A Country Scandal: a sexy, scandalous page-turner

by Sasha Morgan

  ‘Is that yours?’ Flora asked between mouthfuls of carbonara.

  ‘Yep.’ He tried to sound casual, knowing full well what was waiting for him.

  ‘Hadn’t you better get it?’

  ‘Suppose so.’ He reached inside his jeans pocket and braced himself.

  Still waiting for monster cock.

  Dylan closed his eyes. Right, this needed nipping in the bud. He was going to put a stop to it.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Flora was watching him.

  ‘Yes, it’s my agent. He wants to see me urgently. I’d better eat this and get going. Will you be OK for a few hours?’

  ‘Of course I will.’ Dylan hesitated. ‘Honestly, I’ll be fine,’ insisted Flora.

  Within the hour Dylan was parking outside the Taits’ mansion.

  Samantha greeted him immediately, looking seductive in another flimsy dress. He took a deep breath and walked inside the hallway. A Norah Jones CD was playing in the background; he could see champagne in an ice bucket on the kitchen worktop.

  ‘Relax, Dylan.’ She’d crept up behind him and was rubbing his shoulders. ‘My husband’s in Ireland for the next few days, so we won’t be disturbed this time,’ she laughed softly in his ear.

  Dylan clenched his jaw. Her nails were long, pointed and painted a vile purple colour. His flesh was still recovering from when they had pierced into him. Her hands moved from his shoulders, down his back, to his hips, then slowly wandered round to the front of his waist. She unbuttoned his jeans. Dylan went numb, literally. Those roving hands with the vile purple nails fumbled inside. Still Dylan felt nothing. Zilch. Samantha paused for a moment. Then she started to kiss his neck. He could smell her perfume, its strong, potent aroma making his eyes water. Her lips felt dry and crisp, not full and moist like Flora’s. Flora. He resisted the urge to fling Samantha off him. He had to play this right. She was a paying client, after all. A lot of money was at stake here. Her tongue curled inside his ear, making him cringe; it was hard and intruding. Again her fingers endeavoured to wrap round him, but he was limp, lifeless. Dylan was concentrating hard, but in all honesty it wasn’t difficult. He genuinely did not find Samantha attractive any more. Not in the least. If anything, she now appeared desperate, dishonest and dirty. His skin was beginning to crawl under her touch.

  She let out an impatient sigh. ‘What’s the matter, Dylan? It wasn’t like this before.’

  He turned to face her. ‘I’m sorry. It’s a problem I have.’

  Her eyes widened, ‘A problem?’

  ‘I’m afraid I’m not the man you thought I was.’

  ‘But… but… you’re a playboy, a—’

  ‘Hype,’ interrupted Dylan.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘It’s all hype, publicity. The article, the commercial, it’s just public relations. I blame my agent.’

  ‘You mean… you’re impotent?’

  ‘At times,’ he reasoned. After all, he had actually shagged her in the hot tub whilst her husband was downstairs. ‘It’s not you, Samantha, it’s me,’ he finished, trying to look as sorrowful as possible. It worked.

  ‘Right, well… perhaps you’d better go,’ she mumbled. As he was leaving she called to him, ‘And, Dylan!’

  ‘Yes?’ He turned to look at her.

  ‘Not a word of this to my husband. Or anyone else, for that matter. Do you understand?’

  ‘Of course.’ He closed the door behind him and gave a huge sigh of relief. He drove home with the windows down, the air brushing through his dark curls, the music at full volume and a wide smile on his face. He’d done it! He got the demanding Samantha off his back whilst still keeping her as a client. He felt buoyant, elated as he entered Flora’s house. She was asleep in the armchair. A book lay discarded by her lap. Picking it up, he smiled. it was Black Beauty. She’d told him it was her childhood favourite. He examined her peaceful face in slumber and marvelled at her fair, smooth complexion, full red lips and pale eyelashes. He bent down and kissed her cheek, he couldn’t help it. She stirred a little.

  ‘Shush,’ he gently whispered and stroked her hair. He couldn’t leave her. He didn’t want to go home alone.

  That evening he made them a roast chicken dinner with piles of vegetables. ‘I’ll never eat this, Dylan.’ Flora gazed at the plate in front of her. They were sitting at the kitchen table.

  ‘Try. It’s all good for you.’

  ‘You sound like my dad,’ she laughed. Dylan didn’t.

  ‘Do you think I’m old, Flora?’

  She laughed again. ‘No! At thirty? I was only joking.’

  Dylan’s eyes narrowed, deep in thought.

  ‘Flora, I’ve been thinking. Why don’t you come back to mine for a few days, just until you’re fully recovered?’

  ‘Your house?’

  ‘Yes. At least there I can get a decent night’s sleep. Not that I mind sleeping on your bedroom floor,’ he quickly added. He could see she was mulling it over. ‘You’ll have your own room, promise.’ His blue eyes twinkled with mischief. Her heartstrings started to pull; he really was a lovable rogue.

  ‘I’m not sure…’ She was stalling and they both knew it. Dylan pushed further.

  ‘That way I could get all the equipment sorted.’

  ‘Sorry, Dylan, I’ve been holding things up, haven’t I?’

  ‘Don’t be silly, you can’t help being ill.’

  Feeling slightly guilty Flora relented. ‘Yes, I’ll come back with you.’

  ‘Good, that’s settled then.’ Tactics worked; and bollocks to the separate rooms.

  Chapter 53

  ‘Tobias it’s exquisite,’ gasped Megan as she opened the small black velvet box.

  ‘It was my great-grandmother’s,’ he replied, enjoying her response at the sight of the diamond cluster halo ring set in rose gold. ‘Here, let me put it on.’ He took the ring from the box and placed it on Megan’s finger. A perfect fit.

  ‘So now it’s official,’ she said, a wave of apprehension hitting her as she contemplated what was to follow. Tobias was to announce their engagement to the press next week, once all their family members were notified. His mother and aunt had been told, as had Sebastian, who all had taken the news with pleasant surprise. Megan’s parents were shocked, but had been reassured when realising how happy their daughter evidently was. Tobias and Megan had decided not to mention the pregnancy just yet. Keeping that secret between themselves made it special. Tobias had teased her that the Lord of the Manor would only have married a pregnant bride in days of yore, to ascertain his heir.

  Megan had rolled her eyes. ‘Charming,’ she stated flatly. Then her thoughts turned. ‘Tobias, it must have happened the first time. You’ve always been so careful otherwise.’

  He looked her full in the face. The thought had crossed his mind, too.

  ‘These things happen, Megan. It was obviously meant to be.’ He didn’t regret it. He couldn’t. It was all he wanted. ‘How are you feeling now?’ He scanned her face for some form of assurance.

  ‘Much better. The shock’s worn off. It seems the most natural thing in the world now.’

  ‘Good,’ he replied, kissing her lips.

  Megan wrapped her arms round his neck. Everything felt so right, she couldn’t be happier.

  Chapter 54

  An uneasy intuition started to grow as he passed through the village lanes lined with green foliage. Through the open car window he smelt the winter wheat being cut in the fields. He observed a row of cottages through the windscreen and had a distinct feeling of déjà vu. Reading the signpost, it all became clear. Treweham. He was in the village where he and Megan had visited her gran.

  ‘What’s the name of the place we’re staying again?’

  ‘The Templar,’ she answered, squinting, trying to read the sat nav for directions.

  Adam’s thoughts turned to Megan, making him shift uncomfortably. She had left under a cloud, never returning to the office. Everybody had sussed out why, apart from the senior p
artners he was answerable to; he’d made sure of that. His fling with Moneypenny hadn’t lasted long. Once everyone knew what was going on, their dalliance proved to be more of an embarrassment, a far cry from the daring, exciting liaison it had started as. Plus the fact she had a stropping, six-foot boyfriend the size of a brick outhouse didn’t help matters. In the end Kay, Fay or May (he still couldn’t remember) had resigned and a new secretary had taken her place. Jennifer.

  Jennifer was quiet and conscientious. She was what he had described as ‘reasonably attractive’ to his mates, with her short, brown hair and trendy glasses. Jennifer was exceptionally good at her job, which made his life a whole lot easier. It was all very well taking Moneypenny over his desk, behind the filing cabinets and in the stationery store, but even he conceded some work had to be done. His new secretary’s super efficiency and eagerness to take on more work meant he had more time to himself. Instead of his evening poring over files whilst eating takeaway meals, he watched TV, went out with his mates, played football and enjoyed corporate events laid on by the firm. Jennifer was forever there, in the office tending to his every need. Well, almost every need. At first he thought she might be a lesbian. Why else would she ignore his subtle flirting? The lack of apparent interest increased his. It had been some time since a girl had played hard to get with him. It had been a challenge. Then after three months of sharing the same office, nine to five, five days a week, he had made a breakthrough. It was whilst she had been busy typing away at her computer, squinting at the report of legal acts and legislation in front of her that he had seized the moment.

  ‘Jennifer, have I been overworking you?’ Her face looked up from the printed sheets.

  ‘No,’ she said simply, and carried on typing.

  ‘You look tired. I blame myself. Jennifer, please stop typing.’ The irritation in his voice was enough to make her cease tapping away and give him her full attention. ‘Why don’t you let me take you out for lunch?’ he asked in a softer tone, accompanied with a winning smile.

  ‘Because you never ask me,’ she answered matter-of-factly. She had taken the question literally. Adam chewed his bottom lip. He’d never experienced someone quite like her. She was unusual, kind of quirky, the way she looked at things so black and white.

  ‘Well, I’m asking you now.’ He cocked his head to one side. Jennifer nodded.

  ‘Then, yes.’ She lowered her eyes back to the report and carried on typing. The conversation was apparently over. Jennifer’s idiosyncrasy kept Adam on his toes because he never quite knew how to read her. Taking her for granted was out of the question, for he wasn’t entirely certain if he had won her over in the first place.

  Lunch had been an interesting affair. Entering the Italian restaurant, he had been amazed at how many people she had known, politely nodding and saying hello to various tables. Even the staff had asked if she had wanted her usual tale. Curiosity getting the better of him, Adam enquired of her apparent popularity.

  ‘Daddy’s clients,’ she supplied, reading the menu.

  ‘What does… Daddy do?’

  ‘Lots of things. Mainly real estate.’

  ‘I see,’ Adam replied, his brain ticking into overdrive. Then the penny dropped. Jennifer Goldsmith. She was the daughter of Clifford Goldsmith, business tycoon. Settling into his chair, he smugly surveyed the wine list. Well, this had been worth persevering, hadn’t it?

  From then on Adam played it carefully. Understanding how Jennifer worked was an art in itself, but one he was determined to conquer. Adam was ambitious, a social climber, and her family, in particular her father, gave a whole new meaning to networking. Rubbing shoulders with Clifford Goldsmith would orbit him into a higher level altogether and he wasn’t about to mess up. It wouldn’t do his status any harm at the office either, once the senior partners got wind of his connections. So Adam had taken things slowly, gradually building up a relationship which, to everyone’s surprise, including his own, had started to gel quite nicely. She was a contrast to his rather vain manner. Her pragmatic approach cut to the chase. Instead of getting jealous when he had flirted with another girl one evening, she’d asked him directly, ‘If you’d prefer her company, what are you doing here with me?’ The confrontation had slightly embarrassed him, turning his flirtation into something pointless and childish, which in many ways it was. Jennifer had a knack of reaching the point immediately, completely hitting the nail on the head, which he found refreshing in a woman. It was almost like being with his mates, that no-nonsense, tell-it-like-it-is attitude.

  Physically, he had another battle on his hands. Jennifer was classy. She wore stylish clothes that very cleverly hinted at what lay beneath. Unlike Moneypenny, who had constantly showcased her trophies, Jennifer only allowed the slightest bit of bare flesh to be exposed, which skilfully left him wanting more. They say the mind is the most powerful sex organ in the body and Adam’s was haywire at the moment. Trying to read her signals, if indeed she was sending any, was impossible. One minute he thought he’d cracked it when she’d suggested a drink after work, only to discover it was with a group of them, not the cosy twosome he’d been expecting. She fitted in well with the office, being well liked by the girls in the admin team and also the management. He supposed it was because she was used to the business environment, having worked for her father. Adam was interested as to why she had applied for a position with his firm.

  ‘I need outside experience,’ she’d told him, ‘somewhere people accept me for who I am, not the boss’s daughter.’

  ‘Very wise,’ agreed Adam. Secretly he thought she was mad. Why put yourself through it? He’d be happy to be the boss’s son-in-law and wallow in all the trappings that brought.

  After four months of treading on eggshells and finally meeting the man himself, Clifford Goldsmith, Adam had plucked up the courage and invited Jennifer on a weekend away. He’d collared her one late afternoon, when the office was quiet. ‘Jennifer, I think we both deserve a break. Would you like to go away for the weekend?’

  ‘Where to?’ Forever practical, he thought. Did it matter as long as he could finally nail her?

  ‘Wherever you like, you decide.’

  ‘Leave it with me.’ She put the pile of letters awaiting his signature on his desk, reached for her coat and bid him goodbye. What exactly was that supposed to mean? He shook his head in exasperation. The following morning an itinerary, map and leaflet of an old country pub in the Cotswolds greeted him on his desk. Browsing through the material he was impressed with, not only her usual efficiency, but her choice of venue: A place to unwind and relax in a rustic, country setting, with inglenook fires, traditional food and a cosy, friendly atmosphere. This was hitting the spot, Jennifer had come up trumps again.

  ‘What do you think?’ She’d been watching him perusing her handiwork.

  ‘Perfect,’ he smiled.

  ‘We leave at 8.30 a.m. sharp on Saturday, arriving at approximately 11a.m.’

  ‘Sounds good.’ He stifled a laugh.

  ‘I’ll drive. I’m a safer driver than you.’

  Adam stared at her – was she joking? The serious face staring back told him she wasn’t. Big surprise.

  ‘Be ready,’ she finished curtly.

  That told him, didn’t it? Hell, what would she be like in the sack? he wondered, and not for the first time. It was a strange kind of arousal, a bit like fantasising over a teacher. He had to stifle another laugh.

  So, here they were, about to check into The Templar, in the village of Treweham. ‘We’ve booked a room for tonight,’ Adam told a red-headed girl behind the bar, ‘in the name of—’

  ‘Goldsmith,’ interrupted Jennifer with force.

  ‘Ah, yes, here we are.’ The girl ticked the name on the reservation list and handed him the key to the room. ‘Upstairs, it’s the first on the right,’ she smiled.

  Adam carried his and Jennifer’s case up the stairs. Opening the door he looked inside and stopped in his tracks. Twin beds. Typical.


  Chapter 55

  ‘It’s gorgeous!’ Finula admired the ring as Megan held out her left hand.

  ‘I know,’ she grinned back. It was Megan’s last day working at The Templar and she and Finula were in the kitchen. Although she’d miss working alongside her best friend, she couldn’t help but be excited at what lay ahead of her. Treweham Hall was now ready to be opened to the public. The tearoom was fully complete. It had a chic, classic finish with its pale silver-grey walls, white ornate coving and centrepiece chandelier. White linen tablecloths covered the tables, and each one had fresh flowers in a cut-glass vase. All the teapots, crockery and cake stands were fine white bone china and classical music was to be played softy in the background. The gift shop was fully stocked with Treweham Hall memorabilia, including the postcards of Megan’s painting, plus pictures had been made and were now available too. It was amazing, as Megan kept telling Tobias when he had shown her the finished project.

  She couldn’t wait to start working at Treweham Hall, much to Tobias’ appreciation. He was pleased she didn’t find the place so intimidating any more. After all, as he was fond of reminding her, it was going to be her home, too.

  Megan had gradually accustomed herself to the fact that Treweham Hall was indeed about to be her home. It felt surreal. She had tried her utmost to remember all the history about her new family-to-be, as part of her duty as a tour guide. She had practised her spiel, touring the rooms with Tobias.