Being banished to a boarding school in Britain was the last way that Leonie wanted to spend her senior year.
Back in Boston, all her friends would be enjoying the final months of high school, partying and going to prom. And she would be stuck in a cold, rainy country thousands of miles away, locked up like a nun.
But her grandmother had insisted. Either that or she wouldn't pay for Leonie's college.
St Winifred's School appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. Her grandmother's chauffeur drove her up and the journey felt endless. Leonie looked out of the car windows in increasing dismay as small towns gave way to villages and eventually to nothing but bare, bleak hills and some scattered forest.
Unless there was a boys' school hidden behind the trees, this was going to be the dullest of dull years.
"It's your own fault," a little voice told her. Leonie decided to ignore it. She felt miserable enough without her conscience pricking at her.
The Bentley finally pulled up along a sweeping gravel drive and Leonie looked upon what could surely only be a mental asylum. Grey, grim and gargoyled, it was like something out of a Victorian novel.
Leonie loved English literature at least. That was the one slim redeeming feature of being imprisoned here in this foreign land, that she would get to focus more deeply on that subject than at her high school back in the US.
Jenkins carried out her trunk for her. The school required students to bring their possessions in old fashioned trunks rather than suitcases, imagine that! All around her there were people hauling huge trunks to the front door of the school: girls in the grey St Winifred's uniform and their parents, brothers and younger siblings. Leonie even saw some nuns walking past the end of the building.
She stumbled and tripped while carrying a box that held some extra items that she hadn't managed to stuff into her trunk. The gravel bruised her knee and the contents of the box tumbled everywhere. Mainly books, but most embarrassing of all, her battered old teddy bear Buster. She scrambled to pick everything up just as a male voice, with an English accent, asked if she was okay.
Leonie looked up and into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. The face they were set in — also possibly the most handsome she had ever seen — belonged to a young man. He wore jeans and a grey sweater and held out a couple of the books that she had dropped.
She felt a jolt in her stomach as his gaze bored into hers. For a moment the world stood still.
"I'm okay, thanks," she said.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by her clumsiness. Then his eyes fell on Buster and Leonie wanted to die of shame. Was it her imagination or was there a faint smile on his face that he quickly suppressed? Leonie wished the gravel would swallow her up.
He said nothing, but helped her gather the rest of the scattered things and stood up. Leonie was struck by how tall he was, with such broad shoulders. Powerful arms. Thick, dark hair. A strong jaw and perfect features.
Why oh why had she managed to make such of a klutz of herself in front of him? And why hadn't she stuffed Buster into her trunk rather than risk everyone seeing him?
"Thank you."
"It's no trouble." He didn't smile, but there was a look in his eye that pierced her to the core. She actually felt heat in the pit of her stomach.
She was sure he must feel it too. A connection.
Before she had a chance to talk to him properly, he turned and went on his way. Damn. He must be someone's brother, so he probably wouldn't appear again until the end of term.
Leonie put the books and Buster back into the box, resolving to find out who his sister was and make best—friends—forever with that girl.
He looked way too old to be a high school student himself. He was probably at college, she reasoned. Or university as they called it here.
Still, at least there was one hot guy in this country. She'd imagined British boys would all be pasty from lack of sun, with bad teeth. But this one had model looks. He was the first hopeful thing she had seen all day.
