It’s a hot summer afternoon, but instead of glancing at the sky I keep my gaze trained on the ground. My ears are greeted with birdsong and the melodic sound of running water. Coarse stones crunch beneath my feet as we amble along a shingled path. The scent of pollen explodes into my senses as we pass a colourful array of flower beds.
“Do you like horses?” Lucian asks. He lifts my hand and points in the direction of a large courtyard, which I’m assuming is home to the stables.
“I guess.” I don’t tell him how I loved to ride as a girl. I figure the less he knows about me the better.
We walk in silence for a little while, reality hitting me with every step I take. I am in this situation for a month. I can spiral out of control and let my OCD demons take possession of me, or I can grab the bull by the horns and embrace everything. I mean, how many times in my life am I going to be staying in a multimillion-pound estate? Maybe Lucian was right, maybe I should look at this as a holiday and a break from reality.
Finally, I allow my gaze to wander up and am floored by what I see. Grass like a thick carpet stretches as far as the eye can see. A mass of trees and hills shape the horizon. Without a house or car in sight it is as though nothing else exists.
“This way,” Lucian says as he gently tugs my hand. We continue down another path, only this one is narrower. A long line of trees runs along each side. They are connected by their foliage, which gives the illusion that they are one. From the tree-lined path we pass an ornate fountain, its centrepiece a stone-carved gargoyle that spits water high into the air.
I imagine spending my days in the gardens, horseback riding or doing something as simple as picking flowers. I quickly surmise that staying here for a month won’t be so bad.
“I used to ride as a girl,” I admit, hoping Lucian will agree to show me the tack room where the riding equipment is kept. I can picture it now, horseback riding just as the sun begins to set. I almost feel the wind lapping against my face and imagine my hair as it is whipped back as we pick up speed.
“Excellent, we shall go horseback riding tomorrow.”
My vision of riding into the sunset starts to distort because I didn’t imagine there being two horses. I don’t have time to reply as Farrah and her bodyguard come into view. Her bodyguard is standing beneath the shade of a nearby tree, seemingly giving her space, yet close enough should she need him. Farrah is lying on a cream sofa, her black hair fanned over her back as she snaps selfies of herself on her phone.
I tense with each step I take, and the need to run away has me dragging my heels. It’s not that I don’t like Lucian’s sister, she seems pleasant, but what I don’t like is lying to people. The problem with lies is that they blur the lines between what is real and what isn’t. Lies are dangerous, and like a cancer they mutate and grow. The only way to not get found out is to tell more lies, thus creating a sticky web of deceit.
Lucian peers at me from over his shoulder, and I figure he can feel my uncertainty. He wraps his arms around me, and I stiffen as he pulls me into a hug. I rest my head against the soft fabric of his shirt and breathe him in. Damn, he smells good. The heady scent of his cologne, mixed with the subtle scent that is him, is all around me. His chest is firm and warm. I feel safe, safe in his arms and safe with him. He bows his head, and his lips find the shell of my ear. “Relax, I will do all the talking.”
He pulls away, and from the heat in his gaze I’m sure he’s about to kiss me. Maybe the thought flashes in his mind but, releasing me, he turns his attention to Farrah. “Where’s Malachi?”
Farrah spins around on the sofa and faces us. She has a pretty face—full lips, high cheekbones and Lucian’s green eyes. She is wearing a pair of jeans, fashionably ripped at the knee. The strap of her purple T-shirt slides down her arm as she shrugs. “I don’t know. He said he’d catch up with us.” With her gaze on me she taps the empty space to her right. I take a deep calming breath.
I’m Lucian Calloway’s fiancée. I’m Lucian Calloway’s fiancée,I tell myself over and over. Trying to exude confidence, I stand tall, flick my hair over my shoulder, and join her. I expect Lucian to be right behind me, but it doesn’t appear as though he’s moved a single inch.
He pushes his hands into the front pockets of his trousers and looks over his shoulder. I follow his gaze to the estate. It’s the first time I’ve seen the building from the outside, and I don’t know whether I’m looking at a house or a museum. The building is magnificent, three storeys high and made from traditional red bricks. The window frames are made from a dark wood, with far too many to count.
“Is he still inside?” Lucian finally asks. It’s as though he waited a moment for Malachi to appear.
Farrah shrugs. “I guess so.”
Lucian looks from me to the estate as though conflicted, but, sucking in a breath, he joins me on the sofa. This is it, the moment of truth. We will know after this conversation whether we can pull this charade off. Farrah is Lucian’s sister after all. Surely she’ll be able to see through his lies.
“Tell me everything, from the beginning,” Farrah says, her attention on me.
“We met—” Lucian begins.
“I was asking Chelsea!” Farrah chastises.
“It’s okay,” I say to Lucian. But I’m not okay. My breaths are coming fast and sharp. I meet Farrah’s gaze, and she looks about ready to burst. I hate lying, so I figure I’ll stick as close to the truth as I can. I tug at the ends of my hair. “We met a little over two years ago at my sister’s photo exhibition.”
Farrah clings on to my every word. “Was it love at first sight?”
“Definitely.” Lucian squeezes my fingers.
I force a smile. “Oh, your brother certainly made an impression.”
“Go on…”
“I fell in love with Chelsea through a photograph of her, called ‘Timeless Beauty’,” Lucian says. “She was the most exquisite creature I had ever laid eyes on, and I knew from that moment I had to make her mine.”
“It must have been one special photo. Can I see it sometime?” Farrah asks, her and Lucian’s attention on me.
I shrug, feeling on the spot all of a sudden. “I mean, you could. But I donated it to the farm where I work. My boss is selling it at the next farmers’ market.”