Page 59 of The Lawyer
I sigh lightly and shake my head, not wanting to push. “It doesn't.”
Silence drifts between us, but I’m less concerned, so grab the bottle of wine from the hamper and pour two glasses. We both sip and lounge, letting the words spoken resonate and sink in.
When the wine is drunk, he stands, takes my hand, and leads me on another trail around the gardens. The heat still builds despite it being late afternoon, and I whimsically follow wherever he leads. I couldn’t care for time here. The thought of leaving to go back home is bleak and troublesome in comparison. However, I can’t ignore the questions that plague my heart. It might have been a magical day in some ways. He's shared and I've seen more of Tallington Hall, even some of him maybe, but there's still a distance in him. Each time he's opened up, he's seemed to drift further away. For all I know, this could just be an elaborate goodbye.
The silence stretches as we trail more gardens, and my thoughts drift to my own concerns apart from him. Namely Jackson Reed. I know that I'll shatter any sense of peace Landon’s found here if I mention my problems at The Priory, and I also don’t want to tell him anything if he’s going to dismiss us as nothing but work colleagues. Not that this afternoon is showing me that, but this distance is …
“As much fun as this is, what are we doing here?” I ask.
He stops and turns back to look at me. “I really don’t know, Willow. I hate that you lied to me. It’s unforgivable. When people try lying to me in a courtroom, I destroy them, yet you’re still here.”
“You lied, too, Landon. I know what I did was deceitful, but don’t think it’s all on me. You wanted both Willow and Juniper. And I think you still do. You want both parts of me but wrapped up in a different package.”
“I never promised Willow fidelity. Your argument is flawed.”
“Juniper never touched you. My argument, if you want to call it that regarding fidelity, is sound.”
He smirks. God knows what at. We are not in a courtroom. “So, what do you propose, counsellor?”
“I can't give you a proposition unless I know what we are. You said this wouldn’t be more than sex. It feels more than that to me. Being here, talking with you. I want to think there could be something. But what about you?”
No answer. He just stands there looking at me as if weighing his options. It isn't until I begin turning away, almost accepting that the directness is too much for him, that I feel him grasp my arm. “I can’t have you dancing. If you want to keep doing that, then all of this stops here. I will not accept it.”
“Oh, an ultimatum. Jealous?”
“Yes. Extremely. And don’t play coy about it.”
“And what if I don’t want to dance at The Priory any more, but I still want to dance for you?” I hold my breath for him to respond. Everything is on the line in this conversation. I won’t hide or pretend. There’s been enough of that.
He pulls me closer to him until both his hands are on my arms, gentle fingers running softly against my skin. “I think that might be perfect.” Relief washes through me. At least with this, we might have a chance, but before I let myself fully indulge in the moment, I need one last thing answered.
“Can I ask if my job is safe? If I’m not dancing …”
“It’s safe, and will remain so regardless of your next answer, but I need to discuss something with you first.” I look up at him and wait, knowing there's nothing left in my closet that needs talking about. “I can't offer you any more than what we currently are, Willow. Being behind closed doors is where we'll stay. You need to acknowledge that and agree if you want anything between us past today.”
“You want to keep this as a secret affair only?”
“Not entirely the proposition I'm making, but yes, I won't share anything about us with the outside world unless I'm certain there's something worth sharing.” His fingers go under my chin, tipping it up to him. “This is your call, Willow, but those are my terms. There isn't any negotiation on them as yet.” His cool, blue eyes study me, perhaps looking for disappointment or anger. “So, counsellor, is that a deal we can make?”
I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m with him, and while some may describe my actions as settling for less, that’s not what’s in my heart. I've seen him letting me in today, sharing and having all the same reactions as a man who’s more involved than a casual fling. So, I can answer with confidence that I’ll take whatever he can offer me and hope that what I think is here grows between us both.
“Yes. But we have one other problem to deal with.”
And I don't know how to manage it alone.
Chapter Twenty One
LANDON
Roaming the quiet corridors eventually leads me to the gallery. I look up and around, my gaze scanning the portraits on show. We’re all here. Years of us. Grandfathers and grandmothers, great grandfathers and great grandmothers before that. I stop at one of my mother and father, looking over the stately composure of them both in some reminiscence of power. It’s true enough, I suppose. What is around me now has only grown in privilege and influence since he became the head of this family. When I acknowledge the email I received last night from the newest artist to paint for this family, my portrait will be here next.
“Landon?” I turn, looking at Derek as he comes into the space. “Will you and the young lady be staying another night?”
“No. We’re going back to London this morning.”
“Alright. I’ll let Betty know.”
I nod and walk towards the group of family paintings, part listening to the sound of his feet disappearing. “Derek?”
