Thoroughly Whipped

“It has?”

Harry nodded and stared down at our clasped hands. “I cannot deny who I am. And more than that, I think, when all the layers are stripped away, I actually like who I am.”

“Then that makes two of us.”

Harry kissed my hand and lowered it to his leg. “I am proud I’m going to be a duke one day, Faith. I am proud to be of this Sinclair line. But I told my father there had to be changes.” His voice switched from soft to stern. “After us…after everything…I knew things had to be different. And I had to be the one to make it happen.”

“You did?” I was too afraid to ask what those changes were.

“Come,” Harry said, getting to his feet. “I have more to show you. Then we’ll have lunch in the gazebo.”

“Who are you?” I laughed, feeing like I was in a dream.

He pulled me closer and cupped my cheeks just like I loved. “Harry. Just Harry.” I waited for a kiss, but it didn’t come.

Harry held my hand and led me to the stables. By the time evening rolled around, I had seen all of Harry’s favorite rooms and sights on his land. He left me at my room with a promise to see me at dinner.

I wore a long red dress and heels. And I kept my hair down, just how he liked it. I wore my favorite red lipstick and walked to the great dining hall. I had caught a quick glimpse earlier in the day, but as the doors opened, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was adorned with paintings, tapestries, and sculptures, and in the center of the room there was a table so big it looked like it could have held a banquet for a hundred people. It almost blocked my view of Harry, at the fireplace, turned away from me with his hands behind his back. He faced me, his lips parting, when he saw me in my dress.

I held out my arms. “You like?”

“Very much,” he said with a tight throat. He kissed my cheek, and I admired him too.

“Very handsome,” I said and took a drink he had waiting for me. “Wine,” I said with relief. “As much as I love champagne, I couldn’t take another drop. I’m a wine cooler and beer kind of girl, you know?”

“Shall we?” Harry held out his hand and led me toward the table. On the way, I went over on my heel, the wine spilling on the carpet.

“Shit!” I turned to Harry. “Please tell me that wasn’t some priceless antique.”

Harry shrugged. “Just a few centuries old, that’s all.” He leaned in closer, and I almost fucking whimpered at his addictive scent and how it made my thighs clench. “It has survived two world wars and the house fire of 1819, but I’m afraid it has succumbed to the klutziness of one Faith Maria Parisi.”

“Harry!” I said, distressed, my hands on my head. “Is it really that old?”

“No. Just over one hundred. But honestly, in this place, that’s practically brand new.” We approached the table. Harry pointed to the other end. “You are seated down there, and me up here.” He pointed to another seat. I counted the chairs in between. There were thirty.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“No,” Harry said with a completely straight face.

When his lips hooked up into a small smile, I shook my head. “Oh, you’re full of the jokes tonight.”

“For now.” He led me to the place he had declared was his and pulled out the chair beside him for me. “Let’s eat, and then we can talk.”

A cave burrowed in my gut. Since I had arrived here yesterday, everything between us had been perfect. But no matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t get rid of the elephant in the room. I needed him to explain about Maître and NOX and everything in between, and I needed to apologize for my part too.

“So, what are we having?” I asked, trying to push the heavy stuff aside until after dinner.

“Roasted quail with cabbage.”

“Lovely!” I said, immediately dying inside. I was famished and needed real friggin’ food. But when the dishes came, and the dome was lifted —“Tortelli de Zucca,” I said, seeing my favorite dish on my plate.

“I thought we’d leave the quail for another night.”

I covered Harry’s hand with my own and squeezed. “I knew you were a good man underneath.”

We ate and made small talk. When the coffee had been drunk and the dishes cleared away, Harry led me to the now-lit fire and poured me a glass of whiskey. I sat beside him on the couch.

Silence stretched between us until Harry said, “Faith. Please allow me to explain. Explain everything.”

“Okay,” I said, the warm glow from the fire not staving off the chill in my bones.