Page 32 of Love and Loathing

Liv’s smile deepened, knowing. It was what she liked, this power over him that no one else had. He hated her for it. Loved her. Hated her.Try some gum.

He breathed a laugh, everything twisting all at once inside him, Evie’s eyes in the dark and Liv’s smiling mouth and pain and lust and want and anger—anger at his own dumb self to be tempted, even now.“Even though she’s awful?”

She was. Liv was awful. Truly, dreadfully awful. Evie was right about that.

He looked up as they reached the trees, somehow madly hoping that she might step out from between the trunks, a vengeful, infuriating wraith, to distract him, laugh at his crushed heart, save him…

She’d rescue us all if she could.

“Ah, here comes the cavalry.”

He turned at George’s voice. Hugo and Amy were walking across the grass. Evie with them.

FIFTEEN

“Why are you stillhere?” her father asked in a low voice as Evie reached the group, his eyes flashing with irritation despite the polite smile he was holding onto.

“Couldn’t tear myself away,” she murmured back, unfazed. Aubrey was watching, and she was sure he had heard, despite how quietly she had spoken. So she impulsively decided to build on the moment and fixed a bright smile on her face, stepping gaily over to Aubrey and slipping her arm through his. She leant up to whisper in his ear—something real this time. “I’m sorry.”

He frowned down at her.

His wasn’t the only scrutiny she was attracting—the whole group, very much including her brother and best friend, were sneaking glances at the impromptu performance, even while being introduced.

So she leant closer, voice so soft her mouth brushed his ear. “I was judgy. And unfair. I’m sorry.”

His faint frown was questioning, his eyes—extremely close—were doubly so. He looked stern, and despite their proximity,entirely remote, as though he was a drawing on an old war poster: the textbook brave Captain in his uniform, perfect, handsome features, facing down death with nothing but noble determination. Not a flicker crossed his face. Then he laughed faintly, in the manner of a man accepting a grim fate, and said, “Couldn’t tear yourself away?”

She shook her head, starting to smile at the dry look he was giving her. They were still close together but talking in low voices now rather than whispering. Everyone was no doubt eavesdropping, even over the sound of her father describing the walk they were about to take.

“And miss theShow Off My Acres Tour?” she said.

He gave an ironic smile. “Well. I hope you brought gum.”

“Gum?”

“Nothing. Come on.”

The others were already heading for the path that led into the wood. Aubrey removed her hand from his arm, but clasped it in his instead, giving her ayou asked for itlook as they set off hand in hand.

His grip was warm and dry, and he held her securely enough that it didn’t seem worth the bother of pulling free. Besides, this was what she wanted—Aubrey speaking to her, tolerating her presence, even if he did seem to be meeting her game with a strange one of his own.

Gum?What was that about? Then she remembered: Aubrey sitting brooding in her room, whiskey-soaked and bleak, his deep voice low in the dark. She had looked up at the silhouette of his jaw, marvelling that a man like him could have ever loved like that. Now she looked up the path, where, ahead of them, Liv walked with Domnall and Amy, Hugo stuck listening to their father several paces further on.Thatmust be his game. Liv. He’d decided to play the jealousy card. She was happy to help him out while getting closer to her own goal.

“How’s it going then, with the ex?”

Aubrey flashed her a look, but they didn’t need to worry about being overheard. For some reason, they were walking slowly, Aubrey seeming content to amble, in no rush to catch up with the others who were now almost lost to sight around a curve of the path.

“Any closer to winning her back?” Evie prompted when Aubrey made no answer.

He gave her another frowning look. “I’m trying to get over her, not get her back.”

“Really?” She studied him in surprise, but his expression gave nothing away. “And how’s that going?”

“Ask me in another ten years.”

“Ah.”

They lapsed into silence again, footsteps muffled on the earthy path. The woods were quiet, the birds, quite wisely, having fled. She was painfully aware of his presence at her side, each step fractionally shifting the grip of their hands, palm against palm. His fingers were threaded through hers, hot and thick between the soft inner skin, fingertips lightly touching her knuckles. She darted a sideways look, noting his outfit for the first time. It was much the same as when he’d arrived yesterday. Not a suit for once, but a grey jumper of a light, soft material, and dark expensive jeans. The shoes, of course, were leather.

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