by Ally Blake
“I’ve been seen before.”
“But they’ll see me, with you.”
“Let them.”
He gave her a look then, a look she’d never been given in her life before. Yet she understood it all the same. Deep down in the most primal, private, female part of her she knew.
Will Darcy was staking his claim. Not for ever. He didn’t believe in for ever. But for now. Which, for him, was still a very big deal.
“Are you sure about this?”
Will took her by the hand and tugged her into his arms. “I called our friend the Prince this morning.”
Whoa. “And said what?”
Will rubbed away the frown that popped up above her nose. “I gave him a brief, G-rated, rundown of your stay. He asked how the soup was. I changed the subject.”
She coughed out a laugh.
“We had a long talk about many things and found ourselves in absolute agreement.”
“You did?”
They had. “The first thing we agreed on was that the mourning period was over. The photos of us are true and the world has to get over the fact that they are out there. Time to get on with getting on.”
“The palace won’t like it.”
“The palace can bite me.”
“Wow, Will Darcy, them’s fighting words.”
“I was always good in a fight, even as a kid. Scrappy. Not one for following the rules. I’ve also never been one to skulk in doorways, and I don’t plan on making a habit of it now. So what do you say?”
But she couldn’t say a single thing. She was too busy trying to find her feet. Not sure whether to laugh or cry or scream, or turn cartwheels. The only thing she didn’t have the urge to do was run. She simply placed her hand in the crook of his arm and smiled.
Outside, the day was glorious. Freezing, as if the first tendrils of real winter were coming, but sunny.
Sadie took a great big, bracing breath. “Are we waiting for the car?”
“I thought we’d walk.” And off they went.
Once they hit the end of his street, the crowds began to swell. Tourists and locals. Shoppers and workers. A bustling, noisy, energetic mob.
Being around people once more, for the first couple of minutes Sadie panicked any time someone looked their way, but as Will pointed out landmarks—places he drank coffee, a half-court where he played basketball, the Shard—she began to relax. Besides, no one looked at her twice. Not when she had Will at her side. He drew enough gazes, both admiring and envious, for the both of them.
“So, what do you think?” he asked.
Sadie smiled at Will before realising what he was looking at. A good-sized Tudor building—white with brown trim—lay just ahead.
The Globe Theatre—the modern-day “home” of William Shakespeare.
Sadie wasn’t sure she could feel any happier than she did in that moment. Until Will pulled two tickets out of his pocket. “Much Ado About Nothing—what do you think?”
Speechless, she nodded. And followed as Will led her inside.
And as the play unfolded before her, a simple, brilliant telling of a complex, bittersweet tale, she knew she was done forcing Shakespeare down the throats of high-school kids who weren’t even close to being ready to appreciate the language she loved so dearly.
It was a job she had revelled in for its battles and its victories. A job that had fallen her way. A job people expected her to love.
Just as New York had been something everyone had assumed would be a dream come true.
But defying expectations wasn’t such a bad thing. And if it meant following her heart, doing what made her happy, and tapping into her bliss, then even if people didn’t quite understand the choice, surely that had to be better than the alternative.
She glanced at Will to find him watching her.
And, not caring if anyone was watching, if anyone knew who they were, she gave him a smile that started at the little place marker he’d burned onto her heart. She slipped her hand through his arm, leant her head on his shoulder and let Beatrice and Benedick sweep her off her feet.
* * *
Will could not remember the last time he’d taken a morning off work on purpose. But it had been worth it.
He’d followed the play to a point, but had found Sadie far more entertaining: the spark in her eyes, the grin that near split her face in half and the tears when everything came good. She saw the world like someone who was on earth for the very first time.
She was practically skipping as they left the theatre. “That was amazing. Just...wonderful. It’s been so long since I’ve seen a real, live, professional Shakespearean production not put on by sixteen-year-old kids. I feel like I’ve been banging my head against a wall for years! That, Will Darcy, was an epiphany. I cannot thank you enough.” She threw herself at him then, wrapping him in a hug that took him only a second or two to return. “Now I have to check out the gift shop.”
While she did so, Will checked his phone. A dozen calls had come in while his phone had been on silent.
Not wasting time to check the messages, he rang Natalie.
“Hello?”
Will checked his watch. Dammit. It was late over there. “Natalie, apologies. I didn’t check the time—I’ll call back later.”
“No, wait! Give me a second to get to my desk.” Much shuffling and banging of doors, a squeak of a desk chair and... “Right. So I’ve been on to his secretary and she seems to think we’ve lost our chance but—”
“Sorry. Whose secretary?”
“Ah, the prime minister’s.” A pause, then, “Did you not get my messages?”
“I’ve yet to listen—”
“Why on earth? You always check your messages. In fact, you’re pedantic to the point of anally retentive. My cousin Brianna read somewhere that men with your looks, your brains and your sex appeal—”
“Natalie.”
“Yes. Sorry.” A breath, then, “He had space for you this afternoon. At two. Then he was flying out of the country for eight days.”
Will checked his watch. It was a little after four.
“Send me the number, I’ll call—”
“I’ve already checked. It’s too late, Will. He’s gone.”
Eyelids lowering, Will swore. Swore some more. Then pressed his phone against his forehead.
“Will? Will, are you there?”
“Thanks for trying, Natalie.”
“That’s okay. I wish I could have done more.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said, right as Sadie came out of the gift shop, her gaze scanning the area before landing on him. “It’s mine.”
* * *
Something was wrong.
After all the excitement of the play, the sweet thrill of freedom and the hot, burning delight of love that was pulsing through her like radio waves, all the extra layers in the world couldn’t have saved her from Will’s chill.
Once they were back inside the warehouse, thawing out, she got up the guts to ask, “Will, is everything okay?”
“No, actually.”
“What happened?”
“It’s nothing. A work matter.”
As soon as he mentioned work, she felt him pulling away, heading into a bubble inside his head. Her instinct was to let him, but something bigger made her reach out and clamp a hand around his arm.
“Will, tell me. Maybe I can help.”
He looked at her then, the creases at the edges of his eyes deeper, but not from smiling. Her heart slowed, her blood turning sluggish, as if preparing itself for a winter freeze.
“I may have mentioned my old professor at some point.”
Her memory skipped and raced until it found the moment she was looking for. “The one who encouraged you to wonder.”
“He passed away earlier in the yea
r, not long before your wedding invitation arrived, in fact. Which is by the by. Anyway, he had been point-man for a research grant at our old university for decades. On his death it was marked to shut down. It’s cumbersome and prohibitively expensive. But it’s also imperative to the long-term success of astronomical research in this country.”
“What an amazing legacy.”
Will’s eyes flashed and she thought she had him back, but he ran a hand up the back of his neck, dislodging her hold on his arm at the same time.
“I was guaranteed a chance to meet with the prime minister to urge him to continue the grant and have been waiting for news of the time. It came through this morning while we were walking. The meeting was set for the same time the play began.”
Sadie swallowed, the burn of ignominy tingling all over her skin. “Can’t you reschedule? Go bang on his door, right now?”
Will looked down at the floor, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. What had Hugo said? Will wasn’t an island unto himself, he was a planet.
“Will—”
“My work, my achievements, my reputation open doors for me where others wouldn’t even get a look-in. But this was my chance. My last chance to truly honour a man who made all that possible. I forgot myself and screwed it up.”
Sadie’s stomach clutched at the disappointment in his voice. Worse than disappointment. Devastation.
Her throat was like a desert as she said, “It’s my fault.”
He looked at her then, really at her. And she realised in that moment that he held her heart in his hands.
“It’s mine. For thinking I could do this.”
Sadie didn’t ask what “this” was. She didn’t have to. She’d been right with him as this thing between them had played out, unravelling, exploding, taking them over. She’d held his hand on the street, she’d felt his eyes on her as they’d watched the play. They’d both been held in thrall of a moment in time where their worlds had aligned and all things had seemed possible.
He was determined to take the blame, but Sadie knew it was all her. This was what she did. She got intoxicated by possibility, by the chance that this time things would be different. She dragged others along for the ride, only to end up bathing them in her chaos.
She wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to stop the trembles that were taking her over, years of practice helping her summon a smile from nowhere. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve been amazing. Heroic even. I know how much you’ve sacrificed in rescuing this damsel in distress. And if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you—”
“You are no damsel, Sadie, and right now I’ve never felt less heroic in my life.”
He gave her a long look. Of ruination and despair. But beneath it all hummed that heat. The magnet that kept pulling them back together even when circumstance, fate and history had tried telling them it wasn’t to be.
It felt as if the universe was holding its breath.
Then he took a step away. “You’re right. I can’t take no for an answer. I need to attempt to fix this. Look, do you mind if I...?”
“Go. Go! I can take care of myself.”
“Good. Thank you, Sadie.” Then he jogged up the stairs towards his office, pulling the door shut behind him.
And Sadie brought a shaking hand to cover her mouth.
She was in love with Will.
She knew it. She’d spent the morning bathed in it like a divine glow. But even that hadn’t been enough to stop her from being his downfall.
Sadie couldn’t feel her feet as she made her way to her room. And there she slowly, deliberately, packed her things.
She took off Will’s jacket, folded it neatly and put it onto the chair in her room. She made the bed, tucking in the corners like an expert. She grabbed some tissue and wiped down every surface she’d touched.
All she’d ever wanted was to feel safe somewhere. Or with someone. Even while her life raged in chaos around her, she’d felt safer the past three days in Will’s company than she could remember feeling ever before. His stoic strength, his quiet confidence, were like a balm to her frenetic soul.
Which was a big part of why loving Will, and leaving him, meant now she was scared. Terrified. Shaken from the top of her head to the tips of her toenails.
But she had to do this. For him.
With one last look around the room she made her way to Will’s office.
He was on the phone, pacing, papers strewn across the surface of his desk.
He was an important man doing important work. Work that he believed made him the man he was. Sadie would have begged to differ, but she knew he wouldn’t hear it right now even if she stripped naked, sat on him and forced him to listen.
He put his hand over the microphone. “Sadie, sorry, you’re going to have to give me some time here.”
“I’m going one better.” She hitched her bag on her shoulder and he stopped pacing.
Grey clouds swarmed over his face. He opened his mouth, no doubt to tell her she was being dramatic, and maybe she was, but she stopped him with the international sign for stop. “I’ve called a car service. They’ll be here in ten.”
Running a hand down his face, he hung up the phone and strode around the desk until they were toe to toe. The creases around his eyes were so deep, so concerned. Frustration poured off him in waves. “Do you really have to do this now?”
“I really do. It’s past time. And you know it too.”
Hands on hips, he looked over her shoulder, into the middle distance, his big brain working overtime. “I’m not a selfless man, Sadie. I’m not going to make a song and dance out of this. I’m not Hugo.”
“I’m very glad you’re not Hugo.” It ached not to tell him why. To tell him that she loved his particular brand of strength. His stoicism. She loved his stubbornness and his lonesomeness.
She loved him.
“You’ve been incredible, Will. A good friend to Hugo. A good friend to me. You gave me sanctuary when I needed it most. But you’ve given up enough to help us. Too much. Today proved that.”
She tried to put it into words he’d understand. Nothing lasts for ever. But the words wouldn’t come. It hurt too much.
Instead she leaned in, placed a hand on the bruise over his heart and kissed him on the cheek. Then, because she wasn’t perfect, she took him by the chin, fresh stubble scraping the pads of her fingers, and turned his face so she could kiss his beautiful lips.
He resisted, caught in that vortex of disappointment and frustration. But only for a fraction of a second. Then he hauled her against him and kissed her with everything he had.
If it had been any other man kissing her so that her kneecaps melted, she might have put it down to the urge to get his own way. But Will was not a game player. He was a man of integrity and might.
If she was a betting girl she might have thought that kiss was his way of showing her he was beginning to fall for her too.
But all bets were off. It was time for her to go.
She pulled away, pressed herself back, held herself together by the barest thread. “Thanks, Will. For everything.”
He said nothing. No goodbyes. No understanding nods.
But neither did he look like a statue. He looked ravaged, like a man braced against a perfect storm.
Holding that image in her heart, she turned and walked away, down the stairs, out the front door and into the car waiting to take her to the airport. Where she’d take her chances with being recognised, holding her head high.
For she was running again, but this time it wasn’t out of fear. This time she was running away for love.
As the tears ran down her face she felt as if she’d done the absolute right thing for the first time in her life.
No one would throw her a parade, or pat her on the head and tell her well done. She’d make no new fa
ns out of this. But she knew, and that was what mattered.
CHAPTER TEN
SADIE PARKED HER car under a tree, leapt over the ancient, crumbling brick wall edging the field and walked across the same expanse over which she’d fled not that long ago.
The bottoms of her jeans were soon damp, her boots beginning to chill. But she ploughed on until she found herself standing outside the antechamber, staring up at the façade of the palace.
It was strange to think she had grown up here, and now it only looked like a building. A beautiful building, to be sure, glorious and charming and strong. But it was no longer her home.
Not about to head up to the front door and knock, but also not keen on bumping into anyone in the private quarters, she went with a hunch, pushed her way through the garden brambles and tested the window. It opened easy as pie.
It was ironic to find herself climbing in through the very same window out of which she’d climbed just a few days ago. Or maybe it was necessary. A kind of bookend.
The antechamber was much as she’d left it bar the wedding paraphernalia, which was no doubt at the bottom of a rubbish bin somewhere.
She checked through the door to make sure the coast was clear, then headed off, through the palace.
Five minutes and a few close calls later, Sadie sat huddled beneath the fluffy, double-thick blanket she’d nicked from the back of a couch in the library, secure in her favourite spot in the palace. She was atop the turret of the tallest tower, feet dangling over the side, the country she loved at her feet.
Her gaze tripped over snow-capped mountains, verdant green fields dotted with fluffy black and white sheep. Over the lights of a dozen quaint villages tucked into valleys and sprawled over hillsides.
One of them had to be the village of Bellponte in which she and Will had stayed. If she’d seen the palace from La Tulipe, then surely she could see La Tulipe from here. But she’d never had much of a sense of direction, and couldn’t be sure.
Shivering, Sadie tucked her feet up beneath her and wrapped the blanket tighter.
She hadn’t realised it at the time, but her life had changed in that chintz-filled tower room. She’d grown up, faced her demons, faced herself. And she’d begun to fall in love.
