It turned into an impromptu musical, with regulars and even some game tourists joining in, filling The Fort with off-pitch harmonies and carousing versions of songs from Phantom and West Side Story, and memorably, The Lion King.
Daniel laughed and tapped his hands on the bar, but didn’t sing. He caught her once, as she spun between tall tables singing “A Lovely Night” from Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella. His hands gripped her ribs and he kissed her, more than a sweet public snog, and she melted against his chest.
The story spread fast enough Elspeth’s mum appeared in The Fort, which she’d avoided whenever possible since her husband died. Mum made a beeline for the American, and by the time she departed they were fast friends. Daniel even charmed her out of the story behind Elspeth’s name, and crowed with delight to discover she was named after a princess in an old fantasy novel. There wasn’t a single drop of sadness in his eyes.
For dinner he took her forty minutes away to Tyddyn Llan restaurant and inn for a real date, and she drank a cocktail made by a stranger with fancy botanical gin, wearing high heels and a strappy dress it was really too cold for. And Daniel looked at her once or twice like he was thinking of staying longer than the end of the week. The look burned her, so hot she struggled not to squirm in her dainty chair, and all she did was reach for his hand and bring it to her mouth to kiss the pad of his finger.
They made love languidly back home on the first floor of The Fort, and when Elspeth was filled up with him, she blinked away tears before he could see—she was so happy, and ready for more.
To recover, Elspeth blindfolded him with his tie and stood over him with shaking knees, telling him what she wanted him to do to himself while she watched.
After, Daniel hugged her, rubbing his hand along her arm, and she brought up her knee, wrapping her leg around him.
“You’re so tense, beautiful,” he said.
“What happens after London?” she asked casually, trying to sound like she didn’t care very much.
For several long breaths he didn’t answer, his chest lifting up and down slowly. She flattened her hand on his sternum, over his diaphragm, and considered teaching him to breathe like a singer.
She blinked, her lashes brushing his clavicle. He kissed her hair.
Then he said, “I don’t know.”
It was a quiet confession, filled with layers of meaning she thought she could read: he wanted more than he thought he could give.
Elspeth rolled on top of him. The lights were out, and only pale moonlight slid through the windows. In the dark his handsome jaw begged to be kissed. His lips parted with secrets. And he stared up at her openly, not hiding the admiration in his gaze, or the sorrow, or the hunger. He touched her hips, her breasts, her cheeks, and drew her face down to his.
“I want you, Elspeth,” he whispered against her lips.
She laughed; she couldn’t help it. Hearing him say so made her want to keep laughing, to squeal, even. To sing a silly song. Like something from Disney.
“Elspeth,” he said, a little chiding that she’d laughed at him, but his lips drew out into a smile, too. In the dark, he was the devil again, dangerous but oh-so good.
“I want you, too,” she said merrily.
Sitting, he caught her as she fell back, and she wrapped around him again. She was so naked and sticky, she should have felt awkward, but didn’t.
“No matter what, I’ll still want you after London,” he whispered against her lips.
“Me too,” she said.
“Promise,” he said, but didn’t give her a chance to reply, otherwise occupying her lips and tongue and voice.
Chapter Fifteen
Thursday morning, Elspeth jogged alongside Daniel, up the winding road to the burial mound. Overcast skies fought a battle with the sun to drag out the dawn, so they ran through dim gray, and the chilly wind was damp. She’d given in to autumn and put on yoga pants and a thin fleece, and sadly acknowledged to herself when her heart lit up at the sight of Daniel in his sweats hanging off those lanky hips, that it was too damned cold for any funny business. Too bad, because she felt so good in her body. She felt light, strong, ready.
She felt like tomorrow wasn’t the end for them.
They had today, then tomorrow they headed to London for her meeting with Pella—if she was going to sell. Which she thought she would. She was almost certain. And it wouldn’t be an end for The Fort, either.
Nothing had to end that she didn’t want to end.
No matter what, Daniel had said. No matter if he was in America or London or Caerafon. No matter distance or The Fort, no matter if she went back to school or stayed here to create some kind of real job involved in sustainability. There were so many possibilities.
She could do anything. Elspeth stopped, a-flutter to the point of near panic.
“Daniel.”
He ran a few more steps before slowly turning, jogging backwards, his brows raised playfully. “What’s wrong? Surely not tired! Something cutting into your sleep?”
Elspeth smiled. “You know it is, Yank.”
Tilting his head charmingly, he jogged in place.
Her pulse raced; she felt it in her ears and palms, and fluttering in her chest. “What should I do? Should I stay? Run The Fort? Or sell it? Tell me.”
Daniel stopped moving, staring at her with a frown.
“You’ve never said what you think I should do,” she pressed.
“I can’t tell you what to do with The Fort.”
“But you’re not a villager, you haven’t been attached to The Fort your whole life. You’re not even Welsh!” She threw up her hands. “You’re objective. Lend me that objectivity.”
For a second, he still did not move. Then his entire demeanor snapped harder. In a wave of predatory grace, he stalked to her and took her face in his hands. “I am not objective. Not when it comes to you, Elspeth Gwenlan.” His voice was rough—too rough. “Not at all. Not remotely.”
Shaken at the sudden emotion on display, she only whispered, “Oh.”
“Oh,” he said, and kissed her so deeply he seemed to find places inside her she’d never noticed before.
The kiss was hot, his mouth was hot, but damp air clung to them, and she shivered. She wanted to tell him she loved him, she didn’t want this to be over—and why should it be? She could do anything she liked.
Elspeth broke away, staring at him breathlessly.
She knew. She knew what to do. Sell. Her dad would have wanted her to. Because—because he’d given her music, he’d sent her to school. He’d never once said anything to make her think he expected her to come home for The Fort. The pub was never meant to be a weight around her neck. Not when he’d been alive, and he’d never do that to her just because he died.
Daniel stroked her cheeks, staring into her eyes, his brow forming lines of worry. “Elspeth?” he murmured.
She couldn’t close her mouth, but only gape breathlessly at her simple, obvious revelation.
“Elspeth,” he repeated. “What happened?”
“I’m well, I’m . . . well.” Leaning against him, she took the comfort of his embrace, and whispered, “I’m selling. That’s it, that’s the choice.”
His body seemed to shudder as he held her, and he nodded. “Good. I . . . if that is what you want.”
“It is.”
“Good.” This time it was a firm word, and Daniel said, “I want to take you to London. Today. Put you up somewhere nice. Have the whole weekend to celebrate.”
Elspeth felt like she might lift off the ground, float up the mountain. She nodded, joy and the rightness of the choice buoying her. A laugh found its way out of her mouth. She grasped his face, pecked his lips with hers, and pushed away. Spinning, she flung up her arms to wave as she ran back down the road, toward town. “I’ll start making arrangements,” she cried. “I’ll need a few hours, but lunchtime? I’ll see you then!”
She laughed again at his stunned expression, but turned away, brea
thless and ecstatic.
When she burst into her mum’s cottage fifteen minutes later, she was flushed and too thrilled to do anything but call, “Mum! Where are you!” as she dashed into the kitchen.
Her mum was there, with Agatha, despite the breakfast hour.
Both women looked glum, stunned, and were huddled around Mum’s laptop.
A snake of premonition slithered into Elspeth’s stomach.
“Mum?” she whispered, crashing.
With a pretty frown, and such grave concern in her bright green eyes, her mum said, “Did you know Daniel’s family is on the board of Pella?”
Chapter Sixteen
Nerves had never plagued Daniel as badly as they were as he waited for Elspeth to come outside. He was going to drive her to London, put her in a fancy room, and then tell her everything.
It wasn’t even that much to tell, really. He’d been careful not to influence her thinking, he’d been himself. So much himself he realized he’d been acting like a stranger for years.
He loved her.
He’d known her a week, and he loved her.
It hurt his chest to think about.
Leaning on the door of his bright yellow rental, Daniel pulled out Alvin’s lighter, rubbing it with his thumb.
Elspeth would arrive, he’d get her and her things into the car, then for the entire drive ask her about her future. Help her spin out whatever dreams she wanted for the next week, month, year, decade. And after they arrived at her hotel, he’d have a bottle of wine sent up, and he’d sit her down and tell her why he’d really come to Caerafon, and why he’d changed his plans, why he’d kept it from her.
It would be fine. She’d be angry, definitely, hurt maybe. But she’d forgive him. She had to. Maybe it was a good thing, even, because they’d found each other, and it hadn’t changed her decision.
“Right?” he muttered to the lighter. Then he shoved it back in the pocket of his slacks.
Come on, Elspeth, he thought, looking down the short bricked path to the cottage front door. Mere hours had passed since she’d run joyfully down the mountain away from him, leaving him bereft and half hard.
Nothing seemed to be happening in the cottage. The frilled curtains on the small square windows to either side of the front door were still; he heard no muffled music or anything but the bustle of the village up the road.
He wanted to see her bedroom. It had been hers all her life, but for those few years at university, and Daniel wanted to see the inevitable fine art prints and framed posters from the London Coliseum. He wanted to know what she kept in her underwear drawer and the brand of toothpaste she used.
Just as he pushed off the car, the front door opened.
Daniel’s relieved smile froze at the sight of her.
Elspeth remained in her yoga pants, and a baggy sweater fell off one shoulder. She had on wooly socks, no shoes, and her hair was loose and kinked from braids. But none of that would have mattered except for how pale she was. Drawn, was the word.
“Elspeth?” he said, striding for her. Something was wrong. Something had happened.
“Stop.” Her voice cut harshly, and she thrust out a hand, fingers splayed.
He stopped.
“Go to London without me.” She closed her eyes, but the words couldn’t possible have hurt her as badly as they did him. “I knew you were a wolf the moment I saw you. I knew.”
The breath blew out of him. He said, “Elspeth.”
“Mum will drive me tomorrow. I don’t want to see you there, at the meeting. I can’t watch you . . . gloat.” With that, she finally looked at his eyes.
Her anger hit him like a swift concussion wave. Faltering back, Daniel involuntarily lifted his hands for his helmet and—he stopped. She knew. It didn’t matter how she’d found out. Daniel stared at her, not knowing what the fuck he could possibly do to defend himself.
“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely.
“No, you’re not. You got everything you wanted, plus some—some . . .” the rest of her sentence shuddered out as a terrible sigh. “I can’t look at you much longer,” she whispered. “Don’t make me.”
“Elspet . . .”
“No, Mr. Kelly. Get out of my village. Go back and tell them I’ll be in tomorrow to sign over the fucking pub. You win.”
“This isn’t what I wanted,” he tried again.
“I don’t care.” Elspeth spun and marched back to her house, and there in the door was both Mrs. Gwenlan and a disgusted-looking Agatha.
Daniel met the sharp old eyes of his hostess, but she shook her head, wrinkled lips pressed so firmly they were near invisible.
The two women parted to let Elspeth past them.
Then they closed the door.
Daniel turned and put both hands on the roof of his rental, leaning in, and let his head hang. He felt gutted. Ruined.
This time, he had no insurgents or missiles to blame for his ruin. No orders or brave idiot friends. Not even alcohol. Just himself.
His jaw clenched, he bent his arms like he’d do a pushup against the car, mind burning, scars pulling, all of him a sudden cold typhoon of grief and guilt and anger.
He took deep breaths, slow and steady—at least he could get his heart rate under better control. No panic now. No outburst. Just breathe, he told himself.
It worked, marginally. The ringing in his ears faded a bit, and when he opened his eyes the light wasn’t so bright it hurt.
Daniel jerked open the car door, slid inside, and did exactly what Elspeth had commanded.
Chapter Seventeen
The hotel room was silent.
Pristine white walls and gilded moulding, with heavy curtains striped gold and mint-green pulled back over floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Thames itself and half of London. The massive bed was more than enough for Elspeth and her mother, but Mum would be staying, she hoped, with Kam tonight, after the party they’d agreed to attend. As special guests of Pella Group.
God, Elspeth had liked to say no, but Mr. Harcourt from Pella insisted, eager to keep proving how ready they were to be good, and Mum had thought it would be fun. Good for Elspeth to dress up, drink champagne at the British Museum, and remember what society could feel like. So they’d gone from the meeting where Elspeth and her mum signed their names at least twenty-seven times, to a luxury department store for clothes and shoes, lunch with Kam, and now here Elspeth perched on the overlarge bed in a hotel room the likes of which she might never experience again.
Alone.
In silence.
Her phone sat face down on the quilt. She had so much music loaded, and a speaker leaned unobtrusively beside a potted orchid. With Bluetooth. She could fill the opulent room with opera, or haunting instrumental, or even just a comforting old ballad. Anything.
But Elspeth chose silence, because even her favorite song in the world was broken now. She couldn’t guess how long before she’d be able to even think of listening to it again, much less singing.
The things she’d let herself do this past week forced her eyes closed. She’d gone on dates and climbed castles. She’d desecrated the burial grounds more than once. She’d let him eat her out on the bar of her family business! She’d let herself be wildly in love. She’d been bold. Demanding. Hungry. The words she’d said, the things she’d asked for, had been so good. Deeply good.
Elspeth felt her face crumple but refused tears a place.
It was done.
At least she knew now, she told herself, what it was possible to feel, how filled up she could be, how happy. She’d learned too much about grief the past three years not to get to learn bliss, too.
That’s what she told herself.
A knock came at the outer door, through the bright sitting room. Elspeth had ordered ridiculous pink wine from the room service menu. It was all on Pella.
Standing, she smoothed the skirt over her thighs and went barefoot on the thick carpet to answer. Soon—after at least one massive glass of wine—she’d
strip off the rest of her only business suit, and put on the new, glittering jumpsuit and high heels. They’d go for appetizers at this posh tapas place Kam liked, then walk two blocks to the museum.
Elspeth opened the door, tip in hand, and caught her breath to see Daniel Kelly standing there in his navy blue suit without the jacket, waistcoat accentuating his torso and shoulder, the shirtsleeves rolled perfectly. His hair flopped in his eye, not quite as perfect, which made it better, of bloody course. It was unfair for him to be so sexy. How dare she like it? How dare he make her want him still?
“I told you,” she said, in her best prima donna tone, “I do not wish to see you gloat, or to see you at all.”
She started to close the door, but he stepped in. “Please, Elspeth, please,” he said. “I just want to say something, and if you hate it, I’ll never bother you again.”
He sounded desperate.
Good. Elspeth turned her back to him. She walked across the fine sitting room and knelt before the elegant chest of drawers hiding the minibar. She didn’t have to wait for room service. “How did you even find me?” she demanded.
Daniel stood, one hand in his pocket, looking for all the world right at home in this fancy place. He winced.
“Oh,” Elspeth said. “Right. Your company made the arrangements.”
His bitter-chocolate eyes drilled into her. “I love you.”
Elspeth sat back on her heels and stared up at him, trying to be unmoved, trying to hear anything else over the roar in her ears. She said nothing. Her mouth wanted to fall open in horror, but she didn’t allow it. Her heart wanted to tear out of her chest, but she didn’t allow that either. She wanted him to say it again. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“I should have told you yesterday,” he continued in her silence. “Or when I realized it, at Dolwyddelan Castle.”
She scoffed in defense, frustrated at how well he’d pronounced it. She could not think about standing with his arms around her in the hollowed-out keep. She’d remember her tender feelings, her fucking happiness.
Naughty Brits: An Anthology Page 45