Chapter 19
Nineteen
Allegra
Before my relationship with my father crumbled upon learning his secret, Aria and I used to attend a lot of his film premieres.
We stood on the red carpet in fancy gowns beside our glamorous parents while paparazzi shouted at them to “Look this way” all the while blinding us with their camera flashes.
Footage of us had more than once been discussed by a group of famous women who hosted a panel show where they conversed about social and pop culture.
They’d argued over if my clothing was suitable attire for a girl my age, and how proud Aria should be for touting society ideals about body type.
Like it was Aria’s choice to be a curvy goddess and not Mother Nature’s.
And like it was any of their fucking business what she looked like or what I wore.
I remember being followed by a pap when I was fourteen and on a date with Dax Reynolds, the actor Moira Reynolds’s son.
Dax was two years older than me, but we attended the same high school, and everyone was so jealous he’d asked me out.
At the time I’d just been excited to be dating him, but once the photos of us were published, people online started talking about how he was too old for me.
Dax got weirded out by the attention and dumped me.
Lately, I’d made peace with the images of me and Jared that were splashed all over the internet with headlines like “The Farmer’s Wife,” a supposedly cute reference to my father’s movie of the same title.
I should have known they’d go there. Jared and I had avoided being seen in the village together, not wanting to give them fodder for their newspapers.
The great thing about living in Ardnoch was that the villagers were protective of the tourism brought in by the estate’s celebrity members, and thus protective of the celebrities.
Paps were not welcome. So, they got bored after a few days and left.
Jared took it all in remarkably good stride.
Long ramble short, I was used to being the focus of attention in certain situations.
However, the one place I’d never gotten used to it was at my own art shows.
I’d had quite a few over the years, the worst being at art school where the purpose was to be judged and graded.
There was no way I’d ever get used to someone scrutinizing something I’d created.
Something that was born from a deep, personal place inside me.
Standing in a room filled with people looking at it was almost as bad as standing there completely naked.
In fact, I’d probably deal with public nudity better than this.
“Are you okay?” Jared’s warm breath tickled my ear and I had to force off a shiver of want.
The last few weeks, since our heart-to-heart, things between us had been different.
Better. And also worse. Jared was warmer and more open with me, but that also meant it was easier for me to catch feelings.
I was trying very, very hard not to catch feelings.
Unfortunately, the physical desire train had left the station long ago.
Tonight he was my support. But also my temptation, because as “husband and wife,” this was the first time Jared was really playing his part since the wedding.
And apparently it involved keeping a possessive palm pressed to my back or taking my hand in his whenever he could. Touching! It involved touching. I was already nervous for the show but with Jared’s hands on my body, I was overstimulated.
I glanced up at him from under my lashes. “I always get nervous at these things.”
“You’ve no need,” he replied sincerely. “Seriously, Allegra … I’m no expert, but I think your work is phenomenal.”
I leaned against him. “Thank you.”
Together we’d survived the world finding out about our marriage and the explosiveness of revealing it to my parents.
Well, the explosiveness of my mother discovering the truth.
My dad was, as I’d guessed he would be, congratulatory and introspective about the whole thing.
Mamma was not. Mamma was incensed that not only had I married behind everyone’s back, thus depriving her of a wedding, I’d married a Scotsman, just like my sister.
Why did we want to be so far away from her?
she’d demanded. Then, of course, she didn’t disappoint with “And a farmer! A farmer, Allegra!”
Jared had left the room at that point and my protective instincts kicked in. I had intended to be cool and calm while my mother ranted. However, hearing her insult Jared flipped a switch in me. While she yelled at me in Italian, I yelled back in good old-fashioned English.
Dad attempted to calm Mamma down, but she stormed off in a melodramatic wail of tears.
I’d have felt bad if I believed for a second any of her concerns truly had to do with my well-being.
Don’t get me wrong. I knew my mother loved me.
But her first thought would always be for herself, and how it looked that Chiara Howard’s daughter had married an anonymous farmer.
“We’re coming to Scotland at the end of the summer before filming on my new movie starts,” Dad had replied with an unsure smile. “We’ll meet your young man then.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“Congratulations, angel.”
Aching regret had plagued me at the sadness in his eyes. My feelings for my dad were so complicated, and I wished things were easier between us. “Thanks.”
We’d ended the call and I’d gone to find Jared to apologize for my mother’s appalling behavior. Thankfully, he didn’t put up walls between us again and we’d found a rhythm in our marriage these last few weeks.
Other than the fact that we weren’t having the sex my body so desperately wanted, we lived like a real husband and wife.
I took over some morning chores at the farm, including helping to keep the house clean, then I went about my day, whether it was at the studio or exploring for inspiration.
Or catching up with Aria and/or Sloane for lunch.
Sarah and Theo had left for their place in Gairloch with an open invitation for us to visit.
In the evenings, I’d come home and Jared and I would take turns making dinner, sometimes cooking together.
We’d catch each other up on our days, and then we’d settle in the living room to watch TV before bed.
It wasn’t glamorous.
It was a simple life.
And if it had also involved banging my hot husband every night, it would have been a perfect life.
A life I’d always dreamed of.
Which made it infinitely dangerous to me.
“I’ll show you my favorite,” Jared suddenly said, tugging on my hand.
He pulled me through the crowd, most of them turning to peer at us curiously as we passed.
Then he stopped me in front of one of my larger pieces.
It was a landscape, inspired by the northern lights.
I’d visited Shetland in February. It was my first time on the island and the couple who ran the B&B I’d stayed at couldn’t have been kinder.
They pretty much adopted me on that trip, and they’d taken me to see the northern lights.
It was one of the most wondrous moments of my life.
I’d painted the greens and yellows and pinks as if they’d been misted by rain, some lines splattered with a thickness to create texture.
Shards of thinly sliced opal mingled with the paint, reflecting light and shimmer against flecks of metallic glitter.
Darker shadows created the mountains at night.
And through the paint I’d sprinkled tiny garnets over the mountains to emulate garnets that were found on the rocks on Shetland.
A line of copper paint represented the sunset the evening I’d seen them, haloing the dark mountains.
This was one of my favorite pieces I’d ever done. “This is your favorite?” I asked in awe.
Jared nodded, studying it with genuine appreciation in his eyes. “I think it’s stunning. It’s the northern lights, right?”
I bit my lip to stop the cheesy grin. The art was titled Shetland, so the fact that he understood what I’d attempted to capture was huge. “It is.” I turned to him, and Jared faced me. “It’s so weird … this is one of my favorite pieces ever. Michelle really had to talk me into selling it.”
“Aye?” He frowned. “Don’t sell it, then. If you want to keep it, you should. You’re allowed to enjoy the art you create.”
Studying the glass, I realized he was right. I’d let Michelle convince me to sell this one because I thought as an artist, I was supposed to share everything I created. But … why couldn’t I keep this one for me?
“It would look great above the fireplace instead of that old mirror we have now,” Jared murmured thoughtfully.
He wanted to put my art in the farmhouse?
My heart skipped a freaking beat.
“Let me just find Michelle and tell her to stick a SOLD sign on it.”
Jared grinned. “You do that.”
Michelle’s gallery in Inverness was not a huge space.
This was my second time showing at her gallery, and the place was more packed than it had been the first time.
Aria had been set to attend until I learned this weekend was the only chance she had to see North while he was shooting on location in Paris.
Otherwise, she wouldn’t see him for another few weeks.
I’d told her to go visit her husband. I had mine to keep me company.
As for the rest of our friends, I hadn’t told them about the show. It was easier to be vulnerable with strangers about my work than with those who knew and cared about me.
Approaching Michelle, I commented on how busy the gallery was.
“I told you people are loving your work. I’ve been sending pieces all over the country.” Michelle gave my shoulders a squeeze. “You’re one of my top artists, Allegra. You should be so proud of yourself.”
I did feel a swell of pride. Grinning, I replied, “Speaking of, I want you to put a SOLD sign on Shetland.”
“Ooh.” Her blue eyes rounded with excitement. “Did someone else offer on it?”
“Else?”