Page 52 of King of Lies
“I take it you’re not a fan?” he asks me, and I just clench my jaw tight and shake my head no.
We eat in silence, Rhys passing bites of things he thinks I should try, probably because my plate only holds a little scone and jam. He cleans his plate and then some before wiping his mouth with his napkin. He sets it aside before he pushing his chair back and standing. I watch him walk into my bedroom while I finish sipping on my coffee.
He comes out moments later with his shirt in his hand, places a hard kiss on my mouth and says, “I left clothes on the bed, Hen. Be ready to go in thirty minutes.”
“Okay.” I blink and then he’s gone. Feeling a little nervous about what the day might mean and what information I can glean about it based on what clothes he’s laid out for me. I set my cup down and push my chair back from the table and make my way into the bedroom.
On the bed, Rhys laid out jeans, a heavy knit sweater in a pretty mauve with a white, long sleeve tee to go underneath it, and a green field jacket which cinches at the waist. Left on top were a pair of thick, wool socks and a chunky infinity scarf in the same neutral white as the tee. On the floor by the bed are a beautiful pair of tall leather boots in a deep caramel color. The outfit is casual and beautiful and very me. But also nothing like the designer gear I’ve been wearing while accompanying him since we’ve been here.
Maybe he’s sending me home …
I decide to push all thoughts from my head. I head to the bathroom and take a quick shower. Rhys said I didn’t have much time. I rush as I wash up and then dry my hair before pulling on a matching set of bra and panties and a white camisole because that tee looks sheer. And then the jeans and tee. I quickly do a soft amount of makeup in pinks and taupes because I would not want my bare haggard face to be in every supermarket checkout if he’s hit with a visit from the paparazzi again.
I sit on the edge of the bed and pull on the wool socks and boots before grabbing my lip gloss and tossing it into my purse. Just as I’m grabbing my bag, I see where I left my gold heart necklace and earrings and quickly put them on. They look tiny and understated and go with my casual outfit in a way that the emerald engagement ring does not. But still, I keep it on my finger where Rhys has placed it twice now. I’d hate to see his reaction if he has to put it back a third time.
The door opens and I turn to see who it is. I shouldn’t be surprised that it is Rhys—he did say that he would be back in half an hour. But what does surprise me is he’s dressed casually as well in well-worn jeans, a long sleeve, light blue Henley shirt under a half zip sweater in navy. His feet are in well used walking boots and a brown leather belt is wrapped through the loops of his jeans around his narrow hips. He has a similar anorak over it all, unzipped.
“Are we going on safari?” I ask and he laughs.
“No, Hen.” He grabs my jacket from the bed and holds it out for me to slide my arms in. “We’d wear far less clothing in Africa.”
“Well then where are we going?”
“To explore the village.”
“There’s a village?” I ask and he smiles at me.
“Did you think the castle was isolated on the cliffs with nothing around it?”
“Maybe …”
“Well, you’ll be happy to know that there’s a lovely seaside village not too far away,” he says. “There’s even a bookshop.”
“Really?” I breathe and he smiles warmly at me. This one is so much different.
“I give her priceless heirlooms and she panics and tries to run away,” he says to himself. “I offer to buy her books and she acts like I hung the moon.”
“Well, obviously,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders, even though he wasn’t actually talking to me. “Books are life.”
“Then let’s go get you books, Hen,” he says softly, before leading me out the door.
Leo is waiting for us in the hall. He follows behind, always alert, as we head for the door. Outside, the driver is waiting with the car and he opens the door for us as we approach. I slide in first with Rhys behind me. Leo closes the door before climbing into the front passenger seat.
They don’t speak and Rhys doesn’t give them instructions. It would appear that I am the last to know about our excursion to the village and I can’t be bothered to care because I feel like I can finally take a deep breath as we pass through the heavy stone and iron gate, leaving behind, for the first time, the queen and the rest of her entourage.
Although I do adore Dahlia, I’m not sure how I feel about Taylor. And the rest are positively awful. If Rhys didn’t keep convincing me to stay, I would hop on the first flight back to the states and never look back.
I watch out the windows as we drive down the hill. In the daylight, I can see that the castle sits high on the cliffs above the sea. It takes a narrow, winding road to get back down to the coast.
The village is a small seaside town with a dock full of fishing boats and a main road full of shops and a lovely tavern. From the cliffs of the castle you can see the homes and farms that dot the planes of green all around on three sides, the fourth obviously being the sea.
The driver parks the car and we climb out. Rhys takes my hand as we walk down the cobblestone street and look in all the shop windows. Everyone Rhys comes in contact with in the village knows him, and he greets them all warmly. This feels like a happy little bubble where we’re free to be normal people.
He pulls open the door of the bookstore and leads me in. It’s dark and musty and I love it instantly. I want to pull all the books from the shelves and hoard them like a hobbit. I want to slide on the rolling ladder like Belle in Beauty and the Beast and live amongst the make-believe stories, never to come out again.
“This is amazing!”
“I’m glad you like it, Hen,” he says softly.
