Page 52 of Tears of Ink

He watches me, perplexed.

“So, what are you doing here? I thought you didn’t live here?” I crack a sly smile.

“Oh, I know. It’s the only reason you agreed to come.” He grins. Honestly, it’s mesmerising. And the fact he’s here, even if he did overhear my row with slimy Steers makes my chest tighten in this odd way.

“I thought you might want supper. I wasn’t convinced you’d brave the dining room.”

I smirk a little. “I’m a big girl.”

His powerful gaze sweeps over my body. “I know. But is the big girl hungry?”

I notice he’s holding a stripy picnic bag. “What’s in there?”

“Wine, bread, and cheese.”

My smile stretches. “Three of my favourite things.”

“Come on. I know just the place.”

I’m surprised when he leads us to the conservatory where we had lunch the first time I came here. It’s quite exposed, and really I could do without the Wicked Witch of the West thinking I was stealing one of her grandsons. He steps forward confidently, not looking at who else might be around. The conservatory is surprisingly, and wonderfully empty. The lights are low solar bulbs lining the walkways, so we can see where we are going. The insects are quiet, and even the flowers seem to be sleeping.

“What time is it?” I hadn’t even thought to check what inconvenient hour Gerard had decided to bombard Bowsley Hall and come knocking on my studio door.

“About ten, I think.”

“Ten? Have you just got back from work on a Sunday?” This sounds awful. Even at the ink shop in the height of summer, with drunk idiots begging to be inked, we’d always walk away at 5pm. It was one of my dad’s rules. Al would be the one working into the night.

I close my mind to thoughts of my dad. How did he creep in? I slam the door to my memory vault firmly in place.

“I’m trying to help a family.”

My ears prick up. His voice lowers. Does he not want anyone else to hear? I continue to follow him and his stripy bag through the dimly lit pathways of the conservatory. How big is this place? It’s like being in the jungle. “Tabitha mentioned you are working on a sexual harassment case.”

His shoulder straightens under the fine blue shirt. “Yes.”

Okay. Maybe we aren’t allowed to talk about it.

“Here.” He motions with his hand, and I see we have stumbled into a small pebbled area. I stand open mouthed. This place can’t be real, surely?

We are in a circular clearing. Pathways converge from different sides of the large conservatory. But we must be against a far wall because right in front of us, gushing from the roof is an indoor waterfall.

Momentarily, I’m lost for words. “This is a-amazing,” I finally manage to stutter.

He smiles, and it glimmers in the light of the moon and dances with the glow of the solar lamps. “It’s special even in daylight, but it’s something else at night. I love sitting here and thinking.”

“Doesn’t everyone sit here? I’d never be able to leave this place if this was my home.” God, it is like standing on an island of heaven. Even the air is dense and sweet, filled with pungent natural scents that remind me of places I haven’t even been. It takes me to the places I used to shut my eyes and dream about.

“No, I’m the only one who spends any time here.”

“Not even Tabitha?” I’m surprised. She’s shown remarkable ability with all the tricky little jobs I’ve given her today. Somewhere under her pale and slender exterior, is a rebel artist desperate to get out.

I watch Elijah. In the moonlight he looks something else. His straight, perfect nose is highlighted with silvery tones. The short hair on his head glows a little with the natural back-light. And those shoulders in that shirt.

Okay, I need to stop this right now.

He shakes a picnic blanket out and motions for me to sit down. “Not even Tabitha,” he continues, answering my long-forgotten question as I became distracted by the handsome sight of him.

“Why? She seems to be unsure of what interests her. She can’t wander around this house all day.”