Tales of Darkness & Sin - Pepper Winters Page 0,144

him to come right in—”

“I’ll get it,” I volunteered, trotting through the kitchen and down the short hallway to the front door. My mother renovates Ullswater once every five years it seems, but the front of the cottage remains traditional. A low-thatched roof with a wide wooden door set into a century’s worth of ivy and wisteria.

I swung the door open and ducked to step out into the cool autumn morning.

A man waited on the flagged walk just outside, and I had a glimpse of wide shoulders, a narrow waist, and muscular legs—all clad in a crisp tailored suit—as I greeted him.

“Hullo, new stepbrother!” I exclaimed. “Welcome to Ullswater—”

He turned, and suddenly, I couldn’t feel my fingers. Or my toes.

It was the prime minister.

James Caldron.

The man who’d rather build a stadium than preserve the past.

The man who’d kissed me and then shoved me away like I was poison.

He was my new stepbrother.

An hour later, I was sitting shell-shocked and sober at the small table outside, watching my mother make small talk with her new son. Her new son, who’d worn a bespoke suit to a damp alfresco brunch in Wiltshire. Her new son, who was the prime fucking minister.

He hadn’t said a word to me since he’d arrived either. Once he saw my face, he’d blinked once, hard, as though I was a ghost here to haunt him for his past sins, and then he’d simply nodded. Not at me, but almost at himself. Almost like he was saying, This is my unfortunate reality, but I shall persevere.

And then he’d pushed past me and entered the house, where he proceeded to greet my mother with all the cool civility he was so famous for.

It became very, very clear that he was pretending we had never met before. That the kiss had never happened.

That I didn’t know how his tongue felt, silky and searching against mine.

It became very, very clear that he still felt the way he had when he’d ordered me from his office. Like I was the last person in the whole of Britain he wanted to see. Which was ironic, given that our parents were now married, and we might be seeing rather a lot of each other.

It was warm for late November, but not so warm that I couldn’t excuse myself on the pretense that I needed to warm up by the Aga for a moment—and so as the brunch was eaten and the cold, stilted conversation was entering a lull, I did excuse myself and hurried inside.

After a moment, Mum drifted in after me, searching for a fresh bottle of bubbles to take outside.

“You didn’t tell me Nigel’s son was the prime minister,” I said weakly. “That was a shock.”

“It must have slipped my mind, darling,” Mum said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Nigel is quite proud of him, but we do talk about more than just our children. And politics is—well, it’s quite gauche to talk politics, don’t you think?”

“You’re not debating international fishing privileges, Mummy. His son is the head of government! That would be worth mentioning, I’d think!”

She gave a one-shouldered shrug, already nudging open the glass bifold door that led to the garden and the brunch table. “Well, you know now, I suppose.”

“But Nigel’s last name is Oldershaw,” I said, a little desperately. “Not Caldron—”

“Caldron was James’s mother’s name,” Mum said. “She and Nigel were never married, and she was frightfully modern about that sort of thing. Are you coming back out, or do you need another minute to warm up? I did tell you to wear that Merino jumper of yours. This cashmere one is much too thin.”

“I need another minute,” I said, forcing a smile and then giving a shiver for good measure. “I’ll be back out soon.”

She blew me a kiss and then went back outside, and I went back to brooding at the Aga. I didn’t know if I could go back out there and pretend. I didn’t know if I could trust myself not to notice how his shoulders tested the seams of his suit jacket or how his throat moved when he swallowed. I didn’t think I could stop myself from staring into those icy blue eyes or fantasizing about that firm, sculpted mouth.

I needed to leave. Yes, that was what I needed to do. I’d make my excuses to Mum and then drive home. In fact, I could simply call her after I’d already left and say it was...I don’t know, some