Chapter 7
The unnamed road leading through the wood to the manor house was just as Christian remembered: gravel, full of potholes, and as country as a thatched roof. Small rocks lined the edges. Beyond them was a forest of towering trees. And beneath the trees were the first purple blooms of bluebells.
Soon the forest floor would be covered with the delicate harbingers of spring.But in late March, only the most intrepid and impatient flowers pushed through the black, leaf-strewn soil to make their presence known.
A feeling of familiarity was soon replaced by something else. Something a tad wistful and melancholy. It was what happened to remorse after a number of years. It turned into a soft, sooty kind of sadness.
Emily proved she was a witch or a mind reader,or both, because she glanced over her shoulder and said, “So, we hid out in your uncle’s summer cottage for five days, and now we’re about to hide out in a manor house that your parents apparently took you to as a kid. Yet, in all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never talked about family. Not your folks. Certainly not an uncle. And in all the time we’ve been in England, you haven’t tried to contactany of them.”
A couple of seconds ticked by. When Emily pursed her lips, Christian felt a muscle twitch under his left eye. “Pardon? Was there a question in there?”
She rolled her eyes. “The question is, what gives? Where are your folks? Where is this mysterious uncle? And why haven’t you gone to see any of them since you’ve been back here?”
Before he could answer, Angel hit a pothole.The truck lurched sideways, forcing Emily to loop an arm around Christian’s shoulders or else risk being tossed headfirst across the laps of the other three men in the vehicle. Suddenly her face was disturbingly close, her nose a mere inch from Christian’s.
He could see the gold flecks in her irises, the slight irregularity in the roundness of the small beauty mark high on her cheek. His mindimmediately went somewhere it shouldn’t. When he exhaled, damn if his breath didn’t shudder out of him.
“My parents are dead,” he whispered, and wondered if she really did suck in a lungful of air when his breath feathered over her lips or if he was simply imagining it. “And I haven’t gone ’round to see my uncle because we’ve not spoken in over twenty-five years.”
Emily shook her head,her eyes suddenly sad, saying without words,I’m so sorry. Aloud, she said, “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
He shrugged, still slightly breathless at how near she was. If he leaned forward the tiniest bit he could… No.No!Had he learned nothing from the airport’s car park? He’d have to be blind, deaf, and dumber than a turnip not to realize she hadn’t kissed him back.
“I can be toonosy sometimes,” she said, keeping her voice low, making the conversation feel intimate even though there was no way everyone in the truck wasn’t listening in.
The quirk of his mouth said,Sometimes? How aboutallthe time.
“Fine.” She chuckled. “I’m too nosyallthe time. Which means you won’t be surprised that not five seconds after admitting it, I’m asking you what happened twenty-fiveyears ago to make you lose touch with your uncle.”
He could have prevaricated. He didn’t fancy talking about his past. But given his recent revelations—you know, the bit about him being arse over teakettle for her?—and despite her out-and-out rejection of him back at the airport, he wanted her toknowhim.
“My dad died,” he whispered. “Afterward, Uncle David didn’t fancy having anythingto do with me or my mum.”
She cocked her head, a frown drawing her eyebrows together. “That’s kind of an asshole move, don’t you think?”
“Not really. Considering it was my mum’s fault Dad died in the first place.”
He watched the emotions flicker through Emily’s eyes. There was shock. Sadness. Followed by something that made him grit his teeth because it looked dangerously close topity.
He could take loads when it came to Emily. Her teasing. Her taunting. Ruddy hell, even the fact their kiss had proved she reallydidn’tfancy him. At least notthatway. But one thing he couldn’t take was her pity. Or anyone else’s, come to think of it. Because only wretched, pathetic things were to be pitied, and he hadn’t pulled himself out of the gutter by his bootstraps to allowanyone ever to see him as a wretched, pathetic thing again.
When he didn’t carry on or explain, she lifted her brow, a question in her eyes.And?
And what?his pursed lips answered her.
She dropped the silent eye-conversation and decided to go with the real deal. “You can’t seriously think to leave us hanging on that hook. You have to give us more.”
Us.That was suddenly the stickingpoint.
No matter how intimate their conversation mightfeel, the truth was it wasn’t intimate at all. Christian wantedEmilyto know him, not every Tom, Dick, and Harry within earshot. Or Rusty, Ace, and Angel, as the case may be.
“I haven’t got to do anything except for die and pay taxes,” he told her.
She narrowed her eyes. “Stop trying to Christian Watson your way out of this thing.”
“Am I meant to know what that means?”
“You know.” She made a rolling motion with her hand. “You change the subject, or clam up, or turn the tables and start grilling me so I forget what I asked you.”
