Page 13 of Twin Flames
It would have been better to call and arrange a time with him. This was a bad idea; maybe she should give it a miss.
Despite her doubts, curiosity outweighed her foggy thinking and spurred her on across the rambling, cobbled streets.
Cara cut through one of the famous snickleways and arrived in The Shambles. A few steps along the old Tudor style street and number twenty stood before her. She took a deep breath and pushed the shiny, black door inwards. Before she could compose herself, George appeared.
She gulped. ‘Oh, hello. I hope you don’t mind. I came to see the manuscript. At the conference in Seville, I’ll be leading a break-out session about Tudor politics and the impact of HenryVIII, so I thought it would be helpful to study the manuscript before I go.’
Cara’s words gushed out in a torrent, before drying up, as her eyes rose slowly to meet his. She did her best to hide her embarrassment.
Stop talking, Cara.
Damn, it was a challenge to be cool. He undid her with his eyes.
His face lit up. She released a measured sigh of relief. It was obvious he was delighted to see her. Perhaps dashing over impulsively hadn’t been a huge mistake.
Smiling, he took her hand and drew her through the foyer and into a smart-looking visitor’s area which looked as though it was once the sitting room of the old Tudor residence.
Gold framed portraits of British monarchs adorned the walls and a giant oak bookcase lined one wall, from the bottom all the way up to the thick wooden beamed ceiling. Cara stared about her in awe.
‘What a fabulous room,’ she said. It was regal yet comfortable. There was a sense of continuity and stability. History enveloped her, and the effect was calming on her skittish soul.
‘This is a wonderful surprise! How lovely you came over. It’s lucky I’m still here. I was just about to leave for the market. Another couple of minutes and I’d have been gone,’ he said.
‘Is it a terribly busy time? I could come back.’
‘No, not at all. It wasn’t anything urgent; I can take care of it later.’
He was still holding her hand as if it was completely natural. His grasp was warm and firm on Cara’s smooth skin.
She drew her hand away, even though she loved the feel of it nestling in his. He didn’t seem concerned someone would see them.
Her face was slightly flushed. She’d never experienced such a tangle of emotions over someone she barely knew.
‘Would you like tea or coffee?’
Cara was grateful to latch on to normality in an attempt to regain her composure. George bounded over towards an espresso machine in the corner and beckoned for her to follow. She watched him prepare a latte for her and an espresso for himself. His hands were large and beautiful; like those of a sculptor or painter. An artist’s hands. She was mesmerised as she watched him perform the coffee ritual with precise movements.
Sipping her coffee a few minutes later, she stared into his dark eyes, drinking him up. He was even more attractive than she remembered, not classically good looking, but striking; with a roman nose and full lips. She was amazed once again to notice he had such an impact on her just by his proximity.
It was his presence which left her reeling each time they met. His face was like that of a dear, beloved friend but paradoxically also exotic and alluring. Her skin tingled at the thought of his large, beautiful hands moving over her body.
‘Cara?’
She blinked.
‘Sorry, yes I was miles away! It’s been a hectic morning at the office. The coffee is excellent by the way. Thanks so much. I keep meaning to buy one of these machines,’ she garbled.
George guided her through to the back of the building to a neat, spacious workshop. They stopped before an impressive gold-rimmed display cabinet.
‘This is the home of theTudor Kings’ Manuscript. Let’s put some gloves on, and I’ll pull it out for you to examine more closely.’
He extracted two packets of plastic gloves from a tiny drawer built into the maple wood counter.
In spite of the butterflies catapulting around her stomach, she was thrilled at the prospect of seeing the five-hundred-year-old manuscript.
George carefully removed the manuscript from the cabinet and lay it across the worktop. A cloud of dust shimmered in the air above them, and Cara sneezed. The sudden, loud noise seemed to spur them into a buzz of professional chit chat.
‘Look at the handwriting. It’s a work of art all of its own,’ said George.
