Chapter 102: Gave The Tour

Cecilia

"Arthur," I breathed, and his hands tightened on my hips, holding me still. "I’m still on my period, and I’m so upset. I want to feel you."

"Not yet," he said, though his voice was strained with the effort of control. "I just want to enjoy this. Enjoy you."

"All night," I agreed, and settled more comfortably against him, my head resting on his shoulder, his arms wrapped securely around me.

We stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other in the warm water, the candles burning low around us and the sound of the ocean drifting through the partially open window.

The night is already deep by the time we finally emerged from the bath, both of us pruned and relaxed and thoroughly content.

I pulled on one of Arthur's t-shirts—it hung to my mid-thigh and smelled like him, and I saw his eyes darken with possessive satisfaction when he saw me in it.

"That's mine," he said, his voice rough.

"I know." I smiled up at him innocently. "Is that a problem?"

"Not even a little bit."

"Good." I climbed into bed with a laugh, settling against the pillows with a contented sigh.

Arthur joined me a moment later, pulling me close so my back was pressed against his chest, his arm draped over my waist, his face buried in my hair.

The sound of the sea at dawn is sobering. I heard the commotion in the entrance hall—Alice's voice carrying up the stairs, bright and excited, followed by Arthur's quiet response.

I was still in my bathrobe, when I made my way downstairs to find Alice practically bouncing on her toes in the foyer, her overnight bag slung over one shoulder.

"Ceci!" She spotted me on the stairs and her face lit up. "Oh my god, this place is even more incredible than I imagined!"

I laughed and hurried down the last few steps to pull her into a hug. "You're here!"

"We're here." She squeezed me tight, then pulled back to look at me properly. "You look good. Happy. Like actually happy, not just pretending."

"I am happy," I said, and meant it completely.

Max appeared behind her, carrying what looked like enough luggage for a month-long stay rather than a few days. He nodded at me with that characteristic brevity of his. "Cecilia."

"Max." I smiled at him. "Thanks for coming."

"Wouldn't miss it." His eyes found Arthur, who was standing near the door with his hands in his pockets, watching us with that slight smile.

The two men sized each other up for a moment—not hostile, exactly, but definitely measuring—before Max broke into a grin and extended his hand. "Let's try not to kill each other this week, yeah?"

Arthur took it, his own smile widening slightly. "I'll do my best."

Mrs. Chen appeared from the direction of the kitchen, already moving into efficient hostess mode. "Miss Alice, Mr. Reynolds, welcome to Black Peak Estate. Let me show you to your rooms—"

"Actually," Arthur cut in smoothly, "I was hoping to steal Max for a bit. There's something I wanted to show him down at the boathouse."

Max's eyebrows rose. "The boathouse?"

"Trust me." Arthur was already moving toward the door. "You'll want to see this."

I watched them go, Arthur leading Max out through the French doors toward the cliff path, and felt Alice sidle up beside me.

"What's that about?" she asked.

"No idea." But I was smiling. "Probably some kind of male bonding ritual."

"Forget them. " Alice looped her arm through mine. "So, now that we're alone—give me the tour. I want to see everything."

"Everything?" I laughed. "Alice, this place has like thirty rooms."

"Then we better get started." She was already pulling me toward the grand staircase. "Come on, I want to see where you grew up, where you and Arthur—" She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "You know."

Heat flooded my face. "Alice!"

"What? I'm just saying, this place has got to be full of stories. Spill."

I gave her the tour, showing her through the main rooms—the library with its floor-to-ceiling shelves and the reading nook where I'd spent countless afternoons, the music room with its collection of instruments that no one really played anymore, the glasshouse with its grand piano and the ghost of last night's fireworks still lingering in my memory.

Alice oohed and aahed over everything, asking questions about the artwork and the furniture and whether that was really an original Monet in the hallway.

Finally, we ended up in my old bedroom, and Alice immediately made herself at home, flopping onto the bed with a satisfied sigh.

"This is nice," she said, looking around at the pale blue walls and the window seat. "Very you. Or very teenage you, I guess."

"It was my sanctuary." I sat down beside her. "When everything felt overwhelming, I'd come here and hide."

"And Arthur would come find you," Alice said knowingly.

"Always." The memory made me smile.

I was still laughing when there was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Chen appeared with her usual perfect timing.

"Miss Locke, Miss Alice—Mr. Winston asked me to let you know he's waiting for you both down at the beach. He said to tell you it's important."

Alice and I exchanged glances.

"The beach?" I asked.

"That's what he said, miss." Mrs. Chen smiled. "He seemed quite pleased about something."

"Well." Alice stood and offered me her hand. "I guess we better go see what your fiancé is up to."

We made our way down through the gardens, following the stone path that wound through the rose beds and down the cliff stairs to the private beach below. The ocean was calm today, the water a deep blue-green that sparkled in the sunlight, and I could hear voices carrying up from the sand.

As we rounded the final curve of the path, the beach came into view, and I stopped dead.

The entire stretch of sand was covered in blue roses.