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“From memory, we came here in a Range Rover.”
“When were you here?”
“Um, when I was little. We only came here once. My dad preferred our house in France or our Torquay house.”
“Why did you choose here?”
“You don’t like it?” I studied him closely. He wasn’t an easy man to read.
“I do. I just wondered.”
“Mother suggested it. I think she liked that the house is secluded. Maybe she’s worried Bram will find me.”
“She doesn’t need to worry with me here.” His gaze softened, and I wanted to remove my blouse and cuddle him.
Stop it. He’s your bodyguard, not your lover.
“It’s rather picturesque,” he said, as we drove through the iron gates of Lochridge.
“Legend has it they used the manor for a film in the sixties.”
“A horror movie?” His dry delivery made me chuckle.
“It’s not that bad, is it?” The overcast day did give the grey stone mansion a gloomy aspect. “The village is about three miles away. Surrounded by impossibly thick scrub and bent-over trees, it is rather remote.”
As we pulled up in front of the two-story house, I had to agree with Carson about the place looking a little dark. As a girl, I used to love and hate the scary stories that my brothers fed me, eventuating in me sleeping between my mother and father.
“I needed somewhere away from people.”
He did a slow turn, taking in the sights. “You’ve got that here. It’s very secluded.”
I studied him. Mm… secluded with him for a month. I sighed and felt an ache through my cleft. Was that pain or desire?
Both.
He must have read my mind because his eyes lingered, making me wish I’d worn my sunglasses to hide the black eye which was covered in foundation. Even applying makeup had become painful.
“Is it to your liking?” I watched him taking in the sights.
From where we stood, there was nothing but ocean bordered by craggy cliffs and windswept trees.
The sharp air refreshed and chilled at the same time.
“It’s stunning. Is there a path to the sea?” he asked.
“There is. I’ll show you after we’ve settled in.”
“I might even get to do some fishing.” His eyes had gone a soft amber, and he reminded me of a boy. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and smother him in sweet kisses.
“You fish?”
“When I get the time, I do.” He lifted cases from the boot and placed them on the ground.
“I didn’t know that. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He sniffed. “Because you don’t strike me as the fishing type.”
He pointed down at my four-inch wedges, which I reserved for uneven ground, like walking through the grounds of Merivale.
