Peasants and Kings - Emma Slate Page 0,84

family began to walk across the beach. The shore disappeared into a tree line and a path cut through to an area I couldn’t yet see. We strolled through foliage until we came to an open clearing. Homes that looked like cottages one might see eight hundred years ago dotted the glade. They didn’t have straw thatched roofs, but they were built from stone and massive wooden timbers.

“Was this island inhabited before Hadrian bought it?” I asked Ingrid.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Oh,” I said with a frown. “The homes… They look…”

“They’re completely modern on the inside,” she said with a wry grin. “But Hadrian wanted this land to appear untouched. So he had the homes constructed to resemble an old Scottish village. They’re well insulated and we have modern amenities. On the other side of the trees behind the homes, you’ll find the farm with all the livestock and the greenhouses.”

The wind changed, and I wrinkled my nose when I smelled proof of the animals.

Hadrian jogged over and interrupted my conversation with Ingrid when he wrapped me in his arms and lifted me off the ground.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, embarrassed by his show of affection, and even more embarrassed when everyone fell silent.

“Kiss me for good luck,” he commanded.

“You don’t need luck,” I whispered.

“Then kiss me because you want to.”

I was smiling when our lips met, and even though we had an audience, Hadrian kissed me like we were alone.

When he set me down, I wobbled. His arms quickly steadied me and then he chucked me gently under the chin. After a wink and a grin, he sauntered back to the field and to the kids who were impatiently calling for him to start the game.

I glanced at Ingrid who looked like she was about to say something.

“Please, whatever you’re going to say, don’t,” I begged, hiding my head in mortification.

“I was just going to say that I enjoy seeing Hadrian happy.”

Ingrid’s family finally stopped gawking at the display they’d just witnessed. The men of the family brought out folding tables and chairs. A few of the teenage girls who had seemingly deemed they were too cool to play the game hung back and helped the adults cover the tables with tablecloths.

“We weren’t ready for a get together,” Ingrid explained, “but between all of us, we have enough refreshments and food for the afternoon.”

“Can I help with anything?” I asked, hating that I was standing by, doing nothing.

She flung her hand in the direction of the stone wall that encircled the glade. “Go watch the game, and cheer for Hadrian every once in a while. It’ll make him feel good.”

The children surrounded Hadrian in the center of the big field. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. Hadrian flipped it and when it landed on the ground, Bran and his teammates yelled in excitement.

A smile floated across my face when I looked at Hadrian. He laid his mock disappointment at the coin toss on thick, but then he turned to the few kids near him and said something which caused them to shout in a sportsmanlike war cry.

I wasn’t a sports enthusiast by any means, but even I could tell that Hadrian was skilled. He wove and dodged, but he held back and mostly toyed with the kids to make them feel like they were beating him because otherwise there wouldn’t have been much of a game.

“Eden,” Ingrid called as she strode toward me with two clear plastic cups in her hands. She gave me one and then leaned against the wall to watch her grandchildren.

“Thanks,” I said, taking a sip.

“Who’s winning?” she asked.

“I think Hadrian’s team, but I’m not sure. Sports aren’t really my thing.” I was spending more time watching Hadrian than following the game.

She gestured with her chin to the field. “Bran is really good, actually. I think he might be able to play professionally one day.”

“Is he on a team now?” I asked. “I mean, he lives here. You all live here. How do you handle the isolation?”

“We take the helicopter,” she said easily. “Anytime we need to go to Lerwick. We’re not as isolated as you think. Besides, this is something of a paradise. If you haven’t already noticed.”

She called out to a weathered looking man who wore a cream-colored fisherman’s sweater. He sauntered toward her and came to stand by her side. “This is my husband, Elgin. He doesn’t speak a lot of English.”

He was tanned from the sun,

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