Page 46 of Oz
“So, this madwoman who looks like a sheep isn’t even his family?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. At least my family portraits are my own family.”
“I wouldn’t be too proud about that,” I say judiciously. “They all seem either congenitally depressed or like they’re on the brink of serial killer fame.”
He laughs and drags me into another room.
“I hate to say it, but it is a gorgeous house,” I say quietly as we linger by a display of armour.
He sniffs. “It’s okay, but it’s like a bloody film set.”
He carries on talking but I’m not listening anymore, struck dumb by a blinding idea.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks curiously. “You look in a daze.”
I shake my head. I’m not getting his hopes up so instead I look at the armour and read the label. “It says this was used by Lord Branton’s ancestor during the Battle of Bosworth.”
Instantly diverted, he looks at the battered armour. “I doubt he did much fighting. He probably wore it to bed if he was anything like his descendant,” he says sourly. “I’ve never met a lazier man.”
I snort with laughter. “Yes, if you look closer his visor is very shiny where it rubbed on the pillow.” I look at the note again. “I take it he was on the winning side?”
“He’d have been on the side that was in power when he got out of bed.”
I look around. “It’s so well organised. And he must be raking it in. There were at least four groups waiting to be shown around and it’s only ten o’clock. If each of them pays a tenner he’ll have made four grand before lunch.”
He looks around. “I’m not keen. I don’t like the way the guides are wearing invisible jack boots. That woman almost had you shot at dawn in the Queen’s Room.”
I think of our guide who had reacted violently when I touched a curtain to marvel at the needlework.
“I thought she was going to rip my bloody hand off,” I sniff. “And holding the sign up that said ‘do not touch’ and making me read it was overkill.” He laughs and I look at him. “I don’t think we want anyone like that, do you?”
He shakes his head. “Fuck, no. Have you ever been to Salisbury Cathedral?”
I blink at the change of subject but nod. “Yes, why?”
He shrugs, looking a bit awkward. “I just thought it was lovely in there. There’s such a feeling of ownership and pride in the people that show you around there that makes it feel accessible and welcoming.”
I nod slowly. “You’re right.” He smiles, and I carry on. “I hadn’t thought of it like that apart from remembering it as a lovely place, but I think you’re onto something. It’s because everyone is so warm and interested.” I think hard. “How about going to the next parish council meeting and the diocese meeting? See if there are any local older people around who worked in the house in the golden days before the war. They’d make fantastic guides. We could also look at staging a fewplays in the grounds during the summer to celebrate that actor-obsessed ancestor of yours. Let everyone bring a picnic and sit on the grass. It would be amazing.”
He grins at me. “You’re so brilliant,” he says softly.
I flush. “In the spirit of honesty, I have to tell you that I’m really not.”
He looks around quickly and comes to stand in front of me. He raises his hands and cups his palms around my cheekbones. “You’re brilliant and sharp and fierce,” he says quietly. “And you fascinate me, Oz.”
I stand caught by his eyes that are a clear green gold in this light. I open my mouth to say something flip, but something real and raw in his face and voice stays me and instead I cover his hands with my own. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods and, lowering his head, he takes my lips in a soft kiss. Our lips rest against each other gently before his tongue slips into my mouth and I melt against him.
Goodness knows what we’d have done then, but we’re saved from having possible intercourse in front of a suit of armour by an incredulous voice.
“Silas?”
Silas stiffens and turns around, and I can almost taste his next word on the air before he says it. “David.”
Chapter
Nine
