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Fraser meets her gaze openly, though, and gives a small smile.
“Can’t you read?” Isabel asks, her voice sharp. “The sign states that this part of the house is private.”
“Oops,” Fraser says.
I glare at him, then give her a sheepish, apologetic look. “We’re very sorry. We got… er… carried away. I’m so sorry for intruding—that was unforgivable.” I glare at Fraser. He doesn’t look at me. He continues to look at Isabel, clearly unrepentant.
She looks at me, then back at him. To my surprise, her lips curve up, just a little. Fraser’s match them—he thinks she’s amused. But her eyes hold no humor at all.
“I could ask you to leave,” she says, “but my father spoke very fondly of you, and I don’t want to mar the day. Please return to the garden. If I discover you’ve trespassed again, I won’t be so forgiving the next time.”
“Of course,” I mumble, because Fraser obviously isn’t going to apologize. I stride across the room, along the corridor, turn toward the back of the house, and head outside, hoping Fraser is following.
In the garden, people are taking their seats with their full plates, and nobody pays any attention to me as I make my way back to the food stations. I collect a plate and scoop some salad and pasta onto it, then return to my seat at Wiremu’s table. A waiter asks whether I’d like champagne or something else, and I gratefully accept a flute, drinking half of it in one go.
Fraser has finally exited the house, and he walks slowly down the steps and across to the food stations as if he owns the place. I would never have considered him arrogant, but when I think about his amusement on being found out, I realize just how this guy is leagues above me. I don’t think his family are billionaires or anything, but they’re certainly wealthy. It’s not just about money, though. Were we in Britain, he would have been upper class. He’d have gone to Eton, then Oxford or Cambridge to discuss history and archaeology over port in wood-paneled dining halls. He’d have belonged to an exclusive gentlemen’s club in Mayfair, the sort that has velvet armchairs,fine cigars, and traditions that go back centuries. He’d have spent summer in the South of France, and drank champagne on a yacht in Saint-Tropez, or gone to polo matches and rubbed shoulders with royalty while he sipped Pimm’s on the sidelines.
His comportment, his attitude, his education, are all super classy.
Going down on me in the bathroom during a public event is somewhat less so.
Oh my God.
I lean my forehead on a hand, dying a little inside. I can’t believe Isabel knows what we did. Oh shit, she probably heard me, too, because I wasn’t quiet. Ahhh…
Next to me, Fraser puts his plate on the table and takes his seat, brushing against my arm as he does so.
“Great spread,” Wiremu says.
“Terrific,” Fraser replies. “I’ve worked up a real appetite. No idea why.”
“Oh my God,” I mumble, my face burning.
I hear him give a short laugh, and then feel him press against my arm. The smell of his cologne fills my nostrils as he leans close. “Are you all right, Princess?”
I like the endearment, but I’m not going to let him charm me like that. “No. I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t worry. I told her it was all my fault.”
“Good, because it was.”
“I don’t recall you pushing me away.”
“Shut up.”
He chuckles. “She’s a woman of the world—she doesn’t care.”
I look at him then. He’s smiling, his eyes sparkling. He’s so incredibly handsome.
“Don’t you realize?” I’m angry that he hasn’t guessed. “She’s going to tell Whina Cooper.”
His smile fades slowly. “What?”
“She doesn’t like you, Fraser. When she smiled, it wasn’t out of amusement. She’s realized that if she gets you in trouble, you’ll have to drop the claim on the letters.”
He stares at me, and I can see the truth sinking in slowly like a stone thrown into a vat of honey.
I look back at my food. “I can’t believe we were so foolish.” Tears prick my eyes. “It was such a stupid thing to do. We were so close, and that one slip has threatened everything.” Because of course, not only are the letters at stake, but our positions at the museum. Whina has warned him that if he has a relationship with someone at work again, she’s going to fire him. Am I really going to be the reason he loses his job? Shame and disappointment lodge in my gullet like a stone, and I stare at my food, knowing there’s no way I can eat anything.