Page 7 of Savage Blooms
“Isla.”
The lord looked to her hired help with fire burning in her eyes. Then, she wrenched her wrist free.
This broke the strange, tense spell. The groundskeeper stalked off after Adam and Nicola, leaving the lord alone in her library.
“This way,” Finley said, voice a little rough.
Adam and Nicola dutifully followed him up a flight of mahogany stairs and down a twisting series of corridors that Adam probably couldn’t find his way along with a map and the light of day on his side.
“That’ll be Nicola’s room,” Finley said, stopping short in a carpeted hallway and pointing out a bedroom. “Adam, your room will be right at the end of the hall. I figured after roughing it on the road you two might like your own space.”
Adam wanted to argue. He and Nicola always slept inmixed-gender hostel rooms when they traveled, but that wasn’t quite the same thing as sharing a private room, and certainly not a private bed. He wasn’t sure how to complain about being separated from Nicola directly, so instead he said, “Can we have a few minutes to chat and get our bearings? Happy to be shown to my room after that.”
“Sure,” Finley said, unbothered. “See you downstairs when you’re ready.”
With that, he was gone, and Adam followed Nicola into her room.
The guest bedroom was small but cozy, featuring a four-poster bed decorated with carved roses, and a small fireplace in the corner. The wallpaper was covered in delicate green vines and tiny pink flowers, giving the room the air of a country garden.
“Can you believe this?” Nicola asked, in the same tone of voice she used to gossip about who was sleeping with who on the intramural volleyball team. “God, this house! It’s got to be what, eighteen fifties? Built on older foundations, I bet. And did you see how many books were in that library?”
“It’s gorgeous,” Adam conceded. “But I don’t love being stuck here.”
“You don’t love being stuck anywhere,” Nicola said, tossing herself down on the bed. “But it’s only for the night.”
“I just wasn’t expecting any of this, and we’re prettyisolated out here. I don’t even think I have cell service. I can’t help feeling like we’re putting Eileen out.”
“She’s just a lonely eccentric with too much time on her hands, and we’re free in-house entertainment. She said it herself: there’s no one out here but her and Finley. NowhimI like.”
“I don’t trust your judgment when it comes to the people you like, no offense.”
“Am I not allowed to like people now?”
“Of course you are,” Adam said, covering for himself quickly. He had no right to be jealous over Nicola. At the end of the day, she wasn’t his. He had made sure of that, time and time again. It was easier that way. Less painful. “I’m just saying, make sure the guy isn’t going to go all Ted Bundy on you before you jump his bones.”
“You let me have my harmless groundskeeper fantasy and I’ll let you keep looking at the hot aristocrat like you want her to step on you with her riding boots,” Nicola shot back with a grin.
“I donotwant her to step on me,” Adam said, bristling. The kick of his pulse at the mention of Eileen told a different story. “And did you hear the way they talked? So weird. Every other sentence is like something out of a storybook, like they actually haven’t spoken to modern people in ages. She’s worse than he is, but still. Let’s just play it safe out here, okay? If you get any weird vibes, come find me.”
“Obviously,” Nicola said with a sigh. “But this is what you wanted, isn’t it? Answers with a side of adventure?”
“I guess so,” Adam said, trying not to smile. He knew he should be more wary about this (stranger danger and all) but it was hard not to feel like the universe’s favorite son right now. It was so tempting to give in to the sense of fatedness that had wrapped around him the moment he laid eyes on the house.
“This might be it, Adam,” Nicola said, sobering slightly. She knew better than anyone what this trip meant to him. After all, she had been the one who picked up the phone early that Sunday morning his grandfather died. “I want this to be it, for you.”
“Thanks, Nikki. At any rate, we should get back down there before they start thinking we’re up here stealing their silver or whatever.” He turned to go, pausing at the doorway. Sincerity was sometimes hard for him, certainly harder than laughter and a good time, but somehow he managed it. “I’m happy it’s you with me out here. Seriously.”
“It’s true, I’m pretty great,” Nicola said, smoothing her sweater like a proud peacock as she strode past him into the hallway. “Now come on. I want more tea.”
CHAPTER THREE
Nicola
By the time Adam and Nicola had retrieved their bags from the car and changed into clothes that weren’t rumply and musty from the road, it was past five, and Nicola’s stomach was grumbling. The granola bar she had put away at the hostel that morning was gone, and so were the scones from tea, so Finley heated up that venison pie after all. It tasted rich and dark and perfectly gamey, with a pastry crust so flaky Nicola wanted to paint it and capture its beauty. When Finley passed her a plate in the library where they had all agreed to take dinner informally, his warm thumb brushed the delicate skin of her inner wrist.
Nicola expected Adam and Eileen to lose themselves in theorizing about their intersecting family histories over dinner, but Eileen didn’t seem in any rush to get down to business. She made casual conversation instead, absolutelydelighted with every new detail about Adam’s graphic design business and running club, or about Nicola’s work as a florist’s assistant who spent her nights writing yet-to-be-published fantasy books for children. Eileen didn’t even eat that much, just sipped a fresh glass of whisky while she listened, rapt, to the mundane details of Nicola and Adam’s lives.
Finley had taken his dinner with them, but stood by the sideboard while he ate, as though allergic to getting too comfortable. He kept finding excuses to linger, polishing the grandfather clock or clearing dishes, and he didn’t say much, but he certainly listened. Nicola caught his eyes on her more than once, and she caught herself admiring the outline of his strong forearms and the painfully romantic curls of his hair more than that.
