Brandon is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes widen as he watches me come down.
“You look…” He coughs slightly. “Christ, what are you doing to me? Do you want to ruin my celibacy?”
“Shut up.” I laugh. “I saw how all the women were looking at you in the village. I’m the least of your worries.”
He helps me into my coat. “Where’s your hat?”
“No hat. It’ll mess my hair.” Yeah, call me vain.
“You can’t go out bareheaded. It’s minus three outside and likely to get colder by midnight.” Then he seems to get an idea and walks to the coat hanger behind the front door to take my pashmina from the hook. Carefully, he drapes it around my head and wraps both ends around again like a loose hijab. “There, that should keep the cold out.”
He tucks the ends under my collar, then pauses to stare at me. His eyes are smoky grey too, and the dark lashes do almost as good a job as my eyeshadow.
“Don’t let me drink tonight,” he says turning away. “Or you’ll have to deal with the consequences.”
“We’re going to be a fun pair, you and I. Mr. and Mrs. Teetotal.”
This makes him chuckle and we joke back and forth all the way back to the village. It’s dark by now of course, but someone has placed fat candles every few yards along the road guiding us.
“You have a curious air about you?”
“Is it my smell again?” He pretends to sniff inside his coat.
“No.” I elbow him gently. “Like you have a secret plan. What are you going to do?”
“Nothing.” He says in a tone that makes me certain he is hiding something. I can’t really see his expression in the dark and the candlelight does little more than guide us toward the village.
“I thought they weren’t allowed any outside lights at night?”
Brandon gives me a sidelong glance. “No doubt, you will ask as soon as we get to the pub?”
“You make me sound like a…”
“Like a strong woman with an active and curious mind.” His voice makes me feel very warm despite the weather.
I take his arm in both my hands. “Thank you. Now let’s go and have fun.”
???
It goes without saying, the Swan is an old-fashioned pub, but it is rather fun.
The Du Montfort party is upstairs in a private room which is all dark wood, low beamed ceiling, and crackling fires in two cast iron stoves.
Fifteen of us lounge around a long oval table filled with small canapés and pastries. The kind that you eat a hundred and only notice when you stand on the scales a week later.
“This is criminal.” I tell Millie while stuffing another goose and sour cherry bite in my mouth. “Honestly, I can’t stop.”
“We have a genius cook.” Her husband answers from the other side.
This is George, of whom I’ve heard much. Now that I see him, I too would have much to say. Most women would.
In fact, this entire party is couples in love.
Laura’s partner is the doctor I’ve been seeing. They are one of those couples who look good together. Both are tall, lean, and handsome. While she’s dark and he’s fair, they both have the same haircut. If the way their eyes keep searching for each other is any clue, they are crazy in love.
Hal, the guy who sold me the honey dressing is sitting next to his girlfriend, Elodie, and he keeps reaching for her hand, stroking her hair, or finding a reason, any reason, to touch her. Every time he touches her, she leans into his touch.
If that wasn’t enough to make anyone sick with jealousy, then there is Gabriel with his fiancée, Pierre, a lovely girl with deep-blue hair. They’re at the other end of the table next to Brandon, and whatever she’s talking to him about seems to make him oblivious to anything else in the room.
