Chapter 26
HERE I AM, running. With Adam. Hating the world as my lungs burn and my legs threaten to buckle beneath me. Gabi made a comment to Adam about Natalia running with him and how weird it was that I hadn’t. All because Adam opened his big mouth and told her that we run together at home.
Gravel crunches under my feet as I struggle to keep going. At one point I almost lost sight of Adam and had to cry out to get him to slow down so I didn’t wind up lost in the English countryside.
‘Do you need to stop?’ Adam asks, his voice not showing any strain.
‘No,’ I grunt. I need water though. And maybe a stretcher.
‘We can walk back,’ he says.
I bet Natalia didn’t need to walk back. I push my sweat-soaked hair off my forehead. ‘I’m fine,’ I gasp and pump my arms harder like that will magically give me more stamina.
He slows until I catch up. ‘Running is a great way to clear your head.’
I grit my teeth as sweat rolls into my eyes.
‘And it’s a great stress-reliever.’
‘Stop talking,’ I bite out. If I’d known that going for a run with Adam would be the quickest way to douse all my confusing feelings toward him, I would’ve been doing this from day one. Okay, that’s a total lie. Nothing is worth this torture.
‘Come on, let’s turn back.’ He checks his watch. ‘Your mum will kill me if we’re late for today’s excursion.’ He takes off towards the manor.
We both know that, yes, she will be furious, but we also know that I’m the one who has slowed us down. Although he was the one who brought up Gabi’s comments so, yes, the fault is his. And Gabi’s for being so bloody nosy.
Determined to keep pace, I lengthen my strides and try to ignore the groans of my legs. Pain slices through my stomach and settles into a stitch, taking all my focus. Adam glances over his shoulder and stops. It’s so sudden that I crash into his hard chest with a shriek.
‘Sabrina.’ His hands grip my arms roughly, keeping me upright. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Why’d you stop?’ I gasp out and double over with the stitch. A wave of nausea rolls over me. Clamping my lips shut, I try to slow my breaths.
‘You look like you’re about to pass out.’ He keeps one hand wrapped around my arm, the other massages my neck, soothing my urge to empty my stomach.
‘Water,’ I pant. ‘I need water.’
‘I didn’t bring any.’
I straighten and clutch my side with a groan. ‘Who doesn’t bring water on a run?’ I ask even though it’s blatantly obvious that I didn’t bring any either so getting angry at him for not having a bottle on standby is ridiculous.
‘Come on,’ he says, not rising to the argument I’m trying to provoke. ‘It’s not far.’
‘It may as well be another planet,’ I say dramatically and I stagger forward. ‘This better shut Gabi up because I’m not putting myself through this again.’
His lips twitch.
‘It’s not funny.’
‘Do you want me to carry you?’ he asks, a smile breaking on his face.
He reaches for me and I swat his hands away.
‘A piggyback then?’
‘I’m not a child,’ I say with a pout that completely contradicts my words.
He shrugs, still wearing his stupid smile. ‘Suit yourself.’ He keeps walking and I’m left to hobble after him.
‘Fine,’ I mutter and avoid looking at his smirk when he stops. He crouches and I drag myself onto his back, the sting of humiliation now more painful than the stitch. I’m about to change my mind when his hands grip my legs and pull them tight against his sides.
‘Ready?’ he asks.
I slide my arms over his shoulders and lock them against his chest. His back is warm and solid, reassuring. I lean into him and the frustration seeps out of me as he heads down the path, not showing any sign that the person clinging desperately to him is a burden in any way.
‘Thank you,’ I mumble into his hair. His soft, soft hair.
I lean into his back, my lips brushing those soft strands.
I inhale slowly, heat pulsing through me.
Shit. I slam my eyes shut and squeeze them so tightly they hurt.
I just kissed Adam Whittaker’s hair. If he noticed, I’ll…
I’ll dive into the ocean and float out into its depths. Start a new life wherever I end up.
Adam’s fingers press firmly into my thighs, flex, and then squeeze again and I have to suck in a breath to stop myself moaning. How does he do it? One touch and I’m at his mercy. It’s maddening.
‘This here is where Clementine ran away to after Alexander tried to convince her not to marry Charles,’ Bill says with a scratch of his bushy white beard.
We’ve stopped at the arched doorway of a Tudor-style gatehouse, looking out at a sprawling collection of stone buildings and the remnants of an old moat surrounding them.
Wide lawns spread beneath the shade of towering trees—oaks, yews and horse chestnuts—and I just know Dad is itching to get in there.
‘Who can tell me why this place was so important to Clementine?’ Bill asks.
Two hands shoot into the air.
Gabi groans. ‘You don’t need to raise your hands.’
And you don’t need to say that every time Mum and Aunt Carol do it. The words are right there on the tip of my tongue, but, like always, they remain unsaid.
‘Bill prefers raised hands to raised voices,’ Mum says. ‘Isn’t that right, Bill?’
‘Yes ma’am.’ He tips his tweed flat hat with a wink. ‘Go ahead, Dianne.’
Mum straightens her shoulders and tugs at the hem of her navy blouse.
‘This was where they filmed the exterior shots of the abbey where Clementine lived before Lord and Lady Hamesley adopted her. When she was torn between Alexander and Charles she came back here to get advice from the nuns who raised her.’
Aunt Carol nods her agreement. Today she’s decked out in a Mr Darcy tribute T-shirt.
Colin Firth occupies the front, and Matthew Macfadyen has the back.
I get the need to pay homage to both. There’s no way I could choose between the two.
I mean, there’s the infamous stepping out of the pond scene from Firth and the hand clench from Macfadyen.
Both belong in the museum of hot male leads.
‘The nuns told her to follow her heart, and initially she chose Charles. But then Alexander professed his love in the grandest gesture,’ Aunt Carol says.
Adam steps away from the group to examine the stones of the gatehouse.
‘Is there an abbey in your book?’ Amelia skips over to him. ‘It could have secret tunnels.’
‘I might put an abbey in my book,’ Adam says.
Amelia beams at him.
He’s being nice to my niece. He’s also being nice to my family.
He greeted everyone with a smile this morning.
He carried me back from our run. He needs to stop being nice.
Nice Adam is sexy. And sexy Adam makes me want to rip his clothes off.
I need grumpy Adam back if I have any hope of shaking my attraction.
‘Sabrina!’ Amelia turns her toothy grin on me. ‘Adam’s new book is going to have an abbey with secret tunnels.’
‘Cool,’ I say and tug Amelia to me, swaying us as I wrap my arms around her. ‘Do you know what you should do?’
She tilts her head back and I point at the collection of buildings through the gatehouse. ‘You and Adam should draw those together so he can use it for reference.’
‘Yes,’ she squeals. ‘I have my notebook on the bus.’ She races off to ask Bill to let her back onto the bus.
‘Why would you do that?’ Adam asks.
Because it’s made you scowl and your scowl is easier to deal with than the smile that makes me want to kiss you. ‘Isn’t art part of your writing process? Were you or were you not painting this morning?’
He shakes his head and mutters something that I can’t quite hear. His phone pings and he digs it out of his pocket, his shoulders relaxing as he reads the message. I crane my neck, trying to catch a peek at the screen.
‘Good news?’ I ask.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you care to share what it is?’
He crosses his arms. ‘Do you care to save me from an afternoon sketching with your niece?’
I mimic his stance.
‘That’s what I thought.’
‘I’m ready!’ Amelia races back over, waving her notebook in the air.
Adam levels a look at me, one final plea for help, which I ignore.
It’s for the greater good. And by greater good, I mean…
shit, I don’t know what I mean. All I know is that I need to bury these feelings that have weaselled their way into me because Adam and I—it’s a terrible idea.
Because, because we can’t last an hour without bickering, and I don’t want to date someone who travels for work.
He does book tours and book fairs and book festivals and lots of other book-related things that involve him getting on a plane and staying in hotels and cosying up to readers and influencers.
Like Natalia. Influencers who all look like her and will help him promote his books.
On that note, I leave him to my niece and go and crouch beside Dad at a plant with bristly stems. He plucks one of its small, bright-blue flowers and is in the middle of explaining self-seeding when Mum squeals and I tumble backwards, landing heavily on my butt in the dirt.
‘Everyone, Bill’s just told me the next stop is the chapel where Alexander stops the wedding between Clementine and Charles, and I’ve got a brilliant idea.’ The words tumble out in a frenzied rush. ‘We’re going to do a reenactment.’ Her hands come together in an excited clap.
Gabi groans. ‘Mum, we’re not kids anymore.’
‘We’re not doing it,’ Tommy says.
Mum flaps her hand. ‘Stop your complaining. We’re doing this. I’ll make a great Lady Hamesley.’
‘Because you’re both so dramatic,’ Gabi mutters.
‘And your dad was born to be the stoic Lord Hamesley,’ she continues, ignoring Gabi. ‘But who…’ Her voice trails off as she casts a look over everyone. Natalia grins widely when Mum pauses on her. The moment is brief before her eyes settle on me, sending a tidal wave of dread over me.
‘Our Clementine,’ she breathes and then points to Adam. ‘And her Alexander.’
‘No,’ Adam and I shout in unison.