Page 77 of Gilded Saint

He helps me out of the car, and our feet grind the gravel leading to marble steps in front of an impressive English estate. An expansive lawn surrounds the house, and trees line the border of the lawn in the distance.

An oak door with aged hardware opens, and Nick stands in the threshold.

“Do you have bags?” Nick asks. He’s dressed in flannel pajama bottoms and a silk robe.

“No. We came straight here,” Leo answers.

“Take her up to your suite. I’ll be in my office.”

Leo takes my hand and leads me up a grand staircase to the second floor. Most of the lights are off, but enough light exists to cast a series of oil paintings, all equestrian hunting scenes, in a soft glow. A logical choice for art, I suppose, given this house is undoubtedly a country estate.

We arrive at the end of the hall, turn right down another similar hall, and then arrive at a door that he opens without knocking.

“This is where I always stay when I visit.”

“Those two weeks you were away when we first married. Is this where you were?”

“For a few nights, when I wasn’t in Abu Dhabi.”

The canopy bed looks like it came from the set of theCatherine the Greatmovie. He flicks a light switch and one bedside lamp lights, casting a golden hue over half the room. Gold swirls adorn the wallpaper. A thick golden-brown carpet covers the floor, and the antique furniture is ornate with gold accents.

My fingers brush over the silky-smooth gold comforter. “Nick has a thing for gold, doesn’t he?”

“I’m not sure who decorated his estate, but I’ve always imagined he hired someone and never walked through the estate to see what they did.”

“So, his room isn’t like this?”

“I haven’t seen his bedroom. No plans to either.” He pulls back the comforter and steps aside. “There are spare toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap, shampoo, anything you could need in the bathroom.”

“Bring many people to stay here?”

He taps the tip of my nose and smirks. “Jealous?”

A little. “No.”

He presses his lips to mine, tucks some hair behind my ear, caresses my cheek, and breathes in deeply. “You’re the first woman I’ve invited into this room.” He steps back, and I see it, the warmth in his eyes. He hasn’t told me he loves me, and he may not, but there’s no doubt he cares. “Treat this room like it’s your own.”

“Are there any spare clothes?” There very well could be. An ornate armoire dominates the opposite wall, and there are doors in the hallway that lead toward the bathroom.

“You’re welcome to anything of mine in the closet. Are you feeling okay?”

My face is sore, my eye throbs, but given John died… “I’m fine.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. And tomorrow we’ll take care of getting you everything you need.”

“Leo?” I call to his retreating back.

He turns, giving me his undivided attention. “I’m glad you haven’t brought anyone else here.”

His expression is hard to read, but solemn feels like the best description, and my heart sinks. “We can’t forget our situation.”

“But I’m yours.” Can’t he see that? For me, it’s no longer an arrangement. I only want to be with him.

“You’re not my possession, Willow.”

“But I am.” Can’t he see it? Doesn’t he feel it?

“I can’t keep you.” His lips contort into a sad smile, and he leaves the room.

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