Page 45 of Meet Me Under the Mistletoe
“How do you think Guy feels in his outfit, Camille?” Pippa asked.
“Like he is a man of might and consequence,” Camille answered, raising a wry eyebrow.
The women dissolved into laughter.
“Charles wanted to have sex in his tweeds this morning. Ithink it’s the idea of being let loose with a gun; the power has gone to his head. I told him to take a cold shower.”
“Guy kept strutting in front of the mirror. Thank god it’s the right weather for woolly hats, I didn’t have a hope of getting near any reflective surfaces to do my hair.”
By contrast, Jeremy—whose family owned an estate big enough to warrant a gamekeeper and who had grown up shooting rabbits, deer, and grouse when the numbers required it—was dressed inconspicuously in jeans and a waxed jacket. He was chatting with Dev, who looked sublime in his outdoor clothing; never had an anorak and Wellington boots looked so erotic.
“There ought to be a law against looking that good,” said Pippa, watching Dev with something like hunger in her eyes.
“Charles was complaining last night in bed that Dev was making the rest of them look bad.”
“He is astonishingly handsome,” Camille added dreamily.
“He’s reading Tolstoy at the moment, I practically had to pryAnna Kareninaout of his hands last night to get him to shag me,” said Ameerah.
“For fuck’s sake!” Pippa exploded. “Could he be any more perfect?”
“I didn’t sign up for a man with a brain, he was supposed to be strictly brawn.” Ameerah sulked.
“He’s not even brawny, really,” Camille mused. “More muscularly svelte.” The other women sighed in hearty agreement.
Two Land Rovers clattered over the rise and down to meet them. Douglas, the head gamekeeper, climbed out of one and Isaac the other. Nory’s stomach gave a clench of excitement at the sight of him that even her stupid brother’s veto couldn’t quash. Dev might be a vision of perfection, but there was somethingabout Isaac’s wiry frame and intense expression that made Nory’s limbs go bendy. He smiled when he saw her and pushed his dark hair out of his eyes. Nory resisted the urge to flick her hair and giggle.
She was stuck somewhere between being annoyed that Isaac put his friendship with Thomas over her and being impressed that he was such an honorable friend. She was also more than a little thrilled at the idea of a clandestine affair behind her brother’s back. Was that weird? Why was this so complicated? Perhaps she should follow Ameerah’s lead and commit to man-Barbies only.
A cheer went up from Charles and Guy, with shouts of “Come on!” and “Get in there, my son!” as they punched the air, when Douglas showed them the guns they’d be using.
“God, it’s like being with football hooligans,” said Pippa.
“Do you think they’ll be as competitive at shooting as they were at everything at school?” asked Ameerah.
“Shit, I hope not,” said Jenna. “One of them will end up dead.”
“Were they competitive witheach otheras well? I’d always thought it was just Guy being ambitious,” Camille piped up.
“They were hideous,” Pippa replied bluntly. “Those two could turn anything into a competition.”
“They once held a contest to see who could hold the most popping candy in their mouths,” Nory added.
“Remember that time they tried to see who could get the most detentions in a week?” said Pippa.
“Guy was almost expelled after that,” Nory told Camille.
“I wonder what his father would have said about that,” Camille pondered.
It was common knowledge that Guy’s father, a military man,expected great things from his children. Nothing could be worse in his eyes than a member of his family bringing embarrassment upon the family name. Guy and his father had the kind of relationship where Guy fought against his father while constantly seeking his approval. For his father’s part—at least, this was how it appeared to Guy’s friends—he wanted his son to be subservient, dominating, and respectable. And byrespectableit was generally understood that this meant “behave appallingly, just don’t get caught.”
Three underkeepers had already left with a pack of short-haired pointers trotting at their heels. The pickers—the people who help with the retrieval of the shot birds—were already at the site.
Ameerah sidled up to Nory and maneuvered her away from the others.
“So, how did it go with the gardener? Did you get to play with his big hard telescope?”
Nory barked out a laugh before composing herself. “The one that looks at the stars, yes. If you’re being euphemistic, then no, no such luck. Apparently, the marquis doesn’t like the staff tofraternizewith the guests, and my brother hath forbade him to pursue me romantically.”
