Page 105 of Beyond Her Manner
The effects of a week shared with Viola lingered in her mind, causing its own distractions. It wasn’t just the dazzling whirlwind of London — the museums, the art galleries, or the extravagant shopping sprees. Nor was it the evenings spent dining at Michelin-starred restaurants, laughing over exquisite food and wine. It was what had come in the quiet moments: how they searched for each other’s hand, gripping the other’swhen they walked, or the way Viola would rest her head against Gillian’s shoulder in the back of the taxi after a long day of sightseeing. Those moments left their mark far deeper than the distractions of the city.
It was liberating to get away and be in a different environment with Viola. On the few occasions she returned from America between concerts, Gillian had met her in the city, keeping her away from Kingsford and the surprise she was planning.
A week had passed since she reluctantly left Viola’s penthouse — and, more regrettably, her bedroom — to give her space to prepare for her imminent tour. In the meantime, she returned to Kingsford to finalise arrangements for Viola’s party. Although Bridget offered to handle everything, Gillian had immersed herself in the planning and preparation. This was to be her last event for some time, and with it being such a special occasion, she felt compelled to oversee every detail herself.
The familiar vibration she’d grown fond of filled the air around her. A glance out of the window confirmed it as the silhouette of a helicopter gleamed in the afternoon sun — Viola was on her way.
Gillian’s heart rate, already elevated from nerves all day, quickened to a nearly panicked pace. Viola’s arrival was more than a reunion; it was the moment for everyone to understand exactly what she meant to her.
Gillian’s stomach tightened at the thought. For years, she had buried parts of herself beneath layers of propriety and grief. The village could be warm and welcoming, yes, but it also thrived on gossip. She could imagine the whispers that would ripple through the room at her declaration.
Despite the fear, a thrill was simmering beneath it, something akin to exhilaration. For the first time in years, Gillian was ready to show the world who she truly was. Itwas Viola who had made it possible. With her unapologetic confidence and quiet strength, she had swept into her life like a force of nature, peeling back the layers she carefully constructed.
Viola made her question everything she thought she knew about herself, her place in the world, and the limits she’d once accepted. If anyone could make her believe this leap of faith was worth the risk, it was Viola. She felt a pang of shame as she recalled pushing Viola away, letting fear dictate her actions and forcing parts of herself to remain hidden in the shadows.
With another glance out of the window, she could see Viola stepping from the helicopter. Gillian almost ran through to the back hall to greet her, though she quickly stopped by the mirror to check her appearance. Taking a deep breath, Gillian smoothed her floral dress and straightened her shoulders.
She smiled to herself, proud to have found the courage to swallow her pride, voice her true feelings, and ask Viola for the support she needed. That pride swelled even further as Viola entered the hall, setting her bag down and closing the door behind her. She was here — she was hers.
They met halfway, their movements urgent and unspoken. Desperate lips found each other in a passionate embrace; the intensity of Viola’s made Gillian’s head spin with giddy delight.
“How are you?” Viola murmured.
“Nervous,” Gillian admitted.
“Let me stem those nerves for you.”
Her warm lips brushed against Gillian’s neck, sending a shiver rippling through her body, leaving her knees weak. It soothed the whirlwind of thoughts going through her mind.
“Gillian, Vio—” A voice interrupted them, and both women turned toward the doorway. Bridget’s head popped around the edge of the doorframe, her face alight with mischief. “Oh, you found her!” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “Don’t mind me. You lovebirds carry on.”
“Lovebirds?” Gillian croaked, her cheeks flaming as Bridget retreated into the hall.
“What’s wrong with lovebirds?” Viola teased.
“Makes us sound like a couple of teenagers.”
Gillian’s breath hitched as Viola stepped closer, pushing her against the wall and grasping her breast as she nuzzled at her neck.
“Would teenagers do that?” Viola asked, her voice low and sultry.
Gillian’s cheeks flushed. “Yes.”
“And this?” Viola asked, sliding her knee between Gillian’s legs, sending a jolt of heat searing through her.
“I should hope not, but I expect so, yes.”
“And this?” Viola’s hand ruffled Gillian’s dress, her fingers grazing the skin of her thigh underneath it.
Despite the growing intensity of her desire, Gillian playfully pushed Viola back. “Not here. Can’t you wait?”
“No, I can’t. I need you now.”
“Our guests are arriving.”
“Let them. I’m taking what I can get whilst I’ve got you.”
Gillian arched an eyebrow, her tone challenging, even as a smile tugged at her lips betraying her amusement. “Taking? Are you indeed?”
