“How do you know all this?”
“My mother worked at the Hall. She were there the night it happened. The old man shut himself in the study with a bottle of whiskey and it were all hushed up.”
“And the other candlesticks?” Sam prodded. “What about them?”
The old man’s jaw clenched. “Let the young lad tell you himself. I don’t want nowt to do with it.” They sat in silence for a moment. George’s eyes misted over. “Grace was a beautiful woman. I was sorry to see her go…even though I liked Paddy, well enough.”
“They were happy,” Sam said gently, giving his calloused hand a squeeze. “I wish she’d been able to tell me about her life here.”
“Don’t be letting the old days get in the way for you. And don’t be fooled into thinking Chas will either. I didn’t think I was good enough for your grandmother once she went up to the Hall. And I lost her.” The old man cleared his throat. “Be nice to have you around the place.”
“I think I’m going to cry again,” whispered Sam.
“I best get the tea then,” said George. He got to his feet and lumbered across the room, returning a moment later with two cups of well-milked tea. “It’ll all work out, lass, you’ll see.”
When tea was over, Sam planted a kiss on George’s cheek and slipped out the door. George waved her on her way. “Time to get a move on,” he told her with an experienced look at the sky. “It’s coming on to rain.”
Sam returned his goodbye and gathered up Max’s reins. Her head and her emotions churned with the history George had unfolded. And the weather was reflecting her mood, she realized. Above, the clouds raced across the sky as the blue of the afternoon became shrouded with the coming storm. Max danced a little under her and then set off at a willing trot, eager to be back in his stable.
Hoping she could make it back before the rain fell, Sam urged him to a full gallop, cresting the hill just as Chas’ car sped toward the Hall.
The afternoon light was rippling through the leaves as Chas guided the sleek vehicle up the lane leading to the Hall. What a difference a week had made in his life! He was coming home with a grin on his face, an unheard of occurrence. Over the years, he’d found so many excuses to avoid Porter Hall, he’d almost forgotten how much the estate meant to him. It had taken Sam, reluctant at first, and then full of warmth and passion, to show him what was really important in life.
Perhaps it was time to send Chas “bloody” Porter packing.
They could spend their weekdays in London and then motor down at the weekend. It would take nothing more than a phone call to have Max and Damien brought over on a regular basis and, with Sam around, the house would feel alive again.
He didn't need to check his reflection to know he was grinning from ear-to-ear as he pictured Sam waiting for him. He pressed harder on the accelerator. His heart had been stone cold for so long, he'd forgotten the rush of warmth a home could bring.
This was the way it should be.
As he rounded the last curve, a finger of sunlight escaped the gathering clouds and illuminated the figures of Sam and Max flying over the hill. With the distant sheets of coming rain obscuring the meadows behind them, wisps of her brilliant hair sparked in the stray light like flares from the sun. Max’s glossy flanks shone giving the whole scene a look of a warrior maiden from myth riding hell-bent to greet her lover.
Chas groaned softly, his pleasure at homecoming yielding to his overmastering desire. It would be all he could do to be civil before taking Sam on a personal tour of his bedroom.
He slowed the car and lowered the window, waiting for her to trot toward him. With immense satisfaction he noted that she was wearing the boots he had sent for her. For a moment he imagined her wearing only the boots. With effort, he banished the enticing picture from his mind.
Max pranced a little beside the car as Sam reined him in. She laughed and patted his neck. “Steady, sweetheart. Let’s just take a moment to be polite,” she crooned to him and turned her smiling face toward Chas. “The rain is making him nervous.”
“The weatherman is predicting quite a storm,” Chas returned. He cursed himself silently for the inanity of his response, but when his heart was pounding so, it was hard to be witty.
“Guess I’d better get him back to the stable, then,” said Sam turning Max’s head.
“See you at the house.”
“Nice paint job by the way!” Sam yelled over her shoulder.
With a deep chuckle, Chas waited until they had gone a safe distance and then raced the car the rest of the way up the drive. Not bothering to unload his bag, he hurried back to the stable. Sam had already unsaddled Max and led him into his stall. She had just started grooming the horse when Chas came up behind her. She turned her head but instead of speaking, Chas leaned into her, cradling her body with his. His strong hands covered her small ones as she reached to smooth the brushes across Max’s neck.
Sam stilled a moment, and then continued to groom the horse, his hands on hers, his arms enclosing her own. Their breaths, at first ragged, eased and melded into one rhythm. The warmth of their embrace slipped through their clothing so that her skin was warmed by his, and he by her. He laid his rough cheek against her smooth one; her hair curled against his neck and caressed him.
The reality of such a joyous homecoming was so strong, Chas could hardly breathe.
When Max was sufficiently groomed, Sam turned in his arms and her eyes, luminous and starry bright looked up into his. He leaned into the kiss they had both been waiting for, his lips at first soft and tender, brushing her cheek, her jawline, and then smoothing softly across her own. Their ardor surged; his kisses became harder, more demanding. She pressed against him, clearly longing to take in as much as he would offer. The fever of that possessive, thrusting kiss lasted eons, ricocheting through their entire beings, channeling all of his passion toward this one precious woman.
The kiss might have lasted for hours, but for Max, butting Chas impatiently. The horse knew he had given good service and was entitled to his ration of oats.
Sam and Chas broke apart laughing. Sam lowered her eyes and retrieved the grooming combs, while Chas fetched the oats. Without speaking they tidied the stable, ensured the horses had all they needed and then, hand-in-hand left the stable.
Raindrops were starting to fall and the wind had picked up as Chas got his belongings from the boot of the car. Sam finger-combed her hair and shyly pulled a wisp of straw from her sweater. Noting the signs of feminine preening, Chas felt yet another swell of joy.
Gripping her hand again, they mounted the stone steps and entered the house.
If ever there was a symbol that times had changed, Sam thought, it was this entrance with Chas. Her grandmother, even as the close friend of the lady of the house would have entered by the kitchen door. Her grandfather had probably never set foot in the house at all.
The Weekes were nowhere to be seen. A note on the dining room table indicated that the housekeeper had retired with a headache and had left a tray for them in the kitchen.
Chas raised his eyebrows. “I don’t remember Mrs. Weekes ever having a headache,” he said, a slight smile tugging the corner of his lips. His amazingly wonderful lips, Sam thought. “I suspect she is being discreet.”
They grinned at each other like children. Chas leaned close to whisper conspiratorially, “I’m not sure I fully explained all the treasures that are in my bedroom. Shall we give them a look over now that I’m here?”
“It wouldn’t be professional not to,” Sam agreed.
Together, they ran up the stairs, the old house echoing with their laughter. When they entered his bedchamber, and Chas gently closed the door behind them, all desire to laugh left Sam. Instead, she overflowed with a slow joy as she turned to face the man she loved. She opened her arms and he stepped forward to claim her. Once again his head bent to hers in a slow, masterful kiss. She returned it with searing passion. Her arms rose to his shou
lders, then around his neck, fingers playing with his soft hair. He in turn, stroked her back and, while the kisses went on, gently, he spun her toward the waiting bed. He paused. Smiling, she took his hand and led him the rest of the way.
Outside the storm broke. While rain and wind lashed against the windows, sheets of lightning flashed across the landscape. The power of the storm mirrored the ecstasy they unleashed in each other’s arms. Thunder echoed to Sam’s cries of pleasure and the wind chorused Chas’ groans of passion satisfied.
Afterwards, as they lay listening to the rumbling thunder and tapping rain, Sam knew she had never been so happy. With a faint start of guilt she realized that in her joy at having Chas home again, in accepting the love he offered her, she had not spoken about her own connection to this house. And she had to do that. She had to face her past as it would be reflected in her lover’s eyes. Or else there would be no future for them.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft kiss from Chas. “You’re frowning.”
Sam summoned a smile. Now was not the time. “Just realizing I’m a bit hungry.”
“Miss Redfern, do you mean you want more?” he teased.
“Are you offering?”
“For you, always.” He caught her in his arms again and for quite a while her mind completely forgot her stomach.
Later, completely warm and satisfied, she sighed. He pulled himself up beside her and kissed the tip of her nose. “I think it’s time to raid the kitchen and see what Mrs. Weekes has left for us.”
Wrapped in robes, they made their way down to the kitchen, just as the lights flickered and went out, leaving them in total darkness. Sam squeaked and clutched Chas’ arm. Then, stumbling and laughing, they felt their way to a cupboard housing emergency candles.
Mission accomplished, they sat in the window seat of Chas room, Sam in his lap as they watched the storm slowly retreat from the fields. They ate their fill of the delicacies provided by Mrs. Weekes, and finished their evening with a superb wine.
Sam leaned against Chas’ chest, feeling his heartbeat mirroring her own. She had never felt so completely and utterly happy. But tomorrow she would have to tell him the truth. She took another sip of wine and kissed his neck. Tomorrow.
CHAPTER NINE
The gray dawn crept across the bedroom highlighting Chas’ strong features, relaxed now in sleep. Sam gazed at him tenderly, the warmth of her love and the heat from their first night together washing over her as the sun rose above the horizon.
Their lovemaking had filled Sam in a way she had not thought possible. By turns passionate and gentle, abandoned and considerate, she had never imagined that love could be like this. Chas’ eyes opened and a smile of love and longing suffused his expression. He reached for her again…
Later, when Sam cut through the kitchen to say a quick good morning to Evelyn Weekes, she found herself blushing like a schoolgirl. “Breakfast will be ready in a tick,” she heard Evelyn call after her.
Sam could sense the delight in the housekeeper’s voice. It was no match for her own joy, but it warmed Sam’s heart to know they had her approval.
Outside, the day was uncharacteristically gloomy.
But with Chas waiting for her on the terrace, not even the threat of another rain storm could dampen Sam’s spirits or dim the afterglow from a night spent in her boss’s arms. Not to mention the morning…
“I love your smile,” said Chas, his eyes sleepily raking her over as she approached the table. “Thinking about anything in particular?” he asked.
“Could be.” She sat down across from him, teasing with her comments and leaning towards him in a seductive pose. She could hardly believe this brazen behaviour of hers. It had roared to the surface with each kiss and every embrace. Chas had made her feel confident and strong. Any doubts she had about whether or not he would find her sexy had vanished beneath the heat of his passion.
She was free to flirt. “And you?” she teased. “Anything on your mind?”
“Breakfast?”
“You are so male!”
“I didn’t hear any complaints earlier.” He was enjoying himself way too much, Sam decided. She was all set to snuggle onto his lap and remind him again just how male he was, when Evelyn stepped onto the terrace staggering beneath the weight of a heavily-loaded tray.
Chas jumped to his feet and went to his housekeeper’s aid, whispering something in her ear that Sam couldn’t hear. Smiling brightly, Sam concentrated on not showing her embarrassment as Chas helped Evelyn arrange a full breakfast with juice and coffee and all the trappings. Thank goodness, there wasn’t a full complement of staff to confront.
Sleeping with the lord of the manor had its downside even with the apparent approval of the residents of the house. Inevitably, her thoughts drifted back to her grandmother, a young servant girl with child, living and working in an unhappy household while her future husband toiled in the stables. There would have been no smiles of approval for her.
She must have been so frightened. And then, so brave.
Swallowing back the threat of tears, Sam resolved that tonight before she slipped, hopefully, into Chas’ arms once again, she would tell him everything. About their grandmothers, about the friendship between them, and the disastrous night the young couple had fled Porter Hall carrying a silver candlestick given to them by Eugenie Burton-Porter, insurance against an unknown future.
“Sam?”
The smell of freshly roasted coffee and crispy bacon cut through her thoughts. She was famished.
“Thank you, Evelyn!” Sam called to the housekeeper’s retreating back. “Mmm,” she cooed as she took her first bite. “I could get used to this.”
“We’re getting the special treatment, in case you hadn’t noticed…”
“Actually, I had from the moment we arrived. But then…” Sam reached for her coffee, “you are the apple of your housekeeper’s eye.”
“And yours?”
His eyes bored into hers, bluer than she’d ever seen them. And her body tingled with anticipation. He was demanding an answer, but what to say? Until they cleared the air, any conversation about the future lay on shaky ground. Not only was she frightened of how he would react to her news about their family connection, she had to continually remind herself that Chas was her boss. Porter Hall had buffered them from the reality of London, but in two days, they would be back in the office trying to pick up a normal rhythm. A normal rhythm which would be microscopically examined by everyone at Burton-Porter.
Sam shivered. So much depended on her answer.
Across the table, Chas watched and waited while Sam struggled with what he’d meant as a light-hearted response to her joust.
A feeling of unease surged through him. Was she having second thoughts, or simply adjusting to the new reality of their situation? Whatever it was, he had to tread carefully. She had become so precious to him, so integral to his happiness, that he could not bear to lose her. But where their relationship was going, he was still not sure.
There was their work and positions at Burton-Porter to consider, although he felt confident that they would fall into the normal pattern between boss and employee once they were in the office. Sam was smart enough to protect his privacy, and her own, of course.
Lord, he sounded like a prat! This was no illicit affair. He need look no further than the achingly beautiful woman opposite him to know that this was the real deal. But her averted eyes and the napkin being pleated between her fingers showed her sudden anxiety. If he was true to his feelings, he should immediately reassure her that their love-making had been driven by more than lust.
“Hey! It was just a bit of playful banter…which you started as I recall.” He relaxed into a smile.
“Sorry,” said Sam. “It’s not every day a girl wakes up to find she’s living a dream.” The shadow which flitted across her face didn’t match her words.
Something was definitely troubling Miss Samantha Redfer
n, and Chas was damn sure he knew what it was. Those bloody candlesticks again.
He got abruptly to his feet. Keeping his voice as light and carefree as possible, he suggested they go for a ride to clear the cobwebs. “And then,” he announced, “we really must tackle those last files in the library.”
He could tell by the way Sam hurriedly began to gather their breakfast dishes that his flash of anger hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Just leave them,” he ordered. “Mrs. Weekes can see to them.” He strode off knowing he was acting like a fool, but his pride was hurt, and what had seemed so easy last night was suddenly fraught with complications.
Was it any wonder he’d avoided building a serious relationship with anyone before? If this was love, than maybe it wasn’t for him. It certainly wasn’t part of his history. Bleakly, he wondered if he was doomed by his family’s past, or if he could break free from their miserable traditions of hard arrogance and greed.
And then a hand grabbed his arm and tugged until he broke his stride. He spun around, all fire and ice, took one look at Sam’s crumpled face and folded her into his arms.
“You really are the apple of my eye,” she sobbed into his chest. “I just…got a little overwhelmed, that’s all…” As she tipped her head back, the sun broke through the clouds. Her tears turned into emeralds and he knew he was lost.
“I love you Samantha Redfern.”
Sam sat at the library table, pleasantly tired from the brisk ride across the fields, hands threaded through her hair as she mulled over what was now a nagging question.
How on earth could she tell Chas about her connection to the Hall without breaking the magic? On the backs of the horses and then during their care in the stable, there had not been any opening to broach the subject. Face it, Sam, she told herself, every moment had been so perfect she had been afraid to shatter them with an ill-timed revelation. And so she had retreated immediately to the library, with the only declaration being that she had a few last files to sort.
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