Shadow on the Fells (14 page)

For a moment Will just stood there, taking in his surroundings. Brown chickens scratched in the dirt, clucking busily, and a big colorful rooster watched over them, full of his own importance.
Like I used to be
, thought Will with a smile. It occurred to him how narcissistic he'd always been in the city, never really stopping to look around and pay attention to anything other than himself.

“Can I help you?”

Chrissie's sharp voice came from over by the barn and he turned to her. She stood tall with her head thrown back, alert for trouble and on the defensive. He remembered kissing her, the feel of her lips beneath his and their fleeting softness. Every instinct urged him to do it again, to just walk across and take her into his arms. What would she do? Probably turn on him like a wildcat. Or melt in his arms, he thought, struggling to resist the impulse.

“Hi,” he called. “I...I wondered if we could have a chat.”

“I need to finish up in here first,” she said shortly, retreating into the barn. Will followed, his heart racing and an unfamiliar churning in his gut.

He didn't see her immediately as he stepped through the big doors into the relative gloom of the barn. He had never really breathed in the aroma of sweet meadow hay before he came to this place, and he paused, savoring the smell.

“Someone should bottle that,” he said, and Chrissie's low chuckle came from the farthest corner of the barn.

“What would you call it, High Bracken Hay...or maybe just Sweet Meadow Grass?”

“I would call it Nature's Elixir,” Will announced, heading toward her. “Possibly with taint of sheep,” he added, as the strong smell of the animals filled his nose.

“Let's get it out there, then,” Chrissie said, standing. She'd been feeding the “pet” lamb. “I could do with the money. Here.”

She placed the lamb's bottle in his hands. “Sooner I get done then the sooner I will be able to listen to what you have to say. If you just get this little one to finish its milk while I feed the sheep in the meadow then I might even have time for a coffee.”

With that she strode away, leaving Will with the tiny lamb, which was gazing eagerly up at him.

“Right, then,” he said, bending down to pick it up. It wriggled violently, so he put it down again, pointing the teat in its direction.

“Just cradle it with one arm while you get it going, remember,” called Chrissie. “Like last time.” Will glanced across to see her outlined in the doorway against the sunshine beyond the barn. Never had he met a woman like her, so comfortable and confident in her own space. That confidence and unselfconsciousness gave her a glow that no beauty product could ever match. She was radiant. He smiled at her and she smiled back.

“You're doing good,” she told him before turning away, and something warmed inside him. Praise from Chrissie was praise indeed.

With fresh determination, he went about his task of feeding the lamb. His own confidence was soaring.

“Come on, little one,” he urged as the tiny creature started to suckle. The tractor roared into life and he could hear Chrissie calling for the dogs. It felt as if he had stepped into another world.

By the time he heard the tractor coming back, the bottle was empty and with a feeling of satisfaction he put the lamb gently back down just as Chrissie came marching into the barn with the dogs at her heels.

“Oh, good!” she cried. “It's off to a new home later today, and a full belly will help it cope with the trauma of meeting its new mum.”

Will's idyllic bubble burst in an instant as he realized anew how tough life could be here. “But why can't you just keep it until it's grown up?” he asked, feeling protective of the little creature that had been so dependent on him just moments ago.

Chrissie shrugged. “It needs to be back where it is supposed to be if at all possible. Sometimes I've been left with a lamb that never finds another mother—and don't get me wrong, they do okay on the bottle. They never really know who they are, though, that's the trouble. I had one a few years ago, named Hilda—after my aunt—who thought she was a dog and followed Tess and Fly everywhere.”

“So what happened to her? Please don't say you sent her for slaughter.”

Chrissie sighed. “I should have, of course, but I managed to integrate her back into the flock... Not without difficulty, mind. She kept turning up at the back door trying to get into the house.”

“And is she still a part of the flock?”

She was silent for a minute and then she dropped her gaze to the ground. “She died last year...difficult lambing.” Chrissie met his eyes again. “Come on. I'll make you that coffee and you can tell me what you are really here for.”

Chrissie still seemed troubled as she poured coffee into two mugs, which made Will wonder if something other than the death of the sheep last year was bothering her. She was quiet and withdrawn, as if her mind was elsewhere.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Her answer came too quickly. “Yes, of course I am.”

He tried again. “What is it...? Money? Romance?”

“It's nothing,” she insisted. “Well, at least nothing that a few quid can't sort out.”

Just as he had when he was a lawyer, Will saw his opportunity and moved in. “Well
there
,” he said, “I just may be able to help you.”

* * *

C
HRISSIE
LOOKED
UP
at him, startled. His features were both masculine and yet finely sculpted, she noted...and his lips...

She shut out the memory of their kiss.

“Two thousand pounds to train Max,” he said. “That's what I'll pay you.”

A spot of color rose in each of her cheeks. “But that's crazy,” she said. “Anyway, I already told you, I'm way too busy.”

Will reached out and took both her hands in his, holding them tightly. “Max quite probably saved my life. If he hadn't come to find you, then who knows what might have happened. I owe him, and I don't want him shot by some farmer. Please, Chrissie. The money is nothing to me.”

Chrissie couldn't speak. So many thoughts were circling in her mind. Two thousand pounds would be life-changing right now, give her some peace of mind to concentrate on what she was good at... But at what cost to her pride, her dignity?

“You obviously
need
the money,” he went on. She bristled at that, but let him continue. “It would be purely a business arrangement, of benefit to us both. No strings.”

“But what about your plans for holiday cottages? We're on different sides of the fence over that issue. Going into business with you would undermine my credibility with the members of the community who support my beliefs.”

“But Chrissie...” Will held her gaze, tightening his grip on her hands, willing her to say yes. “Surely your friends and supporters wouldn't begrudge you doing what you have to, to survive. They'll probably pat you on the back and say, ‘well done for taking his money.'”

A slow smile spread across Chrissie's face. Two thousand pounds would more than hold her over until she could start selling the lambs...but was it really worth it? Then again, did she have a choice? “And when would you intend to pay?”

“Is that a yes?”

She shook her head determinedly. “Just a question.”

Still keeping a firm hold on her hands, he didn't let his gaze waver. She glanced away, her eyes wandering yet again to his lips. They formed words so eloquently, but were the words he spoke true and honest? Will's whole career had been based on clever words. What if Max proved to be untrainable—would Will still pay up?

“We'd need a contract,” she said slowly, and his eyes shone.

“Here is my contract,” he began. “A verbal one. I pay up in full here and now, and you try and train my dog.”

Chrissie frowned, trying to pull her hands away but he wouldn't let go. An amused smile lightened his features. “What do you mean ‘try'?'” she asked crossly.

“Ah, so we do have a deal?”

“No strings?”

“No strings,” he promised. “If Max turns out to be too stupid to train, then no hard feelings.”

“He isn't stupid,” she insisted, jumping to the dog's defense.

“See,” said Will. “You like him already.”

“Of course I like him. I've always
liked
him. It's not his fault that his master doesn't know a thing about dogs...or anything else about the country, if we're being honest.”

“Okay, then...” Will leaned toward her, so close that she could feel his breath against her skin. His aftershave was clean and crisp, and his breath held a hint of mint. “Another five hundred to train me, too.”

This time she did manage to pull her hands away. “What!”

“Let me sit in on some of the training sessions so that I can learn, too, and I'll give you another five hundred pounds.”

Every instinct told her to say no. Being in Will Devlin's company more than was strictly necessary was way too dangerous. The way she felt when she was around him frightened her; her own reactions to him frightened her. She stared at him, heat flooding her face.

“You would be helping the countryside, as well,” he pleaded. “If you educate me, too, then all my ideas might change.”

Was he talking about the planning permission? Perhaps it did make a kind of sense. She could definitely educate him about the countryside. And when she'd finished then maybe he'd finally see what she saw and drop his grand, disastrous ideas.

“Okay, then,” she said firmly, feeling as if she was selling her soul. “But make it seven-fifty.”

“You drive a hard bargain!” he cried. Then he took her hand and shook it firmly, drawing her toward him. She wanted to pull away but he was already too close. She could feel his heat. And when his other hand came around her back, pulling her even closer, she surrendered.

Her lips met his and lingered there, and for an endless moment all Chrissie's reservations melted away. Her whole body softened against him and she felt her lips part, unresisting, moving so naturally against the sweetness of his. And then suddenly the dogs barked, racing across the kitchen in a frenzy, and she pulled away. What was she doing?

“That,” she said, marching to the door, “was not a part of the deal.” Outside, all was quiet and still. Tess, Fly and Floss stared up at her, their faces bright. “Crazy dogs, there's no one there.” But she was relieved at their interference—they'd brought her back to her senses. She was behaving like a naive teenager, and it wasn't going to help her cause if Will thought she was unable to resist him.

When she turned back to him, he raised both his hands. “I'm sorry. It was a sudden impulse. You just looked so—”

“Forget it.” Chrissie cut him off.

When his eyes met hers, Chrissie felt a rush of regret at taking up his offer. She would have to make an extra effort to keep things professional. She couldn't forget what Will wanted to do to her fells. He was determined to make a living out of holiday rentals, and she was determined to change his mind about it. He was paying her handsomely to do a job, and that was how she had to think of it...no getting too close, and no more impulsive kisses. No matter how much she might long for them.

And she would still fight his planning permission application if she had to. She just had to keep her feet on the ground and make him see how wrong he was.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A
FTER
W
ILL
LEFT
, Chrissie sat at the kitchen table, staring at the check he had insisted on giving her for £2,750. She felt as if she had sold her soul, and in a way, she guessed she had.

No matter, she decided; at least now she could pay for the tractor repairs and have a nice lump left over to see her through until the lambs were sold. All she had to do was train one big, daft labradoodle...oh, yes, and train its big, daft owner, too. That would be the bigger problem, she suspected. Thankfully, she had a week's grace, for she'd told him she couldn't start until Floss went back to her owner and lambing time was about done.

To Chrissie's delight, over the next few days it felt as if the fells had decided to embrace spring and had worked out a deal with the weather. The snowdrops were dying, but daffodils sprang up to replace them in big yellow patches. Even the air smelled different, fresh and aromatic, so many scents mingling into one huge bouquet. If you could bottle it, she thought, you would be a millionaire.

As she walked toward the house after her morning chores, she dallied with the idea, remembering with a smile Will's suggestion to make the scent of hay a perfume. Then she laughed it all off. Bottle fresh air! Now that would really be a scam.

The phone was ringing as she walked into the cozy warmth of the kitchen with Tess, Fly and Floss at her heels. All three collapsed in front of the stove while she hurried to answer it. To her surprise, Tom Farrah's pleasant, confident voice filled her ears.

“Chrissie,” he boomed. “How are you?”

“I'm fine...and you?” She tried to keep the apprehension out of her voice. Did he have news about Will's plans?

“Fine, too, thanks. Now, I can't get involved, but I did promise to let you know if a planning application for Craig Side came in...and it has. It is only for outline planning at this stage, and it will probably be heard next month, although as it is only the second today they have asked if there is any possibility of it being brought forward. We meet on the last Friday of the month, you see, so it will be over three weeks before this month's decisions are made.”

Chrissie's heart sped up. She hadn't even begun trying to change Will's mind and already it seemed it was too late for that. She hadn't expected his application to go in so soon. A heavy lump formed in her chest. “So what exactly does that mean?” she asked.

“Well, he's applying for outline planning to turn Craig Side farm into tourist accommodation. If he wins, then that's it. There will be stipulations, though, of course, when he submits the detailed plans...”

“So obviously you think it's a foregone conclusion that he'll win?”

Tom didn't respond right away, and a trickle of anger strengthened Chrissie's resolve. Will hadn't won yet; that was the main thing.

“Yes, unless there is some serious opposition,” he said. “I promised to keep you informed, but that is as far as I can go. Once we have looked at an application and any objections there are against it, my colleagues and I will make a decision purely based on the facts put before us. I can say no more than that.”

“Well, thanks for that, Tom.” Chrissie's tone was heavy and flat as she realized that now she had to face facts. She had agreed to train both Will and his dog, but if he thought their involvement would make her back off with her objections to his planning application, he was
so
wrong. It occurred to her that the handsome payment had been for just that very reason, to make her think twice...like a bribe. The idea did not sit well.

“I'll speak to you soon,” she said, dropping the phone into its cradle. The rest of the morning would have to be spent in finalizing her objections and writing them out.

Half an hour later, Chrissie still sat in front of her blank computer screen. She had notes, plenty of them, but putting those notes into writing was a very different matter. Standing abruptly, she pushed back her chair and went into the kitchen to get a coffee. Coffee helped fix a whole heap of problems, but definitely not this one, she realized, as she ran things over and over in her mind, unsure how to start.

Surely health and safety came first? Or was it the environment? More tourists meant damage to the tracks and drystone walls that had covered the fells for centuries, tracks that the sheep here relied on. Uniquely hefted to the land, they knew their boundaries; too many tourists could change all that and alter their age-old instincts forever.

Going back to her computer with new enthusiasm, she sat down and started to type, her ideas now flowing thick and fast. Of course, she didn't want to sound too anti-tourism or they might think she was a crank. She would touch on the environmental and cultural impacts, then bring it back to health and safety, saying that while she was well aware of the importance of tourism in the Lake District, for the safety of the tourists who came here it was imperative that any accommodation provided for them should be situated lower down the fell. Most outsiders simply did not understand how dangerous these slopes could quite suddenly become, and accidents—even deadly ones—were a possibility.

She finished her last line with a satisfied smile.

Surely, when giving permission for tourist accommodation in what can often be a hostile and dangerous environment, the planning authority has a duty of care to their visitors and a responsibility to keep them as safe as possible.

She printed the document with a sigh of relief. There, it was done, and now all she had to do was send it off and wait for the outcome. She would have to tell Will, of course, when she found the right moment. He'd entered the application in the first place, she reminded herself, even after he'd agreed to put it aside. She'd try and casually throw it into the conversation, she decided, when they started the training next week. It wouldn't be a pleasant conversation, but she had to have it. The future of her home was at stake here, and that was way more important than any budding attraction between her and Will.

* * *

F
INALLY
,
IT
WAS
Floss's last day at High Bracken, and Max's first—not much of a swap. Chrissie had never been so sad to see one of her trainees leave, or so apprehensive about a new one coming in.

She was putting Floss through her paces in the training paddock to make sure she was totally ready to go back to her owner. Chrissie asked her to sit and wait, and as usual, the dog's obedience amazed her, and when she gave her the command “Away...away out,” the little black-and-tan collie ran counterclockwise around the Runner ducks. Gently and carefully, she herded the flock toward where Chrissie was waiting by the pen with the gate open.

“Lie down,” she called, and Floss dropped to the floor, never taking her eyes off her charges until Chrissie gave the command, “Come by,” to send her clockwise. When the ducks finally waddled in, perfectly calm, and Chrissie closed the gate on them, Floss began running round in crazy circles, knowing that her job was done.

“So, is that what you are going to teach Max first?” called Will from where he had been standing near the duck shed. She must not have heard him pull in.

Chrissie laughed. “I wanted you to see just how much you can teach a dog in a short time. Floss hasn't been here long and she's just had initial training, but hopefully she'll be coming back when the lambs are grown, to train on the fell with the sheep and the other dogs. Her owner just wanted the basics established, and then he can do quite a bit on his own. What we need to do with Max is to try and teach him to be more obedient...and obviously not to chase sheep.”

“That could be difficult,” groaned Will. “All he has to do is see a sheep now and he gets overexcited.”

“So that,” announced Chrissie, “will be our first lesson. I do have a way to deter dogs from chasing after sheep—it's a bit basic, but it works. I'll set it up for tomorrow.”

Will came closer as she let the ducks out of the pen into the meadow again and called Floss to heel.

“So will he stay here with you now?” he asked.

Chrissie shook her head. “Normally he would, but if you remember, you are paying me to train you, too, so as you're going to be very involved. He might as well stay with you—for now, at least. I'll give you training homework to do with him.”

Will fell into step beside her as she headed for the gate. “Are you sure that I'll be able to do it, though?” he asked uncertainly.

Surprised by his lack of confidence, she smiled. “I thought that nothing fazed you hotshot lawyers.”

“Well nothing in a court of law,” he said. “This is a bit out of my comfort zone.”

“That's because it's all about common sense, not words. Common sense, trust, an understanding of the way dogs think and a degree of discipline. Some of the sheep farmers around here only know discipline, but they will never get the best results if they rule by fear.”

Will nodded. “Well, you're right that words are my forte, but I really do want to learn all the other stuff.”

“Like what to wear,” said Chrissie, hiding a smile as she pointedly looked him up and down.

He grimaced. “You didn't like my country look or my city clothes, so I thought I'd just do casual.”

“Running shoes are hardly suitable for mud and wet grass, though, are they?” she remarked. “The country boots you had on that day were fine—it was just the tweed jacket and moleskin trousers that were a bit too country gent for a working day. City suits, of course, have no place here. You just need Hunter wellingtons or your country boots, a pair of jeans and a warm, waterproof coat. A wide-brimmed hat is often a good idea, too, as long as it doesn't keep blowing off. Comfortable and warm—that's what it's all about.”

Will laughed and Chrissie noticed how much softer and more approachable he seemed when he smiled. He really was two different people: the hard, career-minded lawyer and the man who was way out of his depth, floundering around in the country but desperately trying to get things right. Perhaps he was even three men, she decided, if you counted the goofy guy who always seemed to get it wrong but really made her laugh. Trouble was, she hadn't yet worked out which of the three was the real Will Devlin.

“Floss's owner will be here to collect her soon,” she said. “But if you come back with Max tomorrow—say nine thirty, to give me time to get my jobs done first—then we'll make a proper start on the basics.”

He seemed disappointed as he moved away, but then he turned back. “So will you be putting Floss through her paces for him?” he asked.

Chrissie shook her head. “He came over a couple of days ago and saw her working then.”

“Is he a farmer?”

“He does have a sheepdog that I am training to work the sheep, so...”

“Unlike me, you mean?”

Chrissie shrugged. “If the cap fits...”

“Perhaps I could stay until he's gone and we could make a start today,” he suggested, ignoring her slight jab.

He really is looking forward to getting started on this
, Chrissie thought with surprise. “I suppose that's fine,” she told him. “But I have some jobs to do first.” She liked the fact that he was so keen. It seemed genuine, which was a big step toward fitting in here. And if he felt like he was starting to belong, then maybe he'd be more likely to understand where she was coming from about the tourists. Maybe he could even come to share her passion for this way of life.

For the next forty-five minutes, with Will's help, Chrissie tidied up in the barn, taking down some of the makeshift pens she'd erected for lambing time that she no longer needed. They neatly stacked the hay bales and cleared out the dirty bedding with a wheelbarrow and shovel. Will had elected himself as chief barrow handler, and Chrissie smiled as she watched him stagger off across the yard to the muck pile with yet another huge load. He returned with a broad smile on his face, a healthy glow to his normally pale cheeks and Max bounding around him in circles.

“Who needs the gym?” he said.

Chrissie laughed. “There would be no need for people to go to the gym if they just did a proper hard day's work. Come on, that'll do for today. In fact, it's some of my work for tomorrow sorted, too, thanks to you.”

“You know, I never thought anyone would ever get me to shift muck,” said Will, leaning his fork against the wall.

“I never got you to,” Chrissie reminded him. “You decided to do it all by yourself.”

“So I did,” he agreed, catching her eye. “And I have to say, I quite enjoyed it.”

For a moment he held her blue eyes in his and the breath caught in her throat as she realized that his steely grays were now more softly sparkling silver. When the sound of an engine caught their attention, rumbling and chuffing up the lane, she felt a rush of relief. She didn't want this camaraderie with Will. The planning meeting loomed over them, and he didn't even know that she intended to stop his plans from going through. She needed to keep their relationship on professional footing. As it was, their training sessions hadn't even started yet and she was already losing her head.

The car shuddered to a halt right in front of them.

“Well, is she ready for home?” asked the elderly farmer who clambered out and hobbled toward them.

“Ready and waiting,” Chrissie said, letting out a low whistle. All the dogs came running, including Max, who bounded around like a clumsy pup but with ten times the strength.

“Sorry,” Will said, grabbing for Max's collar as the dog hurtled into the man's knees, almost knocking him off his feet.

Chrissie gave the command for Tess and Fly to lie down and called for Floss. “Time to go home, young lady.” Then she turned back to Will. “I'll just be a minute.”