‘Sorry.’ Jamie crossed his arms over Alicia’s sternum, drawing her into that bubble of safety again. His fresh, clean bergamot scent was one she would never smell again without returning here. To him.
‘Is it not a teensy bit cold for surfing?’ she rubbed his forearm.
‘Sure. If you’re a wuss it is.’
‘Well, call me a wuss because there is no chance you are getting me in that water at this time of year.’
The vibrations of Jamie’s laughter rippled from his chest to Alicia’s heart.
‘Okay, no surfing,’ he said, ‘but I’d love if you could paint this as one of the views. It’s a personal favourite of mine. What do you think?’
‘That’s no problem. I could quite easily do it from indoors.’
‘Amazing. Tomorrow we’ll go into the village and I’ll show you some other places. I can’t wait for you to fall in love with the place.’
Alicia inclined her cheek to Jamie’s. ‘Oh, I’m sure I will. I already know how special Kinshore is.’ Something toldAlicia that if she stayed here too long, the view wouldn’t be only thing she’d fall in love with.
The evening was perfect. They ate crisp pan-fried salmon with fluffy roast potatoes and vibrant garden greens. Outside, frost laced the streets and rooftops, creating a winter postcard scene, but inside warmth from the kitchen range cocooned them and they talked across a vista of topics from movies to their respective families. After dinner, in the lounge, the fire crackled as Alicia regaled Jamie with tales of her brothers away from the cameras and Jamie entertained Alicia with stories about his six siblings. She was wondering if she would ever meet them when Jamie said, ‘You’ll meet them if you stick around for a bit. Some of them, anyway. Sean and Nate live here. They’ll all come back for Christmas, too, if you’re about then.’
Alicia must have frozen a little at, apparently, having her mind read because Jamie apologised. ‘Sorry, I’m coming on too strong with all my Christmas talk,’ he said. ‘We only met two weeks ago.’
‘No.’ She grabbed his hand. ‘It’s not too strong. I hope I am around then. Meeting your family would be a privilege.’
Jamie wrapped his fingers over her knuckles. ‘The honour would be all theirs.’
After-dinner fireside sex where the orgasms flowed like intoxicating whisky reinforced to Alicia that she could never now be satisfied by another man. Not that she could imagine being with anyone but Jamie. And then, as her heart spun like a roulette wheel, Jamie carried her naked upthe stairs, and they moved to the next round in the bedroom, a light dusting of snow swirling around outside.
‘This is like an R-rated fairy tale.’ She lay tucked into him, her arm draped over his wide chest. ‘First, sex by a winter fire and then the Scottish prince carries me up the stairs and takes me again with little baby snowflakes tumbling down outside.’
‘Scottish prince! Ha. There’s not been one of those for about four hundred years, and their hygiene was questionable. But I’m happy to be your modern-day prince. Or king, even.’
‘King Jamie I of Kinshore. I’d do him.’
‘You just did.’ He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers. ‘Mmm. Hey, I’m going to check the fire downstairs before we sleep.’
While Jamie was away, Alicia rummaged in her suitcase for her vanity kit to take her make up off. In the corner of her case, she spotted the toxic shame book. Self-reproach prickled at her. Two weeks she’d had the book and she’d opened it once, skimmed page one and closed it again. It was remiss of her. Or was it? She was fine, wasn’t she? Jamie had magicked away all the bad Chad stuff.
‘You alright? What you reading?’
She jumped. She hadn’t heard Jamie come up the stairs but there he was, leaning on the door jamb examining her with curiosity. ‘Oh, nothing.’ She slid the book underneath a sweater. But his gaze narrowed.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘I’m all over a bedtime story with a Scottish prince in it.’
Alicia softened. She was ashamed of the book, but Jamie knew what she’d been through. Surely, she could show him. Tentatively, she pulled it from under the sweater and held it out to him.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s nothing as exciting as Scottish princes.’
Jamie pushed off the door jamb, took the book and with an unreadable expression on his face examined the cover for what felt like forever.What conversation will this lead to? One where I explain I’m way more damaged than I made out? I should have pretended it was romance and left him to wonder.
To prolong Alicia’s agony, Jamie then flipped the book over and scrutinised the blurb on the back cover, again taking so long that she wanted to weep.
‘Sorry,’ he said, when at last he finished. ‘Dyslexia. Takes me longer than most to read things.’
Of course.Alicia had forgotten about his dyslexia. She was thinking too much about her own problems.
‘Leesh, this book?—’
‘I know.’ She interrupted. Couldn’t help it. Had to pre-empt him. ‘It’s full on, right? Too full on?’
