I grinned. ‘The only real weakness I have is cowboys.’
‘Get me a hat and I can ride longer and harder than any cowboy.’
I laughed. A funny little flutter in my stomach.
He took a gulp of beer straight from his beer bottle and eyed me seriously. ‘What do you love, Tawny?’
I said the first thing that came into my head. ‘Horses, turtles, my shoes, oh, oh and I really love Christmas. Well, I suppose everybody does.’ I poured ketchup on the side of my plate.
He smiled. ‘Not me.’
My mouth dropped open. I had never met anyone who did not like Christmas. ‘Why? What’s not to like?’
He made a face. ‘The presents, the stupid decorations, the Christmas jingles, the dry turkey. Ugh. Everything. What do you like about it?’
‘The presents, the stupid decorations, the Christmas jingles, the dry turkey. Everything.’
‘Every Christmas I’d disappear off to Barbados or somewhere they don’t make such a fuss.’
‘Didn’t you even enjoy it as a child?’ I asked curiously.
‘No.’
‘Unbelievable. Christmas was such a special time when I was a child. My mama and I used to drive down to my grandma and granddaddy’s. It was so wonderful. We used to eat until we
couldn’t move. Then we’d sit in front of the TV and slowly my granddaddy would start farting. I can still remember the horrible smell of his sprout farts mixing with the Christmas
candles. Then mama and I would giggle when my grandma brought out the air freshener can and started blasting the room.’
He chuckled. ‘Well, if you want to celebrate Christmas when we are married, you can.’
I dipped a chip into the pool of ketchup at the side of my plate. ‘I was going to ask you, where will we live after we’re married?’
‘Well, for the first few months we’ll keep the present arrangement going, and then if you prefer living in the country you can move to Foxgrove Hall.’
‘What about Barrington House? Will I ever go back there again?’
His face hardened. ‘I’m afraid you won’t be able to live there for some time. I wouldn’t feel safe with you being so far away.’
We had apple pie and ice cream for dessert. The crust was golden and crunched satisfyingly when my spoon sliced through it. I put it into my mouth and Ivan was sitting back looking at
me.
‘Good?’ he asked.
‘Almost as good as my grandma’s,’ I said.
He looked at me curiously. ‘Robert told me you have no one.’
I put my spoon down, suddenly wary. ‘Yeah. That’s me. Little orphan Tawny.’
‘What happened to your parents?’
I took a deep breath. I was getting into dangerous territory here. No, lies, Tawny. You don’t have to reveal the truth but no lies. ‘My father left before I was born and my mother died
when I was seventeen.’
‘Robert also said that your mother passed away before you came to England.’
I sobered up. ‘Yeah, my mother died.’
‘You miss her very much, don’t you?’
I looked up at him and took a deep breath. A lump was forming in my throat. ‘Every day.’
His expression was serious. ‘I’m sorry, Tawny.’
‘Yeah, me too.’
‘What was she like?’ he asked softly.
‘When I was growing up my mama was amazing. She had read Paper Moon when she was a young girl and the main character’s mother used to paint her nails, and while they were drying she
spread her fingers out and waltzed around the room. My mama was so impressed by that, that she used to copy the action. If I close my eyes now I can see her floating about our trailer to
Celine Dion’s It’s All Coming Back To Me Now.’
I smiled with the memory.
‘She sounds sweet,’ he said.
‘She was. Every Saturday evening she used to lay me on the kitchen counter and wash my hair in the sink. Then she’d put rollers in at night, and then next morning just before we left the
house she’d blow a whole can of hair spray on it so I could go to Sunday church looking like a poodle.’
He laughed softly.
‘But she became sick and then it was horrible. I couldn’t bear to see her suffering. We didn’t have insurance and there was nothing I could do for her. After she died I lived in her car
for a few weeks.’
He looked at me horrified. ‘What did you after that?’
I looked down at my pie. I couldn’t remember the last time I opened up to someone like that. I couldn’t even blame the alcohol. I only had a few sips of my beer.
‘I came to England. I met Robert and the rest is history.’
He looked at me curiously. ‘So how on earth did you meet Robert?’
I shook my head. ‘I’d rather not talk about it.
For a second his eyes narrowed suspiciously. I stared at him steadily.
He looked at his watch. ‘You still up for The Dirty Aristocrat?’