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Page 15 of Whose Bed Is It Anyway?

“Seeing friends.”

“He has friends on the mainland?”

“I don’t grill him with twenty questions like some people do. He’s not here. You can’t meet him. If I have my way, ever.”

This time Luke burst out laughing. This was going to be fun. She was getting red in the face as her eyes darted about, no doubt thinking about what to make up about him.

“All right, fire breather, I’ll stop with the questions for now. We need to head up to the graveyard.”

“That’s the other direction.”

“I know,” Luke said with enthusiasm.

“Yet here we are all the way over here.” Freya sounded like she was ready to hit something.

“You were determined to come this way, and it’s not like I could anchor onto your arm. That’s against the rules.”

“They’re your rules, and they’re stupid. You could have said words.”

“I could’ve.”

They strode across the lawns behind the lodges, through the gap in the twelve feet high hedges and across the lawns of Edward Hall. There wasn’t an elite military type in sight. Luke was grateful because he already had to contend with Freya insisting she was engaged while ogling the men as they exercised.

Now came the dilemma. Did they cross the back of Turner Hall, passing the swimming pool and then up to the gravesite, or did they go the long way around, which would take them around the front of the manor house? Either way, he could get spotted by Cynthia.

“If we run, and she yells at us, we can ignore her,” Freya said, grabbing his hand and crouching to make a run for it.

He curled his fingers around her hand and squeezed. Her fake fiancé would have to cope. He was touching her.

“All right. I hope you’ve still been working out because we’re going to need to run fast.”

“I’m good, Luke,” she said, giving him a playful grin. “Fit as a fiddle, endurance to last all activities.”

Was she flirting?

“I’m sure your fiancé is delighted.”

Luke then got a grimace followed by a growl. Shedropped her hand and ran away across the perimeter of Turner Hall near the fence and trees overlooking the beach. He raced after her, following her laughter as she pulled the band out of her ponytail and shook her hair out. Freya then lengthened her stride. His legs were longer, and they were running side by side until they passed the swimming pool. They then passed the conservatory and then through the gap in the trees on the other side.

He didn’t hear his aunt call out for him.

They were safe.

Slowing down to a jog and then a fast walk to then a stroll through the trees, he again took Freya’s hand, and she didn’t pull away. They caught their breath rather than spoke as they continued through the forest and out the other side.

The gravesite had all his ancestors buried in the same area. It looked like any gravesite, with lopsided gravestones, faded lettering and overgrown weeds. He had never known the site to be well kept. It seemed anyone dead was long forgotten. There were three exceptions. His father’s plot, because one of his brothers took care of it and the other two he was about to reveal to Freya.

When they reached the two plain headstones, Luke stopped and hauled Freya around in a wide circle until she came to his side. He slung his arm around her neck and pointed to the gravestones with his other hand.

“What, the fuck, are these?” he clipped.

Freya stepped forward and out of his hold to take a closer look. When that didn’t work, she dropped to her knees and leaned over the plot without kneeling on it.

“When did they arrive?” she asked.

“No idea. They weren’t there when we buried Dad, but then I haven’t been back for nine years. I didn’t notice them until we came to salute Dad not long ago.”

“Who do you think is buried here? The plots are well-tended. Someone must care about them. The headstones are a bit plain, though. Like someone doesn’t want them noticed. Why are they far away from anyone else?”