Chapter Sixteen
Ophelia
O phelia stepped out of the taxi into the gravelled drop-off area. The cold air nipped at her cheeks, and she pulled her faux-fur stole tighter around her shoulders. Scone Palace rose before her, its almost red brickwork and crenulations lit by glowing uplighters on the path. Distant strains of music from inside carried into the still evening.
Brann got out the other side and adjusted his jet-black kilt jacket. ‘I see they’ve sent a welcoming committee.’ He raised his eyebrow at a pure white peacock wandering along beside the path.
‘They certainly have. Just for you.’
Brann smiled, stepped up beside her, and put out his elbow. ‘Shall we, my princess? And I must say you are looking particularly delectable this evening.’
‘That’s a big word for a builder, isn’t it?’
‘I told you before, I’m a multi-talented builder.’
‘I know you are.’ She linked her arm through his and nodded. ‘I’ve heard you singing many times and your woodwork is legendary. I’ve also heard you’re pretty hot with a screwdriver.’
He let out a laugh. ‘Naughty, naughty, but if you’re looking for a good nailing, you’ve found the right guy.’
She play-slapped his hand as they made their way to the entrance. They waited for a moment on the steps, and Ophelia found the tickets in her clutch bag.
‘I didn’t think you’d need a ticket to get in here. Aren’t you some relation to Lord What’s-his-name?’
‘We’re distantly related to the Mansfields, but it’s not them hosting. This is just the venue. It’s some businessperson who’s hosting it. Someone James knows.’
Her midnight-blue dress clung to her form, and she was quite impressed as she saw her reflection in the mirrors in the grand hall. She and Brann didn’t look too bad together at all. No one who didn’t already know would guess he was the builder. His kilt suit replaced his usual scruffy garb, and he looked like a model, not a workman. A flutter rippled through Ophelia. He was hot when he was tooled up in his workwear, drool-worthy when he was in the tug-of-war team, and just as sexy when smart.
She could forget about the fact she’d been forced back into her old room at the main house, while Camilla was entrenched in her cottage. At least here, she was free, living the moment, and not having to worry about anything else.
‘You scrub up well.’ She eyed over Brann’s reflection.
He shot her a sidelong glance, the corner of his lips quirking. ‘I never thought I’d find myself at a place like this.’
Ophelia met his eyes. ‘And yet, here we are.’
‘Indeed we are. The princess and the peasant.’
She nudged him, and they both laughed.
Glittering chandeliers picked out the sequins on her bodice as they stepped into the grand hall. She scanned around, wondering if she’d meet anyone she knew.
The large room opened up before them, buzzing chat mingled with soft piano music. Going to an event where she didn’t know anyone was unusual, but probably for the best. She didn’t really want to explain why she was here with Brann… Mainly because she wasn’t entirely sure why. It had just kind of happened. And as undeniably pleasant as it was, she couldn’t quite make sense of it.
‘Brann, you know this isn’t a date, don’t you?’ The sudden need to clarify and explain herself sent the words tumbling out. ‘This is just—’
‘Us being us. Yes.’
‘I’m not sure I know what that means.’
‘Don’t you?’
‘Bonsoir!’ a loud, tipsy voice said. Someone gripped Ophelia’s upper arm tightly. She turned to see a somewhat eccentric looking woman, dressed in a hideous baggy outfit that appeared to have been cut from an old pair of jacquard curtains. ‘Flora MacDonald, you remember me, yes? I know your mother very well and your stepmother, both very interesting women.’
For very different reasons, no doubt.
‘Of course, I remember you.’
‘Wonderful. And are you Mr Charlton?’ she asked Brann. ‘Jacinta told me all about you when I saw her last.’
‘He’s not. Mr Charlton couldn’t make it.’
‘How unfortunate. So, are you—’
‘I think someone over there is trying to get your attention.’ Ophelia pointed into the crowd.
‘Really?’ Flora asked. ‘Oh, it’s David Payton. I’ll go see what he wants. Will catch you later.’
‘Oh god.’ Ophelia sighed. ‘Has Jacinta told the whole world about James?’
‘Have you told her you’ve split up with him?’
‘Not yet. I’m keeping out of their way. That business with the cottage has really pissed me off.’
Brann put his arm around her shoulder. The heat from his palm on her skin was burning. ‘Yeah. That’s a piece of shit.’
The move was evidently meant to be comforting, and it was, but it was also possessive and protective. Normally, Ophelia would have objected to men doing this to her, but she found she didn’t mind being under his wing like this. It added to her strength and made her feel like she belonged somewhere. With him? Oh help. That couldn’t be good, but she liked the sensation, and she tilted her head slightly, so she was just leaning on him.
With a brief pat, he dropped his arm, leaving her cold and alone.
‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘I’ve just spotted someone I really don’t want to talk to.’
‘Who?’
‘Xander Davenport.’
‘Who’s that?’
‘My stepbrother. Jacinta’s son. God knows why he’s here, but then, it’s unsurprising. He loves himself and is always pushing himself forward. Just like his mother.’
‘That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? He must be quite young.’
‘He’s twenty-one, and he’s at university doing a course he shouldn’t have got on at all.’
‘How come?’
‘He didn’t get the grades he needed at school, but Jacinta and her ex went to the school and kicked up such a fuss. They claimed they’d paid for him to get the right grades, so the school altered them and he got in.’
‘That’s outrageous.’
‘Don’t I know it? Oh bollocks. He’s seen us and he’s coming over.’ Ophelia pulled a false grin as Xander approached. He was fair-haired like his mother and good-looking in a floppy-haired, boyish kind of way, but cockiness radiated from him, alongside a dazzling white smile. A similar young man was with him. He had darker, curly hair, and together they looked like they were ready to start their own boy band.
‘Well, hello, sis,’ he said. ‘I didn’t expect you to be here. Isn’t this beneath you, like the queen attending the peasants’ ball?’
She narrowed her eyes. It was the kind of thing Brann frequently came out with himself, but not this time. He wasn’t smiling, and he drew closer to her. He was so tall and broad chested he looked like a bear next to these two ferrets. ‘Scone Palace is hardly the place for peasants, Xander.’
‘Very true. It’s just that it’s a business type thing. For professionals. We’re here for the connections.’
Bully for him. Did he have any idea how successful her business was? Probably not. None of her family did, except her mother.
‘I saw some peacocks out front,’ the other man said. ‘They might be attending the pheasants’ ball.’ He and Xander laughed.
Brann glanced at Ophelia and pulled a face.
‘This is my friend Sean,’ Xander said once he’d stopped laughing. He eyed Brann and frowned.
‘Oh, this is Brann,’ Ophelia said.
‘Hello, Brian,’ Xander said.
‘Hi.’ Brann didn’t correct him on the name, and neither did Ophelia.
‘Is this who mother is marrying you off to now?’ Xander whispered.
‘Not exactly. He’s a… friend who stepped in last minute.’ It was weird calling Brann a friend, but no other word seemed to fit.
Sean was listening in and smiled somewhat smugly as Ophelia finished. ‘I wonder if you’d do me the great honour of dancing with me?’ he asked in a pompous voice.
‘Now?’ Ophelia gaped at him.
‘No time like the present.’
‘Well, um…’ She glanced at Brann, who raised an eyebrow.
‘If you feel the need,’ he said. ‘But only one. The next dance is mine.’
Sean took her hand, his palms sweaty and hot, and led her to the dancefloor. She winced as they took their positions. He had to be Xander’s age, and it was strange dancing with a friend of her younger brother.
‘You and I should see more of each other,’ Sean said.
‘What?’ Ophelia frowned, but her eyes were distracted. Brann stood at the edge of the dancefloor, talking with Xander, but his eyes were on her. Xander looked even more boyish next to him. Brann was red hot in his kilt and just dishevelled enough to be rugged without being scruffy. How Ophelia would love to prise back that lapel, drag him towards her by the bowtie, get her hands on his belt, his sporran…
‘I hear your father is trying to marry you off to the highest bidder. Totally shocking in this day and age, I might add. But if you’re looking for credentials.’ Sean’s cheeks were rosy as he blabbered, some of the cockiness momentarily gone.
‘You’re a little young for me.’
‘You think? Oh…’
She was relieved when the dance ended, and she returned to Brann. With a brief goodbye to Xander, she pulled Brann onto the dance floor.
‘What’s up?’ he said with a grin.
‘I think that child has ruined my dress by clinging to it with his sweaty palm.’
‘And now you want me to clean it off with mine?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Nothing would give me more pleasure.’ He swept his arm around her and pulled her close. ‘Well, something might, but right now, this’ll do.’
Ophelia wrapped her arms around his neck, surrendering to him. ‘Show me how real men dance.’
‘Don’t worry, I will.’ His words were like soft kisses on her ear. ‘That lad you were dancing with apparently has his sights set on you.’
‘So I discovered.’
‘Xander tells me he’s got great earning potential, but he’s got no chance of inheriting his family estate, which is apparently little more than a farm, because he has three older brothers. So instead, he wants to marry someone with lots of land. And Xander obviously told him about you, and tonight’s his lucky night.’
‘Oh, for god’s sake. He’s too young and I don’t fancy him.’
‘No?’ he whispered. ‘Who do you fancy?’
‘Stop it,’ she said through gritted teeth as he slid his palm over her bare back.
‘Stop what? Talking or doing this?’ He caressed her back lower with his other hand.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Then tell me, who do you fancy?’
‘Please, Brann, don’t make me answer that.’
He nuzzled his cheek against hers. He’d shaved, but there was still enough stubble to graze her soft skin. If Sean was watching, he’d surely realise he had no chance of competing with this guy. She only hoped Xander didn’t report back to Jacinta. She didn’t want to have to explain this.
The dancing continued until the meal was served. Ophelia stuck to Brann like glue and was pleased to be at a table with strangers where they could talk freely and not have to pretend to be this or that. Brann was fun to talk to and easy company. The food was good, and they both had several drinks as they were getting a taxi home. James had already booked and paid for it. Ophelia let a moment of guilt wash over her.
The dancing resumed after the meal, but the air was stuffy and too warm.
‘Should we go outside?’ she said. ‘It’s hard to breathe in here now.’
‘Ok. But it’ll be cold out there.’
‘You’ll have to keep me warm.’
‘Sounds like the perfect job.’
A few other people were outside in the courtyard. Brann put his arm around Ophelia, and they walked towards a little chapel on a hill close by. It was much darker here, and the air was cold. The palace looked stunning all lit up and, beyond it, the lights of Perth shimmered in the distance.
‘Can I kiss you?’ Brann’s softly spoken words in his low voice broke the silence.
Ophelia’s breath hitched. She wanted it more than anything, but where was all this going? ‘Why?’
‘Because I fancy you .’
‘I know that, Brann. But where is this leading?’
‘Nowhere. That’s the point. That’s why we should do it while we can, before you go off with some rich guy.’
‘Alright.’ She wrapped her arms around his neck again and they resumed their position from the dance floor earlier, only this time no one was watching. The darkness hid them, and Brann’s arms were like a safety belt. Nothing could harm her while he held her like this.
‘You’re so very beautiful, my princess.’ He dipped in, pressing his lips against hers.
Ophelia relaxed into him, savouring the soft warm kisses before delving deeper. Soon their tongues met, and she clenched her arms so tightly around his neck, she thought she might break it. But she wanted him, needed him. Every part of her connected with him on a spiritual as well as physical level. This was a meeting of body and soul. Brann held her tightly, perfectly cocooning her body. She didn’t want to be anywhere else. These were the only arms she wanted around her… Ever. But how the hell would that be possible?