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But how could I tell her about what I’d done to Domingo? And what he’d done to me in return? It wouldn’t help things. It wouldn’t make them better.
And she wouldn’t look at me with compassion any longer, but horror.
Because the other thing she’d always given me was hope. Hope that one day I could be the man she saw when she looked at me. Hope that I could leave Domingo behind in the past for ever. And he wouldn’t be if I told her what I’d done.
He’d be between us always.
So, no truth. But I couldn’t keep shutting her out and locking myself away. That wasn’t fair on her. That was about my own baggage, not hers, and she shouldn’t have to bear the brunt. Besides, I wanted to be with her. I wanted to spend time with her. I didn’t care what we did, just being together would be enough.
‘I’m not going to the cottage today.’ I brushed my finger over her cheek once again. ‘I will spend it with you. That is, if you’d like that?’
Her smile was like dawn breaking over a delicate landscape, illuminating everything. Illuminating me. ‘Oh, yes, I’d love that. What would you like to do?’
Warmth glowed inside me, as if the light in her face had somehow transferred itself into me. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘I’m not sure. I’ve never done things with a friend before, so I was hoping you could tell me.’
‘Idiot.’ Her voice was full of affection. ‘Of course you’ve done things with a friend before. We looked after a nest of sparrows together, remember?’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Jenny, I’m sorry, but I’m not looking after birds with you today. Or tomorrow. Or possibly ever again.’
She laughed, as if the sunshine had turned into sound. ‘Good. Because I have other plans.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jenny
ITSOONBECAMEvery clear to me that Con had put sex at the top of his list of things to do with friends, and he was puzzled when I suggested that we didn’t have to spend all day in bed.
‘But what else should we do?’ he asked, and I could see that he genuinely didn’t know.
Luckily for him, I did.
The thought of him being around all day, doing the kinds of things friends did with each other, filled me with happiness. Yes, I’d always been his friend, but that had been limited to the mansion in Madrid. We’d spent time with each other, but only in his study. Then I’d always wondered why he was so different with other people, but now I knew. It had been because of his father.
Today, though, Domingo was dead and Con wanted to spend time with me. I didn’t want to think about the past. I didn’t want to think about the future either. I wanted to enjoy the present while I could, because I had a sense that we had some difficult conversations ahead of us, about marriage and living arrangements and raising our child.
I’d voiced my worries about that, about my yearning for the kind of security and stability I’d never had growing up. Plus the doubt that underlaid all of that, which was the fear that he’d regret marrying me and leave me, the way my father had with my mother.
Some part of me knew he wasn’t that kind of man and never had been, but I’d needed to hear his reassurance all the same. Except it hadn’t completely eased all doubt. Some was still there, like a shard of ice in my heart.
He didn’t love me, and he’d said he’d never be able to give me that, and somehow that made everything feel precarious.
But I wasn’t going to think about it. And while spending time with him was probably a bad idea for my poor heart, I decided to ignore the danger. The future could take care of itself. I just wanted one day with the man I loved.
The weather was beautiful, so after we’d got out of bed—or rather when Con finally let me escape—and we’d had breakfast, I went off to speak with Mrs Mackenzie. Together we organised a picnic basket full of all Con’s favourite foods—I was thrilled to find some chocolate-covered strawberries lurking in the fridge, since he did like chocolate—and some of mine, plus a bottle of champagne for him and some sparkling grape juice for me. Then I asked her where the best picnicking places were around the loch, and she patted my hand and told me she’d get someone to arrange the picnic for us, so we didn’t have to lug a heavy basket around.
When I told Con I’d organised a picnic, he made a show of being miffed that he hadn’t arranged it himself, but I could tell he was secretly delighted. Which in turn delighted me.
Then he went and changed into some casual clothes—worn jeans and a black T-shirt—and every thought went out of my head.
I’d never seen him wear anything but handmade suits and formal wear, and he was to die for in those. In jeans and a T-shirt he was quite simply devastating. The cotton of his tee clung lovingly to his wide shoulders and broad chest, and the denim of his jeans hugged his powerful thighs. It almost made me consider scrapping the picnic and spending the rest of the day in bed, the way he’d suggested.
I’d looked around in the drawers for something casual to wear for myself, but found nothing. Apparently he hadn’t thought I’d want to go traipsing around the loch. I didn’t mind, though. Especially when he told me he’d prefer me to wear another wrap dress, since they were much easier to take off.
There was a trail around the loch, and at first he set a blistering pace, prompting me to grab his hand to slow him down. I told him that the whole point of this walk was to look at the scenery and talk to each other. He seemed mystified by that too, but he didn’t let go of my hand, his fingers entwined with mine warm and strong.
The setting was beautiful, the deep valley and the loch, the heather blooming on the slopes turning the whole valley purple.
‘What made you buy this place?’ I asked as we walked. ‘It’s a long way from Madrid.’
