“Then why aren’t you breakfasting with your girl?” Ethan asked, half winking at me.
By this stage, I wanted to sneak off.
“She’s not my girl. She knows that, and so should you. She stayed in the guest room.”
Declan’s tanned features seemed flushed. I sensed that he wanted to talk to me, which bamboozled me.
And while he was so handsome my body was doing things I’d never experienced before—butterflies, heart racing, and all kinds of weird, visceral gurgling—I was also terrified. After everything I’d been through, men frightened me.
I needed some space, if only just to breathe again.
“My apologies,” I said. “I’ve just realised, I need to call a friend urgently.”
Before they could say anything, I jumped on the bike and after an embarrassing wobbly start, off I went down that long driveway past the labyrinth, with the sea air smacking my face and my hair flying in the wind.
I’d looked forward to going to the village, but I didn’t want to complicate things by hanging out with playboy Ethan, who would have probably unclasped my bra before lunch in his racy sportscar. The thought of which made my legs stiffen.
Whereas the thought of Declan fondling my breasts made my vagina ache.
Regardless of how he’d awakened desire in me, I wasn’t that deluded to lose my head over a man that could make women swoon with just a gaze from those ocean-coloured eyes.
Inner chatter rattled along with me as I rode out of the lace iron gates.
To think Declan thought I was a working girl. That bothered me.
What a relief I cleared that up, but it still made me nauseous to think he carried that idea of me all night. No wonder he kept staring at me. He was probably wondering what a former prostitute was doing working as a maid.
Grr… What a hideously appalling thought.
As it turned out, the ride down to the village cleared my head. I loved soaking in the avenues of wispy trees, and the trickling brook with ducks splashing about brought a smile. It was like I’d woken in a parallel universe where only fertile nature existed. After the polluted city, the air was like baby’s breath.
Pedalling slowly, I drifted along, letting go of everything. I hummed Clair de Lune, a tune I used to play on piano, as I rode past thatch-roofed cottages with brightly painted doors and flowers of every colour crowding their entrance.
As I rode into the shopping area, the chilled, postcard-like village reminded me of something from the travel shows I occasionally watched while scoffing down crisps, imagining myself being a cheery, carefree tourist.
No one seemed in a hurry. Friendly smiles everywhere. Not like the city, where everyone looked stressed. The air was thick with salt and rotting fish. Pleasant though. Anything beat the heavy smog of London.
I found a nice spot with a view of the pier, from where I watched fisherman bringing in their catch and tourists taking photos. Allowing myself to indulge in a heap of calories, after having ridden there, I ordered chocolate cake with my coffee.
After soaking in the village atmosphere, I rode back and being a warm, sunny day, I decided on a visit to the bay, which was only a short walk from the house, or the hall, as everyone called it.
I tossed on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and replaced my trainers with flip-flops and off I went. That earlier interaction with the brothers entered my thoughts, and as I walked along, I called Lucy.
“Hey,” she said. “How’s living in the lap of luxury?”
“It’s nice. I mean my room’s pretty basic, but I’m there alone. I have a TV and everything I need. They feed me. It’s the job from heaven, and the work’s not as back-breaking as the hotel.”
“That sounds amazing. So why do I sense something in your voice?”
I smiled. Lucy could read me well. Even over the phone.
I recounted what happened with the brothers and that Declan was the mystery man who’d rescued me.
“Shit. Really? How the hell did you not remember him?”
“Good fucking question.” I sighed. “His cologne registered though. Soon as I smelt it, all kinds of strange feelings took over. You know, like when you smell something that brings on nostalgia.”
“Oh yeah. Every time I catch a whiff of Homme, my panties melt.”