Chapter Thirty-nine

Four months later

ARCHER

"Fucking peacocks. " Ollie buried his head under the pillow. "Why did no one warn me how loud they are?"

"They're probably still mad at you for stalking them to scavenge tail feathers," I told him.

He rolled over and blinked up at me where I was pulling my jeans on. "But they're for fastening to pens so they can be sold as quills to kids. It'll help pay for their food. The peacocks' food, not the kids'."

Today would be the first time we had our shop open. We'd cleared out one of the old stable buildings, and now it was equipped with purpose-built shelving, displaying a small range of items—my ironwork, the peacock pens, and Ollie had done deals with a few locals to sell locally produced soap, honey, and jams. He was insistent we had a decent range of cheap gifts for kids to buy. As a result, our fridge was now decorated with magnets bearing pictures of the house, the folly, the maze, and Ollie's favourite, the one that proclaimed I survived Talbot Court Maze.

"I'm having that made into a t-shirt," he said when he unpacked the box they came in. After rather too many abortive attempts, Ollie had finally learned the path through the maze. It had come in handy when he and Chris had spent a day cleaning the pond and installing a solar-powered fountain.

So far, we were still slightly in the red with all the set-up costs, not least insurance and putting benches around the gardens for less mobile guests, but even a lacklustre turnout today would nudge us into the black. There'd been more interest than I could ever have imagined, with a few people actually having bought three-year passes to the gardens.

The only one of Ollie's ideas I'd had to veto was the petting corner. "We could get humans to run it," he'd protested.

"And for the rest of the time, when we're not open? We're going to have perpetually terrified rabbits, guinea pigs and lambs. Sorry, Ollie, we can't do it."

He'd looked so disappointed, I'd found myself compromising. "But maybe we could get some miniature donkeys of our own and let people pet them instead."

I couldn't believe he'd got me signing up for donkeys as well as peacocks. I was so far in love with him that I was almost ready to dye the damn doves to make him happy.

He was insistent that I should work the forge every time we were open. "Because I don't think you understand how many people that's going to bring in, seeing you all muscly and sweaty, pounding metal on an anvil." When I wasn't doing that, I should mingle with the guests, he said. Tim and Mia too. "Not only can you get them interested in your future plans, but people will go home happy because they spoke to the lord of the manor."

"I don't have a title, and I certainly don't have any money."

"But you live here. I know it's daft, but people would love to think they had a nice chat with Talbot of Talbot Court."

He reminded me today as I pulled on a t-shirt. "No growling at any of our guests, no matter how annoying they are."

Ollie had grown in confidence in his role, ordering me about in a way no one else would dare, but which I—well, I'd miss it if he stopped.

I had my revenge, though. "If you're forcing me, Tim and Mia to mingle, you know that means you have to mix as well. You're part of this family, after all."

"For my sins," he muttered, and I loved that he felt so secure here, knowing his place by my side was forever.

"Are you going to get out of bed, or shall I set the doves on you?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."

* * *

It was our fifth open day and our most heavily attended so far. From day one, I'd drafted in a few family members to help, and one of the unexpected benefits had been that people now dropped in to visit us even when they weren't working. The Court was no longer on the edge of the family.

Around lunchtime, I damped down the forge, snagged a cold drink from June in the shop, and went to mingle.

Some of the first people I ran into were the Moores, who'd commissioned the eagle. They were admiring the concentric rings of my Avebury sculpture, the one I'd sketched out at the moot. When I'd finally got the time to make it, I'd poured into it my feelings about flying with Ollie over Avebury, and of all the pieces I'd created, it was my second favourite. It sat on a stone plinth installed by a local stonemason on what one day would be a formal lawn, where I could see it as I came and went from the house.

"Archer, may I introduce you to John Galanis?"

John shook my hand, his grip firm and brief. "I've been looking at your work around the grounds and in the shop. If I may be frank, I believe you're under-pricing yourself significantly."

My hackles rose, my dragon grumbling at being told I didn't know my own business. "With respect, Mr Galanis, I price according to the market."

"What if you had access to a different market? I have galleries in Mayfair and Edinburgh, and I think your work would go down well with many of my clients. They expect to pay considerably more than you're charging for a bespoke piece, however."

His words were so unexpected that I didn't know what to say.

"I appreciate this isn't the best time to talk," he continued, while I was still trying to find the right words. "If I give you my card, perhaps we could speak again in a few days' time and discuss in more detail."

"I'd appreciate that," I said at last, taking his card. I'd google him later and check he was legit, but if he was friends with the Moores, he undoubtedly was.

A woman ambushed me as I turned away. "Mr Talbot, may I have a word?" She was dressed almost as immaculately as June used to be before she got stuck into the gardening and had an air of determination about her that triggered alarm bells.

Remembering Ollie's instructions not to growl at the guests, I smiled at her. "Of course."

"The thing is, my daughter's getting married next September, and their venue has let them down. I was wondering if you ever hire out Talbot Court for events?" She evidently interpreted my expression correctly because she swiftly added, "Not the house, of course, but the grounds. It would be wonderful to have some wedding pictures on top of the folly."

It would? I didn't think even Ollie would want to get into the events business. That felt like a step too far. But I realised this wasn't a decision I should make on my own. I was getting better at consulting Ollie, Tim and Mia on things that affected them and listening to their opinions before making decisions, though it had taken some getting used to.

"Honestly, Ms…"

"Batley. Mrs."

"Mrs Batley," I continued. "It isn't something we've considered, but if you'd like to leave your contact details with June in the shop, I'll speak to my Director of Operations about the possibility and come back to you."

"Soon?" she pressed.

If we were going to get into the wedding business, and I was fairly certain we weren't, Mrs Batley wouldn't be my choice of customer.

"Within two weeks," I promised her rashly. "It would be a new departure for us, so I'm not sure how likely it is we'll be able to accommodate you."

"Well, it's good of you to consider it. Meg was devastated when they lost Ashbourne House."

All of a sudden, she looked like a mother trying to ease her daughter's disappointment rather than the demanding harridan she'd first seemed.

"I'll get back to you as soon as I can," I assured her. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must speak to some more guests."

Nearby, three elderly women were lurking conspicuously and scrutinising me. I was growing to recognise the different types of guests we attracted, and I was fairly certain they'd want to talk to me about planting schemes. I'd need to send them in Tim's direction.

Mixing with the guests was my least-favourite part of having the gardens open. My favourite part was when all the cars had gone, we'd made the requisite sweeps of the grounds and the maze to ensure there were no stragglers, and the Court was ours again.

Once darkness fell, Ollie and I would fly over the Court. Mia and Tim sometimes joined us, and I loved having my family in the air together, but they always left the folly as a private place for me and Ollie. Perched up there, his copper scales would glint in the moonlight in a way my black ones never did, and I would croon happily as he wound his neck around mine.

Ollie had changed everything and given me a fresh start, a new life. A new way of being. But that wasn't why I loved him. I loved him because he was Ollie.

OLLIE

Lunchtime was fast approaching. Guests were pouring through the gates until Chris and his helpers had to use the overflow car park, but I still hadn't seen my parents. They'd obtained Archer's permission to visit today, along with Jack.

I'd gone home a couple of times. The first time was to break the news to them I was moving to Winchester and to bring my belongings back here. My second visit was to meet my god-daughter, Sarah-Ollie. Her parents insisted her name was Sarah, but she and I knew better.

I supposed this was the informal mixing of families that the moot had wanted to see, but I was on edge. Seeing my parents here, in my new life… I didn't want them to judge it, to judge me again. I was happy here.

But it was going to happen, and I was trying to suck it up and be prepared when Jack's voice had me turning round in delight.

"At last. How big is this place? I've been tramping round everywhere looking for you. For the record, by the lake isn't a very helpful location."

I couldn't stop grinning at the sight of him. Unlike when I'd gone to Tunbridge Wells the last time, he wasn't modelling a baby sling. Sarah-Ollie couldn't safely mix with humans, not when she might shift at any moment. Yet he still looked different from the old Jack. People said that mothers glowed, but Jack was practically beaming with happiness, if you overlooked the big dark bags under his eyes. Apparently, my clever god-daughter preferred to sleep during the day and kept them up at night. Like god-father, like god-daughter.

"You should get a better phone," I told him. "GPS is a thing."

"Sod you," he said as he hugged me close. "How are you, Ollie? Mr Rochester still treating you right? You look good on it."

"He's great," I said. "In fact, you can find out for yourself."

Archer was approaching. He looked a little taken aback to find me hugging another dragon.

"You must be Jack," he said, offering his hand.

"And you're Mr Rochester," Jack said.

I choked, and Archer's eyebrows rose.

"I mean, Mr Talbot. Shit. " Jack was uncharacteristically flustered. I remembered that Archer was the head of a family and had the presence and authority that went with that—I'd stopped seeing it most of the time. When I looked at him, I saw Archer, with all the different layers that entailed.

"Mr Rochester as in Jane Eyre ?" he asked, deeply amused though I wasn't sure Jack could see that. There certainly weren't any dragon families called Rochester.

"As in Jack's really bad with names," I improvised, somewhat unconvincingly. "Have you closed the forge?"

"I left Richard there to keep an eye on it. I'll go back later."

"Ollie. There you are."

Oh, shit. I knew this would come, that Archer would meet my parents, but dread was unfurling in my belly as I turned to face them.

They'd grown smaller since I'd last seen them. Perhaps it was seeing them away from Shaw territory, but they looked less impressive, somehow.

After Archer had welcomed them, Mum looked around with a practised gaze, and I wilted inside, waiting for her criticism.

"Talbot Court wasn't on my radar," she informed Archer, "but I don't know why because it's going to be beautiful once fully restored."

"Thank you. I happen to think it's rather beautiful now."

After an instant's shock, as Mum processed Archer's response and the fact he was the head of a family, she agreed. "It is," she said, and she meant it. "I'm keen to see the sculpture garden finished."

It had been an overgrown mess when Chris and I had first tackled it. Now it was an untidy but welcoming space, with the old stone statues we'd uncovered standing at clever focal points. Whoever had designed this garden had been a genius. It was my favourite part of the gardens, too, and I smiled at Mum as I realised that.

"Ollie's done a fantastic job making all of this happen," Archer continued, his hand warm and reassuring in the small of my back.

Dad cocked his head, as if he must not have heard that correctly.

"The entire idea was his, as well as the execution of all the details," Archer continued, and Jack turned away to hide a smile.

My phone sounded. He's nuts about you. I kind of knew that, but to hear it from someone else was nice.

Archer escorted my parents round the grounds as I went to ensure no one had fallen into the pool in the maze. I also checked in on Tim, who was doing his usual roaring trade selling plants from Talbot Court garden, and Mia, who was sitting by the moat selling duck food and small cardboard tubs of ice cream. I knew we'd do well to offer tea and cakes, but that would be a nightmare with food safety standards, and I wasn't ready to take that on yet. On our first open day, we'd sold bottles of water, but none of us liked doing that because of the ecological cost. These days, we simply had a table with big jugs of water and fruit squash together with cheap glasses that wouldn't break the bank if people walked off with them. Guests could help themselves for free. It made it feel a little less like a business and more like welcoming people to our home.

Perhaps we could get some koi carp or trout for the moat and sell food for them as well. I wasn't sure about that, because the existence of fish might encourage more ducks. I'd almost got used to the storm of quacking that started up right outside the window each dawn. On the days when they still woke me, it was an opportunity to wake Archer in my turn, and we'd have time together before heading off to work. Time with his body warm against mine, with kisses and murmurs as we touched one another. I didn't think I would ever grow tired of discovering his body anew.

"Earth to Ollie." I blinked back thoughts of warm, sleepy, naked Archer to find Jack standing there. "We're heading out. Mr Rochester invited us to supper, but your parents graciously declined." He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "I think they're a bit overawed by him."

"He is impressive, isn't he?" I agreed.

"Nope. Not going there. You can keep your sex talk for him." He grinned at me, the same grin I'd seen almost every day of my life, easy and filled with years of friendship. "I'll give your love to Sarah and Lisa."

"I'll come over before much longer," I promised. It was on Archer's radar to make a formal visit to Jack's dad, but we'd been so busy, there hadn't been time. As well as all the work of getting the gardens ready to open, the rather terrifying Evelyn Berstow had visited, and Rufus and Mark had come back to spend time in the library. And in the maze, which Mark had figured out by himself on only his second attempt. No wonder he was at Oxford University.

I didn't have time to indulge in the slight sadness I felt after waving off my parents and Jack. There was too much to do. I had a child to reunite with its lost parents, season tickets to sell to guests who weren't comfortable buying online, and Chris to congratulate on his new job. I'd miss his help around the place.

When Chris and I first started working together, I'd scarcely been able to look at him because of the guilt I felt over flaming him, but he'd had the same problem concerning what he'd done to me. Our mutual feelings of guilt balanced one another, meaning we got past that quite quickly. What took longer was my wariness of him. I knew he hadn't been in his right mind, but my body remembered his hand around my throat even when my brain told me he was safe.

Archer had been even more edgy than I was, and he was never out of our sight for that first week. I had no idea what that did to his schedule of work in the forge, but it meant we'd got a lot more done in the garden than I'd anticipated. After a while, Chris and I had settled into a working partnership, and now, I found I'd miss him. I had Tim and Mia's help for the rest of the summer, but we'd need to hire someone else.

Why had I ever thought this to be a good idea? The challenges were never-ending. But as Archer came up behind me, his hand in the small of my back and that wonderful scent of metal and smoke surrounding him, I was happier than I'd ever been.

* * *

I came back into the bedroom fresh from the shower and found a large cardboard box on the bed.

"For you," Archer said, with a soft smile.

Oh my God, I loved presents. I scrabbled at the flaps to open it.

"Bear in mind, I started this before you opened hostilities with them," he added as I lifted out the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Archer had made this? For me?

It was a sculpture of a peacock, tail curved down behind it to sweep the floor, and it was as exquisitely made as all of his work, with the feathers rendered in minute detail. He'd made hard metal look organic.

It was beautiful beyond words, but what left me speechless was what it was made from. The body and feathers were copper, while the quills and eyes of the feathers gleamed silver.

It was intimacy on a level I'd never known, our treasures mingled, made by him as a gift for me.

I placed it with great care on the dressing table and threw myself into his arms. "It's incredible," I told him. " You're incredible."

I kissed him before I pushed him back onto the bed, determined to demonstrate my gratitude. He went easily, laughing, and his laughter turned to groans as I showed him precisely how grateful I was and how much I loved him.

Later, I lay beside him and traced imaginary peacock feathers over his chest as he held me, loving that I could touch him whenever I wanted . Loving that I was his.

"How can you give away something that's made from the thing you treasure?" I asked.

"I can do it so long as I keep it away from my hoard and always remember it isn't mine . I hate doing it, though, so I only work in copper if the client absolutely demands it and the project pays well enough. But the thing is, Ollie," he said, trailing his fingers down my cheek, grey eyes smiling into mine, "when I'm giving this to you, I'm not giving it away."

It was all I could do not to cry. "I love it," I said instead, hopelessly inadequate words. "I love you, Archer."

He kissed me gently, then he raised his head and his eyes changed. They were teasing, glinting down into mine, and I thought of the controlled, stern, unhappy dragon I'd first met. It seemed a lifetime ago. "You're sure you don't mean Mr Rochester?" he asked.

"Only if you've got a thing for ploughing the governess," I said as he swept his hand down my body, making me wriggle with pleasure and anticipation.

He snorted with laughter, which unfortunately prevented him from doing anything else for a moment. When he stopped laughing long enough to kiss me again, I held him close.

I hadn't dreamed it was possible to be this happy, but, with Archer, I couldn't be anything else.