Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
There was something so magical about her. So incredibly endearing in every way I could imagine and some I couldn’t.
It’d only been a matter of days, and I couldn’t shake this feeling about her.
That she was meant to be here.
That she… God, no, I couldn’t even think it. I couldn’t think that she was made for me, but ever since she’d asked me if I believed in soulmates, my answer had played on my mind. I’d been vague, almost aloof, because I didn’t want to face the truth.
Yes, I believed in soulmates.
I believed my parents were, to have gone through everything they did and still chose one another in the end.
I believed my grandparents were, for their lifetime of marriage and never giving up, even when their disagreements had them at loggerheads.
I believed James and Freya were, where his calm demeanour balanced out her hot-headed chaos.
And me…
Grace…
Maybe she was mine. For nothing more than the way she made me feel.
She was the closest thing to perfect a person could be. Maybe I had a romanticised version of her in my mind and I hadn’t truly seen who she was yet, but I knew.
A part of me knew when we bumped into each other.
When I’d picked her up at the airport.
When she’d almost killed me and made me sleep on the sofa.
If I listed all the ways I knew, I’d be writing a book on our weekend.
“You are utterly besotted with that girl, aren’t you?” Aunt Monica asked, peering in Grace’s direction. “I don’t blame you. I’d be besotted with her if I was your age.”
“I think I am,” my cousin, Christina, said, peering at her as well. “If you break up, can you send her my way?”
I gently bumped her with my shoulder, laughing. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
“That sounds like you’re going to break up,” Aunt Monica said. “Are you?”
“I hope not,” I replied honestly. “I’m rather fond of her.”
“We can see. If this was a cartoon, you’d have perpetual heart eyes,” Christina replied. “Although you might have to save her from Great Uncle Dewy before she never escapes the history hole.”
“She’s doing her PhD in history. I don’t need to save her, but she might need a drink.” I kissed them both on the cheek and headed in their direction, slowly joining the conversation by slipping up next to her and setting my hand on her back.
“I don’t believe you,” Grace said to Dewy. “There’s absolutely no way you commanded an army of foals across the Scottish Highlands to take control of the Scottish Parliament when you were eight.”
“It wasn’t for his lack of trying,” Grandpa replied with a low chuckle. “Our father was keen on horse racing and had a few champion studs, even gifted a young mare to the late Queen Elizabeth for her birthday one year. She went on to win a few races in her lifetime.”
“Wow,” Grace replied. “That still doesn’t explain the army of foals. Whatever were you hoping to achieve with baby horses?”
Dewy’s eyes twinkled. “Chaos.”
“Ah, your favourite thing,” I interjected. “You haven’t brought any squirrels with you today, have you?”
“Maybe.” He grinned. “They’re in your sister’s bedroom.”
“I heard that, Uncle Dewy,” Freya said, stepping up next to Grace. “Can I ask that you not try to unleash an army of wildlife until Sunday morning at the latest?”
“Oh, lass, I’m only playin’ with ya. I left the ferrets at home.”
I grinned.
“Dad’s looking for you both,” Freya said, looking at Grandpa and Dewy. “Something about… Someone wanting a horse, and I don’t have the foggiest what’s going on.”
Grandpa nodded. “Excuse us.”
They both left, and I looked at Freya. “Did he really?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Surprisingly. Lord Malvern is here with Aunt Jackie, and one of his is about to retire.”
“He couldn’t look after a horse if it kicked him in the nuts,” Grace muttered.
Freya’s lips quirked into a little smile as she looked at her. “How do you know?”
“She knows everything,” I retorted.
Grace swatted me, but there was laughter in her eyes. “He’s been trying to buy a new horse for three years, but nobody will sell to him. There was an issue at his stables where he was hiring underage stable hands so he could pay them less than minimum wage and the horses weren’t getting correct care. I have a cousin who went out there when she was in veterinary school for her equine studies and apparently his stables were appalling. Don’t do it.”
“You’re like a walking encyclopaedia, do you know that?” I looked down at her.
“Interesting,” Freya said, looking in the direction Grandpa had just walked in. “I remember hearing he was being investigated for something, but it was all very hush-hush.”
Grace held out her empty hand. “There you go. It was his care. It might be different now but go and see the stables before selling to him. Although if the horses are good enough to be gifted to the monarch, they’re far too good for him and he probably can’t afford them either.”