the carved ceilings, and the staircase. They’re works of art.”
He nodded. “Those stay. The kitchen will be renovated and a few walls knocked out here and there.”
“Here and there? It’s perfect the way it is. Places like this need to be preserved.”
“And it will, wherever possible.” He placed his hand on my back and moved me along.
I studied him. “I’m sensing something.”
“Penelope, too many questions. It’s business. Now, let’s have lunch, and then I must visit the Cotswolds.”
I followed him silently to the car. His brusque tone hurt. It was difficult to believe this was the same man who earlier had asked me to wear a lacy teddy, only to tear it off with his teeth.
Then, there was the awkwardness of the night before. After a slow session of lovemaking followed by a more debauched session, he’d held me while our panting eased and then had gone to sleep elsewhere.
I lay there wide-awake. He’d warned me, and I’d accepted the deal, so I had no right to bicker.
In the middle of the night, blood-chilling cries had me scurrying out of bed. As I placed my ear to the door, I was riddled with indecision. He sounded tormented like he was in real pain, so I snuck into the room and found Blake writhing, his face contorted in agony. Although instinct screamed at me to wake him, I held back, which was wise, because the cries subsided, and within a breath he looked peaceful. Although I’d ached to climb in and hold him, as a mother would a suffering child, I had to creep out.
Blake’s sudden dark mood brought that experience flooding back.
“Have I done something wrong?” I asked.
“No. It’s just me. It was probably a bad idea bringing you here.”
“What?” That issued out of my mouth like a missile.
“I have to visit someone. You can either come with me, and you can sightsee, or you can stay here. I’ll pay for an afternoon spa session if you like.” He turned to look at me, and his face softened.
“What’s at the Cotswolds?”
“There’s an old friend who I visit. She looks forward to it, so I can’t not go.”
“She?”
“She’s not a young woman.”
“Is she your mother or a family member?” I asked.
His brow contracted. “Milly’s an old friend of the family.”
I nodded. “I’d like to go with you. That’s if you want me to.” I paused to think. “Or maybe you’d prefer me to go back on the train to London.”
He shook his head. “Of course not.” He sighed. “I’d like you to come with me. Only, I’m not big on questions.”
“Sure. I get it. We’re fuck buddies.”
“You’re more than that.”
He turned and gazed at me with that remote expression of his that hinted at someone in conflict with himself.
One hour later, after Blake decided he wanted me with him, we found ourselves in a picturesque village with rustic cafés and gift shops selling locally crafted products.
After lunch, Blake peered down at his watch.
“You’d best be off, I suppose,” I said.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll just head over to that charming pub over there by the duck pond. I’ll have a glass of wine and do some sketching.” I smiled, liking the sound of that.
He touched my hand and lingered. I sensed he wanted to say something, but I couldn’t read him. “Would you like to come and meet Milly?”
I contracted my eyebrows. “Huh? I thought…”
“Come on. I’d like you to meet her. She’s like a mother.”
“Really? I’d love that. Only why the change of heart?”
“I can’t say.” He turned to look at me, holding my hand. “Around you, I don’t know myself anymore.”
Is that good or bad? I was too on edge to ask. I’d already had my fill of questions for one day.
Ten minutes later, we drove into a grand old mansion set in stunning gardens, where people stooped in frames tottered while others were pushed along in wheel chairs.
“Milly’s very old?” I asked.
“She’s ninety,” Blake responded as he pulled into the car park.
He opened the door for me and helped me out, which I could have done quite easily myself, but I’d grown fond of his gentlemanly ways.
We walked up the path hand in hand. I felt like his girlfriend, even if I did wonder whether Blake was atoning for his earlier coldness.
The place resembled more a luxury hotel than a nursing home. I found my eyes drawn in all directions. The floor mosaic, for one, made me gasp with wonder, and the ceiling fresco made my neck