The Pleasures of Spring

by Evie Hunter

  Her eyes were perfectly welcoming as she smiled at Roz, but she fancied she heard a hint of censure in those precisely modulated words.

  Now it was Andy’s turn to blush. He grinned his familiar grin, the one that looked like a pirate about to take a lady prisoner and kiss her senseless, but there was a definite darkening on his high cheekbones. He put his arm around Roz, holding her possessively to his side. It looked like a lover’s embrace, but Roz could feel the grip preventing her from running away.

  ‘Mum, may I introduce Roz O’Sullivan? Roz, this is my mother, Mrs Dougal Campbell McTavish.’

  The older woman frowned at him. ‘Why so formal?’ She turned to Roz. ‘Call me Poppy, dear. Everyone does.’

  She advanced on Roz. The woman was tiny, she barely reached Roz’s chin, but she pulled her into a decorous embrace. ‘So glad to meet you.’

  She smelled of lavender and turpentine and her hands were cold.

  In spite of the cool, slender fingers, her hug was warm, and Roz felt unexpectedly bereft. She had never had motherly hugs, and she hadn’t realized how much she had wanted them.

  Get over it, she told herself. This is part of a scam.

  Poppy stood back and surveyed Roz carefully. ‘Roz O’Sullivan? I don’t believe I’ve heard of you before this week, dear.’

  That was a fishing hook if she had ever heard one. Roz stood up straighter, pulling back her shoulders. She wasn’t going to grovel in any way. ‘That’s Roisin Philomena O’Sullivan-Spring. Andy never gives my full name.’

  Andy’s exclamation derailed his mother’s gentle cross-examination. ‘Philomena? You never told me you were called Philomena. I’m sorry, that’s it. It’s all off. I can’t date someone called Philomena.’

  But Poppy’s brow had scrunched thoughtfully. ‘Philomena O’Sullivan sounds familiar.’

  ‘I was named after my grandmother,’ Roz admitted. Her dad had told her the story of how she had been named after her mother’s mother, and Sinead had been named for Jane Spring. He had cursed that decision every time he mentioned her O’Sullivan grandmother while she was growing up. She had been the demon from hell, according to his stories. She had cut her daughter off without a second thought when she had refused to break up with Roz’s father.

  Peter Spring wasn’t the best father in the world. Okay, he was a long way from being the best. But he had tried, and in his own way, he had loved her. Philomena O’Sullivan hadn’t loved anyone, certainly not her daughter.

  Thoughts of her dysfunctional family helped to steady Roz. She wasn’t a part of this world. She was hiding out here until Hall was off her back, and it didn’t matter if they liked her or approved of her.

  ‘Oh, that’s right. Andy told me you’re one of those O’Sullivans. Welcome to Lough Darra,’ Poppy said. She tucked Roz’s hand into her arm as she turned towards the house. Andy took his mother’s other arm and shortened his long strides to accommodate her as they tramped along the driveway. ‘So tell me, how did you meet my son?’

  Roz stumbled slightly, but recovered her step. ‘I’m sure you’d rather hear it from Andy.’ Let him take the heat for a change.

  Lying to his mother clearly didn’t bother Andy at all. ‘We met in Paris last year and I’ve been chasing her ever since. She moved back to London a few months ago, and I haven’t let her out of my sight,’ he said smoothly.

  ‘So you’re good friends?’ Poppy asked.

  ‘A bit more than that.’ Andy stopped, picked up Roz’s hand and kissed it. His mouth was warm against her frozen skin. ‘I never want to let her go. Mum, meet my fiancée.’

  ‘Your what?’ Poppy squealed and threw her arms around Roz. ‘My dear. You should have told me at once. I know I’m going to love you.’

  This time her hug wasn’t elegant, but it was enthusiastic. ‘I’m going to have a daughter-in-law. I can’t wait.’

  He wasn’t supposed to feel guilty. This was a job, wasn’t it? It was for Roz’s protection. His mother had seen girls come and go before now, it shouldn’t have been a big deal. But the expression of joy on her face was worse than a kick in the nuts. He must have been crazy. How could he have thought that this was a good idea?

  And Roz was like a rabbit caught in the headlights. She shot him a look filled with venom. It was time to rescue her. He caught up with them. ‘It’s kind of new to us too, so maybe we should keep it quiet for a while?’

  ‘Nonsense! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? Oh wait ’til I tell Hilary Adams.’

  Fuck. His mother’s best friend was the biggest gossip in the county. The news would be all over the neighbourhood by dinner time. Andy forced a smile onto his face. ‘Great.’

  He grabbed the shopping bags from the car and followed them into the house. They had barely made it to the hall before two noisy bundles of energy came racing at them. Mini and Maxi, his mother’s cocker spaniels.

  ‘Down.’ He injected as much sternness into his voice as he could muster but the dogs ignored him, leaping and jumping at Roz who stood frozen to the spot. She stretched out a tentative hand to pat one of them.

  ‘Ladies, please behave.’ His mother clapped her hands and the dogs sat obediently, waiting for her next command. ‘I’m so sorry. Andy, take Roz into the library and I’ll organize some refreshments.’

  He dropped the bags near the stairs and ushered Roz to the book-filled room. It was his mother’s favourite spot, mostly because it was the warmest place in the house.

  Roz whistled. ‘Holy freaking hell, this room is bigger than my flat in London. You actually live here?’

  Andy ached to take her in his arms again. That kiss had been far too short. He led her to the couch in front of the fire. The leather was worn and cracked in places, a testament to generations of McTavishes who had curled up with a book over the years. He sat down and pulled her onto his lap. ‘I’ll give you the tour later, but first can I tell you how much I love this dress?’

  His fingers found the hem and slid underneath. If there was ever an invention designed to torture a man it was stockings and suspender belts and she was wearing both.

  ‘Stop that.’ Roz slapped his hand away. ‘Your mother will be back in a minute. And if you think that I’m going to –’

  The door opened and Andy heard the clink of glasses. Damn his mother’s timing. Maggie followed behind, balancing a tray containing an ice bucket and champagne. He hurried to help her and set the tray down on the table. The champagne was opened with a satisfying pop and his mother poured four glasses. ‘Maggie, did you ever think you’d see the day?’

  Her joy was so evident that Andy felt a pang of guilt. He had no idea how long they would be here or what his mother would do when his ‘engagement’ suddenly ended.

  Poppy raised her glass. ‘A toast – to the next generation at Lough Darra.’

  ‘The next generation.’ Maggie’s words echoed his mother’s as they clinked their glasses together.

  For once, Roz was stunned into silence and Andy wanted to kick himself for being an idiot. Why hadn’t he noticed how pale she was? She’d been attacked, shot at and engaged within the space of half a day. Her head must be spinning.

  Poppy sipped her champagne and then said, ‘Let’s sit down by the fire, my dear, and you can tell me all about yourself.’

  She gave Andy an arch look. ‘Men are so reticent when it comes to the important things.’

  They returned to the sofa and Andy pulled Roz down beside him, resting his arm along the back of the couch. Roz relaxed into his embrace and rested her hand on his thigh as if it was something they did every night.

  ‘So tell me, dear, how did you meet my no-good son?’ Poppy asked. ‘Was it romantic?’

  Roz smiled and Andy braced himself. The little madam was up to something. ‘We met in Paris last year, at the Eiffel Tower. Andy bought me a ticket to go up to the top.’

  Poppy sighed happily. ‘How romantic.’

  Roz’s smile turned evil. ‘Unfortunately, the ticket was for
the stairs, not the lift. I had to climb the entire two thousand-odd steps to the top. He seemed to think I needed the exercise.’

  Andy narrowed his eyes at her, silently promising retribution.

  ‘Oh, what a rascal. You have a perfect figure, how could he say that?’ Poppy looked genuinely distressed.

  ‘And when we met again in London this year, he complained that I had put on weight.’

  Oh yeah, Roz was trying to drop him into it. ‘You have to admit that you had a cute little belly,’ he said. ‘It suited you.’

  Roz choked on a sip of champagne. ‘It did not.’

  ‘Sure it did. I’d like to see you like that again.’

  ‘You are so full of it.’

  He was teasing her, but for some reason, the idea of her round and pregnant had a certain appeal. ‘Try me and see.’

  She had sense enough not to reply to that one.

  ‘More champagne, darling?’ His mother’s question broke the tension.

  Poppy poured some more champagne and insisted on toasting them again. ‘You have no idea how wonderful it is to have you here. Dougal will be thrilled to meet you.’

  That would be a first. Andy had never seen his dour father thrilled about anything that didn’t involve horses.

  ‘He’ll be down for dinner. Andy probably told you that he’s been ill.’

  ‘Yes,’ Roz murmured and took another sip from her glass.

  Andy could tell that she was flagging. ‘Roz is dying to meet him. Aren’t you, darling? But she’s been up since 4am and –’

  ‘How dreadful. You must be dead on your feet. Why don’t you unpack and have a nap before dinner?’

  Relieved, Andy stood up and took Roz’s glass from her hand. She really was shattered. A nap would do them both good. ‘Great. We’ll go upstairs and get settled in.’

  ‘I’ll see you both later. Maggie has made up the blue room for Roz.’

  His mother had put them in separate rooms? She couldn’t be serious.

  Andy was about to protest when his mother smiled sweetly. ‘The blue room is traditionally used by the lady of the house.’

  Yes – if she was ninety or widowed or her husband snored like a freight train. Andy didn’t want Roz sleeping somewhere that was almost a five minute walk away. ‘I’m sure Roz doesn’t want to put you to so much trouble.’

  ‘Nonsense. It’s no trouble at all.’

  Andy picked up the shopping bags and led Roz up the staircase.

  ‘Your mum is a classy lady.’

  ‘Yes. She’s something,’ Andy muttered under his breath. On the landing he paused. ‘Would you like to see my room first?’

  ‘No thanks. I’m good. Lead the way to the blue room.’

  They walked the endless corridor and he opened the door at the end. ‘The blue room, M’lady. Will you be needing anything else? Undressing perhaps? Or a turn down service?’

  Roz paused in the doorway. ‘Well, there is one thing.’

  Thank you, god. Andy took two steps into the room.

  ‘I need to use your phone to check on Frankie.’

  He fished in his pocket and handed her his new BlackBerry.

  She punched in the number quickly and walked away from him. ‘Frankie, it’s me. How are you? Yes. Yes. Okay. I will.’

  Roz disconnected the call with a frown. ‘He says he’s fine but he sounds a bit off.’

  ‘He’s probably stressed after his encounter with Hall.’

  Roz nodded. ‘I know. It’s just that …’

  She swayed and Andy rushed forwards. He was a thoughtless bastard. She might be tough, but she wasn’t trained. Even experienced operatives weren’t used to getting shot at every day. ‘Get undressed and go to sleep.’

  She bent down to take off her boots and gasped. ‘My ribs!’

  ‘Here, let me help you.’ Damn! He should have realized she’d been coasting on adrenaline up to now. He hadn’t intended to undress her, but it was obvious she wouldn’t be able to manage on her own. Gritting his teeth, he eased the dress up over her head, taking care to be as gentle as possible.

  The sight of the emerging bruise on her chest shocked him, and reminded him how close she had come to dying. ‘You need a doctor.’

  ‘No.’

  Roz should have looked enticing, standing there in underwear, a lacy confection of a bra and cream suspenders holding up her stockings. But he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the massive purple bruise that spread over her ribs. If someone had hit her with a hammer, it would have done less damage.

  He was scared to touch her.

  ‘No doctors,’ she insisted.

  He unfastened her bra, and eased her into the bed.

  Her eyelids fluttered closed and then opened again. ‘I’m usually tougher than this.’

  ‘Yeah, being shot at close range, escaping a psychopath and having champagne on an empty stomach is child’s play. You’re falling down on the job, Spring.’ In spite of his attempt at humour, his voice was rough.

  She opened one eye and glared at him. ‘Well, fuck you too, McTavish.’ Then she snuggled into the bed and allowed her eyes to close again.

  Andy hesitated. She looked so pale and vulnerable lying there and it was his fault. He was supposed to be looking after her. Instead, he had allowed her to come within inches of dying. Losing a client would be bad enough but losing Roz? He didn’t want to think about that. He wanted to kill something – preferably Hall.

  Roz gave a soft snuffle. She was already asleep. Exhaustion was beginning to catch up on him too and the aches and pains of his recent fight were kicking in. He needed a shower and some sleep. In that order.

  He had never really thought about settling down and, somehow, this wasn’t how he expected to be celebrating his engagement. Andy eyed the space beside her wistfully. The far end of the corridor was a long way away. He could always climb into bed with her. Make sure that she was okay.

  You’re a bad bastard, McTavish.

  He and Roz in the same bed could have only one conclusion. Her naked and gasping his name, while he made up for the night they had spent apart after their encounter in Charleville Castle.

  Despite his exhaustion, his cock stirred and he sighed. The only way either of them would get any sleep would be in separate rooms.

  16

  The ringing of a bell woke Roz. She jerked awake, alert in spite of her exhaustion, primed for danger, then winced as the movement reawakened the pain from her bruises. She heard the bell peal again somewhere in the bowels of the house.

  House nothing. This was a freaking castle. The view of it from the driveway had been terrifying enough. Nothing could have prepared her for the inside, all marble and mahogany and leaded glass. That library had more books in it than most of the public libraries she had been in, and half of them looked like valuable antiques.

  She flopped back on her bed and stared at the ceiling above her. Typical. Even the ceiling wasn’t ordinary. It was covered with tiny cherubs, picked out in blue and gold.

  How rich was Andy? And if he was this rich, why was he slumming it, working as a glorified bodyguard for Niall Moore?

  Roz was painfully aware of the gaps in her education. The flat she shared with her dad had been raided the night before her exams. She’d barely had two hours’ sleep before school. She had nothing – not even a GCSE – to her name. But while she had no fancy degrees, one thing she could do was hack computers. Roz had checked out Niall Moore in detail.

  She knew Moore Enterprises was considered the best operation of its type in Europe, and that Niall had a good income and a very comfortable lifestyle. But it was nothing compared to this. Andy sure as hell wasn’t paying for this house out of his salary from Moore Enterprises.

  What else hadn’t he told her? she wondered, getting up and finding an old-fashioned bathroom through the side door of the room.

  Andy hadn’t been wrong about the plumbing. The water pipes gurgled and the over-bath shower was noisy. The stream of water that even
tually came never got really hot, but it was a distinct improvement on the make-shift showers on the film set. Roz stood still, allowing the warm water to soothe her aches.

  She had no idea what she should wear to dinner but was pretty sure that jeans wouldn’t be acceptable. Roz sorted through her new clothes and picked out a demure black dress. She wanted to tease Andy with another pair of stockings, but her injured ribs wouldn’t let her bend enough to put them on. Bare legs it would have to be.

  She had finished dressing when he knocked on the door. ‘I’ve come to escort you to dinner –’ he started, and stopped, stuck. He looked her up and down, and whistled. ‘Wow, you clean up well.’

  ‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ she said.

  She wasn’t going to admit how the sight of him in a dinner jacket caused her breath to catch and a ball of heat to curl low in her belly. Andy was sexy in jeans, but in formal clothes, he was devastating.

  He held out his arm to her. ‘Come and eat. I’ll show you around, otherwise you’ll get lost in this rabbit warren of a house.’

  ‘I’ll leave a trail of breadcrumbs so that I can find my way back,’ she told him.

  ‘Are you Hansel or Gretel?’ he asked, leading her down the wide staircase.

  ‘More like the wicked witch.’ She wasn’t some helpless child whose father had allowed her to be abandoned in the woods.

  ‘The witch came to a bad end,’ Andy pointed out.

  ‘She was stupid and short-sighted. I’m not.’

  ‘We’re eating in the breakfast room,’ Andy said, guiding her through the door.

  Roz was stuck dumb. The round table might be a reasonable size for four people, but it was antique mahogany covered with Irish linen. A chandelier dripped from the ceiling, with dozens of small bulbs lighting the room and glinting off the crystal droplets. The table was set with far too many knives and forks, real linen and crystal glasses.

  ‘Mum is determined to impress you,’ Andy murmured into her ear. ‘I’d be lucky to get a seat at the kitchen table.’