Free The Healing Stream by Connie Monk Page A

himself; you know damn well she has some sort of adolescent crush on you. What he hadn’t expected was an emotion within himself, an unknown sensation. Right from the day he had first met her, often he’d found it hard to put the thought of her out of his head. It had come between him and his work, it had haunted him as he lay in bed unable to sleep, it had followed him into his dreams. There had been plenty of women in his life, women of his own sort, enjoying their sexuality. So why couldn’t he put Tessa from his thoughts? What he felt for her was lust, unadulterated lust, he told himself repeatedly. If he were completely honest he had even let himself imagine how this evening might have turned imagination into reality. But he mustn’t let that happen. Somewhere in the world there must be a young lad who would one day be her husband, who would awaken her dormant passion; for beneath her rather old-fashioned manner he instinctively knew there was passion, like a silent volcano waiting to erupt.
    It took no more than seconds for these thoughts to chase across Giles’ mind.
    ‘There’s no heating in the kitchen so you may prefer to keep your coat on while we organize supper. Steak, mushrooms, crusty bread. Not much of a feast to invite you to share – especially to share the cooking of it.’
    ‘It sounds delicious and sharing getting it ready will be fun. I don’t need my coat: the grill will keep me warm.’ Then, watching him light the oil lamp that hung from a beam in the kitchen ceiling, ‘But how come you have a gas cooker?’
    ‘It’s bottle gas. A pipe comes in through the wall. A chap comes every month and changes the bottle. Not that I’m here that often and when I am I don’t bother with much cooking if I’m working so the one he takes away is never empty – sometimes it won’t have been used at all. But if I altered the arrangement I might find I’d have to fix it myself.’
    ‘I don’t expect it’s very complicated.’
    He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Not to some folk, I dare say. Anyway, I’ve no intention of finding out.’
    To some people his approach to a simple task might have lost him respect, but to love-struck Tessa it was yet another example of how removed he was from the world of lesser men.
    ‘Do you know about grilling?’ she asked. ‘Or would you rather I did the steak and you peeled the mushrooms and fried them?’
    ‘Steak I can do. The frying pan is in that cupboard and you’ll find oil on the end of the bench. How do you like your steak? I have mine a bit charred on the outside and very rare in the middle. But you can have it as you prefer. My cooking talents are limited but I can cook steak to perfection.’
    ‘Do mine the same as yours. But let me get going first, or give me a hand peeling the mushrooms.’
    ‘OK, that’s the best plan. Let me pour us a glass of wine while we’re slaving at the hot stove.’
    Often enough Tessa prepared meals at Chagleigh Farm just as when she hadn’t been working at the hotel she had cooked for her grandmother and herself, but never had she experienced an atmosphere as there was in the tiny kitchen of Hideaway Cottage. She noticed that when her wine glass was half empty Giles topped it up, just as he did his own. Was that why she had such a warm,
complete
sort of feeling, as if all her life had been leading to this moment? But her feet hadn’t quite left the ground and when she saw Giles coming towards her glass with the bottle for yet another top up, she shook her head.
    ‘You go ahead, but don’t give me any more. You see, at home – on the island, I mean – Gran and I only drank wine with our meal at Christmas, Easter and birthdays. I hadn’t thought about it, but I don’t think they ever have it with meals at the farm. So I mustn’t let you take me home tiddly! Gosh, doesn’t this smell
good
! Lunch feels like hours ago. Shall I cut some hunks of this crusty bread?’
    A couple of minutes later she carried their