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“Are you mocking me?” Beatrice asked with gravity.
He shook his head. “Never.”
“It feels like you are.”
“Then I probably am.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Aurora’s cheek. It was a completely conventional greeting for people who knew each other as they were supposed to. Yet it sent her pulse into a wild race against her veins, angry and frantic. Torrents of over-heated blood were firing through her, causing her heart to flutter. “Aurora,” he said, his voice thick.
“Leonardo,” she responded in kind, her eyes clinging to his before she realised how suspiciously they were behaving. Her smile required effort. She turned back to Beatrice as quickly as possible.
And so they sat, like two polite strangers, as the sun dipped lower over the English dales, and Beatrice explained the wedding day point by point. Beneath the table, their legs did not touch. Not a hair on their bodies so much as flickered to the other, and yet every second served only to increase Aurora’s awareness of Leonardo. By the time Beatrice suggested they get changed for dinner in the village, Aurora wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk.
Somehow, she made it to the room she’d been allocated, though her legs were not quite steady. A knock on her bedroom door a few minutes later had her heart racing. Surely it would be Leonardo. She pulled it open, an expectant smile on her face, until she realised that it was not the one person on earth she loved, with all her heart.
It was Alec, lopsided smile in place, and a bunch of roses in one hand.
She stared at him, her surprise obvious, until a mov
ement behind him caught her eye. Leonardo, his hands in his pockets, his head bent. He was staying on the other side of the house. The only reason he could have had for being in that corridor was surely to see her.
In that moment, she realised the extent to which her life was in a complete mess. The man she loved was out of her reach, and a man who loved her was someone she didn’t want. And yet, she cared about him too much to hurt him in any way.
“Alec,” she exclaimed, instinctively putting her hands on his arms and pressing a kiss against his cheek. “I didn’t think you and Peter were getting here until tomorrow?”
“We were eager to join the fun,” he drawled with an inflection of cynicism that had her laughing. “These are for you.” He held the roses out. “A gift for the Maid of Honor from the Best Man.”
“Oh.” She bit down on her lip and dragged it between her teeth. “That’s really thoughtful. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” He took advantage of her surprise to step inside her room and push the door shut behind himself. The last image she caught, before the door latched shut, was the mingled fury and angst on Leonardo’s face.
He didn’t join them for dinner in the local pub. The four of them took Beatrice’s new Mercedes – a wedding present from her parents – to the local, for a relatively relaxed night. Only Aurora was not relaxed. She was wound tighter than a spring. The way Leonardo had stared at her, with such blatant accusation, had made her despair. How could two people who were so right together be so wrong?
The following morning, Peter, Beatrice and Alec slept late. Far too much ale had been consumed by all except Aurora, who offered to drive them back to Farnley. As a result, she was up before the sun, wired and alert. She slipped on a pair of Hunters and grabbed her phone, and headed out in the early morning dew to tour the property.
Some kind of homing beacon called her towards the duck pond she’d fallen into as a teenager. With each step she took, she treaded back in time. It had been a blissful afternoon. She and Beatrice had sat in the tree house reading magazines that were far too old for them, learning all sorts of tricks for applying makeup and meeting boys, and then decided to go out on the water. Only their aquatic skills were far less developed than their cosmetic ones.
As she rounded the corner and it came into sight, she let out a sigh. It was beautiful. Long reeds punctuated the edges, and the water was a murky green. A solitary pier tickled the water, with old wooden planks that were sturdier than they looked. Two boats were moored against its timber end, and she walked towards one. “The Rita”; it had emblazoned on one side in dark blue writing. Her lips were a half-smile as she took great care to lower her legs into the boat, then the rest of her body.
It wobbled dangerously and she reached down to steady herself, waiting until the boat had stopped rocking before sitting on her bottom and staring out across the water, towards the Gardener’s Cottage, on the far side of the banks. She stretched her long legs before her, and tapped her toes together. Despite being Summer, there was a chill in the air at that early hour, and she shivered, wrapping her arms around her chest.
“It’s incredibly dangerous to be on the water wearing wellington boots.”
She startled, whipping her head around to see Leonardo standing just above her. He was wearing running gear; a pair of long black pants and a shirt. A sheen of perspiration covered his handsome face. “What are you doing here? You scared me half to death.” She lifted a hand and pressed it against her neck.
He held his hands up in apology. “I was running. I saw you come this way.”
She tried to slow her breathing but it was impossible. “So you followed me?”
He crossed his arms across his chest and stared out at the water. “I guess I did.”
“Why?”
“That’s a really great question.” His voice was loaded with bitterness. He leaned down, keeping his eyes on her as he moved his hands to the rope that tethered the small boat to the structure. “Take your boots off.”
“What are you doing?” She demanded unnecessarily, as he eased himself into the craft as though he’d done it a thousand times. Which, she thought distractedly, he probably had. He looped the rope around the front of the boat and grabbed the oars.
“Another great question,” he said with a lift of his handsome lips. “Take your boots off.”
A bird flew overhead, sending its early morning music across the property like dew drops in the breeze.
