Page 10 of Is This Real or Just Pretend?

Usually Alex rose with the dawn, as it was far easier to get things done without her mother, sisters, or even her father interrupting every few minutes.

Apparently no one in the Atkinson household could make their own mundane decisions, or remember who had come to supper last month, or when the British Museum opened.

At times she wondered if they coordinated who would approach her in which order, but it seemed far more likely they were simply unaware, as they all seemed quite surprised when she inevitably grew snappish from their constant demands.

Everyone always wanted something from her, but no one ever concerned themselves with what she wanted.

But today she rubbed her bleary eyes, retrieved her pocket watch from the bedside table, and sat up with a start.

Goodness, it was nearly nine o’clock. But then, she had retired much later than usual.

Before she could think better of it, her duplicitous mind conjured the image of Lucien Taylor in the summer house with his hazel eyes fixed upon her as he leaned in close.

Tell me the terms again.

A shiver ran down her spine at the memory, just as it had last night.

For one ridiculous moment, Alex had actually thought he would kiss her, and in the resultant confusion, she blurted out that he should take the night to think things over.

It was a terrible negotiation tactic, and a hot flush washed over her at the amateur blunder.

Of course he didn’t want to kiss her. But far more important, the more time someone had to think over a deal, the more they asked for.

Alex shook her head, but Lucien’s inviting image stubbornly lingered.

She let out a sigh and flopped back onto the pillows.

There was nothing to be done about it. She had no leverage in this situation and must give him whatever he wanted.

Her only concession was that Lucien didn’t know just how desperate she was to make this work.

After indulging in another moment of indolence, Alex forced herself out of bed. If she hurried, she could nip downstairs for a light breakfast and head to Father’s study before the rest of the household even began to stir. She needed some time to herself. Time to think.

After washing up, Alex donned a light blue day gown and arranged her hair in a simple Psyche knot. It was more untidy than she preferred, but this was a country morning, not an afternoon meeting in London. Here she did not need to prove her acumen to a roomful of arrogant men.

The thought was strangely depressing. Usually Alex loved any opportunity to subvert expectations, but today she only felt tired. Perhaps because after spending the last seven years doing just that, it still wasn’t enough.

You’ll feel better after you eat , she reasoned.

But as she headed for the stairs, the weariness only grew until it felt like something far more than a simple bowl of porridge could fix.

After gulping down a cup of black coffee in the breakfast room, Alex impulsively decided to pocket a warm crumpet and head directly outside.

As she stepped onto the back terrace, the strange ennui began to slowly dissipate.

The morning was bright and the air was crisp with the faint scent of early autumn, which she inhaled by the lungful.

Back in London she would have already been at her desk for at least an hour, if not more. For once, she was glad not to be there.

Alex wandered past her mother’s tidy flower beds toward the ancient forest that surrounded the property.

As she walked along the footpath that wound through the woods, she idly chewed on pieces of crumpet and forced herself not to think of work.

Unfortunately, that didn’t leave much else to ruminate on.

Other than Lucien, of course , offered the cheeky voice in her head.

No. He is also categorized under work.

Alex then smiled to herself, as Lucien might object to that description. But before she could pursue this dangerous line of thinking any further, Alex glanced up and came to a halt.

Though she didn’t have any particular destination in mind, it was still something of a surprise to find herself on the path that led to the pond.

She hadn’t been over this way in many years but was gripped by a sudden urge to sit on the mossy bank and look out over the tranquil water.

As this morning seemed to be made for frivolity, she decided to follow the impulse and walked faster.

She rounded the bend just someone was emerging from the pond—a naked someone. Without thinking, she ducked behind a tree just off the path and prayed she hadn’t been spotted. The rough bark dug into her back, but she would have given anything to melt completely into the surface at this moment.

It was a man. Probably some local farmhand, as the pond was a popular swimming spot with the villagers.

Alex slowly peered out from behind the tree.

Only a few yards away stood the man. He faced the water and was leisurely wrapping a towel around his lean waist. As he was obviously occupied with drying himself, now was the perfect opportunity to sneak away.

But just as she resolved to run off, something caught her eye.

The man appeared to have a tattoo on his upper left shoulder.

She squinted, trying make it out, when she noticed the small gold hoop glinting in the early morning light amid the strands of wet, golden brown hair clinging to his neck.

As a droplet of water slid down between his well-formed shoulders, her breath caught in recognition.

Oh God. The man wasn’t some farmhand. It was Lucien .

Alex quickly darted back behind the tree just as he turned around.

If he saw her now, she would never recover.

And he certainly wouldn’t want anything to do with her.

Not when it looked like she was spying on him!

Alex peeked around the tree as far as she dared.

His back was to her once more while he now dried his hair with the towel—which left the rest of him entirely uncovered.

She forced her gaze away from his bare backside and muttered a curse.

This situation was growing worse by the second.

She needed to get out of here. Now. With great care, she took a step, then another.

But every dried leaf and twig underfoot sounded as loud as an elephant crashing through the jungle.

Perhaps it was better if she just made a run for it and hoped he couldn’t tell it was her.

But just as Alex took a lunging step forward, the hem of her dress snagged on a jagged branch sticking out of the ground and she fell to her knees in a loud crunch.

She froze in terror and in the silence that followed, Alex was able to delude herself into believing that, actually, she hadn’t been that loud.

Then, the blissful moment came to an end.

“Is someone there?” Lucien’s sharp voice rang out through the forest.

Alex snapped to attention and began to furiously tug on her skirt, but the blasted thing wouldn’t come loose. She glanced back to see that Lucien was pulling on his trousers and cursed again. Then pulled harder.

“Show yourself!” he bellowed, now throwing on his shirt.

She decided to rip the hem to free herself and was very nearly there when Lucien stormed over, an impressive look of menace on his face. But once he registered who she was, the menace turned into shock.

“Miss Atkinson?”

Alex cleared her throat and slowly came to her feet, trying her best to look unperturbed. As if this was a perfectly normal situation that she was entirely in control of.

“I think you can call me Alex now.”

Lucien only stared back at her, dumbfounded.

He hadn’t buttoned the shirt. Or put on shoes. Alex dearly wished she didn’t know how shapely his chest was.

Or his backside, for that matter.

Alex pursed her lips as she tried to marshal her ridiculous thoughts, then decided it would have been far better to have left her skirt entirely behind if it meant she could have avoided this conversation.

“I’m sorry,” she said with all the formality she could muster. “I didn’t mean to intrude on you. Truly. I was taking a walk and decided to come to the pond.”

“Of course,” he replied with a confused frown. “I didn’t think anyone would—”

“There’s no need to explain yourself,” Alex said haltingly as she tried to look anywhere but at him.

He really should button his shirt.

Lucien appeared to have the same thought as he glanced down. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said as he turned away and began to button his shirt.

“I should go.”

But he threw her a look over his shoulder. “Please don’t.”

Alex cleared her throat. “Fine.”

Then she clasped her hands against her waist and averted her gaze while he hurriedly buttoned his shirt.

After a few painfully awkward moments, he finished. “There. Much better.”

Then he swiftly bent down and freed her hem with embarrassing ease.

“Thank you,” she murmured as he stood.

“Not a problem,” he said. “No need to ruin a perfectly good dress.”

Alex could have sworn his gaze darted over her figure. But that was absurd.

“I’d rather have my pride, actually,” she admitted.

To her astonishment, he smiled. “That makes two of us, I suppose.”

Alex pressed her hands against her eyes as she suddenly blushed. “Oh God, I’m so embarrassed.”

Lucien chuckled. “It’s all right. Really. It’s nice to know even you can bungle things up now and then. It makes you seem more…”

Alex dropped her hands and arched a brow. “Human?”

It would hardly be the first time someone questioned her sentience.

But Lucien ignored her dry tone and gave her a thoughtful look. “I was going to say approachable.”

“Oh.” That felt worse, somehow.