Chapter Six
Ophelia
O phelia stood by the window in her room, watching Brann speaking to her father in the gravelled front driveway. What the hell were they talking about? Hopefully Brann wasn’t actually asking her father if she had permission to be dishing out orders, because she wasn’t entirely sure she did. Barbara seemed to think she did, but was her father onboard with any of it?
Brann laughed and ran his hands through his hair before heading to his van. What was it about him that made energy ping around her body like manic flies bouncing off walls? Just count to ten. She had to focus. Today was the day she was meeting James Charlton, and she couldn’t let thoughts of Brann get in the way. Whenever she was near him, she emerged from the cocoon of her normal life and let herself go. All the stuff they’d said to each other the previous day. It had felt a bit like arguing, but it wasn’t. Was it banter or flirting? She’d never done either before. Not like that anyway.
Rupert had arranged the meeting with James. That was her ‘date’. Wouldn’t it be amazing if he was built like Brann and induced the same sensations in her? Why did that seem unlikely in the extreme? And yet she was never attracted to men like Brann… Never. Until now. Now, she couldn’t keep him out of her head and every particle in her body was urging her to go down to him and do what she had to do. Which was what? Kiss Brann? Strip Brann? Strip herself? Get close to Brann? Have hot sex with Brann? All of the above really, which brought her back to just how utterly ridiculous this was.
Must stop. Must stop. Must stop.
She played the words in her head like a mantra as she moved away from the window and sat down at her dressing table. She had a burning desire to tell someone and maybe get advice, but at the same time she couldn’t confess this to anyone. It was a guilty little secret she wouldn’t dare share. What would people make of it? She tried to imagine some of her friends’ reactions. They’d be shocked and tell her to keep a lid on it. Her friend, Florence, would laugh herself silly; they’d always joked about how they didn’t understand women going for these muscly types. Florence was now engaged to a city banker with a perfectly average physique. Ophelia had always thought she’d go for the same type… Until she started drooling over the builder.
And what about her colleagues and employees at Timeless Butterfly Interiors? They wouldn’t believe their totally together boss had fallen apart so thoroughly. She had to channel some of her professionalism. And she could.
‘Yes. I can.’
She fixed on her smile and went downstairs to help Jacinta make a buffet lunch for when James arrived.
On the stairs she stopped, gazing around at the portraits. Her eyes landed on the one of her grandparents, painted just a couple of years before they died. It was so realistic she almost felt they could dust themselves down and step out. I wish they would . If only she could talk to them now. What would they advise? Would they expect her to marry James for his money? Her grandmother had told her she’d married because of her parent’s wishes, but it had turned out to be perfect for her. Could that happen for me? She touched her hand to the frame, taking a deep breath to stall the sadness bubbling inside her, then carried on to the kitchen.
Jacinta wiped her brow as Ophelia entered. ‘Cooking is not my scene. I wish we could get rid of Dagmar and get the cook back.’
‘No, we need to keep Dagmar. She’s been loyal to us, and she’s always been so dedicated. We were chatting about the stable upgrades, and she has lots of great ideas.’
‘Well, I’m not sure we can keep her on. Money should be spent wisely.’
‘I agree.’ Ophelia opened the fridge door. ‘And we’re managing with the cooking, so we’ll keep Dagmar.’
‘But she’s such an oddity.’
‘That’s not very nice. She’s just quiet.’
‘I’m sure she only likes working here so she can practise for all the competitions she enters.’
‘Well, at least she wins.’ Ophelia and Dagmar were close in ages and Dagmar was unbeatable in everything, every year, and always had been.
‘Oh gosh, yes. She wins everything, doesn’t she? Including the Who Looks Most Like Their Horse competition.’
‘Seriously, no.’ Ophelia shook her head. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say. She’s very pretty and looks nothing like a horse. Even if she did, it’s not ok to badmouth her.’
‘I hope Francesca is ready.’ Jacinta peered into the hallway, ignoring Ophelia. ‘The taxi will be here soon. Which reminds me, I need to ask the driver if he can drop her in Glenbriar on Thursday for the musical theatre club. I can’t take her as I’ve got a massage therapy booked for the same time.’
‘Such bad planning,’ Ophelia muttered. And how was Jacinta paying for all this stuff?
‘Here’s the taxi.’ Jacinta peered out the window. ‘Francesca! Where is she?’
Jacinta ran out to catch the driver. Francesca strolled in wearing the tartan skirt and blazer all the Kinroy Academy girls wore and shoved some books from the kitchen table into her schoolbag. Ophelia had attended the same school what seemed like a long time ago, though she was only twenty-eight.
‘I hope you’ve got some good subjects today,’ she said.
‘Not really.’ Francesca flicked her long hair. ‘History is a drag last period.’
Jacinta returned. ‘Hurry up. The driver is waiting. He’ll drop you off in Glenbriar on Thursday. You remember where to go when you get there?’
‘Well, sure, Mum. I’m fifteen, not five.’
‘Indeed. Now, hurry up.’
Francesca opened her bag and put in another book.
‘I wonder if we should put together something of an action plan for how best to approach James,’ Jacinta said. ‘Where’s Rupert got to? He should be part of this. And get a move on, Francesca.’
‘An action plan?’ Ophelia shook her head and laid out some slices of bread. Francesca sniggered as Jacinta bustled into the pantry. ‘You can laugh now,’ Ophelia said, ‘but in a few years, don’t be surprised if the same thing happens to you. And if I don’t like James, they might even save him for you.’
‘Ew, no thanks. He’s like far too old for me.’
‘He’s the same age as me. Only thirteen years older than you. That’s about the same as Father and your mum.’
‘Oh my god, that is so gross.’ Francesca slung her bag over her shoulder and headed for the taxi, looking like she might throw up.
Ophelia zoned out to Jacinta’s master plan. She was going along with this for now, but on her own terms – not theirs.
‘Remember, we’re not forcing you to like him.’ Rupert patted her on the back later that day as they waited for James to show up. ‘But I’ve heard so many good things about him. Give him a chance.’
‘You know I will, father, but let me do this myself.’ Ophelia checked the time. She had so much she could be doing.
‘We will, but we can’t completely ignore him.’
Perhaps James Charlton would take one look at the mad bunch that was the Chattan-Blythe family and run straight home.
She’d built him up in her mind to be charming, maybe a bit flashy and completely self-assured. The photo she’d seen of him on the Duchan Fayre website was too generic to make much of a judgement from, but he appeared well-groomed and handsome in that businessperson kind of way she was so used to. She’d dated men like that in Edinburgh, though none of the dates had gone far. They just didn’t click. Where was the fire?
As James crossed the threshold, Ophelia sized him up. He shook her father’s hand with a brief smile, then turned to her and met her eyes. He was tall, dark-haired, and not bad looking. His expression was one of easy charm, but Ophelia didn’t feel moved at all. He was yet another Mr Nice Guy she didn’t see herself ever falling for. Still, he didn’t seem threatening either, which was definitely a plus.
‘This is my daughter, Ophelia.’ Rupert ushered her forward, and she gritted her teeth at being moved around like a doll.
‘Nice to meet you.’ Ophelia held out her hand.
James shook it somewhat stiffly, his palm very warm. ‘And you.’ He turned his attention back to Rupert directly. ‘My parents are very keen to meet you as well. Perhaps you’d consider dining with them?’
Ophelia frowned slightly. His voice was low and gentle, but his words had a rehearsed air about them.
‘Of course. We would love that. Wouldn’t we, dear?’
‘Absolutely.’ Jacinta beamed at James. ‘They sound very much like our kind of people.’
James caught Ophelia’s eye, and he gave her a little smile, almost like he was apologising. Was he in the same boat? Had his parents sent him here to ‘court’ her?
‘Why don’t we get lunch?’ Ophelia fiddled with the gem on her silver tennis bracelet.
‘Sounds good to me,’ James said.
‘Capital plan.’ Rupert clapped his hands.
Ophelia led the way to the dining room, Rupert and James followed. Jacinta was in full flow, telling James about the latest curtain fabric she’d found. Ophelia glanced back. His face was a picture. The poor man.
‘It’s a buffet.’ Ophelia opened the dining-room door. ‘We weren’t sure what you’d like.’
‘I’m sure it’s excellent, thank you.’
Although Jacinta’s subjects for conversation were terrible, at least she kept the chat flowing, which was something.
‘We should take a walk around the estate after lunch,’ Rupert said.
‘Um… right.’ James’s eyes strayed to the grandfather clock in the corner. ‘That sounds nice.’ He couldn’t have sounded more unenthusiastic if he tried.
Rupert got to his feet. ‘Come on, Ophelia. You can show James everything he needs to see.’
She pulled out her best smile, containing every urge to make a smart remark. ‘Do you play polo?’ she asked James as they left via the main door.
‘Er, no.’
‘It’s one of my favourite sports, though I don’t do it as much as I like anymore.’
‘I’m more of a golf man.’
‘Golf, hmm. I’ve never tried that.’
Rupert beamed as though this conversation was a proposal. Ophelia’s insides squirmed. She couldn’t imagine herself being married to this man. He did absolutely nothing for her. Pleasant, yes, but she didn’t feel the slightest thing.
‘I’m sorry about this,’ James said quietly to Ophelia as they strolled along the path by the horse paddocks.
‘About what?’
‘Us being thrown together like this. It’s so fake and awkward.’
She smiled and gave his arm a little pat. ‘You’re not wrong.’
‘Tell us about your role at Duchan Fayre.’ Jacinta sped up to butt in, and Ophelia ground her teeth.
‘I’m one of the executive managers, along with my parents,’ James said. ‘They built it up from scratch. It’s worked out well. We found our lane and stuck to it.’
‘I’d say you’ve nailed it,’ Ophelia said.
‘Much like you have with Timeless Butterfly Interiors. It’s wonderful.’
She blinked and opened her mouth. He knew about her business? That meant he’d done his research. Wow. It was something she rarely talked about when she was at Glenvorneth. Mainly because no one here cared, or they got annoyed when she mentioned it, like they didn’t think she should tout her business out of the workplace. ‘Thank you.’
‘I love Duchan Fayre,’ Jacinta interrupted. ‘I’m probably one of your best customers.’
Ophelia ground her teeth. Typical. Jacinta would adore Timeless Butterfly Interiors if anyone other than Ophelia owned it.
‘I could arrange a tour for you if you like?’ James turned his attention to Jacinta.
‘Oh, I would,’
‘I wonder if it would spoil the magic for me,’ Ophelia said. ‘If I saw behind the scenes.’
He smiled, and actually he was rather cute. ‘Maybe it would enhance the magic.’
Rupert grinned from ear to ear. Would he and Jacinta just go away? Their presence was making this so difficult. Her constant interruptions were annoying and his manic smiling at every little exchange made him look insane.
‘The stables are up here.’ Rupert pointed up the hill. ‘They’re a bit of a mess. We’ve got some people in fixing them.’
‘Yes, let’s not go that way.’ Ophelia didn’t care if James saw the stables in that state, but she didn’t want to risk seeing Brann.
‘Oh, come on.’ Rupert marched ahead. ‘We must go this way so I can explain the ideas for the steading.’
‘But…’
He was already halfway up the path and James was following with Jacinta, though he seemed more worried about getting mud on his shoes than anything else.
The closer they got, the more Ophelia’s senses tingled. Wooden planks clattered and the scent of sawdust wafted up her nose. All of it pointed to Brann. He was there somewhere. Just out of sight.
As they rounded a bend, she spotted his van. Beside it, his sidekick was sawing at a workbench. The brotherly resemblance struck her again. Brann had got the majority of the rugged sexiness. His brother was good-looking too but was obviously younger and a bit more boy-band than swarthy warrior.
What the hell was she doing?
Fantasising about him – again!
It was genuinely impossible to get him out of her mind. Was she even trying? Having him there filled a space where before there was nothing. But she desired something there. And now she’d seen Brann, it seemed like the space was made to fit him.
How crazy am I?
She barely knew him. But that didn’t matter. It wasn’t knowledge of him she wanted – well, only in the biblical sense. She was so hot for him it was insane. Properly insane because she didn’t even like him. Did she?
‘Ophelia,’ Rupert said. ‘What do you think?’
‘What?’ She’d missed the conversation, almost forgotten they were there, in fact.
‘I thought I could ask the builder if he could put on those little wooden eaves like they have around the market stalls at Duchan Fayre. It’s a small thing, but I think they’re great.’ He patted James on the arm and Ophelia cringed. His sucking up was hideous.
‘Yeah, sure.’
‘Let’s go ask him now.’
‘What?’
Rupert headed straight towards the stables. Brann’s sidekick must have seen them coming because he’d disappeared inside the van and the doors were shut. Sensible.
Ophelia hung back. Maybe she could hide too.
But too late. Brann appeared, carrying a large plank. His tight black t-shirt showed every muscle on his chest. His celtic-knot tattoo just showed on his bicep at the edge of his sleeve.
Too hot for words.
Ophelia loosened her neckline and looked away as Rupert approached him.
‘Hello-hello,’ he said. ‘This looks smashing.’
‘Morning,’ Brann said, and Ophelia couldn’t prevent her focus from snapping back to him. He was looking at her too. Those eyes inviting her to do all sorts of things she shouldn’t even be thinking about.
‘This is James Charlton, an executive manager at Duchan Fayre.’
‘Hi.’ Brann smiled, adjusting his focus, still holding the plank of wood.
‘I think you’ve met my wife, Jacinta, and my daughter, Ophelia, already. Haven’t you?’
Brann’s gaze flicked straight past Jacinta and back to Ophelia. His lips twitched. ‘Yeah. We’ve met.’
‘We were just passing,’ she said. ‘You’re very busy and we don’t want to keep you, do we, Father? Time’s money after all.’
‘Indeed.’ Rupert winked at James, who was fiddling with the cuff of his suit jacket. How out of place did he look? This must be so torturous for him. ‘So, Brann. We were wondering if you could add on those wonderful fancy eaves they have around the market stalls at Duchan Fayre. I think they’d look marvellous on this place.’
Ophelia clenched her jaw, willing herself anywhere but here.
‘I’m sure I could, if that’s what you want. Get some pictures and add it to the job list.’
‘Ophelia will sort that.’ Rupert waved an airy hand at her.
No, I won’t. She wasn’t paying for frivolous nonsense, and the designs she’d done for this place were equal to Duchan Fayre any day.
‘It might mean altering some of the other designs though,’ Brann said. ‘Which would be a shame, cause they’re really cool.’
A little tremor coursed through Ophelia. He probably didn’t know the designs were hers. But he liked them, and that sent a gush of pride through her bloodstream.
‘I’ll leave Ophelia to sort it.’ Rupert tapped James and pointed to the door. ‘Let’s carry on up.’
Jacinta gave them a sour look before going too. Brann moved closer to Ophelia before she headed off. He swung the plank around so she couldn’t go past.
She glared at him. ‘What are you—’
‘Is that your date?’ He waggled his eyebrows. ‘Very you.’
‘What would you know about it? Honestly, you’re so rude.’
‘Only for you, Princess.’
‘Don’t you call me that.’ But her insides had woken with a bolt of electricity. She pushed the plank and Brann laughed, moving it out of her way. She caught up with Jacinta, Rupert and James, but her head was back with Brann. As they carried on walking, the buzz inside her grew so loud she was on the verge of exploding. If she didn’t do something, she’d break. She couldn’t keep up this public face without getting rid of some of the tension.
‘Father, I just remembered something else I have to talk to the builder about. I’ll be a few minutes. I’ll catch you up.’
‘The builder?’ Jacinta said in a scandalised voice. ‘Why on earth do you need to talk to him precisely now?’
‘Don’t be long,’ Rupert said.
Ophelia ignored them and marched, almost ran, back to the stables. Brann’s brother was back at his workbench, and he froze when he saw her. She gave him a brief smile, then headed for the stable door.
Before she got in, she heard singing… Like an actual proper voice and for a moment she thought the radio was on. Was that Brann?
She entered, and he turned like he was about to speak. The singing had stopped. Presumably he thought she was his brother. He stared at her.
‘Well, hello again. What do you want this time?’
She marched straight up to him, put her hand on his chest, and pushed him against the wall. He held up his hands and didn’t resist, though he could throw her off in a second if he wanted. A smirk creased his face.
‘Nice singing.’ She fixed him in her gaze. The heat of his body scorched her palm as she pressed it into his hard wall of muscle.
‘You need to pin me here to tell me that? Do you want me to shut up or sing for my supper?’
‘Neither. I need you…’ She took a deep breath. ‘To back off and get out of my head.’
He burst out laughing. ‘You’re telling me to back off? When you’re the one doing this? And how the hell do you expect me to get out of your head? I can’t help it if you can’t stop thinking about me.’
‘Are you sure it’s not you thinking about me?’
‘So what if I am?’
‘I knew it.’
He gave a little shrug. ‘So we’re both thinking about each other then. Feel free to invade my mind whenever you like. I could do with the company, and I have a vivid imagination.’ His eyes raked her over.
She pulled even closer, so close she could kiss him. His lips were slightly parted, like they were ready to return the favour. How reckless would that be? But it was what she wanted. An untameable desire like nothing she’d ever experienced before fired up inside her, pushing her forward. ‘You can keep on imagining because that’s all you’ll ever get.’
‘Oh really?’ His palm landed on her hip and drew her towards him. She inhaled sharply. ‘Tell me why I can’t have what I want when I know you want it too.’
She stared at him, and he stared back. Her breathing was heavy, and so was his. His chest rose and fell noticeably. His hand was fastened to her hips. At the same moment, they leaned into each other. Ophelia clamped her hand around his neck and their lips met. Burning heat ripped through her. She opened her mouth to him, moaning and embracing the fire as their tongues touched. Never had such unbridled lust overpowered her like this.
She pulled back. ‘Don’t ever do that again!’
‘Don’t worry. I won’t.’ His eyes didn’t leave hers and he gave a little smirk.
She wrenched him forward and kissed him again. He put his other arm around her and pulled her close. The heat of his mouth and the strength of his body set her on fire; she wanted him. All of him. Here and now.
Bloody hell! She couldn’t do that.
This was bad enough.
‘I mean it,’ she breathed onto his lips. ‘Never again. That’s it. You understand?’
He laughed. ‘Whatever you say.’
With a huge effort, she broke free of his hold and stalked off, almost running to catch up with the others.
I’m not stupid. I know how insane that was. But the buzzing energy inside her had exploded.
She controlled her breathing as she walked, fanning her face and loosening the neck of her shirt. Yes, that had been stupid, but also completely wonderful. She’d done something spontaneous and passionate. Her insides were gooey, and her head was light. How insanely good did it feel?
She needed to keep riding that wave because when reality kicked in and she analysed what she’d just done, it would hurt. Levels of awkward from here on in would be off the charts.