Her British Bard (Dream Come True Sweet Romance Book 2)

by Darci Balogh

  "I think we should admit defeat," she suggested. "Apparently I'm not as good at puzzles as I thought I was."

  "Don't say that. We're not defeated. This is just a little more complicated than we thought it would be when we started."

  Sofia raised an eyebrow at him, "You're sweating." Parts of the front of his shirt were wet and his hair was damp at the temples.

  "Am I?" He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm then looked down at his shirt. "Nothing wrong with working up a frothy sweat during a challenge," he grinned and put his hands on his hips as if he had reached the top of a mountain. "Nothing wrong with going for the ol' brass ring. Using the ol' noggin and getting a workout at the same time. Nothing to be ashamed of in some good old fashioned perspiration!"

  Sofia giggled. "I'm sweating," she argued lightly.

  Ian looked at her in shock. "No, no, no, Luv...you're glowing."

  A tingle went across her skin when he called her 'Luv'. She looked down demurely, trying to hide the slight flush in her cheeks. When she lifted her eyes, Ian was still gazing at her and the air between them sparked. He still had his hands on his hips, but no longer in a comical way. His body had relaxed and his eyes were filled with something close to awe.

  The longer he looked at her, the more her body tingled. She thought she should say something, but she couldn't, or maybe she didn't want the feeling to stop. Ian stepped closer, his arms dropping as he hooked his thumbs into his front pockets. Sofia sucked in a breath. She knew what was coming. She'd had enough first kisses to know what it felt like to be mesmerized by another person, drawn into them. Her heart beat faster and she waited as Ian moved even closer, studying her face intently as he did.

  Inches away, he stopped. Sofia gazed up at him, her mouth parting automatically as if beckoning his lips to hers. His cologne smelled warm and inviting. His eyes searched hers and she felt like she might explode if he didn't touch her.

  "God, you're beautiful," Ian said. His voice was husky. His mouth so near hers.

  "Oi!" A shout came from above.

  They both jumped and looked toward the sky where the voice had originated.

  "Oi!" Again. It was the old man. The guard in the tower. "Maze will be closing in 15 minutes. Do you two think you could get a move on?"

  Ian chuckled dryly. His head dropped forward and he stared at the ground shaking his head, incredulous. Not only was there a witness to their intimate moment, it had been interrupted and made awkward.

  Ian looked up and called out to the guard, "Give us a minute, please."

  There was a slight pause, then, "I've got dinner with the wife in 30." The guard's voice was whinier than one might expect from a person with 'guard' in their title.

  Sofia giggled.

  Ian looked at her with one eye squinted closed as if the sound of the guard's voice hurt his ears. He sighed in mock frustration and, stilling looking at her, called out, "Give us a hint then!"

  "Turn around so you're facing the same as the lady. First right, second left, third left, second right and straight on."

  Ian's face screwed into comical concentration. He called out to double check, "First right, second left, third left, second right?"

  The guard nodded on his perch making the feather in his hat bob up and down. "Then straight on."

  Ian turned the direction Sofia was facing and offered her his arm. She took it and as he led her to the first right, he called out to the guard, "Thank you!" Then under his breath, "Perfect timing, by the way."

  Sofia laughed out loud.

  Ian's performance was brilliant. Sofia watched the reaction of the birthday party crowd and knew that they felt drawn to him and his music as much as she always did. The ballroom at this manor house held a few hundred people and all of them that Sofia could see from her vantage point at the side of the small stage thoroughly enjoyed him. Pride swelled in her chest and she couldn't help but feel giddily flattered when he would turn to her and give her a knowing look from the stage.

  Afterward, the glowing birthday girl gushed over him. "Aren't you adorable," she flirted. She wasn't a teenager as Sofia had expected, but a full-grown woman, late twenties at least, surrounded by a gaggle of girlfriends.

  "Gina stop drooling over your birthday present," one of the friends teased.

  The hackles on the back of Sofia's neck bristled. Gina was her name. Now she remembered.

  "But he's adorable," Gina argued with a slight slur. She reached out and petted Ian's bicep with a well-manicured hand dripping with expensive jewelry. She had obviously celebrated her birthday with a few drinks before the concert started.

  "He's sexy," another friend announced drunkenly to the world. She blinked lashes thick with goopy mascara and tried to focus in on Ian's face before saying sloppily, "You're sexy!"

  Ian handled the small group of privileged groupies with ease. He deftly accepted their attempts at compliments while maintaining proper physical distance from them to avoid being groped. He was professional, kind, and good-natured. As she stood waiting and watching him navigate the crowd, she understood logically that nothing about his actions should make her jealous. Yet jealous is exactly how Sofia felt.

  "Having fun?" A thin male voice spoke into her ear. She jumped at the sound and turned to find a pale, short man standing too close behind her. He giggled at her reaction and Sofia recoiled from his sour breath in her face. He held a cocktail and used it to point at her. "You the girlfriend?"

  "What?" Sofia responded.

  The man appeared to be her same age, but already had thinning blonde hair and an odd liquidity to his bulging eyes that she found repulsive. They reminded her of pale frog eyes.

  He leaned closer, raised his voice and enunciated as if she were partially deaf and didn't speak English, "Are you the singer's girlfriend?"

  Sofia leaned away from him. Honestly, his breath. She shook her head, partly to deny being Ian's girlfriend and partly because she wanted the strange little man to go away. A gale of drunken female laughter rose out of the crowd of groupies, capturing her attention.

  "Oh, I see, a groupie then," the man said. "But a shy one!" His shoulders crumpled as he laughed at his own comment.

  "Excuse me," Sofia dismissed him without a glance and moved to another section of the room. She supposed she could interrupt Ian's 'fans', but she didn't want to be the jealous girlfriend type. "I'm not his girlfriend, anyway," she muttered to herself.

  An insistent finger tapped hard on her shoulder. Sofia turned sharply, annoyed at the weird little man for bothering her again.

  But it wasn't the weird little man. It wasn't a man at all. It was Emery.

  Blonde, spiky bangs nearly covering one eye while the other eye glared hot at Sofia, Emery stood with one hand on her hip, the other holding an unlit cigarette. Her angry look raked Sofia up and down before she opened her pink slathered lips and asked, "What in the hell are you doing here?"

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sofia was so shocked to see Emery that she couldn't think of a quippy response. All she could do was stare at her in surprise, taken aback not only at her presence, but also at her open hostility. Emery took a quick step towards Sofia, who leaned back a little at the move. Was she going to take a swing at her?

  Emery smirked. "Not up for a scuffle over him, then? Not much of a backbone?" Emery scoffed disdainfully then placed the cigarette between her lips where it was immediately smudged with waxy pink lipstick. She lit the end with a faux jewel lighter and took a deep drag while giving Sofia a scathing look. When she spoke again, smoke puffed out of her nostrils and mouth. "Typical American." She blew what remained in her lungs directly into Sofia's face.

  Sofia's surprise disappeared. Heat boiled up through her chest and she narrowed her eyes, glaring unflinchingly into Emery's.

  "Don't blow your stink in my face," Sofia warned her. Emery's hardened expression flickered. Sofia had dealt with women like this before. They were bullies, thinking that if they acted tough nobody would ever chal
lenge them and they got to walk all over anyone in their path. Well, Sofia certainly wasn't afraid of this chiquita. "What is your problem, exactly?"

  "Are you following him or something?" Emery glanced toward Ian and the crowd of drunk groupies.

  "I was invited," Sofia retorted. "Not that it's any of your business."

  Emery took another drag of her cigarette and eyed Sofia. This time she turned her head slightly when she exhaled so the smoke went sideways. That was an improvement, but she wasn't backing off completely.

  "Gina is my friend. That's why it's my business." She looked toward Ian and the birthday girl again, the anger in her eyes temporarily replaced with pain. "That's how he got this gig, you know. Because of me."

  No. Sofia did not know that.

  She followed Emery's gaze to Ian and his adoring fans. He had just said something amusing, because they all squealed with laughter. Sofia felt sick to her stomach. He looked towards them, noticing Emery next to her for the first time. Sofia turned away from him before she could see his reaction.

  "He's going to be famous," Emery said. Still watching him, she hugged her arms in front of her, holding the burning cigarette limply between two fingers. She continued talking, but didn't seem to care if anyone was listening anymore. Her tone was more sad than bitter, "He's so talented. He just reaches into you and rips out your heart, you know?"

  Sofia did know.

  "He's got oodles of fans. People wearing T-shirts around, talking about him at the clubs. Robot Tellers this, Robot Tellers that," she laughed, but the sound held no joy. Ian was extricating himself from Gina and her crew, intending to join her and Emery. Emery turned back to Sofia in an attempt to look like she didn't care, but her fingers trembled slightly as she took another drag. Sofia saw the raw emotion in her face, a pathetic misery that she recognized as heartbreak. No longer irritated with Emery, she felt sorry for her. "Word of warning," Emery said as she looked Sofia up and down, this time with far less malice. "Woman to woman."

  "Okay," Sofia answered cautiously. She sensed that the threatening Emery had collapsed into a more depressed version, but wasn't completely sure.

  "Falling in love with a rock star is the pits. You'll always come in second," Emery said, then glanced over to see Ian moving quickly toward them, ready to intercept their conversation. "It's not worth it," she looked sharply into Sofia's eyes before turning on her heels and disappearing into the crowd moments before he arrived.

  Their drive back to London was long.

  Fury boiled in her core. Ian had drug her along on a weekend full of drunken party girls who panted after him like dogs in heat, not to mention putting her in the crosshairs of his unstable ex-girlfriend. Instead of the fanciful English country weekend she'd been promised, she had spent much of it watching him with his fans, avoiding Emery and the strange pale man who kept trying to talk to her, and generally feeling out of place and angry. She was angry with Ian, but she was also angry with herself. This whole weekend had been a mistake she should have avoided. All she wanted was to get back to her flat and the college. Period.

  Ian watched her warily as he steered the tiny, uncomfortable vehicle he called his car around the country lanes. It was an overcast day, but the lush green hills surrounded them, occasionally serving up a small farm or charming cottage. All beauty of the Sunday morning drive was lost on Sofia, however, as she fumed in the passenger seat.

  "So, that was fun?" Ian said hopefully.

  Sofia glared at him sideways, refusing to look at him directly.

  He cleared his throat and tried again, "Lovely day, isn't it?"

  Sofia scoffed then pursed her lips together. She had successfully sidestepped getting into an argument with him the night before by retiring early to her room. There was no need to blow up at him now. Soon they would be back in London and she would move on with her life. They weren't dating. An ugly conversation now wouldn't solve anything and there was, in her opinion, absolutely no point in working things out.

  They drove for a few more minutes in uncomfortable silence. Not even any music playing in the car. Just the droning buzz of the engine. Ian went along with her silent treatment at first, choosing to drum on the steering wheel, hum to himself, and check out the view through his rocker sunglasses. After a while, however, he began sneaking looks at her. Sofia could see him out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't react, just stared stiffly ahead.

  Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. "You're not talking to me, is that what this is?"

  She did not respond.

  He sighed. "You don't want to tell me what's wrong?"

  "No," she mumbled, then pressed her lips together again.

  "Oh! She's alive, ladies and gentlemen! And she hasn't lost the ability to converse!" He made crowd cheering sounds and wiggled his fingers against the steering wheel.

  Sofia turned a wicked glare on him. Not amused.

  In a fake reporter voice, Ian continued, "She has found her voice, Gerald, but she is definitely not happy. That much should be obvious to our viewers."

  "Stop it," she said crisply.

  "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

  She shook her head 'no'.

  He sighed again and looked away from her, frustrated. When he spoke, he did so looking straight ahead through the windshield. "If you don't tell me what's wrong then how am I supposed to know?"

  "It doesn't matter," she dismissed his logic with a wave of her hand.

  This time Ian scoffed. "Of course it matters. I took you on a weekend and you've been insulted...or hurt...or angered by something. What am I supposed to do about it if I don't know what happened?"

  "It doesn't matter because the weekend is over."

  "How are we going to move on if you won't talk about it?"

  "We? There is no 'we', Ian. There is no moving on."

  He was surprised and had to search for words to respond. When he didn't find them, he gripped the top of the steering wheel tightly with both hands. The muscles in his forearms flexed.

  Sofia was pleased that she'd finally hushed him, but that feeling passed rapidly. What replaced it was a sickening sadness in the pit of her stomach. To her surprise, tears welled up in her eyes and she had to look out of her window to keep Ian from seeing them.

  "It was Emery, wasn't it?" he asked grimly.

  She swallowed a hot ball of tears at the back of her throat, but still couldn't answer him. She turned her face further away, afraid he would see that she was about to cry.

  "I knew it," he said. "She's always doing this."

  That was too much. The sadness swelled to anger and Sofia turned on him, tears rolling down her cheeks, "Always doing what? Ruining your latest conquest? I am not an idiot. I have eyes, Ian. I can see that you love the attention of all those women. Don't blame Emery for the fact that you dumped her and broke her heart, ruined her forever. That's your fault. But don't you dare expect me to just go along with your little plan of seduction! I can see when someone is a player and I don't want to have anything to do with it." Sofia's voice rang through the small car and the echo of it hung in the air for a few beats.

  "Is that what she told you?"

  "She didn't have to tell me everything. I could see it on her face!"

  Ian was incredulous. "So, what? You're psychic?"

  "Don't."

  "Don't what?" Now he was getting angry.

  "Don't make fun of me," Sofia had stopped crying and wiped the tears off of her cheeks angrily.

  He looked to her then to the road then to her again before sighing with frustration. "I'm not making fun of you, Sofia. I'm trying to understand what Emery told you that would make you so upset."

  "Why? So you can smooth it over? Tell me that she lied?"

  Ian laughed humorlessly, "She did lie! That's what she does."

  Sofia blinked at him. She hadn't considered that Emery had been lying. "What did she lie about?"

  "For one, she broke up with me. Several times over the years. The last t
ime, by the way, was over a year ago, almost two." The tone of his voice became calmer as he tried to explain, "We were bad together from the beginning. She liked the fact that I was a singer, but she didn't want me to talk to anybody or perform. It was like she was jealous of the crowd." He glanced at Sofia and continued, "The crowd is part of it, you know. I can't do what I do without having fans. That's the harsh truth of it."

  Sofia felt ashamed at her insecurity over the drunk groupies. Then she remembered something else Emery had said, "Did you get this gig because of her?"

  "Is that what she told you?"

  "Did you?"

  He shook his head in disbelief. Then he half-shrugged and admitted, "Technically, I suppose that's true. She was friends with Gina and her family before I knew them." Sofia started to retort, but he interrupted her, "But Emery and I have known each other for a decade. We know the same people. I can't change that."

  "I'm not asking you to change anything," Sofia said hotly.

  "Okay, okay..." He watched her carefully for a few moments before continuing, "Like I said, though, we were never right from the beginning. I never felt like I do..." He paused and Sofia could see his jaw flexing as he contained what he was about to say. Just when she thought he wasn't going to continue, he spoke. His voice was soft and a little sad and he didn't look at her as he said, "I never wrote songs for her."

  Her anger sputtered like a candle about to go out. "What does that mean?"

  Ian kept staring out the windshield, steering the car with tense arms, working through what he should say. Finally, he simply said, "You make me want to write songs."

  Sofia's anger and hurt washed away in an instant. She knew without a doubt that the song he had sung in the living room the other night had been written for her. Her heart melted and the tears of anger were gone. But instead of leaving love and joy in their place, they only left an empty hole.

  Chapter Sixteen

  With nowhere else to direct her emotion, Sofia returned to work on Monday morning with furious intent. She went in a little early, the cool of a fall morning brisk on her cheeks. Happy to have something besides Ian to occupy her mind, she set about making a hot cup of tea from the cart and settled in at her small cubby to get some work done before anybody else arrived.