blog tour: the windsor love pact by lizzie chantree

‘It’s fine,’ she said lightly. ‘It looks like you’re in a bit of a predicament,’ she nodded towards the crowd who were just now beginning to walk towards them as Maya and Noah rapidly turned back towards her house and the docks along that side of the river.

‘I was feeling a bit stir crazy and thought no one would notice me if I had a quick early morning stroll,’ he shrugged and then grinned self-depreciatingly, which made a few butterflies take flight in her stomach.

‘We all start pretty early here if we’re working on the boats and the cafés on that side of the water bring in droves of early morning dog walkers. I live here...’ she pointed towards the first town house, then flushed as that might seem a tad stalkerish and forward. ‘I meant to hide in!’ she hurried on and he chuckled, but then looked over her shoulder again and grimaced. ‘But they already know you’re here and if that’s your boat,’ she nodded towards the shiny black powerboat that she’d seen docked outside his mansion situated further up the river when she helped on the river cruises, ‘then that’s your best bet. Jump in and I’ll walk back across the bridge and hold them off. I probably know most of them.’

He heaved a huge sigh of relief and quickly took her hand to thank her. ‘Your clothes and coffee. What can I do to compensate you?’ he asked again as they reached his boat and he threw the cap in, leaving his dark blonde hair all mussed-up and sexy.

‘It’s nothing. It will take me two seconds to change clothes and I work across the water, so I won’t even be late for work.’ She smiled warmly at him, to show him she was sincere and he breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Thank you,’ he said as he jumped into his boat and set o!. ‘I don’t even know your name,’ he called back, but she’d already turned and was walking rapidly towards the bridge and he had to quickly start the engine and move the boat back into the centre of the river.

After persuading the group on the bridge that there was nothing to see now, Maya caught her breath and stepped aboard Bertha, the timeworn steamboat that was docked on the river Thames, and waved to Joe, her grandad’s best friend and one of her favourite people on Earth. What a morning! Joe ran the only steamboat on this stretch of the river, with its black and gold railings and cream and black lifebuoy rings that were tied at intervals with bright orange rope. The forest-green awning that covered the seating area had seen better days and the paddle wheel needed a lick of paint, but the boat was still majestic despite being weathered from the water and passing of time. Bertha’s faded grandeur caught the interest of tourists walking around the dock area, and she often featured in people’s holiday snaps. Joe’s business was largely based on ferrying tourists up and down the estuary and regaling them with local history, even if Maya was pretty sure he embellished his stories here and there for his own entertainment when she wasn’t around to chide him. She wouldn’t be surprised if he added in a visiting humpback whale or a dragon living in the nearby castle at some point.

She ran her hands along the wooden handrail and enjoyed the feeling of her feet being back on board the solid timbers of Bertha’s deck. She’d missed this... both being on the water and part of a bustling community. The river path was still a feathery assault course of swans and geese, hopeful that a passing child might drop a morsel of food and she breathed in the honey-sweet scent of the golden Marsh marigolds and tall grasses that were swaying in the slight breeze across the water, reminding her of home. Sometimes she couldn’t believe how much her life had changed, but it felt good to be surrounded by so many memories of her childhood.

Maya grinned and waved to Roman, the guy who helped Joe with the river cruises. Roman had his long dread‐ locks held back with a headband as usual and he sent her a winning smile as he helped a customer step over the threshold of the deck, holding her walking stick, handbag and half-empty bottle of vodka! Maya’s mouth dropped open and then she giggled as Roman handed the items back to the woman once she was safely on board.

‘Roman,’ she called out, ‘do you need some help?’ The woman was certainly unsteady on her feet, but Maya suspected it was more likely from the drink than the need for her walking stick, as she was currently waving it at a huge seagull, who was regarding her with keen interest.

Roman shook his head, which made the ends of his hair fly around his shoulders. ‘I think I can manage.’ He winked, already reaching out to assist the next passenger on board. Maya made a note to sit near to the wobbly customer, just in case she fell overboard. There was a wooden-panelled bar in the centre of the boat with art deco effect mirroring along the back wall, that would have been opulent and glamorous in its heyday, but they only really served lukewarm rosé wine now so it was unusual for them to have to worry about customers overindulging, as they spent most of their time gazing at the lush river views, or into the verdant gardens of the exclusive houses that lined the waterfront. Maya eyed the woman who was laughing uproariously at something her friend said, then saw that they were celebrating something by the way the second woman brought out a slightly squashed cake and some candles that she quickly discarded after a glance at Bertha’s wooden bench seating. She pulled a couple of plastic forks from her turquoise bag and they both tucked in with relish and more giggles. One of the ladies caught Maya’s hand as she passed and she turned to them with a polite smile.

‘Are we likely to see Noah Benedict on this cruise?’ asked one, as she took both their plates and slipped them back into her bag, crumbs and all, which made Maya wince. The other lady sat forward eagerly and Maya bit her lip in mirth. Most of their customers mainly wanted a glimpse of Noah, the charismatic movie star who lived along the river in a beautiful glass and metal house that must have incredible views of the river. Before he’d crashed into her that morning, Maya had actually glimpsed Noah herself on the grounds of his estate a few times and she could understand everyone’s excitement. Being so close to him for a few moments had been a whole different experience. Magnetism shone from him, even in his harassed state. He had the usual Hollywood film star classic good looks; blonde tousled hair and piercing blue eyes with a requisite drool- worthy body that must take hours of punishment in the gym. The hunted look on his face had surprised her though. She’d assumed he courted publicity, as he was always featured in the press.

‘I can’t promise anything,’ she said, much to the ladies’ obvious disappointment, ‘but there have been more sightings of him from Bertha than any other cruise on the river,’ she added quickly, not mentioning that some of the villagers had seen him up close and in person that very morning. These feisty ladies might lynch her!

Despite her broken-heart, Maya had started to feel that she was – slowly – starting to heal. It was good to be back again, back among people who’d known her as a child. Living beside the ebb and "ow of the river after the glitz and glamour of the life and relationship that she’d had to leave behind, had brought her a quiet joy. Her old routine involved a fast-paced work life, creating intricate jewellery for influencers, celebs and attending non-stop parties. Now she spent her time by or on the water, on Joe’s boat or on the bank sketching wildlife, while she tried to come to terms with the loss of her jewellery design business and fiancé. Walking in on him in bed with Portia, one of their models, had brought her glittering career and what she’d thought was a good life with her fiancé crashing down around her.

Maya thought back to her first sight of Blake. He was tall, dark and handsome, and surrounded by a group of eager women. He had been sitting astride a chair in their art class, where they were studying jewellery design, and his eyes met hers as she’d walked in. She’d felt a frisson of heat go down her spine and her cheeks flush. He’d sat next to her when their lecturer arrived and her heart was already metaphorically in his hands. They’d been so young. Together, their ideas were magic, though. Maya’s designs were unusual and customers adored her work. Blake quickly realised his genius lay in marketing, so he left the design work to Maya. An up-and-coming reality star had been photographed wearing one of their Luna Moth neck‐ laces with delicately arched wings and sweeping tail in a nightclub in Soho, and suddenly everyone wanted to know their brand. Influencers were talking about them and their phones buzzed from morning to night with requests from stylists asking to borrow jewellery for events. They had been a dream team for a while with high-profile parties, celebrity endorsements and a swanky new "at. Their list of clients had grown and although she’d been shy and hadn’t relished the spotlight, Blake had courted it.

‘Our success is down to my marketing skills,’ he’d repeated like a mantra.

‘Of course,’ she’d always appeased, as she’d sketched some new jewellery ideas, keeping her eyes down and firmly on her work.

‘Pieces landing in the right person’s hands takes weeks of networking,’ he’d crowed, making excuses for why he was always out late at night, but people came back time and time again for her beautiful designs. Most of their customers thought Blake was the designer because he was the public face of the company – and he didn’t disabuse them of that notion. To them she was the boho partner in her glamorous one-off pieces that her grandmother had designed and her love of vintage. Maya glanced down at her current attire of an A-line skirt that sat a few inches above her knees and looked like it had been scattered with flowers as the print was of regal purple dahlias, the contrasting pink and white petals of cosmos and flowering sage on a white woven background. Above that she had a cute little white short-sleeved shirt she’d tied at her waist and a pretty little nasturtium flower brooch, with its wide petals and splashes of colour at its centre. She’d taken a second look at her coffee stained outfit of a lace top and jeans earlier, and decided to make a bit more of an effort, as you never knew who you might bump into in this town it seemed, she smiled to herself. Not that she was ever likely to stumble across Noah Benedict again and she was definitely not attracted to sexy rogues any more. She’d learned that lesson the hard way and her heart carried the scars.

Blake clearly preferred sleek blondes like Portia. Portia had been wearing an incredibly expensive 18-carat diamond necklace Maya had designed and nothing else. Maya had looked at them both and felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs. Portia had gasped and grabbed the bloody diamond necklace – as if Maya was about to rip it from her throat – and then darted to the bathroom to lock herself in. Maya hadn’t smashed anything, nor screamed accusations at Blake. She’d just let the bottom fall out of her world while Blake scrabbled around to find his jeans and trademark white tee. Then she’d turned on her heel and run, tears streaming down her face, heart smashed into a million tiny pieces.

She’d swept up the few personal items from her desk, leaving everything else behind. Unfortunately that included a folder of her designs for their forthcoming, much anticipated collection. For a long time after the breakup Maya had hidden herself away at her grandparents’ house where she’d grown up with her siblings and dissolved into all-too-frequent tears at the world and the injustice of loving a man who didn’t value her.

Maya had barely left the house, her family tip-toeing around her and whispering in corners in hushed tones. She’d hardly been able to eat because she felt that the affair must have been her fault; she wasn’t attentive enough, talented enough, sexy enough, clever enough. Maya had never been short on admiring looks from men, but Blake had chipped away at the way she dressed and behaved until she’d been reduced to being grateful that he loved her. She wouldn’t put herself through the pain of a broken heart again.

Slowly, with the help of her family and her best friend Leah, she’d begun to heal. Being close to the water, riverside plants and the wildlife they attracted, like the ever-darting dragonflies and busy bees, had helped and she’d started designing again. Smaller jewellery at first and then bolder and more intricate pieces that were inspired by the shapes and forms of the flowers she discovered growing by the river.

Maya rested her elbows on the rail as she watched the world pass by and a couple of fish darted along in the frothy white ripples that Bertha created in the water. As the boat steamed along, Maya wished her troubles would wash away with the breeze and she could truly start again.

Leah had popped round the night before and tentatively suggested that she consider dating again. The friends had met a couple of years previously, but to Maya, it felt like they’d known each other their whole lives and she didn’t know how she’d survived without a confidante and cheer‐ leader like Leah before that.

‘No thanks,’ Maya had replied as she reached into the fridge for a second chilled bottle of sauvignon blanc.

‘But...’ Leah had begun, but Maya had given her one of those stares that told her to shut up and drink her wine.

This conversation seemed a recurrent theme with her friends and family these days. Her grandparents constantly tried to match-make her with the grandsons of friends or neighbours. Dodging the topic was becoming an art form. No way, she wasn’t ready.

It had taken everything she had to pick herself up again and she’d spent the last two years building up a new jewellery brand that was hers and hers alone – No.1 Ethereal Lane. She’d worked from her workroom in her house by the river, sketching new ideas while helping Joe and on Bertha, and now her brand was being noticed. A particular piece, an exquisite cluster of white-gold bell-shaped comfrey flowers with shimmering emerald-winged stalks and curved silver leaves, had just gone viral, the collection selling out immediately. Post after post appeared on social media about the collection and the press were now on the trail of the mysterious designer behind the brand, because no one seemed to know who that was. Had it been Blake’s marketing wizardry that had propelled them to the level of success their business had reached last time, or was it her designs that customers fell in love with and were clamouring to buy?

Joe beckoned her over with a wave and Maya slid her sketching pencils and sketch pad back into her canvas tote bag, leaving it tucked under the bench by her feet so no one could trip over it. ‘How are the birthday girls getting along?’ he asked, inclining his head to the women who were currently leaning over the guard rails to look at the fluffy- downed cygnets that were paddling at the side of the river.

Maya bit her lip in mirth. ‘They’ve been nattering about how to get the attention of our gorgeous captain to persuade him to go of course,’ she teased. Joe laughed. Customers often flirted with Joe as he was so handsome. He looked like a dashing pirate and certain female clientele seemed to think he came with the boat and was there for the picking! Joe would shake his head and roll his eyes with good humour.

Maya moved over to nudge hips with Roman as he stood at the guard rail by the port side of the boat and he grinned and nudged her back. They enjoyed flirty banter with each other, but although Roman was gorgeous, he still occasionally dated his extremely fiery and vocal ex-girl‐ friend from the next town and getting thrown into the middle of an argument was the last thing Maya needed. Roman’s angular cheekbones and cheeky smile often got schoolgirl giggles from their female customers and he enjoyed every moment, she knew. ‘It’s quiet again today,’ Maya noted, glancing around at the almost clear decks.

Roman winced and shrugged. ‘I know. The worry lines on Joe’s face can’t get any deeper!’ he tried to joke as they both glanced at Joe, who was standing by the huge black paddle wheel. Maya put her arm around Roman’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze of comfort. ‘Olive needs her hip op and Joe can’t afford to stay at home and help her. We don’t have enough passengers as it is.’

‘I agree. Olive’s been hobbling around their bungalow for months.’ Maya sighed and tears sprung to her eyes. ‘He’s so stubborn.’ Joe’s wife, Olive, needed him at home, but the business required him to be on board. Maya helped as much as she could, serving drinks from Joe’s collection of mismatched glassware and checking tickets. It wasn’t enough. ‘We must come up with a plan to help,’ she added and Roman hugged her back before moving away. ‘Let me know if you think of anything.’

She watched Roman walk towards Joe and noticed that his shoulders were sagging in defeat. If Bertha was dry docked, she might not make it back into the water – and both Joe and Roman would lose their livelihood.

The boat drew up near Noah’s waterfront pad and Maya leaned over the guard rail and breathed in the fresh river air, closing her eyes for a quiet moment of contemplation as the breeze touched her face. Noah’s sleek black power boat was moored by the wide raised wooden jetty to the front of his property, so he’d made it back alive! She thought of those piercing blue eyes and the way they’d briefly settled on her dark brown ones and then shook the image away.

Working on the deck of a boat might be unusual for some, but it suited her. After all, she could work pretty much anywhere that inspired her. Maya sat cross-legged on the bow and considered Joe’s options, which were limited. As she watched the riverbank glide past, she sighed when she saw a young couple strolling along with a frolicking dog, smiling as they held each other’s hands. That had been her once. She took her phone out of her bag, glancing despondently at the screen. She was sure that her ex, Blake, would have loads of inspired ideas about how to help Joe. He’d texted her constantly when they split up, but there had been over a year of silence now. She swiped open an old text and !inched, waiting for the pain they usually brought. She needed to permanently delete them and move on, but she’d kept one or two and she didn’t really know why. It was as if she couldn’t quite let go of the last strands of their relationship, which was ridiculous because she’d definitely moved on. Maya almost snarled at the phone and the woman sitting next to her frowned and turned her way.

‘Are you okay, dear?’ she asked, patting Maya’s hand.

‘Sorry!’ Maya shivered, wishing she’d brought a jumper as the wind was picking up as they neared the halfway point of the cruise and her hair kept flying in her face. ‘Old message from my ex,’ she explained, grimacing and not wanting to explain further. The face of the woman next to her hardened and she urged her to take a fork and a mouthful of the remaining squashed cake, which Maya gratefully accepted.

‘Delete it,’ she advised sagely. ‘This will help,’ the woman insisted, patting her hand in solidarity. The cake was deliciously chocolaty, which immediately restored Maya’s good spirits and filled the air with the indulgent scent of earthy cocoa and sweet vanilla. She shook her head at the offer of a tipple of vodka, but was sorely tempted. She shoved the phone firmly back into her bag and knew she wouldn’t receive another text. Other than that one time... Blake had always been predictable. She had nothing to offer him now and he always had his eye on the prize.

Maya sat back to let the sun that peeked through the clouds for a minute or two warm her face, then pulled her sketchpad back out of her bag. She began sketching the common reeds that were swaying in the wind and the oval leaves and beautifully scented, spiky-looking flowers of the water mint on the river bank as they sailed slowly by.

She was building something new after feeling like she’d been without an anchor for the past two years. Her heart was finally healing and being back home with the inspiration of the river and all its surrounding natural beauty was inspiring her creativity. Her new-found success would annoy the hell out of Blake. Suddenly – unexpectedly – she was taking over the world of high-end jewellery design again, this time with no one knowing her name. People were beginning to know her brand, No.1 Ethereal Lane, but the designer behind the intricately cut designs was unknown and she intended to keep it that way.