Petey Boy chortled. I looked up at him, and he finally bent down. He closed his eyes, and his gentle lips met my brow. He smelt of Buckford’s familiar rose-and-geranium soap. My breath caught. He lingered, perhaps a moment longer than he should have. My pulse raced. Then, suddenly, he was upright again, and my face was almost in his crotch. I stood up, my eyes meeting his.
“Well, that was very dramatic,” he said. “Thank you for the tea. If you don’t mind, I’m off to bed. I’m so far beyond tired, I’ve just hallucinated that you swore an oath of fealty to me.”
“I did,” I said, with a sincerity I hoped he saw.
“I know you did. As odd as it was, I appreciate it. Really. I’ve been so stressed, it helps to know I won’t be fighting all the way anymore.” He turned and took the first couple of steps down to his bedroom. “Oh, by the way. It’s my day off tomorrow. I’m planning to sleep in for as long as possible. I appreciate this is your home, but do you think…?”
“You won’t hear a peep out of me, I promise.”
“Thanks.”
As he started back down the stairs, an idea came to me. This was exactly the opportunity I’d been waiting for.
“Hey, when you get up, do you want to, maybe, hang out?”
“Huh?” Petey Boy’s head reappeared above the level of the floor.
“I thought I could show you around the estate. We could take the horses out? Go down into the village, perhaps?”
Petey Boy was frowning.
“You want to hang out with me?”
“Well, it’s not obligatory. But I am your liege man, after all. I thought you might need to get away from the house for a while. It’s what I do when it all feels like too much. This house is enormous, but it’s also very small. Getting away from it is good for perspective. Clears the mind.”
Petey Boy chewed his lip, considering. Then a hint of a smile, and a nod.
“I’d like that.”
My heart took off at a gallop, my whole body tingling.
“Great,” I said, trying to sound casual. “You sleep as long as you need. When you’re ready, I’ll get you out of here and show you my world.”
Chapter 19
Petey
Ididn’t dream of ginger Scotsmen. I dreamt of William. Wild, vivid dreams. His red boxer shorts transformed into a tiny red satin kilt that didn’t cover him completely, and he breathlessly whispered oaths of devotion into my ears. When I woke at midday, flagpole rigid, drowning in sweat, William was—thank God—nowhere to be found. There was a note on the kitchenette:Meet me at the stables whenever you’re ready. No hurry. Wear these. WW.
I picked up the garment underneath the note. “Yoga pants?”
I stood under the shower for what seemed like an age, still hard as an iron girder. It had been three weeks since I’d had sex—my longest drought since first year uni. I was missing London. I was missing the clubs of Vauxhall. But I was here to work, not get distracted by hot aristocrats, so I couldn’t go riding in this state. Certainly not in yoga pants. I closed my eyes, and William was there. Behind me, inside me, here in the shower. He might have rejected me in real life, but here in my imagination the sexiest, most confusing man I had ever met was all mine. When it finally erupted, my load shot a tile right off the wall.
William was standing in the stable yard between two already saddled horses, dressed in his riding gear. He looked like a horsey Tom of Finland. Seeing him, I suddenly felt quite nervous. Why did he want to spend the day with me at all? It wasn’t like he was interested in me. William bobbed his head.
“Good morning, my liege. My word, don’t you look splendid.”
I spun around, letting him appreciate the full ensemble.
“I hope you don’t mind, I stole one of your tops.” I’d found a light blue linen shirt in William’s closet and tied the shirt fronts together into a knot—showing off all the goods, front and back, in the yoga pants.
William’s face went as red as a postman’s sack.
“Not at all. You look…splendid,” he said, again. Was he permanently awkward? Was that the problem? Because honestly, he wasn’t giving me disinterested vibes.
I said good morning to Achilles, and then William introduced me to a dappled grey pony called Pat.
“You named your horses Achilles and Patroclus? I knew you were a book nerd, but this is too cute for words.”
