“That had better not be me,” Oz says somewhat menacingly, but Niall just laughs and exits the room.
I fold my arms. “I’m not eating just because he says I am,” I say crossly. At that moment my stomach gives a massive grumble that’s loud in the quiet room. Oz raises his eyebrow and I huff. “I’ll eat because I’m hungry and not because the Lord and Master orders me to.”
He shakes his head. “Fascinating as this latest development in your and Niall’s relationship is, I’m hungry and knackered because Cora woke me up twice in the night.”
“What development? We haven’t got a relationship to develop,” I splutter.
He pats my shoulder happily. “You know denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, don’t you?”
“Where are you getting these lines from?”
He laughs and drags me to the door. “I think Mark Twain said it first, but I’m a lot prettier than him. I’m just saying that I like this pert side of you and I think Niall does too.”
I shake my head. “I’m the next best thing to a little brother that he’s got. It’s practically built into the job description that I get irritated by him. He just enjoys winding me up.”
“I think he enjoys the sassiness from you most of all,” he murmurs. “He loves it.”
Old memories strike with the force of a blow and I flinch slightly. “Yes, well, he’s got his reasons for feeling like that and he’s more than earned them.”
His frown follows me out of the room but as normal he doesn’t push. However, the time is approaching when I know I’ll have to confide in him or he’ll keep pushing Niall at me, unaware of why it’s never going to happen.
Later that evening I button up my coat before stepping out of the front door. The wind hits me instantly, grabbing at my hair and scarf and trying to tangle them together.
I pause for a second to admire the sight ofChi an Morin autumn. To most people, the Elizabethan manor house is at its best in the summer when it seems to glow honey gold against the blue skies. Not me. I love it best in autumn and winter when the warm stone stands as a fixed point in a landscape dominated by the changing seasons.
Tonight it’s wild. The trees dance and bend, sending wild shadows across the grounds and rain splatters on my face. Seagulls ride on the wind calling joyously to each other.
I set off on the path that will lead me down to the sea. The cove will be wild in this wind and I love that more than anything. The waves crashing onto the shore, the salt-wet wind in my face. It makes me feel more alive than I have in years.
The voice calling my name is flattened by the wind and it’s only the third shout of “Milo” that makes me comprehend. I turn to see Oz speed walking towards me with the dogs Chewwy and Boris at his heels. As I wait, he pushes his arm into his coat as it flaps behind him like it’s trying to escape. “Are you okay?” I ask. “You look in a rush.”
“I had to catch you,” he gasps, coming to a stop in front of me.
“Why?”
“I wanted to say sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” The incredulity is clear in my voice and he gives me a sheepish smile.
“For going on at you earlier. It’s not my business if you want to stay here, and I never want to make you uncomfortable.”
My lip twitches. “Did Silas tell you off?”
“No,” he immediately scoffs before sagging. “Totally. But in that really gentle, kind way he has that prevents me from telling him to fuck off.”
I laugh. “Ah, marriage. It’s a constant torment.”
He smiles and steps into me, hugging me tight for a second. “I’m sorry anyway,” he whispers. “Personally, I’d be happy if you stayed here forever because I love you loads.”
“I love you too,” I whisper.
He steps back. “But because I love you, I want the best for you, and that might not be what makes me happy.” He sighs and scuffs his feet across the sand. “I guess I just don’t understand what keeps you here, and I know it’s not all Niall.”
I open my mouth to refute that any bit of it is about him, but I can’t, so instead I say what I’ve been dreading doing for ages.
“Chi an Moris a bit of a sanctuary for me. A few years ago, I was in a really bad way and Silas took me in.” I laugh humourlessly before reaching into my coat pocket for my inhaler. Taking a puff, I put it back and continue. “He said he wanted me to stay because he had hundreds of pictures that needed restoring. He was telling the truth.” I smile. “It’s just that they’re all of his really hideous ancestors and he couldn’t have cared less if he ever saw their faces again. Then he spent a year trying to give me a career which would entail me actually talking to people. The only problem with that was that he apprenticed me with you and you talk enough for ten people, so eventually he let me go back to the silence and my paintings.”
He bangs me in the ribs with his sharp elbow and I laugh, but his face softens the way it always does when he talks about his husband. “He’s a kind man.”
