He’d nodded. ‘Well, if it means nothing, then what’s the big deal?’
In that moment, as he’d been looking at me, eyes dark and molten, I’d known that I would marry him, but not to prove a point. Because of something much deeper and terrifying. I’d only spent one night with him by then, but already felt connected to him in a way I’d never felt with anyone else.
And then I’d realised he was bluffing me. I’d narrowed my gaze on him and had bluffed him back. ‘Right so, come on, let’s find the nearest chapel.’
He’d blinked at me and I’d crowed at him, ‘I knew it, you’re all talk.’
Then a look of determination had come over his face and he’d taken my hand and flagged down a cab. ‘No I’m not.’ And before I’d known it we’d been in the clerk’s office obtaining a marriage licence and then standing outside one of the iconic Vegas wedding chapels where he’d said, ‘Look, maybe this has gone far enough...’
But something slightly desperate inside me – a need to forge an indelible connection with this man - had galvanised me and I’d said, ‘Chickening out, Jamie?’
He’d looked at me and let out a bark of laughter. And then he’d walked up the white-fenced path with me in tow saying, ‘Let’s see how brave you are at the altar.’
We’d goaded each other all the way to saying actual legally binding vows in front of Elvis. And then as far as ordering the marriage certificate. Just in case we hadn’t made it completely official. A truth I’d not really acknowledged until afterwards was that we hadn’t even been all that drunk by then. So we’d been in our full faculties.
Jamie was handing me something and I looked at it blankly for a moment. A jumper. His jumper. He was wearing another long-sleeved top underneath. A thermal? It was flimsy enough to hint at the musculature of his chest underneath. He said, ‘Take off the jacket and put this on, Lucy, you’re freezing.’
Scotland. We were in Scotland. Not Las Vegas. I took his jacket off and put it on a hook and then I pulled the jumper over my head. It was warm from his body heat and instinctively I closed my eyes and breathed his scent in.
It drowned me, falling to the tops of my thighs, sleeves falling over my hands. I rolled them up.
‘Take your shoes off and put these on.’ He was handing me a pair of woollen socks. I slipped off the high heels and pulled on the socks.
‘Come on,’ he said gruffly, ‘I’ll make us some coffee.’
Did he remember that I could barely function in the morning unless I’d had my coffee? After all, we’d only spent two mornings together...
I followed him into a huge flagstoned kitchen. Warmth emanated from the biggest AGA I’d ever seen at one end and George was already laid out in front of it. I gravitated towards it because the chill coming from Jamie was almost as biting as the one outside.
CHAPTER 4
Jamie
Jamie was acutely aware of Lucy over by the AGA. He snuck a glance. Her back was to him, she was bending down and stroking George who was lapping it up. George, who was normally quite picky about who he chose to allow into his space.
Her hair was thick and bright. He could see it had been sleeker but the weather had made it wild. She stood up and put her hands out towards the stove. She should have looked ridiculous in his jumper and the socks, but all it made him think of was the curves underneath. Curves he remembered because they’d been burnt onto his brain over two white hot nights rendering him so insensible that he’d allowed their little game of daring each other to get married to go all the way.
She was turning around so he looked back to the coffee machine again and she asked, ‘Are you here on your own?’
Her voice had done things to his blood the first time he’d heard it and her Irish accent had caught his attention. It was doing the same thing now.
‘Yes, I let the staff go for Christmas. It’s just me.’
‘Staff?’
He heard the tone of amusement in her voice. It made him think of her looking up at him and grinning so goofily aftergetting married that he’d had to kiss her to try and block out the way she’d made his chest feel tight.
Jamie poured the coffee into cups and brought one over to her, ‘Black?’
Her eyes widened a little and he noticed how long and spiky her lashes were. She said, ‘You remembered.’ She sat down on a chair at the wide wooden kitchen table.
He remembered everything. He remembered how in that moment with an Elvis impersonator in front of them he’d looked into Lucy’s eyes and had been unable to look away. Caught. Suddenly it had felt very serious and instead of running back down that path he’d heard himself repeating legally binding words like, ‘I do.’
He put some distance between them and rested back against the counter. Forced his brain to work. ‘We have a housekeeper, Rhona, and her husband, Martin, is the general groundsman. They live in a cottage on the grounds. They’ve gone to Edinburgh for Christmas to see their kids and grandkids. Then there are other staff who come and go as needed.’
Lucy had both hands on the cup. Jamie found himself checking her fingers. No rings. Not that they’d even exchanged rings.Thatreminded him of stopping in a street in Buenos Aires, outside an antique jewelry shop about a year before –
‘This place must take a lot of maintenance.’
