stone wall.
‘Chaucer? I’ve heard of him. Writes in old English. Virtually impossible to decipher unless you’re extremely clever or a thousand years old,’ she bated.
‘I had a good, patient and very beautiful teacher.’ His eyes kept hers.
‘How very fortunate. I hear that teachers these days get bullied into performing Barry Manilow musicals.’
‘Chaucer would turn in his grave.’
‘Græf.’
Chapter Fifty-Three
He’d given her the tour of the house but his mind was elsewhere. As she admired the simplicity of the furnishings and ran her hand over the brightly coloured woollen blanket Colette must have added to the master bed, all he could think of was getting a moment alone to call his agent. If he dealt with this matter now he could limit the damage. Not for him but for her. He knew her. She would hate to be in the spotlight. Would loathe for her life to be scrutinised like that. If she knew they’d been pictured in the press she would want to do something about it. Back out. Change her mind. End their relationship. He couldn’t let that happen. Not when they’d just got back together.
He couldn’t leave her to disappear and make a phone call. His hand had been on his phone in the kitchen earlier when Emma had visited the bathroom, but Colette had appeared to say goodbye and the moment had passed.
Now Emma was sat in the garden, a book open on the table, her body leaned back into the seat, embracing the warmth of the sun as it rained down on her skin. She looked so relaxed. He watched her until it seemed she sensed his presence and she turned her head towards him.
He moved, being careful to hold the tray steady in his hands.
‘Should I be doing something?’ she asked as he put the tray on the table and then sat down beside her.
‘You want to do something?’
‘No, that’s not what I meant. I just… it’s almost eight and I haven’t lifted a finger to do anything since I got here.’ She smiled at him, watched him pour them both a glass of red wine.
‘You are my guest. Why should you do anything?’
‘I like the idea of that,’ she answered, picking up the glass and putting it to her lips.
‘I have arranged a car to take us to the harbour for dinner. We have an hour,’ Guy informed.
‘What?! An hour? Guy, why didn’t you say? I have to shower and change. I can’t go anywhere like this, I…’ She put the wine down and moved to stand up. He caught her arm and held her still.
‘You look beautiful,’ he whispered.
‘We’ve travelled for hours, I could definitely look better,’ she responded.
‘Just give me a minute,’ he asked.
*
Emma shifted in her seat, making herself comfortable again. Guy took hold of her hand and began to massage the skin with his thumb.
‘Having you here, it means so much to me. When everything was happening back then, with my mother, I never thought that this place, this house, could be home for me. It was filled with bad, angry feelings, raised voices, harsh hands. But when I lost Luc, although I knew I still had to get away, I somehow always knew I’d come back. That it could be different. That making changes would set me free.’
His words banged against her soul like a door being thrown open. What if she had reacted differently? What if she had stopped and let him explain? Even if there wasn’t an explanation she liked the sound of, she could have listened.
‘I’m sorry I ran,’ she said softly.
‘I understand. I didn’t understand it all back then, but I understand now,’ he answered, raising her head with a finger and exploring her face with his eyes.
‘I acted out of jealousy and spite and anger. I was a different person back then. I’d lost my mother and I’d put everything into loving you and you…’ She stopped herself. Couldn’t bring herself to say any more. ‘We’re doing it and we said we wouldn’t. This is a conversation we shouldn’t be having. I’m going to shower and change.’ She got to her feet.
‘Emma…’
‘I won’t be long,’ she replied, letting go of his hands.
*
Along with the day of travelling, Emma tried hard to scrub off the anxiety. She should have known this would happen. It was just a question as to whether her resolve would last. And should it? Shouldn’t she stop it now? Confess? Explain? Ask for forgiveness?
Towel-drying her hair she left the bathroom. As luxurious