53
Jemma’s Version
I’ve become a stranger to myself.
My peace is gone since that afternoon in the pool. Or the evening of the gentlemen’s auction. I don’t even know exactly. What I know is that I feel a sense of restlessness that comes and goes, catches me off guard and makes me feel completely upside down.
I can’t help thinking about the endless moment in which Ashford and I were clinging together.
Since then, I just can’t control myself.
It was something instinctive, wild, to which I could do nothing but surrender.
I feel as if I were exposed to danger, but a new, completely unknown kind of danger, which attracts me like a magnet on the one hand and scares me to death on the other.
I’m always craving to be alone and then, suddenly, I wish to see Ashford enter through the door. And when it happens, my self-control struggles to prevent me from throwing my arms around his neck and holding him just like I did that afternoon.
My ears raise every time I hear his voice, I’m short of breath when I see him and my heart starts pounding when I hear him enter his room, knowing that there’s just a door separating us.
Where are my sharp remarks, my comebacks, and the quick wit that used to enliven our conversations?
I would like to snap myself out of this sort of hypnotic state, but, at the same time, I abandon myself to it more with each passing day.
54
Ashford’s Version
“I’m castling,” announces Harring, moving his king next to the rook.
“Feel free to amaze me with a move you haven’t done in every single game for the last twenty years,” I mock him. “I don’t know, a Sveshnikov Sicilian, or any strategy that can allow me to consider you a challenging opponent.”
Haz pours himself another lavish sip of brandy. “Just think of your half of the chessboard.”
“Well, I still have all my pieces.”
A roll of thunder makes the windows in the room vibrate. The summer was exceptionally nice and warm but it is drawing to an end now and there’s a violent storm tonight. It is rather cold for the end of August, too.
“For fuck’s sake!” Haz exclaims. “I’ve just waxed my 911!”
“You mean you watched someone else do it…”
Lance enters the room, carrying a tray of canapés and a basket of logs for the fireplace. “Your Grace, Lady Jemma called to let us know that, due to the sudden storm, she will spend the night at Olstrom House, with the Marquise of Hungeford. She will be back tomorrow.”
“Aren’t you worried about Jemma spending so much time with that misfit, Loxley?” Harring asks.
“I was at the beginning but, to be honest, she looks happy to have found a friend, even if she’s a little odd.”
“A little odd? She belongs in a mental health clinic!” Haz comments.
“Jemma isn’t quite conventional either…”
“Well, she may not be conventional, but she’s a genius! That amusement park party she set up for your birthday was awesome! You’ll have to work quite hard for her birthday!”
“What?” I ask, dazed.
“Her birthday, Ash. That thing that everyone has, one day a year?”
“Shit. When is her birthday?” Haz and I look at each other and remain speechless.
