by Sara Forbes
“Until when?”
“Absolute latest before the start of the semester for sure.” I suck in a breath. “The thing is, I've been very kindly offered a job in the family gallery here. It'll look great on my resume. It's almost impossible to get relevant work experience in the fine arts, and this'll really help. I'm staying here for two months maybe.”
While he's still digesting my announcement, I add for good measure, “I'm fine, Dad.”
“Are you? First you tell me Stig's in trouble and that you need to fly home right away, but then it's suddenly not a problem, he's disappeared, and you've decided to hang around there for two months because of some … job. What am I supposed to think, Hayley?”
“That I'm in the right place at the right time, Dad.”
“I'm not convinced. I'll fly over to you.”
“No, Dad! Let me do this. I'm not a child anymore,” I blurt.
I didn't mean to say it, but there is no other way to stop him taking matters into his own hands. “Don't waste money like that,” I add in a softer voice. “We'll stay in touch by Skype. I promise.”
He sighs, eyes forlorn. But there's still that knife I need to twist in his wound. My stomach tightens knowing that we're at a massive “before” and “after” threshold. After this point, he's never going to have the same level of respect for me—his darling daughter, his only child. Another brick of my pedestal is about to be cruelly wrenched away.
“There's another thing, Dad. I don't know how much you look at YouTube these days, but I think you need to see something, because you're going to hear it out of context from someone else for sure.”
“What?” he says warily.
“It's just … a sort of misunderstanding I was having in a nightclub with the duke.” I chuckle nervously. “It's kind of how we met, I suppose. He'd insulted Uncle Stig. No big deal, but you know how it is with social media—they blew it way out of proportion. I'm sending you the links. Just look at it later, Dad. Tomorrow morning, not now.”
When he clicks off, my heart's in tatters. I wanted to comfort him and to reassure him everything's going to be fine, but I've probably made him more miserable than he's been for a very long time.
18
ALEX
I AM SHOCKED BY HOW much I wanted to stay with Hayley in bed all day. Normally, I can't get women out the door soon enough, but all I can think of is her smooth, golden skin and how to get my hands back on it the minute I break free from work this evening. I hope she doesn't back out. She's given me some indication of her father's protectiveness of her and I sense she's missing him.
I want to set things up for her properly, giving her access to all the galleries, and all of Father's dusty cabinets of artwork, and the freedom to work how she wishes. But, much trickier, I need to get ahold of her uncle and find out if he's bought off the Azerbaijanis or what the hell. Once that's sorted, I can concentrate on making Hayley's stay as perfect as possible and make the most of our time together.
Inside the tower, I grab an espresso from our little Nespresso machine and I approach the door of the conference room. Through the half–open door, I hear my siblings yapping animatedly. I pause at the threshold. They haven't seen me yet.
Ken is talking.
“The carrots and turnip crop yields are in serious danger of slipping. The Easton tenants are furious. Brexit is making everything impossible, and here we are, wasting hundreds of man hours on this dumb wedding. That prince is obviously only using us to get Abbeydale to lower their prices.”
“Well, that's how tenders work,” Letty replies.
“Yes, and we don't need them. It's just an ego trip for Alex.”
I choose that moment to stride in.
Ken glances up at me, not a whit of embarrassment on his face. “And I reckon our chances are zero with the extra bad press we picked up. And when I say we, I mean you. Case in point, the last two YouTube scandals.”
I scratch my jaw. “I'm working on getting those videos taken down. Or Marty is, anyway. He still needs to identify who put them up.”
Letty pouts. “He's taking his time. I thought that spook could find out anything.”
“Give him a break. He's MI6, foreign service, not MI5.”
She blinks insolently. “I bet he's not really trying. Perhaps I should invite him here for brunch. Is he good looking?”
“No.”
She pouts. “Maybe he can help us find Seb.”
“He's already working on that,” I snap.
“We need to think of some other way to get Seb back,” Ken says.
“No.” I slam my palm onto the table, making them both jump. “We need to win this Saudi wedding, people, please, concentrate!” I gulp back a familiar wave of agitation regarding Seb, but something about the feeling has changed. At first, I can't seem to identify what it is, what's causing this strange anger to bubble up inside of me.
But then it hits, like an ice–cold arrow. No longer am I annoyed that my older brother left me with all this responsibility and all this trouble that I never asked for.
Now, I'm annoyed I'll have to give it all up.
19
HAYLEY
THERE IS NO OFFICIAL JOB description, but that's the beauty of it. I've been in the gallery all day, dusting off the frames. Time is ticking by as it always does when I'm in a zone of creative thought. I'd move all the neo–Bauhaus paintings to the west wing and those Warholesque ones here nearer the entrance—he seems to have amassed a lot of those. I could design a snazzy entrance lobby by the door and a website to attract viewers and potential buyers, if the Belgraves are up for that. This collection seriously needs to be hauled kicking and screaming into the twenty–first century and the floors need a good scrubbing, too.
The more I burrow deeper into the task, the more my staying here makes a weird kind of cosmic sense. Mother would have been proud of me. It's exactly the kind of thing she'd have done.
But when the daylight fades, my confidence disintegrates. The only people happy with our arrangement are Alex and me, and maybe Letty. Not that anything has been explicitly stated, but at dinner an hour ago when Alex announced the idea, I got the vibe from the dowager duchess that I shouldn't be interfering in her late husband's things, or at the least that I'm wasting my time.
I need to get out of this room. I need to see Alex, wrap myself around his hard body, to feel what I felt yesterday at this time when everything felt wonderful. I need confirmation that I'm not crazy for hanging on here, and the only thing that will do that is Alex giving me a good mind–blowing fuck.
Back upstairs, I ask Mrs. B if she knows where Alex is as she passes by with a basketful of laundry. “I think he's down at the stables, dear.”
I put on my coat and head down the flagstone path. Grasshoppers click in the grass and the dusk sky glows pink. From about a hundred feet away, I spot two figures—a man and a woman. The man is unmistakably Alex. Their conversation seems animated. I bash away a cloud of tiny flies and squint. It's not Letty with him. Someone smaller.
Oh no, the dowager duchess.
My first impulse is to turn and sneak back into the house. But it's too late—they've seen me because I swatted away those damn flies. I'm going to intrude if I progress further so I remain stupidly still, just standing there. I hear the name “Seb” being repeated. I know that's the brother who went on a holiday somewhere, but nobody talks about him. At least not when I'm around.
Well, now they know I'm here, so I may as well keep walking. When I reach them, their impassioned body language has normalized to stiff politeness and they're avoiding each other's eyes.
“Hey.” Alex comes over and swings his arm around me. I slacken against his hard body. At least he's acting glad to see me, if not exactly naturally.
“I'll leave you to it,” his mother says, tonelessly. She adjusts a winding plant on the trellis that was already perfectly arranged, and strides off, tugging her coat belt tighter around her trim waist. She looks great for someone in
her late fifties, a graceful ager, like almost everyone in their circle.
Over her shoulder, she gives me a frosty once–over. Is this woman going to hate me forever?
“Everything okay?” he asks me.
“You tell me. Is your mother upset with you? Me? Us? Does she even know about us?
“Yes, I told her.”
“I'm sorry to cause you this trouble. If—”
“No.” His arm tightens at my waist. “That's not it at all. There's … so much you don't know. All that you see, and much more that you don't. And frankly, I'd rather you didn't.”
I stare at him in confusion.
“In some ways, Belgrave Castle is a prison, Hayley. I have a love–hate relationship with it, if you will. Mother, she abhors the public and yet, we let them in thirty–odd days a year. One of those public days is coming up and she always gets angsty beforehand. My advice? Stay out of her way. I know I do.”
“But, why do you need to open it up at all?”
He gives me a long, rueful look. “The eco–farming business isn't as profitable as we'd like. It's barely breaking even. Maintenance sucks up the budget like a ravenous monster. We have to plan carefully just to keep the roofs intact. Oh, we're crammed with antiques, you can see that, and paintings, but Mother plain rejects the idea of selling anything off, and especially the idea of anyone coming in and evaluating the worth of anything in the house. The only thing I have any control over is new business.” He laughs a hollow laugh. “Sure you still want to be with me?”
“Of course, Alex,” I half whisper. At this moment, the man standing before me is less the entitled, playboy duke that the media would have him be and more the head of family trying to make the balance sheets add up, just like everyone else. And I like him all the more for it.
He sighs. “My ideal solution is to go all out and win a splendiferous wedding. A Saudi royal wedding. It would set the precedent for similar high society weddings. You just need one reference like this and they'll come in droves. Five or six tightly controlled weddings would be far superior to letting the public ramble all over the property thirty times a year. But who cares what I think?"
After this surprising remark, he proceeds in a brisk walk through the rose garden and past the paddocks. I'm keeping up, but it's tough going in these useless sandals. He doesn't say anything, just swishes a stick back and forth, idly slashing at some high grass leaning into our path.
When he finally speaks again, his voice is tighter. “I promise. We'll all be able to relax a bit more when this Saudi wedding business is resolved one way or the other.”
I study his worried face. “You can talk to me, Alex.”
He stops walking and turns to me. “I know, but I think you've enough problems in your own family.”
I grab his arm. “That doesn't stop me from caring what's going on with you.”
“Oh, sweet Hayley.” He tugs at the bow of my blouse until it unravels and his eyes, azure in the dusk, capture mine. There's an animal determination to his expression that finds a primal response in my body. A shiver of anticipation goes down my spine and nerve endings tingle all the way from my fingertips to deep between my legs. It's the moment I've yearned for all day and I'm already a goner. I shuffle closer to him.
20
ALEX
HAYLEY STANDS STILL FOR a second and then launches herself forward, grasping my shirt in her fist. I feel her pent–up energy. We crash together greedily, our mouths locking in a rough kiss. It's been too long since this morning.
She's tugging my shirt as she moves backward until she's up against the old beech tree. Through gritted teeth, she says, “Let's do it. Here. Now.”
My cock springs to life and I peel the blouse away from her neck, covering her mouth and jaw with kisses that brand her mine, completely mine. Out here in the sunset, her hair burnished an intense copper, it's like the denouement of a cowboy film. Except this one is going to be X–Rated, if I have anything to do with it.
Luckily, we don't have any neighbors for miles around, because she's naked. I take one greedy look at her golden skin, the curves of her breasts, the waves of her hair draped artlessly over her collarbone. I place my hands on her hips. “Turn around,” I say, gently maneuvering her.
With only a flicker of hesitation in her beautiful eyes, she complies. “Put your hands up against the tree,” I whisper in her ear. Keeping my flat palm firm between her shoulder blades, I ease her forward. There's another moment of hesitation in her body but I keep the pressure on. “Trust me.”
She leans forward, grasping the fat trunk of the tree with splayed fingers, letting out a giggle that turns into a sigh when I smooth my palm over the curve of her lower back. Then, as if to push me over the edge, she arches even more, her ass high in the air, creating an irresistible silhouette. Her concentrated silence and her rapid, shallow breathing tell me she wants this. I caress along her spine and down toward her crack until her gasping turn to moans, and she's trembling. I can't hold out much longer either.
I inch my palms over her buttocks, letting my fingers move slowly to her throbbing core. She's so wet already. When I make contact with her clit, she groans in relief, giving me a prelude to the ecstasy she'll be feeling soon.
“Oh God, Alex, please.”
Her sweet moans turn my brain to mush. These condoms have been burning a hole in my trousers pockets all fucking day. I always have them with me now. Belt untied, pants falling, I free my cock, sheath it, position myself carefully at her soft, wet entrance. She nods, and I drive my hard length into her in one thrust. As we work up a rhythm—me thrusting, Hayley pushing back, gripping the knots in the bark as leverage, I reach around and clasp her mouth to muffle her groans of pleasure. She's trembling, sucking and biting down on my fingers. I pound faster until she goes over the edge, collapsing forward. I keep my grip on her hips as her moment of ecstasy draws out and I follow straight after, pouring everything I have into her.
21
HAYLEY
AFTER A SHATTERING ORGASM, I come to, woozy. I'm leaning, spent, still gripping onto a tree so tight that the bark crumbles in my palm when the waves of pleasure finally recede to a level where I can think again. I suppose it's comical that I have a duke inside of me and we're gazing over a meadow where Gandalf and Frodo are looking curiously at us, the two naked humans doing something unspeakable up against their fence.
"Ah, look at them," I say.
"Don't worry, I've seen them do worse with the fillies on Gordon's farm." Alex drapes my shirt over my shoulders and leads me to the stables, the nearest building.
Sitting on the same bale of straw I sat on before with Letty, I shake the dust off my clothes and get dressed again, feeling scratches of straw remnants all over me. I can't believe how fast and furious that was. I couldn't have stopped it if I'd tried. And I'm not hurt, just a little raw, and pretty horny.
It only occurs to me when I'm fully dressed to check whether we were within view of the house and I peer out the stable window. To my relief, there's a huge wall and an orchard blocking the view.
“We're crazy,” I say. “They could have seen us.”
He comes over to sit on my bale of straw, kisses my forehead, my cheek, my neck. “God good, no. I was sure of that. I hope I wasn't too rough.”
I shake my head.
He cocks an eyebrow. “Too gentle?”
I break into a smile. “Just right. Perfect.”
“That's what they all say.” He grins and leans back against a wall of straw, elbows crooked behind him, the picture of smugness.
I push his chest playfully and I'm silent, just letting the endorphins buzz around me in the dusk like the tiny dust flies. I wish I could capture this moment and bring it back home with me fully intact—the visuals, the smells, the sounds, and the amazing feelings.
“I told Dad,” I say. “Told him I'm staying here for a while. For two months to be precise.”
Alex sits forward, elbows on knees, and rubs his hand
s. “Yes, I was going to ask. So, is he okay with that?”
I shrug. “Could be better. But it's my life.”
I'm doing my best to sound nonchalant. Alex has no idea how hard it is for me to leave Dad at home, worrying his head off, and how weird it feels to have weeks of this strange life of nobility ahead of me. At the same time, I don't want him to feel I don't appreciate the opportunity. And yet, I'd be lying to myself if I denied the real reason I'm here. And if that ever changes, it'll all come toppling down like a house of cards.
“He misses you,” Alex says.
“Yeah." I slide into my jeans. “Let's get back to the house. Call me a princess, but I prefer satin sheets under me, not straw sticking into every goddamn orifice.”
“I love it when you talk dirty.” He brushes back my hair from my collarbone, pulls out a straw from my hair and blows it away. There's lust burning in his eyes and that's good because I'm ready to go again.
“So, how many times have you made love in a field?” I ask him, idly trailing my hand up his impressively hard thigh. It must come from swimming. I've never heard him mention any other kind of sport.
“Never.”
“Okay, up against a tree then?”
“I've fucked against a tree before.”
“Different tree?”
“Completely different tree.” His gaze is unrelenting, its intensity pinning me back against the straw. “But never made love.”
“Oh, there's a difference?”
“Yeah, there's a difference.”
My heart's beating so hard, it pushes words out of my mouth. “Care to show me? But not in a field?”
His hand reaches out and he entwines his fingers in mine. Then he pulls me up to standing and draws me close into his beautiful, hard body. “It would be an honor.”
22
ALEX
