Much Ado About You(78)

“I doubt that.”

Ignoring his muttered comment, I hurried over to an older couple and asked them if they’d take a photo of Roane and me. They obliged and with giddy excitement I pulled Roane over to where I wanted him

“You’re so adorable.” He pulled me into him and stole a lingering kiss.

When I got my phone back from the woman who’d taken it for us, I discovered she’d snapped a few and one included the kiss. It was a great photo. “Look.” I nudged Roane to show him, and his lips curled at the corners as he looked at it. “I love it. I’m posting it to the ’gram.”

Roane was not on social media. He was far too busy and indifferent to public opinion for social media. However, he was so laid-back he didn’t protest about the fact that he’d become the hero of my Instagram profile. My friends back in the States pestered me with questions about him every time I posted a photo, but I never answered because I didn’t know how to explain our relationship. The only answer I could give was that he was the most wonderful man in the world and he was mine, but I’d prefer to say that to him first before announcing it on social media.

Posting the photo of us kissing along with a tagline explaining where we were, I had to admit to feeling a petty thrill. Some of those curious Instagram friends were the ones who’d looked on me with pity when I announced I was taking a break from dating at my thirty-first birthday. Some of them even shared smug “thank God it isn’t me” looks, thinking I didn’t see them. And nearly all of them asked me about my dating life before they asked me about anything else.

I wasn’t above a little smugness myself.

Poor Evie, living in beautiful England, having epic sex with a hot Englishman.

“What’s that look?” Roane asked as we strolled into the castle.

“This is my ‘my boyfriend is better than yours’ look, and I’m not ashamed of bragging.” I wrinkled my nose. “Okay, I’m a little ashamed, but what can I say, I’m not perfect.”

He gave me a confused smile and squeezed my hand. “What are you talking about?”

As we walked into a massive dining hall that made my lips part in awe, I absentmindedly explained.

Not surprisingly Roane was pleased. So pleased, he gave me hot eyes. He couldn’t give me hot eyes in a castle filled with tourists! I shot him a quelling look. “Tell me about the castle,” I said, hoping to distract him.

He smirked but began to talk as we walked through the opulent rooms. “It’s owned by the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland. They’re one of the oldest families in England, and this has been their castle since the end of the eleventh century.”

“Holy crap,” I murmured. “Imagine living with all that history. Knowing exactly who you are and where you come from dating back to nearly a thousand years.”

Roane nodded. “Aye, and it being what it is. Northumberland is considered one of the grandest and richest dukedoms, and although the castle is their official seat, they have three other estates across Britain. Moreover, Alnwick Castle is the second-largest inhabited castle next to Windsor.”

“Windsor Castle, as in the queen’s Windsor Castle?”

“Aye. Now”—Roane glanced at his watch—“we just have time before it closes, so let’s hurry.”

“What? The castle?”

“No. One of the State Rooms. They’re only open to the public for a certain length of time because the family uses them.”

“That’s so cool,” I murmured, hurrying to keep up with him as he maneuvered us through the castle, clearly knowing it like the back of his hand. Then he walked through a doorway, and my breath caught as I followed him in.

A library.

A magnificent, beautifully furnished library with a walking gallery above us.

“I thought you’d like this.”

My gaze moved from the rows and rows of leather-bound books to Roane. Love filled me to bursting, until it was a pain in my chest. “I like you,” I whispered.

I love you.

The words were on the tip of my tongue, but Roane took my hand and pulled me into the room to show me more, and just like that, the fleeting bravery I’d felt disappeared.



* * *



? ? ?

Well, that was great,” I said, cuddling into Roane’s side as we strolled through the grounds back toward the parking lot. “Thank you for bringing me.”

Roane raised our clasped hands and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “Anytime, angel.”

We were staring into each other’s eyes, probably looking like two people who were sickeningly in love, when someone called out Roane’s name.

He stiffened, his step faltering before he continued on.

“Someone’s shouting for you,” I said when Roane’s name bounced down the gardens toward us.

Roane drew to a stop and turned toward the voice. I followed his gaze and saw a tall middle-aged man in the estate’s garden uniform hurrying toward us. He was grinning at Roane as he brushed soil from his hands.

“I thought that was you,” the man said, drawing to a halt.

The man seemed friendly and happy to see Roane, but Roane maintained a distant, polite expression on his face.

“Fred.” Roane gave him a tight smile. “How are you?”