That Would Be a Fairy Tale - By Amanda Grange Page 0,1

skirt and even filthier blouse in vexation. She put up a hand to push the hair out of her eyes and discovered that her hat had been knocked off in her fall. It was nowhere to be seen, until she turned round and caught sight of it twirling around just out of reach. She was just about to grab it when she saw something else. There, parked at the side of the road, was the Daimler, and standing next to it was the man who had caused her accident. He was about thirty years old with brown hair and dark eyes, a full mouth and, revealed by his infuriating smile, a flash of white teeth. His driving coat was hanging elegantly over his trousers and jacket and he was casually removing a pair of driving gloves.

‘I suppose you find this amusing?’ she asked icily.

His smile broadened into a laugh, goading her to continue: ‘If you were a gentleman you would now be apologizing for causing an accident and doing everything in your power to make amends, but as you are obviously nothing of the kind I will have to help myself.’

His expression darkened and she was pleased to have annoyed him.

Paying him no more attention, she retrieved her hat, putting it securely on her head, only to find muddy water cascading down her face.

And just when I believed my dignity could sink no lower! she thought, as she heard an explosion of laughter behind her. The sooner I’m back at the Lodge the better.

She waded crossly over to her bicycle and pulled on the handlebars, but it was stuck in the mud. She waded round to the other side of it, her sodden skirt making her movements slow and clumsy, and tried again. But again to no avail.

And then a pair of hands – strong, masculine hands – covered hers.

Cicely froze.

The driver, coming up behind her, had wrapped his arms around her and was proceeding to help her.

For a moment she had the most peculiar feeling as a rush of tingles spread outwards from her hands and radiated through her body. She wondered if it was a delayed reaction to the accident, but she did not think so. The sensation, whilst being unsettling, was not painful. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was strangely pleasurable. But what was it? It was certainly like nothing she had ever felt before. For some reason it had started when he had put his arms around her . . .

Reminded of the liberty he had taken she said, ‘I don’t need your help,’ completely ignoring the fact she had berated him for the lack of it a few minutes earlier.

‘You’ll never get your bike out of the mud without it,’ he said.

‘Oh no?’ she enquired, shrugging him off and giving another tug on the handlebars.

But again the bicycle refused to move.

His arms came round her again, and she pushed him away. ‘When I need your help, I’ll ask for it,’ she said.

He gave a mocking smile, but nevertheless he stood back.

She was aware of his laughing eyes lingering on her as she struggled with the bicycle and felt herself growing hot and flustered. It was obvious she couldn’t manage, and yet she would rather leave her bicycle in the pond and squelch her way home dripping water all the way than ask him for anything.

He watched her for another minute, then said, laughing, ‘It’s no good. I can’t stand by and watch you wrestle with it any longer. Like it or not —’

‘No,’ she snapped. Then, realizing she had sounded churlish, she added ungraciously, ‘There is no point in you getting dirty as well.’

There was a sudden silence. From nowhere a cold wind sprang up and blew over the pond.

Then, ‘I’ve been dirtier,’ he said.

She did not know how it was, but it was as if her words had unleashed a sudden bitterness in him; as though they had somehow opened an old wound she could not possible understand. But it was gone as quickly as it had arrived.

‘Wait at the side of the pond,’ he commanded, wading into the water again. ‘That way I don’t have to worry about splashing you.’

‘It’s a pity you weren’t so concerned about splashing me when you raced through the village,’ she returned, looking down at her ruined cycling clothes. ‘You drivers have no idea how to behave in the countryside. You career along with no concern for anyone else. But I suppose I should be thankful. At