A Country Scandal: a sexy, scandalous page-turner

by Sasha Morgan

  ‘It’s a taste of Lancashire, a good old hotpot,’ Tracy told them, spooning it out.

  Tobias’ forehead creased: a what? Megan saw it and shook her head. Surely he must know what a hotpot was? Apparently not, judging by his expression. For some reason this annoyed her, that and his obvious coldness towards Tracy and Gary, who were doing their level best to fit in and make a new start. She found his attitude rather high-handed and didn’t care for it one bit. He clearly didn’t want to be here and it showed. Earlier, when Gary was outlining his plans for the garden, she had noticed how reserved Tobias had been and frankly had found it embarrassing.

  ‘Here’s to a happy home!’ chirped Finula, raising her glass. Everyone joined in, though Tobias did so reluctantly. Happy home? They’d completely ruined it, stripping the Gate House of its traditional charm and ambiance. It epitomised the sorry state of affairs, of how broke his family must be to sink to this level. How in God’s name did the Belchers acquire just under a million pounds to buy it? He should have vetted the buyers first, before instantly accepting the asking price. Then again, maybe nobody else would have offered the asking price.

  ‘So what brought you to Treweham?’ asked Megan, once the conversation had moved on from Lancashire.

  ‘Well, we came here on honeymoon a few years ago and since winning the lottery, we decided to relocate here,’ Gary answered. The drink had loosened his tongue.

  Tobias’ head shot up. Lottery winners, of course! Why hadn’t he guessed? Megan caught his eye and gave him a quizzical look, which he returned with a tight smile. She took a deep breath.

  ‘Yeah,’ Tracy joined in, cheeks hot with all the steam coming from the casserole dish, ‘we’re beginning to feel more at home, now that we’ve got the place as we want. Wouldn’t mind a proper gas fire, though. All this messing around with the wood burner, it’s a right faff!’

  Tobias closed his eyes. He wanted to run away from here, away from the Belchers, who had desecrated his family’s heritage. And what plans did Gary have for the garden? A bloody hot tub!

  The evening droned on for Tobias. A mixture of being force-fed more and more ‘hotpot’, washed down with warm, flat Prosecco, and listening to Gary’s jokes getting progressively louder and decidedly dirtier, didn’t do much for his mood.

  He noticed Dylan was unusually quiet, and wondered if he had given the renovation of the old stable block any more thought.

  Finally, after all had said good night and thanked Gary and Tracy, he and Megan made their way home. Walking in the cool night air, Tobias reached out for her and gently pulled her into him, with his arm round her shoulders. She tensed a little, reminding him of the Megan he had first known. ‘Megan?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Is everything all right?’ He sensed a reluctance in her.

  She stared straight ahead of her. ‘Shouldn’t it be?’

  Tobias frowned, not knowing what had caused the sudden change in her.

  *

  Dylan had given Finula a lift back to The Templar. Looking sideways at him, Finula asked, ‘Not heard from Flora, then?’

  ‘No.’ He drove solemn-faced, staring out at the lane in front of him. Finula didn’t know what to say. It was strange having a quiet, sombre Dylan, instead of the usual lovable rogue.

  ‘Sorry.’ She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  Dylan shrugged. Tomorrow he was going to talk to Seamus, run the idea of setting up his own training yard past him. Seamus had experience and was a true friend, and he trusted him to give an honest opinion.

  Dylan thought he couldn’t go on like this; a deep sense of discontentment was threatening to suffocate him. Never before had he encountered such a feeling of unfulfillment, yet what had changed? He was still Dylan Delany, Champion Jockey, a winner, but something was missing. His own words to Tobias rang true. He was lonely.

  His thoughts perpetually gravitated to Flora. It puzzled him that such a slip of a girl had had such an overpowering effect on him. Why? Because she was sincere, he told himself. She was young, innocent and wore her heart on her sleeve. There was no hidden agenda, she simply just wanted him – and she genuinely cared. Flora understood him more than he had appreciated. They were the same: she loved horses like he did and he’d witnessed the bond she had shared with them. She had been right, he could have been badly injured at Newmarket. He recalled the tears streaming down her face, the hurt and anger he had caused. He had to talk to her.

  Chapter 31

  Megan was making good progress with her painting. She had finished the pencilled outline of the Hall and was placing a dab of watercolour onto the palette plate. She mixed the honey stone paint carefully and began applying it to the paper. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed this, deep in concentration, watching the gentle brush strokes work their magic.

  Her thoughts turned to last night and again wondered why Tobias had suddenly become so subdued at Gary and Tracy’s. Didn’t he like them? It wasn’t like him to be superior, but she did get the impression he hadn’t taken to them like she and Finula had. Deciding to stretch her legs, she waited for the paint to dry and packed away her chair, painting and brushes and headed towards her car. She had been at Treweham Hall for over two hours and wanted a break. After loading the car and slamming the car boot shut, she turned to see an elderly lady in tweeds with her arms crossed, standing staring at her.

  ‘Hello,’ Megan smiled.

  The old lady didn’t return the smile. Instead she barked out, ‘Who are you?’

  Megan explained she had come to paint Treweham Hall, feeling slightly prickled by the abruptness of this stranger.

  ‘Tobias has arranged for the Hall to be painted? So much for being stony-broke,’ she answered with a degree of conceit.

  ‘I’m not actually charging. It’s to return a favour,’ chipped back Megan with a slight edge to her voice.

  ‘Is it really?’ the old lady chuckled, then turned on her heel and strode back inside.

  Of all the cheek! Who on earth was that?

  Tobias threw his head back and laughed when Megan called in and told him about the strange meeting later that morning. Seeing him laugh instead of being stony faced was a welcome change since the previous evening. He had finished all the downstairs of Ted’s cottage and was now starting on the bedrooms. The kitchen looked wonderful with its fresh wooden units, newly plastered walls and French doors. It amazed Megan how quickly he and his workforce had completed it.

  ‘So you’ve met Aunt Celia, then?’ he said, smiling. Megan loved the way his cheeks dimpled when he laughed. It was a far cry from the sulky, furrowed face of last night. He had just showered and his hair was still damp. She longed to run her fingers through it. He was wearing a black polo shirt, unbuttoned, revealing the dark shadow of hair on his chest, which Megan’s eyes homed in on. He had been busy stripping the bedroom walls all morning and had decided to call it a day. He needed to speak to Megan at some point to tell her about Ted, but couldn’t think of how or when. Then inspiration came to him as he recalled Ted’s conversation. He had mentioned Quercus Woods being a special place for him and Grace. Tobias thought he would take Megan there with a picnic and tell her the whole story of Ted and Grace. He didn’t want to put it off any longer. It didn’t feel right that he knew and she didn’t. After all, it was her grandfather and grandmother.

  ‘This looks interesting,’ Megan pointed towards the wicker basket on the side. He had rung the kitchen staff at the Hall that morning and asked them to prepare a picnic hamper. One of the girls had dropped it off just before Megan called.

  ‘I was just about to phone you. We’re going on a picnic,’ he said decisively.

  ‘Are we?’ Megan looked over the basket, longing to see what was inside – all good stuff if it came from Treweham Hall, no doubt.

  ‘Yes, to Quercus Woods.’

  ‘Ah, Quercus Woods, I used to go there with Gran,’ Megan’s mind filled with memories of old oak trees dappled with sunlight, bluebells, wild
garlic and a bubbling stream.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Tobias ushered her out of the French doors and checked his back pocket. Yes, the photograph was still there. He drove the short distance to the woods.

  ‘You’ve thought of everything.’ Megan looked him up and down. He was carrying the picnic hamper and a rug from the back seat of his car.

  ‘Always come prepared,’ Tobias grinned back. Together they ambled through the oak trees until they both decided on a secluded spot by the stream. Tobias spread out the rug on the mossy ground and they sat huddled side by side, listening to the sound of trickling water.

  ‘Did you enjoy last night?’ Megan asked quietly.

  Tobias sighed, ‘No.’

  ‘Why? Don’t you like Gary and Tracy?’

  ‘I don’t like what they’ve done to the Gate House. It made me regret selling it.’

  ‘But did you have any choice?’

  Tobias gave a wry smile; she was intuitive enough to know he wouldn’t have parted with it unless absolutely necessary. ‘No, I didn’t, and yes, their money’s as good as anyone else’s, but to see it like that, with all its vulgar décor, it just…’ He paused for a moment and threw a pebble in the stream.

  ‘Tell me,’ Megan gently urged.

  ‘The Gate House was supposed to be mine and Carrie’s, after we were married. She had such plans for it; we both did. I can’t help but think what could have been.’ He looked forlornly into the shimmering water. Megan felt like she’d been slapped. A cocktail of emotions poured through her: shock, sympathy, jealousy and an overwhelming gut feeling of helplessness. How could you feel sympathy and jealousy in equal amounts? How could you be envious of a dead woman? As she swallowed the lump in her throat her subconscious told her why: because she had real feelings for Tobias. She watched him staring out aimlessly, wanting to touch his face, the crease above his chin, his strong jaw line, his black, shiny hair that smelt of pine. He looked young and vulnerable, just how Carrie would have seen him, she thought, hating herself for the resentment that was settling inside her. He turned to face her and she gazed into his piercing green eyes, not knowing what to say. He stared back, then gently leant forward and kissed her softly. Megan wanted to hold him, but he quickly turned round and reached for the picnic hamper.

  ‘Right, let’s see what’s in here then,’ he said with a forced brightness. The moment had gone. At least now she understood why he had acted the way he had last night.

  ‘Let’s. I’m starving.’ Together they unpacked a feast of French bread, cheeses, chutney, olives, tomatoes, sparkling wine and two mini cheesecakes. ‘This is absolutely gorgeous,’ Megan spoke between mouthfuls. ‘You’re so lucky having staff to make all this for you.’

  Tobias nodded. ‘Yes, but it all comes at a price, Megan. I’ve got to make sure we can afford to pay all the staff.’ He was responsible for so much, it overwhelmed him at times.

  ‘I know,’ she conceded, stretching her arms, enjoying the sun shining through the tree branches and glimmering in the stream, ‘but it’s just so different from the way I live.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’ He ran a finger down her back, making her shiver. ‘We’re not so different, you and I.’

  She turned and smiled at him. She looked so young and happy. The sun had brought out the freckles sprinkling her nose; she was irresistible. Sensing now was the moment, Tobias took out the photograph from his jeans back pocket.

  ‘Megan, I found this in Ted’s bureau.’ He passed her the picture.

  She stared at it and blinked. Frowning, she turned it round and read the back: To my darling Edward, forever yours, Grace. x Her eyes were wide with disbelief. ‘Ted… Ted’s “E” … he’s my grandfather?’ Tobias nodded. He put his arms around her and relayed everything: how Ted had told him about meeting Grace, their plans to marry, the letters exchanged during the war, Ted’s injury and finally him returning home too late, to a Grace who had had his baby and was married to his best friend. Megan sat in silence and a tear ran down her cheek. Tobias kissed it away.

  ‘Oh, Tobias, that’s so sad,’ she whispered.

  ‘I know. Ted doesn’t want you upset, though. He respects Michael’s memory.’

  ‘So nobody else knows apart from us?’ That confirmed the suspicions about her mum never knowing.

  ‘No. Only us.’

  Megan nodded.

  ‘Here, let’s finish this off.’ Tobias poured the rest of the sparkling wine into the plastic wine cups. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Tobias respected the time Megan needed to digest everything. He watched her sipping on her wine, staring out at the glistening water. He felt a compulsion to protect her, wanting to wrap his arms around her and never let go. How would he have felt with such a sudden revelation? He knocked back his drink and examined her face, deep in contemplation.

  Well, what a picnic, thought Megan. In the space of an hour she had encountered so many emotions it had left her feeling a little shaken up. She took a deep breath. Tobias touched the side of her face. She turned to him and saw the compassion in his eyes. He did care, she knew he did, and in that split second she knew she wanted him. He read it. Reaching out for her, he pulled her body hard against him. She felt his heart hammering in his chest and wrapped her arms round him, her hands ran inside his polo shirt to feel the soft, warm skin underneath. He groaned and kissed her neck, licking the dip above her collarbone. Then his lips caught hers and his tongue probed gently into her mouth making her breathless. Her hands dug under the waist of his jeans, making him thrust into her, his arousal evident. Slowly he unbuttoned her top. She was lying on the rug, eyes half closed, her skin stung pink with passion and the effect of his touch. He gave a sharp intake of breath at seeing the freckles dusted across the swell of her breasts. He lowered his head to lick and kiss them, as she writhed beneath the caress of his mouth. She pulled at his shirt and he urgently yanked it off. Her eyes took in his broad shoulders and muscular chest; his eyes were dark with desire as he unclasped her white, satin bra to expose two round, firm breasts. He moaned, yearning to suckle them, and as his tongue brushed over her nipples she arched her back, running her hands through his hair. ‘Tobias,’ she whimpered, grinding further into him. He undid her jeans, tugging them down her thighs, his hand cupped between them, making her gasp. His thumb circled her core, making her jolt in pleasure.

  ‘Megan,’ he whispered hoarsely in her ear. She opened her eyes. ‘Megan, I haven’t got… protection.’

  Her heart started to steady, realising what he meant. ‘I… oh… right.’ She was still dazed.

  Tobias leant over her, his eyes heavy with lust. ‘We’ll have to wait,’ he whispered, and kissed her. After a few moments he rolled over onto his side and propped up his head. He picked a frond of cow parsley and traced it over her face. She giggled at its touch.

  ‘I thought you said you always came prepared,’ she grinned up at him.

  Chapter 32

  Dylan put the phone down and pondered. Well, that was a turn-up for the books. He had planned on going to see Seamus today, but his agent had given him food for thought. An advertising agency had contacted his agent, enquiring if he would be interested in starring in their new commercial for aftershave, aptly named ‘Racer’. Dylan quite liked the thought of appearing in an advert, and his agent liked it even more when they told him what they would be offering. Dylan’s eyes widened at the fee proposed. Money to help him set up his own training yard, he thought. Dylan earned a pretty penny with various companies, wearing a certain watch or suit in interviews, drinking a certain energy drink, being a member of a particular gym, even driving a specified car, but actually appearing in a TV commercial – that was something else. The more he thought of it, the more it appealed to him.

  ‘Don’t hang about, Dylan,’ his agent had advised down the phone, the excitement and greed in his voice evident. ‘They’re approaching Lance James too.’

  Lance James was the latest Grand Prix winner, not as prominent a figure in the sport
ing world as Dylan, but even so, he didn’t want some racing driver pipping him at the post. What had he to lose? The extra money would be more than useful. The old stable block would take some converting and Tobias wouldn’t rent him the land for fresh air. Plus he needed to pay staff, not to mention offer enough to entice Flora to be his assistant trainer. Yes, he would do it. He rang his agent back and within the hour a schedule had been set, for the very next day. Hell, they were keen, thought Dylan, and his agent was beside himself with joy.

  ‘This will really put you on the map, Dylan,’ he practically purred down the phone.

  ‘I’m already on the map, Connor,’ replied Dylan, rolling his eyes. He could just imagine his fat, little agent rubbing his chubby hands together, pound signs blinging from his beady eyes. Dylan didn’t particularly like Connor, but knew he was good at his job. He suspected the prompt schedule was more to do with him than the advertising agency. Connor wasn’t going to let an opportunity like this slip through his grasping paws. Within a few hours the contract had been signed, sealed and delivered.

  Dylan was to meet with representatives of the advertising agency in London. They had arranged for a car to pick him up from home to take him straight there. Not sure what to wear, he opted for casual jeans and a jumper, assuming they would have clothes for him to wear in the commercial. How wrong he was.

  On arriving at the agency, he was greeted by a young girl with long dark hair and large brown eyes, which she fluttered at him. ‘Good morning, Mr Delany. Please follow me.’ He was led to a large studio with cameras, lights and various people buzzing about with clipboards. A small, bald-headed man wearing purple trousers and a red waistcoat scurried over to him.

  ‘Dylan! Dylan! So good to see you.’ Dylan blinked – did he know him? He appeared ever so familiar. ‘I’m Richard. Please call me Dickie.’ He ushered Dylan onto a white leather sofa at the side of the studio and sat next to him, far too closely. Dylan could smell his breath as he gushed, ‘We’ll put you in make-up first, then try a few shots for light.’ His hands rapidly moved as he spoke. Dylan struggled to keep up with the whole scenario. ‘You will look am-az-ing!’ Dickie slapped his shoulder with glee.