Romantic Escapes. Julie Caplin

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СКАЧАТЬ to grasp her arm and help her counter balance the weight of her ten-ton coat.

      Kind eyes, thought Lucy as she caught a glimpse of concerned brown eyes above a tartan woollen scarf while she let him haul her up the steps.

      ‘Let’s get you inside quickly before you start to chill down. That heat isn’t going to last long.’ Kind voice too. The slight Scottish burr was soft and gentle, a rather wonderful contrast to his firm and decisive hold as he pulled her forward and steered her off the decking.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said, subtly shaking off his grasp, even though for some contrary reason she didn’t want to. Kindness had been in short supply in her world for a while. ‘I’m fine,’ she added, with more of a sharp bite to her voice. After everything she’d been through this year, she was never taking anything at face value again. Kind was as kind did or whatever the phrase was.

      ‘I’m Alex.’ The man’s hand still hovered by her side as if ready to catch her. ‘And this is Hekla. I’m so sorry there was no one to check you in. We weren’t expecting any guests today.’

      ‘No. It is most strange. Did you have a booking?’ asked Hekla, in her glorious musical voice.

      ‘I’m not a guest. I’m…’ Lucy swallowed. No crying. Dripping from head to toe had put her at enough of a disadvantage as it was. ‘I’m the new manager, Lucy Smart.’ Automatically she lifted a business-like hand and then dropped it quickly as she realised how ridiculous it must look, with water dripping from her sleeves.

      ‘Oh!’ The girl’s voice echoed with surprise. ‘But you are not expected until next week.’

      ‘Everything was confirmed by email,’ said Lucy, her words quick and sharp with sudden panic, not wanting them to think she was disorganised or all over the place.

      ‘But we had a phone call yesterday saying your plans had changed and you would be coming next week.’

      ‘Well that wasn’t me,’ said Lucy.

      ‘Must be the huldufólk making trouble,’ said Hekla with a straight face, nodding. ‘But you’re here now and we’d better get you inside, quickly,’ she paused and then added with a mischievous twinkle that once upon a time Lucy might have been charmed by, ‘it is usually best to wait until daylight before using the hot springs.’

      ‘I’ve been waiting to get inside for the last half hour,’ muttered Lucy, wincing as her feet splish-sploshed on the wooden decking, the water squelching out of her favourite boots and great clouds of steam rising from her sodden clothing. Just bloody marvellous. These people were clearly her new colleagues. So much for making a good impression from the start.

      ‘But the door is open,’ said Hekla. ‘It’s always open.’ Her stalwart, sure declaration made Lucy feel doubly stupid. The door had definitely been locked. Hadn’t it? She was sure. She’d tried everything.

      ‘Well it wasn’t today,’ snarled Lucy in a heartfelt undertone. ‘Why else would I would be wandering around in the dark, trying to find my way in?’ The door had definitely been locked. Her sharp rebuttal was ruined when she slipped on the decking. She pinched her lips and ducked her head as if concentrating on her footing feeling unaccountably tearful all of a sudden.

      ‘Hey, let me give you a hand,’ Alex’s voice lowered, his tone gentle. She jerked her eyeline to meet his. Warmth and compassion lit those kind eyes as he took her elbow. For what seemed far too long they held hers with a serious steady gaze, as if he could see right through her to the constant shadow of misery that resided in her chest. When he gave her a reassuring smile, his eyes never leaving her face, she felt a funny salmon leap in her stomach.

      Sense warred with self-preservation and much as she wanted to shake off the firm gentle support of his arm, that prickle of awareness had unnerved her. Lucy let him guide her back up the slope, trying hard not to like the feeling of letting someone else look after her for a change.

      Slightly open-mouthed Lucy peeled off her soggy clothes, gazing around the cosy apartment room as she curled her toes into the soft fluff one of the sheepskin rugs dotting the wide-planked honey-coloured wooden floor. This was some staff accommodation and the bathroom was to die for. Steam was already billowing from the huge walk in shower with its bucket head sprinkler.

      Hekla, who with her flaxen hair clearly came from Viking Princess stock, had ushered Lucy through the hotel leaving her with an impression of wooden beams, airy, wide spaces and huge plate glass windows. Her new colleague was talking nineteen to the dozen disclosing a barrage of information, only some of which Lucy took in. Alex was the head barman. Hekla was the assistant manager. The hotel was half full, or was that half empty? The northern lights season was about to start. Other names, some of which sounded as if they were straight from Norse mythology, were mentioned; Brynja, Olafur, Gunnar, Erik, Kristjan, Elin, Freya.

      Lucy padded into the bathroom that was, thankfully, beautifully warm. It had a distinct, luxury designer feel to it with its rustic wooden shelf holding a round sink, black floor tiles and a big square shower cubicle.

      She stepped into the hot shower and let her head droop as the delicious hot water rained down on her wet hair. Way to go Lucy. How to impress your new colleagues. Why had they’d thought she was coming next week? They must think she was a complete flake. She couldn’t have got the date wrong, could she? Admittedly she’d been all over the place recently and her once famed organisational skills had done a bunk in the last few months, but getting the date wrong? No, she couldn’t have done. And the door had definitely, definitely been locked.

      After the bliss of the shower, and a brisk rub with a towel that was perfectly fluffy and soft, Lucy felt a hell of a lot better, although it was still depressing to see another few handfuls of hair circling the plug hole of the shower.

      Carefully she dried it, fearful of losing anymore, and deliberately avoided looking at herself in the mirror, knowing only too well she’d see Morticia’s second cousin staring back at her. Over the last few months, gaunt shadows had set in, shading her cheekbones, and dark circles had taken up residence, underscoring her eyes with purple black bruises making her looking part panda and part ghoul. Along with the hollowing of her features, a constant queasiness had settled in her stomach.

      Her scooped out face seemed to reflect the complete shambles her life had become. Wincing she put down the hairdryer and looked beyond her reflection through the doorway of the bathroom to the wonderful temptation of the double bed in the other room with its thick white cotton duvet and soft blue throw.

      Before she gave into tiredness, she quickly explored the living space, her home for the next two months. Despite feeling trampled on, her spirits couldn’t help but lift. The wooden-framed double bed faced a large open fireplace smack bang in the middle of a run of picture windows, which was an unusual but striking design feature that she’d never seen before. Maybe it was an Icelandic thing. The imposing hearth was built of rustic stone, with an internal chimney breast that rose the full height of the room to the triangular peak of the sloping wooden ceiling. It gave the space a lofty open feeling, but the honey-coloured wood on the walls and ceilings along with the soft rugs and the colourful woven fabric wall hangings saved the room from feeling cold.

      Over to the right was a small lounge area with a neat two-man sofa, draped in the softest cashmere perfect-for-snuggling-in-on-a-cold-day throw, two arm chairs facing the fire and beyond that a compact kitchen area with a breakfast bar and two stools.

      With a tired smile she promised herself that on her first day off she’d be wrapping herself up in the throw, building a fire (something СКАЧАТЬ