Chapter Sixteen
Butterfly
“What do you think, Aimee? Which is better for a pub and cinema date?”
I hold up two outfits as she watches me from my phone via Connectivity Video Chat. Her blue eyes shift from one outfit to the other, then she bites on her lower lip as she carefully considers each one.
It’s Wednesday night, and Noah will be picking me up in about an hour to take me to dinner and a movie. Now I’m waiting for Aimee to help me make the very important decision of what to wear for my first real date with him.
Option number one is a new top I’ve never worn before. It’s a black apron top with ruffled straps and a zip up the back, and I would wear that with jeans and black strappy stilettos. The second option is a black crocheted cotton minidress.
“I like the top and jeans,” Aimee declares. “Save the dress for a nice dinner date.”
“Okay,” I say, setting the top down on my bed and going to my wardrobe and hanging the dress back up. I return to her, holding the cute little top up to my chest again.
“I love how that square neckline draws attention to your face,” she says. “And there’s something sweet—yet sexy—about those ruffles.”
“The top also exposes just a bit of my stomach, too,” I say. “Just a sliver before it hits the waistband of my jeans.”
Aimee grins. “Now that’s a nice way to torture him. Well done, Vi.”
I giggle. “Torturing him just a little is a good thing, right?”
“Torturing him a lot is more like it, and yes, that’s a good thing! How are you going to wear your hair?”
“Down,” I say. “And I’m going with a red lip tonight.”
Aimee frowns.
“What’s wrong with a red lip? Red looks great on me.”
“Yes, but when you kiss him, it will be all over his face.”
I twist my lips in thought. Hmm. She’s right about that.
“Unless you’re not planning on kissing him,” she says mischievously.
“Oh, I plan on kissing him,” I say, grinning wickedly. “But I think I want the red lipstick anyway. He can wipe it off.”
Aimee laughs. “That’s so you.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
We chat a few more minutes, and then I go about getting ready. I slip into my outfit and retrieve a black cotton cardigan in case the cinema gets cold. I put on some jewellery, layering a few delicate gold chains around my neck, and then my evil-eye necklace, which really pops. I smile. It’s always been a conversation starter necklace, and I have no doubt Noah will ask about it.
It’s funny. He’s really not shy, but quiet. Noah waits to get to know someone before engaging in conversation. When we were at Wisteria House last week—when we were alone—he had no problems talking when I prompted him.
And he definitely was not shy about kissing me.
I sweep my favourite red lipstick across my lips and grin as I think of this all over Noah’s face. It will be a mess.
It’s a mess I fully intend to have happen this evening.
I finish up and then grab my laptop. I head downstairs with a plan to go to the library, where I can work whilst I wait for Noah. As I hit the bottom of the stairs, I come across Nicholas and Amelia, who are both dressed in riding gear.
“I see you’re back from your day at Swallowhedge and going to take advantage of the nice weather,” I say, stopping in front of them.
“Oh, we are,” Amelia says, her green eyes sparkling. “I have missed riding with Nicholas so much, I’m determined to make up for it.”
He drops an arm around the top of her shoulders and draws her into his side, and she smiles adoringly up at him.
As I watch them, I can’t help but think how I nearly threw away an opportunity for this kind of relationship with Noah. Not that we’ll end up being soulmates or anything.
Suddenly I remember the mythology book in the library with the inscription.
Or maybe we are,I think as goosebumps sweep over my skin.
“What time is Darby coming? I’d like to at least say hello before you leave,” Nicholas says.
“He’ll be here in about an hour. But don’t worry about cutting your ride short. I definitely plan to bring him back here and show him more of the estate and grounds, and I’d love for the four of us to go out, too, if we can swing it.”
“Oh, I think we can do that,” Amelia says excitedly.
Nicholas nods. “Just tell us when and we’ll do it.”
“Okay, I’ll discuss it with Noah and let you know.”
“Perfect. Well, Peahen, are we ready?” he asks.
I wonder if Noah will give me a nickname. I mean, obviously not now—that would be weird as we haven’t even had our first date yet.
But you know, in the future. If we’re still dating and all that.
You will be,a voice in my head says seamlessly.
I blink, jolted by it. The thought came so fast and so firmly, it catches me off-guard.
Yet it doesn’t scare me.
At all.
“We’ll see you later, Violet,” Amelia says, interrupting my thoughts.
They depart for the stables, and I continue to the library. I kick off my shoes and leave them outside the entrance. Then I go to my favourite table in the room and open my laptop. I reread all my ideas, and then I flip over to Google so I can search for more of them to add to my list. So many estates do things with art, so the trick is to find something that won’t compete at the same time with other neighbouring estates here in Dorset.
So that leads me down a rabbit hole of cross-checking against event diaries, making notes. I frown a bit when I see so many events planned, but I also have to think there are enough art lovers in the world that people would come to any event I have planned, too.
Whilst I’m in my rabbit hole, my gaze keeps dropping to the clock on the bottom right-hand corner of my laptop. As the time ticks closer to when Noah will arrive, I get a little less interested in typing notes and more interested in seeing if his car will be winding up the front drive, as I gave him access to the gate that is now closed to visitors for the day. Sure, I could have him come around to the family entrance of the house, but he did that last time he was here. Besides, what is the joy of living in an estate like this if you can’t use it for grand entrances?
Buzz!
I glance down at my phone. It’s Aimee. I tap open her message and read:
Is the red lipstick a GO for being kissed all over that fit footballer?
I laugh at that and message her back:
IT IS.
Aimee is typing …
GOOD. Have fun! I expect ALL the details tomorrow! X
I type back:
Oh, Ames, I’m not the type of girl to kiss and tell, but for you? I *might* just make an exception. X
Suddenly I hear the sound of tyres on the drive, and I glance out the window. I see a sleek silver car coming down the gravel path and my heart dances like mad inside my chest. I’m not big on cars, so I have no idea what it is, but all that matters is that Noah is the man who is driving it. I save what I’m working on, close my laptop, and hurry over to the one mirror in the room to do a final check on my appearance.
I’m surprised at what I find in my reflection. My cheeks are flushed, my pupils are wide with excitement, and I can’t stop the smile that seems to be etched on my face.
My first real date with Noah is actually going to happen.
I slip my shoes back on and head out to the main hall, my heels clicking along the black-and-white marble floor. I pass by marble busts of my ancestors and antique tables with vases filled with freshly cut roses from the garden. Portraits of more relatives hang on the walls, and a detailed plaster ceiling is overhead. Sunlight beams through the front window, casting a beautiful glow onto the bust of the eighth Earl of Banfield.
To visitors who pass through these halls, this is a museum.
But to me? It’s only been known as a home.
When I think about that, I’m reminded of what privilege I have to be born into this family, and to have the responsibility to be a caretaker of this history for others to enjoy.
I reach the massive wooden door and slide the bar back to open it. I don’t need to wait for Noah to ring the doorbell.
Or to send my curious parents running ahead to pounce on him, I think wryly.
I step outside into the warm summer air. Today is the exact opposite of the rainy Monday we had, with beautiful blue skies overhead. The sun won’t set until late, so we have a gorgeous evening ahead of us.
The car comes closer, and I put my hand over my eyes to shade them from the sun. Noah is behind the wheel, his eyes covered by sunglasses. He raises a hand in greeting, and I see his wrist is adorned with some bracelets, along with a massive silver watch that reflects back at me in the sunlight.
So. Damn. Hot.
Now I can see the ornament on the bonnet of the car. It’s a Bentley, and I’m suddenly reminded he’s not just Noah, but a multimillionaire who probably has a fleet of posh cars to drive.
The car comes to a stop, and I find myself holding my breath. The door opens, and Noah exits.
Holy shit. He’s gorgeous.
Noah shuts his door and pauses for a moment, his expression serious. His sensual lips have parted a bit, and I’m pretty sure mine have, too.
I drink him in, from the pale grey dress shirt to the jeans that fit his athletic body to perfection. His shirtsleeves are rolled up, revealing his heavily inked arms. God, how hot is his ink? I love that he has tattoo sleeves and I love it even more that they are linked to Greek mythology. I also get a closer look at the three bracelets around his left wrist—two are beaded, one is leather.
Ooh, I like those bracelets. That adds another layer of hotness to his whole look.
Noah removes his sunglasses, and my eyes immediately lock with his. A massive smile lights up his face, and I find my breath catching in my throat.
“You look beautiful,” he says, coming towards me. Noah slides his hands around my back, drawing me into his body for a hug.
I feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of my shirt, and a thrill shoots through me from the sensation. I’m immediately aware of his cologne, and I bask in the clean citrus scent that is enveloping me.
The same scent I will find lingering on my own skin hours after he’s gone.
Noah steps back from me, but I happily notice his hands remain on the small of my back, and his palm makes contact with the sliver of skin exposed by my shorter top.
God, he feels divine.
“How was your drive? And how’s the cottage? Are you and Mila all settled?” I ask.
Noah smiles. “The drive was good. The cottage is amazing—I can’t wait for you to see it. And Mila enjoyed a walk on the shore before I left, she’s very happy and very tired.”
“Good,” I say happily. “I can’t wait to see the cottage later tonight.”
“Speaking of good, that’s how you look,” Noah says, rubbing one hand up and down my back.
“You mean better than something defrosted from a frozen-food shop?” I tease. “Because I looked horrible when you left me in London.”
His eyes sparkle at that comment, and I feel a bit giddy that I put that smile on his face.
“You,” he says sexily, “have never looked like anything I’ve defrosted out of my freezer.”
I laugh and slide my hands up his chest, and my palms glide over the exquisite fabric of his shirt. I can feel hard muscle there, and knowing it’s underneath the surface of this shirt?
Hella hot.
“What is this?” Noah asks, lifting one hand and gently tracing his index finger over my necklace. His fingertips are rough against my skin, and I shiver from the intimate contact.
“That,” I say, gazing up at him, “is my evil-eye necklace.”
“Evil eye,” he repeats, his fingertips brushing over it again. “Should I be concerned?”
I swallow. From the way my pulse is beating, I’m the one who should be concerned.
“Well, according to Google, there are all kinds of meanings,” I manage to get out. “One is that it wards off evil intentions.”
“And what else?” Noah asks, removing his fingertips from my necklace.
“It can bring good luck and good fortune,” I say softly.
“Has it brought you that?”
“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”
His eyes flicker intensely as he stares down at me. My words have surprised myself. I’m used to flirting with men, but not to this level.
Not where I mean exactly what I say.
“I’m here,” Noah says, his voice low. “And there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Ooh!
We stay in our fixed positions, with one of his hands still on my back, and my palms resting against his chest.
I clear my throat. “Well, I’m glad to hear that,” I say, smiling mischievously at him. “Would you like to come in? I know my parents would love to see you again.”
“Of course.”
“Did you get the grand tour when you came last time?” I ask as we move towards the carved wooden door.
“Not a complete tour.”
“I can’t believe Nicholas didn’t show you all seventy-five rooms,” I tease. “What a horrible host.”
“No, he’s the perfect host. Nicholas was all about the good time.”
“Well, you should still experience the house. But I will save that for tomorrow, it will take a while.”
“You must be convinced I’m not going to fail the pick and mix test,” Noah says, reaching for my hand and slowly threading his fingers through mine, “if you are making plans to give me the grand tour.”
I practically grow giddy from the fact that he wants to hold my hand. “I have complete confidence in your ability to pass my test,” I tease.
“Good. Because I don’t intend to fail,” he says softly.
I somehow manage to lead him through the house, pointing out the rooms we pass by on the way to the private family part of the home, and when we reach the den, I find my parents hanging out. Dad is watching TV and Mum is reading something on her phone.
“Hello,” I call out cheerfully. “Noah is here.”
Both my parents smile and stand up. Noah is reintroduced to them. He shakes their hands, and as soon as he is finished, his right hand reclaims mine in his.
I see Mum’s eyes dart towards our linked fingers, and no doubt she’s running through her checklist of concerns with Noah being a footballer.
But I’m learning who this man is,I think with determination. And I know without a doubt, Noah is a man I can trust.
“So what are you two doing tonight?” Dad asks.
“We’re going to have dinner and then go to the cinema,” I say.
“Oh, what are you seeing?” Mum asks.
Noah rattles off the name of the new spy thriller that has just come out.
Dad chuckles. “Noah, I hope you don’t have your heart set on it. You don’t know how many times she changed her mind by the time we got to the cinema. She’ll see a poster and suddenly insist we see something else. That’s our girl. Always the butterfly.”
Embarrassment engulfs me. I know Dad isn’t trying to hurt me, but he’s reinforcing the image I never want Noah to associate with me.
I can feel Noah’s gaze on my profile, and I don’t dare meet it. What is he thinking? That I can’t even commit to a movie without changing my mind?
And after what I pulled last week …
A sinking feeling threatens to engulf me. My hand grows clammy, I can feel it, and I remove it from Noah’s, hopefully before he notices.
“Um, we should get going,” I say, forcing a smile on my face. “I’ll be back later.”
“Have fun,” Mum says cheerfully.
“It was good to see you again, Noah,” Dad says. “Enjoy your time in Dorset.”
“There’s no doubt I will, sir,” he says politely.
We leave the den, and I begin to fill the space between us with endless chatter as we make our way towards the part of the house that is on display to the public. As soon as we shut the door shut behind us to the private family wing, Noah stops me dead in my tracks by putting his hands gently around my waist.
“Don’t let your dad get in your head,” he says firmly.
I blink. “Wh—what?”
Noah escorts me to an old bench lining the hallway. “Let’s sit for a second.”
I take a seat, stunned. He sits next to me and takes my hand again, interlocking our fingers and resting them on the top of his muscular thigh.
“You tensed the second he called you a butterfly,” Noah says quietly. “Your hand got cold, and you withdrew from me. It got into your head, and I’m here to get it out.”
Emotions rise to the surface. How did I end up here, with Noah in my hallway? With this man who has managed to see beyond the surface, to someone I’m still trying to be?
Despite what I’ve done, he’s not afraid.
And now he’s here to champion for me.
I swallow hard, unable to speak. I shift my gaze to the floor, scared that if I look him in those beautiful dark eyes, I’ll begin to cry.
“You know,” Noah says softly, “I have a different definition of butterfly.”
Despite myself, my head jerks up to look at him. Noah releases my hand and cups the side of my face.
“I see a butterfly as something beautiful,” he says, his fingertips now gliding along my cheekbone, “and delicate. But strong because they can change. They evolve from something completely different. Grow into something new. And that’s what you’re doing, Violet. You’re so brave.”
Brave.
A word I’ve never heard associated with my name.
“Thank you,” I whisper, doing everything I can to stem the flow of tears that threaten to break free. “Thank you so much for saying that.”
“I mean it. You are brave. Braver than I am, that’s for sure.”
“I am not,” I declare.
“You are.”
“Are we going to argue about this?” I tease.
He grins, and I swear to God, my heart skips a beat.
“No. Because I’m right.”
I grin up at him, too, and his hand slides to the nape of my neck, his fingertips dancing along it now.
“Come on. We’d better leave before I get myself into trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
Noah lifts a brow. “The kind of trouble where I kiss you right here with the chance of your family walking in on us. No offence to your family.”
I lean my head against his shoulder and laugh softly. “None taken.”
I lift my head so I can stare at this man, this footballer who is beginning to turn my life into something completely different than it was before.
And I can’t wait to see where we go tonight with each other.