29
If she pinched herself it would hurt. But looking at Marcus would make it better. This wasn’t a dream.
Lana sat back and relaxed in the sleek upholstered bucket seat of his sporty car.
She gazed out the window, watching the world go by as the car picked up speed.
“Lisburn? Why are we heading away from the city?” she asked, noting the huge green highway sign at the side of the road.
“My home is in Fermanagh. I’m taking you there for the weekend.”
“The weekend?” The plan was a one night stand, so she could run off without any awkward after chat.
“Did you have other plans?”
“No.” Now she could chase the fantasy of having a man like Marcus for a bit longer. The idea had merits and warnings.
Monday would arrive soon enough. Carpe the fucking Diem. Her life needed an injection of fun, temporary escapism from the stress, hurt and drama that she found herself in after the split from Rory.
The night she met Marcus was the first time, ever, when she truly felt alive, when her heart began to beat a fierce rhythm that mimicked his. Admitting those feelings scared the hell out of her but being beside him now, gave her a contentment that had long been missing.
Nothing would hold her back from going all the way with him tonight. The smooth ride and comfy leather seat lulled her lashes to flutter uncontrollably, her eyelids drooped and she drifted asleep.
Musical beats vanished into silence. A hand rested on her thigh, instantly alerting her to waken. With a jolt, her eyes sprung open to see Marcus’s incredibly handsome face with a hint of a smile on his kissable lips.
“We’re here, beautiful.”
Marcus’s home was set amidst sprawling green fields, sheltered by thick spruce on both sides. An elegant hedge of silver birch lined the long driveway, leading to a modest two-storey Georgian cottage, perfectly symmetrical on either side of the white door which was framed between panes of glass.
Sash windows dotted the soft grey stone façade, reflecting wispy clouds in the blue sky. It was both charming and unexpected.
Not a home she would associate with a multi-millionaire playboy. It was idyllic and peaceful.
The car was parked up on the gravel drive in front of the house, where dappled sunlight enhanced the vast expansive countryside, swelling her heart with a deep emotion of freedom.
It was utterly breath-taking, and she wondered how magical it would be during a flurry of thick, fluffy white snow.
Tiny cream pebbles crunched under foot as Lana followed behind him to the door and into the wide hallway. The large slab floors were worn with time, earthy and dark in contrast to the freshly painted sage walls and ashen cornicing.
All the doors leading off the space were closed. Her feet itched to investigate.
“It used to be the coach house. It dates back to the 1800s. The stables and courtyard are what really sold it to me, although I’ve done work to it, extending considerably out the back.”
He sauntered ahead, opening a door and beckoning for her to join him. “This used to be the kitchen, and then I added on the rest.”
An enormous garden room with exposed natural stone walls hugged sage green picture window frames. They seamlessly exhibited the view beyond of Lough Erne, nestled in lush greenery.
Shards of light streamed in through the glass lantern high above her head, warming the scent of each sweet Jasmine that blossomed in the heat of the sun-drenched room.
Along the wall to her right, a long sofa swayed from ropes, smothered in silk cushions, facing the serene natural setting. To her left, handcrafted kitchen units swept around the expansive corner, surrounding an enormous island with a natural wooden countertop.
Bronze pendants dropped from the ceiling, reflecting fragments of copper light on the surfaces. It was simplistic, but every detail methodically executed with no expense spared.
She examined every little detail. “This room is stunning, Marcus.”
Strolling to the corner of the room, he crouched down and tossed a log into a wood-burning stove. Lana ambled over to his side.
“Can I help you?”