Either Side of
Midnight
Tori de Clare
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Dedicated to those I love most. You know who you are. Everything I do is for you, including the writing of this book.
You provide all the inspiration I’ve ever needed.
In memory of my dad who died when I was 18. He aspired to having a book published. This book is a tribute to him, and to my mum who taught me to play the piano.
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Acknowledgements
Authors give birth to their books. An idea is conceived, then nurtured and developed with care and imagination over many months. It is an intense labour of love. Sleep-disturbing, painful, joyful. Compulsive. Successful completion (at least for me) depends upon the support and encouragement of family and good friends. I’m blessed with both. To those who read this work in its adolescence, thanks so much. Your feedback was invaluable. Without you, this story might have sat idle on my computer for ever. To Deb, my author friend, my partner in hot chocolate and chat, and not crime – your insight and help has always made all the difference. Your creativity never fails to stimulate me.
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No part of this work may be reproduced, electronically transmitted or photocopied in any way or by any means without the express permission of the author and publisher
Copyright © Tori de Clare 2013
Tori de Clare has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
All rights reserved
ASIN: B00DWLBBNY
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Either Side of
Midnight
Tori de Clare
1
Naomi Stone was just nineteen and had been married for less than six hours. After a frantic day of noise and activity, she was standing still and alone in a cramped hotel bathroom, stunned by the gravity of the moment. She’d taken a hot shower, slipped into some flimsy white underwear she’d bought but never tried on, and found herself staring blankly into an enormous mirror, seeing nothing.
She extended her left hand to clear some steam from the glass, aware of the weight of her rings on her fourth finger. She glared at herself. The bra and pants were almost transparent, no imagination required. She returned to her small black travel bag and pulled out a white silk robe which was thigh-length and like the underwear, new and unworn. Hurriedly, she shoved it on, tied the belt firmly at the waist and stared hard at herself again.
The rituals of a traditional wedding had been enacted scene by scene after one rehearsal. The long-awaited day was already a memory and Naomi was motionless, recapturing snatches of it, trying to sort through her feelings. She sensed Nathan’s impatience through the stillness. She’d been too long and the adrenaline had invaded her limbs, nudging her to exit the room and get to him. But she hesitated, shrouded in steam while the hotel stood, silent as a tomb.
They were staying in a bog-standard double room, nothing special. They’d need it for nine hours tops. Luxury could wait. An early flight would take them to Puerto Rico in the Caribbean via New York. From there they’d travel forty miles to the coast and cover another few miles by sea to a small island called Culebra, a sleepy place that no one had ever heard of.
The final destination was a beach villa. They’d drooled over the pictures for months, especially the bedroom with its dark wood four-poster bed draped in a protective veil. According to the camera, the bed shared the room with nothing but a pair of white wooden doors. The doors opened onto an ivory beach sprinkled with palm trees, with a narrow wooden path leading to the ocean – a glistening turquoise expanse crowned with jewels of light, the stereotypical depiction of paradise.
Behind the villa, a crescent of mountains in vivid shades of green, hugged the shoreline. It was just as well that upon the hushed island of Culebra there was little to do but chill. The only sightseeing they’d planned the first week, involved each other and a closed door.
Naomi ripped the turban from her head and shook her hair until it fell in dark snakelike strips, waist length. Against it, her face was pale and flawless, cheeks mildly flushed. She leant forward for a closer inspection, agitated for some ghostly reason that was shifting around the edges of her consciousness, too slippery to pin down.
It had been a day like no other. She’d worked so hard to absorb details that her mind had given up and fogged over. It was the best man’s speech, bizarrely, that was with her now. Dave someone-or-other he was called. Some ex-uni mate who stood up after Nathan to read from a pile of creased notes. Naomi had never met him before the wedding. He reeled off random stories about Nathan and told wedding night jokes that robbed her appetite and reminded her, as if she needed it, that in the arena of the bedroom, she had no experience at all.
Naomi fingered her throat as she scrutinised herself vacantly, and realised with some relief why she was stalling. Her necklace. It was a slim gold chain with a cross. That morning, she’d reluctantly removed it for the first time since her twelfth birthday and worn a row of pearls and diamonds, a family heirloom which meant nothing to her. It was coiled around the taps in front of her now.
Her treasured necklace was in a small blue jewellery box beside a new and expensive bottle of perfume. Both were in a floral bag with a string-pull top, last seen in the black travel bag. Naomi returned purposefully to the bag. Laid carefully in the bottom was an outfit for the morning and clean underwear, nothing more. Confused, she scanned the room. She scooped three drenched towels off the floor and dumped them on the toilet lid. The floor was clear except for a shampoo sachet and scattered scraps of confetti. Her wedding dress filled the door. She heaved it roughly to one side, past caring if it fell. It didn’t, but the floral bag wasn’t underneath.
She swept her gaze from left to right across the white counter surrounding the sink. It was cluttered with everything but the bag holding her necklace. She froze again, trying to patch the day together, much of it a blur, and sketched the last hour in her head.
They’d left the restaurant and driven off to a small gathering, Nathan at the wheel. The black travel bag had been on the passenger side, pushed up against Naomi’s feet, open. The floral bag was slouched lazily on top beside her soap bag containing bathroom essentials.
They raced to the hotel. Nathan touched her legs over her dress and held her hand across the car and told her how relieved he was to have her to himself. The hotel was close to Manchester airport. While Nathan nosed the car against a row of bushes behind the building, Naomi sifted through her bag for the hotel booking information. It was in a polythene sheet with the flight information and two passports. The floral bag must have tipped onto the car floor or been dropped in the hotel grounds.
She remembered how Nathan had run round to the passenger side, opened the door, grabbed her coat and bag, and his, containing everything they’d need for the few hours they had to kill before the flight. One bag over each shoulder, he’d helped her out of the car, taken her hand, found a gap between the bushes and followed the path round the building to the hotel reception. They checked in, took the lift to the second floor and stepped out onto a blue carpet. The silence was heavy and seductive. Nathan gathered her into his arms and rushed, without speaking, to room 209.
The door opened onto a dark room washed in shadows. Nathan closed the door with one foot and set her d
own. He reduced to a tall featureless shape. He pressed her to the nearest wall. His scent was familiar and inviting. His hands were hot around her neck, breaths shallow, pulse alive, stubble a little rough against her face. He kissed her. Tenderness switched gears to urgency. When his lips shifted to her neck, she told him she wanted to shower and change the way she’d planned. He’d told her fine, whatever, be quick. The soap bag was in front of her now on the white counter, almost empty. The contents littered the top. Her floral bag was missing.
A light patter on the bathroom door reminded her that Nathan was there. Without words it also said that time was up.
‘Just coming,’ she called.
Nathan didn’t speak, but she knew he’d crossed the room when the bed groaned beneath his weight. She pictured him on it as quiet descended again, dense with expectation. Naomi turned her back on herself, took hold of the door handle and gently opened the door. The temperature outside the bathroom sharply dropped. She crossed a deep red carpet and within three silent strides was looking at Nathan lying on the bed wearing nothing but the dark trousers of his wedding suit. With a vertically arranged pillow behind him, he was half sitting up, ankles crossed, one arm jammed behind his head. His chest tugged at her attention, but stupidly conscious about staring, she took in the small room for the first time. Double bed, one chair, one dressing table with a blank TV. White kettle on a tray beside miniature cups of milk and stuff to make a drink. Not much to focus on but Nathan. He was grinning when she looked at him again.
‘Mrs Stone. We meet again at last.’
‘Oh, smooth,’ she returned a forced smile. ‘Had that ready a while?’
‘I had to keep myself entertained somehow. Why’ve you been so long?’
Naomi stood, awkward and tense.
‘Sorry. Minor panic. I’ve lost my necklace.’
A pause. ‘Lost it?’
‘Well, not exactly. I had it in the car. It was definitely in my bag, but it’s gone.’
‘It can’t have gone, Naims. It’s weird seeing you without it. But great seeing you without your jeans.’ He wet his lips. ‘You look sensational.’
While Nathan ran his eyes over her legs, Naomi was distracted. ‘It feels weird.’ She stood stiffly while Nathan examined her thoroughly.
‘Are going to stand there all night?’ he asked.
‘Shall I turn the light off?’
Nathan laughed. ‘No way! I’m not about to imagine you in the dark.’ He extended his arm and opened his hand. ‘Come over here.’
Naomi paced forward uncertainly and took his hand. She sat carefully down and lowered her head against Nathan’s stomach. She twisted her neck and took in his hair, mid-brown, short and teased into style, blue-grey eyes, strong bone structure; the slight cleft in his chin.
She reached for her necklace through habit and found bare skin. ‘I can’t believe it’s over.’
‘Me neither.’
‘Today has been surreal.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Nathan muttered, leaning forward. She half sat up to meet him.
‘It’s felt more like a dream – as if I’ve been watching myself from a distance.’
‘In my favourite dreams, we’re not in a cold church chanting vows.’
‘No? Where are we?’
‘One guess,’ Nathan said, cupping her neck in one hand. He guided her face to his and made gentle contact with his lips. It was the kind of non-committal kiss that was going nowhere. Nathan pulled back, a faraway look in his eyes. His focus was over her shoulder on the far side of the room. Time stretched. His expression was unsettlingly serious. He rested his forehead against hers and breathed out.
‘Nathan, what’s wrong?’
‘This place,’ he sighed. His eyes flicked round the room. ‘This thing,’ he slapped the bed. ‘It’s like a bed of rock. The pillows aren’t much better, and the view from that window really sucks.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘I can’t help it. It’s our wedding night.’ Nathan straightened up, agitated. He raked his fingers through his hair. ‘I can’t believe we didn’t book something better for tonight. I wanted this to be special for you.’
‘We’ll be out of here in no time.’
‘Exactly. By tomorrow night we’ll be in an exotic pad with a four poster bed and our own patch of private beach . . .’ Nathan closed his eyes for a second as if to brace himself. ‘OK, confession time. While I’ve been waiting, I’ve been thinking.’ He looked at her now.
‘What about?’
‘This is really difficult.’ Naomi fingered her bare throat again. Her heart fluttered uneasily. ‘OK, I’m just going to say it.’
Silence.
‘OK.’
Nathan drew a noisy breath. ‘I can wait one more night if you want me to.’ His jawline twitched with tension. ‘Your call.’
Overcome with relief, Naomi collapsed into a smile. ‘That really hurt, didn’t it?’
‘Too right it did.’ Nathan dropped his head and pulled her to his chest and kissed her forehead. She tucked her face beneath his chin and inhaled the fragrance on his neck – a subtle mixture of aftershave and a scent that was uniquely his. The tremor of a pulse in his neck, quivered against her cheek. The only sound was the whisper of silk as his hand paced up and down her back. ‘I’m serious, Naims. You’re worth the wait.’
‘I’m thinking about it.’
‘Don’t take too long. This is killing me.’
‘Fine. Decision made.’
Nathan pulled back to look at her. His eyebrows pulled low. ‘Already?’
‘Yes.’ She tossed her hair behind her. ‘I don’t want to wait.’
‘Sure?’
‘Certain. I want this as much as you do.’
He smiled now and moved to kiss her again. ‘No you don’t.’
She pressed her fingers to his lips. ‘Yes I do. But I do have one tiny condition.’
‘Name it.’
She detached herself from him and hurried to the chair beside the bed. Her short, cream raincoat was draped over the arm of the chair. When Naomi picked it up, it felt heavier than it should. Nathan sat up to watch her.
‘What are you doing?’
Naomi slid out of her robe and into her coat. She roughly folded it across her chest and tied the belt at the waist. Nathan looked confused, but intrigued.
‘I have to get my necklace.’
‘What? You’re leaving? Can’t it wait?’
‘Sorry. I can’t relax. I know I’ve got attachment issues to my necklace, but I don’t want to deal with them tonight, OK? I’m worried we might have dropped the bag on the way up here.’
Her wedding shoes were tucked beneath the chair. She pressed her feet into them.
Nathan had frozen to the bed. ‘Hey, just slow down would you? If you want it that badly, I’ll get it for you. Let me cool off a minute and find a top, OK?’
‘No need. By the time you’ve found one I can be back.’
‘No, Naims.’ Nathan’s eyes scanned the room. ‘I’ve got a T-shirt somewhere.’
Naomi collected the keys from the dressing table. ‘Don’t be so macho.’
She scurried to the bed, dropped a kiss on his head then bolted for the door. ‘You’re adorable when you’re frustrated. I’ll be quick, I promise.’
She slipped through the door and took long carefree strides along the empty hotel corridor towards a door that was half wood, half glass. A weight bashed against her right leg which turned out to be her phone. She withdrew it just as Nathan shouted from behind.
‘Naims!’
She turned to see the naked top half of him leaning round the doorframe. She laughed and held up her phone and signalled for him to stop shouting.
‘Call me,’ she mouthed.
Naomi disappeared through the heavy door. When she glanced behind her through the glass, Nathan had vanished inside the room. The stairs were beyond another door beside the lift. Opting for the stairs, she paused to glance d
own them at a tired navy carpet. A wooden dado rail painted white, divided the wall. She bounced down the stairs almost weightlessly. The keys jangled in her pocket. Her phone vibrated in her hand.
She pressed the receive button. ‘Missing me already?’
‘What do you think? I’m coming with you.’
‘No need.’
‘No arguments.’
‘You’ll have to catch me up,’ Naomi said playfully.
‘I intend to. I’ve found my top and I’m just putting my shoes on. Where are you now?’
Naomi was close to the bottom of the stairs. She noticed her new wedding ring as her hand slid along the stair-rail. It was platinum, plain and slim. It looked good beside the large solitaire diamond. She’d soon get used to the feel of it. The tension had melted and been replaced by a surge of energy.
‘I’m almost out of the building.’
‘I’m just leaving the room,’ Nathan shot into her right ear.
Naomi left the stairs and crossed in front of a mahogany reception desk. She switched the phone to her other ear.
‘You’re fussing like my mother, Nathan,’ she said, enjoying the game far more than her frustrated voice implied. ‘I’m a big girl now.’
‘So I’ve just seen.’ Naomi giggled into her phone while Nathan laughed in her ear. ‘I’m going to have to carry you over the threshold all over again.’
‘Twenty-first century, Nathan. Maybe I’ll carry you.’
An ash-blonde receptionist briefly caught her eye from behind the desk. Naomi radiated some warmth in her direction and nodded, but the receptionist, hassled and busy, didn’t reciprocate. She dropped her eyes and her attention onto a large pile of papers she was searching with long red fingernails. When the phone started ringing, she glared at it like it had to be kidding.
‘I can’t believe you’re stalking me,’ Naomi continued, forgetting the frosty blonde. The magic of tonight meant blocking everyone else out of it with absolute relish.
‘I’m going to drag you back to bed.’
Either Side of Midnight (The Midnight Saga Book 1) Page 1
