Could she incorporate the evolution of her drawings into the story? Start the colours softer and, as the story went on, let them increase in vibrancy?
It was unlike her normal style, but it was an idea.
Something about the freshness of it all excited her. Whilst she loved her work it had been a while since the creativity had given her the kind of squirming thrill in her belly when things justworked. She added a few butterflies to her sketch. Bright little bursts of colour. Like the butterflies flitting about in her stomach right now, bouncing about like popping candy. Though that might have less to do with her drawing and more with something else.
Matteo was going to show her abeach.
She’d seen them in photographs, of course, as a teenager when scouring the vast library of Easton Hall. So many glorious books, most age appropriate and some, well, not so much. Great-Uncle Gerald had had a diverse collection and she’d found quite a stash of erotica when she’d gone searching. She looked over at the beige covered sketchbook in her pile containing the drawings she did, just for herself. Her nightmares so they lost their hold. Her fantasies. The pictures no one would ever see...
A sharp knock sounded at the door, and she jumped. Those butterflies in her belly flapping about as if caught in a strong gust of wind.
‘Come in.’
Matteo sauntered inside and her breath hitched. He’d changed into something more casual. Shorts, showing his legs. The strong calves sprinkled with dark hair. Another polo shirt that gripped him in all the right places. The whole of her flushed hot. She was sure that she’d gone a bright shade of pink, and that realisation made her skin burn even hotter.
She’d never really noticed men before. There were men who worked on the estate, but most of them had been with Mae for years and were much older. There was a young man in the grocer’s in the village who had a nice smile when she walked through the door. But he didn’t make her blush. He didn’t make her breathless. He wasn’t this elemental force like Matteo. A whirlwind she wanted to be swept away by.
Where had that thought come from?
‘Are you ready, or do you still need more time?’
As Matteo walked towards her she closed her sketch pad. Something about him seeing what she did made her feel vulnerable. She drew pictures for children’s books whereas he ran a global company worth...she didn’t know how much, but a man who had a private jet and houses all over the world must be doing very well for himself.
‘No, I’m ready.’
From the clothes Matteo had organised for her there was nothing she’d selected that looked at all beachy so her dress would have to do. She took off her glasses and left them on the drawing board before they headed out of the house, down a paved pathway towards the lake. Passing pots overflowing with a riot of flowers. Petunias. Geraniums. Bougainvillea. The place so unlike her cool green home. Everything here somehow...supercharged.
Hyper-real.
‘Do you stay at this house often?’
She had so many questions. Even though you could search for him online, it really didn’t tell her much about the man. All she knew was from that brief summer as children and her conversations with Mae. How well he’d done. How he and his family didn’t get along. But she was sure there was so much more to him. She just didn’t know why she wanted to know it all.
Matteo shrugged. ‘Not really. Not anymore.’
He’d walked ahead a little, his long powerful stride making her scurry to catch up, though she couldn’t really complain. This way she could get a glimpse of his broad shoulders, how well his shorts fitted, moulding to his body. Was it objectifying? She wasn’t sure. Did he do the same to her? Even the thought he might made her cheeks heat.
‘What made you stop?’
He slowed his steps so she could catch up. ‘Circumstance. Business. I don’t stay anywhere for long.’
Not having any real place to call home, no matter how beautiful the surroundings, seemed surreal to her. ‘I can’t imagine travelling around all the time.’
‘I can’t imagine not. You can make the world as large or as small as you want. I prefer mine large.’
‘Is that like saying, “You need to get out more, Louisa”?’
He chuckled and she loved the sound of it. Warm, rolling with a twist of wickedness. The way it made her tingle, want to curl up her toes in her shoes. He turned to her, smiled. That smile was like a mouthful of hot chocolate on a winter’s day. Rich, decadent. Addictive.
‘I am.’
People had tried before, even Mae. So many not understanding why she was happy to live in Easton Hall. No one could comprehend her past, how a stable home was everything she’d ever wanted. How much she owed to Mae. The woman had given up years of her life to look after a broken teenager. It was the least Louisa could do, to give up some years of her life looking after Mae in return.
What drove Matteo to remain constantly on the move? There had to be something behind it. Wasn’t it normal to seek a home, to have a retreat, a singular place to stay? Though she supposed he made retreats all over the world. That was his business, what he did. Homes away from home for the rich and famous, when he didn’t personally have one he called his own.
They rounded a corner following a manicured path through a small copse of trees, which then opened onto an expanse of grass with the magnificent lake beyond.
‘Almost there,’ Matteo said as he began to walk a little faster, almost as if he was excited. She picked up her pace to keep up with him. After a short distance the path led to a tiled terrace with a balustrade overlooking the lake. Stairs, down to the water.
