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“Don’t worry, it’s acceptable. The dress demands it takes centre stage, no undies required.” She chuckled.
“I’m not worried, but 'tis hard to look at anything else.” He dragged his attention away and stared back at the house, as if piecing it together with his memories of the place.
Sunny did up the leather straps on the picnic basket and rose to her feet. They sauntered back to her little Fiat and she locked the basket safely inside, before they approached the Hollingswell
Hall entrance.
Several tourists were already gathered for the two-thirty tour.
Cullen scarcely seemed to notice them. He appeared to be a million miles away.
With an ache in her heart, Sunny faced the fact he was homesick. He’d wanted to come here today because he was missing his family, that’s all there was to it, and she had to toughen up and accept it. He’d leave her soon enough, whatever the outcome with Fox. No matter what he said in moments of passion. His obligation was to a past time. He wanted to go inside his home, he wanted to do the full tour. He obviously needed to connect with his old life.
And there she was hoping he might stay forever.
Up until a few days ago, she’d been almost certain he would stay. He seemed content. They were so deeply in love. Life was perfect. She tried not to count the days, but it was hard not to be reminded, not to savor every moment and wish for more time.
Now they were here, tension rang between them.
Cullen was preoccupied, and Sunny felt the presence of Fox looming closer by the moment.
The tour guide rapped her clipboard against her thigh and ushered the party of tourists together for the commencement of the tour. The dark clouds scuttled closer. “Let’s get started, before the weather turns,” the guide announced.
Cullen cursed under his breath.
Sunny looked at him, surprised. He appeared to have taken an instant dislike to the guide for some reason, which was something totally out of character for him. In their time together, Sunny hadn’t witnessed him clash with anyone. Presumably he couldn’t bear to see what he felt were strangers lording about in his family home. He had a scowl on his face that could turn milk.
With each passing second, her chest grew tighter, her hopes for the future fading as she felt him being lured away from her by the past. Perhaps when Fox appeared, Cullen would go willingly? Her planned actions may never come to fruition. Her heart ached at the thought of it, but it was Cullen’s choice, always had been. She’d fight for him, if he gave her a sign he wanted her to.
“Cullen?” She took his hand and he looked at her as if he’d forgotten she were there. “Don’t you want to go inside?”
“Yes, yes.” His tone was terse, but he gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I do, most definitely.”
The tour group set off, moving along a red carpet walkway through the grand downstairs rooms at an agreeable pace, while the guide delivered a non-stop catalogue of facts with a superior expression on her face.
Cullen’s gaze darted about the artifacts on display while he muttered to himself, catching the guide’s disapproving glance on more than one occasion. “Why are there ropes in front of the furnishings?” he whispered to Sunny.
“To protect them from tourists,” she replied.
“Hmm.”
Sunny kept a close watch on him. His expression remained tense and disapproving until they entered the large parlor, where things rapidly deteriorated into sheer animosity between him and the guide.
“As you’ll see, this room houses the collection of family portraits, including work by several masters of British art, depicting five generations of the Thaine family.”
Sunny could feel annoyance emanating from him. It was building by the second. She turned to the painting he was staring at and her hand leapt to her mouth. Cullen’s image was there on the canvas. Much younger, a teenage boy, but it was him, undeniably.
“Unfortunately, this particular work wasn’t dated by the artist,” announced the guide, “but we’ve had our experts look at it and it has been dated to the early 1790s.”
“1788,” Cullen corrected.
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” The guide quizzed him with a look of annoyance.
“1788. The painting was done in 1788.”
The tour guide stared at him for several moments, her lips fastened in a tight line. Then she turned away dismissively and directed the group’s attention away from the surly member of the troupe, and back to the painting.
“The Thaine family depicted here are the third generation of the family to be residents in the house. They were responsible for extending the estates, and the generation with perhaps the most infamous Thaine family member.” She pointed up in the direction of the two young brothers, as if she wasn’t sure which one it was. “Cullen James Thaine, who—legend has it—was said to have become a notorious captain of high seas around the West Indies.”
