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

Waking very early the following morning, as he’d planned, Daniel set off to walk along the cliff path in the opposite direction to Solhaven. Jake had told him there was a small hamlet just past the cliffs, called Porthcove, with a tiny harbour and a scattering of houses, and three miles beyond that was Howgale, another good surfing beach.

From the cottage, he could see the cliffs rising sharply, with a steep drop to the sea, which had waves crashing against the base. It looked dramatic. Could he use the scene in a painting, maybe with a few people standing, indistinct in form, gazing down at the waves, as Claire had suggested?

It was a glorious morning with a clear sky; the sun rising on his left as he walked, and a steady breeze whipping his hair back from his forehead. This wasn’t a stroll—the cliff path twisted and turned, dropped and rose, and sometimes went very close to the cliff edge, so he was grateful for the onshore wind. Breathing in the salty air, Daniel felt close to content. Sebastian had been right when he’d said he’d like it here.

Yesterday had… astonished him. He’d simply let go and enjoyed himself and as a result, he’d found talking to Claire easy, both during lunch and for most of the afternoon. Nor had it been spoiled when she drove him back. The casual friendliness had continued, and she had left him to walk down to the cottage with a casual wave as she took herself off to the hostel.

It seemed they could be friendly together, and yet Daniel’s mouth tightened as he remembered when Claire had placed her hand on his arm, and the shock of electricity which had run through his body just from that one touch. A shock which had been repeated later, when he’d caught hold of her to steady her. A connection. Lust. But those were the things he felt unable to handle yet. They needed too much emotional investment, and he needed more time to heal.

He needed to aim for friendship with her for now. Easy enough, because they’d only ever see each other occasionally. Occasionally? Ha! He was already putting the lie to that by going to the walled garden this afternoon to look at the garden plans.

When he reached the highest point of the path, above the cliffs with their dramatic necklace of spray, foam and water, he admired the view along the coast, seeing in the far distance a long beach. It looked to have a mist hovering over it, likely caused by the spray blown from the tops of the waves, and he assumed it was Howgale. Below him, tucked in the lee of the cliffs, was the small port Jake had mentioned, with some brightly painted boats swaying lazily at anchor and a few grey, stone-built houses surrounding the harbour in a haphazard cluster. It was perfect, and sometime soon, he itched to go further and get down to Porthcove to paint the harbour. Although there had to be a road, which would be the easier option, he decided.

After a few moments, Daniel turned, ready to go back, looking forward to some coffee. In the distance, he saw a figure running towards him. He wondered if it was Jake on a very early morning run, but before he could decide, the figure disappeared behind a high bank, and oddly, never reappeared. Shrugging, Daniel assumed there was a path cutting up through the fields.

But when he rounded the bank, he didn’t find a path with a disappearing runner. Instead, he found Claire, lying spread-eagled in the dust, various items scattered round her. What appeared to be an artist’s case had burst open, its contents scattered near a horribly damaged piece of thick, water-colour paper.

He ran forwards, shock freezing him to the bone. She wasn’t moving.

‘Claire! Claire, are you all right?’

She didn’t move, and he squatted on his heels, reaching towards her and gently brushing the hair off her face. ‘Hey, Claire! Claire, are you okay?’ A note of panic entered his voice when she didn’t respond.

Her eyelids flickered, and he let out a relieved breath. One of her hands lifted before dropping back into the dust, and finally, her eyes opened. After a few moments, she slowly pushed herself upright and reached to push back the tangle of hair that had fallen over her face. She winced. Quickly pulling her hand away from her forehead, she stared at the blood on her fingers in confusion.

She lifted her gaze to meet Daniel’s and stared at him blankly. Looking round, some understanding seemed to return, and she blinked furiously to clear tears from her eyes.

‘Hey, hey, steady. Here.’ Daniel, still crouched beside her, proffered a tissue, crumpled but obviously perfectly clean. She looked a mess. White as a sheet, with blood trickling down one side of her face, and clearly very dazed. Daniel bit on his lower lip. Would she be able to stand?

Claire took it and dabbed gently at her forehead, sucking in a sharp breath as she found the cut on her head. ‘I-I’m… okay,’ she stammered.

She was shaken but hopefully not too seriously injured, and Daniel’s heart gradually slowed its frantic pace. When he’d realised who it was lying on the gravelled path, his stomach had lurched with fear. The blood on her face was getting worse, and it frightened him, but he could see the cut wasn’t too severe. Head wounds always bled a lot, he’d been told. He felt the tremble in his hands and fisted them on his thighs to control it.

Because she looked so shocked and miserable, he wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but he tamped down on that feeling. He needed to be practical and get her to Gardener’s Cottage to care for her injuries.

‘Oh!’ Claire exclaimed in further distress. ‘M-my painting!’ She gazed unhappily at the canvas lying face down on the dusty path, angled ominously over a protruding stone.

Daniel rose to his feet and crossed to where the picture lay. He bent and flipped it over, looking at it for a long, silent moment before picking it up and carrying it back to Claire, still sitting on the path. He put it down gently beside her.

‘Oh!’ This time, her exclamation was one of extreme dismay as she looked down at the jagged tear running across it.

Moving off again, Daniel collected tubes of paint, brushes, sponges, a couple of small plastic palettes and a bottle of water which lay scattered over the ground, carefully replacing them in the wooden case.

‘The case isn’t damaged. One corner’s a bit scratched, but that’s all. I think I’ve found all your stuff.’

He finished putting in the last few things before closing the box and placing it alongside the painting.

A tear finally escaped and rolled down Claire’s face, dropping onto the now ruined canvas.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked worriedly. ‘Are you hurt? More than we can see, I mean,’ he added hastily, acknowledging the apparent damage visible was quite enough to merit Claire being called hurt, and cause some tears.

‘N-no. No, I said I was all right. I’m sorry.’ Claire rubbed the back of her dusty hand across her eyes, leaving a smudge of grime on her nose and cheek.

‘Your knee!’ he breathed, his voice shocked.

Claire looked down. Blood seeped from a jagged cut liberally smeared with gravel and dirt. ‘Oh, that.’ She waved a hand dismissively at her knee ‘That’ll mend, and my head will mend.’ Finally, although she struggled to keep it in, her words burst out with unpremeditated pain, ‘The painting won’t! It was the best one I’ve ever done, the one I was going to show you, for you to critique.’ She dropped her head onto her folded arms, which rested on her knees.

Looking at her in startled amazement, his eyes moved from the just visible oozing cut on her head to the freely bleeding leg wound, which to him looked very nasty indeed, and finally to the painting lying pathetically on the ground beside her. It appeared, of the three, it was the damaged painting which distressed her the most. He had to add courage to everything else he liked about her. His ex-wife would have demanded that he should dial the emergency services, probably the air ambulance, and would no doubt have been screaming the place down. Come to that, Gina wouldn’t have come anywhere near a place like this, anyway.

After a long pause, Daniel spoke with considerable concern. The look of her knee made his stomach turn, and he was sure if it wasn’t painful now, it soon would be. ‘Look, whatever you say about being all right, this has to have been a nasty shock for you. I’m going to take you back to the cottage and clean up that cut for you. Or better still, get someone professional to look at it,’ he added dubiously. ‘Here, give me your hand. I’ll help you up.’

He leaned forward and stretched out his hand. Claire raised her eyes, still bright with tears. She looked utterly miserable, and he couldn’t help comparing her to the laughing, animated woman of yesterday. His heart shifted in his chest.

Silently she held out her hand, grimy, bloodstained, and sore.

He helped her to her feet and bent to pick up her case and the picture. Carrying those in one hand, he slid his other arm round her waist.

He heard her swallow. Was aware she flinched. Wondered if she was thinking the same as he was—that to be so close might prove difficult? Yesterday—his thoughts kept sliding back to the sunshine, talk and laughter of yesterday—they’d laid the foundations of a friendly relationship, and while he knew he could manage that, he was a lot more uncertain of being physically close. One day, he thought wistfully. One day. But it would be too much emotion now—emotion he wasn’t ready to cope with.

‘Put your arm round me,’ Daniel suggested, determinedly concentrating on the thought she needed his help.

She turned her head and looked at him. He could sense her resistance. Fuck! Surely, they’d got past this yesterday, and had both silently agreed to put it to one side. Fine decisions, as long as warm body didn’t come into contact with warm body and arms didn’t entwine.

‘Put your arm round me,’ he repeated, knowing his awareness showed in his eyes and seeing an answering flare of colour sweep over her pale cheeks.

‘No. No, I’m sure I can manage,’ Claire said faintly. She stepped forward as she tried to evade his arm, stumbling as she did.

‘Look, don’t be so silly. All we need is for you to fall again. Believe me, you’re shocked and distressed and you need help to get home. I happen,’ he added desperately, ‘to be the only person around at the moment so…’ His mouth went dry and his heart pounded so hard he thought she would see his body shake with each beat. ‘We have to do this, okay?’ he finished weakly.

What he couldn’t understand, in view of his decision to never love again, was where this tender care and visceral attraction came from?

Wrong time, though. It really was the wrong time.

He waited. Slowly, Claire lifted her arm and slid it round his waist. He could feel her warmth through the thin cotton of his shirt as her fingers passed over the hard muscles of his back. He heard her swallow a second time and knew she was finding it hard to touch him in this way. Looking at her averted head, seeing the thick curl of her hair over her shoulders, he bit on his lip, struggling to maintain his detachment, but it was no use, because there was another of those strange, frozen moments which wrapped them in its embrace, even though neither looked at the other. Oh, where the hell was that easy camaraderie they’d shared yesterday?

It was several seconds before Daniel could speak. ‘All right?’ he asked, taking a ragged breath. He turned his head turned away from her, his voice curiously muffled as they slowly set off.

‘Mmm,’ Claire murmured, apparently also incapable of coherent speech.

Her head slipped sideways and rested against his shoulder, and her arm tightened slightly round his waist. They could have been lovers, he thought wistfully.

But no, not lovers, he admonished himself, as inside his feelings warred. It was just as he’d told her—he was the only one around to pick up the pieces after her accident. If there’d been someone else there, he would’ve relinquished his place with insulting speed. Nothing had changed. Well, it had, because now he knew her better, he liked her and cared about her well-being. That was what he had to keep uppermost in his head.

Yet Daniel remained constantly aware of the feel of her flexing body under the length of his arm, and the soft warmth of her pressed against his side.

It wasn’t an easy walk back to the cottage and took a long time. Arriving at the door, he dropped his arm and stepped away from Claire, who swayed and put her hand against the door frame to steady herself while he dug in the back pocket of his jeans, extricated the key, and kicked the door open with his foot.

‘Come on, you,’ he said, reaching out to her again.

‘No… no, really. I can manage now,’ Claire protested, her hands weakly warding him off as she stepped forwards. ‘Daniel… thank you… Daniel…’

He saw her sway and her eyes close, and a second shaft of fear went through him. Leaping forward, Daniel caught Claire as she crumpled to the ground. She was more badly hurt than she’d let on. He carried her inert body into the sitting room and laid her gently down on the settee.

She needed a doctor who could take proper care of that leg and decide how serious the head injury was. She was too important and her injuries too severe for him to take further responsibility, dithering as he was between desire and trust issues. For a moment, he stood and allowed himself the fleeting luxury of taking in the details of her face before making his way upstairs, where he snagged a duvet from the spare bedroom and returned, covering her with it. Then he googled the hotel, got the number for reception, and asked for a message to be passed to Jake or Emily, asking them to contact a doctor.

While waiting for someone to arrive, he went into the kitchen and filled a bowl with warm water. Returning, he knelt beside Claire and gently cleaned as much dirt as he could from her face, hands and knee, but he refrained from touching the wounds.

Within fifteen minutes, Emily turned up at the cottage, looking worried.

‘The doctor’s coming to check her over,’ she reassured Daniel, looking down at the white-faced Claire tucked under the duvet. ‘I’m only thankful you were nearby when she fell.’ Emily glanced at her watch. ‘It’s horrendously early, but Dr Tranter’s a good bloke and said no worries. Jake’s out running, otherwise he’d be here as well. Tell me what happened?’

What had happened? Claire had fallen. Claire was hurt. And the way Daniel felt her pain—as deep and raw as the wound on her knee—meant he had fallen, too. Or was falling. Hard and fast, and he wasn’t sure he could stop it. But he’d promised himself friendship, so he’d have to.