Page 19 of Scandal Queen

“Well how about, before you put down a deposit on somewhere we might never come to again, we decide if this village really is all it’s cracked up to be?”

“Sure.” He grabbed my hand. “I’ve got good vibes though.

Crazy vibes if you asked me.

He seemed almost too carefree. A bell jingled in my brain. “You didn’t run in and pay her off before I got there did you?” I stared at him in alarm. “Oh God. You paid off the whole village yesterday, didn’t you?”

Chuckling, he pulled me into his side, sliding his arm over my shoulder, his other hand gripping Daisy’s free one. At a glance we would look like any other family out for a morning stroll.

“Family?” My voice quivered over the word.

He shot me a deep forest green glance. “Easier.”

“More rumours though.”

“Rumours don’t matter anymore, Leia. So long as we both know what we want and feel. Weren’t you the one saying that?”

I nodded. He had me there. But then my words had been bolder in the safety of the gaudy cottage. Out here they meant things. Promised things.

“Sure.”

He shot me a fleeting smile. “This is all new to me too, Leia. I’ve never shown anyone who I am before, not until I met you.”

I pondered over his words as we walked to a small and pretty pub. Vibrant hanging baskets, despite the autumn weather, hung from wrought-iron hooks and bounced slightly in the sea breeze. The Red Lion had an old-fashioned sign, that looked like it should belong on a coat of arms, and a front door so small Oliver had to stoop low to step inside. The front bar seemed empty, although a cheery fire crackled in the hearth.

We hadn’t made it to the bar before a woman—I could only assume was Louise, bustled out through a side door, a phone wedged under her ear. Buxom and wide-hipped she looked the epitome of landlady constitution—assuming you weren’t basing your landlady knowledge on characters from Eastenders. “Rightio, Sandra. I have them here.” Daisy glanced up in surprise and the woman, who looked like she’d run a marathon in a hurricane, hung up the phone.

“Now, now, don’t you worry, little one. Aunty Louise has you covered. Now if you’d just follow me, I’ve got a perfect table for you tucked just round the back here.”

She didn’t allow us to speak for ourselves, or even to look at one another as she grabbed my arm and towed me towards what looked like a small nook area. Another fire roared and the wooden rustic table sparkled with place settings for three.

Wow. The women in this village worked quick.

“Now, you’ll be out of sight here, not that we’re busy just yet. You’ve got here just before the lunch rush starts. You’ll be wanting three full breakfasts?” She pulled a small pad and a chewed biro out of her spotlessly clean apron. “Cider or tea?”

I had trouble getting my brain to work. Meeting Louise was like falling headfirst under the persistent but unstoppable approach of a steamroller.

“Cider for breakfast?” I queried.

“Goes perfectly with my sausages, my lovey.” She looked at her watch. “And it’s almost lunch now anyway.”

“Oh. Uh, okay.” Jeez, I didn’t want to mess with the woman’s sausages.

“Cider sounds wonderful.” Oliver answered for both of us.

“Okay.” I pulled a face.

“Now, have you got accommodation, or will you be needing some rooms?”

Oliver shot her a polite smile. “We have, thank you.” The spike in his tone spoke for itself.

“Oh, lovey, don’t you worry about us. Sounds like a right old hornet nest you’ve created in London. Don’t you worry though, we don’t give in for such things down here.”

He flashed her his most blinding smile, but it didn’t seem to affect her at all; the woman was a machine. “I appreciate your discretion.”

To my horror she winked. “Aye aye, lovey. I bet you do.”

She waddled off quite happy we’d given in to her suggestion of cider with her sausages. “Have you ever been called lovey before, my lovey?” I asked, straightening up the already straight knife and fork my side of the table.