Chapter 15 #2
The truth of it was, it was beginning to feel an awful lot like relief, making her wonder if she’d even been living up to this point– or was it more of an existence, and a crappy one at that, constantly being at Jason’s and Tara’s beck and call?
Go here, Scarlett. Do that, Scarlett. No, Scarlett, not that way!
Yes, she was hurt, but relief was definitely winning.
It was a good hour and a half before Scarlett finished unpacking Ana?se’s vast wardrobe, giving her further perspective on how little she actually owned herself. She hoped that, at a bare minimum, Jason would send on some of her clothes.
Not that she owned that many. She was a basic trouser or jeans and top kind of girl, which often irritated Jason, leading to one of his many mild tantrums.
“Could you at least make a bit of an effort?” he would say, the disapproval clear across his face.
His frustration would aggravate her.
Perhaps years of marriage would do that, but it also made her more stubborn.
“There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing!” Scarlett would glance at her reflection in the oversized ornate mirror leaning against the wall of their bedroom.
On this particular occasion, she’d braided her hair into a bun and wore black, wide-legged trousers, a fitted white t-shirt, a black blazer, and white and cream trainers.
It wasn’t a dress, but in her opinion, she looked suitably smart, presentable, and, more importantly, she was comfortable– just the idea of heels would tempt a blister to appear– and she was even wearing makeup.
“You do own dresses.” Jason towered over her reflection in the mirror, smoothing his blonde hair, looking smart and handsome as always. “Could you not have worn one of those?”
“Christ, Jason.” Scarlett had rolled her eyes and walked out of the room, calling behind her, “It’s just your mother coming for dinner, not the fucking Queen.”
Scarlett considered if that’s where it perhaps all went wrong.
She simply hadn’t been Tara enough for him.
She certainly didn’t miss that aspect of their relationship.
Her overpowering mother-in-law was a bully, and Scarlett felt satisfied she had finally confronted her. The prospect of never again facing her left Scarlett feeling giddy. Life was hard enough without having someone like that dictating everything down to her wardrobe selection.
Scarlett switched on the Mackintosh-style lamps on each side of the huge bed, casting a soft warm glow across the room, and taking a final glance around, satisfied all was as it should be, she turned off the main light and closed the door behind her.
Despite the questionable event with Edward earlier in the day and the rude uninvited interruption from Jason, Scarlett found a sense of satisfaction in all she’d achieved and all the work in the run-up to it.
Sure, it wasn’t brain surgery, but making houses feel like a home was something she excelled at– and although Haddon House was a huge project, Scarlett and the rest of the staff had already brought half of the east wing back to life, ready for its visitors.
It left her feeling full of pride– and hunger, according to the loud growl from her stomach; hours had passed since she’d eaten Mrs Wilson’s soup.
She smiled.
Scarlett liked the older woman, whose endless capacity for kindness and cooking pleased her. The woman’s genuine delight in Scarlett’s efforts brought her more satisfaction than even pleasing the laird himself.
She silently scolded herself for letting him back in her head again, simultaneously pausing at a closed door further down the hall, reaching out to trace the detail of the vines engraved into the wooden frame.
A lot of the doorways had similar frames– each design was unique, adding a certain charm and personality to the house.
The room was now allocated to Haddon House’s monk in residence, but Scarlett wasn’t thinking about anyone in the wedding party. No, her unruly thoughts were already racing back to what had occurred beyond the door before the Americans’ arrival.
Before she could stop herself, the memory of Edward’s hands on her bare skin, fingers hungry and searching, hitched Scarlett’s breath.
Embarrassed by her thoughts and feeling ashamed that she was getting so distracted by Edward whilst fresh out of a messy marriage, Scarlett hurried along the hallway and down the stairs.
Rounding the corner to flee the house and its intoxicating inhabitants, Scarlett ran straight into a hard chest attached to two powerful arms that quickly enveloped and steadied her.
“Oh fuck, sorry.” The words escaped from her mouth before she could filter them.
Leonard’s lopsided smile unnerved her. “Easy now.”
Every time the man spoke, it seemed like he was privy to some private joke she was unaware of.
“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention…” Scarlett trailed off, suddenly feeling unsure of herself and not knowing what was and wasn’t an appropriate way to talk to these people anymore.
Leonard seemed immune to any such feelings, as his hands were still holding on to her arms.
“Don’t worry, I’m paying plenty.” His gaze was unwavering and slightly hypnotic. “Where are you rushing off to in such a hurry?”
“My mum will have dinner ready,” Scarlett said, her attention still focused on his hands, which were now caressing her arms– or was she imagining it?
As if reading her mind, he stroked the top of her arms with more weight and purpose, as if checking she was still in one piece, and appeared reluctant to let go of her, although he finally did.
“How is it being in the studio?”
“Great, yeah.” Scarlett felt she could breathe and talk normally now his hands were no longer on her. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah? That’s good. I spent many misspent evenings there when I was younger whenever my mum was off on her travels. Girls would go crazy for the artwork; it was always a surefire way of getting laid.”
Scarlett couldn’t help laughing. “Yes, I can imagine the whole I own an estate didn’t hurt your chances, either.”
Leonard had the humility to laugh before he shrugged and nodded.
“Lennie… my glass is still empty!” Ana?se’s voice shrilled from further down the corridor.
He didn’t flinch, though, his eyes searching Scarlett’s– for what, she didn’t know– before he sighed and rolled his own.
“Ana?se waits for no man.”
“Or a drink, it would seem.”
The pair laughed and finally he looked away.
“Enjoy your dinner, Scarlett.” He turned to walk away, but stopped and grabbed hold of her hand, stroking it gently. “You’ve done an incredible job with the house already, in just a couple of days. We’re all in awe– the wedding is going to be spectacular.”
“Lennie!” the voice called again.
He laughed, a genuine and good-natured laugh. “I’m clearly needed. Goodnight, Scarlett.”
“Goodnight, Leonard.” Scarlett watched him leave, then took her coat from a hook at the back door, as was her original plan.
Firmly closing the door behind her, she shook her head.
What the very fuck was that?
Scarlett pulled her coat around her and trudged up the path towards the stables, deciding it was best to dismiss any thoughts of Jason and the Cameron-Reid boys. No good would come of it– no matter how attractive or charming they were.
She ran the last short distance to the big red door, where the smell of stew welcomed her.