A Country Scandal: a sexy, scandalous page-turner

by Sasha Morgan

  ‘Welcome to Treweham Hall, home of the Cavendish-Blakes since the early fifteenth century.’

  ‘Sixteenth century,’ corrected Tobias.

  ‘Sorry, sixteenth century. Treweham Hall is set in a three-hundred-acre estate—’

  ‘Three thousand.’

  ‘Sorry, three-thousand-acre estate. The Cavendish-Blakes had strong connections to the Knights Templar from 1129.’

  ‘Good,’ nodded Tobias with a grin.

  ‘We are currently in what was originally the Billiard Room. Note the pretty light in the ceiling, which illuminated the billiard table. We will now move into the Principal Bedroom.’

  ‘Sounds interesting,’ Tobias raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Shush, I’m concentrating.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Megan ushered Tobias to the next room.

  ‘This room started out as the bridal suite of Sir James and Lady Cavendish-Blake in the sixteenth century. The four-poster bed has accommodated many royal visitors, including Edward, Prince of Wales and Wallis Simpson.’ She paused. ‘Is that actually true?’

  ‘It can be,’ he replied drily.

  ‘Moving on to the Music Room …’ She brushed past him, and he pinched her bottom.

  ‘No fondling the staff, please, my lord,’ she threw over her shoulder.

  ‘Is that not my prerogative?’ he teased, following behind her.

  Ignoring him she continued, ‘Here the Music Room boasts an impressive Steinway piano. Feel free to have a tinkle,’ she added with a giggle.

  ‘No tinkling allowed,’ he replied, folding his arms.

  ‘Now for the Chapel. Please follow me.’ Tobias did as he was told. ‘The family chapel features a late eighteenth-century Gillow altar front and is in regular use for family occasions, mainly christening and weddings.’

  ‘The next one being ours.’ Tobias stood in front of her and pulled her into him. She smiled up and he kissed her slowly and thoroughly. Megan’s heart still fluttered uncontrollably when he touched her. Her hands ran through his dark, shiny hair, loving the texture. Finally they pulled apart.

  ‘How was I?’

  ‘Sensational.’

  ‘Tobias, when should we set the date?’

  ‘Right now. Let’s get married next month. We’ll marry here in the Chapel and have the reception in the Great Hall. It won’t take too much arranging.’

  ‘Don’t you ever slow down?’ she laughed.

  ‘Get used to it, Lady Cavendish-Blake-to-be.’ He held her again, once more thanking his lucky stars.

  Finula was still in awe of the ring. ‘I’m so happy for you both,’ she said, bringing Megan back from her thoughts of the changes awaiting her.

  ‘Thanks, Fin.’ Then, mentally shaking herself, Megan asked, ‘So, just two breakfasts to serve?’

  ‘Yes. Just the couple from last night.’ She slid the bacon and eggs onto the plates and handed them to Megan.

  Walking through into the restaurant area, Megan caught sight of the back of a head she recognised instantly. She halted. Surely, it couldn’t be? But that self-assured demeanour spoke volumes. She observed him pour his orange juice, flick open the morning’s newspaper and check his watch. Who was he waiting for? Then in she came, a pretty girl with glasses. Immediately he stood up when she joined him at the table. Still the same old charmer, she thought ironically. Instead of showing reluctance, Megan walked confidently, shoulders back, her head held high. Who needed a rat like Adam? She had Tobias Cavendish-Blake.

  With a breezy smile she approached the table. ‘Two full English breakfasts.’ Adam’s eyes met hers. He spluttered on his orange, splashing the white tablecloth.

  ‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ she soothed sarcastically.

  ‘Megan?’ he choked.

  ‘The very same.’ She placed the two plates down.

  ‘Do you two know each other?’ asked the girl with a quizzical expression.

  ‘We did, unfortunately,’ retorted Megan, and turned on her heel and flounced off.

  Dashing into the kitchen, she couldn’t wait to tell Finula. ‘Fin, it’s Adam in there!’ she hissed.

  ‘Adam?’

  ‘You know, the ex who I caught with his hands up—’

  ‘His secretary’s skirt,’ finished Finula. ‘Well, well, well.’

  After a rather uncomfortable breakfast Adam and Jennifer packed and made their way down to check out. Megan made sure she was about, next to Finula at the bar.

  ‘Enjoy your stay, sir?’ asked Finula.

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ He looked sideways at Megan and swallowed. He couldn’t fail to notice the diamond ring she was practically displaying as she wiped the bar. ‘Who’s the lucky man?’ He attempted to lighten the atmosphere.

  ‘Lord Cavendish-Blake,’ supplied Finula. Adam’s mouth opened wide in disbelief.

  ‘Close your mouth, Adam, it’s not a good look,’ said Megan smiling sweetly, then asked innocently, ‘How’s your secretary, the one I caught you groping in your office?’

  Jennifer, who had had quite enough, picked up her case and told him sharply, ‘I’m off. Make your own way home.’

  Chapter 56

  Flora sat on the bed and scanned the room. It was the complete opposite to hers, being very tidy and minimal, with bare cream walls and dark patterned bedding. It was next door to Dylan’s room, joined by a bathroom with two Jack-and-Jill doors. She could hear him in the shower whilst she unpacked the few clothes she’d brought with her. Flora was definitely on the mend, but still a little weak and tired. Despite her initial reservations she was glad to be here in Dylan’s home. Secretly she had been dreading him leaving, still not feeling confident enough to be left alone, but hating the thought of Dylan being with her under sufferance, or obligation. Here he had his own space and a comfortable bed, not the hardness of her bedroom floor. Flora wondered how she would have coped without him, then instantly stopped herself. She mustn’t get needy or attached. He was her employer now.

  He knocked on her door, then poked his head round. His dark curls were wet, as was the dark chest sticking out from behind the door. ‘All done, bathroom’s free.’ He noticed Flora’s eyes home in on his bare torso. He stood there a moment longer, giving her the full benefit.

  ‘Er… right, thanks,’ she blinked, and turned away blushing.

  Dylan smirked to himself. Plenty more where that came from. He was going to make it very difficult for Flora to resist him.

  ‘Do you want me to run you a bath?’ He stepped further into her room and stood there in nothing but a towel. Flora couldn’t tear her eyes away from his body. She had almost forgotten how well toned he was. His regular visits to the gym and good diet most definitely paid off. Suddenly images of the Racer commercial flashed into her mind and she started to giggle.

  Not really wanting or expecting this response Dylan asked rather defensively, ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘You, dressed like that in a towel.’ Then she imitated his deep voice, ‘Never be pipped at the post. I always win wearing Racer,’ then winked.

  ‘Oh, very funny, Flora,’ he answered with a half-smiling, half-challenging look. ‘Any more of that and I’ll tickle you.’ He remembered exactly where her soft spot was, under her arms. She started to giggle again at him. ‘Right, you asked for this.’ He jumped onto the bed and began tickling her mercilessly.

  ‘Dylan, stop!’ She laughed and wriggled on the bed underneath him.

  ‘No way.’ He knelt over her, his hands snatching at her body, making her hysterical. Finally he relented. Tears poured down her cheeks, her chest was panting up and down. ‘Surrender?’ he asked, staring into her face.

  ‘Never,’ she replied, staring back.

  ‘Right, here we go again.’ He grabbed under her arms.

  ‘No! I surrender,’ she cried.

  ‘That’s better.’ He stopped and looked into her eyes, then dipped his head momentarily. Flora froze. Was he going to kiss her? She closed her eyes. Nothing happened. She opened them to find Dylan climbing o
ff her. ‘Let’s get moving. There’s lots to do.’

  Flora took a deep breath and reminded herself why she was there, as his employee.

  Half an hour later they were in Dylan’s large garage surrounded by all the stock they had ordered. He passed her a clipboard with the invoice and the order. Whilst he checked each item had been delivered, Flora ticked it off the list. After an hour and all the items had been accounted for, they started to load what they could into Dylan’s Jeep and trailer. Flora carried the smaller, lighter items, leaving the heavier, bulkier ones for Dylan to heave about. She marvelled at his strength, watching his muscular shoulders and arms at work. He clocked her staring at him and smirked again to himself. He was a patient man; he’d bide his time. She was looking pretty damn cute too, in her skinny jeans displaying her sexy curves and thin, strappy top which her nipples poked against. The sexual tension between the two of them was evident, and they both could sense it rising.

  ‘You look tired, Flora.’ He was concerned, hoping he hadn’t overworked her. They’d finally finished loading most of the stock.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she lied, obviously not convincingly, though, as Dylan put his arm round her shoulders.

  ‘Come on, it’s lunchtime.’ He led her back into the house. ‘You sit at the breakfast bar and I’ll make us a sandwich.’

  Flora was glad to rest her legs. She glanced round. It was a typical man’s kitchen, she thought, with its glossy black units and granite worktops. The walls were white tiled. He seemed to have every gadget under the sun, from the complicated-looking silver coffee machine to the chrome blender. It was a far cry from the farmhouse-style kitchen at home, with its wooden doors and open shelves packed with mismatched crockery.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ He watched her eyes dart around the room.

  ‘Just how clinically clean and tidy your house it. It’s very masculine, isn’t it?’

  ‘You saying it needs a woman’s touch?’ He arched an eyebrow.

  ‘No!’ she quickly replied, not wanting to cause offence.

  He shrugged. ‘I’m open to offers,’ he smiled.

  Flora blushed and looked down. She was so easy to rib and easy to read. An open book – that was her charm he had come to understand. Flora had an honest, simple way about her he couldn’t help but warm to. She’d make a wonderful mum. His thought pattern alarmed him. Never had he ever considered this with any other woman. He cast another look at her whilst busy making the sandwiches, propped up on the stool, elbows on the breakfast bar looking so innocent, yet still a touch pasty-faced. Perhaps she’d done too much this morning, fetching and carrying. He cursed himself for not taking better care of her.

  ‘Do you fancy looking at the stable yard this afternoon? It’s almost finished.’

  Her face lit up. ‘Yes! I’d love to see it.’ Then she asked, ‘Have you advertised for the stable staff yet?’

  ‘Don’t need to. Three of Sean Fox’s staff have asked me for jobs.’

  ‘Really? Won’t he mind?’

  ‘Tough if he does. I don’t blame them for jumping ship, the way he treats them.’

  Flora looked worried. ‘Are they older than me?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter how old they are. You’re the assistant trainer, Flora, remember that,’ he told her firmly. He so wanted to inject some confidence in her, if only she knew how good she was.

  After lunch Flora fell asleep on Dylan’s enormous leather settee. He didn’t want to wake her; obviously she was exhausted. Instead of going to the stable yard, he put a lamb joint in the oven and caught up with his paperwork. He’d been paid for the commercial, which would set him up nicely for at least a year. His agent mentioned a publisher making enquiries about proposing someone to write his biography, which Dylan was dubious about, but may consider in time. Tobias’ solicitor had drawn up a contract for the lease of the stables, which needed signing, various sponsors had approached him to wear their clothes and watches, and two more prospective owners had made enquiries about the training yard. Things were looking good. A British Horseracing Authority inspector was to visit the yard in a week, so that had to take priority. Flora began to rouse, and she watched him sitting at his bureau in the corner of the lounge, deep in concentration. A framed photograph of three young boys stood on the top of the bureau. She got up and walked towards it, making him jump.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, taking the picture, ‘didn’t mean to startle you.’ Flora examined the photo. ‘Who are they?’ she asked.

  ‘Me and my brothers, taken on holiday years ago.’

  ‘How old were you?’

  He pointed to the boy in the middle. ‘That’s me aged seven. Michael, the eldest, was nine and Liam four.’

  ‘Was it Liam who texted the other night drunk?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You said it was your brother who had texted?’

  ‘Ah, yes.’

  Flora smiled at the little boy with dark curls and a cheeky grin. Nothing had changed. ‘Feeling better?’ he asked, anxious that he had overworked her.

  ‘Yes, thanks. Something smells good.’ How would she cope on her own, chiselling ready-made meals from the freezer in future?

  ‘Lamb.’

  ‘Lovely. Thanks, Dylan.’ She meant it. Despite what had happened in the past, she sincerely appreciated the way he was looking after her.

  After dinner Flora asked if he had any more photos of him as a child. The framed picture of him and his brothers had intrigued her. He took out a couple of albums from a bookcase and together they browsed through them on the settee, laughing together at the antics caught on camera. Flora felt like she was beginning to know yet another side to Dylan. It was evident that family mattered to him and that he had a close relationship with his brothers. There was always a horse about, Dylan riding, or competing and winning a trophy, very much like her. They had finished a bottle of wine and were totally relaxed, leaning into each other. Flora loved the warmth of his body against hers. He was such a comfort. Never had she been so torn.

  ‘It’s late, we better get some sleep.’ Dylan closed the photo albums and helped Flora to her feet. ‘You go up. I’ll make us a hot chocolate.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Flora suddenly craved a comfortable bed and a hot chocolate under the covers. She climbed the stairs and made her way into the bedroom, undressed, slipped on her silky nightshirt and tumbled into bed. There was a knock at the door.

  ‘Come in.’ Dylan held two cups, he passed her one and sat on the bed. He turned the bedside light on, giving the room a cosy, warm glow. ‘Thanks for looking after me, Dylan.’

  He gazed at her for a moment, then hesitated. She looked searchingly at him: what was he going to say? After a few moments he spoke quietly.

  ‘Flora, I don’t want you to go.’

  What did he mean? Stunned, she remained silent.

  He coughed awkwardly. ‘I… I want you to stay.’ She stared at him speechless. He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing that dark, muscular chest she had so admired. Then he unbuttoned his jeans and slid them off. He wasn’t wearing anything under them. Flora stared at his naked body and gulped. She put her cup down on the bedside cabinet. He gently slid in next to her. His skin was soft and warm against hers. It would be all too easy to sink into his arms and let him devour her but she stilled. ‘What is it, Flora?’ he asked softly.

  ‘I can’t. Sorry.’

  He waited. What did he expect after the way he had treated her?

  ‘Would it help if I told you how deeply ashamed I am of the way I behaved towards you, and promise never to hurt you again?’

  ‘It might,’ she replied in a small voice.

  ‘Let me hold you, Flora, please.’ She slid onto his chest and he wrapped his arms tightly round her. He kissed her forehead. ‘Just sleep, here with me,’ he whispered. And she did, in a peaceful, heavenly slumber.

  Chapter 57

  ‘So, here’s to the grand opening.’ Finula clinked her glass with Megan’s.

  ‘I can’t
believe it’s actually happening. It’s mayhem up at the Hall.’ Megan took a huge gulp of her non-alcoholic wine. She was at fever pitch. All day she’d been putting the last-minute touches to the rooms, making sure everything was in place. The tearoom was to be staffed by a team she had selected from the kitchen who were happy to assist. Sebastian had returned home like the prodigal son and announced he would act as a tour guide, much to the relief of Megan, who was glad of the support.

  Meanwhile Tobias was with Dylan, overseeing the last stages of the stable yard. Tobias had shown it to Megan, Sebastian, Beatrice and Celia, and all were impressed by the building and the facilities he and Dylan had created. As were the several racehorse owners who had come to look round. Megan noticed that Tobias seemed more relaxed, as far as finances were concerned. He was convinced the stable yard promised to be the saving of Treweham Hall.

  Sebastian also seemed a little more tranquil. Having time away from Treweham village, and Nick, had given him space to think. He had discussed his future with Tobias and had decided to rent a house in Stratford-upon-Avon, as he had landed a role at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre. He wanted distance away from Nick. Tobias couldn’t agree more with Sebastian’s plans.

  Even Celia was on form since returning from her cruise. She had congratulated Megan on the engagement to her ‘remarkable nephew’ and admired her ring. The transformation in her was incredible, when Megan compared this bright-eyed, sharp lady to the cantankerous old bag in tweed of a few months ago. Celia had invited Wilfrid to attend the wedding as her guest. Wilfrid had been over the moon at the invitation and even more so when he read where the wedding was taking place. He was to be a guest of Lord Cavendish-Blake and stay at Treweham Hall? My goodness.

  Beatrice was in raptures over the plans for the wedding. Although Tobias and Megan had insisted it was to be a small, intimate affair, she had other ideas. Beatrice didn’t do small. Treweham Hall didn’t do small, either. She would ensure that her son and heir’s wedding would be the spectacular occasion it should be. Blow the expense, this was as much her day as theirs.

  Megan had picked her wedding dress and had asked Finula to be bridesmaid. Now they were sitting in Megan’s lounge sipping a well-earned glass of sparkling non-alcoholic wine.