“I know this is all new and exciting to you, but for me fairies have always meant problems.”
“You sound like you are trying to put me off.”
“I’m trying to be honest.” For a change. And he wasn’t sure if it was simplifying or complicating things.
Lydia ate another piece of nearly cold pizza but her mind was on Caspian. He was staying, again. She pressed her thighs together but the ache in her belly intensified along with the butterflies trapped in her chest where her heart should be. She wanted him; she’d wanted him since the moment he’d appeared on the doorstep. She wanted him regardless of who his parents were or what he was. She glanced at the kitchen doorway.
Should she go after him?
And then what? Was he right that she should be afraid of fairies? The Greys, yes, she could see that. But Caspian? No, he was more human than he thought he was.
She cleaned up dinner and put the diaries away. It was too easy to get caught in the past. What had happened thirty years ago, or fifty years ago, didn’t change who she was. In that respect Caspian was right. It didn’t matter who her grandmother was, it didn’t change the love she had for Gran, or her love of the house. Before she went upstairs, she checked that the doors were locked, then she ventured up into the attic. Caspian had turned on the light but was still holding the flashlight to poke around the dark corners.
“What did you find?”
He flinched as if startled. “Baby clothes and toys. Things she couldn’t get rid of.” Things she couldn’t fit in the stable, more like. He pointed the flashlight to a corner. “You have a leak in the roof. There’s a lot of mildew. It’s probably a good idea to move the boxes in case they go through the ceiling. What’s below?”
“A bathroom, I think.” Or a bedroom. Was it really that bad? Her heart sank a little at the thought of all the repairs that would need to be done if she kept the house, on top of the fairy garden damage.
“Is there water damage on the ceiling below?”
“I’ll have a look.” She went back down the ladder and checked the ceilings. There were marks on the ceiling that weren’t just age-related. She didn’t want Caspian moving boxes and risking going through the ceiling.
She scampered back up before he could do anything. “I think so. I’ll call the insurance people and see what they say.”
“If it’s poor maintenance, I don’t like your chances.”
Damn. He was probably right. And it would be due to lack of care. “What do I do?”
“Clean the gutters and get a quote for repairs… if you aren’t selling. If you are selling don’t worry about it. The house won’t come down around you in the next few months. It’s probably been like this for years.”
How was she going to pay to get the roof fixed?
She smoothed her hair back from her face. “I can’t make any decision until the valuation is in.”
“I’m working on it. I think all of this stuff is either ruined or of personal significance only.” He walked back over, carefully ducking the beams in the very low roof space.
“So you’re done?”
“Yeah, there’s a few outstanding prices, but I’ll have it back to the company in a few days and they can inform the lawyer.”
Lydia forced a breath out between her teeth. “I may not have any option but to sell.”
“There’re always options. If your grandmother could turn it into a profitable business, I’m sure there’s something you could do.” A frown creased his brow. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know.” She nodded and smiled. From another man those words would have had entirely the wrong meaning, but not Caspian.
“What’s the split of the estate?”
“My mother gets the cash accounts. I get the house and whatever is left. Without cash I can’t keep the house.”
“It’s mortgage free?”
“Yes. But it needs work. A lot of work. I have my own mortgage and car payments. I can’t afford an empty house.”
“You could sell and live here.”
And rattle around like a lonely pea in a pod like Gran? But she didn’t say that living here alone held no appeal. She’d known this place when it was full of life and that was how she wanted to remember it.
“And lose money on my place?” It wasn’t a sellers’ market at the moment. She shrugged. “I know you’re trying help, but I’ve thought of everything.”
“At least get quotes so you know exactly how much you need to fix the place up.” He smiled, the white of his teeth catching in the light. “Quotes, at least, are free.”
“True.” She could do that. Maybe if she’d been more attentive while Gran was alive the house wouldn’t have gotten so shabby. But she hadn’t wanted to see that Gran wasn’t coping. Gran had always been strong and capable; to see her as anything else would mean acknowledging she was getting old.
“Hey. It’ll be fine.” The back of his fingers brushed her cheek.
“And you know this how?” He saw the past, not the future.
“Because I have faith in you.” He kissed her, not chaste or even curious. His mouth claimed hers as if he were starving for contact and needed everything she had. When his tongue swept over her lips she opened her mouth to taste him.
Lydia pressed her body closer, needing to feel him against her. Without words getting in the way there was no doubt about what he wanted. Her hand slid up his neck and her fingers threaded into his dark curls. The need that had been simmering in her belly broke free. She wanted him like she’d never wanted anyone. She wanted to sink into his touch and forget everything. A moan escaped her lips as his hand gripped her hip, and the length of his shaft pressed against her in a tempting promise of things to come.
“Not up here,” he murmured against her lips. “There are spiders.”
She opened her eyes and realized he was being serious. A moldering attic was not the best place to pick for a tryst. She took his hand and led him toward the ladder, an idea forming. He followed her down, which gave her a moment to check out his butt.
Caspian followed as she went down a flight of stairs, but instead of going to the room they were using she walked past to the landing that overlooked the entrance. She wanted a glimpse into the house’s past. She wanted a glimpse into what he saw, to understand him better. Asking him to do that in the bedroom wouldn’t be right, he’d already said he didn’t want to pry into those parts of history. But out here? Would he agree or brush her off? She saw his raised eyebrows and wondered if she was asking too much.
“I want to see what you see and be a part of the house.” What would she be saving by keeping the place?
“I can’t do that.”
“But you could tell me what you see.”
He looked at the wooden railing but didn’t touch it. “It’s not a party trick. I can’t be in the past and with you at the same time. Too long and reality and the past blur. It’s why I needed to eat and ground myself this morning.” He lifted his gaze to her. “You don’t want to recreate what has already happened.”
“Not recreate, but I want to know what it is you see when you are in the house.” She took his hand in hers. “Just let me into your world for a few minutes. I won’t ask again.”
She could see the possibilities spinning in his mind. He wasn’t used to talking about it let alone sharing anything about it.
“You could have asked me over dinner about the table.”
“It’s just a dining table. I was thinking something more… intriguing.”
He smiled and it hid a thousand secrets. “There’s no such thing as just a dining table.”
Eww. But then she remembered she’d been eating breakfast at that table since she was old enough to sit in a chair. What he was talking about was decades old.