Love By Moonlight: A Small Town Grumpy Sunshine Romance (Solhaven Forevers Book 2)

Daniel was in the kitchen, competently preparing a sauce for the packet of dried pasta that lay on the work surface next to the cooker. The smell of tomato and garlic was fragrant and appetising.

Doctor Tranter stood in the doorway and watched in silence for a few moments as Daniel finished chopping some herbs, which he then added to the pan.

‘Thanks for agreeing to let her stay here,’ the doctor said quietly when Daniel had finished his task.

Daniel looked up. ‘It’s the least I can do, given the circumstances.’

‘Perhaps.’ The doctor was noncommittal, although his was gaze questioning as he stepped forwards. ‘Mmm, smells good. May I try a bit?’

Daniel silently passed over a clean spoon, and Dr Tranter took a small sample from the pan, blowing on it to cool it down before tasting.

‘Delicious. Anyway, back to you letting Claire stay… I’ll repeat my thanks. It’s good of you to do it.’

‘Yeah, okay. As I said, she’s given up her cottage for me, and if she dislikes hospital so much, it won’t hurt me to have her here.’

Brave words. Daniel only hoped he wouldn’t regret them. While his mind was clear about not wanting an entanglement, he wasn’t sure his body would comply. He’d enjoyed being with Claire and the rest of her family yesterday and only hoped the two of them could continue to get on as friends while she was here. Anyway, there was a lot more to find out about her, and the garden plans to look at. Everything would be okay. It would. He was sure of it.

Full of determination, Daniel raked a hand through his thick, wind-tossed hair and leaned back against the work surface, arms folded across his chest. ‘I promise I’ll look after Claire while she’s unwell, and then tomorrow she can probably return to the hostel, right?’

‘Yes, she should be well enough by then to be on her own.’

‘Okay. Consider it done.’ Nothing much could happen in that time.

A silence fell in the kitchen, broken only by the soft simmering of the pan and the cry of the seagulls wheeling in the cloud-flecked sky beyond the window.

The doctor moved to the door. ‘Well, everything should be fine, but if you’re worried, phone the surgery. I’ll call in again tomorrow. Probably around four, for a last check before clearing her to go home. Will you be around?’

‘I will. Goodbye, Doctor Tranter.’ Daniel held the door open for him and watched as the doctor walked away, and with a brief wave, disappeared round the corner.

Slowly closing the door, he went back into the kitchen and leaned on the counter. And now? He shrugged. It was easy. He ministered to Claire in her hour of need, enjoyed getting to know her a bit better as a friend, and then, as he’d told the doctor, she returned to her hostel room, and he remained heart-whole and unscathed.

Why, then, did he feel so uncertain?

During the morning, Daniel looked in on Claire three times, and each time she was sleeping, silky lashes fanned onto her flushed cheeks, hair tumbled on the cushions, the dressing on her forehead sharply white against her creamy skin.

Daniel leaned over the settee and whispered her name, and each time she stirred, a slight smile touching her full mouth, her fingers moving in response to his voice.

The third time he visited, he took her slim fingers in his own strong, brown ones, stroking his thumb across the back of her hand. A deep tenderness filled him, almost like a pain, even as his mind protested at his actions. Her fingers tightened trustingly round his and pulled his hand against her cheek. He felt the warm softness of her skin against his and left his hand where it was. She seemed so vulnerable, lying there. It soothed his aching heart to give way to the tenderness just for a moment, even as he wished it could be all the time.

Hardly daring to move, he stood for some moments, imagining what it might be like to be her lover, feeling his body stirring to passion under him. He bent and softly brushed his lips across her forehead. One day. One day when he’d got over all his shit, maybe he could come back.

A soft exclamation of distress broke from him, and he pulled his hand gently away, turning from the bed and striding to the door. He might be tired of his self-imposed refusal to get involved emotionally again, but it was for the best. At least it spared him the possibility of further hurt, and definitely spared Claire.

A sound made him turn. Claire was looking at him, eyes wide. He halted his precipitous exit and walked reluctantly back to the bed, willing the pounding of his heart to slow, pushing his trembling hands into the pockets of his jeans, hoping his slight erection would rapidly die down.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, careful to keep his face blank, hoping she’d been unaware of his gentle caress.

‘All right, thank you. What’s the time?’

‘Gone two. Are you hungry?’

‘Oh, yes!’ Claire sat up, then winced, raising a hand to her forehead, eyes momentarily closing.

Taking a step forward, Daniel worried she might faint again, or some other problem might crop up, although the doctor had seemed happy enough to leave her in his care. To him, she looked far too pale, and he half-turned, thinking it would do no harm to ring the surgery to check.

While he was dithering, feeling anxious, her eyes re-opened. ‘I didn’t have breakfast, remember?’ Her face shadowed, and he knew she was thinking about her fall.

The tension seeped from his body and his stomach calmed. The relief was considerable. He would’ve hated for her to get worse. Food. Of course, that was why she looked pale. ‘I’ll bring you a sandwich. I’ve made some pasta for tonight so I don’t want you spoiling your appetite.’ Daniel’s voice was even, and a slight smile touched his mouth.

Claire looked at him, but he couldn’t make out her expression. Maybe cautious? Understandable, with them having to share the cottage for a couple of days. He felt cautious, too.

Abruptly, she dropped her eyes and threw back the duvet. ‘I don’t need you to bring me anything,’ Claire announced. ‘I’m getting up.’

She swung her feet to the floor and stood up just as Daniel moved closer.

‘Wait!’ he exclaimed. ‘Take it slowly.’

‘Ohhh!’ Claire staggered under the onslaught of what appeared to be a wave of dizziness.

She put out a hand blindly, feeling for the settee, and fell against Daniel, who curved his arms protectively round her. For a moment he stood immobile, allowing her body, pliant and warm, to rest against his, her hair sweet to smell. Before he realised what he was doing, his lips touched her forehead with a featherlight kiss, barely discernible.

Fuck! A disconcerting mix of past and present feelings—bitterness and rage paired with tender hope and blooming attraction—swirled wildly through him. If his legs didn’t buckle under the pressure, his chest might cave in. Hate women or love Claire? He fought to draw in a steadying breath.

With a terrific effort of will, he pulled away from her and dropped his hands. ‘Sorry… I’m sorry,’ he muttered. ‘Are you okay now?’

His arms felt strangely empty as they fell to his sides.

‘Yes, yes, I’m all right.’ She moved forward carefully. ‘See? I’m doing well.’

They went outside onto the patio with its sweeping view across the bay, and Daniel brought out the sandwiches he’d made for her.

‘I ate earlier,’ he said. ‘I’ve been sketching.’ He gestured to the wall encircling the patio and Claire noticed for the first time a large pad of paper and some pastels resting on the stones. She walked over to look at his work.

In a few perfect strokes, he’d captured the impression, the essence, of the bay, inferring the sun dancing on the waves, the ruggedness of the rock contrasted with the smooth, wet sands, and the movement of gulls and fleeting clouds in the sky.

Claire drew in her breath sharply as she stood in silent contemplation.

After a few moments, Daniel stood and took a step towards her. ‘Claire?’

She spun to face him.

‘I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to startle you, but you went rather quiet?’

‘Your painting…’ she gestured to the piece of work so carelessly flung down on the wall top, done in a sketchbook, never intended to be a formal piece. ‘I realise now… I understand what level my talent is. You saw my painting this morning,’ she finished sadly, dropping into a chair and staring sightlessly out across the sea. ‘It was my best, I think.’

He was silent for a long time, sitting on the wall with his back to the magnificent view he’d caught so carelessly on paper. Finally, he sighed and stood, coming to join her in another of the chairs set round the small patio table.

‘Your painting wasn’t too bad.’ He paused awkwardly. ‘Many people would envy you your skills, and you’ll always find a market for your work. That’s quite an achievement. There aren’t many artists who make the big time, you know. Most are on your level.’

‘Thanks. Just as well it’s only a hobby.’ Claire shrugged then chose one of the sandwiches, biting into it with evident hunger.

‘Emily stopped off at the kitchen gardens and we picked up the Victorian plans. I’d love it if we could look this afternoon and you could talk me through what you hope to achieve.’

‘Ha! Might take this afternoon and the rest of the week.’

‘I’m interested,’ Daniel responded mildly. ‘But I’m no expert, so keep it to words of two syllables, okay?’

Claire gave a half smile and picked up another sandwich.

Good. If she had an appetite, she was well on the road to recovery.

‘You mentioned America a couple of times. What are you going for?’

‘Oh, it’s been arranged for some time. I’m doing some teaching, some demos, and going on a coastal painting trip with some American artists at the end of the academic year. I leave in September, and I’ll be back at the end of August the following year.’

‘Whoa! Some trip.’

‘It should be interesting,’ Daniel conceded, a slight smile on his lips. ‘And I certainly feel very honoured they’ve asked.’

‘Do you plan to come home in-between terms?’

He shook his head. ‘They’ve booked me up with all sorts of things, so no. No time.’

Claire looked thoughtful, then she shook her head and smiled at him brightly. ‘The plans,’ she said. ‘But before we do, I’d like to go for a bit of a walk. I feel stiff and if I move, I should loosen up.’

‘Do you think you ought?’ While he understood her need to move, her injuries were so new. What if they reopened? What if she fainted again?

‘I’ll only go as far as the rock.’ She pointed to the large rock not that far away, a magnet for all the children, a challenge for them to climb. ‘You’ll be able to watch me to make sure I’m okay.’

‘Your day-dreaming rock?’

She stared at him, a smile curling her lips. ‘You remembered!’

‘Well, it was rather pertinent to the discussion at the time, lending me your beloved cottage.’

‘Indeed it was,’ she murmured thoughtfully, and then without waiting for his leave, she crossed the flagstones and went out of the gate. Watching as she walked over the firm sand and leaned on the rock, gazing out at the sea, he noticed the droop to her shoulders and guessed she wasn’t as well as she’d have him believe. Maybe they better postpone those plans until tomorrow?

It amazed him she’d still not mentioned her injuries, had not claimed the accident caused her any distress. No doubt she would, eventually, though. Most women would, under the circumstances. It was too good an opportunity for her to gain his sympathy. His lips twisted, and he picked up his pad, only to be confounded minutes later when he realised he’d sketched her figure into his landscape, somehow capturing a lonely desolation to her pose with a sympathy he didn’t know he still possessed.

Daniel stared at her, his pencil stilled. Claire would be easy to love. He already felt an unwilling sexual attraction, but there was more than that. He admired her for changing careers, and her calm sweetness of character, and the way she’d just accepted her injuries. Shaking his head, he sighed. This wasn’t the route he wanted to follow. He had to step back. He wasn’t ready.

The pencil and pad fell unheeded as he stood, raking a hand through his hair. Wasn’t ready, or wouldn’t allow himself to be ready? The thought sent shockwaves through him.

He watched her as she began the short walk back.

‘See? Safely back.’

Daniel gave a half-smile. ‘Good. Feel better for moving?’

‘Yeah, I think so.’

‘Do you feel up to looking at the plans or shall we leave it until tomorrow? Depends on your energy levels.’

‘I’m good, honestly. Better for some lunch and the walk. Where did you put them?’

‘In the sitting-room. Will we be all right out here?’

‘Not much wind. Should be fine. Tell you what—you make some coffee, and I’ll get the plans.’

Within ten minutes they were poring over the old Victorian plans as Claire enthusiastically explained what was still in place and what would need restoring.

‘It’s going to take you years,’ Daniel sat back and looked at her admiringly.

The time had flown as they’d talked and pointed and he’d asked questions, and the enormity of the restoration had finally sunk in.

‘Yes, but there’s all the day-to-day gardening to do as well, and it would be great if we could get some vegetables growing. I’ve already planted a few late crops, but hopefully next year I can do a lot more. Certainly, there’s plenty to do. I’ll advertise for a second gardener once I’m more confident of how I want to move forward, and we might still need the contractors as well.’

‘Contractors?’

‘For lawn mowing, hedge cutting—stuff like that. Come on, that’s way enough about me and my plans, though. You told me a bit about your painting methods yesterday, but there’s more I want to know. Like is it enough for you as a career? It must be incredible, just painting all the time.’

Daniel’s eyes sought the rock where, minutes before, he’d watched Claire and sketched her into his picture before he looked back at her, a grin on his face. ‘Pretty incredible just being out in the garden all the time, too, wouldn’t you say?’

Returning his smile, Claire nodded. ‘Yeah, okay. Touché.’

‘I suppose I’m lucky,’ he admitted. ‘I love painting and the freedom it gives me, and there’s no need for me to agonise which direction to take. It’s there, clearly in front of me, driving me. It’s almost a compulsion, but I love it.’ He was silent for a while before restlessly getting to his feet and pacing to the wall, picking up his sketchbook, the delicate pastel glowing in the afternoon sun like a jewel. ‘You know yourself how you find a subject and decide which angle you want to approach it from, which medium you want to use—’

‘I only ever use watercolours.’

Daniel smiled and placed the sketchpad on top of the file of plans for the garden. ‘Fair enough. I use different ones and sometimes I’ll do the same painting in oils, then pastel. Some scenes give you no choice—they know what medium they want to be painted in, but others give you more freedom.’

A companionable silence fell. Daniel watched Claire as she drank in the scenery, wincing on her behalf when she absentmindedly touched the dressing on her head.

‘Tell me more about yourself,’ he suggested abruptly. ‘I know what your brother did, and does now. I even know about Emily, but I know nothing about you other than your passion for gardening. Do you like music? What kind? What books do you read? Are you interested in travelling?’

He wanted to know what she liked to do, where she enjoyed going, everything.

‘That’s a tall order,’ Claire said with a laugh. ‘To tell you everything. Still,’ she shrugged, ‘we haven’t much else to do now we’ve looked at the plans.’

They talked easily for the rest of the afternoon, then they ate the pasta Daniel had prepared, staying out on the patio and enjoying the pleasant evening, watching the sun sink below the distant horizon, leaving a glittering trail of fire across the gently shifting waves.

‘It’s amazing,’ Claire said idly, eyes narrowed against the red and gold path. ‘This sea…. it never ceases to fascinate me. Like this, so tame, so beautiful. But in winter, it can be awful down here. I don’t know what it will be like in Gardener’s Cottage then.’

‘Mmm. I’d wondered about that.’ He gestured to where the tide lapped gently at the rocks immediately below them. ‘It’s a wonderful setting, though.’ He inhaled deeply. Wine. Warm salt air. Seaweed. Her perfume.

‘I know. I love this place.’

They both fell silent, letting the tranquil sound of the shushing waves lull them. Somehow, with the sea and the glorious sunset, it was easy to forget past pain, allowing softer feelings to creep in, feelings which subtly entrenched themselves into his heart. Was this the healing the counsellor had talked about? He’d warned Daniel he wouldn’t wake up one morning and suddenly be over it, but it would be a gradual process. A happy moment here, appreciating a woman’s company there. Such moments would increase over time until Gina was a mere shadow in his past. That, Daniel could accept, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever forget his baby, though.

During the evening, they’d found they shared interests in certain books and music, but about personal matters Daniel remained silent. When Claire tried to find out about his emotional commitments, his face had darkened and he’d changed the subject sharply. Wisely, she’d taken the hint and steered the conversation back to safer topics.

‘Well,’ Claire eventually said with false brightness, draining the last of her wine, ‘I think I’ll go to bed now.’ She gave him a small smile and turned, disappearing through the door without waiting for a reply.

She took the warmth of the day with her, the light too, leaving him alone and unhappy.

He should feel relieved she’d left, taking the danger of her presence with her, but he felt disappointed. It was an abrupt end to their lovely evening. His encounters with Claire had challenged his determination to remain unattached. She was steadfast, eternally kind, sweet, loving. His list could probably continue. But he still feared the next step, which meant trusting again. Eyes clouded with doubt, he remained on the patio for a long time, gazing across the swiftly darkening sky, regretting the impulse that had caused him to agree to let her stay with him. He’d known at the time it would be a dangerous thing to do, and the day’s events had proved him right. All he could think of was that upstairs, someone he now liked and admired lay in bed, and it would be interesting to take things further. His thoughts were enough to make his body restless and his jeans unpleasantly tight. Too damned long without fucking a woman. It was no wonder she was making his lust rise. Not a lot he could do about it, though. Oh, hell! This mental merry-go-round was exhausting.

He checked on Claire before eventually retiring to bed, where he slept fitfully, disturbed by erotic dreams which centred round the bright loveliness of her. He woke around three in the morning, finding himself still hard and ill at ease. He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. Normally he might have relieved his sexual tension, but it seemed distasteful, with Claire lying only feet away, even if she was on the other side of a wall.

What would happen if he went into her bedroom, suggested they made love?

Surely, he’d learned his lesson? Surely, he’d been hurt enough not to be foolish and risk all the pain again? Claire wasn’t someone up for a one-night screw. She’d want more. Long term. He wasn’t going to do long term ever again.

Striding to the window, Daniel pulled aside the curtain to look out at the shifting waters of the bay. His own feelings shifted, from resentment to longing for an end to this conflict. One thing was sure, he wouldn’t get to sleep again. It was nearly time to check on Claire, anyway. He’d set his alarm for four o’clock.

Pulling on jeans, he drifted downstairs and made himself some coffee before moving outside onto the patio to drink it. The night was cool and still, the sky completely clear and the full moon of the last night or two now looked noticeably lop-sided as it waned. It was still enough to cast a bright light over the scene, causing sharp shadows where the rocks stood on the sand. The tide was on the turn, and the gentle sound of the waves was soothing. He rested one foot on the low wall, leaning his forearm on his thigh as he gazed sightlessly over the incoming water.

There was only today to get through. Later, he could send Claire back up to the hotel because the doctor had said she’d be okay by then. He could manage today. He could paint for most of it. She wouldn’t need him to stay close. He shook his head in exasperation, raising his mug, drinking deeply. Right. He would check on Claire, go back to bed and later on, he’d prepare a canvas on which to paint the bay scene sketched out yesterday. With Claire leaning on her rock.

He turned to go back inside before pausing, his head on one side, hearing something above the suck and flow of the waves on the beach. The window above his head was a casement, open to the night air.

The small bedroom. Claire’s window. And she was crying.

Softly, he had to admit, and if he’d still been in his room, with the bathroom in between, he doubted he’d have heard her.

In seconds, he was outside her door. He knocked softly. ‘Claire?’

A sudden silence fell within the room, broken by the occasional soft gulp of distress she couldn’t suppress.

‘Claire?’

She clearly realised he wasn’t going away. ‘Y-yes?’

‘What’s wrong? May I come in?’

‘N-no. No. There’s nothing wrong. You just woke me up, that’s all. Thank you, Daniel, but go back to bed.’

Liar, he thought, but he turned with relief away from the door. Then, knowing he couldn’t leave her, he turned back. She was hurting, and he had an overwhelming desire to comfort her. He pushed other thoughts to the back of his mind. She sounded in no state to have him try anything else, and nor, he realised in surprise, did he want to. He simply wanted to hold her until the tears stopped.

Other than the moonlight filtering in through the curtains, darkness shadowed the room. It gave enough light for him to see Claire, lying on her front, her face pressed into the pillow as she tried to smother the sound of her crying. He approached the bed silently on bare feet.

He touched her shoulder, and she jumped, twisted a face so miserable towards him he never hesitated. He dropped onto the bed and turned her round, gathering her to him as he’d longed to do since he’d found her, dusty and blood-stained, at his feet yesterday morning. Rocking her in his arms, warmth flowed through him, melting more of the ice around his heart as he sought to comfort her.

It felt right for the comforting to change to kisses on her eyes, her cheeks, her lips, and his caring hands to change, and become instead seeking hands that stroked and caressed her.

If she’d recoiled, pushed him away, turned her face to the side, it wouldn’t have surprised him, but the opposite happened, and her arms pulled him closer, returning his kisses with such feeling it surprised him, even as he allowed himself to be engulfed by her, swept along in a torrent that shook him to his core. Moving his hands on her face, he cupped her jaw, lightly stroking back the hair, tumbling round her shoulders.

Murmuring her name, Daniel rolled on top of her, his mouth seeking, his hands moving to touch her breasts, his erection pressing into her softness. She arched her body under his, her hands plucking in frustration at the denim of his jeans. Raising his head, his vision cloudy, he eased upright, kneeling over her, his hands replacing hers as he reached for his zip.

His actions slammed into his mind and his head jerked up, his eyes clearing, seeing everything in stark clarity. He froze. What the fuck was he trying to do?