Five: A Maor Novel (Maor series) (19 page)

Chapter
32

Guilt

Tastes like: The last piece
of decadent chocolate cake melting in your mouth when you look up and notice a child,
watching you.

Smells like: Cigarette burn
on your grandmother’s favourite couch.

Sounds like: Retreating
footsteps.

Feels like: Hot wax on your
skin.

Looks
like:
 
A child’s hands, hidden behind his
back when the teacher asks: ‘Who did it?’

It’s my worst nightmare come true. I’m the centre of attention as
Tristan’s mother shows me around the room, like some prized butterfly
specimen.
 
I put on my best smile and
greet each person politely, but my neck and cheeks are getting hotter and
hotter and it’s getting harder to stop myself from running to the beckoning,
breezy sliding doors to slip away from the crowd.

Tristan joins us at some point during the introductions, hands me a
wine glass and at my questioning look, whispers in my ear:

‘It’s just grapetizer.’ He puts one hand on my shoulder and squeezes
gently. ‘Don’t look so terrified.’

‘But why are they all staring at me?’ I whisper back.

‘Are you kidding? You’re the promised one! You’re the biggest thing
since the appointment of the
Tanistry
!’
Mrs. Westwood’s laughter tinkles around us and Tristan grimaces. ‘And mother is
just loving it…’

I glance around at the group of
Maor
clustered around us and then at his mother, preening beneath the crystal
chandeliers. Her head is tilted upwards and she is laughing at something one of
the royals has said. Even her laughter sounds fake to me.

‘But where is your cousin?’ I ask, ‘Isn’t this party for her?’

Tristan smiles ruefully. ‘She’s a baby, Shaylee. Besides, half of
the guests are only here because they heard you would be coming.’

He slides his arm around my waist and gives an encouraging squeeze.

‘Don’t look so scared. Lift your chin and go with it. You’re a
Maor
princess. Be proud of who you are.
Besides, it will all be over soon.’

I squeeze back, comforted by the warmth of his body and vaguely
aware of the tingling in my spine. I turn my attention and a mechanical smile
to the next guest Mrs. Westwood is introducing.
 

‘Good morning sleepyhead!’ Kent’s voice breaks through
my blissful slumber. I groan and bury my face beneath the pillow.

‘I’m starving,’ he says, ‘please can we go get some
breakfast?’

I pull the pillow away from my face and squint at him.

‘What time is it?’ I ask in a voice thick with sleep.
We’d been up till the early morning hours entertaining guests and I feel like
I’ve only just laid my head down.

‘It’s eight o’clock!’ he says brightly.

I groan again and fling one arm across my eyes.

‘You go ahead. I need to catch up on some z’s.’

‘But I can’t leave you alone!’

I peek out at Kent from under my arm.

‘Now you sound like your brother,’ I complain, and earn
myself a deep scowl. ‘I’m just going to sleep, Kent. What could possibly
happen?’

He starts to shake his head but then shrugs instead.

‘I guess you’re right,’ he says, ‘I’m going to the
dining room. See you later.’

The door clicks shut behind him and I snuggle back
beneath the covers with a satisfied grin. My satisfaction soon turns into
irritation though, as I toss and turn. Eventually, I give up trying to fall
asleep again, throw back the covers and peer out of the window.

The sky outside is a shade of gray similar to when we had
arrived, but without the drizzle. Below, cars come and go, dropping off
additional guests for the afternoon’s ceremony and I see a few couples
strolling through the rose gardens. I let my gaze drift beyond the gardens to
where the lawns slope into the forest.

Abbey manor is certainly a beautiful place…but I can’t
imagine living here. Would I be expected to live here if I marry Tristan? What
would I do every day? The thought of whiling away my days throwing parties and
having manicures like Mrs. Westwood, makes me want to run away – far, far away.
If I have to live forever, I want to spend it doing something worthwhile.

 
I shake my head
and flop down on my belly atop the unmade bed. What am I thinking? There’s no
way I’m settling for a life that has been chosen for me by the
Tanistry
– a bunch of strangers who
don’t even know me.

A light knock on the door interrupts my musings.

‘Come in!’ I call, pulling the white toweling hotel gown
around me before I turn toward the door.

‘I’m sorry, I thought you were up,’ Tristan says,
pausing just inside the doorway and turning back to leave. ‘I’ll just wait for
you down -’

‘No.’ I jump up from the bed and gesture for him to come
inside. ‘It’ll just take me a moment to dress, please sit.’

He nods and walks across the room to sit in the chair by
the window while I slip into the bathroom. I shower quickly and eye the bright
yellow thigh-length princess blouse and tights I’d packed to wear. After last
night’s party, I’m sure I will be under-dressed again, but aside from the black
number I’d packed for the ceremony, I have no other options.

I sigh and put on the outfit, add a dash of make-up,
twist my dripping hair into a haphazard knot at the back of my neck and then I
step into the bedroom where Tristan waits.

He stands and gives me an appreciative sweep with his
eyes. ‘You hungry?’

‘Not really,’ I reply. My stomach chooses that precise
moment to grumble loudly and blood rushes to my cheeks.

Tristan laughs. ‘Don’t feel like being the centre of
attention again this morning, hey?’

I grin sheepishly and nod.

‘I’ve got an idea,’ he says. ‘Wait here for fifteen
minutes and then meet me at the back entrance by the kitchen. Use the second
set of stairs down the hall.’ He winks at me and disappears out of the door,
without waiting for a response. I follow his instructions, thankful that I don’t
meet anyone else on the staircase.

When I emerge, Tristan grabs hold of my hand and pulls
me onto a nearby golf cart with a mischievous smile.

‘Where are we going?’ I ask but he just grins.

‘You’ll see.’

‘But shouldn’t I tell -’

‘You’ll be safe with me, I promise.’

We head off around the back of the manor in the
direction of a rustic out-building and as we near the white-washed stone structure,
I realize it is the stables.

‘Do you ride?’ Tristan asks.

I shake my head. ‘I’ve never tried.’

He grins. ‘Well, there’s a first time for everything.’

We stop at the entrance, where two saddled horses are chewing
lazily on a tuft of grass. Two stable-hands greet Tristan and assist me to
mount one of the two beasts. I bite my lip and pretend that sitting two feet
height on a live animal doesn’t scare me. Tristan gives me a few basic pointers
and promises that he’ll stay close and we won’t go far, then we head off at a
leisurely pace.

For the first few minutes, I’m too terrified of the
horse beneath me to notice anything else. While the mare I’ve been given to
ride is much smaller than the magnificent black beast that Tristan sits astride,
it is still a long way up.

After a while, I get the hang of it and begin to enjoy
the gentle movement of the horse beneath me. I let my tight hold of the reins
go a little and dare to lift my head.

Tristan leads us through the sparse copse of trees at
the back of the stables, over a low rise and out into a wide, green meadow
dotted with yellow wild-flowers. He twists in his saddle and points toward a
black stallion grazing near the far side of the meadow. ‘See that one?’ he
calls to me. ‘Just came in from Europe last week. Beauty, isn’t he?’

I turn my attention to the horse in question. His neck
is gracefully curved, like a swan’s, and his sleek coat makes me want to slide my
fingers down his muscled flank.
 

‘Do you breed them?’ I ask.

Tristan shakes his head. ‘No, but we do enjoy riding and
my parents have made somewhat of a hobby of collecting ex-race horses.’

He makes a clicking sound and guides our horses off toward
the other end of the meadow.
 

‘This is a good spot,’ he says, when he reaches a tall
pine tree on the edge of the clearing.

Tristan dismounts in one polished movement, catches the
reigns of my mount and steadies her so I can climb off. I eye him, without
moving and his face splits into another grin.

‘Just swing your leg over to this side and I’ll catch
you,’ he says, with a laugh, coming around to the side of the horse. I hesitate,
take a deep breath and brace my hands on his shoulders. He wraps his arms
around my waist and lifts me from the back of the animal. As my body slides
against his to the ground, it sets off a familiar tingling sensation. My eyes go
wide as my feet touch the ground and I look up into Tristan’s eyes, suddenly
very aware that his lips are just inches away from mine. He smiles, a little secret
smile, and steps back.

‘Help me spread this out, will you?’ he asks, pulling a
thick blanket from a bag, pretending as though nothing has happened.

‘Another picnic?’ I ask, still flushed.

‘Yes. Although this one was very last minute so don’t
expect too much.’ He gives me an almost apologetic glance. ‘I just thought it
would be the best way to fill your stomach and keep you away from all your
adoring fans at the same time.’

‘Oh, I think ‘adoring’ is a bit of a strong word, but
it’ll be nice to spend some quality time with you,’ I say, and bite my lip when
I register what I’ve said. Tristan gives me a surprised look and color rushes
to my cheeks, but I realize that my words ring true. I
do
enjoy spending time with him. While I’m confused and afraid at
times about the way he makes me feel, I really like being with him, and the
more time we spend together, the more time I
want
to spend with him. I give him a tentative smile and he returns
the gesture. We both shake out the blanket onto the springy meadow grass and
sprawl out onto its comfortable weave.

Brunch consists of flaky croissants, strong cheese, sweet
melon balls and salty crackers. I eat my fill, nibble on my last cracker and
lean back on the blanket so that my face is under the shade of the tree, while
my outstretched legs can soak up the snatches of sun that filter through the
gray clouds at intermittent intervals.

I let out a contented sigh and survey the peaceful
meadow.

‘This place is beautiful.’

‘Yes,’ Tristan agrees. His eyes move over the curve of
the land in a loving caress. ‘I always loved coming here during the holidays as
a child.’

I shift my gaze curiously to him.

‘You mean you didn’t live here?’

‘No, it’s too far out of town. We mostly stayed in the
townhouse so mother could be close to the law firm.’

‘Oh, then who takes care of this place?’

‘My dad, mostly, although we do have a care-taker and manager.’
Tristan’s gaze strays toward the edge of the meadow. ‘I think Dad was just glad
to get away from Mother.’ He flashes me a strained smile. ‘I’m sorry about last
night. Mother can be a little too much sometimes…’

‘It’s fine, really,’ I say awkwardly, and quickly change
the topic. ‘So do you enjoy working in the firm?’

Tristan rolls over onto on his side and gives me a
thoughtful look.

‘I didn’t at first,’ he admits, ‘It was Mother’s career
choice, not mine. But I’ve actually grown to love it. I try to avoid the
criminal cases – they’re more my mother’s cup of tea but I enjoy the
environmental cases. Guess it’s my
Maor
side coming out. We’ve managed to make a bit of a name for ourselves amongst
environmental groups since I started at the firm.’ He selects another cracker
from the open packet beside us. ‘I enjoy the cases that involve travel the most.’

He frowns and I get the sense that it’s more the
distance away from his mother that appeals to him. The two definitely have a
strained relationship.

‘I guess I’ll have to limit the travelling soon though,’
Tristan says.

‘Oh, why?’ I ask.

‘Well, the new firm offices in Lydney will require a lot
of my attention and besides,’ he reaches out and puts his hand over mine on the
blanket, ‘I think I’m going to want to stay close to my new bride.’

I look down at our hands, ever-amazed at the liquid
sunshine that shoots up from my fingers to my chest. I glance away to the
stallion at the other end of the meadow and bite my lip.

I don’t know how to feel about Tristan’s last comment, let
alone how to react, so I ignore it and focus on his previous sentence.