by Janae Keyes
I watched the trees that lined the road pass as we began to make our way off the property. The car was mostly silent except for the light jazz playing at a low volume on the radio. I had a feeling that this fundraiser was going to be very different from the types I’d attended back home that were usually in the form of crab feeds and 5K runs.
“Tonight is to help a society that funds leukemia research,” Nate explained. I turned to face him, but he wasn’t looking at me as gazed out his window.
“Do you have personal experience with leukemia?” I inquired of him.
“Someone I know, her child had a rare form of leukemia. It was very difficult on their family and being such good people they didn’t deserve that. This society was able to fund the research to find a new treatment for that type of cancer,” he explained, still not looking at me. I spotted his hand lift to his face as if he was wiping away tears. My heart thumped at him showing a very real emotion outside of the normally rigid attitude that he’d presented to me in the past.
“How is he, now?” I questioned thinking of the child he spoke of. For the first time, Nate turned in my direction, and an unmistakable smile was on his lips.
“He is thriving now, he just turned 8 and is in complete remission,” Nate announced proudly. Joy filled my body as I thought of this child that had already been through so much, but was living his life again like a normal child should and thanks to this group we were going to support tonight. “We’ve arrived,” Nate said.
I glanced up to see a manor all lit up in front of us. The hedges and trees around the old home were covered in white fairy lights. I could spot other guests arriving, the women looking fabulous in their ball gowns and the men handsome in their tuxedos.
Langston pulled up along the line of cars and stopped. He exited the car and went around to open Nate’s door. Allowing Nate out, Nate turned and offered me his hand. Once more I took it and slipped from the black vehicle.
On Nate’s arm, we walked up the stairs and into the old manor. I imagined that this place was slightly older than Branagan Manor, but still very much as majestic. There were orange decorations everywhere. There were masses of tables upon entering the ballroom, all of them with white tablecloths and large centerpieces filled with orange flowers.
Looking up toward the stage there was a large banner that read Cumbria Leukemia Research Society Annual Fundraiser. A waiter approached us with a tray overflowing with glasses of champagne, I took one for myself and Nate did the same.
“There he is, Lord Branagan,” called out a male voice. Nate turned with me to see a short, balding man approach us. He had a young woman on his arm, she looked to be about my age, she was very blonde and was practically covered in diamonds.
“Sir Willington, a pleasure,” Nate greeted him with a handshake. As easeful as Nate appeared, it was obvious at least to me that he wasn’t the most comfortable with the social situation. His body seemed tense, and I could feel the energy radiating from him.
“And who is your date tonight?” Sir Willington asked as he eyed me, his eyes glazed over with a lust that made me shift uncomfortably. At once, Nate’s arm went around my waist, and he pulled me next to him tightly as if he was protecting me.
“This is Taylor Walker, a very talented artist from America I’ve hired to give Branagan Manor a more contemporary feel,” Nate announced proudly as he continued to hold me tight.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Walker,” Sir Willington expressed, his eyes sticking to me like glue.
“Nice to meet you too,” I mumbled eager to exit the situation. I nervously gulped down my champagne while I glanced at Nate.
“And look, I’ve spotted someone I’ve been meaning to introduce Taylor to, we will see you around Sir Willington,” Nate said quickly before he pulled my glass from my hand and placed his as well as mine on the tray of a passing waiter. He yanked me away and toward an open door that led outside. We stepped into the cool night air and around a tall pillar where we were out of sight.
“There is no one here,” I said as I noticed we were practically alone on the large balcony, but out of sight of the ballroom since we were on the other side of the ornate column.
“I needed to get you out of there quickly. I could tell Sir Willington was on the prowl, and you were in his sights to be his next victim,” Nate explained to me, his hands holding me tightly at my waist as my back pressed to the stone behind me.
“Victim?” I questioned as I cocked my head to the side.
“Yes, Sir Marshall Willington is known for moving from one young girl to the next. It is as if he collects them. Like Hugh Hefner, but British and without a magazine,” Nate told me.
“And what if I like being stalked like prey by old men?” I questioned playfully as Nate moved in closer to me, my back pressed firmly on the column.
“By the way, you were wiggling in there, I could tell you were itching to go as soon as possible. I just accelerated the process,” Nate informed me with a soft grin.
I felt his breath on my face, he was incredibly close. I shifted as the warmth that took over between my legs. My hands landed on his chest, I felt his muscles flex under my touch. I yearned to yank him closer and to have that feeling of his body pressed to mine as it had been earlier.
“You look better with your curls down,” Nate said in barely a whisper, his olive eyes studying my face. My heart pounded as he removed a hand from my waist, it went to my head and easily he was able to pull the tie off that was holding my hair in a bun. My curls dropped effortlessly around my face and to my shoulders. “That’s better.”
He settled his strong hand on my shoulder, my breath caught as I melted into his firm grip on me. It was almost as if he was possessing me and claiming me as his own. I leaned in eager for more, I didn’t quite know what more was, but I wanted it.
A voice called out, and Nate pulled away from me. I shivered at the chill that took over my lips once his body was no longer keeping mine warm. Nate glanced toward the house.
“It is time to be seated,” he informed me before taking me by the hand.
Inside everyone was finding their seats. Nate pulled out a chair for me as we reached the table and I took the offered seat before he sat down next to me. Everyone around us was chatting, and a few others at the table greeted Nate before he introduced me.
The event began with a speech by the society’s founder and a few other people. We listened to speeches and watched videos during the dinner. As dessert was served, I took bites of the delicious rhubarb tart that was served.
Nate kept light conversation with the others at our table. The woman next to me droned on and on about her cats while Nate playfully kicked me under the table at every mention of her cats.
“Now as the evening is beginning to come to a close, I’d like to call our biggest donor to the stage. With funds from this man, C.L.R.S. has made strides in aiding leukemia research and patients who were unable to afford these groundbreaking treatments have had their lives saved. Please welcome, Lord Nathaniel Branagan,” the woman at the podium announced.
I sharply turned to Nate, who looked a little embarrassed. He was reluctant as he placed his napkin on the table and stood from his seat. The room was in applause as he strode toward the stage and the podium.
He cleared his throat as he stood overlooking the room full of fundraiser guests. He took a deep breath and his eyes met mine. I gave him a gentle smile. He hid so much of himself behind his hard exterior, but he was much like the rest of us, he was a little shy and timid. Though he was extremely wealthy and held a status, he cared about the world around him and the others that lived in it. It was apparent that this society wouldn’t be as far as they were without him and his kind heart that he kept hidden away from the world.
“I’d like to thank C.L.R.S. for having me here tonight. As most of you know, I discovered the struggling research society when the son of someone close to me was diagnosed with leukemia. I wanted this young boy to get the best tr
eatments he could and to do that, more research needed to be done at a quicker pace. For this research to be taken care of, money was needed, and I had that money. I can’t think of a better organization to give to. I’ve seen the work they do up close, and I know a family that his reaped the benefits. Tonight, I’ve been informed that this dinner alone has raised over ten million pounds, and I am pledging to match that with ten million more to keep the great work going.”
Everyone in the room stood including myself and we applauded. Nate stood hesitantly accepting the praise. This man was nothing like the man he put off to me at times, he was humble and kind behind it all. I only wondered why he didn’t show that man to the world more often. I’d found the runny center to Nate’s egg.
WE RETURNED FROM the banquet relatively early. The night continued with dancing, but Nate was eager to get home. The car ride back to Branagan Manor was silent. I thought of the painting I’d started and how much it actually represented the man that was Nathaniel Branagan. As eager as I was to paint on it, I knew sleep was in order.
I spent most of the next day painting away before deciding to give it a break, at least to clean up a bit and get some food in me. Leaving the studio behind, I went right across the hall and to my room. Taped to the door, there was a note on Branagan Family stationary. I pulled it down and immediately I knew the handwriting belonged to Nate.
Taylor,
Tonight, I will not work through dinner and eat alone in my room as always. I will eat with you. Please join me in the dining room at 7.
Best Regards,
Nathaniel
That was unexpected and in a strange way I appreciated his effort to make it up to me. I entered my room with the note in my hand. I found myself reading it to myself over and over again. For once, I wasn’t going to be eating dinner alone. I normally went to dinner in jeans and a tank, but tonight was different, I was having a meal with a Lord.
I went to the wardrobe and opened it fully. I’d brought a number of dresses with me, and I wanted to wear something flirty. Our time at the fundraiser had given me something to explore. Nate held something for me, I didn’t quite know what he held, was it just a mere lust or was there more hiding underneath, much like his personality.
I picked out a black lace fit and flare dress that stopped mid-thigh. I always adored the way I felt in this dress and tonight would be no exception. I dropped the dress on my bed as I quickly hurried into the en suite bathroom. I didn’t have much time to get ready, and I wanted to be on time as I knew Nate was similar to my mother when it came to being on time.
I took a quick shower to be fresh before putting on my dress. I applied a light layer of makeup and kicked it off with my favorite pink lipstick. My curls had been secured in a bun all day, but I shook them loose, and they fluffed out perfectly as if it was meant to be. I checked myself out in the mirror and gave my lips a final smack before I headed downstairs.
As I neared the dining room, I could hear the soft sounds of classical music playing. I followed the music and the smell of the delicious foods until I reached the room I’d spent a lot of time in eating alone and chatting with Anne, the head of house.
Inside of the room, I spotted Nate right away. He was speaking with the chef who gave me a nod and a smile. The chef said a few more words to Nate, in French, before he left us alone. My eyes studied Nate, who stood in navy slacks with a white button up. I wondered how many white button up shirts this man owned.
Nate turned in my direction, and I was struck, he looked completely different. His beard was trimmed down into a neat goatee, and his hair had a major haircut. He no longer looked scruffy and possibly homeless, he actually looked like royalty. My stomach jumped into my throat. He was attractive, and my body was reacting to him in ways I didn’t expect. There was a distinct buzzing that hit me between my legs, and my palms were sweating.
“Hello,” he said, his voice warm and inviting, his eyes studied me with the same intensity that I’d studied him. “You look very nice.”
“Thanks, you look ... different,” I sputtered out like some dunce. Nate let out a laugh that rang through the room.
“Just different?” he questioned.
“Yeah, just different,” I played off in an attempt to gain back my confidence that had taken a dive with my awe of him. I couldn’t stop staring, he looked like an entirely new person, nothing like the man I’d spent the evening before with.
Nate walked to where I was and offered his hand, I allowed him to take it. His skin was soft and supple, electricity flowed through his fingers to mine in a strong current. I tried to fight the jittering that took over my body as he pulled me along with him toward the table.
Tonight, the table wasn’t just set plainly with one table setting and a bouquet of flowers, there were two table settings. Instead of the usual mix of wildflowers, there was a crystal vase stuffed with bright red roses, and candles were lit throwing a dim glow around the room.
Nate stopped at one of the two chairs, he pulled it out and motioned for me to sit. Smoothing the back of my lace dress, I took my seat while he pushed my chair in. I couldn’t help, but watch while he took his place. My eyes never left him, I was intrigued and captivated by the changes he’d made to his look.
“Wine?” he questioned.
“Oh, yes, please,” I responded as he picked up a bottle of red wine from the table. I didn’t recognize the label, it appeared to be French. I didn’t know too much about wine, though, I went on a few tasting trips in Napa, but typically I stayed on the cheap side, and Arbor Mist was my best friend as a struggling artist, who occasionally needed a light buzz.
“Chef Julian figured this would be an excellent selection with our dinner,” he noted as he began to pour some of the dark burgundy liquid into my stemmed glass before pouring his own.
I watched closely as Nate picked up his glass, he swirled the liquid around and put his nose to the rim, taking a sniff before bringing it to his lips. I’d never noticed his lips much before, they were always hidden in the forest that he called a beard. His lips were actually plump and were a soft blush shade of pink. I wondered what they felt like. I looked on as he took a sip and swished the wine around in his mouth.
“I umm ... don’t know much about wine. Actually, I don’t know anything about wine, to tell the truth. What kind is it and what the hell are you doing?” He’d intrigued me, and I felt stupid for asking the questions, but it was at least an opportunity to learn something new.
“This is a Pinot Noir from the Burgundy region in France. It is from a lovely small family owned vineyard called Chateau Ernestine. To explain, I was swirling the wine because it activates esters and aromatizes them. Brings out the smell more. When smelling it, I can take in the various aromas and in tasting it, I can get the taste, texture, and length,” he expertly explained to me before taking another sip.
“I’ve seen it done on TV, but I’d never understood what they were doing,” I noted with a nervous giggle. It struck me that I was learning a tiny something about the mysterious man. “So, you enjoy knowing about wine?”
“I guess you can say that. I wouldn’t say it is a huge passion of mine, but I enjoy knowing about the various wines and the differences between them. It always makes a trip to France enjoyable,” he said, his eyes watching me intensely. I realized I hadn’t drunk any of mine yet.
I took the glass by the stem and put it to my lips. I allowed myself to sniff in the intense aromas, but I wouldn’t know anything about them. Taking a sip my mouth was filled with the rich flavors. I’d never tasted wine so smooth and inviting.
“Woah, that is good wine,” I admitted in amazement. Nate gave me a smile. “This must cost a fortune.”
“A small one, but good wine is always worth it.” He spoke as if that was a law, in his home at least.
“Yeah, when you have the money to spend,” I noted before taking another sip. Sitting my stemmed glass back on the table I never allowed my eyes to leave his, I was trapped in hi
s strong yet inviting gaze. “You travel often?”
“Sometimes, I like France. I can get away and get lost in the vineyards. I own a small one in the Champagne region, Château de Verre. With work, it can be difficult to get down there as much as I’d like.” He was so open and honest with me. I only wondered when this attitude would shift on me, and his ugly side would rear its head. Before I could respond to him, the doors of the kitchen opened, and Chef Julien emerged with two plates in his hand. It was time for me to shut up and stuff my face, I was starving.
I worked my fork into the delicious looking dish that had been prepared for us. Taking a bite, I closed my eyes, Chef Julian could work magic with a skillet and his intuition. Opening my eyes, I glanced up to see Nate, his eyes were directly on mine. I adverted my own as quickly as I could manage.
“What got you into painting?” Nate asked, and I could feel a smile creeping across my face in response.
“I don’t know really. I think a mixture of finding it enjoyable as a kid, the desire to express myself and step outside of the norms, and color. I love color, everything about it. The world is filled with so many colors and to bring them all into something beautiful, it’s amazing,” I expressed to him. I didn’t think anyone had ever taken the time to ask me what painting was for me or why it interested me so much that I’d rather live a pauper’s existence than give it up for something more practical.
“That’s why you were picking my flowers?” He inquired, his voice stern and demanding. I swallowed at his change in attitude.
“Yeah, flowers are a huge part of my inspiration. They are nature's crayons. That is one thing I splurge on. When I lack inspiration, I go buy myself a really nice bouquet of flowers,” I told him, thinking of the small bouquet I’d picked for myself in the garden. “I’m sorry about picking the flowers. I will go buy some next time—”