The Bad Boy Wants Me(128)

A sommelier appeared with a bottle of wine. After the usual fluffing around that they inevitably do in fancy restaurants, he poured it out into our glasses.

‘To our wedding,’ Ivan said, holding his glass aloft.

‘To our wedding,’ I echoed and took a sip. It was dry with subtle tones that I was too nervous to note.

Another waiter came to the table. He placed a plate with a selection of canapés in the middle of the table and started to explain what they were, but his accent was so thick I only picked up random words, tomato, snow crab puree, caramelized onion …’

Satisfied that he had done his job, he bowed from the neck and made himself scarce.

I leaned forward, my hand accidentally pushed one of the knives: it clattered onto the glass-like floor. Without music the noise of its landing was exaggerated and heads turned in our direction. I felt myself flush.

‘Sorry,’ I apologized awkwardly, and I was about to bend and pick up the knife when he leaned forward and caught my hand.

‘For what?’ he asked, a frown making his eyebrows come together in a straight line. A waiter was already picking the knife up.

‘For being so clumsy,’ I said, winching inwardly.

‘Social etiquette is how the moronic silence the intelligent. What does it matter if you drop your knife, or eat with the wrong fork? Don’t ever apologize for such things again.’

I stared at him. How wonderful to be born in a class where you don’t have to emulate anyone. Anything you do is seen as wonderful simply because of your bloodline.

As if he had read my mind he said, ‘I was very rebellious when I was growing up and I hated being a Lord. My heroes were all anti-establishment figures. To my mother’s horror I put up a massive poster of Gandhi in my room. She thought he was a ridiculous, half-naked fakir, but I admired him because he refused to allow anyone to make him feel he was less because of his color, descent, or traditions. I loved that he came to England to meet his colonial masters dressed in rags.’

He flashed a cheeky smile. ‘I can imagine how infuriating it must have been for them.’

‘You said you hated it when you were young. So you don’t hate it anymore.’

‘Well, I acted up a lot when I was a kid. I did the most outrageous things, but no matter what I did, I was always forgiven because of who I was. And in the end I thought if people were going to be stupid enough to put me on a pedestal simply because of an unearned title, who was I to pull myself off it? I milked it for all it was worth.’

I laughed.

‘What’s funny?’ he asked.

‘It’s funny how you and I are from the exact opposite ends of the spectrum. When I first came to this country I tried, without much success, to fit into the very society that you tried without much success to escape from.’

He looked at me. ‘Don’t let anyone change you, Tawny. You were always beautiful. There was not one thing about you that needed to be changed.’

I looked carefully at him to see if he was taking the piss out of me, but he was sincere.

‘I thought you didn’t like country bumpkins,’ I said lightly.

He grinned. ‘What are you talking about? I adore country bumpkins. I secretly even like that twangy American accent that you arrived with.’

‘I can still talk like that,’ I said, returning to my old way of talking and letting go of everything Robert had taught me. It felt good to talk like that again. When I first came I didn’t want to be the one with the funny accent. I wanted to belong so I tried to change to suit my environment, but maybe I didn’t need anybody’s approval anymore.

I could talk like them, I just didn’t want to anymore.

‘That’s more like the glorious Tawny I first met,’ he said and grinned at me. An open boyish grin that took my breath away. Wow! It hit me then, that despite all my efforts to keep him at arms length, I was crazy about this guy. I always had been. From the first moment I laid eyes on him I wanted him, but he had always looked at me with such cold, disapproving eyes. I was forced to hide my feelings even from myself. I did not hate him. Far from it.

His eyes narrowed. ‘What?’

I shook my head and reached for my wine glass. ‘Nothing.’

‘Sure?’

‘Yes,’ I said. No way was I telling him that he was my man crush. I leaned forward. ‘What would happen if we left now?’

‘We’d be still hungry?’ he said, one eyebrow raised.

‘No, I mean if we left this place and went and got a juicy cheeseburger instead.’

He leaned back in his chair. ‘You want a cheeseburger?’

‘With fries.’

He clasped his hands and stared at me. ‘With fries,’ he echoed.