The Pleasures of Spring

by Evie Hunter

  Roz would have much preferred to eat in the kitchen. She wondered if she would be relegated to the scullery if she screwed up.

  ‘Well, bring her in so I can see her,’ an irascible voice said from the corner. She had managed to miss the elderly man sitting in an armchair, reading a newspaper.

  ‘Don’t worry, he’ll love you,’ Andy said.

  Dougal Campbell McTavish did not love her.

  Andy seated her at the table, with her back to the fireplace where whole logs blazed and crackled.

  Once Andy had helped his father to his seat at the end of the table, the inquisition began.

  ‘So you’re from London?’ His tone made it clear that this was a mark against her.

  Poppy helped Roz to a ladle of soup from the tureen in the centre of the table. To her relief, there was no army of servants standing over them. Maggie had brought in the soup and both Andy and Poppy had jumped up to help her.

  ‘Yes,’ Roz responded with a smile. ‘But I was born in Ireland.’

  ‘And your family?’

  Oh yeah, this is what it was all about. Was she a suitable brood mare to carry on the bloodline? She was tempted to tell the truth, to see the look on Dougal’s face, but she needed to stay here, and fit in.

  You’re a rich girl, you’re a rich girl. Time to get into character.

  ‘My dad has his own IT business. My mother died when I was four.’

  Poppy was all sympathy. ‘Oh dear, your poor father. How on earth did he cope?’

  While Maggie brought in roast venison, carrots, cabbage and new potatoes, she elaborated her story. ‘He didn’t. My dad was broken hearted. Of course, the O’Sullivans tried to help as much as they could. They took my sister Sinead to live with them.’

  She glanced at Poppy to watch which knife and fork she picked from the three at each place setting. ‘I stayed with my dad. I couldn’t bear to leave him.’

  Beside her, Andy choked. He moved his hand under the tablecloth to grip her leg in warning. She thumped him hard on the back and the grip became a caress, sliding up her thigh, teasing as it went.

  The trick, she knew, was not to tell an outright lie. Tell the truth in such a way that your mark believed the lie.

  Dougal chewed a piece of meat before he asked, ‘O’Sullivans? Do you mean those airline people?’

  Roz nodded, taking a bite of her meal. It tasted unlike anything she had ever eaten before; simple but full of flavour. ‘Yes, my uncle is Tim O’Sullivan.’ And there was something she never thought she’d admit.

  Andy’s right hand was holding his wine glass. His left hand was making tiny circles on the soft skin of her thigh, distracting her from the questions.

  ‘New money.’ His father grunted as he cut into his meat. ‘And too flashy. But he does have an eye for horses.’

  ‘So I’m told,’ she said, trying to ignore the hand now tracing the dampness of her panties. She clamped her thighs shut and glared at Andy, while a small part of her wanted to open her legs and let him do whatever he wanted. He was much too good at this.

  ‘Have some more venison,’ Poppy interrupted. ‘Everything on the table is from our own farm. Except the wine, of course. We never managed to make good wine.’

  ‘Everything?’ Roz surveyed the table in awe. In her world, food came from Tesco. She could understand people growing vegetables. She had once managed to grow lettuce and radishes in a window box, but the rest? She was pretty sure venison came from deer. And the bread and butter? Her mind reeled.

  ‘Are you involved with horses yourself?’ Dougal asked.

  All she really knew about horses was that one end bit and the other end shit. And that Nagsy liked carrots. She shrugged modestly. ‘A little.’

  ‘Well, you can take out a horse while you are here. Andy will find you something suitable to ride. Perhaps Flamingo or Kestrel.’

  ‘Are they horses or birds?’

  He glared at her. ‘Very funny. I see you’ve inherited Tim O’Sullivan’s sense of humour.’

  Poppy intervened. ‘And do you see much of your Uncle Tim?’

  Andy’s hand had not stopped his tormenting tease, his index finger flicked lightly against her clit, provoking an insistent throb.

  ‘Not much, I’ve been working in Europe.’ Roz put her cutlery down with some relief and nipped Andy in the side. This meal was hard enough without him distracting her. She slipped her foot out of her shoe and slid it up his calf.

  To her relief and a little regret, he left off his sensual torture while he took a mouthful of wine. Poppy collected the plates and Roz, horribly conscious that her dress was bunched up at the top of her thighs, had to sit still without helping. Any movement would reveal the state Andy had left her in.

  Dessert was poached pears and crème fraîche, also from the farm, which she had to eat using another knife and fork.

  Dougal returned to the attack. ‘Andrew went to Queens. Which college did you go to?’

  Roz’s fingers tightened around her knife. For a moment, she considered plunging it into the suspicious old man’s gut. Or at least his dinner. Scare him into another heart attack. It was clear he didn’t consider her nearly good enough for his precious son.

  Andy must have noticed the danger signal and put his arm around her in what looked like a loving gesture to anyone who couldn’t see how tight it was.

  She pinched him hard and he laughed.

  She couldn’t admit she hadn’t even done her A-levels, never mind gone to college. What colleges were in London? Her mind blanked. She remembered the local Polytechnic and she was pretty sure that wouldn’t do. ‘Oh,’ she said casually, ‘I went to the Sorbonne and Oxford.’

  She had been inside the Sorbonne once, posing as a research assistant when she was there to meet a submissive client. When he had failed to show she had almost been arrested. That had been a lesson in getting paid upfront. And she had a vague memory of a windy weekend in Oxford while Dad visited a new girlfriend.

  At least Dougal looked impressed, and returned his attention to his place. Andy took the opportunity to caress her in that delicate spot between her shoulder blades, the one that always turned her to mush.

  She stopped eating, having lost her appetite – for food. ‘Do you mind if I skip coffee? It’s been a long day and I’m shattered.’

  Poppy fussed anxiously, exclaiming at how pale Roz looked. Dougal raised his eyes from his dish, grunted something that sounded like ‘No stamina’, and waved her off.

  ‘I’ll escort her to her room,’ Andy said, but the wicked glint in his eyes promised that he didn’t intend to leave her there on her own.

  ‘I’ll pour your coffee, so don’t be long.’ Poppy wasn’t exactly subtle – she expected him back.

  His hand at her back was warm and reassuring as he guided Roz out of the dining room.

  ‘He’ll love you,’ she mimicked when they were out of earshot. ‘Yeah right!’

  Andy winced. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t expecting him to give you the third degree. He’s usually pretty nice to the girls I bring home.’

  That stung. ‘Sure, girls who are from the same background.’ It was painfully obvious to her that she was not.

  ‘Don’t worry, he’ll come around. In a few days, he’ll love you.’ They had reached her door by now. He turned her around, tipped her face up and kissed her.

  The kiss was light, delicate, almost sweet. There was no body contact at all. But it inflamed something inside her.

  Here, in this monster of a house, this was something she knew. Something real and honest and familiar. And, oh, so tempting.

  She leaned into him, her breasts aching for the feel of his hard body.

  Andy groaned, holding her back. ‘Don’t, please. I have to go downstairs to my mother, and preferably without a hard-on. And you’re still bruised.’

  With a grin, she pulled his head down to hers again. She didn’t attempt to touch him anywhere else, but she opened her mouth, inviting his tongue to tangle with her, and kiss
ing him back with all the seductiveness she could muster.

  His arms trembled as he kept a distance between them, but he didn’t pull back. His kiss got hotter, and she allowed herself the luxury of enjoying it. She could kiss him forever, without wanting more.

  Time lost all meaning, and she was shocked when he pulled himself out of her grip. ‘So much for that plan,’ he groaned. She looked down and giggled when she noticed the bulge tenting the front of his trousers.

  ‘Witch! I’ll get you back for that.’

  ‘Oh yeah? Do your worst.’ Roz was almost hoping that he would.

  ‘Oh I plan to.’ He gave her a warning look before planting a swift kiss on her mouth, then pushed her into her bedroom and headed down the stairs.

  She watched him until he was out of sight, then closed the door and sighed. Her nipples were hard achy points and she pressed her thighs together to contain the throb his kiss had caused. Andy wasn’t the only one who would need a cold shower.

  Damn it, how was he going to face his parents with a hard-on the size of the Dublin Spire? The inquisition Roz received earlier was nothing compared to what was waiting for him. The next lady of Lough Darra was a thief, a liar and god knows what else. And there was no way that he was able to stare his mother in the eye and lie to her again. Fuck.

  He pulled out his phone. There was only one thing for it. ‘Reilly?’

  ‘Identify yourself, and bear in mind that I may kill you,’ she whispered.

  Shit. Andy winced when he heard what sounded like restaurant noise in the background. Was Reilly on a date? ‘I need a call in ten minutes.’

  Reilly excused herself from the table and a couple of moments later the background noise faded. He had to admire her. The eloquence with which she rapped out two dozen expletives would have made half a dozen squaddies run home to their mammies. ‘You owe me your first born child,’ Reilly snarled.

  ‘Grand, you can be godmother.’

  ‘If this is not official, it better be good.’

  ‘It’s personal.’

  ‘Oh?’ There was almost a twenty second silence before she laughed. ‘Flynn Grant owes me a ton. I told him you’d need someone to protect your sorry ass. I can’t believe I got one over on him.’

  ‘Reilly, I want a phone call, not one of your kidneys. Play nice.’

  ‘As if.’ She disconnected the call and Andy smiled.

  The Rangers were brothers and sisters in arms. If one needed, the other gave. That never changed. And at least his dick had stopped throbbing. He strolled downstairs to face his parents.

  His mother stood poised, silver coffee pot in hand. ‘We were chatting about Roz. She’s such a lovely girl.’

  ‘Feisty,’ his father announced.

  ‘Aye, she is that,’ Andy said as he accepted a cup of coffee from his mother and stirred the dark liquid with a silver spoon.

  ‘Do you love her, Andrew?’

  Poppy’s expression was pensive and it gave Andy pause for thought. He didn’t know Roz. Oh yes, on paper, he knew everything about her. But not the real Roz.

  No matter how he felt, he couldn’t lie to his mother. The phone in his pocket vibrated. He would kiss Reilly the next time they met.

  ‘It’s work.’ He shrugged apologetically. ‘Sorry, I have to take this. We can talk later.’

  He left the room quickly and bounded up the stairs, phone pressed to his ear. ‘You are a darling. I may let you shag me next time we meet.’

  ‘Thanks, but I’ll pass. You’re not my type.’ Niall Moore’s voice rumbled down the line.

  Fuck. Andy grimaced. ‘Sorry, boss. I thought you were Reilly.’

  ‘Keep digging that hole and I’ll bury you in it. Do you ever stop thinking about sex? On second thoughts, don’t answer that.’

  Something had to be wrong if Niall was contacting him at this hour. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Do you want the bad news or the bad news? Hall smashed through a police checkpoint a couple of hours ago.’

  ‘Fuck.’ Hall was a slippery bastard and too damn good.

  ‘The guys at Interpol are freaked too. I’ve told them we’ve found the girl. They want her in witness protection until we can bring Hall in.’

  His heart dropped like a skydiver in freefall. They wanted Roz? If she went into protective custody, god knows when he would see her again. Months? Years? And he couldn’t contact her without breaking her cover.

  Roz would be gone for good.

  ‘When can you bring her to Paris?’

  Andy played for time. ‘We left Tullamore in a hurry. She’ll need some new ID to travel. And she’s pretty bruised and shocked after yesterday. Hall shot her at close range. If it wasn’t for her phone she …’

  He left the rest of the words unsaid. They had both faced danger, but they were professionals, Roz was a civilian.

  ‘Understood. Do you need back up?’

  ‘No. It would draw attention to her if another operative turned up.’

  ‘I could send in Reilly.’ Niall didn’t even try to keep the amusement out of his voice.

  Andy could imagine his mother’s face if the tough-as-nails former Ranger turned up. If Roz was rough around the edges, Reilly needed to be sandpapered before she could be allowed indoors.

  ‘Thanks, boss, but I have enough trouble already.’

  ‘Is Roz being a handful?’

  ‘You could say that. She survived an interrogation by Dougal and she barely blinked.’

  ‘Interpol will have fun with that. Okay. Can you hold onto her for a week or so? I’ll get things organized.’

  ‘No problem.’ Andy ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed. How the hell was he going to tell Roz she was going into protective custody?

  He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair before loosening his tie. He could always return to Roz, but then he would have to tell her and he didn’t want to do that. Not yet.

  Coward.

  It was one thing that he wasn’t. Reluctantly, he opened the door and walked to her room. He tapped lightly on the door but there was no reply. He opened the door and peeked inside.

  A bedside lamp cast dark shadows in the room. Roz was lying in the middle of the bed wearing a rose silk chemise. God, she was beautiful. Her pale skin was like cream. A cloud of red hair drifted across the pillow. The only thing wrong with the picture was that she was asleep. It was just as he had imagined her a thousand times. Except that she should be in his bed, not sleeping in a guest room.

  She moaned softly in her sleep and shivered. The urge to warm her, to climb into bed beside her and spend the night doing nothing but holding her, was overwhelming. He was getting soft. This was just another job. There was no way that he could get involved. Andy pulled the duvet over her and switched off the lamp.

  He had almost made it to the door when he heard her moan again.

  ‘Hall, no. No.’ Roz moved restlessly in the bed.

  She needed him. Separate rooms be damned. He couldn’t leave her like this. He undressed quickly and slid into bed beside her.

  ‘Hush now,’ he murmured softly as she turned into his arms. Her distinctive perfume rose from her sleep-warm skin. He couldn’t help reacting to her slenderness and the fragility of her bones. When she was awake, her forceful personality blinded everyone to the fact that she was a small woman, one with no military training. She needed to be protected.

  Andy pulled her closer. He couldn’t remember when he had last cuddled a woman unless it was part of a strategy to seduce. A flicker of shame made him wince. The game was fun at the time, but empty afterwards.

  Her hand trailed across his abdomen and came to rest on his chest. The restless touch woke his cock. Oh fuck. How was he going to lie beside her like this? He shifted slightly, trying to put a little distance between them, but Roz moved with him, still clinging. Now her thigh was in contact with his balls. Down, boy.

  Staying perfectly still, he began to count backwards from one hundred. Sheep, goats
, horses, he didn’t care; anything to distract him from the images filling his head. A naked, wanton Roz on top, riding him like a stallion. Her head thrown back, her glorious hair messy, her mouth wet from his kisses and her eyes heavy-lidded with passion.

  Nope. That wasn’t going to work either. This was pure torture. His arousal was becoming painful. There was no way that he could stay here, he would have to leave.

  With a soft murmur, she raised her head from his chest to stare at him. A chink of moonlight from the half-drawn curtains gave him enough light to see her face. Her eyes were dark, her expression knowing.

  Siren.

  Roz brushed her mouth against his in silent invitation and lay back against the pillows. He rose to his knees and ran his palm along the length of the chemise. God, she was beautiful but he wanted her naked.

  He put his fingers to his lips, signalling her to be quiet before urging her up and lifting the lace-edged hem over her head, tossing it onto the floor.

  The bruises on her ribs were a shocking reminder of what she had gone through. No wonder she was having nightmares. He was determined to make her forget them.

  ‘We’re going to play a little game. I’ll give you pleasure but you have to stay absolutely silent.’

  Roz opened her mouth and snapped it closed again before nodding. Tempted by her breasts, he fastened his mouth around one nipple and suckled hard. She fingered his hair, urging him on. He turned his attention to her other breast, sucking, tasting, licking at the tender peak until it was as hard as the first.

  He sat back on his heels, surveying the feast before him, from her toes to her face. He wanted to taste all of her. Cupping her foot in his hand, he raised it and dropped a kiss on the inside of her ankle. He nibbled his way along her calf and licked at the tender spot behind her knee.

  She writhed but didn’t protest when he kissed a path along her inner thigh. Her panting gasps were music to his ears. Bracing himself between her open thighs, he licked the length of her exposed cleft.

  Roz arched off the bed, a tiny whimper escaping her open mouth.

  Oh yes, she liked that. He licked again with purpose, holding her thighs firmly so that she couldn’t escape. With the tip of his tongue, he flicked all around her clit, teasing her but never giving her quite what she needed. Her restless hands grasped handfuls of his hair, begging him wordlessly, trying to guide him to the sweet spot.