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But the years had changed Baird and his knowledge of the world had hardened him, making him callous, ruthless, selfish. Or so Fiona had claimed.
Was it true?
Was he really that much of a heartless bastard?
Chapter Eleven
It really hadbeen the most wonderful day. A tremendous day, Ella thought, drawing a deep breath, so appreciative of it all.
They’d walked miles and toured museums—sometimes very slowly because Ella, who had to read everything, poured over each museum’s brochure. They had tea twice, just because Ella loved it so much, and now after a late afternoon rest, they’d finally found a little place for dinner. It hadn’t been easy getting in somewhere and so they finally went to the place that could get them in soonest, which proved to be a mistake.
It wasn’t the best food, and it was terrible service, the waiter forgetting to take their order, and then forgetting to bring drinks, and then getting their order wrong, and then disappearing in the middle of their meal, never bringing the condiments Baird had requested for his potato.
But instead of ruining the night, their awful experience just made them laugh and compare their most memorable dining experiences, meaning, other bad ones.
From horrendous dining, they segued into religion and faith. Ella told him she had faith. She was raised Methodist. Baird was raised in the Church of Scotland. Neither of them attended church regularly, although Ella definitely went more than Baird. She shared that she’d gone to a service on Sunday, Christmas Eve morning.”
“I didn’t know that,” he said.
“You were at the house making your Eton Mess.”
“It was a bit of a mess,” he admitted.
“It was delicious.”
“And the service on Sunday? Was it good?”
“It was. I needed it. I’m sure it won’t surprise you, but you have this way of tangling me up in knots, and I needed some calm and perspective, and I don’t know if I got a lot of perspective, but I left calm.”
“That’s something.”
“I agree.”
The waiter finally materialized with the bill, even though he’d forgotten to bring the dessert. Baird pointed to the missing dessert on the bill and asked to have it removed. The waiter didn’t even apologize but he did disappear to get it corrected.
“Maybe we should get a recommendation from the hotel concierge about where we have dinner tomorrow night,” Baird said.
Ella nodded emphatically. “That’s a good idea.”
“How about a drink at our hotel? They have a nice bar on the top floor.”
“Nice.”
It was a short walk back to the hotel and then a quick ride in the elevator. As the gleaming elevator doors opened, she could see across the dimly lit bar to the huge windows with an extraordinary view of Bath at night.
They found a low deep upholstered sofa near one of the windows and sat down. “What a view,” Ella marveled, unable to look away from the stunning Abbey and the Roman Baths, illuminated by yellow light.
“The Pulteney Bridge,” Baird added, gesturing to the covered bridge which had been inspired by Venice’s Rialto Bridge. “I’ll get drinks,” Baird said. “What would you like?”
“What are you having?” she asked.
“Something I can sip.”
Ella suddenly remembered how his mouth felt on hers, and it stirred the old longing. He had sipped her, tasted her, and she’d loved every minute of it. “I’ll have the same.”
He arched a dark eyebrow. “I’m having a whiskey. Get something you really want.”
“I’m terrible at this. Order for me if you don’t mind. Something you think I’d like.”
