A little bit of a shorter chapter I'm afraid but I wanted to get something out – roll on the weekend when I have time to just sit and write! :-)

Chapter 14

They plan to drive to Knaresborough mid-morning on Saturday, simply to enjoy the spring weather and each other's company. He picks her up at 10:30, rings her bell and waits for her to come down, leaning against the car door as he does so.

Shutting the door behind her she turns, stops and stares at him dangling keys at her.

"Whose is that?" She blurts out, rather uncouthly, her accent strong in both shock and excitement.

"Ours today." He says with a grin, one leg tucked behind the other, looking easy and relaxed. "Jaguar. Convertible –," He doesn't get to finish because she's half-running, half-skipping, towards him.

"Ahh!" She yelps grabbing the keys from his fingers, "Can I drive?" She's already leaning around him looking at the beautiful vehicle.

"Like it then?"

"Sooo much. Whose is it?"

"Richard's. I may have mentioned earlier this week that you had a thing for convertibles and this morning," he shrugged, "I saw the sun and I figured I'd ask him. We better not scratch it because I think it's worth more than my life insurance."

"Oh you're so wonderful," she drops her bag into the back of the car with her jacket.

"So, do I get a thank you?"

She cups his face in her hands and kisses him quickly, "Thank you. Thank you. Let's go."

She's already at the driver's door getting in, moving the seat into her preferred position and turning the key in the ignition.

"Anything I should know? How does it handle?"

"Beautifully."

"As if I'd expect anything less."

She checks her mirror before easing out into the street.

"I'd always wanted one of these," she admits as they settle into the drive. "I think it suits me," she casts him a quick look – a pout and shaded eyes – and he chuckles.

"Yes, I believe it does."

"Maybe Richard will let me keep it, or even better, what if I bet him for him tonight – what's he absolutely going to lose at?"

"He's quite poor at lawn bowls, not got the eye for it."

"That's it then, that's what I'll play. How much money will I need?"

"As much as you want to gamble…and lose."

"How much do you take?"

"Couple of hundred."

"A couple of hundred pounds?! To a games night."

"They aren't childish games." He laughed. "It's serious stuff."

"Obviously. I'm quite excited though," she said, glancing in her mirror. "A little nervous, but excited too."

"Why nervous?"

"Because it's your friends and something you do a lot and I want to fit in and not show you up."

"As if you could."

"Believe me I could. Don't let me drink too much, though if I'm driving I won't be able to so it won't matter."

"Oh yes, that's another thing."

"Another thing?" She said, mocking his serious tone.

"They've asked us to stay. I mean we don't have to, they won't take offence. A few people do, it's a pretty big place and there's a nice breakfast tomorrow."

"When you said Isobel was rich you meant she was really rich, didn't you."

"Pretty much. Her father invented something, I don't know, shoe ties or sandwich packs, I never remember – something that seemed insignificant but made him a mint."

"Clearly. Why did I never sit around thinking of shit to invent…? Ah yes, because I was out milking cows at the crack of dawn."

He smiled, she didn't often mention her childhood and now whenever she did he couldn't help but tinge the experience with sadness. He guessed not everything could have been bad but it had clouded his reactions to her stories somewhat.

"Well, it's up to you. I might stay, I always have the same room."

"Do you usually stay?"

"Usually yes, I like the brandy they serve."

"But of course you do." She brushed her hair back from her face. "And do you…I mean, have you stayed with a woman before?"

"You mean have I taken a date there with me?"

She nodded, sucking on her bottom lip.

"No Elsie, I haven't." He doesn't feel he needs to explain why not. "That's not to say I wasn't asked to."

She sits more upright in the seat, "Good," is all she says. "When we go back to change I'll pack an overnight bag."

They take their time wandering around the castle ruins, it's a cool spring day but bright and there's no need to rush, a lovely, lazy drawl to the day.

He lets her gabble on about the history of the place, happy to have his own private guide.

"This is the East Gate," she says as they approach it. "You know what I love most about it – you'll think it soppy."

"Go on."

"That when I stand inside I can still picture how it would have looked, sounded, the hustle and bustle, the smells. And it's on our doorstep."

He digs in his pocket for money to pay their entrance and she picks up a leaflet, it's not too busy yet, a month or so more and it will be, and they can walk around without feeling rushed or straining to hear each other. He's a few steps behind her and she waits just inside, taking hold of his arm as he comes in. She cuddles against him, "You know the first mention of Knaresborough was in the Domesday Book, 1086. There are times I bemoan the fact we spend months with dark mornings and dark nights and rain and rain and rain…but I do love that we have this."

She feels soft and warm against him and he's content to just wander and listen.

When she's exhausted her knowledge and their feet are getting tired they buy takeaway teas and sit near the lawn drinking.

"I'm glad of this," my fingers have gone cold." He admits, cradling the polystyrene cup.

"Mine too, and my toes. Roll on summer."

"I miss the heat of Dubai, all those hours lying in it, nothing but a lounger and the pool." He closes his eyes as he sips the tea.

"And the beach, the sound of the ocean." Her smile is soft, "it was a pretty perfect destination I picked."

"It was indeed."

"Until I messed it up on that last day." She blows across the top of her cup. "You know, up until Christmas I was quite happy with how we were progressing, and then… well after Joe showed up and then you suddenly were all in following our New Year break and I suppose I got scared."

"Can I ask… I don't want to pry."

"Ask away." She sipped her tea.

"The divorce. What changed? What made it happen?"

"He left me. That's what happened."

He's not quite sure how he feels now he has that knowledge.

"Just one night told me that it was over, he'd met somebody else and that was it. Left the next day. Though of course he kept coming back for clothes and things until he moved in with her permanently – Sarah – the odd thing was by the time it happened it wasn't even a surprise. We'd had such horrible years; the only thing I enjoyed was my work and Anna. I felt so lonely in the rest of my life, like I wasn't really there." She leant towards him on the bench, resting her head against his arm.

She doesn't want to tell him that three months after the divorce was finalised Joe showed up claiming he'd made a mistake, he wanted to come home, and they ended up in bed together. That after she felt humiliated and disgusted when she realized it was nothing but sex, that he'd visited and cajoled and sweet-talked just to fuck her, because he could, because she let him. The very next day he'd left again. She contacted an estate agent and put the house on the market.

For a long time they sat in silence watching the world go by, her body pressed against his side, his chin on her head.

Finally he says, "Let's go have cake, that tea was rubbish. Let's have proper tea and proper cake."

"Mmm," she lifts her face up to his and he kisses her gently. "Beautiful woman."

There's a sad smile to her when he brushes her cheek and he wonders what she's thinking of.

But she gets up, hooks her arm through his and they walk into town.

He orders chocolate cake, she has lemon, and they swap and taste and drink strong tea giggling over their indulgence.

"When are we going bed shopping?" She suddenly asks and he gawps at her.

"Not so loud, people will wonder what I'm doing to you."

'Nothing' she thinks but bites her tongue.

"Well?"

He shrugs, "Plumbing should be done today which means plastering on Monday, decoration towards the end of next week. Then bed shopping. And furniture shopping. And book rearranging."

"That's the bit you're looking forward to," she says waving her pastry fork at him.

"Absolutely. I've missed them."

She refills their teacups, shifting in her chair to get her legs comfy. "What do I have to wear tonight?"

He has no idea what women wear to these things! "Just trousers and a shirt."

She laughs, "No, that's what you wear. I'm not risking trousers after the cricket, I was the only woman there not dressed up and flirty."

"You don't even need to try…" He says polishing off his cake then looking up quickly, "I meant that in a nice way."

"I worked that out. Is it really dressy, formal, jeans – what?"

"Most just wear smart looking clothes," he shrugged, "I don't know. Why are you so worried?"

"I've told you why, I don't want to let you down."

His fingers brushed her arm, "Elsie, just you agreeing to come is enough."

"Hmm, well, we'll see. And this breakfast, I mean who's staying? Is that horrible woman staying?" She puts her cup down sharply.

He smirks, "Laura? She isn't horrible really, you've just got to get to know her."

"I think you and I have different versions of what 'horrible' consists of. She was horrible."

He shakes his head, reaching for the fork he'd discarded and using it to break off a piece of her cake.

"Hey. I haven't finished with that."

"You're too slow."

She has one last bite then relinquishes the rest to him.

"I want to take something for Isobel – are flowers too boring?"

"You don't have to take a thing, they won't expect it."

"But I want to. So are they?"

"She likes bright colours," he says sitting back in his chair. "Large petals."

"Right. We'll go to the florists next. Then time to go home, have a shower, get ready."

He twists his watch on his wrist, "Els, we've got over three hours before we have to set off."

"Then you'll have a lovely long time to get your hair right."

"Very funny. I've got to get the car back anyhow, so I'll drop you off and do that."

"Oh…"

"Oh what? We can't keep it."

"Not that. I mean, I don't want to arrive on my own."

"Well I…" he notes her pleading eyes. "I'll come back for you, I'll get a taxi."

She squeezes his hand. "I'm going to use the bathroom here before we go."

He picks up the order from the table, "I'll pay…" But she's already thrusting a note into his hand and he wonders just how she repressed this stubborn independent streak for so long.

He's been watching the news channel for so long he's seen the headlines play through at least four times. Tapping the remote control against his leg he wonders again how long it takes to get dressed and brush your hair.

He crosses his legs in front of him, sighing heavily. Her phone rings and she yells from the bedroom, "Get that please Charles."

"Hello." He says digging his hand into his pocket as he stands.

"Oh, hello." Anna. "I didn't expect you…she's got you answering the phone now."

"Hi," he sits down, genuinely glad of the distraction. "She's getting ready, been hours." He says lowly.

"Oh yes, it's the party isn't it. Whatever she wears reassure her she looks stunning and you'll be fine."

"She always does anyhow. How are you? The exams?"

"Going okay I think, I wanted to call and thank mum for the survival pack."

"What's that consist of?"

He hears her shuffling papers about. "Stuff she'll know I need; Wispa bars, Diet Pepsi, face masks, cheesy Wotsits. And cool stationery. Essentials, ya know." She giggles and he smiles.

"That's sweet."

"It is. She's always done it. My housemates get jealous."

"When do you have to leave your house there?"

"End of July officially but I'll be back before then, find something to do with my time so I'm not just loitering around Mum's flat whilst I wait to get a job. I might come up later this week for a couple of days, not decided yet."

"Well, if you fancy a part time job in a book store over the summer just say."

"I may just take you up on that."

"I've taken up too much of your time, I'll hand you over to your mum." He gets up from the couch and heads through to the bedroom.

"Don't be silly, I like talking to you. And thanks for waiting for her, being patient, and well… all the other stuff you're doing. Told she was great beneath it, didn't I."

"You were right." He says, watching Elsie in front of the mirror doing her hair.

He hands the phone across and leaves them to talk.

Thirty minutes later there's a taxi bleeping outside and he's standing in the hallway, he's never known her to take so long, in Dubai she'd be ready for dinner in fifteen minutes.

"Els…" he says again, tapping his foot.

"I said I'm coming, and I am." She says, finally emerging from the bedroom and coming towards him. "You've got my overnight bag?" He wobbles the bag in his hand. "Where's yours?"

"I dropped it off earlier."

She finally stands still in front of him. "Okay, ready."

"Stunning." He leans forward and kisses her, he intended it to be a sweet reassurance but she smells so good he finds it turning into a much more heated exchange.

"I've just done my lipstick," she whispers, her hand against his chest.

"Mmm, and we'll be late. Distracting me, that's how you'll win tonight."

"Oh god, the flowers!" She exclaims, dashing into the kitchen to get them. He hopes she'll relax soon.

There are already cars blocking the driveway when the taxi drops them off and she's fiddling with the necklaces she's layered up, and the bangles on her wrist, wondering if it's too much.

He comes around to her, overnight bag hanging over one arm, flowers in his hand, and takes her hand kissing the back of it. "Ready to go?"

"It's a huge house."

"I did say." His thumb is brushing her hand. "So, ready?"

She nods, "Yes. You're sure I look okay…?" she fusses as they make their way up the drive.

He bypasses the front door and they go around the side of the house to the garden. It's dark now but there are lights everywhere she looks – like fireflies in the trees; candles on tables, garlands hung from the building. Heaters are placed around and by the end of the night she's sure people will be gathered around them.

She can smell barbecue and notes a man in chef's whites by a grill, a hog roast turning, potatoes roasting and a whole buffet of accompaniments. She holds onto his left hand with her right, her other hand coming across gripping his arm.

"Sweetheart," he whispers. "I can't feel my fingers."

And she loosens her hold, biting down on her bottom lip. She's not really sure why she's so nervous – perhaps because the cricket had been a little awkward, or because this is more intimate, somebody's home, his friends, real friends, people who've known him for years. She doesn't have friends like that – she has Beryl and Bill and her work colleagues but that's it. There must be fifty people there already at least.

"We'll say hello then I'm going to ply you with wine." He says.

"Oh thank god." She murmurs in reply.

He leads her through the French doors into the conservatory area then into the large, open-plan kitchen and she's trying not to count the bottles of wine and liquor lined up on a counter when she hears Isobel's voice.

"Ah, you're here, how wonderful."

And she has to let go of Charles because she's being drawn into a hug and having her cheeks kissed.

"And you look so lovely, what a wonderful colour on you."

"Thank you. Your home is so very beautiful."

"Well, thank you. It wasn't like this when we bought it, believe me, I spent years getting it right." She leans past her to kiss Charles. "Hello darling, how are you?"

"Very good."

"You look it." She says fondly, casting a glance at Elsie.

"These are for you, Els chose them."

"How kind of you, nobody ever brings me presents to these things. These will brighten up the breakfast table. You are staying aren't you?"

"Yes, if that's okay, I don't want to impose."

She squeezes her arm again, "Think nothing of it. Has Charles shown you your room? You've got time to take your bag up; we'll be popping the Champagne and fireworks in about twenty minutes. I better go and check on things. See you later."

"Fireworks?" Elsie mouths turning to him.

He shrugs, "It's a bit of over-the-top fun, just enjoy it, it's not really me neither but it's good fun. She and Richard always push the boat out with these things. Come on."

She follows him through the house and it quietens as they move away from the kitchen and outdoor space.

"I need to take my shoes off," she whispers as they reach the plush carpet of the main hall, and he does the same.

Barefoot she digs her toes into the carpet, figuring it probably cost more than her car, and follows him up the stairs.

"The end of the landing I think, best view out of this one. And it's got the largest bath."

Why is she not surprised every room has it's own bathroom?

"Here we are," he flips the light on as the door swings open and she steps in, noting his bag in the middle of the large bed.

"We're sharing a room?" She says turning to him.

"Well, they'd just done it, organised them all – each one has an occupant, I always have this room, they just assumed we'd be…" He dropped her bag next to his. "I felt a bit foolish explaining how we're…"

She raised an eyebrow, shutting the door behind her. "Abstaining?" She sits on the bed, bouncing to test how comfy it is. "Sure you can keep your hands to yourself Mr. Carson?"

He licked his bottom lip, "I thought a cuddle might not be out of the question."

She chuckles, "How risqué – don't be thinking you can take advantage of me just because I'll have been drinking and am in a strange bed."

He's standing in front of her now, leaning over her, "I wouldn't dream of it."

She lifts her hand to trail up his back, "Sure you wouldn't."

They kiss for a long, deep moment until she pushes him back at the sound of commotion downstairs.

"Must be getting ready to start." He holds his hand out to pull her up from the bed, "Come on, lets get some Champagne."

Charles is sitting in the swing chair beneath the tree nursing a glass of French brandy and few squares of rich, dark chocolate when Richard pulls a chair up to sit beside him.

"Having a quiet moment?" He says, noting Charles' closed eyes.

"Mmm. Just enjoying being decadent for a change. Great night – as usual. You've done yourselves proud."

"She has. She loves all this, entertaining. Making people happy."

"I know."

They sit quietly for a while listening to the music, the chatter over card games, the light smack of bowls down on the lawn, excited giggles as money is exchanged.

"The car went over well then?"

Charles eyes opened and his face broke into a warm grin, "She loved it, we had a good morning actually, just wandering and talking. It's really starting to click. Just don't ask her about her Politics."

"Not a Tory then?"

"God no, don't even start her on it."

"Could be cause for a row, come the election."

"Let's hope not, had enough of that for the year."

"You never did say what happened."

Charles swirled the liquid in his glass, "I suppose she got cold feet, I moved too fast and scared her off," he shrugged, "things like that."

"Well, she seems to be enjoying herself tonight." He nudged Charles' elbow, pointing out where Elsie was throwing dice over the craps table.

"She does indeed."

"Things going okay with the renovations too, you alright financially?"

"Don't ask me things like that…" Charles said taking a gulp of his brandy.

"Izzy wanted to check you were okay."

"It's going fine and yes I'm fine for money."

"You know we're only asking because you're our oldest friend."

"Yes, I know…" he turned his attention back to Elsie leaning over the table. "I'm glad she's relaxed, I've never seen her so nervous. And I'm glad Laura is keeping out of he way." He sat forward in his chair, ceasing the swing by planting his feet firmly on the ground. "She did not take well to her."

Richard chuckled, "So we best not telling her you nearly had a fling with her a few Christmases back?"

"Don't dare mention it. Can't believe I even considered it."

"One too many glasses of festive punch my friend, Izzy had almost convinced you to ask her out." He touched Charles' arm, "You best go rescue her, I think George may be on the move. And er… isn't that Laura joining the game?"

"Oh crap." Charles put his glass down and pushed himself off, his body felt weary and he glanced at his watch. A quarter to eleven.

"Black Jack soon, shall I save you a seat?"

"Save two."

He dug his hands into his trouser pockets, kicking the gravel as he made his way to her – how was it that his heart still sped up at the thought of being near her? He could still recall how it beat the first time he asked her out. The first time he'd touched her hand. The first time they'd kissed on his couch.

"Hey, how you doing?"

He said coming up behind her and she turned excitedly, placing her hands on his shoulders as she stood on her tiptoes. "Well, I've got more money than when I started."

"Ooh, how much more?" His hands easily fell to her waist.

"Three pounds and twenty pence more." She boasted, and he laughed. "Don't mock, I could win big yet. How about you?"

"Won £45 on the maths quiz." He said, waggling his eyebrows at her.

She glared at him, "£45! How?"

He shrugged, "I'm pretty good at the games nights."

"You never told me that."

"You never asked."

She hit him in the stomach with her purse, "Holding out on me."

"Elsie, you going to roll?" one of the other players said.

"I'm the shooter!" She said confidently, stepping back to the table; this was the lively fun woman he knew. He was glad she'd got over the nerves and come out to play.

He stood directly behind her, so close when she moved she stood on his foot.

"What are you doing?" She asked, flustered, distracted from her game.

"Protecting your bottom."

"What…?!"

"The bottom pincher..." he whispers before greeting the man, "George," Charles suddenly says loudly, "How nice to see you."

"Charlie boy, good to see you. And who is this fine you filly you've brought along."

Elsie's eyebrows rose and she slowly looked up from the table to see an older man leering at her. She wanted to laugh; she'd not been called a 'filly' in her life.

"This is Elsie."

"Elsie, Elsie, my dear, well…" He took her hand, still holding the dice, and kissed it. "Spoken for then are you?"

"It would appear so," she smiled, taking her hand back and throwing the dice.

Charles watched as they rolled, enjoying the feeling of her leaning back against him, the fragrance of her hair by his face. The fact that many of the people at that table he'd known for many, many years and they'd never seen him with a woman.

The table yelled in delight and she screamed in front of him, jumping and turning to hug him. He held onto her, "I take it you won?"

"Yes, yes, yes. I'm naturally good at it. I must be."

"Not a bad win Elsie," Laura said and Charles wasn't sure if she meant the game or him, the way she looked them over.

She happily collected her winnings, "Quit whilst I'm ahead." And joined him at the Black Jack Table.

It was almost two before they left the game and headed up to bed. Most had gone home by then or retired for the night and Charles' eyes hadn't functioned right for at least an hour.

He let her use the bathroom first, amused when she tiptoed out with the robe from the bathroom around her, "They even provide bathrobes." She exclaimed. "It's like a hotel."

"Help me up Els," he groaned, holding his arms up from the bed. "I'm getting too old for these late nights."

She took his hands and pulled, "Good job I wasn't hoping to get lucky." She kissed him quickly.

"I feel lucky." He assured her.

"That's your winnings from cards burning in your pocket."

She waited until he'd shut the bathroom door before she took the robe off and climbed beneath the expensive, pristine cream sheets and settled back. She'd never imagined she'd be sharing a bed with him and as such had brought one of her comfy t-shirt nightgowns for bed (something she would never have worn in front of him, it was shapeless and baggy) and then she'd spent an age in the bathroom debating whether she should leave her knickers on or not (she decided on 'on' for the sake of propriety).

Clearly Charles had no such worries, emerging bleary eyed from the bathroom in nothing but his boxers and with damp, mussed hair.

He climbed in beside her, shuffling down and plumping his pillows. She switched off the lamp and lay beside him.

"It's been weeks since we shared the same bed," he said into the darkness, reaching for her waist and pulling her back against him. He kissed the back of her neck, humming against her skin. "This is nice."

"Very nice," she agreed, her hand folding over his. She closed her eyes, sinking into the softness of the pillow.

"I'm glad you had a good time," he whispered.

"I'm glad I did too." She played with his fingers, sliding hers back and forth along his. "And I really did, such good fun, I felt as giddy as a child when I won."

"It's addictive. Richard and I started it at University, just card nights then, and it grew to this."

"It's a lovely idea to get everyone together for it." She yawned and patted his hand. "Night Charles."

"Goodnight love."

The next time Elsie was aware of conscious thought she was laying on her back and Charles' mouth was on her neck, his hands wandering, and had this sweetly delicious tingle of anticipation in her stomach.

She leisurely opened her eyes, her hands sliding up over his back, and as he realised she was awake he moved his mouth up to hers, meeting hers in a deep kiss.

His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, rolling over her breasts, her nipples beneath his palms, down her arms, over her ribcage, pushing up the nightgown between them until it bunched beneath her breasts.

She trailed her fingers over his bare back, kissed him back just as fiercely, as longingly. His legs were pressing against hers, skin against skin, and she curled her foot up over the back of his leg, rubbing with her heel.

He rolled them onto their sides, pressing her against him, his hands cupping her bottom and then moving to her thigh, lifting her leg up and over him. Her hands were in his hair, on the back of his neck, her fingernails causing that delicious friction he loved so much. He felt hot and heady and so entirely enamoured with his feelings for her.

"God, I want you…" he mumbled, his thumbs hooking into the top of her knickers, doing his best to tug them down. "I want you."

Somehow her brain kicked in and she squirmed against him, pressing her hands firmly against his chest. "We can't…" she panted, shifting her mouth out of his reach. "Not here."

He rolled her onto her back again, hovering over her, pressing between her legs until she moaned his name.

"Charles we can't…"

"I need you now." He breathed against her skin, his tongue on her neck again.

"I know, I know." She pressed her hands firmly against his shoulders forcing him to look at her in the dim light of the room. "Not here honey, I've not waited all these weeks to have a rushed, silent encounter in your friend's bed."

"You're so tempting." He wants to kiss her again, bugger where they are, he wants to love her in every way he can. But he knows she's right, as turned on as he is right now, he'd regret it. When they make love again he wants to be alone with her, to spend hour upon hour loving her with no threat of having to get up or go anywhere. He wants to love her until she says she loves him back.

"I might need a splash of cold water," he says rolling off of her, to which she smiles.

She's snuggled back in bed by the time he returns and she rests her head against his chest when he lies down.

"Better."

"Not really. I'm going to try and think of something else."

"Want me to sleep on the other side of the bed?"

"No," he kisses her head, wraps his arms around her. "I like holding you."

"I like being held."

He looks at the red numbers of the clock blinking in the darkness, 4:43.

"Go to sleep," she whispers, and he closes his eyes. Happily frustrated.

Apologies for any errors - it's late and my eyes are tired! Hope you enjoyed the games! x R