Chapter Twenty-Six
Between the Sheets was busy for a Saturday night.
Danny sat in the corner of the room, almost dozing off in spite of the conversations around him and the laughter from his friends. The usual crowd was there—Genie and Niall, Jonah, Billie, and Tess, with Beck behind the bar.
A few minutes ago, Hermione had made her way to the Ladies’, and Danny had switched off from the chit-chat and zoned out into his own private world.
It had been a strange day. After their semi-argument and Hermione’s distress the night before, he’d half-wondered whether when they arose that morning she would tell him she wanted him to go. She was leaving tomorrow anyway, heading south for her two-week journey around New Zealand that she’d pre-booked, and he knew he’d pushed her too far. She had feelings for him, of course she did, and she was trying to cope with the ridiculous situation as best as she could. All he’d done in forcing her to admit it was upset her, something he regretted now.
But she hadn’t asked him to leave, and instead they’d spent a quiet day walking around the grounds and along the beach, eating lunch on the deck, and then reading in the afternoon, curled up on the sofa together while a light winter rain pattered against the windows.
They hadn’t made love again. She hadn’t asked, and he hadn’t pushed it, content to make the most of just being with her.
That didn’t change the fact that neither of them had gotten much sleep over the past few weeks, which was why he was sitting in the corner, his eyelids drooping from the warmth of the room and the alcohol threading through his veins.
Around him, the voices suddenly went quiet, and he focused and blinked, surprised as they all started laughing.
“She worn you out has she, mate?” Jonah clapped him on the back. “Lucky bastard.”
Danny gave them all a wry look as they chuckled. “A bit.”
“You’re getting old,” Genie told him, toasting him with her cocktail.
“You could be right.” He yawned. “Gone are the days when I could catch a few hours’ sleep on someone’s floor and wake up fresh as a daisy.”
“I’ve never been like that,” Niall said. “I need to be in a bed, nightcap on, teeth in a glass before I can get to sleep.”
They all laughed.
“How much longer is she here for?” Billie asked.
“She flies to Auckland tomorrow afternoon.”
Their smiles faded. “That sucks,” Genie said.
Danny shrugged. “It was good while it lasted.”
Genie frowned. “Is that it? Is that all you’re going to say?”
“What do you want me to say? What is there to say? She’s getting married to another guy. She’s made that quite clear. We were only ever going to have a fling.”
“But you’re so perfect together,” Billie protested.
He picked moodily at the label on the bottle. “Yeah, well. The decision’s not mine to make.”
“Don’t be so defeatist,” Tess said. “Of course you’re part of the decision.”
He glared at his sister. “I can’t force her to stay, and I’m sure you wouldn’t approve of me handcuffing her to the bed.”
“Hey, what you do in your personal life is no business of mine.”
The others laughed, but Danny was too pissed off to join in. Luckily, at that moment Hermione came back, effectively ending the discussion.
Or so he thought. Tess had the bit between her teeth and was obviously determined to try to ‘help’.
“So you’re off tomorrow?” His sister smiled at Hermione as she slid into her seat. “Going travelling?”
“Yes, I booked it all ages ago.” Hermione didn’t look at him, self-consciously playing with the scarf she wore that hid the love bite he’d given her. Guilt twinged inside him, along with a tiny amount of smugness. “I’m flying some of the way,” she continued, “driving the rest. I wanted to see as much of New Zealand as I could before I left.”
“Nice idea.” Tess flicked her fingers at him. “Couldn’t you go with her, Danny? Take a few weeks off work?”
“No,” he said, the word coming out flatter than he’d meant. He cleared his throat. “I’m right in the middle of several projects, and anyway, I’m sure Hermione’s looking forward to escaping on her own.”
She gave a little smile but didn’t answer, concentrating on stirring the cherry on the stick around in her cocktail.
Danny glared at Tess.
Tess raised her eyebrows, telling him she wasn’t going to be intimidated. “Aw, that’s a shame,” she continued. “You two seem to be having such fun.”
“Tess,” Danny said, his voice little more than a growl, “that’s enough.”
“Well, really, someone has to say something because otherwise she’s just going to sail off into the sunset tomorrow and you’ll never see each other again. Is that really what you both want?” His sister looked surprisingly upset. “For God’s sake, why is nobody saying what we’re all thinking—that Hermione’s crazy to go back to England and marry this guy when she’s obviously so happy here?”
Danny pushed himself up, his chair scraping across the floor. “Because some of us know when to speak and when to keep our mouths shut, Tess. For Christ’s sake.”
He turned to Hermione. “Let’s go.”
For a moment he thought she was going to refuse. Twin spots of scarlet touched her cheeks, and she looked thoroughly embarrassed at being the center of attention. But she stood too, and gave each of them a hug in turn.
“It was lovely to meet you all,” she said, finishing off with Tess.
“I’m sorry,” Danny heard Tess whisper, “I didn’t mean to put my foot in it. I was just trying to help.”
“I know.” Hermione didn’t say anything else. Danny wasn’t surprised—there was nothing else to be said. The girls looked upset that she was going, the guys distressed because they knew how much he liked her, and those kinds of feelings didn’t come around very often.
“See you later,” he said to them, leading the way across the room.
As they passed the bar, Beck crossed to give Hermione a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry to see you go,” he said. “But I hope you had a good time.”
“I had a great time, thank you.” She hugged him back. “Take care of your beautiful son!”
“I will.” He smiled. She’d met little Edward the previous week when his mum, Josie, had brought him in to see Beck.
Waving a final goodbye, she headed for the door. Danny nodded to Beck and joined her, heading out into the cool midwinter night.
“Shortest day,” she said, shivering and digging her hands into the pockets of her jacket.
Danny looked out across the icy Pacific. It felt so different to a few weeks ago, when the evening had still held a touch of summer magic.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”
They walked the short distance to his car, both of them quiet, as if there was so much to say that they didn’t know where to start. They got in and Danny started the engine, then headed back along the road through Paihia to the house.
“Do you think Beck will get back together with Josie?” Hermione was looking out of the window, studying the dark shadows of the shops.
“I don’t know. Beck wants to, I know that. But Josie’s not so keen.”
“What happened between them, do you know?”
“No, nobody does. They won’t talk about it.” Sadness settled over Danny like a heavy woolen blanket. Love should be easy, he thought, but it so rarely was.
“What a shame. Poor Edward.” Hermione sighed. “Do you want kids?”
He slowed the car at the roundabout, signaled the turn, and pulled away. “I don’t know. I didn’t use to think so. I doubt that many guys think about having kids until they meet the right girl.”
“Do you think, when you meet the right girl, you’ll want them then?”
He set his jaw. He’d met the right girl, but it wasn’t g
oing to work out. He couldn’t imagine ever meeting another woman he would love enough to want to settle down and have a family with. I’m done, he thought.
Don’t be so defeatist. His sister’s words rang in his ears. They’d made him angry in the bar, but this time for some reason—maybe because it was growing late and there was so little time left before they had to part—they gave him hope.
He approached the road to the long drive to the house and slowed the car for the turn. Was he letting her go too easily? Should he make more of an effort to get her to stay? Her whole life was back in the UK, her job and her family, but somehow he thought that those things weren’t as important to her as they could be.
She turned her head to look at him, and he glanced over at her, seeing her eyes glittering in the moonlight. He wanted her to stay. Would he ever forgive himself if he didn’t at least tell her how he felt?
He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment she frowned and gestured in front of them. “We didn’t leave any lights on, did we?”
He looked back at the road, the drive snaking toward the house on top of the hill. It glowed in the darkness like a jewel, light from the living room spilling out because the curtains hadn’t been drawn. In front of the house was a car he didn’t recognize.
Slowing his own car, he stared at the two people moving around inside the house. One had a thatch of gray hair and a stocky build—William Spencer. The other he didn’t recognize—a tall, slender guy with dark blond hair.
“Fuck,” she said. “It’s Daddy and Richard.”
Danny went cold, then hot as anger seared through him. He didn’t care that it was William Spencer’s house—how dare they appear there and spoil the last evening he was probably going to have with Hermione?
He glanced across at her. She’d gone completely white. “You want me just to keep driving?” he asked, tempted to do just that—screw his firm, screw everything, and just head for the South Island.
But she shook her head and swallowed. “No. We’ll have to talk to them.”
He pulled up outside the house, watching as the two men saw them and walked toward the door. William opened it, and they came out onto the deck.
Danny’s stomach clenched and nausea rose in his throat. He knew he should offer to drive off and let her deal with it, but his clothes and belongings were in the house, and he was fucked if he was going to let Lord Dick get his hands on her.
He got out of the car and slammed the door. Hermione did the same, and walked around to stand next to him.
“You should go,” she whispered.
He looked past her, to where the men were staring at them, frowning. Doubt dried up the saliva in his mouth. It was possible she truly didn’t want to be with him. In that case, anything he said now could ruin the rest of her life in a few easy words. Did he want to do that to her?
They should have talked about it during the day, he realized desperately—he should have told her how he felt and discovered if she felt the same, but he’d left it too late, and now he was going to lose her.
“Hermione?” Richard walked down the steps toward her. “Darling? What’s going on? Who’s this?” The guy spoke with a rich, plummy accent. His eyes met Danny’s, slightly hooded and with a hint of lazy anger. Danny could see instantly that Richard knew perfectly well what he was doing there. He must have gone into Hermione’s room and seen Danny’s clothes there.
“He’s the gardener,” William Spencer said, obviously confused.
Richard smirked. The superior sneer on his face, and the knowledge that this was the man with whom Hermione was supposed to live for the rest of her life, made Danny see red.
He walked up to the guy, drew back his fist, and gave him a right hook across the jaw.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hermione squealed as Richard crashed to the floor like a felled tree trunk, and she rushed forward and knelt by his side.
He pushed up onto an elbow and shook his head as if there were tweety birds flying around it in a circle. “Fuck!” He waggled his jaw, and his expression turned thunderous as he looked up at Danny, who towered over him with blazing eyes.
“That’s enough.” William Spencer ran down the steps and stood between the two of them, one hand on Danny’s chest. “Go home, son.”
Danny pushed his hand away, but her father just put it back again. Hermione’s admiration for him rose several levels—Danny was six inches taller, thirty pounds heavier, and clearly furious, but William didn’t flinch and just said again, “Danny, go home.”
Danny glanced at her, desperation on his face, but she was so confused and upset that she couldn’t think what to say.
“Hermione,” he said hoarsely. “For God’s sake, you can’t marry this fucking idiot.”
Richard got to his feet and faced him. The corner of his jaw was already turning purple. “How dare you come to my father-in-law’s house and speak to me like that.”
“He’s not your father-in-law yet,” Danny snapped, “and let her speak for herself—or don’t you Brits let your women have a mind of their own?”
“Danny!” she said, appalled, and more than a little ashamed because she knew his reasons for saying it were a tiny bit justified.
“That’s enough,” William said to him calmly. “You’re upsetting my daughter, and I’m sure that’s not what you want.”
One hand on his hip, Danny ran the other hand through his hair, breathing heavily. “Of course not.” His gaze met her father’s. “I’m sorry sir. I love her, that’s all. I’m crazy about her, and I want to marry her.”
Hermione gasped and her hand crept up to her mouth. He hadn’t said the three little words to her yet, and he certainly hadn’t proposed to her. The two announcements at once made her feel faint.
Richard snorted. “As if the daughter of the Earl of Tiverton would marry a common farmhand!”
“Richard,” William snapped as Danny twitched. “Don’t be so rude.” He took Danny’s arm and led him back to the car. “You need to calm down and let me talk to my daughter. Then I’ll talk to you tomorrow. All right?”
Danny put a hand on the door handle of the car, then turned and looked at her father, anguish written all over his face. “She doesn’t love him, William.” He spoke softly, but Hermione could just hear the words. “I know some marriages can work without love, but it’ll kill her. Even if you make her go back to the UK—even if I never see her again... Don’t make her marry him.”
“Tomorrow,” William said firmly.
Danny looked across at her. Their gazes locked for a long, long moment, and she knew he wanted her to ask him to stay, but she couldn’t. While he was there, she couldn’t think, and she needed a clear head to sort this out.
He looked at the ground for a moment. Then he lifted a hand and fumbled in the neck of his shirt. She watched, puzzled, then realized he was retrieving the greenstone koru-shaped pendant he always wore.
He lifted it over his head, looked at it for a moment, then walked toward her and looped the cord over her head.
Mouth open, she let him, remembering what he’d said all those weeks ago, on the beach.
Maori say it symbolizes that the spirit of the person inhabits the pendant. If you give a pendant to someone else, you’re supposed to wear it for a while so you give them a part of your spirit as well.
His eyes softened and a smile touched his lips. Without saying anything, he turned away and got into the car.
Too late, she remembered that his stuff was in her room, but he’d already started the engine. Her chest heaving with emotion, she watched him drive away.
“Jesus.” Richard touched his jaw and winced. “What a thug.” His gaze slid to her, and a look she hadn’t seen before—resentment tinged with dislike—crossed his features. “What the hell did you think you were doing getting involved with someone like that? Bit of rough, was he?” His gaze slid to her neck, and Hermione raised her hand to find that her scarf had slipped. His resentful look turned to d
isgust, and her cheeks burned.
Lifting her chin, she walked forward to look him in the eye. “And how is Pippa, Richard?”
He looked down at her, his eyes cool, assessing her. Her fingers itched to slap him—Lord knew he deserved it more than Danny had ever done, but she kept her hands by her sides.
“We were never going to work,” she said. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize it before, but I can’t marry you. You’re not a bad man, and I’m sure you’ll make some girl a decent husband, but that girl’s not me. We’re done.”
Richard opened his mouth to speak, but William cleared his throat. “I’d like to talk to my daughter, please. Would you go inside and pour us all a glass of wine, there’s a good chap.”
Richard glared at her. A memory flickered in her mind of him asking what she wearing, and she shivered, lowering her gaze.
“I flew across the world for you.” He dipped his head to look into her eyes. “Just remember that.”
He turned and went inside.
Hermione exhaled a long, slow breath and sat on the stairs with a thump.
William studied her for a moment, then came and sat beside her.
Together they stared out across the lawns to the Pacific Ocean, which looked eerily still in the moonlight. She could smell the sea on the air, along with the fresh smell of newly turned earth. It reminded her of Danny, the way that beneath his aftershave the subtle, rich, comforting scent of the earth always lingered.
She ran her thumb across the pendant around her neck, and a lump formed in her throat.
“He’s done a good job of the landscaping,” her father said. “I had a walk around the grounds this afternoon. He’s more than delivered what he promised.”
Hermione blushed as she thought that the words could also apply to her relationship with Danny. He’d promised her fun, but he’d delivered so much more than that.
I love her, he’d said to her father. I’m crazy about her, and I want to marry her.
She put her face in her hands. She couldn’t possibly stay here in New Zealand with him. What about her life back in the UK?
An Ocean Between Us Page 19
