sexually charged undertones that Julie-Anne just could not decipher. Jealousy swelled in her heart and she began to see Russell as a deceitful swine. The few times she awoke in the darkness she could only comfort herself with wild and furious imaginings of clawing Grace's horrid hazel eyes from her face, or of making something awful happen to her. When she sunk back into sleep Freddy's evil laugh seemed to be the background rhythm of the night that Julie-Anne was trapped in.

*

At six in the morning the sharp trill of the telephone ringing was a relief as it jarred Julie-Anne from her awful dreams. She stumbled off the bed and picked up the receiver, looking mournfully down at the crumpled state of her lovely turquoise gown.

"Hello darling."

"Mother?" Her mother sounded different, not her usual laughing self. "What's wrong?"

"I'm afraid your father wasn't quite honest with you last time you spoke." Her mother sounded tired and worried. "We weren't going for one of our adventure trips, he has been in hospital having some treatment for his heart condition. I've been staying on the ward to be near him. I"m afraid it's got worse, he's not very well dear. We didn't want to worry you unduly but . . ."

There was an uncomfortable pause. Her mother never cried, at least not as far as she knew, but Julie-Anne was pretty sure she was crying now.

"He'd like to see you dear. Do you think that's possible?" The woman did her best to sound matter of fact.

"I'll come right away. I'll pack now and go straight to the airport. I'll keep in touch with you as I go so that you know how my journey's progressing." Julie-Anne clutched at the opportunity to involve herself in the journey and to go spend time with her parents; to get away from the events of the last few hours and to escape the feeling of abandonment now that Russell had gone.

"What about your young man?" her mother enquired. "Can you just leave him immediately?"

"I'll explain when I get there." Julie-Anne affirmed, "But, in short, yes - I'm free to come immediately. I'll hang up now Mother and I'll call you later from the airport - okay?"

"All right darling, if your sure."

Julie-Anne reluctantly hung up. She sat staring at the phone for a while, allowing the free flow of tears. She knew that, half a world away, her mother would be weeping too. She wanted more than anything to go and be with her. Were these the only two people she could trust to love her without frightening her? No, she decided, even my own parents ended up abandoning me. Still, she found the energy to pack her clothes and phone for a taxi to take her to the airport.

*

For some of the flight Julie-Anne managed to sleep. Luckily there was no-one sitting next to her so she didn't have to try to keep up any conversation. But when she was awake her mind juddered relentlessly from thoughts of Russell telling her to think about growing up and admonishing her for running away.

Why had she run away from his proposal? She couldn't get it straight in her head.

When she managed to push Russell from her thoughts she ended up worrying about her father. How was he really? She kept thinking the worst was about to happen and she would lose him just when she felt she was about to make a proper friendship from their relationship. His advice to her about taking the chances life has to offer, and his confession about the way he'd treated her mother with cold indifference for far too long were treasure to her. During those brief conversations her father had been a life-line, a friend and a hero for her. She prayed that this was not to be the end . . . of either of her two most important relationships.

*

The flight went via Shanghai, Pudong where she had to sit and wait for endless hours for the second leg of her journey. Julie-Anne was in an inert, dreamlike state and hardly noticed any of the new surroundings. Eventually she arrived at her destination. Her aunt, Annie, and her mother were there at Auckland airport to meet her. "Haeri mai - Welcome!" said a large, friendly sign.

When she finally got through the formalities of customs, and was able to join them Julie-Anne hugged her mother as if she'd never let go.

"Come on then!" Aunt Annie cajoled, "Let's get you two ladies home so that we can freshen up and go see your man in hospital." Julie-Anne hugged Annie briefly and the three women went to the car.

All the way home Annie pointed out things of interest. She explained that Auckland was seen to be a vibrant and modern place. It was, she explained like a tour guide, New Zealand’s largest city promising a blend of sophistication and charm that might just be what Julie-Anne needed to bring herself out of herself.

Annie said she looked forward to having time, later on, to take her sister and niece to the bustling shopping district. She described the chic waterfront bars and restaurants. As they moved to the outer edges of the city Annie pointed out several of the lovingly restored clapboard villas in Auckland's leafy inner suburbs.

She saw Sky Tower and her mother promised they'd climb it soon to look at the views together.

"There's loads of art and culture here for you as well." Annie promised, "About a fifth of Auckland’s one million inhabitants are of Polynesian descent." While her aunt described the museum and it's proud collections of Maori artefacts Julie-Anne pictured in her mind's eye the fusion of traditions and vibrant colourful art works that must have come about as a result of the history of this place.

During their drive Julie-Anne could see why Auckland was known as the ‘City of Sails’, all things nautical seemed to feature prominently and, her aunt explained that the city had its own America’s Cup Village in the viaduct basin. "That's a must-see too!" Annie carried on happily, "Oh, I'm so glad you finally got yourself out here."

Her mother smiled warmly and said, "Perhaps I can get you out to hike with me around the forest trails of the Waitakere Ranges? Or we could take the ferry to the islands of Waiheke and Rangitoto in the Hauraki Gulf - you'll love the beaches!" Clearly excited about having Julie-Anne to show around she even suggested "If your dad gets better we could go further and visit the Bay of Islands and Rotorua. I think you'd just have so much fun, there's so much to see."

Julie-Anne smiled quietly from her perch in the back seat of the car and felt glad that her mother was optimistic about her father's health. She just wanted her dad to get better so that even thinking about going out and about on day-trips could become a possibility. But she had a nagging feeling that would be a long time coming. She also began to realise that she did not want to stay here for any longer than seemed necessary - now that she'd flown half way around the world all of her aunt's and mother's excitement was doing nothing to make her feel that she actually wanted to stay. "How is dad?" she asked.

"Let's not waste time speculating - let's go and visit with him right away. I guess you'll feel more settled if we do that, what d'you think?" Annie interjected brightly.

Julie-Anne nodded gratefully and Annie adjusted the direction of their journey.

*

The sight of her father hooked up to hospital machines and breathing apparatus was deeply depressing, but not really any less than Julie-Anne had coached herself to expect. She sat silently next to her mother at his bed side, sipping tea from a vending machine and found herself day dreaming about Russell.

"Penny for them?" her mother softly questioned.

"Actually . . . ", and in the quiet cool room Julie-Anne found herself softly confessing all to her mother and seeking guidance as to what to do next.

"Do you mean to tell me you just jumped on an aircraft and flew half way around the world without telling him?" the older woman hissed in a concerned rasp.

"Well yes, I suppose I have." Julie-Anne admitted.

"Oh child! Even if you've decided to leave him you should at least let him know and tell him you're safe. Although form everything you've said I'm not sure that you've given him the chances he deserves."

Julie-Anne bit her bottom lip. If she called him now how would that make her feel? How did she feel about Russell? She was so unsure of herself. She stared emptily at her father and wished he would get better so that he could give her more of his bold, experienced advice.

"Oh dear!" her mother groaned. "I shouldn't interfere and push you toward this man darling. Perhaps if you aren't sure you should try having a break and see what happens - but you really should tell him where you are. Poor chap, he's bound to be so worried. As far as he's concerned you've just disappeared off the face of the earth. He's bound to have tried to contact you."

"Hmmn." Julie-Anne smiled vacantly and quietly decided she would just phone Russell and see how their conversation went.

Later, when they'd arrived back at aunt Annie's home Julie-Anne picked up the receiver and dialled England. It was seven o'clock in the evening in Auckland, that meant it would be six in the morning in Surrey. She hung on anxiously, wondering if he was away in Yorkshire. She wouldn't mimd if he didn't answer because that would allow her to leave a message on his machine and not have to try to explain herself to him. The ringing stopped and his blurry voice said "Hello?" as clearly as if he were in the next room. Julie-Anne jumped.

"Oh, er, Russell. Hello!" she blurted.

"Hello you! Where are you? I called your house last night but got no reply." He sounded sleepy but relaxed.

"Um - I'm in New Zealand. My dad has been taken ill!" she said, trying to sound matter of fact about it. Her imagination was forming an image of Russell still sleepy from waking up, with his golden curls tousled around his handsome face and his strong, golden shoulders still naked because he wouldn't have put a shirt on yet. She longed to reach out and stroke his smooth skin.

"Good grief!" his tone startled her back to reality. "New Zealand? You could have let me know you were going!"

"I didn't know much in advance, its Dad you see." She offered.

"Julie-Anne?"

"Yes?"

"Is it really over between us? Have you run so far away this time that I really can't come after you any more?"

His question hurt her more than she could have expected. Is that what she was doing? Was she running away again?

"Russell, I - I'm not sure," she faltered.

"I do love you, truly I do. But I just can't seem to convince you Julie-Anne. God knows I've tried. Every time I start to get close you gallop off and I'm left feeling rejected. I meant what I said the other night, I don't think I can keep this up. Especially now that you've gone so far."

Julie-Anne could not answer him.

"Stop crying." He could hear her anguish over the phone. "You're not being fair any more. The best I can offer you is a choice Julie-Anne; either you come to me of you own free will this time or we really must call it a day. I've been up to Yorkshire, my deal is completed and I'd come home to find you and talk things out calmly - now this!"

"I expect someone like Grace would look after you properly!" Julie-Anne heard herself croak bitterly.

"What?" Russell sounded shocked by the suggestion.

"Look Russell," Julie-Anne had started this line of childish, jealous reasoning now and she couldn't stop herself, "twice now, and despite what you're saying to me, you seem more than ready to break up with me. And you can't really think that I didn't notice the cosy little relationship you were striking up with Grace. You helped me when I needed a friend, but that's all Russell. You don't have to keep up the facade any more, it's okay."

"What are you talking about woman?" Now he sounded really angry. Had she voiced his secret? Was Russell really a womaniser? Was he prepared to sit in dark corners and whisper sweet nothings with the likes of Grace whilst stringing Julie-Anne along? She felt as if she hardly knew him. She could picture the pulse under his strong neck muscle pumping as his anger began to rouse. She knew that the muscles of his arms and chest would begin to ripple as he tensed and reacted to what she was saying. "You're crazy!" he almost shouted, "Grace? What ever gave you that stupid idea? It was you I was proposing to wasn't it? It was you I was sharing my life with, making plans with . . . taking up to Yorkshire to build a new beginning for us both!"

Julie-Anne tried very hard to picture a future, to see that new life Russell was so hell bent on starting. All she could imagine was the same cold loneliness she had lived with in her first marriage and that thought of that left her stomach churning and her eyes streaming with tears of fear and anxiety. "I'm sorry Russell. I don't know what to say. I'm too scared to go any further with you that's all."

"Well, I gave you the choice," he said, with finality in his tone, "But don't come at me with that other nonsense about Grace - that's just stupid."

There was a long silence. Eventually Russell said "Bye then Julie-Anne. I do love you, truly I do." Then he hung up and was gone.

Neither her mother nor her aunt could stop the tears that Julie-Anne cried over the next three days. And neither of them could even persuade her to come out of the house, not even to go with them on their visits to her father. It was only after her mother came home breathless and excited at the end of the third day to tell her that her father had regained consciousness that Julie-Anne was finally able to start to get a grip on herself again.

The next morning she hurried to get ready to go to the hospital. She spent a little time treating her swollen eyes with ice cold water and being careful to put on some flattering make-up. It was her father who needed patience and sympathy not her, she knew that. The journey seemed to take ages although Annie was a good driver and her mother chattered all the way about how good the weather was.

Finally she stood by her father's bedside looking into eyes as dark and enticing as her own, gently smoothing back his rich dark hair that was clearly the prototype for hers, and they smiled matching, gentle smiles at one another.

"Hi!" she almost whispered.

"Hello my girl!" he wriggled a little so that he was slightly more elevated on his pillows. "How's your love life?" his eyes twinkled cheekily.

"Died a death I'm afraid Dad!" she confessed, "I'm afraid I couldn't quite summon up the nerve to make a proper commitment to it all."

"Pity!" He grunted and seemed to sink back into his bed, almost as if his disappointment was making him shrink away from her.

"More to the point - how are you?" Julie-Anne's mother cut in, smiling brightly at her husband and drawing his attention away from Julie-Anne.

She sat quietly, listening to her parents talking for a while. Then, not wanting to intrude on their private time together, she went out to the corridor to get herself a cup of tea. She put the coin into the machine and grabbed at the hot drink as soon as it finished dispensing. She was feeling impatient, disappointed, now even her dad was fed up with her and she wasn't going to be able to do anything to persuade him that she wasn't just a timid little waste of space. She swung away from the machine, remonstrating with herself, feeling sorry for herself and, as she moved, smashed the plastic cup of hot liquid into the chest of a male nurse who was approaching to grab himself a drink for his quick break between patients.

Hot tea surged all over his dark blue tunic making him yelp and jump backward.

"Oh-my-god-I'm-so-sorry!" Julie-Anne gabbled. And then, probably because she'd done nothing else for several days now, she burst into tears.

The nurse, who was standing with his arms spread and a look of pure fury on his face seemed to melt in response to her tears. "Hey now!" he exclaimed, "No need for tears. Come on, I'll smuggle you into the staff canteen and we'll get a proper cup of tea together. I can grab a new tunic on the way, eh?"

Not knowing what else to do with herself Julie-Anne dumbly nodded and followed him along the passages of the big hospital building. When they were settle in the canteen she apologised again and, in response to his questions, she mumbled something about splitting up with her boyfriend in England and having her dad so ill in hospital. The nurse forgave her with a hearty laugh and said "Well my only worry is a bit of extra laundry, so let's say no more about it."

Julie-Anne managed a weak smile and found a lot of comfort in sipping her hot tea from a canteen issue, green china cup.

"Actually, I lied a bit just then." The nurse said cheerfully.

"Oh?" she studied his big brown eyes and open, friendly face.

"Yeah, I have got one other worry! I gotta go to a party tomorrow night and I got no-one to take with me. Hows about you commin' along? No strings or anything, just like a mate, eh?"

Her mind raced. 'Why not?' she thought, 'This could be exactly what I need, something to inject some interest and opportunity into my life before I become positively suicidal.' So she said, "Thank you, yes. I'd like that very much."

The nurse glanced at his watch and cursed under his breath. "Look, I gotta get going now. My name's Ben by the way. Can you meet me in the entrance foyer of the hospital about seven o'clock? I think it'd be the simplest all around if you can ."

Julie-Anne told him her name and agreed to be at the hospital foyer for seven the following evening. After Ben had gone she decided this might be just the thing to cheer her father up too. Smiling she made her way back to his bed side to tell him all about the nurse, whose accent she just adored, and the adventure she had just agreed to go on.

Chapter nine

"Perhaps it'll be a beach party somewhere?" Annie speculated over breakfast the next morning.

"Yeah, the weather's good enough!" Julie-Anne's mother agreed. "What are you going to wear darling? Do you fancy some shopping to get something new?"

"Oooh yes - let's!" Annie agreed.

Julie-Anne couldn't resist the opportunity to self-indulge a little and felt as if new clothes would help her to find a new self to go out and make the most of this new experience. Things seemed to be looking up. Her mother was happy because her father had made a little improvement in his health; her aunt was happy to be with female company and Julie-Anne was able to let herself catch the jovial mood. Maybe she could set her ever brooding thoughts of Russell aside for a while at least.

The three women moved from store to store chattering about the clothes they saw and fashions in general. They giggled together like three sisters and they had a glass of wine and lunch at Annie's favourite little salad bar. Shortly after lunch Julie-Anne selected a sweet little pants suit with tight, ski-pant style trousers and a fitted jacket that curved in to her petite waist to show of her trim little figure. It was in a vibrant candy pink colour, enriched by the cascade of her thick, dark hair tumbling in ringlets over her shoulders. She was lucky enough that Annie spotted a pair of pink pumps that exactly matched the colour and her mother agreed that the whole outfit was fun and very attractive for going out to meet new friends.

"Are you sure you're not nervous darling, going out with strangers? It's a first for you!" Her mother fussed when Annie bundled them into the car to take her mother to visit with her father and she to meet with Ben at the hospital.

"I'm sure I'll be fine!" she reassured, "Just like Dad says - I need to take a few chances and get involved in the adventures life has to offer!" She didn't say that her stomach was doing summersaults or that Russell had been looming in her minds eye since shortly after breakfast. She must forget him and move on, she must.

*

Ben was prompt for their seven o'clock meeting. Julie-Anne took a good look at him as he approached her. He was wearing tight jeans and a close fitting white shirt that strained to cover his heavy shoulders and thickly developed muscles. He was not much taller than Julie-Anne, 'Not tall and handsome like Russell' she found herself comparing and tried to stop it. Ben's eyes were lively brown expressions of boyish fun set in a round, jolly face. When he grinned his teeth were pearl white against his dark skin. All in all he had the appearance of a cheeky, fun person.

When he joined her by the doorway he raised his eyebrows appreciatively and said "Nice outfit, you're out to turn some head, eh?" She was pleased. She had teamed the sugary pink suit with a cropped top in mat white silk that showed her tanned mid-rift and emphasised her flat belly and shapely hips. She had got out of the habit of wearing young person's clothes and this was already a lot of fun that she'd almost forgotten how to have.

"Where are we going?" she wondered aloud.

"Oh, not far. Friend of mine's got a place out on the beach, it's his birthday." Ben explained. "His wife is throwing this surprise party for him. C'mon, we'll grab a cab."

Julie-Anne couldn't help but grin at Ben's vibrant enthusiasm.

"What?" He flashed a quick frown, "Have I got spinach in me teeth or something?"

"Not at all!" Julie-Anne laughed, "I'm just enjoying your accent, that's all."

"My accent - you can talk! You sound like you swallowed a whole tree full of plums, posh English lady!" he teased back.

They got into the cab with an air of merriment. Julie-Anne already felt like Ben was an old friend, someone she could comfortably josh with.

Ben's friend's house, and the beach of black volcanic sand it backed down to, where both clean, modern and very lovely. Julie-Anne seemed to hit it off right away with Gloria, the wife who was hosting the party. When her husband Jim arrived and was suitably surprised by all his friends who had gathered at his home, he came to Julie-Anne and Ben with his arm wrapped high around Gloria's shoulder and greeted them with absolute glee. "Come on and join the gang, let's show you how we like to have fun!" he enthused to Julie-Anne.

She chattered to a group of people about the Maori art works that hung in Gloria's living room. The pictures and wall hangings were lovely and Julie-Anne enjoyed hearing about them from the people that knew their history and the stories behind them.

Then she went outside to the barbecue where she was helped to a huge burger with salad and relish oozing out from the bun. She giggled affably and chattered to two young men who were discussing rugby and deciding what to watch over the weekend.

Then Ben came and escorted her down toward the beach where there was music and a bonfire was beginning to light up the slowly thickening twighlight. They danced together in the black volcanic sands, kicking up their feet and acting like two happy children.

Then the music slowed down and the night sky became a blaze of silver sparkles as the stars shone. Julie-Anne was enchanted. Ben took her in his thick, muscular arms and, tough as he looked, was surprisingly gentle with her petite body as he guided her around in a waltz. When the dance had finished she began to feel awkward, standing against him with her hands on his chest, looking directly into his smiling eyes, Julie-Anne realised she felt nothing. Not the slightest tinge of fancy for this lovely, joy filled young man who stood looking expectantly at her, eyeing her full lips and daring to glance down toward her throat and beyond. It was an awkward moment. She wished that Russell could be there to rescue her. She wanted to go home!

There was a brief respite as the music started up again and one of the young sportsmen came whirling in to swing Julie-Anne away to dance giddily with him. He then passed her on to his friend who eventually handed her fingertips lightly to a blonde haired boy from the heart of the city who, she'd learned earlier, was studying law and would soon be fully qualified to practice on his own. The music was slow again and this slender, refined young man held her tenderly as they circled around together. Once or twice he leaned back to look into her face and smile. His was an almost pretty face that belied the strength of his masculine physique. Julie-Anne clung only to her enjoyment of the music and the happy company whilst secretly praying that none of these men would get carried away and try to kiss her or do anything even more embarrassing.

When this dance was over Ben approached and took her by the wrist - "Better not lose you to strangers Jo-o-ols!" he drawled, a little the worst for the amount of alcohol he'd had to drink by now.

"D'you know what?" She smiled back to him,

"Nah! What?" he grinned, wobbling unsteadily in the sand.

"I think its time I called a cab and said good-night. It's been such fun but I don't want to over do it on my first night out as a single do I?" She smiled widely at Ben, hoping he wouldn't decide to become possessive or silly about letting her go home.

"Awggh!" Ben exclaimed, looking giddy and mockingly sad at the same time. Then to Julie-Anne's greatest surprise he passed out and fell straight back over into the sand at her feet.

"S'alright luv!" Gloria laughed heartily, coming over to join Julie-Anne in staring down at Ben, "He's just had a few too many brews. Don't take it personally. In his line of work he gets to deal with some pretty gruesome and frankly very sad cases alot-o-the time. He just gets a bit carried away when he gets the chance to come out and let off steam, that's all."

"Will he be okay?" Julie-Anne looked at Gloria for reassurance.

"Right as rain in the morning, I promise, I've seen it all before, y'know. I'll get a couple of the lads to put him to bed. More to the point, do you need anything?"

Julie-Anne got Gloria's permission to use her phone, and the name of a reliable cab company. In a short while she was on her way back home to Annie's place. It was past midnight and the sky was a real glory of stars. Enchanted by what she could see of the night sky through the window of the cab, Julie-Anne paid the driver quickly when they arrived. After he'd gone she lay on the soft grass of Annie's back lawn and stared up at the array of twinkling silver points. 'Oh Russell!' she breathed silently, 'I wish I thought you could be looking up at this same magical sight! I wish you were here to wonder at the glory of it with me. I wish I hadn't been such a fool!'

When she finally peeled herself up from the ground and shuffled inside her head was full of thoughts about what a future with Russell might have been like. Visions of his crystal blue eyes and heart melting smile kept floating through her mind. She thought about the ten bedroomed mansion and what it would have been like to be able to furnish and decorate it together. She imagined it in the snow with a giant Christmas tree lighting up the giant marble entrance hall. She imagined it in the spring absolutely awash with daffodils all along the sweeping drive and all over the lawns and garden parks. Then, later the daff's would be replaced by a sea of bluebells. Then she imagined it all in the height of summer, emerald lawns with borders of golden and burned orange flowers flooding the ground around the great house. And her favourite season . . . autumn. For the first time, she realised, she could see the future and she wasn't afraid. She could see it all in her in her mind's eye, how the big trees in the park would shed their leaves and how the autumn skies would bring character - heavy, dark and gloomy Yorkshire rains interspersed with golden flood of autumn sunshine. And among it all she found that she could picture Russell smiling or busy or relaxing or calling out to her. Seasons would pass there - but Julie-Anne had blown her chances of being at his side to appreciate it all. . . . or had she?

She was weary from the giggling and dancing and energy she had poured into her day. She sighed and collapsed into bed, hardly having the strength to peel of the sugar pink play-suit before darkness wrapped around her and carried her away on a sea of dreams - all about Russell.

*

Julie-Anne got up late the next morning and was jokingly coy with Annie about the boys she'd met at the party. "Seriously though," she sobered her mood and turned to her mother, "how is Dad now d'you think?"

"Well he is still making very slow but very steady progress. The doctors yesterday said that he was out of the woods."

Spontaneously the three women hugged each other.

"I'm so glad Mum." Julie-Anne told her. "What time are we going to see him today?"

"In about half an hour if you hurry up and get some breakfast . . . well, brunch down you darling."

"Do you think he'll mind if I go home tomorrow?" Julie-Anne frowned and searched her mother's face as the woman laughed and said that she was sure now that her dad had seen his precious Julie-Anne in the flesh, he was bound to settle down and get on with is recovery just fine.

Annie made a little noise and quizzed "Decided to go back to that Russell you're so in love with have you?"

"Annie!" Julie-Anne reprimanded. But Annie had a serious expression on her face now. She took Julie-Anne's hand in one of hers and her sister's, Julie-Anne's mother's hand in the other. "Julie-Anne I know you've had a tough time what with Andrew and all . . . But have you looked at how your face changes when you mention Russell? I can even tell when you're just thinking about him. Go back to him girl, and do what you have to. Go and repair the damage before it really is too late."

Julie-Anne's frown deepened. Her aunt's face puzzled her. But she understood even less what this moment signified when her mother leaned over and whispered; "Oh Annie, my poor sister, my poor darling!"

"What is it?" Julie-Anne questioned.

Her mother and her aunt looked at her. They were close sisters and the love and closeness of their relationship was never more apparent than now, and they were pulling Julie-Anne into that special circle of family bond as well. Warmth flooded through her as she looked from one to anther of the women whose hands she held.

"Annie did just what you're doing my love," her mother began to explain, "She was so concerned about the long term commitment to the man she truly loved, and genuinely frightened about whether or not she had the depth of character to carry it through with him and marry him, that she fled here, to New Zealand, to get away from the anguish of it all."

"Why didn't you go back when you realised?" Julie-Anne focused on Annie.

"It took me sixth months to pluck up the courage to see that the faults were all mine, that he was a good man who loved me for real, who actually wanted to grow old and wrinkly with me!" Annie tilted her head and sighed a resigned sigh. "I know Andrew didn't really love you, not a passionate burning, unconditional love like you need from a man. To be frank Julie-Anne I'm not entirely sorry that he . . . well, you know!"

Julie-Anne was shocked at her aunt's confession about her feelings about Andrew's death.

"Anyway," Annie carried on, "I lost my man to another woman while I hesitated. Don't do the same thing, don't mess about, eh."

The three women spontaneously hugged each other again and then busied themselves with the trip to the hospital and nothing more was said about Annie's past experience.

*

At the hospital her father was sitting up in bed properly and he even gave Julie-Anne a tender, weak hug when she explained that she'd decided to go home if he wouldn't mind. "Aim high my little girl!" he told her, "Reach out and take what you want from life, god knows you've got more than enough pith and courage to give plenty back in return - just like your mother!"

"Well, if I'm flying home it's only on condition that you promise to get entirely better!" she told him. "I want to hear more about your mountain climbs and pole to pole treks and less about you pretending to be old and infirm in a hospital, understand?"

"Hah! I'll do my best," he laughed.

They bumped into Ben in the corridor on their way out. "I'm just going on a thirty minute break," he told her, hopefully. Julie-Anne asked her mother and aunt to go on without her, "I'll grab a cab, it's okay," she smiled.

"After last night I should think you could do with all the coffee you can get today?" she teased as they made their way to the canteen.

"Sorry!" Ben looked sheepish. "I don't usually pass out on first dates. I hope you're going to agree to let me make it up to you?"

"Well - that's what I wanted to explain . . . " Julie-Anne told him that she was going to go home and explained that she'd wanted to thank him for being so kind and friendly as to give her an opportunity to come out, have fun and rediscover things about herself. "You and your friends could have turned out to be real animals," she pointed out. "Instead you were charming and funny and very sweet to me, and I'm so grateful for that."

She saw the moment when Ben gave up any hope of persuading her to stay or to make anything more of their relationship. His shoulders flagged slightly but his smile brightened. "Any thing to please a posh English lady, eh!" he bowed in mock subservience.

"If we weren't half a world apart I think we'd have been really good friends." Julie-Anne stated.

"In a way I think we always will be friends from now on - even if we never hear from each other again!" Ben answered thoughtfully. "But that's what it's all about, unconditional friendship - isn't it?"

"You're right," she agreed, "and that's why I've got to go home. Unconditional friendship and unconditional love are different in only one way, love needs contact and nurturing to keep it alive."

"He's a lucky man!" Ben announced, pouting playfully at her. "It's a sure thing that he's a fool if he's not waiting for you to get home to him."

*

At the airport the next morning Julie-Anne was surprised to see Ben running to get to her before she disappeared into the departure lounge. In his hand he held out a bunch of bright pink flowers, "They're Tahitian Bougainvilliers!" he explained breathlessly. "My dad grows 'em to remind him of his ancestral home. It's just that . . . well . . . the colour reminded me of you and I wanted you to have them as a symbol of our friendship . . . you know!" His blush was almost as pink as the blooms he was holding out.

"Oh Ben!" Julie-Anne was taken aback, "They're so lovely. But I can't take them on the flight - it's not allowed!"

"I know!" Ben erupted into fits of laughter. "I realised on the way here - but I wanted to give 'em to you anyway."

The tears flowing down Julie-Anne's cheeks when she boarded the flight were as much from laughter at the sight of Ben, left standing in the airport clutching his bunch of bright pink flowers as they were of sadness at having said goodbye to her new friend and to her parents and aunt again. As she'd walked away Ben had started to strip the papery blooms from their stems and push them into his black curly hair in a clownish way designed to make her laugh.

Looking over her shoulder to wave at Ben and giggling at his antics, she'd gently urged "Remember this and smile when you have to deal with sad cases at work. Let our distant friendship be that."

"You too, posh English lady!" he'd bowed, "Give us a call if you're down this way again . . ." At that point she'd turned the corner and begun her long journey home.

*

The flights home dragged and dragged. The taxi ride to her cottage dragged and dragged. The darkness and damp un-lived in feeling of the old place was a real drag. But Julie-Anne was happy to be home. It was too late at night to start phoning round to try to track down Russell, so she settled for a long hot bath and some sleep. In the morning she'd do her damnedest to get everything worked out, for now it was comforting enough to be this much closer to Russell - this much closer to her one chance of winning him back and keeping him for good.

Chapter ten

In the cold light of a late January day Julie-Anne lay in her old bed, in her old cottage staring at the tree-tops through her window, almost afraid to get up and face what the day might bring.

What if Russell rejected her? What if she couldn't even find him - he could have gone anywhere whilst she'd been away. No! That was unlikely, she'd only been gone for about ten days in all, and he was most likely to be up in Yorkshire establishing his family seat. The firs step would be to go to Bramley Apple Lane and check to make sure that Russell wasn't still living there. But he'd said the deal on his mansion estate in Yorkshire had been finalised so if he wasn't still in the village she'd have to go up there and look for him. 'One step at a time, Julie-Anne' she told herself. 'I'd better start by getting some transport.'

She remembered a young couple who'd been seated at a table near hers at the New Year's Eve party, they were also involved in the pantomime that she'd painted some stage scenery for. They had been excitedly talking about their plans to sell up and go to live in America. They were expecting to leave at the end of January . . . she might just be lucky, they might be ready and willing to sell her their little car.

She dressed quickly in her old jeans and pink designer tee-shirt, then spent a long time staring in the mirror in her bedroom remembering all the times she'd had with Russell there since that day so long ago when she'd gone out in exactly the same outfit. 'Well, maybe it's my lucky "finding Russell" outfit.' she thought, hastily wiping hot tears from her cheeks and patting her broiling, yearning tummy. 'Gods, why do I have to feel so sick? It's no good being anxious - I've just got to get out there and find him. I've got to grab this opportunity and stop being so stupid.' In her mind's eye she could visualise Russell padding into her room behind her, as he had done so many times, and slipping his strong naked arms around her middle. If he were here he'd be pulling her back to lean against his as yet undressed chest muscles. She'd feel the steady beat of his heart and feel his breath, hot and arousing on the back of her neck. He'd take a firm hold of her petite hips and turn her around to kiss her good morning . . . 'This is a waste of time! Go and find him girl, and don't let yourself run away from that love ever again!'

The late January air was bitterly cold, colder than December by far. She was glad of the excuse to pull her duffle coat hood over her face as she rushed down through the village toward Russell's old home. She was right about one thing, when she got there it was clear that he didn't live there any more. The place was empty and dark. Looking through the leaded window panes she found it hard to believe how quickly all traces of him had been cleared away. Even as she turned to rush up the path and o to find out about a car, she felt that the gardens were a little more dead and lifeless than the last time shed walked through them. The big January freeze had caused the last few vestiges of the summer cottage garden to go black and brittle and to sink away into a horrid mass on the ground. She hurried away, not wanting to dwell on the cold lonely feeling of it all.

Next stop was a cosy little terrace of three red-brick cottages with splendidly tall, twisted and ornamented chimneys. She saw the lights on and was glad to be greeted by the young wife of the couple who were going off on their foreign adventures at the end of the following week. The girl, Marie, was glad to be able to get rid of her car so easily. She'd envisaged having to leave it in the hands of a local garage and hope that the money didn't take too long to come through if and when it was sold for her. So Julie-Anne's proposal to buy it immediately couldn't have suited her better. They signed the ownership documents over to Julie-Anne, Marie helped her with a phone call to the insurance company and finally the keys were handed over. Julie-Anne was mobile. Nothing to stop her travelling up to Yorkshire straight away.

"You'd better go home and pack a few things to take with you first!" Marie laughed. "I can see why you're eager to get going but I'd feel better if you'd just slow yourself down a little bit Julie-Anne."

"Yes, you're right. Thank you!" Julie-Anne agreed.

At home again, with the little blue car parked in her driveway, Julie-Anne forced herself to walk methodically through the cottage making sure everything was tidy and in good order. She went to her bedroom and pulled out her suitcases. Carefully rearranging some of the clothes she'd taken to New Zealand and exchanging some of those for warmer, more suitable outfits for a winter trip around England. Now there was nothing let but to get on and go. She glanced around - and went.

*

This time the journey north seemed flanked by cold grey-white skies and dismal blackened scenery. The fields were bare, devoid of the life that would bud and flourish in them in a few short weeks. The forests were dark, spooky looking places with blackened floors and skeletal, mean looking trees. The glimpses of rivers and pools of water that had seemed so enticing last time looked still and freezing, without their sparkle, promising nothing other than a chilling sting of merciless cold. Julie-Anne sped past it all, working hard at concentrating on her driving and at not driving too fast.

She'd decided that as good a starting place as any, for her search for Russell, would be that little hotel they'd stopped at before. He would not be there, but it would give her a base to work from and the familiarity of it seemed comforting. She did not stop in Harrogate this time but drove directly to her destination, praying that there would be a room for her. She was in luck. The receptionist remembered her, smiled warmly and gave her the key to the same room.

The little cream and red room with it's gothic style window seemed snug and cosy. She felt greeted by it, it felt as if she really was being given a second chance. She was back to the place where things had started to go wrong, now she could branch out from here and put things on the right track again.

Immediately after a hastily eaten breakfast, Julie-Anne got the hotel staff to provide her with the telephone numbers for the main local estate agents. It was not very long before, with a bit of internet searching alongside the receptionist, Hillary, who was being very sweet and understanding, Julie-Anne had managed to track down the location of a recently sold ten bedroom estate - just slightly north of where she was now staying.

The sky was a heavy, smoky white and the air was full of January mizzle which soaked her to the skin as she walked excitedly to her little car. She was wearing on of the neatly tailored suits she'd bought that day in Harrogate. The pencil skirt was cut to just above the knee and she felt the winter cold in her legs for a while until the little car warmed up. 'This is surreal!' she thought to herself as she drove along unfamiliar roads, impatient to reach her destination. Cautious of her lack of driving experience she kept her speed steady and tried to ignore the constant feeling of disorientation as unfamiliar landmarks were ticked off from her list of directions.

Finally she came to a pretty little white gate lodge that she'd seen in the internet pictures of the place. 'Ye gods!' she thought, I'd think he was doing all right if he'd just moved into that place. She sat for a while with the engine purring while she gazed at the cosy looking cottage. Eventually there was nothing for it but to release the hand brake and start to make her way up the drive. An avenue of young lime trees marked her way until the gravel deepened and she was in a circular turning area among the outbuildings of the property. She continued through an archway among the impressive Yorkshire stone built stable block and ultimately came to rest in a cobbled parking area alongside a black mini cooper.

With trembling knees, Julie-Anne stepped from her car and stared up at the giant, Georgian house. The west, north and south walls of the tall, tastefully symmetrical building were build of tactile Yorkshire stone which looked warm and elegant even on this grim January day. Walking around in search of the entrance she caught a glimpse of the east facing frontage which overlooked magnificent landscaped gardens. That wall was finished in a smooth render which was painted a soft terracotta-cum-peach colour and made the place look even more elegant and stylish.

Julie-Anne stopped at the big, double entrance doors and sucked in a big breath before pushing the bell. Almost instantly the door opened by a woman with dancing grey eyes and a pretty face. Julie-Anne found herself gawping anxiously at the neat little woman, she was in her mid fifties, dressed very smartly in a black suit with a pretty white blouse and sensible shoes.

"Yes?" The woman smiled.

"Erm, I'm Julie-Anne. Is Russell here?" she blurted awkwardly.

The woman glanced up at the sky before replying, "You'd better come in, I'll go and see if Mr. Bryson-Steinar is at home.

The woman stepped aside with an air of quiet courtesy allowing Julie-Anne to step in to a vast entrance hall.

"Please wait here." The woman told her, and walked demurely away into the house.

Julie-Anne stood looking at her surroundings. She tried to be matter of fact as she absorbed the beauty of the checkered limestone floor; teal blue walls; moulded cornices and cove and ornamental columns. The area was brightly lit, even on a day such as this, when daylight poured in through the high Georgian windows. To her right was a pretty stair case with delicately carved, white balusters holding up a richly polished mahogany hand rail. The stairs were carpeted in a salmon pink which was a soft reflection of the colour used on the outside of the house. The first rise went up to a short landing where the stairs turned alongside a graceful, high arched trio of windows. Looking up at the windows on the stairs Julie-Anne could see the tops of some trees but mostly the view was of the sky and the window fulfilled its purpose of letting in even more light.

'Let's have the party right here!' Julie-Anne thought, looking around. 'You could fit the whole of a modern home inside this entrance hall I reckon.' She looked at the acanthus leaves and swags carved into the marble surround of the fire place opposite the stairs, and then began to wonder what treasures lay beyond the doors that led off from this impressive first reception.

She jumped when movement brought her attention back to the stairs. Swinging around to look up she saw Russell standing in front of the high window looking down at her. His expression was not friendly. His eyes were dark and the lines around his mouth set in a grim, serious aspect. His impenetrable gaze and inscrutable countenance barred her from guessing his thoughts.

Moments later the neat little lady who had let Julie-Anne in returned through one of the doors. "Ah!" she said, "I was looking for you." Julie-Anne thought the woman looked gloomy about the fact that circumstances had prevented her from controlling whether or not Russell and she came into contact this morning.

"It's fine Della, thanks. This is Julie-Anne, we'll take coffee in the drawing room if you don't mind organising that?"

Della smiled as if she knew a secret. "I'll send the girl," she answered tartly and spun on her heals to go and arrange the coffee as requested.

Suddenly Julie-Anne felt very small and insecure. Watching Russell come down the remainder of the stairs she saw that he was every bit the country gentleman. He wore a fitted, single breasted semi-hacking jacket cut from a brown checked, Saxony cloth, sueded moleskin trousers in a light taupe shade and very highly polished black brogue shoes. His wide shoulders and strong legs were made all the more masculine by this mature and imposing style of dress. His blonde curls remained untamed and still haloed his head, his blue eyes, now that he stood in front of her, were still just as enticing when Julie-Anne looked up into them. There was no trace of the smile that usually played on the corner of his lips. She tried not to stare at his mouth, tried not to make a fool of herself by throwing herself at him - but it was hard.

"Come to see what you turned down Julie-Anne?" He asked her brusquely.

'Had I turned him down?' Julie-Anne wondered. She tried to think back to New Year's Eve. But all she could really remember was fear, darkness and loneliness associated with that night. 'I didn't accept his proposal - that's true. But was that it? The end of the line? What am I supposed to do now?' her thoughts raced and chased but she could not think what to say aloud. She stood there staring at Russell. Her skin had blanched at the shock of his cold greeting, her knees trembled and she felt nauseated by her own dumbness. But this time, she resolved, however panic stricken, however confused of concerned she felt - she was not going to run away again. 'In fact if he wants rid of me this time he's going to have to forcibly make me go, I'm not running away from him ever again.'

"I think we need to talk." She finally said.

He raised his eyebrows and sighed as if to tell her that she was being tedious. "Very well, Julie-Anne. Let's go and have coffee." He led her through the door, in to a huge, airy, light drawing room. Her heals clicked on the glossily polished, stripped wooden floor boards and she wondered whether it would have been polite to have slipped her shoes off before going further into this palatial house. The room had a double aspect, one row of giant Georgian windows looking out over formal lawns; the other row looked into the courtyard and stables area showing that the buildings were actually arranged in a Romanesque quadrangle. Light flooded in. The imposing fireplace had a wood and marble slip surround. There was a mahogany serving table, polished so well it almost glowed against tall, white walls. The room had an arched, semicircular recess that seemed to offer sanctuary from the very formal and spacious layout of regency chairs and two-seater's that were so formally organised in the vast space. Julie-Anne subconsciously noted a couple of big, impressionist paintings on the walls and drew in a tiny breath at their quality and beauty.

Mischievously she wanted to throw some of the cushions on the floor and relax. Instead she perched her petite frame on the edge of a Queen Anne style white wood arm chair with white upholstery, opposite Russell who had slumped down into a softer white damask armchair.

A girl burst through a door at the back of the room and juggled a tray of coffee while she arranged a small table in the space between them. Putting the coffee down carefully she half whispered, "Will there be anything else, sir?"

"No, thanks Patti. Go back and help Della will you. She's doing a new inventory in the Library before the contract cleaners come to see to the books and books cases in there."

Patti looked as if she would curtsey which brought a twisted smile of irony to Julie-Anne's mouth. It was awesome to see Russell behaving so dominantly and masterly with his staff. 'Mind, they're probably easier to control that a class room full of unruly teenagers,' she thought wistfully, remembering his recent past.

Russell leaned out of his chair to take his coffee and, settling back down among the plump cushions, said "Well?"

"It's a beautiful place." Julie-Anne cast her eyes around to indicate her appreciation of Russell's choice of country seat.

"Hmmn. It's going to be a full time occupation taking stock and getting it all properly under my management. But overall it seems quite suitable." Russell's cold response was obviously measured to let Julie-Anne know that he was not going to let down his guard. It would not be easy to get him to forgive her - if he ever would at all.

"I'm so sorry Russell," she blurted, emotionally. She looked across at him and wished with all her might that he would smile that radiant smile of his and hold open his arms for her to come back to him.

Instead he shifted testily in his chair and said, "What? Sorry that you turned me down when you realise that you could have had all this?" He raised his eyebrows challengingly and looked squarely into her face. "I'm not going to make an idiot of myself again Julie-Anne. I thought we were friends as well as lovers, I thought we had it all and I wanted you to become a part of all this with me. I loved you truly and honestly Julie-Anne." He got to his feet and strode over to one of the windows. Staring out over the formal gardens he said in a deep, sober voice "I allowed myself to become too vulnerable to you. In the mistaken belief that we had it all, I offered you protection, permanence, marriage . . . and you just bolted. Well, I can't live my life waiting for the next time you come over all melodramatic and run away. You had your chances - you blew it." He twisted and glared menacingly at her.

Julie-Anne could hardly breathe. She was so afraid and yet so determined not to rise to her instincts and run away from him. What could she say? Could she ask him outright to give her one more chance? His expression was thunderous and she felt that such a plea would only cause his anger to grow.

With a sense of indignance she straightened her back, squared her shoulders and replied, "What ever we had, Russell, it was not based on this kind of opulent wealth. Our relationship was honest and it was based on the humble surroundings and lowly day to day life were had at . . . at home in Surrey. Maybe it was the thought of having to live in a building that's so big you have to run you whole life as a business that frightened me? Maybe it was the coldness and formality of all this", she waved her arms to indicated the entire estate, "that I was running away from? Don't you see Russell? I was just going to become a convenience for you! Oh, how useful it was to find a frightened, widowed woman that could slip into this . . . this grandiose rise in you social status. How very convenient that I just happened to be clued up on fine arts and aesthetics!" With her temper rising, Julie-Anne stood up and swept around the room in a gesture designed to emphasise the grandeur of the place before turning on Russell to carry on. "You put me in a position where you were going to lift me away from the place I was born and brought up. You intended to tuck me in here and call on me just like you do Della and Patti, there at your beck and call but nothing more than a cog in your big wheel of good fortune." Her temper now in full flow she was shouting in a harsh, wild tone. "You weren't even going to tell me were you? You tried to keep all this a secret from me, pretending you were coming here for some other reason. I would have been trapped in this ice palace of yours before I'd woken up from the honeymoon wouldn't I? Your proposal wasn't based on you and me and the way we had learned that we truly loved one another! Your proposal was cold, it was a business arrangement set up to enhance your new life style - all planned behind my back; all planned to brush aside a truly loving relationship and replace it up here with - with - with nothing, that what with!" Her eyes were wide open and burning with fury, her face was white with rage and Julie-Anne's petite body trembled with shock at what she herself had just said.

For a long moment she and Russell stood, face to face, ingesting the points she had just made. 'Oh god, he's so handsome!' her betraying mind thought as she glared at his tall, lean figure silhouetted against the window. She could picture his shoulders and arms rippling with the tension, his legs, strong as oxen, holding him rooted to the spot would be iron hard and shapely. His firm belly and muscular back would be taught and straight under that costly jacket. There was an animal magnetism that made it so hard not to step forward and tear her way under his clothes. The heat of her thoughts flooded her face with a red glow, dispersing the pale languor that had rested her appearance moments before. As anger began to resolve into lust Julie-Anne fought to keep control of herself and stare him down.

Russell narrowed his eyes. He'd finished thinking and was ready to retaliate. "Is that how shallow you think I am?" He growled. "Then you don't know me at all do you?" He shifted himself to loom more menacingly toward her, over towering her slight figure with his own tall, masculine stance. "In fact, Julie-Anne, you know me so little and your opinion of me is so distorted that you even accused me of - I don't know what - with Grace. Of all people? I thought we knew each other so well, mind, body and soul, but then you came up with that ridiculous idea!"

Julie-Anne was beyond restraint, "You were all over each other - what else could I think?" she spat angrily. Her dark eyes challenging for a reasonable answer.

With viper quick movements Russell's hand shot out and grasped the back of her neck. Callously he pulled her forward and forced her to stand at the window in front of him. With his strong fingers digging into her shoulders he harshly grated, "Look at those tow new sculpture on the lawn there . . . recognise the artiste?"

Julie-Anne gasped. The wind knocked from her by his rough handling and by what she saw standing on the manicured lawns between the house and an endless view of the Yorkshire ridings that rolled away to a murky, grey horizon. White and smooth and beautiful in their design were two of Grace's finest pieces of work.

"It was meant to be a surprise!" Russell's bitterness was evidenced in the cold, quiet of his voice close to Julie-Anne's ear. She felt her long dark hair disturbed by his hot breath, her shoulders tingled where his grip had released. Her body yearned to lean back and melt together with his. She could not move. 'Oh - what ever have I done?' She felt terrified. 'It's all so wrong! I'm so wrong. I've just made such a mistake!' She couldn't turn to him, he was too close and she would not be able to control herself in the face of the rejection that she had so well and truly ensured by her stupid angry outburst.

Russell stepped back and retreated into the big room. "If I hurt you just now I'm sorry." He said softly. "But it's nothing to the depths of pain you have caused me Julie-Anne, I can promise you that. "I thought we loved each other truly, turns out we don't know one another at all."

Julie-Anne turned into the room to plead with him. "Yes we do Russell, my problem isn't that I don't know you or love you . . . " but it was too late.

The room was empty.

Russell had gone.

"It was just me, I was wrong!" her words hung in the air.

'This time', her thoughts were clear, 'there's going to be no running off, sobbing like a twelve year old. I'm not going to give up until I've proven to Russell that I know I was wrong, badly behaved and stupid. I need to get him to let me back into his life.'

One of the doors opened and Della stepped into the room. She regarded Julie-Anne with an expression that was half disapproving and half maternalistic empathy.

"Finished with the coffee?" she asked calmly.

Julie-Anne looked at her cautiously. "Er, yes. I think my meeting with Russell is finished - for today."

Della bustled in to put the coffee cups on their tray and tidy the table back to its proper place. "Had a bit of a falling out have we?" she asked. Her voice was sweet, not patronising. 'I might have an ally here.' Julie-Anne thought.

Chapter eleven

"Come with me." Della said patiently.

Julie-Anne followed her from the drawing room, across the entrance hall, through a butler's pantry where the coffee tray was deposited and on into a dream kitchen. The floor was blue slate, many of the mundane appliances were hidden away in a useful armoire and they sat at the table with a slate topped work surface behind them, looking out through a venetian window at the court yard. Either end of the kitchen were arched fire places, giving a homely feel to an obviously efficient and modern set-up. Julie-Anne calculated that the room must have been as good as 18 feet square and the ceiling was unusually high, giving the same sense of opulence and spaciousness that the rest of the house seemed to offer.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Della asked.

Julie-Anne hesitated.

"It's all right, you can trust me. I've got no reason on earth to betray you - but I might be able to help."

"How did you know we'd had a fight?" It was a naive question that put a broad smile on Della's lips as she answered.

"Dear girl! For one thing you two have just been yelling at each other at the tops of your voices - we're not deaf around here you know! For another thing, Russell has been mooching around like a kicked dog since he moved in. It has been obvious he's been missing his partner - we've all speculated over it. I'd hoped someone might show up. From what I've seen so-far I think I'm rather glad it's you."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Well . . . there were the two arty types who came to install his new garden ornaments." Della's sat with an ironic expression of judgmental humour etched into her face and quirky grin turning up the corner of her mouth.

"You mean Freddy and Grace?"

"That's them."

"Awgh! Freddy's a bit of a handful, but Grace is okay - I think."

"Oh I wouldn't have wanted to have to put up with them swanning around all over the place." Della opined, "No! That wouldn't do at all. Good friends of yours are they?"

Julie-Anne let out a little self-conscious laugh. "We were friends at university. But last time we were together I think we all realised we'd grown out of that relationship somewhat - or at least, some of us had."

"University?" Della looked interested. "What did you study?"

Julie-Anne spent the next hour comfortably resting by the kitchen table talking to Della about fine arts and her time at university. This inevitably led to her explaining all about Andrew and their relationship. And that in turn led her to describe how Russell had come along and what terrible mistakes she'd made in her handling of their time together.

Whilst she was talking Patti came in and dutifully made fresh coffee for them. She reported to Della that the books from the book case they'd been working through were all now catalogued and that this was the last batch.

"Very well, good girl!" Della thanked her. "Now go and make sure that you've finished all the upstairs cleaning for today. Do make sure you do the spare bedrooms properly this time! Oh - and don't disturb Mr. Bryson-Steinar, he'll be feeling a bit sensitive just now and it wouldn't do to risk getting on his nerves. Okay?"

Patti nodded and went off to do her work while the tow women carried on with their talking.

When Julie-Anne had finished talking Della thought for a moment and then put her head on one side and said, "Do you know anything about tapestries?"

"Well, I did some comparative studies of fifteenth century tapestry restoration whilst I was doing my Masters degree, so I guess I know a little. I"d say I could give a fair appraisal and then advise on more suitable experts for a second opinion if someone wanted me to."

"Good." Della pushed herself up from her chair. "Come back tomorrow morning about ten o'clock will you. There are two big tapestries stored down in the basements. They've been there for a very long time, they certainly haven't been used in this house since the modern decor and paint finishes were applied. But I think they might be of interest to Russell and I want to discuss them with him. First though, I would like you to tell me all about them so that I can go to him armed with knowledge and information."

Julie-Anne followed Della's lead and stood up, realising that she was about to be invited to leave for the rest of the day. "All right, I'll come back tomorrow," she agreed.

"Good!" Della stated. "And if you happen to bump into our Mr. Bryson-Steinar during your visits - well, then we'll just have to see what conversations you can engineer along the way won't we? I do think that all you two need is time and patience to work things out between you. It'd be better if he knew you were around a little bit. We'll make sure he knows you're not stalking him or anything silly like that. Okay?"

Julie-Anne grinned. "Thank you Della, I really appreciate it."

"Oh, make no bones about it my girl," Della winked, "I most certainly am using you for my own convenience. It really couldn't have been more fortuitous what with your degree education in arts and the-like." She clapped her hands as if dismissing an errant child. "Now, be off with you until tomorrow. I've got work to do . . . and that wretched Patti to mind over too." She was bustling out of the kitchen, leaving Julie-Anne to find her own way out through the butler's pantry and out of a rear exit door that led off from what appeared to be a behind-stairs or servant's passage.

The afternoon got darker and duller, but Julie-Anne was warmed by her own inner glow. For the remainder of the day she felt excited about going back to see Della's tapestries and even more so about the possibilities of meeting with Russell again.

Back in her cosy hotel room she took a long hot bubble bath and then lazed away the long evening watching mindless TV. She went to sleep infused with hope.

*

"The weather's changed for the better, I think!" Hillary, the receptionist, greeted Julie-Anne with a bright smile and a toss of her head to indicate the crisp sunshine outside.

Outside the hotel Julie-Anne paused to watch a group of game keepers load their excited spaniels into the back of a truck along with their riffles and some boxes. They were ready for the day and talked quietly among themselves about what they were expecting to do. The cold sunshine was glinting off a mist that hung low in the dells and dips where a river ran past the property. Next to the hotel was a castle, Julie-Anne promised herself she'd make time to visit it while she was staying there.

*

She could not make herself pay much attention to the scenery as she drove out to Russell's place. She simply ticked off the landmarks from her route planner to ensure that she was going the right way as before.

Somehow the white gatehouse seemed less mysterious as she pulled past it to commence her drive down the lime tree avenue to the main house. She did wonder who lived there - Della perhaps?

Her arrival seemed timely as Della was at the door waiting for her when she stepped up.

"Hello there!" Della greeted her cheerfully."

"Good Morning!" Julie-Anne smiled brightly. She was really looking forward to seeing the tapestries. Her heart also lurched at the thought that she might bump into Russell.

"Come on then," Della led the way through the house to the basement, "Let's see what we've got."

While Della carefully pulled the two six foot by eight foot tapestries from their storage place at the entrance to a passage or tunnel that seemed to lead out of the basement toward the garden area, Julie-Anne talked in general terms about what she expected to see. "As a general rule fifteenth century tapestries were designed to illustrate a story," she chattered, "more often than not they depicted scenes from everyday life such as wool-working or grape-gathering, which can be really interesting."

"Oh?" Della was interested. "From what I've seen these are really pretty - lots of flowers and things in them. Here, we can spread them on the floor, would that be okay?"

"Yes, that'll do to start with." Julie-Anne agreed, eagerly. She carried on talking, explaining the patterns Della had noticed, "These tapestries are decorated with what t hey call 'mille-fleurs'. That means 'thousand flowers'. It's a background that I think originates from the Loire Valley region of France. Oh yes, they're lovely" Julie-Anne touched the delicate fabrics with care and admiration, "This style was once very much in vogue. The idea of using the flowers all over the background was inspired by the custom of strewing cut flowers on fete days in Medieval times."

"My goodness, yes! How lovely! What marvellous things they are! Have you seen many like these?" Della looked positively thrilled as they gazed on the fine needle works.

"Yes, I went on a trip to France as part of my university research. I saw what might perhaps be some of the finest examples. My favourites were 'The Lady with the Unicorn' tapestries in Paris, woven around the fourteen-nineties. I love the romance and chivalry depicted by these things don't you?"

Della smiled wistfully at her. "I'm afraid those times of romance are long gone!" she opined. "Now, what sort of value are we looking at here? And more to the point, what about displaying them? I don't see the point in keeping these lovely things down here. I'm sure they ought to be out on display."

"Well, we'd have to get them authenticated. But I would expect the insurance to be between ten and fifteen thousand each." Julie-Anne suggested.

"Della!" Russell's voice snapped from the background, making them both jump. He appeared in the doorway and leaned his tall body against the frame. "I thought you were being a bit coy this morning, when you said you'd chanced on an expert who could help you with something down here!" He grumbled. "You can go now and leave us for a while - go and organise some coffee. You and I shall have words later." Although he was talking in a serious, deep tone, the women sensed that Russell was not going to treat Della unfairly. She suppressed a smile as she nodded to him and walked silently past him to go back up to the kitchens.

"Well," he turned his eyes on Julie-Anne, "what do you think you're doing here?"

'I mustn't gabble. I must stay calm!' Julie-Anne coached herself. "Della asked me to come back and look at these, they're lovely aren't they?" she indicated the tapestries. "Look," she swallowed hard and carried on in what she hoped was a matter of fact voice, "this one depicts wine making. Look at the people and the colours. It's exquisite. A really good example of its type."

Russell cast a quick glance at the tapestry but snapped his attention back to Julie-Anne as if he wasn't prepared to let her out of his sight. "Hang them up somewhere then, shall we?" he spoke as if he couldn't care less about the fine works of art, watching Julie-Anne for her reaction.

"If you have somewhere that maintains a constant temperature and isn't too bright," she said, carefully. "Direct sunlight would fade them terribly," she added. Finally having the courage to return his stare. In the coolness and low light of the basement he looked very serious. She wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake in coming back.

Russell stepped forward and placed himself behind Julie-Anne to look at the tapestries over her shoulder. "I was thinking they'd look good in the master bedroom." His voice was a low rumble that shivered down her spine.

"Oh?"

"Julie-Anne, why are you here?"

"Della asked me to come and look at these."

"And why did you say yes?"

The artificial light seemed to have dimmed even further and Julie-Anne began to feel desperately claustrophobic standing between Russell and the tapestries. 'Keep calm girl - don't bolt, keep talking to him . . .' she thought. "Because I wanted to see these . . . and you." She breathed in deeply to calm herself and turned slightly to look up into his face.

A wry smile lifted one corner of Russell's mouth. He looked like a creature playing cruelly with its prey. He had it in his power to utterly destroy Julie-Anne with just a few words, and they both knew it.

She managed to keep her brown eyed stare steady. His crystal blue eyes were dark with a sardonic expression that slightly frightened her. When he lifted his hand to move a stray strand of hair from her cheek she jumped but kept her ground.

"What do I have to do?" she whispered, "How do I show you that I know it was me that was wrong? That I know my fears were misplaced, stupid, damaging?"

. . . His face was very close to hers. She could feel the tension between them but she could not discern how much of it was their desire for one another and how much of it was his anger with her. She stared at his powerful jaw line and eminently kissable mouth.

"Why should I set myself up for another fall Julie-Anne? Why should I let you back into my life just to have you turn me down again?"

"Why did you ever come into my life in the first place? You invited yourself you know!" she was suddenly indignant, defensive. They kept their close proximity, the temptation to touch each other, the tension between them. It was as if an electric spark, ever changing, extending, shifting, crackling but burning bright, played between their bodies and minds as they stood there.

Russell's eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly as she'd turned the question on him. "I fell in love with you the moment I saw you," he answered firmly. "I stood there in the rain and looked at you framed in that window, framed by your heartbreak, alone and lost. And I knew then that I loved you. I had to come to you Julie-Anne."

She searched his face for any signs that he loved her still. His countenance was guarded, his feelings kept masked.

"Then shouldn't you take me warts and all?" her voice was gentle but her question was a demand. "If I get frightened or confused, shouldn't you be strong enough to combat my fears and guide me back to safety?"

"How can I Julie-Anne? How can I be strong for you if you run away from me when I'm trying to bind you into the protection of marriage? I said before, I am not going to spend my life chasing after you all the time."

Julie-Anne knew he was right. She knew that if she was to repair the damage she would have to trust herself to him lock, stock and barrel. However unsure of herself, of their relationship, of his love for her - she must learn to know that he did love her - truly. "The only way I can prove to you that I won't take flight again is to get you to take me back," she uttered, simply.

Suddenly, coldly, Russell looked at his watch. "I've got a meeting to get to," he announced. "I'll think about what you've said. Della will see that you get a cup of coffee before you go." To her astonishment he turned on his heel and strode off, disappearing through the doorway. She listened to his footstep going away from her as he climbed the stairs. Then she was left in silence.

After a few empty moments she remembered the tapestries, lying on the floor at her feet. 'Della mustn't leave those there.' she thought. 'I'd better go and ask her to roll and wrap them again.'

"Well, at least you two managed to communicate without raised voices!" Della observed with a twinkle in her gentle grey eyes, as they sat sipping coffee in the fabulous kitchen.

"Doesn't seem to have got me very far though does it?" Julie-Anne responded with a heavy sigh.

"Give it time child." Della answered.

"Time heals all wounds!" Russell's voice interrupted them. This time he was propped against the kitchen door frame.

'Oh lord, how long has he been listening?' Julie-Anne was startled. "That was a very quick meeting." she snapped impatiently at him. Up in the bright daylight of the kitchen she noticed how stylish his dark grey suit looked - had he put the jacket on before or after she'd seen him downstairs? Such idle thoughts side tracked her panicking mind.

"My people are here. I just came to rustle up some drinks for us and make sure lunch is still okay for one o'clock?" he looked to Della for an answer, perhaps he hadn't really heard their conversation then.

Della stood up, folding away the paper containing addresses Julie-Anne had given her. They were people who could verify the age and authenticity of the tapestries before Della could see to insuring and hanging them. Giving Julie-Anne no more than a cursory glance the older woman said, "I'll go and ring the caterers, I'm sure there won't be any problem. But since you've asked, I'll double check."

Once again Russell and Julie-Anne had been left alone together. He looked amused about something as his eyes drifted over her petite form, seeming to coldly scrutinising her appearance. "As I can't seem to get rid of you - how about you come and join us in the West gallery, over the court yard?" he suggested.

Detecting an undertone Julie-Anne responded, "Were you listening to my conversation with Della?"

He frowned. "I don't have time for teenage games Julie-Anne. Time will heel everything - remember, that's what they said about you in the village? It seems the same applies now. But I've no intention of responding to childish conspiring, or whispered collaborations between you silly women! Now, are you coming to this meeting or not?"

Julie-Anne felt embarrassed. Is that how he saw her? A silly girl whispering about how to get her boyfriend back! "What is the meeting about?" she managed to choke out.

"It's right up your street. We're talking about using the space as an art gallery - it's ideal, and I want to investigate the possibilities. If you want to come follow me."

Without another word she stood up and followed him out through the kitchen door and across the yard to the steps that led up to the West Gallery.

It was an impossibly large space. "It's eighty-one feet long and some eighteen feet wide." he explained to her as they climbed toward it. When he opened the door and she looked in Julie-Anne gasped with delight. Then her heart sunk with shame as he added, quietly, for her ears only, "This space is one of the reasons I wanted to buy this place - it seemed to me that you could really do something up here. Show your own stuff and bring in works that you thought were worthy of a gallery of your own."

"Oh Russell!" she breathed, looking earnestly up into his eyes. "I'm such a fool."

But before she could go any further her heart was given another jolt as the overloud voice of Freddy cut through the air from the far end of the gallery. "There you are - you naughty girl!" Freddy laughed harshly.

Julie-Anne's eyes darted wildly from Russell to Freddy and back, 'This is awful!' she thought, 'Not Freddy - anything but Freddy.' She smiled weakly as Freddy swept along the gallery towards them, her multicoloured patchwork dress-coat flowing and billowing behind her in a typical Freddy overstatement.

"Freddy! And where's Grace?" The question was out before Julie-Anne had really thought through the repercussions. She didn't want Russell to think she was preoccupied by some false jealousy regarding poor, timid little Grace. She'd accepted that her suspicions about what went on between Russell and Grace were wholly unfounded and very silly. She glanced up to him and grinned, hoping he could see her thoughts.

"Oh Grace is lucky enough to be very busy down in London - our own gallery is already beginning to cause a stir don't y'know!" Freddy announced. "She gets to stay in civilisation while poor old moi has to gad about out here in the sticks, among you country bumpkins!" Arriving at Julie-Anne's side Freddy threw her arms around her and air-kissed either side of her cheeks. "You're so little and skinny darling!" Freddy was drawling, "Do you ever eat? Why you're positively melting away. Russell! You're not looking after her now, are you?"

"She's quite capable of looking after herself!" Russell snapped impatiently. Looking irritated he stepped away from Freddy, moving along the gallery, inspecting the walls and looking around as if to imagine how the place could look.

Part way down the room Russell stopped to look out of one of the windows that looked over the court yard. "Ah!" he announced, "Here comes everybody else."

For the first time Julie-Anne noticed a long table in the middle of the gallery. It was laid with a white cloth and set for ten diners. Freddy took her hand and followed her as she walked over to look at the fine bone china settings. "How are thing between you two?" Freddy whispered hoarsely. Even when she was whispering her voice was too loud. "I hear things are a bit strained these days?"

Julie-Anne flashed her a warning look. "You could say that." she admitted, unwilling to discuss the matter any further.

Freddy squeezed her hand. "Poor darling! No wonder you're fading away. Don't worry, if ever I saw two people who were meant for each other it was you two - it'll work out, you see!" Satisfied, as if she'd somehow solved all their problems, Freddy let go of Julie-Anne's hand and swept away to greet the people who were filing in through the door.

In the wake of the other visitors came caterers. They busied themselves putting out terrines of fresh, hot food. Patti came up too. She was dressed in a black skirt, white blouse and white apron and she joined in with two other little waitresses in serving the food when the visitors had found their places and sat down.

Russell sat in the carver at the head of the table. Julie-Anne deliberately took a seat three places away from him, not wanting to look as if she was laying any claim. Freddy sat dutifully next to her. In a way she was relieved to have Freddy there, at least good old Freddy could be relied upon to talk, a lot, and carry the conversation. Russell frowned briefly at her and then leaned to the woman at his side and began what looked like an interesting conversation over their soup dishes.

As dinner progressed Julie-Anne learned that there was an architect who specialised in restoring listed buildings, a group of four local business men who were showing an interest in sponsoring some showings during the year, the woman next to Russell was from the local tourist board and farthest away from Julie-Anne sat a local artist who was keen to develop regular exhibitions of his own.

Throughout the meal everybody chattered casually about the possibilities that the West Gallery had to offer.

After dinner Russell made a formal speech, thanking everybody for coming. "I believe I may have a partner to help to manage and organise regular events here." he told them without looking at Julie-Anne. "And, from what everybody has said today, I think that with the support of the local tourist board and, of course, our own promotions through the web site I'm planning to design, we have every probability of setting up a very successful art gallery."

Everybody looked very pleased. "Well done darling. Very good!" Freddy cheered, clapping her hands with glee. "Isn't it exciting, setting up your own little exhibition space like this!"

Julie-Anne leaned toward Freddy and tried to be discreet, "Are you and Grace going to help manage the place?" she asked quietly.

"Good gracious no!" Freddy almost shouted her answer, laughing. "That's your job you funny, silly girl!" She clapped her hand on Julie-Anne's shoulder, almost knocking her over. "You are an odd little thing!" she declared, kissing Julie-Anne on the cheek. "And aren't you going to have so much fun!" she carried on, spreading her arms in a sweeping gesture around the long, spacious gallery. "We'll be able to phone each other and swap ideas and information - from one end of the country to the other, eh?"

Julie-Anne nodded dumbly. She was not sure what her future held but Freddy seemed so certain.

Russell was by the door shaking hands and talking to people as they began to leave. Julie-Anne could see the business men standing in a group around him, nodding positively and looking pleased. It looked as if they were certainly going to support the venture. It occurred to her as she watched them leave, that what ever happened at least Russell had the finances to back the project. There need never be an embarrassing time if customers got thin on the ground or exhibitions failed for nay reason. 'Clever Russell' she thought. 'Your real investment here is strength and protection isn't it.'

"Penny for them?" Russell approached rapidly, looking very pleased with himself.

"I think it's all quite wonderful." Julie-Anne answered honestly. "I can see that his space will be ideal for all sorts of exhibitions."

"Well, if you're interested, I could get my solicitor to draw you up a contract. You could manage the place for me on a commission basis I thought." His look was matter of fact, he scanned her face for her response.

Julie-Anne was taken aback. She hadn't been expecting this. It was at once exciting and strangely formal. Surely the relationship between them should have meant that she didn't need to be engaged on any kind of contract? On reflection she sadly realised that this was no longer true, she had no relationship with Russell to speak of. 'Well it's not a wedding license, but at least it would forge some kind of ongoing relationship between us.' she decided.

"Okay Russell. I'll leave it to you. I"m sure your solicitor has some kind of standard contract for this kind of business, I'll look through the details when he's drawn it up and we'll come to terms."

This seemed to satisfy Russell and he turned away to say goodbye to the woman from the tourist board. She had a broad, friendly face. On her way out she winked at Julie-Anne, making her stomach flip. 'Good grief! does everybody know or guess about the relationship between Russell and me?' Julie-Anne wondered.

Chapter twelve

After everyone had gone, including Freddy who insisted that she'd rather drive for hours to get home to 'civilisation' in London than sleep out here 'in the sticks', Julie-Anne followed Russell back to the main house.

"Come and have a coffee in the Library before you go back to your hotel?" he asked her.

His tone seemed friendly now and she was in no hurry to get back to the solitude of her hotel room just yet. "Okay. I'd like to see this library of yours!" she responded.

Patti, still dressed in her waitress' outfit, brought them coffee. They settled in two lovely, leather wing backed chars and Julie-Anne looked around.

'There must be several thousand books in here!' she calculated. She knew that books were Russell's passion and she felt pleased for him that he had obtained such a beautiful library for himself.

"I'm getting specialists in to see to t he cleaning and, if necessary, restoration in here." he was telling her.

She looked at him as he talked about some of the books he'd come across on the shelves. He was vibrant and excited about being able to handle and enjoy these precious tombs - just as she was when she got the chance to handle fine works of creative art. She longed to reach out to hi m, to hold him and really share his joy. She wondered if he was secretly feeling the same way towards her.

"I hope Della put those tapestries away safely." She said after a while.

"She's a sensible woman, I"m quite sure she did." he answered.

"Don't you think they should be installed in the West Gallery?" she asked.

"No Julie-Anne, I don't."

"Oh?" something was making her heart flutter, she was finding it difficult to control her breath.

"No." He looked directly at her. "I have known about them since I first came to view the place. When I learned about you I just knew you'd love them. So I've always planned to hang them in the master bedroom, as I said. My thought was that you'd see them every morning and start every day with a big smile on your face! I don't see any reason why I should change that plan."

She stared at him. What did he mean? Working hard not to jump to inappropriate conclusions she said, "Do you want me to look the room over and make sure it's suitable for them? They are very sensitive to conditions, they must be hung in an appropriate place." she offered, whilst thinking 'Stop Julie-Anne - your gabbling!'

"Not today." he answered without a moment's hesitation. "I've got some phone calls to make and some paper work to look over this afternoon. I'll give you a call in a day or two, eh?"

Julie-Anne had been holding her breath. She breathed out, long and slow. 'Take this step-by-step. Don't expect him to rush things.' she coached herself. Smiling sweetly she nodded, "Yes, that sounds like a good idea. I suppose I must be going now anyway."

She managed to put her cup and saucer on the tray without trembling too much, and was glad that Russell let find her own way out to her car. She didn't think she could say goodbye to him without wanting to fall into his familiar arms and kiss him.

*

It was a bout ten o'clock that night, when she'd just snuggled into her bed with a slushy novel and hoes for sweet dreams of Russell, that the telephone rang. 'If that's you Dad . . . !' she thought, irritated. But it was not her father's voice on the other end of the line it was Della's.

"Julie-Anne!" Della sounded out of breath and anxious. "I think you'd better come over to the house - can you get here? Something awful's happened."

"What's the matter Della?" she felt sick and dizzy, what could this possibly be? Then Della said the worst thing Julie-Anne could ever hear,

"There's been a motor accident - Russell's been hurt!"

Julie-Anne let out a scream before she could control herself. She began shaking violently. "No!" she cried, "Not again! Not Russell!"

"Don't drive - get a taxi, but come . . . please." Della sounded awful and obviously wanted Julie-Anne with her.

Somehow Julie-Anne managed to phone for a taxi and get some clothes on before it arrived. She could feel no emotions and her imagination refused to forecast what harm might have been done to Russell. The last time she'd had a phone call like this it was Andrew and he'd passed away before she even got to the hospital - she couldn't allow herself to believe that the same was going to happen again now.

The taxi ride to the house seemed to take an eternity and Julie-Anne had no thoughts or memory of the journey at all when she got out of the car and paid the driver.

Her legs were quaking so violently she could hardly walk to the front door, but Della was t here in a pool of electric light, in the doorway. She threw her arms around Julie-Anne and hugged her tightly. "I'm so sorry to worry you like this - but I thought you should be here." Della explained. "They won't tell me anything from the hospital apart from that he's resting comfortably at the moment. They won't say what damage has been done or anything. I wasn't sure what to do, so I thought I'd call you and get you over here. Very early in the morning we'll go together to the hospital and see what news we can find out."

The two women supported each other into the kitchen and sat at the table watching their coffee go cold. Neither of them could drink anything. They waited until five o'clock, the night was long and cold without much to talk about. They held each other's hands from time to time but mostly the waiting was just empty time and space that seemed to take for ever to drift past.

At five o'clock Della said "I think we could go over to the hospital now. So they got into Della's mini cooper and she drove them. Again Julie-Anne was too numbed to take any notice of the journey. It was dark and very cold, the hospital looked like a pool of golden light when they finally arrived.

*

A sweet little nurse with blonde hair tucked up under her cap and a crisp white apron over her pale blue dress, smiled cheekily at Julie-Anne and Della when they explained why they'd come.

"Actually," the little nurse said in a chirrupy voice, "he's in a private room. I've just come from there and he is awake. It's against all the rules but you look so worried I don't think it'll hurt to let you pop in and say a quick good morning."

Julie-Anne could have hugged the girl. "Thank you so much," she said, "you don't know how much this means to us."

"It must be only for a few moments though - then you'll have to go get a coffee or something until proper visiting time at nine. Okay?"

"Thank you." Julie-Anne agreed, "I promise we won't get you into trouble."

The nurse winked at her and led them down the passage to Russell's room.

Cautiously they cracked the door open and Julie-Anne peered in past the little nurse. Russell was there, sitting up. His face was badly bruised around the forehead and he had one black eye. His right arm was bound up in a sling and his shoulder looked badly bruised too.

He looked at the nurse and said, "Can I go home yet?"

"No, you can't!" The little nurse said in a hushed tone. "But I've brought some visitors to pop in and say 'good morning' to you." She stepped aside to let Della and Julie-Anne go into the room.

"Hello you two!" Russell said sheepishly, "This is a bit of a nuisance isn't it."

"Well - we could have done without it!" Della agreed, moving to stand by his side. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, you know, like I've driven my car into the back end of a truck!" he replied recognising the irony.

"Is that what happened?" Julie-Anne gasped, staring at him.

He lifted his eyes to look at her. With his good hand he beckoned her to come closer, "Julie-Anne, I'm so sorry. When you heard about this it must have been devastating for you," he said, sensitively.

Julie-Anne couldn't hold back the tears. "You idiot!" She hissed, smiling through her anger, "What ever made you go and do a stupid thing like this?"

"Actually," he said caustically, "I was in too much of a hurry to get to the solicitors' office. I thought I'd at least got some kind of contract that would bind you to me - even if it isn't a marriage contract! So I wasn't paying proper attention to the road. Stupid wasn't I?"

"Oh Russell, I'd had exactly the same thought, about the contract I mean." she breathed.

"Well, stop crying will you - I"m fine, and you're fine. So no need for tears!"

At that moment the nurse came back and said "I shall have to chase you ladies out now. Please do come back at nine o'clock won't you."

Della reached out and squeezed Russell's good hand. "I'm so glad you're all right." she told him, "You're going to be such a good boss to work for - I didn't want to have to start all over again!"

"No." he agreed, looking tired. "Sorry to be such a nuisance."

"Oh stop it - you'll get no sympathy from me by keeping on apologising you know!" Della smiled brightly at him and started to leave the room.

He turned his attention to Julie-Anne again. "See you in a little while then." he said.

"Hmmn!" she mumbled, still sobbing from the tears of relief.

Della took her elbow and guided her out from the room.

*

When they reached the hospital canteen Julie-Anne was reminded of the few days she'd spent in New Zealand. She occupied their time by talking about it, over hot strong tea at Della's insistence. "Too much coffee at a time like this isn't a good idea!" Della had instructed.

She was right, the tea was strong and crisp, helping Julie-Anne to get over the shock of the last few hours. As she recovered her demeanour she talked more animatedly about Ben, the nurse in New Zealand and their pact to remain friends come-what-may.

"Well," Della shifted in her seat, "I think you'll be inviting him over for your wedding in the not too distant future!"

"Della! How can you think of such things at a time like this?" Julie-Anne admonished.

"Why not?" Della insisted, "I'm willing to bet that you two are thinking about it. There's nothing like a near fatal accident to make people stop wasting their time and get on with life and love, is there?"

Julie-Anne managed a half smile. She hoped that Della was right. She hoped that this event, awful as it was, would be the trigger that caused Russell to take her back into his life.

*

When they went back to Russell's room at none o'clock he was still sitting up in bed, looking somewhat disgruntled.

"They're going to make me stay here until tomorrow morning!" He announced grumpily. "I was unconscious when they brought me in last night and they want to make sure there's no hidden damage, concussion or anything like that."

"Cheer up." Offered Della, "Could be worse!" She made a lopsided grin.

"I could come and collect you - take you out to the house if you like." Julie-Anne suggested.

"Would you? That'd be good." Russell accepted. "I'm so sor -"

Della interrupted him, "If you apologise to us once more I'll black your other eye to give you a matching pair!" she announced.

Russell winced. He opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and just shrugged. The shrug obviously hurt his shoulder and he yelped.

"Oh, dear!" Della said without an ounce of sympathy. "You shouldn't do that, I shall be needing you to sign some papers later on and you don't want to go aggravating that arm in the mean time if you don't mind."

Julie-Anne looked from one to the other. "I can see who's going to be the real 'boss' in this relationship!" she declared. "Russell would you like me to bring you anything or come back and visit later on today?" she asked.

He considered for a moment before deciding "No, thanks. I think I'd better just rest up for the day. I'll see you again in the morning."

"Well, Della's got to drive home and we've both been up all night worrying about you. So I think it would be wise if we all got some rest for the rest of the day." She concluded. She could see Russell's energy beginning to waiver and Della had dark circles under her eyes.

"For goodness sake drive carefully!" she told the woman after she'd been dropped off at her hotel.

Della just gave her a tired smile and made her way back to the house. Julie-Anne had discovered she'd been right, Della did live in the white gate house, and that was quite far enough for a weary woman to have to travel after the night they'd had.

*

Julie-Anne couldn't think of sleeping just yet. She showered and changed and decided to go and look at the castle next door.

Apparently the same family had lived in the castle for hundreds of years. They still had private quarters there now, but they also let the public wander around and look at the art and furnishings from days gone by. Julie-Anne bought a ticket from the gift shop and made her way in through the entrance hall.

The place was a wonderful mix of tromp l'oiel and ancient family possessions. Julie-Anne found herself drawn to a large nineteenth century portrait of a winsome lady. She stepped past the Doric colonnade in the entrance hall, into an oval inner hall with a secret servants door on one side and stared at the portrait which was taking up most of the wall on the other. The lady was said to have lost both her children to meningitis, although one little blonde haired boy was shown playing at her heels in the portrait. It was also said that the lady was so broken at the loss of her children that she'd never stopped looking for them and that her ghost walked the castle to this day.

Julie-Anne looked cynically at the porcelain coloured face of the sad woman. 'You must have loved your babies very much indeed,' she thought quietly. 'How sad that we all have to bear such losses in our lives. I'm so grateful that Russell's going to be okay.' The face in the painting carried on staring into middle distance above Julie-Anne's head. 'She looks as if she knew she was in for a life of heartbreak and sorrow.' Julie-Anne decided. Thoughtfully she returned to the two Kentian mirrors on either side of the neo-classical fireplace in the large drawing room and looked hard into her own tow brown eyes. Her face was vibrant, if tired. There was nothing in her eyes to suggest that she was a woman set up to spend her life in abject misery. Having had her fill of the portraits and furnishings she made her was out towards the front door. This time she paused at the foot of the stairs to look up at the tall arched window which lit the intermediate landing over the turn half way up the stairs. The frame of the window was exactly the same design as that on Russell's stair case. It afforded the same flood of light into what could otherwise be a very dark corner. 'Must be a Yorkshire thing!' she mused, idly.

Yawning she wandered back to her hotel room to sleep and recuperate until it was time to go and get Russell the following morning.

When she awoke at first light she felt better than she had done for months. Her sleep had been deep and deeply restful. This morning she was excited. She got up quickly, moving lightly around the room, getting herself ready for the day.

The drive to the hospital was not difficult. She found a parking space and went in with a soft step and a light heart. He was already up and dressed, ready to be collected. In time honoured tradition the nursing staff insisted on taking him out to the exit of the hospital in a wheel chair.

"There's nothing wrong with my legs dammit!" he protested. Julie-Anne laughed at him and made no comment when he leaned on her shoulder for the walk from door to car.

By now she knew her way to his house and was relieved that she did not need to tick off the landmarks or refer to her route planner for assistance. He sat quietly beside her, watching her drive. When they pulled up outside the house he leaned toward her before opening the door to get out of the car. "I really am sorry to have put you through this Julie-Anne," he said in a husky voice. "I do realise how terrible it must have felt when someone called you to tell you I'd been involved in a car accident - after Andrew and everything, well . . . " His apology trailed off, he was unsure of what to say.

She looked at him, glad to see his lovely blue eyes shining in the daylight; glad to see his curly blonde hair framing his handsome face and neck; glad that he was alive and that she loved him. What ever would happen between them now, she would never wish him ill. "It's okay - you're okay. We can't undo it now it's happened so let's just move on, eh?"

He smiled and for a moment she caught her breath as she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead he turned to the door and said "Could you give me hand to climb out. I"m still feeling a bit wobbly to tell you the truth." She rushed around to help him and once again let him lean on her as they walked to Della who was waiting by the open door.

Della led the way into the drawing room and fussed over cushions to settle him down before she went off to get lunch organised. "You can have an early lunch and perhaps a rest this afternoon," she instructed as she walked away.

Russell looked at Julie-Anne with his eyebrows raised. "No wonder she's good at managing this huge house - she's very bossy!" he remarked.

"Hah!" Julie-Anne laughed. "She is good, and she knows what's best I'm sure."

"Does she?" his question was accompanied by a serious expression.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, - she seems to think we should be back together doesn't she?"

Julie-Anne blushed. "Yes," she admitted, "she does."

"Well after what's happened, I think we'd better stop messing about, don't you?"

Unsure of herself Julie-Anne searched Russell's countenance for the depth of meaning in his question.

"Come here!" he ordered her.

She slipped from her chair and knelt in front of him. He cupped her chin in his good hand, tilting it up so that he could inspect her face.

Being forced to look at close quarters at the damage to Russell's face upset Julie-Anne. She longed for him not to be hurt, he was so precious to her. A big tear escaped from her eyes but she smiled through it. "Hello you!" she whispered.

"Hello." Russell replied, "I don't seem to have seen you for some time."

"No. It does seem that we've been strangers for a while doesn't it."

"But we're both back now aren't we?"

"Yes Russell. Here we are. . . . Russell?"

"Yes?"

"Truly?"

He breathed out a long sigh as if he'd been holding his breath throughout their intimate conversation. Wincing, but determined he leaned forward and she raised her face up to his as he uttered "Oh yes my darling, I do love you, truly I do."

She closed her eyes as his mouth took possession of hers. Her corporeal body seemed to melt away and nothing existed except the presence of Russell and the warmth and passion of his kiss. His hand slipped around to cradle the back of her head and she put her hands gently on his chest so as not to hurt his shoulders. The kiss and the comfort of it lasted until Della came back into the room with an indiscreet cough to announce her presence.

Chapter thirteen

It was not yet midday but Della insisted that Russell should eat some soup and bread and then be taken upstairs to rest. He and Julie-Anne looked at one another like tow naughty children, sharing their thoughts.

They ate their soup and when Della came back for the plates she brought some papers for Russell to sign. They were household accounts for contract cleaners, kitchen supplies and some of the staff wages. Julie-Anne hadn't even been into the gardens or given them any thought. She learned now that there were three gardeners, each drawing a weekly wage from the estate. Russell let her look through the papers as he signed them. "Well, you're not going to turn down my proposal again - are you?" he half questioned and half stated to Julie-Anne.

Playfully she pretended to be considering her options before she answered him. He reached across with a sheaf of papers and swatted at her with them. Laughing she ducked out of his way. "Less of this Mr. Bryson-Steinar!" she exclaimed. "We've got to get you to bed for some rest!"

"Hmmn." he rumbled. "I think you'd better come up with me, I still need you to assess the room for those two tapestries."

"Okay." She agreed easily. She got up and helped him to his feet. Della had tactfully withdrawn from them, leaving it to Julie-Anne to ensure that Russell did as he was told.

They stopped beside the big window on the stairs for Russell to catch his breath and to look at the magnificent views of the Yorkshire dales. "It's beautiful." Julie-Anne realised.

"You'll be happy here?" Russell asked her.

"As long as I'm with you, I'd be happy anywhere," she smiled up at him. He brushed a light, tingling kiss across her lips and turned to carry on up the rest of the stairs.

The bedrooms were as spacious and beautiful as Julie-Anne had suspected. The master bedroom suite had a carved wooden fireplace, double aspects giving more magnificent views and walk in dressing room wardrobes fit for a queen. Julie-Anne inspected the room with glee while Russell visited the en suite. When he came back she informed him "I'm afraid you couldn't really hang the tapestries in here. There's much too much light, they get ruined."

He looked crest fallen. "Would it really matter?" he questioned.

"Well, that depends on whether you wanted to ruin and waste about twenty-thousand pounds worth of treasure really doesn't it!" she responded.

"I suppose not, if you put it that way. But I am disappointed, I had really imagined you waking up to look at them every day."

"You fool!" she rejoined, "I guess I'll just have to put up with waking up to your face every morning instead."

Russell pouted. "Well, you survived it before. I guess you can again. Now, help me to undress will you, it's really hard getting my shirt off over this plaster cast."

She helped him to remove the jacket that was slung over his shoulders and looked at the crisp white shirt that had been ruined by having the sleeve cut out to accommodate his plaster-cast arm. Standing close, she gently undid the shirt buttons and slipped the shirt over his smooth, bruised shoulders. As she did so she silently admired his naked chest and the firm flatness of his muscular belly. After the shirt she decided to carry on and unbuttoned the waistband of his moleskin trousers, drawing them down over his iron hard thighs to the floor for him to step out of them. As she let the trousers go a small black, velvet box slipped from the pocket.

"Open it." Russell instructed her.

Trembling, she opened the box and took out the beautiful diamond solitaire that she'd first seen on New Year's Eve. 'How long ago that now seems!' she considered, looking at the lovely ring.

"Put it on then!" Russell told her impatiently.

She slipped the ring over her finger, it was a perfect fit. In silence she gazed at it and made a small prayer 'I promise, diamonds or no diamonds, huge country estate or broken down shack in the woods - what ever life sends us . . . I shall love and cherish this man for ever.'

Russell reached down with his good hand and wrapped his fingers into the thick, dark hair at the back of her head, forcing her to tilt her head upwards and then to follow his hand so that she was standing up. Sliding his palm skilfully down through her hair until it was in the arch of her back he pulled her into the shape of his body and clasped her there while his hungry mouth found hers.

It seemed to Julie-Anne that Della had been planning the wedding long before she could have known it was actually going to happen; before Julie-Anne had even arrived in Yorkshire perhaps. Without doubt it was thanks to Della's careful planning and wilful control over the events of the household that the wedding was an absolute dream.

Russell planned a trip to Norway to see the northern lights, "And maybe look up a bit of Viking archaeology?" he hoped. He knew that the spectacle of the aurora would stun and delight Julie-Anne and she was excited about going.

Dressmakers sent pictures and patterns for her to choose from. She chose a very simple ivory gown with a fitted bustier and full skirts that flattered her petite figure.

Patti told her she really did look "properly like a princess, Miss!" which made her laugh.

The February date meant that the gardeners could supply early flowers from the green houses that they used to grow blooms for Della to use around the house every day of the year. But in February the really did have a good selection of pastel spring blooms to make up a gorgeous bouquet. It brought life and colour to the ivory dress to have the flowers arranged in her hands at her waist, she looked and looked in the mirrors when fitting day came. "I can't believe this is all happening to me!" she confided to Della.

"Believe it!" Della responded, "The rest of us are working hard enough at it to know just how real it is!" Her mock grumble made Russell laugh.

"I could always let you go you know!" he offered in jest, "if the work's too hard for you, I mean."

"You just mind I don't take you up on that - see how you'd like trying to run this place without me!" she countered.

Being a bit of a traditionalist Della insisted that Julie-Anne stayed in the hotel the night before the big day. Julie-Anne was thrilled that her parents had flown over with her aunt and Ben. They spent most of the night in the little hotel bar chatting and giggling. Julie-Anne's father had to scold her and eventually send her to bed. "Can't have a bride with black circles under her eyes!" he insisted.

Finally the morning came. Julie-Anne and her father climbed into a horse drawn coach that was waiting patiently for them on the cobbles outside the hotel. They had to allow a long time for the journey to Russell's house but the horses were pure white and so prettily decked out that Julie-Anne was thrilled to travel all through the countryside in the carriage. The sun shone and it was one of those warm February days that brought the promise of summer to follow.

When the carriage was finally clop-clopping along the lime tree walk Della, matron of honour, walked sedately along behind it to ensure that Julie-Anne arrived safely. They'd arranged for the ceremony to take place in the huge hall of the West Gallery and it had been dressed with garlands of flowers and bouquets overnight while Julie-Anne was away. When she entered on her father's arm she gasped with delight.

Standing beside Russell, looking up into his handsome face Julie-Anne knew that she would ever feel panicked or self doubting again. She knew that she was here by his side to stay. When Russell was formally asked if he agreed to "take this woman, to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish 'til death do you part according to God's holy ordinance. And thereto to her you plight your troth?" he looked deeply into Julie-Anne's exquisite, dark eyes, smiled and said simply "I do truly, Julie-Anne. Truly - I do!"

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Truly I do