Free Jumping in Puddles by Barbara Elsborg Page A

been damaged, and I did the gilding and the painting, but the plaster work I paid for. Luckily the frescoes were in good condition.”
    “Imagine dancing in here.” Ellie twirled around the room. “If you look in the mirror, you can see yourself reflected into infinity. Actually, that’s kind of spooky. Hundreds and thousands and millions of me.” She spun to a halt and found Jago in front of her.
    “I only need one,” he whispered.
    His arms hung by his sides, and Ellie knew this was up to her, that she could walk away, that she should walk away, but she couldn’t.
    You’re mine. You don’t know it, but you are. I don’t know how that could be, but it is . Ellie waited.
    Jago released a ragged breath and stepped back.
    Bloody hell. Again? What game was he playing?
    “We haven’t finished looking round yet. Few more rooms on this floor to see, plus the baron’s hall and then the outbuildings.”
    Something inside Ellie curled up in pain, but she donned the brightest smile she could and only let it fade when he couldn’t see her.
    She followed him out of the ballroom, and he showed her the other rooms on that floor. Easy to see why he’d been overwhelmed by what needed to be done.
    “The kitchen isn’t too bad. My mother insisted on having that replaced with something more modern.”
    “It’s lovely.” But a mess with dirty pans piled up, newspapers and magazines everywhere.
    A long oak table dominated the room with chairs on one side, a bench on the other. Old wood had been used to make the cabinets, and the crumb-strewn countertop was brown granite flecked with turquoise. A stove sat in an alcove, an old leather couch near the window. All it needed to look perfect was a dog. They’d never been allowed pets because Pixie was allergic.
    “We share it,” Jago muttered.
    “And presumably no one takes responsibility for cleaning it up.”
    “I’m not picking up after my lodgers,” he snapped.
    Oops . “Where do they lead?” She nodded toward the doors on the far side of the kitchen.
    “Breakfast room and utility room.”
    “Is that everywhere inside?” she asked.
    “I haven’t shown you the baron’s hall yet.”
    “Where do you live?”
    “In a room upstairs.”
    “Can I see it?”
    “No.”
    She opened her eyes wider. “Please?”
    He scowled and stormed out. What bit him on the butt? She followed him up the stairs, distracted by thoughts of biting his butt, though when he opened the door of his room, she understood his reluctance. Swallowing the temptation to comment on the piles of clothes and heaps of books, she looked for something positive to say. Her gaze settled on the surfboard. “I wish I could surf. I wish I could swim.”
    “You can’t swim?”
    “Twelve inches freaks me out.”
    Jago spluttered.
    “Lots of people have tried to teach me, but they all gave up.”
    “The answer might be skinny-dipping. Tried it?”
    “Only in eleven inches of bathwater.”
    He laughed. “Do you not like getting your face wet?”
    “It isn’t that. I practiced sticking my head in a bucket and holding my breath, and that didn’t bother me. It’s expanses of water I can’t handle. The way it looks solid and isn’t. I feel as though it’s going to swallow me.”
    Jago stared at her. “You have a very weird mind.”
    “Thank you.” Ellie smiled as they headed downstairs.
    “I think you must be the strangest woman I’ve ever met. I have this vision of you now with your head in a bucket.”
    “Not one of me skinny-dipping?”
    Ellie reached the bottom and stopped. He took several more steps before he realized she wasn’t with him; then he turned to face her across the checkerboard floor. As he stared, his Adam’s apple shifted in his throat, and his cheeks flushed. Her gaze dropped.
    “Do you think the place is beyond hope?” He took a step toward her. Black square.
    “You could tidy this in no time.”
    He took another step. White square. “I mean the house.”
    “Nothing is