‘I’m Lara, Lara Drummond,’ she murmured.
‘Lara...that’s unusual,’ he remarked rather than responding as she had expected with his own name.
‘You can blame my mother. She was a big fan ofDr Zhivago.’
He gave her a blank look and she settled the sandwich plate in front of him.
‘It’s a film set in Russia during the first world war, starring Julie Christie and Omar Sharif,’ Lara explained ruefully, because it was obvious that he didn’t know what she was talking about. ‘It’s a romantic drama. That’s where I got my name from.’
‘Are you romantic?’
‘Not at all.’ Lara rolled her eyes at that idea after the adolescent experiences she had enjoyed. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Guy...’ he responded instantly and then he went oddly stiff and closed his lips again, his brows drawing together in a frown.
‘Guy.’ It struck her as an upper-class name that was a perfect match for his posh accent. He wasn’t very talkative. Of course, it could just be that he wasn’t feeling well and that he was exhausted, she scolded herself as she pushed another sandwich at him, keen to drive the frown from his lean dark features.
‘And you got lost,’ she commented.
‘Yes,’ he confirmed in an odd tone of finality. ‘I think I saw the tree with lights just before I fell. It feels familiar...somehow.’
‘Cathy loves to put the lights out on the apple tree so that she can see it from her kitchen window.’
‘Cathy?’ he queried.
‘The owner of the house. Well, Cathy and her husband, Brian. This is their home.’
‘And who are you?’
‘The house-sitter...an unofficial one. Cathy and Brian are spending Christmas in Australia and I’m here looking after everything until they come home,’ she clarified. ‘Let me show you to your room...’
He stood up slowly and his lashes flickered as he shifted his shoulders and his neck with caution.
‘Luckily there’s a room down here that you can use. I can see you’re still a bit dizzy so it’s best you don’t tackle the stairs yet. The room’s small but it’s comfortable,’ she confided, pushing open the door, relieved to see that the bed was already made up and that she wouldn’t have to do it.
‘Is there a bathroom?’
‘Yes, but I’m not sure you should use the shower yet either.’
‘I have a headache but that’s it,’ he said firmly as she opened another door across the corridor to indicate the washing facilities.
‘I’ll be in the kitchen. I’m going to use the sofa tonight so that I can stay within reach.’
His curling black lashes dipped low over his dark eyes, and he flashed her a slow-burning smile of appreciation that made her heart thunder in her ears and her mouth run dry. ‘I appreciate all the help you’ve given me. Thank you.’
She stood in the hallway a full minute after he had vanished into the bathroom and then her brain kicked in again and moved her. But that smile of his, my goodness when his whole face lit up like that he was stunning. Returning to the kitchen, she tidied up, tended to the animals and settled them for the night. Shortly after that she heard Guy close the bedroom door and she expelled her breath on a hiss.
Who was he? Why hadn’t she asked him where his stuff had gone? Had he lost it in the snow when he fell? Or had he simply been out rambling? If so, he could only be staying somewhere within reasonable reach but there were no houses closer than Dr Beresford’s and even she was a couple of miles away. And if he did have accommodation nearby, why hadn’t he mentioned it? Her own head was starting to ache with stress, and she went upstairs, donned her warmest pyjamas, gathered up her duvet and her alarm clock and went back downstairs to get as comfy as she could on the sofa.
The alarm wakened her from a solid sleep, and it took a moment or two for her to orientate herself and recall why she was getting up in the middle of the night. Sighing, she clambered off the sofa. She felt a bit cruel waking him up after the experience he had been through, and she brought him a warm drink as a consolation. She knocked on the bedroom door and waited but there was no sound within. Compressing her lips, she went in, the light from the hallway illuminating the room. She set the drink on the bedside cabinet.
He was fast asleep, his black hair very dark against the pale bedding. She bent down, steadying herself with one hand on the headboard, and shook the arm resting on top of the duvet. ‘Guy?’ she prompted. ‘It’s time to wake up...’
He stretched up a hand and found her shoulder, his dark eyes flying wide in surprise. ‘Mi dispiace...what did you say?’ he framed groggily.
‘I brought you a warm drink. How are you feeling?’
He slid a leg out of bed and began to rise, making her suddenly aware of how very tall he was. She stumbled backwards. As he lifted his hands as though to reassure her and stay her retreat, he caught his foot in the trailing duvet and lurched forward, knocking her off balance. A gasp of dismay parted Lara’s lips as she went crashing down on the floor with him on top of her. They looked at each other, stunned by the accident, and then just as quickly Lara began to shake with giggles.