Page 62 of Wild About You

I narrowed my eyes comically at him. ‘Another one,’ I said.

‘No.’

‘Pleeeeease.’ I hazarded a look at his stern face.

‘You’ll need some in the morning,’ he said. ‘Haven’t you heard of delayed gratification?’ and there was a slight glitter in his eyes. Dear Lord, I wasblushing. I looked away.

‘Sorry,’ he said abruptly. ‘I shouldn’t flirt when you’re stuck here alone with me.’

‘Were you flirting? I didn’t notice.’

It was his turn to blush. ‘Thanks.’

I smiled, and nudged him in what I hoped was a blokey way. ‘Sorry. And thank you. You seem really comfortable here.’

He nodded. ‘I am. Like I said, I used to come here with my grandfather. And with friends from school and uni. I’ve got out of the habit of it recently. And my friends are all in London, making their way in the world.’

‘Bankers?’ I said, without thinking.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Some of them work in finance, yes. I envy them sometimes. No responsibilities, making their own money.’

I snorted. Perhaps the whisky was taking effect. ‘It’s overrated. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind having a ruined castle and a lovely manor house.’

He looked as though he wanted to say something, but didn’t. Instead he nursed his cup of whisky and water.

‘I’m sure it’s not easy, having all of this to take care of,’ I said half-heartedly.

‘I wouldn’t dare complain,’ he said, and I saw a touch of bitterness in the line of his mouth. ‘I know what people think. A lord in his manor house. Rich. No cares in the world. It’s not worth mentioning the leaky roof, the thousands we need to make every week just to keep the lights on.’

‘But you love it, right?’ I said. ‘It must be a labour of love.’

He thought about it; the slight frown on his face made my heart ache unexpectedly. ‘I suppose so,’ he said. ‘That is, I’ve been raised to love it. But I also try not to becomeobsessed with it. My grandfather was obsessed – so was my father. It came first, above everything and everyone. I don’t want to be like that.’ I sensed a deep darkness in those eyes, which he was keeping fixed on the fire.

‘It must be good to have those friends you talked about,’ I said. ‘They must understand.’

‘Yes. From my schooldays. An experience like that tends to bond you with some people and divide you permanently from others. Although I wonder sometimes…’ His voice trailed off.

‘What?’

‘I think boarding school does something to you. Takes some vital, feeling part of you. Replaces it with coldness. When you’re there, vulnerability equals death.’

‘Yeah, so this chat is taking a dark turn,’ I said. ‘And you made me carry an axe here, for God’s sake. Don’t give me cause to regret it.’

His smile was back. ‘You’ve mastered your own demise. Don’t worry. I’ve just had too much whisky.’

‘Me too! Perhaps some more chocolate?’

‘No way.’

‘Tyrant.’

‘That’s me.’

‘Anyhoo,’ I said breezily. ‘You’re one of the most eligible bachelors in England, aren’t you? That’s got to cheer you up.’

He gave me a chilly blast from those blue eyes. ‘It wasn’t exactly number one on my list of ambitions.’

‘Oh for goodness’ sake,’ I snipped. ‘Give me the chocolate.’

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