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His scent and voice wrapped around me and pulled me close. “I’m good,” I said and took a deep breath. “Your dad…is he feeling better?”
“He is,” he said, and I couldn’t get past the new air around him. He was lighter somehow, more amiable. Gone was the Harry wrapped up in arrogance, and in his place was a relaxed and friendly doppelganger. “He’s doing very well.” Harry pointed up at the main house. “Resting in his wing. He’ll no doubt be unable to resist making an appearance at some point. Even though he should, technically, still be taking it easy.”
It took me a moment to realize that our hands were still clasped, fingers loosely intertwined. I looked down at our joined hands and felt that subtle shifting sensation underneath my sternum again.
“Do you like the house?” Harry asked, his voice quiet, husky, and tentative. He appeared to be holding his breath waiting for my answer.
I laughed. “Harry, this isn’t a house, it’s…” I trailed off, taking in the view. Sighing at the beauty of it, I finished, “It’s paradise.”
His smile was so wide it lit up the air around us. I was pretty sure I’d died and gone to heaven. I could now see why my concussed brain, that day at the rec center, had believed him to be an angel. He looked like one now.
“Good,” he said and pulled back his hand. “I’m glad you think that way.”
“Harry?” A male voice behind us said. “Sorry to interrupt, mate, but we need you over here a second.” Harry nodded, but his body language made it clear he wanted to stay.
“It was nice to see you again, Harry,” I said, hoping he would read between the lines. That I was no longer angry. That the minute I saw him again, everything that had happened between us had fallen away.
“You too. You look…” A blush coated his cheeks, “You look perfect.” Then he was pulled away from me to a group of English men who gathered around a table. I inhaled the smell of fresh grass and took another offered glass of champagne and a strawberry.
I joined Sarah and Michael, mixing with the guests. As the night fell, and I felt like I had met everyone representing HCS Media from Paris to Hong Kong, I made my way down the stone stairs to the garden and along the graveled path, bordered with green and bursts of vibrantly colored flowers. The sky was pink and the orchestra played “Time to Say Goodbye” as I wandered aimlessly, absorbing the view. I knew I would never see anything like this again.
Stopping at the stone balustrade, I watched the rising moon glitter off the lake and the trees sway lightly in the summer breeze.
“Beautiful,” I whispered.
“I was thinking the same thing.” Harry was behind me, two glasses in his hands. His shirt collar was open as usual, showing me a glimpse of his toned chest. “Peace offering,” he said and held out the glass. Placing my empty one on the pillar next to me, I took it and Harry moved beside me to look out upon his land.
“You own all of this,” I said in disbelief. “This is your actual home.”
“It’s okay,” he said, shrugging. “But I’ve seen better.” I shook my head at his sarcastic joke and bumped his shoulder. Harry dropped his smirk and, clearing his throat, said, “I’m sorry, Faith. I’m so bloody sorry. For everything.”
I shook my head. “Don’t.” I leaned over the balustrade, resting my arms on the cool ancient stone. “But for my part, I’m sorry too.”
We were silent as the orchestra hit their dramatic crescendo. He turned to me. “Spend the day with me tomorrow.”
“But I have a day of archery and horse riding. You would pull me away from that?”
“I believe I would, yes,” he said dryly, fighting a smile.
“Then I must do what the king of the castle demands!” I said, mock exasperated.
“Prince,” Harry said. “Prince of the castle would be more fitting.”
“Well, I’m certainly not a princess.”
“Not yet,” Harry said, causing my heart to flip in my chest. I met his gaze and saw only seriousness in his eyes. I swallowed at the implication of his words and took another long, very deep, very copious drink of my champagne. “Spend the day with me, Faith. Then have dinner with me tomorrow night. We have a lot to talk about…” He hesitated. “If you’ll let me.”
Straightening from the balustrade, I faced Harry. My lord. Was there ever a man as perfect as he was? God had been very generous when it came to creating Harry Sinclair.
“Then until tomorrow,” I said and Harry smiled again, showing me those devastating eye crinkles. “I’d better get my beauty sleep. I need to sleep off my jet lag so I can enjoy all the fun activities you have to bestow on me in the morning.”
