BY THE AFTERNOON, the inheritance had been pushed to the back of her mind. The queen had been caught in an unexpected downpour, and Caroline had been called upon to bring dry clothing with urgency. A car was already waiting for her at the servants’ door.
And there she was, dashing through the back corridors, her arms clutching the clothes, her face red from running. A formation of footmen filed past, silver salvers of afternoon tea carried aloft, and she stood to the side of them, willing them to hurry.
But there, behind them, she saw the telltale brown uniforms, the Scottish voices laughing as a small group of gardeners descended towards her.
And one of them was Angus.
As he came closer, her eyes focused in on his face, and she felt her knees give way beneath her as she leaned against the wall.
Unmistakable, his form and presence were exactly the same – more so if possible, as if maturity had made him more himself.
Frozen in panic, she almost dropped the clothes before pulling them up to cover her face as she watched them pass.
Her heart pounded.
Was he really here?
It seemed incredible. She wanted to stretch out her hand and touch him, feel his reality. Was it a mirage, a dream?
His eyes flickered over hers, but he didn’t seem to react.
Her heart plunged.
Did she look so old and unkempt that he didn’t even recognize her?
But then something in his bearing changed, and as he turned back to her, she registered the flash in his eyes, a sudden shadow over them, as if the world had shut down around him.
His forehead creased as he pulled back, telling the other men to go ahead without him.
He watched them go, and once they’d headed into the garden, the corridor suddenly empty and silent, he turned to look at her, ten or more feet away.
Her breath caught in her throat. His gaze was so intense, so complete, that she could hardly bear to meet his eyes.
Slowly, he approached her, and she felt herself step back into the wall, afraid.
Unable to look at his face, her eyes went to his hands, large and purposeful, still slightly dirty from garden work. Yet all she could do was remember the feeling of them touching her skin, holding her so close she felt cocooned, protected from everything life could ever throw her way.
Regardless of what he’d done, she couldn’t hold back a rush of reckless, unbridled desire, as fresh and fast as it had been all those years ago. Never had she felt it for anyone else, only ever for this one man who had broken her heart so completely.
As he came closer, she saw that his face was older, too. He was broader and more hardened, his dark-auburn hair pushed back from his forehead. Familiar and yet distant, his piercing green eyes searched her face.
Then he stopped. Instead of taking in her frumpy dress, her badly cropped hair, he only looked into her eyes with a rawness, a fierce recognition of what they’d had between them.
‘Caroline,’ he said, and with the sound of his voice saying her name, all the emotions of his leaving crashed through her, the fear she would never see him again, the anger of his rejection.
As she didn’t respond, he added quietly, ‘I didn’t know you’d be here.’ He reached his hand forward to touch hers, but before he did, he let it fall, taking a step back as if to control himself.
‘I didn’t think you’d come.’ Her voice came out as a whisper, fast and nervous.
‘It was a last-minute decision.’ He spoke quickly, under his breath. ‘I didn’t want to disturb you, your life.’
Keep calm!she kept telling herself.
In her mind, she’d had a speech planned in case she met him, but now, it was all she could do to breathe as the old connection pulled her towards him. She’d forgotten how it had felt, how powerful and intense, like it was ripping her heart straight out of her body.
Angus was watching her evenly, but as he took a step closer, she could see his jaw clench, hear his breath quicken. Instead of the soft suppleness of before, there was a hardened look on his face, an intensity about him that hadn’t been there all those years ago.
‘Are you all right?’ he said softly, his face tilting towards hers, at once so familiar and yet distant, as if it had come from a black-and-white movie she’d once seen, the film running to sepia as the characters vanished into the past.
