CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WAS THE nicest evening Sky could remember.
Dinner was delicious, the conversation lively and afterward they all gathered in the living room. With its exposed beams and blazing log fire, it was warm and cozy.
There were books everywhere, she noticed. Not just crammed into the floor-to-ceiling bookcases, but stacked on tables, markers in the pages. Books that weren’t there for display, but to be read and talked about. Part of life, not an artful piece of decoration.
Suzanne was obviously enjoying having a house full of people. “Charades, Sky?”
She turned. “Sure. I love charades.”
They split into teams. She, Liv and Alec’s mother on one team versus Alec and his father and uncle. She threw herself into it, acting, miming and indulging her dramatic side.
They won easily, but not before Sky found herself laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe.
Why didn’t they play this at home?
She dismissed the thought instantly. Not even after a few glasses of champagne could she imagine her parents, or even her brothers, suspending dignity long enough to play charades.
Alec was sprawled in front of the fire, long legs stretched out in front of him, watching her from under those thick, dark lashes.
His scrutiny made her uncomfortable.
She was well aware that their relationship had altered in subtle ways. They were locked in a strange, indefinable intimacy while at the same time being virtual strangers.
Whenever they’d met in the past, he’d left her feeling like a cat whose fur had been stroked the wrong way. She’d felt judged and feeling that way had stoked her resentment, but she knew she’d been guilty of judging him, too. She’d dismissed him as a hardened cynic but after twenty-four hours in his company, she knew differently.
She also had more questions than she had answers.
There was no doubt that his divorce had been bitter and acrimonious and that the experience had sharpened the edges of his cynicism.
There were plenty of family photographs placed around the warm, friendly living room, but none of Alec’s wife. With the exception of his grandmother, the family tiptoed round the subject, as if they were dealing with a grenade with the pin removed.
Glancing at the photo on the mantelpiece, she saw a boy of about twelve wearing a determined expression as he hauled himself up a rock face.
“That was taken in Wengen, Switzerland, near the Eiger.” Intercepting her glance, Alec’s father lifted it from the shelf. “Do you remember that trip, Alec?”
“Of course. It’s not easy to forget a trip where we both nearly died. That was one of my earliest lessons in survival.”
Suzanne put her hands over her ears. “I’m not listening. I’m better off not knowing.”
“The weather changed,” Simon murmured. “I had to make a decision about whether to descend or bivouac overnight. I decided we’d be safer staying put until morning.”
Alec held out his hand for the photo. “The snow was so heavy we had to dig our way out of the tent in the morning.”
“And there was a perfect blue sky.” Simon handed him the photo. “We went on climbing expeditions every summer until Harry seduced you over to the dark side.”
Sky glanced between them. “The dark side?”
“The sea.” Suzanne poured coffee and passed round the cups. “Harry was a marine. Whenever he was home on leave, he’d take Alec sailing and diving. You’d think that would have given me less to worry about, but instead of scaling mountains in snowstorms they were exploring wrecks in the deep, dark ocean.”
Harry grinned, unrepentant. “I take full responsibility for Alec’s chosen career path. Forget Oxford and Harvard—the outdoors is the best classroom in the world.”
It was like watching a team sport being played.
Family life.
They passed the ball and worked together.