A Change of Heart

Jessie was looking like she might run off or be about to pounce on her and on top of everything she was trying very hard to win a battle against crying, so she turned on her heel and begin running, initially following the wheel tracks made by the quad, down the hill and then just downhill, not really caring where she was going as long as it was away from him. The slope of the hill made keeping her balance challenging, especially in rubber boots on damp grass, and from time to time she stumbled. She could feel her feet hitting the surface every step, forcing breath from her lungs, her heart racing and now she was crying to vent her embarrassment. It was an argument she couldn't win but she had to get away from a man that was as irritating as he was handsome and all she could think of was getting back to the hotel and calling a taxi so she could run away again, just as she had run away from her wedding.

Bill sat on the quad scratching his head as Jessie looked between them, eyes bright but ears flat. Dogs sense conflict before people know it's happening and they don't like it. He patted his thigh and she came over and sat on the ground next to him. 'God help me but women can make life more difficult than it is'. He thought. 'Try as I might I'm sure that I've said nothing to suggest that I'm married. Everyone knows Jessie... everyone except Gracie'.

He could of course send Jessie down the hill, wide to the right, and have her round up Gracie but that wouldn't be fair on Jessie. Sheep, at least, know what's good for them.

The fine misty drizzle that had been on the tops of the mountains for the past half-hour had now given way to rain he could feel on his head and he looked down the hill to where Gracie in the distance was stumbling through the tussocks of marsh grass, following a dip in the ground. It was a common mistake to make. The best ground to follow were the little shoulders that were dry and firm. The dips were wet and boggy.

The fine mist combined with the rain had already made it impossible to see the village in the valley floor and whatever Gracie's motives were for stumping off like that and however he felt about her throwing another tantrum, she could get into a lot of trouble if he left her so he started the quad.

"Jess... cottage."

That's all it took. Jessie ran out wide to follow the dry-stone wall up to the copse that sheltered the cottage; she'd be waiting at the door when he arrived.

It took only a couple of minutes to catch up with her and he wasted no time on ceremony, slowing and grabbing her as he passed, pulling her over his lap like a sack of coal slung on the back of a pack horse.

The land was wet and he turned the bike carefully before opening the throttle and racing the now heavy rain back up the hill towards the cottage.

He glanced at Gracie. She seemed ok and he was suddenly struck by a very erotic thought. Here was this beautiful woman laid across his lap, helpless. He should really give her a good spanking and then throw her on the bed and make love to her.

It would serve her right.

Gracie was furious at being manhandled like that and it was humiliating as well. Be it the shock at what he'd done or the pain in her ribs from the bumping as he raced the rain, she wasn't sure but she did know the breath was been knocked out of her but because of the speed she wasn't about to move from where she was, despite her discomfort. She could feel the rain drenching her back through the wool of the sweater but mercifully the journey was short and as he slowed she shifted, trying to ease the pain in her breast that was pressed hard against the muscles his thigh.

She pushed from the quad with all her might, not noticing that they were at a little stone cottage and Jessie was waiting. She glared at him.

"I'll have you done for kidnapping. You've hurt me!!"

She turned to look for a means of escape but her movement was too quick and she doubled over, wrapping her arms around herself in pain.

"Oh, oh, oh my God, it hurts."

Jessie scurried over, down on her hunches, sniffing her out first, then licked her face. At least she was glad to see her. Gracie was soaked through and had to squat to ease the pain but bit by bit the pain eased and she was ready to give Bill a piece of her mind.

"Why? Why me? What did I do? I only wanted a room and you've had nothing but fun at my expense and I was so hoping that

today would be better and now you've..." She had to stop for a moment with the pain in her ribs and the cold that was now getting to her.

"I want to go home."

By now she was shivering as her wet clothes clung to her, speeding up her loss of body heat.

Ok she thought, so she'd whined instead of having a temper tantrum but she believed she had good cause. Here was a man, a very handsome looking man, who at another time in different circumstances she'd..well... he'd put Charles to shame. But instead, she was trying to hide out from the wedding from hell but she met him and he thought that she was one big joke.

"And now I'm wet...You.........I'm...I'm cold Bill..."

She was deflating rapidly and seeing Jessie looking at Bill like he was king of the world she just wanted to cry and go to bed. But then a thought crossed her mind. Would she be going to bed on her own or with Bill? It was a tiny cottage and couldn't have more than one bedroom. He wasn't married and neither was she. Perhaps there'd be an opportunity for some payback and she was thinking that it could turn out to be interesting, perhaps even fun. She looked at him again and imperceptibly shook her head. Absolutely not. There was no way she was going to give that bastard the pleasure of bedding her, no matter how rugged and handsome he might be. In any case she was cold, chilled to the marrow and couldn't trust herself to think straight and more than anything, she needed to be warm.

"So, do we stand here all day or are you going to let me get out of the rain? I know it's your cottage so I'll pay if that's what's required."

She couldn't help herself, snapping at him, and to be fair, to other people as well. It was the way Gracie mostly dealt with the world. She'd been brought up to expect people to be at her beck and call and if she couldn't get her way she'd look for a way to get her own back or get round them with her feminine wiles and then get back at them later when they least expected it.

She tugged her sweater away from herself, feeling the water from it dripping down her belly and running under the waist band of her jeans. She wanted a bath, a nice warm bath and some tea so she put on her best little girl look and asked softly, as if she was about to burst into tears.

"Bill? There is a tub isn't there, a bathroom, maybe a power shower? I know your cottage is small but I'm freezing. Please tell me there's hot water and electricity?"

Bill stood listening, incredulous at Gracie's view of the world. Did she really think everything, everywhere ran like it did in Chelsea or wherever it was that she lived? Oh yes, there was electricity and a tub but not the way Gracie was used to or could even imagine.

The key to the cottage was hidden in a crack in the stonework and he opened the door and turned to Gracie.

Incredibly she was still whining on but perhaps it was the look on his face or the fact that her whining was getting her nowhere, but whatever it was she now tried a smile on him and he admitted to himself that when she smiled she was lovely, her face lit up, but he was angry with her. She was a bloody stupid spoilt little brat and if he'd left her to walk down on her own there would have been a hunt on for a missing person or perhaps worse.

He grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and marched her into the cottage. It was dark and cold but he could soon fix that.

She was soaking wet, the sweater clinging to her like a second skin revealing the outline of her shoulders and the tilt of her breasts and whether deliberate or not he hoped that Gracie didn't think she could get her own way by coming on to him. She might use it as a bargaining tool in London but it wouldn't work here and certainly not today. Whatever she did at home he was not impressed.

He handed her a box of matches and stood her in front of the fire.

"These are matches and that's a fire place. The fire is laid so all you have to do is light it."

He wasn't sure any of this was going in. Gracie had a blank look on her face.

"You do know how to use matches don't you? You were in the Brownies or the Girl Scouts? Or perhaps you know how to use them from smoking drugs? Whichever it is, light the bloody fire so we can get some warm in here and try not to burn the place down. I'm going to start the generator."

Outside in the rain he opened the door to the generator shed and cranked up the diesel engine. It started with a reassuring 'dug...dug...dug' and a flick of the switch powered up the cottage.

Powered up was perhaps an exaggeration. The generator provided enough electricity for the lights and the radio. Everything else was from the fire.

In the pannier of the quad bike was a picnic he'd made for lunch, cold chicken, bread, a bottle of wine and most importantly a vacuum flask of hot soup. Gracie's would need some of that very soon he thought, 'but I swear, one more whinge or whine out of her, one more 'fucking farmer' and, so help me, I'm going to put her over my knee and spank her. If she behaves like a child she'll get treated like a child.'

Gracie was stunned. Dragged into the house like a rag doll, berated for being a junkie, and handed a box of matches and pretty much told to fend for herself. The door closed behind him and she was mortified and hurt that he'd think she smoked pot or took any kind of drugs That and his rough treatment was so undignified and she couldn't decide if she was angry or upset.

Fucking farmer.

The cottage was cold with a small window that let in almost no light and furnished with a mish mash of furnishings, none matching, but she supposed it was alright for what it was but it was so cold and she could barely hold the box of matches, let alone strike one.

After several attempts and several broken matchsticks she eventually managed to light the dried papers and kindling, the white woody smoke rising in one fine string up the chimney. She held her hands to the flickering flames, fuming at the cretin gone outside, but with the warmth her anger soon subsided to be replaced with the hurt of his assessment of her.

She was determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her crying though it was a struggle. The last twenty-four hours had been horrible and the only decent moment had been breakfast and now he'd even taken that pleasant memory away.

She looked through a wooden trunk that was by the side of the fire. In it was some spare bedding but no clothing and she wondered about stripping and wrapping one of the blankets around her but she didn't want to send out the wrong signals with Bill in the mood he was in but she had to get out of her cold, wet clothes. She didn't trust him or herself but she was numb from the cold. She kicked off her boots and socks followed by the jeans and pullover.

At that moment, a lamp flickered into life on the table, and she heard the tone of the generator.

'At least there's power,' she thought.' and assumed that there'd soon be hot water, but she wasn't going to look for the bathroom in case he accused her of snooping, so she stayed put, the blanket over her head and wrapped around her shoulders, doing her best to hide her feet where the water in her boots had wrinkled her toes.

She looked up as she heard the door latch. Bill was carrying one of the panniers from the quad and she could see from his face he was in a terrible mood so she stepped back, backing away even from the fire. No one had ever spoken to her so harshly, not even Charles, but then they never argued, never even conversed or did much of anything and that made her sad at the waste of the three years she'd known him and at twenty-eight, to have invested so much time in a relationship that failed, enhanced her feelings of loneliness and worthlessness.

Bill didn't even look at her as he came in, as if she wasn't there and once again she let her anger get to her.

"Where's the bathroom?"

She could barely speak the way her teeth were chattering and she looked at him with hurt and an intense dislike for him.

" ... and I'm no junkie. There was no call for that. Whatever your opinion of me, you have that one wrong. Call me what you like, but I'm no junkie."

She should have stopped there but couldn't resist adding

"You dumb farmer."

For Bill, that was enough. He'd taken her in, put up with her tantrums and her sneering manner, probably saved her silly life and been sworn at and insulted.

'Family in Surrey? Ha! That was rich. His family had been in England since the 11th century and he could trace his lineage back to King Edward 1st. Dumb farmer? Ha! Where's the bathroom? Pah! Does she think she's in the bloody Ritz?'

He grabbed her and bent her over his knee, pulling the blanket away from her and spanked her.

And then, as quickly as it came, his anger was gone. He'd never hit a woman before and he was deeply ashamed.

He rubbed her bottom gently, trying to soothe the angry redness that he'd caused.

"I am so, so sorry. I shouldn't have done that. There is no excuse. Sorry." he said, pulling the blanket over her and helping her to her feet.

She pushed back off him. That Bill was embarrassed and ashamed there was no doubt in Gracie's mind but she knew she'd goaded him to doing it and she felt equally ashamed of her own behaviour.

She stepped back, gathering the blanket around her and turned to the stairs. She wasn't afraid now, or angry, just empty that it had come to this and disappointed in him and in herself.

When she'd misjudged him, thinking he was a married misogynist, he'd proved her wrong this morning, being so kind and attentive at the breakfast table and she was glad. But now, even if she had been behaving like a spoilt brat, there was no excuse for what he'd done.

"You shouldn't have done that Bill. No one's ever hit me before."

She didn't know what to do, where to go. Should she stay and risk another confrontation or try to make her way back down to the hotel? Then she heard the rain and the wind increasing in intensity, battering against the window and knew that was impossible. She'd wanted him in a rather twisted vengeful sort of way, to make him sorry for being such a bastard, but now she was sorry for wanting to hurt him and for behaving so badly.

She turned to face him.

"I'll go upstairs and stay there. I think it's best and can you let Jessie inside? It's very cold and wet out there."

Bill knew that he'd hurt her in more ways than one and was angry with himself.

Yes she was annoying and yes she was rude but she was also running away from something pretty horrible and needed help, not anger.

He went to the cupboard and pulled out a dressing gown and a couple of towels for her.

"I'll get things sorted out down here."

He heaped up the fire with logs and filled the water boiler. It would take some time to heat through but at least the cottage would be warming from the fire in the meantime but even with a supply of hot water he wasn't sure that Gracie would be pleased with the bathing arrangements.

Originally, the cottage would have been home for a shepherd and his family, all living together in the one room downstairs and all sleeping together in the one room upstairs. There was a pump in the scullery for drawing water and a 'two-holer' privy. People weren't so bashful about bodily functions then and at least with two people sitting side by side they'd keep each other warm in the winter.

He collected the bath from the scullery, set it in front of the fire and sorted out the picnic. There was a supply of tinned and dry food for emergencies like this including some par-baked bread and there was certainly enough to make a good supper for both of them.

There was also a bottle of whisky. If Gracie decided not to come downstairs again at least he'd have Jessie for company and a few nips for comfort.

Before too long the water was hot and he filled the bath. Jessie was in her basket by the fire, the cottage was full of the smell of baking bread and there was pot of hot tea to take away the chill.

He called up the stairs.

"Gracie, I've drawn a bath for you."

She'd heard him moving about downstairs and that made her feel more unwanted and guilty. She knew she'd been a royal pain and had taken her anger out on him.

As cold as it was downstairs, it was even colder in the bedroom and she swapped the blanket for the dressing gown he'd given her and then wrapped the blanket tightly around herself on top of the dressing gown.

She couldn't remember ever feeling so lonely and wished that he was talking to her and that she was talking to him. She also wished that they were friends, not this fluctuating barrage of emotions that hurtled back and forth between them. She knew that being spanked should have angered her more, even frightened her more, but when she looked back on how she'd behaved she could see that she'd incited most if not all of his anger towards her and then, totally unexpected, he'd called to tell her he'd drawn a bath for her.

There was no bathroom upstairs and as far as she knew there was none downstairs so she went down the stairs one tread at a time, trailing the blanket behind her and peeping over the banister.

The first thing she noticed was the heat beginning to travel up the stairs, carrying with it the aroma of freshly baked bread. The little cottage was now so snug and cosy with a fire glowing in the hearth. It screamed welcome, hello, come in.

And then she saw it.

An old-fashioned metal tub, the kind you might see in a period drama. It was battered and bruised and had definitely seen better days but it was sitting in front of the fire for her and she just sat on the stairs and cried. That he'd done this for her after how she'd behaved amazed and touched her so much, she honestly thought her heart was going to break. She didn't know when she'd really cried before with honest feelings, but right then she cried and weeks and weeks of worry and selfish wedding plans for just one day instead of a future, all bubbled up as she looked at the prettiest homely scene. A bath prepared just for her by a man that she both liked and despised, a man she feared and yet wanted, all done in less time than it took for Charles to get past his decision on which restaurant he'd take her to on their first date.

She looked at Bill and shrugged her thanks, unable to say a thing as she sobbed and hiccupped into the blanket. She went down the last few steps well aware that he'd see her naked but she honestly didn't care. At the moment this was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her and she went over to him, mumbled a quiet thank you, and turned her back to him while she dropped the blanket and shrugged off the dressing gown. The water was perfect and she lay back and closed her eyes for a moment and then turned to look at Bill.

"I'm sorry."

He smiled.

"I'm sorry too."

He poured her some tea and sat on the floor by the bath, so close that he could hear her breathing, just her breathing and the crackle from the fire and he started to wonder what it would be like having Gracie around all the time.

Was she really a silly, spoilt, little girl or was that just the way she'd always behaved? Could she adapt to the simple life here in the lakes, running the hotel with him and being up in the night for the lambing season?

Or perhaps she couldn't, any more than he could adapt to life in the city.

Well, it was just a thought.