‘Mum’s in a tizzy about not having the place cleaned for your arrival. I assured her I’d roll the red carpet out for you myself but we’d best get out of here before we run into a cleaning mob brandishing mops and dusters.’
Violet ignored the barb, simply grateful he’d run interference for her, when Mrs Taylor was probably bursting with questions for her. ‘I’m sure the house is as spotless as ever with your mother at the helm. I only wish I could clone her and take her back to London with me.’
Unlike Strachmore Castle, her poky flat was never going to make the cover of any magazines but she worked hard to pay the rent. That meant more to her than gleaming silver and polished marble floors ever would.
Nate threw the car into reverse and rested his arm along the back of her seat as he kept watch out of the back window. The smell of soap and hard-working doctor enveloped her and for a moment she was tempted to snuggle into his solid chest. He could give her comfort and a whole lot besides. Exactly why she should stick to the idea of him as only a friend, or her father’s doctor, and not someone who’d taken the lead role in her first erotic imaginings.
‘Do you know how long you’ll be staying? I mean, is someone holding the fort for you while you’re here?’ He trained his eyes back on the dark road leading from the cottage up to the main house, so Violet couldn’t tell if he was fishing for personal info or making polite conversation.
‘I’ll stay as long as I’m needed. I have a lot of personal leave I can use.’ She preferred to keep busy with work rather than take duvet days where she had nothing to do but dwell on things beyond her control. It wasn’t the first time her superiors had warned her of possible burnout if she didn’t take a break from her caseload so they’d be only too happy for her to take some time off.
‘If you need anything my parents will be here to help.’
He was leaving himself out of the equation but it was a long time since Violet had relied on anyone having her back. For good reason. She’d needed to learn to stand on her own two feet to make herself stronger than her mother had been.
‘Thank you. I know you’ve gone out of your way to help me and I wouldn’t want to get your other half offside by holding you hostage to my problems.’ Okay, she was fishing. He’d been her first crush, her first kiss, it was only natural that this curious cat was wrestling a green-eyed monster at the thought of him going home to another woman. One who wasn’t afraid to make compromises.
‘There’s no danger of that. I’m a confirmed bachelor.’
Those words had the same effect as if he’d thrown a bucket of ice-cold water over her as she jumped from one conclusion to another. She’d been so caught up in her feelings for him she’d never contemplated how much his could have changed for her, or for women in general. Suddenly his new grooming regime started to take on a whole new meaning. ‘You’re not—’
‘No, I’m not gay, Violet. I thought you of all people would realise I’m attracted to women.’ He turned and, though Violet couldn’t see his face clearly in the dim interior, she imagined he was looking at her lips, remembering that kiss too.
She’d managed to block it out for over a decade but here, so close to him again, it was all she could think about. That first tentative exploration of each other had soon given way to a raw passion she hadn’t experienced since. These days she approached any romantic entanglements with a certain degree of cynicism and caution, which meant she was always holding back. In that moment with Nate’s lips on hers she’d given no thought to consequence or complications that could arise. That had come later when she’d tried to imagine a future together and failed. He didn’t belong in her world and vice versa. Ironically they seemed to have traded places anyway.
As the stately home loomed into view of the car headlights, the butterflies in her stomach turned kamikaze, dive-bombing her insides until there was a chance she might hurl over the expensive leather upholstery. At least it was wipe-clean.
‘Home sweet home.’ Nate’s attempt at humour was a welcome distraction from the memories assaulting her from the second the stone pillars of the eighteenth-century house came into view.
Her father, spit forming at the corners of his mouth when she defied him by sneaking out to a concert with Nate.
Violet hiding in the old servants’ quarters when she was supposed to be dining with the Montgomery family, whose son had been deemed a suitable match for her at the age of seventeen.
The empty pill bottle by her mother’s bedside.
Dark humour was definitely the cure for dark memories.
‘In case you can’t see it, I’m giving you the death stare.’
Nate gave a hearty chuckle, letting the serious doctor mask slip for a glimpse of her old friend. ‘Nostrils flaring, mouth puckered up like you’ve just licked a lemon, eyes narrowed to mere slits—I can picture it now.’
Violet flattened her lips back into a thin line with a huff. She could hear the smugness in his voice that he still knew her better than anyone even after all of this time.
They pulled up into the driveway and the sound of the handbrake meant there was no more stalling.
‘Thanks for everything. I can let myself in.’
‘No can do. I told you I’m under instruction to escort Lady Violet inside her ancestral home. Don’t forget, under different circumstances I could’ve ended up as your official errand boy.’
He was being facetious. Violet knew he would never have played the skivvy any more than she would’ve been the boss lady. Still, it conjured up more interesting images if they’d chosen different paths.
She let out a long sigh and admitted defeat. Having a surly Nate here was infinitely more bearable than having Mrs Taylor fussing around her, or setting foot back inside alone. It was one thing going home to an empty flat at night but an entirely different game coming back here where the ghosts of her past roamed the hallways.
* * *
Nate really needed to work on that keeping-at-arm’s-length ethos where relationships were concerned. He’d thought he’d built up a tolerance to all things Dempsey since his teenage heartbreak. One glimpse of those big blue eyes and he was taking on the duties of the whole domestic staff who’d once resided here—the chauffeur, the butler and housekeeper all rolled into one. He told himself his promise to light a fire and see her settled in was the only way to keep his parents at bay and Violet’s discomfort to a minimum. They meant well, their subservient role so deeply ingrained in them the very thought of Lady Violet returning to a cold, empty house brought them out in a cold sweat. He knew this would be difficult enough for her without an audience and he still had a duty of care via her father.
Despite their history, or possibly because of the one they’d had pre-kiss, he still felt an obligation to help her. Perhaps he wasn’t as far removed from his heritage as he liked to think. He’d really been the only one Violet had had to turn to when things had got rough and it would be callous for him to abandon her now for the sake of his own pride. He simply hadn’t been able to leave her for the night in that waiting room, expecting her to bed down where she stood. In a fit of madness he’d even briefly contemplated taking her back to his house rather than expect her to face this place alone.
Ultimately he’d done enough damage to his relationship boundaries already. She was only back in the country five minutes and he’d already landed himself firmly in the friend zone. Not a position he wanted to be in with any beautiful woman. Especially one he already had an emotional history with. One who’d dumped him without a second thought. Then there was the double blow to his ego with the whole gay thing. He knew one teenage fumble probably hadn’t made a long-lasting impact on her but he’d assumed it had been enough to define his sexuality.
Now