It sounded like an excuse. Emma hoped it was an excuse. To see her alone, because he wanted things to be as they were before. Because he missed her.
The door of the clubhouse opened and there he stood, looking her up and down.
“You look nice. Not great to run in, though.”
Emma stared at her feet as though that could make trainers appear. She would have remembered if he’d told her to dress for running, surely? If only she remembered their phone call more clearly. She’d been too caught up in her vision of winning him back. What else might she have missed?
“Later? When—Oh, never mind.” Jasper turned away from the door. Emma darted in to catch it before it swung shut.
He took her through to the dining room.
“There.”
He was holding out cloth ears and a tail. It hadn’t been an excuse.
Jasper turned to the dining table, where a hunter’s gear was already laid out. He tugged his T-shirt over his head. The unexpected fire of a December sunset poured over him, bare-chested before the window. Emma became very aware of her breath.
He was outlined in light. It stroked over the rippled honey of his back, the shadowed paths of muscle tapering to his waist. Even indoors, in the dead of winter, he gleamed like a bronze statue. As though a private sun shone on him alone. Always golden.
He tossed the T-shirt aside, and she watched the muscles of his stomach, hard under his skin. Her fingers itched to reach for him.
“How have you been?” she ventured.
“Fine.”
“I just—I haven’t heard from you for a while.”
“God, Emma, it’s just been a busy time. I didn’t think you were the kind to get possessive with people, not after all of your traveling. I thought you understood.” He flashed her a smile. “What are you going to do when I sail around the world, then, if you get upset at a few weeks apart?”
Jasper swatted at her with the waistcoat he’d been about to put on. Emma gave a laugh of pure relief. She saw how unreasonable she’d been. She had misjudged him.
“And you’re sure it’s okay to bring me tonight? After last time?”
She thought she saw his face darken, just a fraction, and regretted bringing it up.
“Why wouldn’t it be? I’m the president. I’m inviting you. Who else has got anything to do with it?”
“It’s just—I can’t remember—I thought the others might be angry at me. After I broke—that thing.”
“No, the opposite, really. I was the one who got worked upabout the bowl. Rich calmed me down and got it fixed, and the others never shut up about how great you are.”
Seeing Emma’s face, he put down the waistcoat and crossed the room to her. “Honestly, Piers practically begged me to get you back to one of our clubhouse parties, and Richard told me I looked miserable and should invite you. Even Hugo asked if you were coming tonight, and I didn’t think he had enough brain cells to notice anyone but Julia.”
Why would they have to be so insistent?a small, miserable voice thought.Did Jasper need that much persuading?
“So you’re making a big worry out of nothing.” And with a funny face for Emma: “Don’t get paranoid on me.”
She felt strange when Jasper was fully dressed. The costume was exactly as she’d seen in cartoons: red coat with tails at the back, breeches, shining top boots. She watched him, absorbed in adjusting the white stock around his neck. She’d known that Jasper’s parents lived mainly on their country estate. Why had she never thought to ask him about hunting?
“Is that yours?” she asked. “The hunting outfit.”
“What? No. This is fancy dress.”
“Oh.” Emma smiled, relieved. For a moment, she’d felt a dizzying shift. As though her vision of Jasper had always been a smoke screen, and she’d just seen the complete stranger beneath. A person whose edges were made up of questions she hadn’t thought to ask. But she shouldn’t have doubted. Of course this was only fancy dress for him. She knew who Jasper was.
He did up the last button. “My hunting gear’s black, not red.”
Her mind was a chaos of shattered thought fragments, and shehad no time to straighten it. Jasper was already leading her down a corridor.
