‘Next on the agenda?’
‘Yes. Have you moved in with your brother for good or are you going to move back in with your parents? Are you even staying in London?’
‘That's a lot of questions, Tor, and I can't answer any of them.’ she said, picking up her napkin and unfolding it across her lap. ‘For once in my life, I'm making no plans. I'm enjoying setting up my business and…’
‘And that all sounds a little lonely. What about dates?’
‘What about them? I'm not one of those women that need a man to define them. I'm an independent modern woman who…’
He spread his hands wide. ‘Even independent women need love and affection from time to time. I know independent men do.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘And you are the man to provide it, are you?’
‘We were good together. We are still good together. I asked you earlier to keep an open mind and that's what I'm still asking,’ he added, moving his glass slightly to make room for his plate.
Glancing up with a smile, her gaze landed on the table across from them and the two women who were just taking their seats.
‘Oh no!’
That’s all she needed; her former friends, both of them here and heading her way. She was doomed, more than doomed. There was no way she was prepared to spend any time with them, not after what they’d done. Looking across at the man opposite, even now raising an eyebrow of enquiry at her sudden outburst, she came to a decision. He wanted to be hers; well he could start by getting in a little practice. Leaning forward she raised a hand, tracing her fingers across his face, ignoring his look of astonishment. ‘That would be wonderful, Tor, darling. Truly wonderful.’
‘Titania. Darling. Whatever are you doing here? We thought you'd fallen off a cliff.’
‘Hello Jacinta, Julietta,’ she said, standing to air kiss them both. ‘I'd like to introduce you to Lord Brayely. Tor, this is Jacinta Fitzarthur-Shloss and Juliette Harrington-Smyde.’
She watched him stand up and hold out his hand. You couldn't fault his manners. In fact, you couldn't fault anything about him from the top of his freshly brushed hair to his impeccable, bespoke tailored suit and highly polished black loafers. He looked exactly what he was; handsome, rich, titled and hers. He wasn't hers but they weren't to know that even as her heart dipped in her chest. He could be hers. Her parents wanted it and she was beginning to suspect, after the yellow roses, he still wanted it. The only sticking point was her.
Her eyes wandered over his broad shoulders and down to his narrow tapering hips. He said they’d be good together but he didn't have to say it. She knew they’d be good together. No. They’d be bloody fantastic and she wasn't just talking about the sex as she felt the warmth of a blush run up her neck. The sex would be amazing but it would lead to the most amazing children, something that was important to her. With their combined looks and his intelligence there’d be nothing to stop them achieving their dreams. There should be nothing to stop her from achieving her dream; her dream of being in Scotland leading a fairy-tale existence. There should be nothing to stop her except the fact he'd never told her he loved her.
He’d joined her now, one hand around her waist nudging their hips together while the other rubbed up and down her arm in the sensual intimacy of lovers.
‘So, where’ve you been then?’ Jacinta’s eyes fixed on Tor’s fingers. ‘We tried phoning but..?’
‘Oh, really? The reception in Scotland is so bad,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that right, darling?’ she added, lifting up her chin and placing a kiss against the corner of his mouth.
‘Absolutely frightful, dearest,’ the fingers on her waist giving her a gentle nip. ‘Yes, well. It was lovely to bump into you both but…’
‘We’re throwing a little party tomorrow and we’d love you to make it.’
‘Oh, I'm not sure. We already have plans.’ her eyes seeking out Tor’s.
‘Sweetie, we were only going out for dinner and I'm sure we can go on afterwards. Now I've met some of your friends, I think it would be a good opportunity to get to know them properly,’ he said, tilting his head in their direction. ‘I would ask you both to join us for lunch but, as we've nearly finished,’ his gaze now on their plates. ‘You do have the address, my love?’
Chapter Fourteen
‘What the hell were you doing?’
‘What?’ His voice innocent.
‘Agreeing to go to their party? Those two are the reason…’
‘The reason for..?’
‘The reason I went up to Scotland.’
‘The reason you went up to Scotland? I don't understand?’
‘Well, understand this. They are not my friends,’ her voice cracking. ‘I thought they were, but they're not. They were only ever after what they could get, for what they still think they can get.’
He watched as she pushed her chair back before making her way out of the restaurant and, presumably to the restroom. With a wave of his hand he beckoned the waiter for the bill, his gaze still aimed at the door while he waited for her return. He would still have been waiting. She'd have left him waiting forever. After he’d paid and collected her coat and bag he finally caught up with her as she headed across reception to the exit.
‘Hey, where are you off to?’
‘Lunch is finished. That was all you invited me for, wasn't it, Tor?” she said, ensuring her face was turned away from his.
He knew she was crying. He could see it in the way her shoulders were heaving up and down but he said nothing. He hated wailing women. It was something his female students used to do when things didn’t go their own way. His wife used to do it and as for his mother – his father used to call her the Weeping Willowmina, something she’d hated above all else.
But Tansy’s tears were different as he squashed down the snarky comment building on the tip of his tongue. For a start, she wasn’t wailing. Apart from the odd sniffle, there was no sound coming from her at all. She was hiding her distress the best she could and his heart shifted at the thought of her trying to hide anything from him, most of all her feelings.
Was he such a beast that she wasn't prepared to turn to him for comfort? his eyes drawn to her averted head. He realised, with a start, he’d been alone so long he’d forgotten what it was like to be with a woman in more than the work setting. He knew he was short tempered on occasion but for her to turn away from him the way she was doing was a salutary lesson. She’d cried the last time too, he remembered. She’d cried when she’d been hurt and in pain but these tears were different. It was as if something was breaking inside, something he couldn’t heal with a hug or a smile. He wanted to draw her into his arms, resting her head on his chest as he rubbed her back; as he absorbed her sadness onto his own shoulders but she wouldn’t want that.
Instead of doing what he wanted, for once, he did what he felt she’d accept, at least from him. Draping her coat over her shoulders he took hold of her elbow with a gentle hand and directed her towards his car.
‘I don't need a…’
‘A lift? Where I come from, the date doesn't end at the restaurant door. I'll see you home first.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Well, that's a fine welcome, I must say. Here I am with supper and all you can say is what are you doing here.’
The afternoon had passed on wings and now he was back at her door for the second time that day, for the second attempt in the art of seduction, or should that be courting? He didn’t want to seduce Tansy. No, that wasn't quite true. He did want to seduce her but only after the wedding ring was securely on her finger with extra-strong Superglue. He’d waited this long, he could wait just a little longer. So, here he was for act two. He had food, he had beer, he had chocolate…
‘Hello, Tor. Now what are you doing here?’ she added, her eyes on the bag as she placed both hands on her hips. ‘And more importantly what's for supper? Hamilton is out tonight so I…’ She threw him a look laden with suspicion. ‘Funny that, Hamilton bein
g out? He’s only just texted about a last minute business meeting. You wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you?’
‘Me? If I was meeting Hamilton for a business meeting what would I be doing standing at your door?’
He watched her sigh in frustration.
‘You'd better come in then, although I hope it's not Chinese. I'm allergic.’
‘No, I knew that. That's why I got Indian,’ he replied, following her into the kitchen.
‘How did you know, I don't remember ever telling you?’
‘Oh, I'm sure you must have said, otherwise how would I have known?’
‘I have no idea.’
She took out a couple of matching plain white plates in addition to forks and a serving spoon while he removed boxes and cardboard covers to reveal chicken tikka masala and rice with fluffy naan bread.
‘Now, I really am suspicious,’ she said as she joined him. ‘How did you know chicken tikka is my all-time favourite?’
‘Oh, lucky guess, I suppose,’ he said with a twinkle before starting to serve her.
‘A likely story. I forgot drinks, what would you like? We have…’
‘All sorted, Tansy,’ he said, pulling out a couple of bottles of Cobra before using the bottle opener on his keyring to flip off the tops. ‘You can't have curry without Indian beer, it's a rule.’
She laughed. ‘And just who's rule would that be?’
‘Not mine,’ he said, joining her in a wry smile. ‘Anyone who’s shared halls of residence would tell you.’
‘Ah, well that's where we differ then. I'm thick; I never made it to university.’
He took her hand and, turning it over gently encased it between his own. ‘We can't all be the same. You have skills, special skills that I couldn't dream of having.’
‘Like what? Making bread is easy,’ she said, tearing off a piece of naan and handing it to him.
‘Not the way you make it. We all agreed at the castle that none of us had ever tasted anything like it.’ He smiled, looking her in the eye. ‘Why do you think you've suddenly hit it at The Shard? It's certainly not from lack of competitors. Hamilton was telling me as soon as they tasted your bacon rolls they sacked their previous supplier.’
‘He didn't tell me that. If I'd known someone else was supplying them…’ She frowned.
‘I wouldn't worry about it. I'm sure they have enough business to be going on with, and anyway I've had those sorts of sandwiches before and they’re not a patch on what you make.’
‘I didn't think mycologists would be attending meetings at The Shard?’
‘Yeah, that's what you know,’ he said, leaning forward and tapping the end of her nose with his knuckle. ‘I also have a castle and lands to run and sadly, money doesn't grow on trees. Someone has to pay for it all. Someone has to ensure the tenant farmers are well looked after. For that I need money. And for that money to work, it needs to be invested, hence my occasional meetings at The Shard. Although I have to say, I do keep them to the minimum,’ he added, glancing down at his jeans and pristine white shirt with the cuffs rolled back. ‘As you can probably tell, wearing a suit isn't my thing. In fact this is well-dressed for me.’ His eyes now on her leggings and scruffy T-shirt with the words bread is the meaning of life emblazoned on the back and the picture of a baguette on the front. ‘I like the T-shirt by the way, very fetching!’ His gaze now on her chest and where it moulded to her frame with all the precision of a second skin.
‘You would,’ as she quirked an eyebrow. ‘It shrank in the wash and, as I wasn't expecting visitors, I didn’t think anyone would see,’ she said, taking a sip from her beer.
‘Really, I thought you'd be out on the tiles with your friends?’
‘Those two are no friends of mine and I have no idea why you accepted the invitation. I've a good mind not to go.’
‘Oh, you are going and I'm going to escort you. Did you never learn that attack is the best form of defence or that revenge is a dish best served cold? I don’t know what it was they did to upset you but, surely that’s over? I’ll be around to keep you out of their dastardly clutches,’ his voice now a cross between a Dalek and Darth Vader as his hands clawed towards her neck.
She eyed him over the top of her beer. ‘You don't understand what you're doing messing with those freeloaders. It's only taken me the last fifteen years to realise the less I see or hear of them, the better. I’ll go to the party but that's it. Please don't accept any more invitations from them because I certainly won't be attending and no more of the funny voices already. You’re not that good.’
‘I’m wounded to the core.’ His hand clutched to his chest.
‘Well, be wounded and while you’re doing the dying duck act, what about a coffee before you go?’ she said, starting to gather together the empty plates.
He glanced at his watch with a smile. ‘It's a good job I brought along pudding then isn't it or you'd be throwing me out before the clock has even reached eight? Is that pumpkin time, sweetheart?’ he added, reaching into the bottom of the bag and producing a box of triple chocolate muffins. ‘Obviously they won't be as good as yours but…’
‘As long as I didn't have to make them, they'll be fantastic,’ she said, grinding coffee beans before adding them to the top of the peculator. ‘Whilst I love cooking, its lovely to eat something you haven't cooked for a change, which makes the Indian and then pudding all the more enjoyable, so thank you. I'm sorry I'm a bit of a wet blanket at the moment but those two always get me down and…’ She threw him a sweet smile that had his heart leaping about in his chest like a kangaroo on a trampoline. ‘And you’re not that bad at accents. You’re not that good but better than I made out.’
He raised his beer bottle to her.
‘Here’s looking at you, kid.’
Sitting beside her on Hamilton’s sofa in front of the wood burner with a mug cradled on his lap was one of the most enjoyable experiences. She’d lowered the lights and, fiddling with one of the remotes on the coffee table, had put on some soft playing music in the background. He didn't know what it was but the gentle notes punctuating the air with melody made the evening perfect. Or at least it would have been perfect if she hadn’t been hugging the other end of the sofa as if her life depended on it. He smiled to himself at the sight of her with her feet tucked under her, her head resting back as she listened to the music. This was contentment. This was happiness. This was pure unadulterated love, just this – here – now – with her.
He never wanted it to end but, with the clock ticking towards eleven, it was time to go. He'd promised Hamilton he'd leave before midnight, a grin appearing. Hamilton had offered to spend the evening at his parents but not the night. He’d need to know quite a bit more about him if he was going to allow him stay the night with his sister. Good he didn’t know about Belnahua then or he probably wouldn’t have agreed to make himself scarce. If he’d had a sister he’d have liked a brother like Hamilton to be there for her. He was a good man, or he would be if he could only get him on his side.
Stretching his arms above his head he went to stand.
‘Well, thank you for a lovely evening but I suppose it's time I was going.’
She glanced up in surprise. ‘Where are you spending the night?’
‘Why, are you offering to put me up?’
He noticed the blush score her cheek with amusement even as she said a resounding no. ‘Hamilton only has two bedrooms and I'm sure he wouldn't give up his bed for you.’
‘And your bed wouldn't be big enough to share?’
‘I'm not offering you my bed, Tor. I'm not offering you anything even a...’ She didn't finish the sentence, her eyes wide. ‘You're not heading back to Scotland this late are you?’
‘No, you seem to have forgotten that tomorrow I'm escorting you to the party you don't want to go to. But, to make it up to you, I'll take you out for dinner first.’
‘There’s no need to do that…’
‘Yes, there is; every need. P
ut your glad-rags on because, if there’s time, we might go dancing. That is, if you’d like to?’ he added.
She joined him at the door and placed a hand on his arm. ‘I’d like to know why you're doing this?’
Settling her arm around his waist he cradled her face within his hands, smoothing the pad of his thumb across her cheek. ‘It's time we got to know each other. I like you, I like you a lot. In fact,’ he paused, his eyes flickering away before returning to her face. ‘In fact, I'd like to marry you,’ his head dipping towards her.
She tasted of coffee and chocolate, her lips silken sweet under his, and if he died now he’d die a happy man. A lightning bolt could cleave out of the sky and pin him to the ground and he wouldn't care a jot. The only thing he’d care about was leaving her behind. Holding her within his arms was the happiest he’d ever felt. What he'd had with his first wife couldn’t have been love because it hadn't been anything like this. Now he was with somebody who meant more to him than life itself, although she obviously didn't feel quite the same as he felt her starting to pull away.
‘So you're what, you're wooing me?’
‘If that's what you'd like to call a proposal of marriage, then yes,’ his mouth pulled into a thin line. ‘So I take it your answer is no?’
She placed a hand in the middle of his chest, reaching behind him to open the door. But before she pushed him out she raised her lips to his for the briefest whisper of a kiss.
‘Yes, that's a no; a no for now. But carry on with the wooing, I quite like it.’
Chapter Fifteen
She missed him the following day and she didn't like it, she didn't like it one little bit. She knew he'd said he'd see her in the evening but that didn't stop her looking over her shoulder every five minutes; that didn't stop her glancing at the phone and that didn't stop her thinking about him every second of every minute of every hour.
The Englishwoman Trilogy: Box set of: Englishwoman in Paris, Englishwoman in Scotland, Englishwoman in Manhattan Page 31
