Chapter 22 #2
Without saying a word, Evan took my hand and pulled me to my feet. We stood there together in the sunshine. ‘Come on.’
I could feel the sunlight glancing through the material of my dress as he led me across the lawns and back into his family home.
Every emotion sizzled through me.
The loaded glances Evan kept delivering over at me sent my stomach spiralling to the ground.
We clattered through the side door, into the kitchen and out into the great hall. My breath was ragged with excitement.
The grand, white staircase sat in front of us. Evan swept me off my feet and up into his arms. I let out a squeal of surprise and wrapped my arms around his neck.
‘Bring back any memories?’ he teased, cradling me in his arms as he strode upstairs towards his bedroom.
‘Maybe,’ I grinned, wanting to imprint every second onto my memory.
The way Evan was holding me against his chest; the smell of his skin; the shine of his blueberry hair.
He’d rescued me from myself and brought so much happiness and fun back into my life.
At first, I’d thought he was a bit of a stuffed shirt, but he’d opened up to me and let me in.
That had made me fall for him even more.
Was I imagining all of this? Perhaps I was dreaming it, and all this wonderful experience was happening to someone else?
I squeezed my eyes shut for a few seconds. Nope. I was still wrapped in this amazing man’s arms, about to go to bed with him for the first time.
We reached the top of the stairs, and Evan proceeded to transport me past the portraits of his ancestors and the ornate wall lamps, along to his closed bedroom door.
The look he gave me as he delivered one bold kick to his bedroom door to open it made me gasp.
He laid me down on top of his queen-sized bed and grinned wolfishly. ‘Don’t you move.’
Evan closed his curtains, returned to his bedroom door and locked it. Then he turned and waggled his eyebrows.
I giggled and propped myself up on one elbow. ‘Aren’t we supposed to be working on the final arrangements for the tour?’
‘Everybody needs a break now and again.’
Evan returned to the bed and playfully climbed on top of me. I was underneath him, wriggling with desire. My heart was skipping in my chest.
He leant down and kissed me. The serious fullness of his mouth was intoxicating. God, I wanted him so much it hurt.
I wanted to feel Evan’s body against mine, fitting together like the pieces of a jigsaw.
The prospect of making love to Evan and appreciating every inch of him was making my belly ache with longing.
As I gazed up into Evan’s chiselled face and ran a finger over his stubbly jaw, Leon didn’t exist anymore.
Nobody did. With just the birds chattering in the trees outside his bedroom window and the lunchtime sunshine lighting up the closed curtains, it was as if Evan and I were the only people in the world.
I was falling in love with him. I trusted him.
We undressed each other slowly and deliberately, our fingers fumbling and brushing against each other.
And as we made love, tumbling around on the bed covers, I knew I couldn’t feel any happier and more wanted than I did right now.
* * *
‘A drink, Ms Madden?’
I nestled my head against Evan’s bare chest with its irresistible, coarse dark hair.
His bedsheets were pooled around us, and the lazy afternoon sun was fighting to get through his closed curtains.
He whispered into my hair. ‘I think we should have champagne. After all, that’s what brought us together.
’ Evan lifted a finger and traced it down my spine, making me shiver with delight.
‘A glass would be lovely. Thank you.’
Evan dropped his head and delivered a slow, deliberate kiss to my mouth before getting up to tug his T-shirt and boxers back on. His naked body was sinewy and toned, just as I’d imagined it in my mind.
‘Won’t be long.’
I returned his dreamy, wide smile and sank back against the pillows.
I found myself grinning like an idiot up at the corniced bedroom ceiling.
Was it wrong to be so happy? Was I risking a major letdown feeling like this?
Allowing my emotions to bubble and spill over?
If it was, I couldn’t help it. It was as if I were playing a part in some romantic drama, and at any moment the director would holler, ‘Cut!’ and I’d be dragged back to reality with a fierce bump.
From downstairs, I could hear him clinking champagne glasses in the kitchen and singing to himself. He sounded like I felt: lighter and bubbling with happiness.
I pushed myself upright in bed. It was as though this old house was savouring the moment too. Everything looked golden and brimming with promise. I strained my ears and beamed. Evan was belting out ‘Universe’ by Coldplay.
I heaved a contented sigh and swung my legs out of bed. Evan had tossed my yellow sundress over the chair in the far corner. I recalled the way his charged eyes had taken in the length of me, and how his fingers had dismissed my dress.
I padded over, scooped it up and slid it back over my head. My skin and lips still carried the delicious taste of him.
I caught sight of myself in his ensuite bathroom mirror when I dived in there for a pee. My loose hair was tumbling around my face and down past my shoulders in dishevelled waves. My eyes shone back at me, knowing and silvery grey. Even my cheeks sang with a pretty, pink blush.
I washed my hands, tried to make myself look more presentable and returned back to the bedroom.
‘Don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,’ called up Evan from the bottom of the stairs. ‘I’ll pop a couple of almond croissants in the oven.’
I twirled the hem of my dress as though I were some princess in a fairytale. ‘Sounds good.’
It was as I returned to flop back down on top of the bed that I noticed Evan’s laptop sitting on his writing desk. It was open and plugged in, making a soft whirring sound. It pinged, signalling the arrival of an email.
I tucked a couple of loose hairs back behind my ears, paying little attention to the screen at first. It was the mention of Fox that I noticed in the email which made me draw up, almost cricking my neck.
What? What was that?
My curiosity on fire, I approached the laptop as though it might take a bite out of me.
My eyes and brain struggled to process what I was reading.
Hi Evan.
Hope life is treating you well!
The old man is pushing for next week’s copy for your Fox column. Not like you to be late turning it in!
Anyway, your trademark stinging, pithy comments and louche asides as usual, please, on the three TV shows as discussed.
Get that copy in sharpish! He’s in one of his moods!
Hope to catch up soon when you’re back in London for a pint or three.
Best,
Robin.
My insides froze.
What?
I’d misunderstood.
I forced myself to read over the email again, slower this time.
But it didn’t change the meaning. It didn’t change anything.
Was this some sort of twisted joke? A mistake?
No, it wasn’t a mistake.
My eyes were locked onto the screen.
With my dress flapping around my knees and the noise of a jolly Evan clanging around in the kitchen, I grabbed onto the back of his leather chair in case my knees gave way.
My insides turned to concrete. Everything was shifting in front of my eyes.
That loud-mouth at the party; how he’d been talking about Sinister, in the same way as Fox. How Evan had jumped in and stopped me from doing something I would have regretted later.
That bolshy ignoramus. I’d assumed he was Fox … I’d said that to Evan, and he hadn’t contradicted me.
Oh God.
I stared at my stricken face in Evan’s floor-to-ceiling mirror across the bedroom.
I’d got it all wrong. That man at the party hadn’t been Fox.
Evan was.