by Sasha Morgan
‘Yep. Time to go.’ Jamie’s throat dried up. He couldn’t say another word for fear of showing emotion. Sebastian stared into those smoky-grey eyes that he had grown so accustomed to. The thought of never gazing into them again gripped him with panic.
‘Any plans for Christmas?’
‘Er… not really. Probably go to my mum and dad’s.’ There was a pregnant pause.
‘Stay.’ Sebastian was still staring. ‘At Treweham Hall, as my guest.’
Jamie was floored. It took a moment for the invitation to sink in. Then a warm, blissful wave of happiness washed over him.
‘Yes please, I… I’d like that very much.’
46
Immediately after the races, deciding to strike while the iron was hot, Dylan had contacted Graham Roper. Trying to sound nonchalant, he calmly told him he had a possible buyer for his horse. The relief in Roper’s voice was encouraging and Dylan was hopeful he would be able to wrap the deal up quickly, without any complications or suspicion. If Roper had any inkling of Phoenix’s potential as a jump racer, the whole thing would collapse. The horse would be whisked away and sold elsewhere for a fortune. Dylan again thought about the consequences this would have on Flora and willed himself to stay composed and neutral.
‘Good, that’s a bloody relief. Who wants it?’
‘Some bloke in the village. Lottery winner, apparently. He fancies owning a horse.’
‘More fool him,’ sniggered Roper. ‘What’s he prepared to pay?’
This was where Dylan had to be careful. Realistically, the ballpark figure for a horse without any racing promise would be a few thousand. But wanting to entice Roper, who was a businessman, meant pitching it competitively, yet without causing any suspicion.
‘Five grand,’ Dylan replied firmly, and waited for a response.
‘Try and get a couple more out of him.’ Anticipating Roper’s greed, Dylan had been prepared.
‘I’d say two’s a little ambitious. Try one more thousand?’
‘Hmm,’ grunted Roper, ‘OK. Six grand and that’s it.’
‘I’ll talk to him and get back to you.’
‘Within the hour, Delany. I’m not wasting any more time.’ Dylan gripped the phone and bit his tongue. Then he heard the receiver slam down.
After waiting twenty minutes patiently going through some admin, Dylan once more rang Graham Roper.
‘Yes, he’ll pay six thousand,’ he told him curtly.
‘Right, if you get the paperwork in order, I’ll come and sign. Tell him I want the money by the end of the week.’
Dylan was on the brink of telling him to sort out the admin himself, but managed to resist. This time next week Phoenix would be theirs and he’d never have to lay eyes on that bastard Roper again. Taking a deep breath to control his temper, Dylan replied with a cool voice that the necessary arrangements would be made.
He left the yard office and took another deep breath. The cold air stung his lungs. Blowing on his hands to warm them, he made his way to Phoenix’s stable. As he’d predicted, Flora was there brushing him down, talking gently to him. He stood and watched for a moment, imagining her glee at being told Phoenix would soon be here to stay. But no, he’d save that surprise for her birthday tomorrow. He’d also been to the jewellers to pick up her other present from him. He laughed to himself, not knowing which she’d be happiest about.
‘Hello, you,’ she said, turning and smiling.
‘Hi.’ He nuzzled into her neck, loving the fresh floral scent of her. He turned her face towards him. They shared a long, sensuous kiss, arousing Dylan and making Phoenix snort with envy. ‘Don’t be late,’ he coaxed, finally releasing her lips. ‘I’ll have dinner ready in an hour.’
‘OK,’ nodded Flora, then patted an impatient Phoenix who was demanding her attention.
*
The next morning Flora was woken with breakfast in bed. Dylan had brought up a tray laden with two full English breakfasts, coffee and a small pile of birthday post. There was also a little silver box with a black ribbon tied round it.
‘Happy birthday, Flora.’ He kissed her lips, then carefully manoeuvred the tray onto the bed.
‘Oh, this is lovely, Dylan! Thank you.’ She began opening her mail, swallowing down the emotion when she came to her parents’ card. She missed them and was so looking forward to their return from travelling. Then she took the small silver parcel. Unwrapping it with care, she revealed a white velvet box. Opening it up, she gasped with delight. A beautiful silver horseshoe charm studded with diamonds twinkled up at her. It was attached to a thin, silver chain. ‘Dylan, it’s gorgeous,’ she exclaimed.
‘You like it, then?’ he smiled.
‘I love it!’
‘Here, let me put it on.’
He leant forward and fastened the necklace round her slender neck.
‘Right, eat up,’ he said. ‘Then we’re off to the yard.’
They had arranged to ride together, something they hadn’t found the time to do for too long. Dylan had also booked a table at The Templar for lunch, wanting to spend as much quality time with Flora as possible. He hoped that Josh, their stable hand, had followed his instructions.
Together they entered Phoenix’s stable and Flora noticed something threaded in his mane. It was a white envelope. Frowning, she took it out from the horse’s locks and opened it. Inside was a letter she instantly recognised was in Dylan’s handwriting.
Dearest Flora,
Your wonderful Dylan has seen to it that I never have to leave these stables. I am yours for ever.
P.S. Although I know you spend every waking hour tending to me, I think he deserves far more loving attention.
Phoenix
Her face crumpled with joy, tears glistened in her eyes.
‘Oh, Dylan… is he actually ours?’ she choked.
‘Well, half, technically. Me and Gary have formed a joint partnership.’
‘Really?’ she laughed.
‘Really,’ he nodded, loving her reaction. ‘We’ve called him “The Last Laugh”. Hopefully Roper will rue the day he wrote Phoenix off.’
Flora suddenly looked sombre. ‘Could he claim him back?’
‘No. Everything’s in order. He’s no idea I’m involved.’
‘Oh, Dylan…’ She hugged him hard.
For once Phoenix didn’t mind. It was as if the horse instinctively knew he’d found his way home.
47
Treweham Hall stood proud and majestic in the snowy white landscape. Smoke puffed softly from the many chimney pots atop the roof. Inside, the open fires crackled, the mulled wine flowed and the festive music played gently in the background. It was Christmas Eve and, like every year at this time, Treweham Hall hosted a drinks party for family, friends and all the estate workers. This year would see two new guests. Jamie, as Sebastian’s house guest, would be there, and also Marcus, who reluctantly had accepted his invitation, due to a very persuasive Finula.
‘Oh, do come, Marcus. It’ll be fun!’ she’d urged him when opening the pale green invitation with gold, italic writing. It was decorated with a holly and berry border and headed with the Cavendish-Blake coat of arms. Even the invitations smacked of pomp and ceremony, thought Marcus with derision.
‘Finula, I’m sure Tobias – or indeed any of the Cavendish-Blakes – don’t really want to see my face. My name’s been included through politeness to you.’
‘No it hasn’t!’ Finula vehemently denied. ‘Megan wants you there.’
That, he had to concede, was probably true. He did have a liking for Megan; she was a warm, friendly person. What she saw in her husband he’d never understand.
‘Must I?’ he looked at Finula pleadingly.
‘Yes, you must,’ she replied firmly, then wrapped her arms around his body in an attempt to appease him. It worked. Marcus loved being hugged by Finula. She exuded sincerity and comfort, something he had realised he needed. Marcus was missing his mother dreadfully, of course, especially at this time of
year. His mind shot back to last Christmas, when he’d been nursing her thin, frail body. He badly needed to talk about it, to confide in someone, but something always stopped him. He just could not let it go. Being an only child meant he’d not had that sibling support. And since being an orphan he’d not had any other parental support either. His thoughts turned, as always, towards the unfairness of his two half-brothers having a very different upbringing. Their childhoods had been blessed with the love of both parents, with all the privileges that brought. He reminisced about how his mother had worked hard to support them both without any help at all.
The injustices raged inside Marcus. At least plotting his revenge had given him some solace, something to focus on, but now that was beginning to give him extra grief, too, because that meant jeopardising his relationship with Finula. He knew this, and the risk he was taking had started to chip away at him. Finula would catch him often in his deep, dark moments, his expression unreadable. Every time he’d brush away her concern, knowing full well she hadn’t been convinced of his wellbeing. At night she’d hold him close, soothing whatever it was he wouldn’t disclose. Deep down Finula thought it was just a matter of time. She knew there was a special bond between them – it was tangible – and she also knew to trust her instincts. Marcus had come to mean so much to her and this dark, brooding side to him only increased his attraction, being the curious person she was. Subconsciously, the fact that her dad had also taken to Marcus had strengthened Finula’s feelings for him.
In turn, Marcus had fallen deeply for Finula. She epitomised everything he craved: love, warmth and comfort. Dermot, too, had taken on a role as a father figure, with his steady presence and guidance. It amazed Marcus how, within such a short period of time, they had grown to mean so much to him, almost like a surrogate family. He couldn’t help but wonder if all this had been preordained in some way: that he was always meant to come to Treweham.
‘OK, I’ll come then,’ agreed Marcus with a sigh, knowing when he was defeated. ‘But let’s go to my place on Boxing Day and spend some time alone?’
Finula thought about it for a moment, then agreed.
‘Yes. Dad’ll be busy, so he won’t have time to miss me.’
Marcus was reminded of Finula’s loyalty once more and that feeling of foreboding returned.
*
The Dowager Lady Cavendish-Blake was in full force, ordering the staff around, overseeing arrangements and fussing like a mother hen. As always, Celia was on hand, smothering her excitement.
‘Calm down, Beatrice. It’ll all go to plan, it does every year,’ she told her sharply.
‘Yes, due to my management,’ Beatrice batted back. Then she turned to Sebastian, who was strolling down the stairway. ‘Darling, the guests will be arriving soon. Aren’t you going to dress?’
‘I am dressed, Mother.’ He looked down to his faded jeans and long, white T-shirt.
‘Hardly for the occasion, Sebastian,’ cut in Celia with a raised eyebrow.
Sebastian rolled his eyes and made his way back up the stairs.
‘Do you think that TV friend of his is a bad influence?’ whispered Beatrice.
This time Celia rolled her eyes. ‘No, Beatrice, I don’t.’
‘I do wish he’d find the right girl and settle down,’ Beatrice shook her head.
‘Then you’ll be wishing a long time, dear,’ muttered Celia under her breath.
*
Tobias and Megan were in their rooms, getting ready to join the rest of the family. Tobias looked devilishly handsome in his dinner suit. He sat in the drawing room waiting for Megan, sipping a brandy. This time next year he’d be a father. He looked at the Christmas tree Megan had decorated that day, sparkling in the corner with presents scattered underneath it. Next Christmas would include presents for their child, his heir. What a difference a year makes, he acknowledged. He hadn’t even known Megan that long. They had met in early spring and their whirlwind romance had spun them both off their feet; and now this spring would see their first child born.
‘Ready to go?’ Megan entered the room, looking elegant in a black evening gown. It discreetly hid her ever-growing bump. She was wearing the diamonds Tobias had given her on their wedding day.
‘You look beautiful.’ He kissed her lips gently. ‘We won’t stay too long; I don’t want you getting tired.’
Megan laughed. ‘Tobias, stop fussing. I’m absolutely fine. I’m looking forward to seeing Finula. I’ve not seen her for ages.’
‘Too busy with that TV producer,’ he replied tartly. ‘I take it he’s coming tonight?’
‘Yes, of course, as Finula’s partner.’
‘Hmm.’
‘I don’t know why you disapprove of him,’ said Megan, half smiling. ‘In some ways he reminds me of you.’
Tobias’ head shot up sharply. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘I’m not,’ she teased, finding his reaction amusing. ‘He comes across as being quite a proud person, confident, knows what he wants. You’re both tall, dark and handsome, too,’ she added with a grin.
Tobias’ eyes narrowed. ‘Is that so?’ he answered, knowing she was playing with him. He softly pulled her closer and stroked her swollen belly. Did he feel a kick? It was an amazing sensation. His hands travelled upwards to her solid breasts and caressed the fullness of them, then slid up her long, graceful neck to rest under her chin. He tilted her face to his and kissed her slowly, his tongue running along her lips and slipping inside her mouth. She tasted so good. He could feel the beginnings of an erection and wished more than anything they could just get in between the sheets of their four-poster bed.
‘Tobias! Are you there, darling?’ Beatrice’s voice boomed down the corridor. Megan giggled as Tobias backed off with a disgruntled moan.
‘Coming, Beatrice!’ she called back.
*
Jamie was on cloud nine. Staying at Treweham Hall had been a mind-blowing experience. He had never felt intimidated and Sebastian had gone to great lengths to ensure he was comfortable. He was sleeping in the next bedroom to him. That alone had kept Jamie up at night, just knowing that behind the adjoining wall slept Sebastian. The Cavendish-Blakes were a real mixture of characters, from the somewhat ditsy mother, crusty old aunt, gorgeous brother and affable sister-in-law. They’d all welcomed him, although the knowing looks Aunt Celia kept giving him had proved a touch off-putting. No wonder Sebastian was terrified of her. He was relieved to learn that Marcus would be there that evening. At least it would be another familiar face.
The evening proved to be a success. All the guests were greeted with glasses of champagne in the hall, where the colossal Christmas tree glimmered and holly decorated the sweeping staircase. Beatrice was on fine form, ever the social butterfly, whilst Celia stood back and watched from afar with a frown, accepting a drink every now and then from the passing silver trays.
On seeing Finula and Marcus enter through the hall, Megan rushed over to speak to them.
‘Glad you could make it.’ She hugged Finula, then looked towards Marcus with a beaming smile. ‘And you too, Marcus.’
Marcus smiled politely. ‘Thanks for the invite.’ His eyes scanned the place, taking in the marble floor, stone pillars, high coved ceiling, stained-glass windows, chandelier, grand staircase, the tapestries and, of course, the huge, ostentatious Christmas tree. Such opulence, it turned his stomach.
Sipping his champagne, he homed in on Tobias, chatting comfortably with his guests, looking every inch the Lord of the Manor in his pristine dinner suit. For a split second Tobias caught his eye. The two men exchanged cool looks – no smiles. Marcus suspected that Tobias wanted him there about as much as he wanted to be there. Then Marcus’ eyes turned to Sebastian, his other half-brother. This time he smiled when Sebastian waved and together with Jamie they made their way over to him.
‘Glad to see a familiar face,’ said Jamie, looking a tad relieved.
Marcus laughed. ‘I could say the same.’ Then, turning to Sebas
tian, he shook his hand. ‘Good to see you again, Sebastian,’ and he actually meant it. From what he had experienced he concluded that Sebastian was the opposite of Tobias, not just in looks, but in personality too. Sebastian seemed warmer, more approachable, compared to Tobias’ cold, standoffish demeanour. Marcus would like Sebastian for a brother, not so Tobias. He glanced at Tobias again, looking suave and sophisticated, milling in the crowd. Not that Marcus didn’t hold his own in his dark dinner jacket. In fact, he’d go so far as to say the resemblance between the two of them – dressed so similarly, with the same black hair and green eyes – might have been pretty obvious, if people knew what he did. He’d thought about trying to get back into his father’s study. Marcus longed to get hold of his diaries and explore more about him.
‘Good evening, Marcus.’ Tobias cut into his thoughts, startling him a little.
‘Good evening, Tobias,’ he replied in the same tone.
‘So, you’re still in Treweham?’ Tobias looked almost accusingly at him.
Without missing a beat Marcus replied, ‘Yes. Proving hard to shake off, aren’t I?’ He smiled tightly.
That earned him a hard stare, before Tobias turned his attention to Finula and Megan.
I’ll teach you to dismiss me, raged Marcus with a burning hatred.
48
Christmas morning arrived with a flurry of snowflakes, gently dusting the rooftops and hedgerows of Treweham village. The dining table at Treweham Hall boasted the finest silver, cut glass and porcelain, all laid out with precision. It was a particular favourite task overseen by Henry, the butler, who saw it as an opportunity to showcase the utmost care and attention to detail he was renowned for. There were ten places set, as Megan’s granddad, mum, dad and brother were coming for Christmas dinner. Henry gave the table one last inspection, before refilling the decanters on the sideboard.
