The Captain and the Cricketer by Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead

Author:Catherine Curzon & Eleanor Harkstead [Curzon, Catherine & Harkstead, Eleanor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotic Romance Fiction
ISBN: 9781786516718
Publisher: Pride Publishing
Published: 2018-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Everyone always went on about Henry’s tweeds. They had become his trademark, which, he knew, meant he had become his own cliché. He was very fond of tweed, but the best thing to do with a stale and predictable wardrobe—so he had read in a magazine left at his surgery by one of the nurses—is mix things up a little.

So Henry decided to wear corduroy trousers and a checked shirt with rolled-up sleeves. He only ever dressed like that to loaf about at home, knowing that no one would see. But this was the new Henry, the Henry who was in love. And this was as casual as he got.

He arrived at the cottage gate to see George cradling Jez’s head, whispering to him, and a surge of love sang through Henry’s blood again. George looked up just as Henry pushed open the gate.

“George! Good evening.”

“Fitz!” George’s face lit up with his smile of welcome. “I’ve missed you, is that silly?”

Henry hurried into the garden and took George’s hand.

“No, not at all—I missed you!”

Jez nuzzled a welcome against Henry’s side as George put his arms around him, his head falling to rest against Henry’s shoulder. George’s embrace was tight, as though they had been parted for weeks.

Henry dropped his bag to the floor and held him. George’s hair was slightly damp, as if he’d just got out of a shower.

How sweet of George to spruce up before our date.

All Henry had had time for was a quick spray of cologne to disguise the lingering smell of farmyards. Still his lover clung to him, George and the horse snuggled tight to Henry.

“I never thought I’d ever feel like this,” Henry whispered into George’s hair.

“I love you.” George lifted his face to look at Henry. “I love you and your tweed and your house made of cowpats and your everything.”

“My house made of—? Oh, yes! It’s quite the conversation starter, that is! We’re going to save my house, aren’t we? I raided the library at home. I’ve got an old almanac that Bad Billy hid some letters in, and an estate diary and the Bible that his will was copied into. There must be something in all that which refers to the bloody cricket match!”

“Nobody’s taking your house, Fitz, no matter what they think. And this morning… I wouldn’t make this village look stupid, I love it here.” He let his head fall again. “It’s been bothering me all day that you think I’d do that.”

Should Henry broach the question he had pondered all day—had they had their first argument? At least, their first since becoming a couple. But it was probably best not to say anything. It might only stir it up again, and it was safer left unremarked on. That seemed the healthiest thing to do.

“Sorry if I said the wrong thing in front of Tabitha. Bit defensive about old Parvy, I’m afraid, old chap.”

“But is that what you think of me, that I’d rock up here, mock the

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