The Rapunzel Dilemma Read online

  Their kissing intensified and she gave herself up to the magic of his lips and the sweet sensuality of his tongue. His shirt rode up under her clutching hands and she felt his skin under her palms. He was delicious to the touch and she smoothed her fingers down his back until they slid beneath his waistband.

  Instantly, Ronan rolled off her and sat up. ‘We should go,’ he said, his breath coming in uneven gasps. ‘Before we –’

  ‘Do something we’d regret?’ finished Lily.

  ‘Run out of time to get to Dover,’ said Ronan firmly, his eyebrows looking darker and more dangerous than ever. ‘Besides, we’re in a church.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Lily regretfully. She kissed him lightly on the lips. ‘Thank you for showing me your special place, Ronan and for – for –’

  ‘For?’

  ‘Trusting me,’ said Lily.

  CHAPTER 32

  They got back on the bike and it seemed to Lily like no time at all before they breasted a hill and saw the sea in the distance. The sun glittered on the water and she joined Ronan in a triumphant cheer as he put on a brief burst of speed down the slope.

  They were in a country lane with high hedgerows on either side and, as they rounded the bend at the bottom of the hill, Lily heard Ronan say, ‘Damn!’

  She looked over his shoulder and instantly tightened her grip.

  Because in the middle of the lane was a cow.

  A very large cow.

  Its huge brown rump was almost touching the hedge on one side of the narrow road, while its nose was buried deep in the long grass that grew on the sloping bank opposite.

  At the sound of the motorbike, the cow lifted its head. It looked mildly surprised to see them but, instead of moving out of the way, it just stood there chewing its cud.

  Ronan touched the brakes, but even Lily could see there wasn’t enough room to stop.

  They were going to hit the cow and it was going to be awful.

  And then Ronan turned the motorbike towards the hedge.

  Lily saw the scene as if in slow motion, but in reality everything happened so fast she barely had time to think. She heard Ronan yell, ‘Hold tight!’ before he gunned the engine and pulled the handlebars to the left. The motorcycle turned just in time, narrowly missing the cow’s flank (Lily was sure she felt its tail flick her cheek). Ronan drove the bike up the bank and through the hole the huge animal had made in the hedge in its quest for greener grass.

  She felt the bike leave the ground and Ronan lift off the seat. A moment later she followed him and, for a split second, she, Ronan and the bike, hung suspended in mid-air, before she saw the green grass of a field rushing up to meet them. The bike’s front wheel hit the ground first, Ronan landed back in his seat, miraculously still holding the handlebars, before Lily dropped sideways onto the pillion seat behind him.

  Perhaps it was that which unbalanced him, or maybe it was the sudden change from green field to muddy bank, but suddenly the bike was wobbling and ahead of them Lily could see water.

  Ronan cried out, ‘Jump!’ as the bike began skidding sideways. Incredibly, Lily’s foot found the foot peg; she pushed off and a moment later was flying through the air. She braced for the landing and was almost pleasantly surprised to hit water instead of hard, muddy ground. The water closed over her head for a second before she was on her feet, gasping and spluttering, just in time to see Ronan slide into the duck pond, the motorcycle following him into the shallows.

  He rolled twice and disappeared beneath the surface.

  Lily cried, ‘Ronan!’ and began wading as quickly as she could towards him.

  Before she’d gone two yards, he burst upwards, the water pouring from his leathers. He staggered slightly and perhaps it was that, or the shock of the narrow escape, or simply the sight of Ronan with waterweed in his long black hair, that set Lily laughing, but as she scrambled from the water she started to giggle and by the time she’d collapsed onto the stretch of muddy grass beside the duck pond she was in fits.

  ‘If – if you c–could only s–see yourself!’ she said, clutching her sides as Ronan strode from the pond. ‘You look exactly like the Monster from the Deep!’

  Ronan flashed her a grin. ‘Well, at least it was a soft landing. Are you okay?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Lily. ‘No bones broken, anyway.’

  ‘Great. Let’s hope the bike survived, too.’ He looked across to where his motorcycle lay with its wheels submerged and Lily saw his smile fade.

  She scrambled to her feet and helped him drag the motor­cycle from the pond. ‘Will it be okay?’ she asked as they righted it.

  ‘Not sure,’ replied Ronan, looking around. Lily followed his gaze and saw that they were on the edge of a small village. On the other side of the pond was a grassy open space with a playground and picnic tables. Beyond it, she could see several buildings.

  ‘Maybe there’s a gas station over there,’ she suggested.

  ‘Maybe,’ agreed Ronan. ‘Let’s go see.’

  Squelching as he moved, he pushed the bike across the green. Lily followed, carrying their helmets. On the other side of the green they met a woman who told them that the nearest service station was in the next town, some five miles away.

  ‘But old Joe Boyle might be able to help you,’ she said after they explained about the bike. ‘A great one for engines, is Joe. You’ll find his cottage next door to the White Hart Inn. Down there.’ She pointed down the main street to where Lily could see an attractive building with a thatched roof.

  Fortunately they found Joe home and eager to help. ‘That old cow,’ he said. ‘You ain’t the first to come a cropper with her in that lane there. I’ve told George Millington a thousand times he needs to keep her in his home field, but he never listens to folks’ advice, does George.’ He bent down and inspected the bike. ‘First thing we need to do is let her dry out. Then we’ll see what we can do to get you two young ’uns on the road again.’

  Ronan gestured to Lily. ‘My friend needs to get out of her wet things. Do you reckon they’d let her shower and change at the White Hart?’

  Joe nodded. ‘My niece, Molly, runs the ’otel and the restaurant. You two come along with me and she’ll sort you out.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Ronan. ‘But if Lily could get dry –’

  ‘You’re just as wet as me,’ objected Lily. ‘And you can’t possibly be comfortable in wet leathers. It feels like being encased in cement.’

  ‘I need to help with the bike,’ began Ronan, but Joe cut him off.

  ‘Now then, young fella, you just leave your bike to me. I had a Harley a bit like this one when Maggie Thatcher was prime minister, so I know what I’m about. Besides, I’ll get on a lot faster if I don’t have you watching over me like a mother hen.’

  And before Ronan could argue, Joe had shepherded them out the cottage gate and into the White Hart Inn.

  His niece turned out to be an energetic woman in her early forties, who took charge the moment Joe had explained about the bike and the duck pond.

  ‘Drat George Millington and his wandering cow!’ she exclaimed. ‘I should go straight down to his farm and sort him out!’

  ‘Now then, Molly, we need to be seeing to these young people first,’ said her uncle calmly. ‘I’m thinking mebbe they could take a shower and then p’raps a bite to eat in the restaurant.’

  ‘The shower we can do,’ said Molly, ‘but I’m afraid the restaurant’s full. We’ve had that many daytrippers in for the new menu.’ She beamed at them. ‘Since my husband’s taken over as chef we’ve become quite famous in these parts.’

  Joe snorted. ‘You’re too modest, Molly-girl.’ He turned to Lily. ‘Fact is, last year Molly upped and married a frog – a Frenchman, you understand – not usually my cup of tea, but there’s no denying he can cook.’

  ‘If you don’t mind eating at one of the outside tables, I can have Gus bring you some soup and one of his homemade pies.’

  ‘That would be lovely
,’ said Lily, her teeth beginning to chatter.

  ‘Goodness, here I am talking nineteen to the dozen when you should be in a nice hot shower. Come along now and I’ll show you where you can get fixed up.’ Molly herded them down the carpeted hallway, stopping only to pull a pile of thick white towels from a cupboard, before escorting them to a pair of bathrooms, one on either side of the hall. ‘There you go, dear,’ she said, giving Lily a towel and pushing open the door. ‘Come to reception as soon as you’re done and I’ll have a nice hot bowl of Gus’s best soup ready for you in two shakes.’

  Lily thanked her and went meekly into the bathroom. The last thing she heard was Molly overcoming all Ronan’s protests and threatening to tell ‘Uncle Joe to go slow on fixing his motorcycle’ if he didn’t get out of his wet things and into the shower.

  It felt wonderful to get out of her sodden leathers and under the hot water. Luckily the bike’s storage compartment had stayed dry and Lily had grabbed her jeans and shirt before heading to the inn. As soon as she was dressed, she went looking for Ronan. She suspected his shower would’ve been of the short variety and he’d probably headed back to Joe’s before she’d even dried her hair.

  She hurried down the hall and was heading for the exit door when a woman’s voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

  ‘– a perfect meal. The consommé was just as I remember, but the sauce for the duck was something new and quite delicious. I am convinced it is Gustave’s marriage to you that has inspired him to these new heights of culinary excellence.’

  The woman had her back to Lily, but there was no mistaking the erect posture or the tilt of that graceful head.

  Lily stood frozen to the spot, hoping not to be noticed, as Molly said, ‘Well, thank you, Madame. You know Gus always likes to do something extra special when he knows you are coming to see us.’

  Lily chanced a step towards the exit and Molly’s attention was caught. ‘Oh, there you are, Lily. Ready for that soup now? I’ll go and tell Gus. Would you excuse me, Madame?’ And, before either of them could say a word, Molly had disappeared into the restaurant.

  Lily felt her heart pound as the guest turned to face her, a look of profound surprise on her face. ‘Lily? Whatever are you doing here? Did you come to meet me? But surely Mrs Wilson gave you my message? I said I would pick you up from the Academy at three.’

  Lily stared open-mouthed at the elegant figure and, as surely as she’d ever known anything in her life, she knew she was in trouble.

  Big trouble.

  Because standing by the reception desk was her grandmother.

  CHAPTER 33

  ‘Lily? However did you get here? Did you come by bus?’ The Comtesse de Tourney was clearly puzzled to find her granddaughter in a country inn. ‘Did you know I was lunching here?’

  ‘G–g–grandmama! N–no, I didn’t know you were here – but I’m glad to see you – that is – I –’ Lily gulped some air and tried to speak calmly. ‘Are you going to London?’

  ‘Did you not receive my letter?’ asked the Comtesse. ‘Or my telephone message?’

  ‘N–no, I’m afraid not.’ Lily gave her grandmother a quick hug. ‘I wish I’d known you were coming to England, I’d have made sure I was here to meet you. Not here, of course, but in London – if that’s what you wanted. I didn’t know you’d be here, of course, but it’s lovely to see you, Grandmama. Did you come for the food? I believe it’s very famous.’

  Lily knew she was babbling, but she had no idea how to even begin to tell the Comtesse how she came to be at the White Hart, never mind explain about Ronan. If he would only stay at Joe’s, Lily might be able to get a message to him through Molly and he could stay out of sight until her grandmother had gone.

  The Comtesse regarded her thoughtfully. ‘As I explained in my letter, I have been planning a visit to England for some time. I have several old friends to see, one of whom is Gustave. He was chef at our villa at Cap Ferrat. Before your time,’ she added dryly. ‘When Angel told me she’d had to cancel her weekend with you, I decided to come earlier than I had originally planned and take you out. But none of this explains what you are doing here. You say you did not come to meet me?’

  ‘No – you see –’ Lily’s explanation was cut short by a cheerful shout.

  ‘Hey, Rapunzel!’

  Stifling a groan, Lily turned to see Ronan practically waltzing down the hall clad in nothing but a bath towel. It clung to his body and she wasn’t surprised to hear the Comtesse’s sudden intake of breath at the sight of the superbly defined sixpack outlined by the smooth, tanned skin above his navel.

  And it wasn’t only Ronan’s stomach that was firm and muscled. His towel (Did he use the bath mat by accident? wondered Lily foolishly) ended at mid-thigh and it seemed to her as though his leg muscles had been formed by a master sculptor.

  Her cheeks burned hot at the thought and she tried to think of something to say. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what her grandmother was thinking and, for a split second, Lily considered pretending not to see him in the hope that he might take the hint and just keep on walking.

  I wish, thought Lily, before her brain contradicted her. No, I don’t wish.

  Okay, so her grandmother had turned up unexpectedly from Paris and found her in a hotel hallway being greeted by a guy wearing nothing but a bath towel. But it looked much worse than it really was. All she needed was a chance to explain.

  Once Grandmama had met Ronan and got to know him, Lily was sure everything would be fine. For a split-second she imagined the three of them sitting in the restaurant drinking tea and eating seed-cake and English muffins, and laughing about their unlucky adventure.

  But it was only for a second.

  ‘I forgot my clothes,’ said Ronan, breaking the silence. ‘Do you reckon you could grab ’em for me, Lily?’

  ‘Uh . . . sure . . . I can.’

  ‘Stay where you are,’ commanded the Comtesse, stopping Lily in mid-step.

  Ronan looked at her enquiringly, while Lily, her brain alternating between fear and embarrassment, forced herself to speak. ‘Uh, Grandmama, I – I’d like you to meet a friend of mine –’

  She broke off as Ronan’s towel slipped below his hip, revealing a red-and-green snake tattoo that was startlingly familiar.

  ‘Oh!’ gasped Lily and thought she heard a faint echoing gasp from the Comtesse. She chanced a sideways glance at her and was astonished to see her grandmother’s eyes fixed on the tattoo.

  After a second, the Comtesse lifted her head and gazed coldly at Ronan. ‘A friend?’ she repeated. ‘And does your friend have a name?’ she demanded.

  Ronan instantly stepped forward and held out his hand (Lily was relieved to see his other hand firmly holding his towel). ‘Good afternoon,’ he said, meeting the Comtesse’s icy stare and standing as tall as if he were wearing evening clothes. ‘I’m Ronan Carver, a friend of Lily’s.’

  ‘Indeed?’ replied the Comtesse, ignoring his outstretched hand. ‘And are you, what I believe is called, “a friend with benefits”?’

  ‘Grandmama!’ cried Lily, blushing fierily. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say! Ronan –’

  ‘Mr Carver is in an out-of-the-way hotel with my sixteen-year-old granddaughter,’ interjected the Comtesse in what Lily had always thought of as her guillotine voice: just one syllable had the ability to slice through the most confident utterance. ‘He is nearly naked, undeniably handsome, and a total stranger to me. And, I suspect, to your father.’

  Lily waited for Ronan to dissolve into a puddle before her eyes, but he just stood there, apparently impervious to her grandmother’s powers.

  After a moment he dropped his hand, bowed slightly and said calmly, ‘You are right about one thing, señora. I am a stranger to you, but –’

  ‘Spanish, are you?’ interrupted the Comtesse, looking at him as if he’d just crawled out from under the nearest rock.

  ‘Half Spanish, half Irish,’ replied Ronan coolly.

  ‘Well, I
am not “señora”,’ declared her grandmother. ‘I am the Comtesse de Tourney and I should like to know who gave you permission to bring my granddaughter to –’ she waved an imperious hand, ‘this hotel!’

  Ronan frowned and, with a sinking heart, Lily saw the beginnings of his glowering look. ‘I had permission from the only person who needed to give it. I had it from Lily.’ A tight-lipped smile touched his lips and he stood even straighter. ‘Had I known your name, señora,’ added Ronan, emphasising the title with icy politeness, ‘I would have called you by it. Unfortunately, we have not yet been formally introduced and so, out of respect for your age, I call you “señora”, exactly as my mother taught me.’

  ‘And did your mother also teach you to behave like a young Lothario and seduce my granddaughter?’ snapped the Comtesse, her eyes sparkling dangerously.

  ‘Grandmama!’ cried Lily, aghast. ‘Please, it’s not like that! You don’t underst–’

  ‘Thank you, Lily. I understand perfectly. This young man has outstayed his welcome and is about to leave.’

  Lily saw the anger kindling in Ronan’s eyes and hastily interceded. ‘It’s okay, Ronan, I can explain.’ She turned to the Comtesse. ‘Ronan was just being kind, Grandmama. My first public critique with Arathula Dane was kind of rough and he figured I could use some time away from the Academy. So when Angel had to cancel our weekend together, he offered to take me out and I –’

  Her voice trailed away beneath the Comtesse’s haughty stare. ‘If you had received my telephone message, Lily, you would know that I had arranged to come in Angel’s stead.’

  ‘I honestly didn’t get it, Grandmama.’

  ‘Which is regrettable but,’ the Comtesse looked at her watch, ‘not of the least consequence now that I have found you here. Indeed, one might that say our meeting is almost serendipitous, given that it is not yet two o’clock and we still have plenty of time to get to London. Henri is outside with the car, so if you have your things we can go.’