“Are you enjoying the party?” Graham asked.
“It’s fantastic,” Jo offered. “You have a beautiful house.”
“You live here too?” I asked.
“Guilty.” He seemed a little embarrassed about it. “My parents’ estate is in Edinburgh, but I’ve been living with my aunt and uncle since primary school.”
“Why?” I blurted out.
“My parents work for the embassy, and are overseas most of the year. They didn’t want me raised by nannies. Apparently, nannies hired by my aunt and uncle were a more palatable idea.” He smiled, but something sad flickered in his eyes.
Jo’s phone started buzzing. She excused herself, and stepped away to read the incoming text.
“Aren’t you lonely?” I asked Graham.
“Who could be lonely in one hundred twenty-six rooms?” he said, sarcastically.
“Are there really that many?”
“At last count. Ten ballrooms, thirteen dining rooms, four kitchens, seven libraries . . .” He stopped. “I sound more like a tour guide than a tenant, don’t I?”
“No, it’s interesting,” I said. I ran my palms along the cool, concrete banister. “Tell me more about the maze. I’ve never seen one before. Unless you count ones cut into cornfields at Halloween.”
“Well, let’s see, there are more than sixteen thousand trees. The theme is—”
“Theme? It has a theme?”
“Yes, labyrinths have a history of twisted entertainment, if you will,” he explained. “They represent how the path of life is hard to navigate, but that you mustn’t give up until you reach salvation.”
“You mean, ‘get out,’” I said.
“Precisely. But walking through bushes can get boring after a while, so most labyrinths have a theme, usually a humorous one, with little secrets and surprises along the way.”
“What’s the theme of this one?”
He pointed to the start of the maze, where two large statues loomed on opposite sides of the path: a beautiful woman and a man with wings. “Cupid and Psyche,” he said. “The angel of love, and the beautiful human girl he fell in love with.”
A wave of hot energy burst from the base of my scalp and seeped down my back. “I’ve never . . . never heard of them,” I stammered, trying not to think of Gavin . . . and failing.
“They’re from a Latin fairy tale called . . .”
“The Golden Ass,” I finished.
He ran his hand across his forehead, up into his auburn hair. “I’m impressed. I thought you’d never heard of them.”
“I haven’t.” I blushed. “I have no idea where that came from. It just popped into my head.” I looked down, embarrassed to have interrupted him with my random trivia brain.
He continued, “The labyrinth symbolizes their journey. Psyche must visit the Underworld to earn Cupid’s love.”
Is that all it takes? I thought sourly. I considered the choices, and decided visiting hell to get Gavin back was much preferable to being loved and left behind. I was bouncing between self-pity and bitterness when Jo reappeared, worry creasing her face.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I got a text that my grandmother had a stroke,” she said. “I have to go.”
My throat caught at the word grandmother. It took me a second to register that Jo meant hers, not mine. I realized I must care about my grandparents more than I thought, since I couldn’t bear the idea of something happening to either of them.
“How awful,” Graham said. “We can have a car take you directly to the hospital.”
“I don’t want to be a bother,” Jo said.
“Of course not. Come, I’ll arrange everything.”
“I’m coming,” I said.
“No, stay and enjoy the party,” Jo replied.
“But . . .” I faltered, “I only came for you.” I widened my eyes at her to signal I couldn’t say more in front of Graham without insulting his family, but I wanted to scream, Don’t leave me here with the rich freaks! Unfortunately, Jo missed my silent message entirely.
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “You’ll have a great time. And you don’t want to sit in a tiny visitor’s room for the next five hours, trust me.”
“But . . .” I was stuck. How could I argue that I would like anything better than to stay at the party when one of the hosts was right in front of me?
“You should definitely stay,” Graham confirmed. He turned to Jo. “I promise I’ll take good care of her.”
They left, and I was standing alone. I gazed back over the garden. The moon slid out from behind a patch of clouds and bathed the statues of Cupid and Psyche in an eerie light. I heard a strange, high-pitched scream in the distance. Even though it wasn’t cold at all, I shivered. As beautiful as it was, something about Campbell Hall wasn’t right.
While I was content to stand at the balcony’s edge until the party was over, Anders found me and had other plans.
“It’s our very own American princess!” he said, sucking on a cigarette and blowing smoke above his head.
“I prefer ‘queen,’” I replied. “And you know smoking kills.” Even though he acted like a pig, there was no denying Anders was attractive. Aggravatingly so.
“Eventually, everything does,” he said with a smirk, taking another drag.
“Well, it’s disgusting, anyway,” I retorted.
“You’ve never had a ciggy, then, have you?”
“No. I told you, it’s gross.”
“I’ve been smoking since I was eleven,” he said. “I should probably stop, but I’ve never found a good enough reason.”
“Not even for a girl?”
“Psssh.” He shrugged. “Never happen. Most of the Scottish girls I’ve kissed don’t seem to mind.”
“Ugh, I would never kiss someone who smoked.” I turned back to the garden as if I couldn’t be bothered to continue our conversation, but inside, I was reeling. Talking about kissing with a gorgeous guy, even if he was smoking, was titillating.
“Wouldn’t you?” he asked. “If I gave them up right now, just for you, would you kiss me?”
“Your mouth is already completely ruined for the night,” I said. We were definitely flirting now, and I was sincerely enjoying the rush of power it gave me.
“What about tomorrow?” he asked.
“I’m busy,” I said.
“So you wouldn’t kiss me, even after I gave up smoking for you and everything? I’m crushed.” He took a few exaggerated steps backward, clutching his heart.
“’Fraid not.”
“How about a dance, then?” he asked, putting his cigarette out by squishing it on the stone railing just an inch from my hand. “Look, my last one. You’ve convinced me. I’m through forever. The least you could do is dance with me.”
Like all the guys in Scotland, his accent made him a million times more gorgeous. He bent his head and gave me an impish smile, making him really hard to refuse. What could possibly be the harm of a little dancing?
CHAPTER 17
Anders was actually fun to dance with, and I was relieved he gave me space instead of trying to grind up against me. The DJ played a couple of my favorite songs, and despite my best efforts, I was having a good time.
The room was stifling, though, and Anders was kind enough to get me a drink. I went with him, to make sure I was only getting soda. I lied and told him I was trying to pace myself.
“Smart girl,” he said, clicking his finger and thumb like a gun at me. I was sure he had no problem holding his liquor, but he didn’t order anything for himself.
Before I’d had two sips, Elsie stomped over and dragged Anders away.
Thankfully, Stuart appeared out of the crowd and asked me to dance. I didn’t want to be stuck alone again, and another great song came on, so I agreed.
Three, or maybe four, songs later, I started to get dizzy.
“Are you okay?” Stuart asked.
“I’m just overheated,” I said. “I think I�
�m going to find the ladies’ room.”
“Do you need me to walk you?”
The thought of being escorted to the bathroom was horrifying. “No, I’m fine. Just point me in the right direction.”
“Go back out the doors you came in, turn right, go down the hall until you see a staircase. Go down a flight of stairs, and you’ll find it on the left.”
“Got it,” I said. “Right, right, down, left.”
I bobbed through the crowd and emerged into the wood-paneled hallway. I walked down to the right, but found three sets of stairs—two going down and one going up. A girl with a shiny silver dress and disheveled hair emerged from the middle staircase.
“It’s down there,” she said.
“Thanks,” I answered.
On the next level down, I finally found a powder room, but it was to the right, not the left. The bathroom was as ornate as the rest of the house, but sadly did not contain the famous golden toilet. I smiled as I thought of Jo and her pee promise. The walls were covered in a dark red velvet paper. The fixtures were jet-black, glistening with little crystals in them. I twisted the sparkly black handles over the sink and splashed cold water on my face, careful to avoid my eye makeup.
As I did, I noticed the sprawling mural painted across the entire ceiling. Only a rich person would hire an artist to paint the ceiling of their bathroom. The scene was mostly dark red, like the walls, and I realized it was a painting of hell. Little angels were falling from the sky like baby birds, landing in the flames below. How very twisted.
The entire room started to throb along with my head. Maybe it was the painted fire, or maybe it was the walls, but I got crazy hot again. Being in the room felt like being inside a big, red mouth.
I fumbled with the door handle, successfully unlocked it, and practically fell into the hall. I walked back toward the staircase, but found it was no longer there. I must have taken a wrong turn. There were so many passages and closed doors, I was afraid of opening the wrong door and finding who-knows-what or, worse yet, people I did know doing who-knows-who. I kept walking, but never found another stairwell or another person. My ears started ringing, and I was afraid I might throw up. Not on the fancy carpet, I prayed.
I turned another corner and found a larger door with a round, golden bar horizontally across it. I pushed on the bar, and was relieved to taste the cool night air. I was on a patio at the ground level. I spotted the giant stone party balcony above to my right, but I had no idea how to get there, and no desire to go back inside. I plopped down on a stone bench near a fragrant flowering tree.
I pulled my phone from my pocket to text Jo. As I was typing the message, a shadow crossed over the screen. I lifted my eyes.
“Hello, Bombshell.” It was Anders. I expected him to be passed out, sloppy drunk, or making out with Elsie or some other girl by then, but he stood in front of me perfectly composed, perfectly sober, and still perfectly handsome.
I smiled and found my eyelids felt heavy, like they were dropping all the way down to the corners of my mouth. I shook my head and tried to perk up.
“Hi,” I said.
“I see you’ve found our garden.”
“Yes,” I replied. “By accident. I’m lost.”
“No, you’re not,” he said, settling down beside me. “You’re with me, and I most definitely know where we are. I grew up here, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right,” I said. “Isn’t it your birthday or something?”
“That’s what they tell me. Did you bring me a gift?”
I was mortified for a moment, because I hadn’t. “I thought the invitation said ‘no gifts.’”
“That’s the polite thing to write, of course, but you could have brought me something anyway.” He smiled. Why did he look so darn gorgeous? Maybe it was the moonlight. Maybe I was drunk and didn’t know it. Could you get drunk without drinking alcohol?
“I am your gift,” I heard myself saying. “Aren’t I what you wished for?” Now I was giggling.
“More than I could ever wish for,” Anders said, lowering his voice and sounding even sexier than usual. He stood up, and held out his hand to me. “And now I have a gift for you.”
I took his hand and let him pull me up. It seemed like I was weighed down with concrete somehow, but he managed to get me upright anyway.
“What is it?” I asked, giggling again.
“A private tour,” he answered, leading me away from the bench. “To hell and back.”
“What do you mean?” I said. My legs felt wobbly, and I wondered if the stones we were walking on were set unevenly on purpose so damsels in distress would have an opportunity to fall into their hero’s arms. Was I finally a damsel in distress? I decided yes to the damsel, no to the distress. And to heck with Gavin. He’d left, and I needed to move on. There were plenty of other accents in the sea.
“You’re a very special girl, Maren,” Anders said. “I knew it from the moment I set eyes on you.”
I realized we were still holding hands as we walked. His hands were warm and soft. We were walking toward the hedge maze, and then into it. I wanted to explore you, hedge maze, I thought, from the moment I set eyes on you.
I spied a white ghost to my left and jumped. It was the statue of Cupid. I laughed uncontrollably. Now that I was closer, I could see his wings. Rather small, I thought, remembering Gavin’s impressive span. Anders pulled me farther into the maze, and I followed.
The air was heavy with the smell of night blossoms, and every time I stumbled against Anders, I inhaled his cologne. I wanted to bathe in it.
I don’t remember the entire maze walk, but I know it was full of surprises I found quite hilarious. We approached an adorable statue of a naked nymph. As I walked closer, he suddenly became animated and peed on me with a little fountain of water from his private parts. I realize now that motion simulators must have been hidden throughout the maze, but at the time, I couldn’t figure it out. I think I stepped back and forth in front of the peeing statue four times before Anders finally dragged me away.
“You’ve gotten yourself all wet,” he said playfully.
I laughed hysterically in response. “He peed on me!”
Anders took off his sport coat and set it across my shoulders. He took my hand again, and hurried me along the path more quickly.
“We’re almost there,” Anders said.
“Almost where?”
I heard the gurgle of running water. It got louder the deeper we went. A shrill scream pierced the shadowy silence. I practically jumped into Anders’ arms, wrapping myself around him as if I’d been frightened to death.
“What was that?” I whispered.
“Just the peacocks, darling,” he whispered back. Even his breath smelled delicious. How was that possible, when he’d been smoking cigarettes? I started to think about what it would be like to kiss him.
We emerged from the maze and found ourselves in front of a small temple with a round dome on top. The rushing water sound was coming from the building itself, and I saw there were jets of water shooting out from at least ten different spots on the front side alone. Amazingly, water even gushed from the top of the dome, sliding down the entire structure, making it glisten. Statues of half-robed women playing with the water decorated the building: they reclined against the temple sides, holding buckets; squatted at the base with elaborate catch basins on their heads; lazed across the top edge, clutching their water jugs like a lover. It was the most elaborate fountain I’d ever seen.
“Welcome to the cascade house,” Anders said.
I was speechless. I had literally lost the ability to speak. I was sure I didn’t look at all attractive with my mouth hanging open, but I couldn’t seem to close it. The water was mesmerizing. I wanted to lie down next to the women on top and go to sleep.
“Come on,” Anders said, tugging on my hand. I just stared at him. “Inside,” he offered. I still couldn’t answer, but allowed him to lead me past streaming waterfalls into the darkness of
the open archway.
Inside, the cascade house was damp, cool, and extremely dark. Water thundered overhead and added to the fog of tiredness that threatened to envelop me. I spotted a long, low concrete bench and wanted desperately to sit on it. Thankfully, Anders understood and led me to it. I sat down, but jumped back to my feet instantly.
“It’s so cold on my bottom,” I heard myself say in between giggles.
“You won’t be cold for long, I promise,” Anders reassured me. He gently removed his jacket from my shoulders and laid it across the bench for me to sit on. He patted it, and I sat back down. Much better.
The benches were extra wide, almost like stone beds. They reminded me of altars. I thought about Romeo and Juliet, and decided she would have stabbed herself on just such a bench.
Thoughts rushed through my head like the water above me. How odd that I was with a lord, inside a fountain in Scotland after dark. Maybe I should be afraid. Why wasn’t I? Why should I be? Anders was big and strong and handsome.
I imagined being a lady and strolling through gardens like this anytime I wanted. I was starting to see why Elsie would want to marry Anders. It wasn’t a bad life.
I felt my eyes closing, and every time they did, it felt so good, like I’d just taken a little nap. I repeatedly opened and closed them, blinking a little longer each time. Anders mumbled something into my neck, but I couldn’t hear what; I could only feel the warmth and vibration. I did hear myself moan.
Anders put his hand into my hair, and it felt divine. I heard a scratching noise, and couldn’t figure out what it was. A small breeze blew on my back. My dress fell off my shoulders, and I couldn’t figure out why. Anders was tugging at the sleeves near my elbows, but I couldn’t straighten them out to help him. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but I couldn’t stop him either. Everything was so hypnotizing.
I felt another gust of wind, and Anders was ripped out of my embrace. I heard yelling, but it sounded like it was at the end of a tunnel. Another person was with us in the cascade house. Another guy. He was dancing with Anders, or wrestling with him or something. Anders went to sleep on the floor, and the new person came over to me. He pulled my dress sleeves back up to my shoulders. I heard him refastening what I now realized was my zipper. He gathered me up in his arms.
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