Much Ado About You(77)

I abruptly stopped, tense as a rabbit in the headlights of a car.

“Do you think I’d be this fucking persistent for just anyone, Vi?” I heard Lucas snap, his voice carrying up to me on the echo of the bare concrete walls.

Holy crap.

“Oh, so I should feel special because the great Lucas Elliot deigns to pursue me?” Viola replied, hurt apparent in her cutting response.

Lucas must have heard it too, because his tone softened. “You know that’s not what I meant. I just . . . I can’t let this go. I don’t think you can either.”

Holy double crap.

I pressed a hand to my chest, my heart beating hard for Viola.

“I told you that night on the beach that we can’t.” Viola sounded so sad. “You were right to push me away all those years ago because of your dad. I don’t want to cause problems between you and your family. I don’t want to be the person that causes such a rift.”

“Aye, you say that, but then every time I touch you, kiss you”—his voice deepened to a masculine huskiness that made my eyes widen—“you light up like a fucking fire. Are we just supposed to ignore that?”

“Maybe it’s just lust.”

“You think this is just lust? Goddamn it, Viola, if I wanted just sex, I could get it anytime.”

She snorted in derision. “Aye, I’m aware of that, Lucas. I am very aware of that. You’re practically legendary at uni. And I’m to believe I’m not just another shag for you.”

“You don’t believe that. You’re just saying that to piss me off.”

“Well, you do fuck other girls to piss me off.”

“I haven’t touched another girl since I realized you feel about me how I feel about you.”

“But we can’t be together!”

“Do you want me to go? Do you want to see me with someone else . . . because I can’t bear the thought of seeing you with another guy. I’d kill him.”

“You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that. We can’t. We can’t.” Her voice broke. “I’m sorry.”

“The choice about my family should be mine, Vi, not yours. It’s bullshit. It’s a lie. You’re lying . . . you’re tearing my fucking heart out, and I think that’s what you meant to do all along. You finally got one up on Lucas Elliot.”

Just before I heard the slam of the basement door, I heard Viola cry, “Lucas, no!”

Then the door slammed again as Viola chased after him.

I sagged against the wall, wrung out by the angst I’d overheard.

What the hell? How had these two become worse off than they were before my little seed of encouragement?





Twenty-Two


Sundays had become precious to Roane and me. For most people in the village it was a day off work, the day they visited church to worship, and an afternoon they gathered at one another’s homes for roast dinner, but agnostic Roane and I loved it for a different reason. It was the only day in the entire week when we could spend every minute together. The man’s body clock forced him to wake early every morning, even though we’d both agreed that we wouldn’t work that day. My own body clock seemed to have synced to his, and when I felt him stir, I rolled into him and kissed him awake so he wouldn’t get out of bed.

Although he rarely slept, he’d stay with me for a few hours, holding me, touching me, sometimes wringing me dry with multiple orgasms before the day had even begun. Then he’d leave me sated in bed while he showered, and I’d force myself into the shower while he made us breakfast.

One Sunday, following a traditional English breakfast, which made it hard to move for at least half an hour afterward, Roane finally drove me to Alnwick Castle & Gardens. It wasn’t something we could do without planning ahead because dogs weren’t allowed. Caro agreed to watch Shadow all day so Roane could play my personal tour guide.

The gardens were extraordinary. And by extraordinary I meant epic. We took our time, meandering through the twelve-acre estate. There was a beautiful cherry orchard and amazing tiered fountains called the Grand Cascade. We saw kids playing in little diggers and passed large wrought-iron gates with skulls and crossbones on them. Signs on the gates read these plants can kill.

“The Poison Garden,” Roane explained. “There’s around a hundred toxic plants in there. You need to book the guided tour to get inside.”

“Next time,” I said, morbidly intrigued. “And maybe we can eat at the Treehouse Restaurant then too.” The restaurant was exactly what it said on the sign. It was the world’s largest tree house restaurant. I absolutely needed to dine inside a tree house at least once in my life.

We ended up walking around the gardens for a couple of hours, my nose filled with the heady scent of roses, which seemed to permeate the entire grounds. Then finally we approached the castle, and Roane led me into the part of the grounds where they filmed Harry Potter.

“Oh my God, this is where they filmed the first flying lesson scene.” I gaped, turning around to take in the massive walled courtyard.

Roane grinned. “Well, I couldn’t say whether it was or not.”

I pointed to him but was still staring at the castle grounds in awe. “One day you’ll be Potter mad like me, my friend.”