Page 24 of Under Gorse and Stone

I set my cup down on the tray with a clink. “I should have a shower,” I say briskly.

He considers me for a long moment and then nods. “I have dried your clothes, Cary.”

“Thank you.” I pick up my phone and exclaim, “Shit, it’s dead.” I look up at him. “It shouldn’t be. There was plenty of battery last night.”

“Mayhap it got wet yesterday,” he offers.

I groan. “But of course it did. I am havingexactlythat sort of weekend. I’d better move fast before a lightning bolt hits your home.”

A smile hovers on his full lips. “Give me your phone. I will charge it. Then meet me in the kitchen when you have showered, and I will show you to the library where you can make your call in peace.”

“You have a library? Just how big is this place?”

He shrugs. “Sometimes even I forget.”

I remember that rumble I heard yesterday. “Maybe I could get the train to Penzance,” I offer. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“What train?” he asks slowly.

“The one I heard yesterday.”

“There is no train near here.”

“But I heard it,” I insist. “On the steps near the rocks, and I heard it. Then I heard it again when I took shelter behind them.”

His eyes go wide, his face paling. His expression is so hard to read. I think I see astonishment, fear, and even a trace of jubilation. Then he wipes all the emotions away and smiles. “You must have misheard. There is no train here. Mayhap it was the wind.”

It most certainly wasn’t the wind, but I make myself smile and nod. “Thank you for the offer. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

I’m strangely reluctant to stand naked in front of him this morning. I don’t know why. I’ve been naked in front of more men than I’ve had hot dinners and never thought anything of it. But this moment between us feels strangely solemn, and I don’t know why.

He nods and leaves the room, and I let out a sigh I didn’t know I was holding in. Throwing myself back on the bed, I bury my head in his pillow, taking in deep gusts of his scent. For some odd reason, it seems to centre me, calming me and giving me a funny feeling of peace. Then I make myself pull away and head for the shower.

Twenty minutes later, I walk into the kitchen. Sigurd doesn’t appear to hear me. He’s standing, leaning against the worksurface, staring out of the big window that looks down on the beach, his gaze seemingly fixed on the stormy sky where the clouds skid along. There’s something almost longing in his face—something distant and yearning.

I clear my throat, and he jumps, turning around. “Cary,” he exclaims, sounding as pleased as if he hadn’t seen me for forty years.

“That’s me.” I can’t help but smile at him, but then I sober. “Any luck with my phone?”

“Erm, no,” he says quickly. “I think you must have got it very wet.”

“Shit.”

He licks his lips. “I have put the battery in the rice to see if it dries out, but I do not hold out much hope.” He hesitates. “Do you have someone you need to contact?”

“Eh?”

He gestures expansively. “A… a partner.”

“Oh. Oh no. I’m single.” I watch, bemused, as his shoulders relax. “I suppose I could phone Adrian. But I’m pretty sure he’d prefer it if I fell off a cliff and bounced a few times on landing rather than ring him.”

“Adrian?”

“Yes, my ex. I told you. He brought me here. Well, brought me and then promptly dumped me, but let’s not split hairs or we’ll both end up bald.”

“Dump?”

I want to smile at his confused expression. It’s very endearing. “Finished with me. Ended our relationship.”