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Because that way lay madness and regret. That way led to revelations she wasn’t ready to face. That way led to emotions and maybe Seb was right. Maybe emotions were too high a price to pay. Maybe stability was what mattered.
‘Where have you been?’ Daisy started as she heard the slightly irritable voice. She bit back a near hysterical giggle. Think of the devil and he will come.
‘I’ve been looking everywhere. Your mother is worried. Says she hasn’t seen you all morning and that you look tired.’ His gaze was intent, as if he were searching out every shadow in her face. In her soul.
‘I just couldn’t face any more in-depth discussions about whether as Violet’s best friend Will should count as her date, or if Vi and Rose should have the same hairstyle so I came out for some air.’ It wasn’t a total lie. The nearer the wedding got, the more she wanted to run. Funny to think that once she had planned for this, thought all these tiny details mattered.
Now she just wanted it over and done with.
‘Some air?’ Seb bit back a smile. ‘You’re almost at the edge of the estate. I couldn’t believe it when Paul said he’d seen you walk this way.’
‘I like it down here. It’s peaceful.’ The river wound around the bottom of the wooded valley, Hawksley invisible on the other side of the hill. Here she was alone, away from the fears and the worries and the nerves.
‘It used to be one of my favourite places when I was younger. There’s a swimming spot just around that bend.’
‘Shh! Look!’ Daisy grabbed his arm and pointed. ‘There’s another one. Do you think they’re mates? Do otters live in pairs?’ She dropped his arm to pull her camera back up, focusing and clicking over and over.
‘Not European otters.’ Seb spoke in a low even tone as they watched the pair duck and dive, their sinewy bodies weaving round each other in an underwater dance. ‘They’re very territorial so I think we might be lucky enough to see a mating pair—in two months’ time there could be cubs. They actually mate underwater.’
‘It looks like she’s trying to get away.’
‘The dog otters often have to chase the females until she agrees.’
‘Typical males!’
They stood there for a few minutes more, almost unable to breathe trying not to alert the couple to their presence until, at last, the female otter took off around the bend in the river doggedly pursued by the male and the pair were lost from sight.
‘That was incredible.’ Daisy turned to Seb. His eyes reflected her own awe and wonderment, the same incredulous excitement. ‘I can’t believe we were lucky enough to witness that.’
‘Do you think he’s caught her?’
She tossed her head. ‘Only if she wants him to. But I hope she did. What a project that would make—documenting the mating dance right through to the cubs maturing.’
‘I didn’t know you were into nature photography?’
His words brought back the look of utter incomprehension on his publisher’s face. Nature photography, high fashion, art—they were intellectual pursuits, worthy. Weddings, romance? They just didn’t cut it.
‘I’m into anything wonderful, anything beautiful.’ She turned away, a mixture of vulnerability and anger replacing the excitement, then turned back again to face him, to challenge him. ‘What, you thought I was too shallow to appreciate nature?’
He gripped her shoulders, turning her to face him, eyes sparkling with anger of his own. ‘Don’t put words into my mouth, Daisy.’
‘But that’s what you meant, wasn’t it?’ She twisted away from his touch, acidic rage, corrosive and damaging, churning her stomach. ‘A nature photographer wife would be so much more fitting for you than a wedding photographer. So much more intellectual than silly, frivolous romance.’
‘How on earth did you reach that crazy conclusion? This has nothing to do with me.’ Seb dropped his hands, stepped back, mouth open in disbelief. ‘It’s to do with you. Why do you always do this? Assume everyone else thinks the worst of you? The only person who puts you down, Daisy Huntingdon-Cross, is you. Photograph babies or weddings or cats or otters. I don’t care. But don’t take all your insecurities and fasten them on me. I won’t play.’
‘Why? Because that would mean getting involved?’ Daisy knew she was making no sense, knew she was stirring up emotions and feelings that didn’t need to be disturbed. That she was almost creating conflict for the sake of it. But she couldn’t stop. ‘God forbid that the high and mighty Earl of Holgate actually feel something. Have an opinion on another person.’
