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He opens and shuts doors, showing a spare bedroom made up with twin beds, and a bathroom with a clawfoot bath and a large walk-in shower tiled with jewel-green subway tiles. Blue gives it a quick once-over and then heads for the last door. I follow him in and whistle.

“This must be the master bedroom.”

He winks at me. “The only important room on this honeymoon.”

I laugh and look around. Beneath a beamed ceiling is a huge four-poster bed made up with white sheets, lots of pillows, and an obviously homemade patchwork quilt. The bed’s set in front of a fireplace that’s been stacked with logs. I can smell the faint apple scent from them already. I walk over to the window and find that this is the room that sits close to the garden.

“I could jump out of this bedroom window and not break anything,” I observe.

Blue rolls his eyes. “Just what every honeymooner wishes to hear.” He sits down on the bed and bounces a few times. “Firm yet soft enough to fuck me through it.”

“You should write advertising copy.”

“I think you’re the writer in our family.”

I lean against the bedpost. “Family, eh? I like that.”

He gets up and presses me against the post. “How much do you like it?”

I push against him, letting him feel my hard cock. “That much.”

He makes a moue of shock that is completely belied by his twinkling eyes. “That is a lot,” he says gravely. “Maybe I could help you with that.”

“Do you think you’ll manage to stop talking while you do it?”

He grabs my jumper and reels me in, looking up at me. “Make me,” he says softly.

Blue

I lie against Levi, listening to him breathe and feeling the soft silk of his skin against mine. It isn’t long before his breaths even out and he’s sleeping. The drive must be catching up with him, and the sex has finished him off. I wait a few more moments and then carefully and slowly pull away.

He makes a grumbling noise and smacks his lips a few times, but my husband stays out like a light. I still at the thought. Husband? Such a strange concept for someone like me, but still something I know I’ll protect for the rest of my life.

I roll gently off the mattress, grab my jeans from the floor, and pull them on. Then I open the door and venture out onto the landing. The only sound is the distant boom of the sea. I resist the urge to stop and stare at it and make my way cautiously downstairs.

The living room is empty, as is the kitchen. I stand in the centre of the room and look around curiously. When I first came in the house, I’d smelt pipe smoke immediately. I’d also felt a presence, but it’s not an active one. It’s like when you come into a room and know that someone has just exited it. The atoms have been misplaced and are settling back again.

“Hello?” I say cautiously. No one replies, and the house sits quietly.

The curtains are open and night has fallen. I walk over to the window and look out. A full moon is flying high above the dark blue of the sea, bathing the garden in a glow. Sudden movement in the border makes me tense, but I relax as I see a small rabbit edge around the shrubbery and disappear into the night.

“You scared me, little rabbit,” I say out loud.

I walk through the ground floor, opening cupboard doors and examining their contents. I relax when I find nothing. Maybe that presence I felt was just the housekeeper. Maybe they’d just left and I’d sensed that. Maybe they’re a secret pipe smoker and were having a crafty puff right before we arrived.

In the kitchen I rummage through the basket the owner left. I find a pack of biscuits that are obviously handmade. I open the wrapping and bite into one. It’s ginger, the flavour sweet and sharp on my tongue, and I make a pleased sound and take another bite.

I find the crockery in a cupboard and grab a plate. I make a little picnic from the basket’s contents—cheese and biscuits, strawberries, some small pastries, and a homemade apple cake along with a punnet of thick cream. After collecting the bottle of champagne that’s chilling in the fridge, I add champagne flutes to my haul and search for a tray.

A shadow moves across the kitchen window. I look up sharply but there’s nothing there. It must have been a branch moving in the wind. I’m starting to relax when I turn and find a man looking through the long window next to the front door. I gasp and startle, gripping the worktop to keep my balance. The man steps into the porch light and I see a smile on his face. My heart sinks. He knows I’ve seen him and now I’ll have to answer the door and make polite conversation and ruin my plans to wake up Levi for food and champagne, and then when he’s refuelled, another round of sex.

The man and I stare at each other, and I let out a long sigh because I know I can’t be rude. Levi’s had a disastrous effect on my manners. The man nods, his smile still beckoning.

“Coming.” I race over to the door and open it. “Hello,” I say. I frown. He’s no longer standing there. “Hello,” I call again, stepping outside. “Were you looking for us?”

There’s no one here. I move out onto the path, looking both ways. Did he not hear me and move to another window to get my attention? I take the path that runs around the cottage and follow the whitewashed bulk around.

I can hear the sea very loudly now. It’s hitting the rocks below, making a booming sound and occasionally a spume of water shoots up. I can taste the salt on my tongue and feel the mist dampening my jeans. I shiver and quicken my steps back to the front door.