A Perfect Proposal (46 page)

She knew that people didn’t usually get that cross with someone they were indifferent to. Was this true in Luke’s case? She squashed the tiny stirring of hope immediately she recognised it; Luke didn’t want her, he had Ali.

She started building a fire. A copy of the
Sunday Sport
was rolled into balls and placed in the grate. Wood shavings were placed on top. Then splinters of timber and, finally, a couple of the larger offcuts.

Smoke billowed out and the fire suddenly seemed a very bad idea, but it could just be because the chimney was cold. It could also be, Sophie knew perfectly well, because the chimney was blocked. This wasn’t good. If Luke had been ready to throttle her before, how would he be with her now the room was uninhabitable? They could always go
somewhere else but Sophie wanted the warmth and comfort of a fire, not to sit in the freezing cold with a hostile man.

She opened a window and let some of the smoke out. With luck the worst would have gone by the time Luke came back and she could put it down to a cold chimney and not a completely dysfunctional one. The house had been lived in by an old lady; surely she would have had real fires, as in the old days?

The smoke began to clear and, when no more came, Sophie shut the window, trading fresh air for warmth. Then she drew up two chairs left by the builders to the fire and peered inside the bag.

It produced several plastic boxes. One contained fruit cake, another cheese. There were oatcakes and a bottle of brandy, half full. There were some metal beakers and a bottle of water and a couple of candles. These she lit and stuck with wax on to the mantelpiece, trusting that the woodwork would be stripped or painted or something and she wouldn’t be doing permanent damage.

Luke was being ages, she realised. Why was he taking so long? He had the torch. What could have happened to him? Now worry about Luke added to her general misery. She sat as close to the fire as she could get, her hands practically in it, but it had no warmth yet, and she was as cold as ever.

She decided to rearrange her soaking clothes. She took off Moira’s jumper that she’d put on over her coat, took off the coat and then put the jumper back on. Her jeans were clinging to her horribly and after a moment’s consideration she took off first her boots, which were completely ruined, and then her jeans. At the moment they were just making sure her legs stayed wet and cold.

The wettest clothes she draped over the back of one of the chairs and put it at the side of the fire. If they got up a really good blaze some of them might get slightly less damp.

She had only just made herself decent when she heard Luke. ‘What took you so long?’ she demanded, startled. ‘I was really worried!’

It was the wrong thing to say. ‘I found logs,’ he said, depositing a huge basket of them down with a thump. ‘But they needed splitting. Fortunately there was also an axe.’ His heavy breathing indicated this had been hard work.

‘Oh, can you do that?’ went on Sophie, partly to cover her self-consciousness about being only half dressed.

‘Yes I can do that! I don’t know what sort of an idiot you think I am but I can split logs!’

‘I just thought—’

Luke threw two big logs on to Sophie’s fire, causing sparks to fly up the chimney. ‘I don’t think you think much at all!’

Sophie wished she’d kept her clothes on. She felt very vulnerable with bare feet. ‘Yes I do.’ She didn’t sound very convinced.

‘You didn’t have to go out in this weather – fetching Matilda’s camera is hardly a life-saving activity! It wasn’t just your life you put at risk, you know.’

‘Actually, you know, I think I’ve apologised enough! I made an error of judgement; I didn’t know that floods came up so quickly here but no one has died. We’re fine. When will you stop being so angry about it?’

A log fell and suddenly there was more light. She could see his expression but she couldn’t understand it.

‘I had faith in you, Sophie. I thought you were a nice girl, talented, with integrity. But I was wrong.’

‘Really?’ She didn’t know if she was questioning his first opinion of her, or his second.

‘Yes! I discovered that, actually, you had your eye on the main chance all along.’

‘I’m still not getting it.’

‘You made friends with my grandmother—’

‘She made friends with
me
.’

‘She trusted you! You helped her, although it was in a mad scheme—’

‘You helped her too!’

‘Not to sink a fortune into a wreck.’

Sophie shrugged. ‘I didn’t do that. She’s a very determined person. She does what she likes.’

‘She would never have done it if it wasn’t for you! She almost said as much.’

‘Did she? Well, that’s not my responsibility.’

‘I think it is, and I think you should
take
responsibility!’

‘No! You knew she wanted to buy the house. You’re her grandson, she would have listened to you.’

‘Well, she didn’t – because of you!’

Her control gave way. She’d tried so hard to be reasonable, and understanding, but the unfairness of this fused all Sophie’s adrenalin, discomfort and anxiety into a rage that matched Luke’s and then some.

‘How dare you!
You pompous, overbearing idiot, blaming me for what Matilda has done!’

‘Ali said …’ He paused.

‘What? What did Ali say? And what has what Ali says to do with the price of fish?’

‘She told me that you and your boyfriend were probably planning to get something out of my grandmother – possibly the house!’

‘Oh did she? Well, for a start I haven’t got a boyfriend—’

‘Yes you have!’

‘No I haven’t! I wasn’t the one who—’ But she couldn’t finish the sentence out loud, that she wasn’t the one who’d had amazing sex with a person who was actually committed elsewhere.

‘You have a boyfriend,’ Luke stated. ‘There was the text. Ali read it. It was quite clear.’

‘We won’t go into the matter of Ali reading texts on my phone but if she assumed that about my life, I assure you …’ She paused. ‘Did you read the text yourself?’

‘No.’

‘Well, that’s a shame because I think it would prove that while this particular person, who I did go out with for a short time, is in the habit of texting me when he’s drunk and lonely, we are no longer together and hadn’t been for months when I met you.’ She paused for breath, no longer worrying about keeping her feelings for him hidden. ‘You, on the other hand, you preppy millionaire rich boy, took me for a high old ride! Will you pretend to be my fiancée so the girls won’t pester me? Will you take me in when I’m penniless in England? Will you have sex with me almost the whole night through because
my girlfriend
’ – she spat out the word – ‘isn’t available and I get a headache if I don’t have sex!’

‘It wasn’t like that!’

‘And don’t think the fact that you helped me with my drilling rights makes it any better. I paid you for your time!’

‘You what?’ Suddenly it was Luke who was the most angry again. ‘You did what?’

‘You heard me! You’re not deaf! I paid you for your time out of money Uncle Eric gave me.’

‘Oh, so you’ve got him giving you handouts, have you? Why doesn’t that surprise me?’

‘How dare you say that! I love Uncle Eric and he gave me that money so I could do my course without having to wait for the oil money to come through. I spent some of it on paying for your time.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ he said stiffly.

‘Too up ourselves to check the accounts, are we? Well, Ali told me how much I owed and I paid it. And no, I didn’t get a receipt!’

‘You were not meant to pay me. I gave my time pro bono. For nothing.’

‘I know what it means, thank you! And nobody likes a smart-arse!’

‘Sophie!’

Luke sounded shocked, whether because of her language or something else, Sophie couldn’t tell, but she suddenly found herself wanting to giggle. She tried to hide it but she couldn’t. The more she knew it was the wrong thing to do, the more she giggled.

‘Are you laughing at me?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. He strode towards her, knocking over the torch, and took hold of her shoulders so hard it hurt. He growled, ‘I don’t know what to do with you! Murder seems a good choice.’

Sophie was frightened but she wasn’t going to show it. She licked her lips and cleared her throat.

‘No so fast with the smart replies now, are you?’

Sophie knew she had to make him laugh too, if she possibly could. It was a high-risk strategy but she had to try. ‘If this were a film you’d call me a silly little fool and kiss me passionately.’

‘Oh would I? Well, we’ll see how you like it!’

The pressure of his mouth was such that Sophie tasted blood as their teeth clashed. His hold on her was punishing, as was his kiss, but she responded to him as petrol responds to flame.

They swayed and fought in the firelight, neither willing to let go, both wanting to inflict damage with their passion. Tongues, lips, fingers bit and clung until at last Luke broke away.

‘Jesus Christ, Sophie. My life would be so much easier if I didn’t want you so much.’

Sophie couldn’t speak. Even fighting her way out of the swollen river hadn’t taken so much out of her. She closed her
eyes and tried to get her breath back.

‘Here,’ said Luke after a few moments. ‘Drink this.’ He handed her a metal beaker. ‘Brandy. I think you need it. I think we both do.’

She took a large sip, coughed and then felt a bit better. ‘You’re a good kisser, Luke Winchester. I’ll say that for you.’

‘Why, you little—’

There was a banging on the front door that made them both jump.

‘That’ll be the cavalry,’ said Luke, looking down into Sophie’s eyes. ‘Just in time. Before I have my preppy-millionaire-rich-boy way with you again.’

Sophie was laughing, hiding her desperate disappointment under her sense of the ridiculous. ‘You’d better let them in. I’ll make myself decent.’

Sophie forced her legs into her wet jeans, thinking there was nothing more unpleasant and wishing and wishing that the cavalry had not arrived and she and Luke could have shared another night of passion, even if it did mean spending it on splintery floorboards. She would have felt terribly guilty – she knew now that Luke was taken – but she would have done it.

‘Well, my bewdy, what you been up to then?’ A couple of burly Cornish farmers came into the room. ‘Should have known better than to come out on a night like this!’

‘I’m terribly sorry to have caused so much trouble,’ said Sophie. ‘Where I come from floods don’t happen quite so quickly.’

‘How did you get here?’ asked Luke. ‘If the road is flooded and blocked with Sophie’s car?’

‘Back way up the fields,’ said the farmer. ‘Young Moira told me where you were. Had to come and get you, didn’t we?’

‘We’re terribly grateful,’ said Sophie. ‘It would have been dreadful to have to spend the night here.’

‘Looks like you’ve made yourselves quite cosy,’ said the farmer, indicating the fire.

‘But there’s nothing to sleep on,’ said Sophie. ‘I don’t suppose.’ She felt sure these two kindly men knew what she and Luke would have been doing.

‘It’s very kind of you to come out on a night like this to rescue us,’ said Luke.

‘Yes. I really am sorry. I was very silly. If I’d known …’

‘Well, hindsight is a perfect science,’ said one of the men.

‘And she only came to get a camera,’ said Luke. ‘I’d better get it.’

‘It’s in the attic. I think I know where it is,’ said Sophie. ‘Give me the torch and I’ll fetch it.’

‘I’ll go, you’ve got nothing on your feet.’

Luke left the room and Sophie gathered up the things. She picked up her boots last. They were so sad now, soggy and crumpled. They seemed to symbolise her relationship with Luke: once beautiful and lovely, now fit for nothing but the dustbin, really. As she pushed her feet down into the slimy leather, she sighed, wondering if she’d ever be able to bring herself to throw them away.

One of the farmers helped Sophie through the walled garden and up the hill to where the tractors were. The other was guiding Luke back to his car over the fields so he wouldn’t have to wade through the ford. They’d leave her car until the morning; the floods were too fierce down there at present for anyone to risk their lives any more than they had to.