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I jump when he suddenly asks, “Can you ride a horse?”
“No. But I thought we were going for a scenic drive?”
He laughs softly. “I changed my mind.”
“That’s just rude and do you always change your mind so easily?” I ask offhandedly. Will he change his mind about me just as quickly?
He glances at me, his eyes brooding, gone from unblemished green to dark green. He looks back toward the road without saying anything.
I notice we are driving in the direction of his house. “Where we are going?” I ask stubbornly.
“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, while he glances at me fleetingly.
“I think I would rather go home. I’m not in the mood for surprises.” I regret my choice of words immediately, wanting them to go back to the dark, jealous depths where they were born.
It looks as if he is contemplating turning around, but he continues driving in silence. From the corner of my eye, I see a muscle jumping in his jaw.
I want to say something that would make him forget my snappy response. I need him to say something to reassure me, before this horrible feeling of suspiciousness overwhelms me, but the silence lingers.
We eventually reach the driveway leading up to his manor and we stop in front of his house.
He gets out, while I stay in the car—not because I am waiting for him to open my door, but because he did not invite me in.
After walking around the car, he opens my door, smiling his crooked smile.
I hear the first splinter of my heart fall away.
Unshed tears are burning behind my eyes.
Do not embarrass yourself, Elizabeth.
“Thanks,” I mumble, as I get out of the car.
He takes me by the hand and directs me through the misty rain toward his front door. “Don’t worry, my parents aren’t here,” he says reassuringly.
“Why would I be worried?”
“You look worried,” he jokes, trying to break the uneasiness between us.
“Well, I’m not.” I try to smile. The feeling of looming loss is burning a hole in my stomach.
He unlocks his front door and leads me through it, still holding my hand. After closing the door behind us, he turns me toward him and says softly, “I’m sorry, but I had to bring you here, so we can sort this. I could think of nowhere else to go in this unrelenting rain, and I feel it is important to speak to you face to face, without me having to concentrate on the road. Your happy act might work with others, but I seem to have the ability to recognize your emotions. I somehow know when you are putting on a happy performance, or when you are sad and only trying to hide it. I can feel you crying on the inside.”
I immediately look down.
He takes my chin between his fingers and lifts my face to look at him. The tears I have kept back so bravely run down my cheeks; a sob escapes my lips unwillingly.
Get a grip, Elizabeth.
I cannot get a grip.
Moving away from him, I turn back toward the door, trying to escape. I want to run the eleven miles home, but he folds his arms around my waist.
“You can stop trying to run away from me, just because you feel you need to protect yourself. You don’t need protection against me.”
“Please, let me go,” I sob.
“No. I told you already—never.”
His words shatter my last barrier and bending over double, folding my arms around my waist touching his arms already there, I cry as I have never cried before.
I cry because he said he would never let me go. I cry because I did not want him to let me go. I cry because there was the possibility, he would let me go.
I cry because I feel an ancient sadness, something deep within. An unhealed scar scratched deep into the surface of my soul, invisible on my skin, and erased from my memories.
My sadness is not the same hopeless sorrow I felt moving to Ireland. It is different. It hurts more.
He holds onto me until my sobs stop, and then he lifts me. Tenderly he turns me around toward him, holding me close to his chest.
After a while, he moves away from me slowly and he whispers, “I am so sorry.”
“You’re sorry for what?” I ask frowning, still sniffing. I feel immensely embarrassed for displaying my feelings so openly. Usually I am excellent at hiding my deepest emotions.
“You are going to have to get used to Sarah. We are friends, but she is always going to try, I suppose, until she finds her one true love.” I look up at him and he smiles my smile. “I don’t know how I am going to convince you that I am so very over her. I honestly am giving you all of me. I want you so much it keeps me awake at night. I have exposed my soul to you, I have told you that my heart belongs to you, I have even told you that I...”
I interrupt him, feeling an urgent need to explain, “I am so sorry. Sorry for over-reacting. When you said you could see through my pretences, I felt totally exposed. No one has ever been able to do that, not even my mum. I believed you could actually see the real me, how I really feel and now I have spoiled a perfect day.”
Smiling affectionately, he says softly, “No. You could never spoil a perfect day, cause every day with you in it, is perfect.” He draws me closer to him and standing there in the hall of his parent’s home, he kisses me softly on my lips.
I hear someone coming down the stairs and I move my hands, pushing urgently against his chest.
He moves away from me slowly, his eyes dreamy green again, as he asks amused, “Worried?”
“No.” I laugh warily. However, I do sigh with relief when I see Aaron across the big spacious hall. He is looking at us, still half-asleep, and then he disappears deeper into the house.
“Come. Let’s get breakfast.” He wraps his hand around mine as he turns away from me and leads me past the impressive circular staircase down a wide passage toward a bright kitchen.
In the kitchen, he pulls a chair from the kitchen island, and I sit down on it. He looks comfortable as he starts to fry eggs and bacon, makes toast and opens a tin of baked beans.
“Can I help?” I offer.
“No, you just sit there and keep me company.” After he pulls a tub of butter from the refrigerator, he asks concerned, “So, are you happier now than when you arrived?”
“I am. After I made friends with Jane, it felt easier to stop living in the past and imagine what could have been.”
He is concentrating on buttering the toast. “I am sorry about dumping my whole heart out on you last night, but is it really so wrong to have to know?”
I smile shyly. “I am glad you don’t like the uncertainty. I know how it goes when you love someone in silence for years.”
He looks up at me from across the room. “You loved someone? Did you have a boyfriend back in South Africa?”
“No.” I laugh dismissively. “Never even been in a serious relationship before, so I’m not really sure how this is supposed to work.” I feel a rush of heat push up my neck and into my cheeks. Embarrassed I ask, “Is this even a relationship?”
He smiles as he dishes up the huge fry-up and sits down across from me. “All I know is that I want to be in a serious relationship with you.”
I concentrate on the plate of food in front of me. “This looks delicious.” Glancing up at him, I see him smile through a mouthful of food.
“What time did you tell your mum you’d be home?”
“Later this afternoon.”
We continue eating in silence and when I have eaten every morsel on the plate, I sit back and place my palms on my stomach. “That was so nice. Thank you.”
