Chapter Eleven

“Wasn’t that fantastic?” Keira sighed with pleasure as Tom led her up the staircase after dinner. “Gareth is so funny. You know he played rugby for Wales, don’t you? He was a second row forward.”

“That means nothing to me, I’m afraid. I did my utmost to avoid the rugby pitch at school, and I definitely didn’t have you down as a fan, Keira.”

“I’m full of surprises,” she said enigmatically.

He pushed open the door to their room. He was still feeling what his mother would have called “grumpy”. She’d have told him off and said, “Snap out of it, Tom, dear, for heaven’s sake” or “the wind will change and your face will stick like that”. What a good job it didn’t really happen, thought Tom; he’d have the devil to try to cure anyone of that. He wasn’t sure that there was a cure for the way he did feel either, as a toxic mix of confusion and doubt rampaged through his head and heart.

He’d hardly said a word, certainly not a civil one, to anyone after their “chat”, because Charlie’s words kept tormenting him. Was he going to hurt Keira? Was he running away? All he knew right now was that he needed the comfort of her arms around him, desperately needed it. He placed a hand possessively on her back and propelled her gently through the door.

“Full of surprises?” he murmured, the words catching in his throat. “I sincerely hope so. In you go, please.”

He followed her inside. When they’d arrived, one of the staff had taken their bags up to the room, so this was her first glimpse of it. Keira had described his own room at the Lodge as “large”, and from her gasp, she must think their suite at Carew Hall was off the scale. Even Tom had to agree that the bed was incredible in its own right.

Her mouth gaped as she walked around the magnificent four-poster with its foot posts and head posts and tapestry bed hangings.

She shook her head in disbelief. “How old is that?”

“Queen Anne, but don’t ask me if she slept in it.”

“I hope they changed the sheets if she did!” She laughed as he took off his jacket and laid it on a chair. She ran a hand over the silk bed cover and bounced on it experimentally. “Do people really sleep in these things these days?”

“No, they do not,” said Tom. He knew damn well what Charlie was up to. This was the room they gave bridal couples who held their weddings at Carew.

She dashed to the window. “And—wow—the view. You can see all over the gardens. It’s amazing.”

He watched her as she gazed out, straining her eyes to see the formal gardens stretching out in front of the hall. Moonlight had broken through the clouds and cast a silver light over the lawns and terraces, stone tubs and statues. “You are so lucky, Tom.”

He sat down on the bed, unlacing his shoes.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“I said you’re so lucky. To live here, have lived here, I mean.”

He pulled off his socks and climbed onto the bed, stretching out against the oak backboard.

“Come here.”

“Why?”

I need you so much, I want you to… He squashed down the words that sprang unbidden to his mind. “I want you to make love to me.”

She stood just out of reach of him, eyes sparkling with sensual promise. “Not until you admit how lucky you are to have all this.”

“One. I don’t have all this, it belongs to my brother. Two. I couldn’t stand having all this. In fact, I thank my lucky stars every day that I don’t have the responsibility of keeping the damn place going. Three. It is a pure accident of birth that I have even had the use of it.”

Keira stayed out of reach, her voice cross now. “Isn’t that rather a piece of inverted snobbery? Can’t you just accept what you’ve been given and be glad? It’s not as if you’re oppressing the peasants, is it? In a moment, you see, I’ll be thinking you only want a pleb like me to salve your conscience.”

“Oh God. No. Please!” He jumped off the bed and was with her in a moment. Holding her, kissing her hair. “Ignore me, Keira,” he breathed. “I’m just feeling…tired.”

“I’ll wake you up.”

“Hmmm.” He nuzzled her hair, wanting to cry out what he felt. Knowing he couldn’t.

“Hold on a moment, Tom. I thought you were opposed to exploiting the facilities of the hall for your own pleasure?”

“I’m a hypocritical bugger, you know that. Now, let’s see exactly what you have on under this dress.” He took her hand and led her to the bed. “Come here.”

Tom knelt on the cover, helping Keira to do the same.

Face-to-face with her, he slipped a finger inside the cleavage of her dress and pulled it back. Goose bumps rose in the cleft between her breasts.

She closed her eyes and parted her lips.

Tom wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked, but desire had snatched his voice clean away. He took her face in his hands as delicately as he could and pressed his lips to hers.

Keira clung to his back, her hands feeling small against the powerful muscles in his shoulders. He flicked his tongue inside her mouth. Her knees slithered a little on the silk bedcover, and he had to hold her upright against him with one strong arm. His fingers slipped inside her bra and gently tweaked a nipple, which responded so quickly, so strongly, it scared her…the sweet pleasure-pain telling how much she wanted him, how desperate she was for his touch.

A shiver rippled through her as she raised her hands to the stiff cotton of his collar, pulling the silk bowtie free. She set to work on the top buttons of his shirt as his hands slid up her thighs, pulling up the dress above her hips to her waist. His hands reached to cup her bare bottom and pull her against him.

“Do you know how cold I’ve been with next to nothing on all night?”

“I appreciate it, I promise you…”

“How much?”

“This much,” he said, giving the cheeks of her bottom an overenthusiastic squeeze.

“Oh!”

She let out a tiny gasp as he drew the dress slowly up over her body, and she felt the peachy silk tantalising her midriff, breasts, neck and face.

“You’re so beautiful,” said Tom with a look that left a trail of fire from head to toe. She knew he wanted her, but the expression in his eyes was different tonight. The longing scared her, and she suddenly dreaded if this was the last time they would make love. But Tom hadn’t said or done anything to make her think that. He wasn’t going yet, not for weeks, but he’d been different tonight…distant.

As he unclasped the front of her bra and released her breasts, Keira let herself open up to the moment. Only this moment; nothing else mattered. Freed from the soft restraint of silk and lace, bared to the cool night air, she felt gloriously wanton. He took the weight of her breasts in both his hands, cradling them in his strong fingers. She arched her back, reveling in the way his lips touched each one with a reverent kiss. His tongue flicked the dark areola, lapping it with tiny wet strokes that made the tips pucker and her sex wet. He suckled her and then blew on each nipple, his breath making them tingle and ache. His hands explored her naked back, leaving imprints of heat everywhere they came to rest.

Her new lace thong was next to be dispatched. Hooking his thumbs inside the waistband, he tugged it over her thighs and down to her knees, pulling her against him so her breasts flattened against the cotton of his dress shirt. His fingers found their way between her legs and slipped inside her. Oh… She tensed her thighs and buttocks, wanting, needing the restraining lace to be pulled away so she could open her legs wide to invite him deeper.

“Please…take it off,” she begged, clutching at the cotton of his shirt with her hands.

His voice was raw. “Not until you come.”

That was it. She arched her pelvis against him as he teased her mercilessly and yelped in pleasure as he stroked her. Heard him gasp as her nails dug into his back through his shirt, and he wouldn’t stop tormenting her. Rubbing gently, then firmly, insistent, uncaring that she was in exquisite agony. What he was doing to her, what he could do to her. It had to be wrong, to be boneless, weak as a kitten from one man’s look, a word, a touch.

“Oh…”

She whimpered her need, screwed her eyes tight shut as waves of pressure built inside. Already his other hand was against her thigh, between flesh and lace, pulling the tiny string taut. “Please…”

He didn’t even have to do it. Just the thought of her knickers being ripped off by him was enough. The anticipation of that sharp tug, the soft sting as the lace was torn from her body, was sending her over the edge.

“Yes…oh Tom… I’m going to…”

His arms were around her now, lowering her to the bed roughly. She opened her eyes, buzzing on the edge of her climax, trying to hold back as he stripped off his shirt and trousers.

Then he was above her, whipping her thong down over her knees. She spread her legs wide, greedy to have him deep inside her. Heat suffused through her limbs as she felt the heavy, masculine weight of him between her thighs.

His hard length probed the entrance of her.

“Look at me,” he demanded, forcing her eyes to lock with his. “I want to see you come.” The intensity of desire in his eyes scorched her with its heat, and her last thought as he thrust into her was this: how had she ever come to want someone this much? Tom drew himself out and thrust again, taking her with him to wherever he wanted to lead. She was gone, then, clenching around him and beyond all help.

It was a few minutes later that she realised. She knew what had happened as soon as he’d rolled from her body, even as she lay, still sheltered with his arms around her, feeling as if nothing could ever touch her.

“Tom.”

“Hmm.” He pulled her tighter, crushing her breasts against his chest in an embrace she never wanted to break but had to. His breath was warm on her neck.

“I need to go to the bathroom. There’s something we forgot.”

His arms tightened, and she held her breath, waiting for his response. It was a movement, not a word. A slackening of his embrace, then a groan. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I am so sorry, Keira.”

There was blame to be laid on both sides, Keira knew that. They had simply been in such a hurry, in such an urgent, clutching need for each other, it had overwhelmed all common sense. She sensed his need for a piece of solid ground to stand on. “Don’t worry about it. It’s safe.”

“But…we didn’t use a condom. I’m a doctor. There’s no excuse.”

“Tom, it’ll be okay. It’s the wrong time. The right time. You know what I mean.”

She held her breath, waiting for him to suggest…what she ought to be suggesting herself, emergency contraception. He was a doctor, he was leaving, neither of them was in any position to start a long-term relationship. It would be irresponsible of him not to suggest it.

“Do you want to talk about this?” he asked, stroking her hair.

“Not really, no. I know I should be able to talk to you because of what you do.”

“Yes, you should.”

“But that kind of makes it worse, don’t you see? More embarrassing. I don’t want to go into the details, but I’m sure it will be okay. In fact, I’m certain. And if you really want me to, I can make sure.”

He rolled away from her and lay looking at the ceiling. After a few moments, he let out a sigh and kissed the tip of her nose. His words were measured and soft. “Let’s talk about it later. If you say it’s fine, it’s fine.”

“I guess so,” she murmured. Minutes later, feeling ridiculously low, she slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

Hearing the latch click, Tom pushed himself up in bed. He lay back against the pillows and ran his hand through his hair, groaning inwardly. Across the room, he saw himself reflected in the ornate mirror over the dressing table. He saw a man who looked older than thirty-four years. Older and definitely not wiser. It was his fault they hadn’t taken precautions, but it seemed like they’d been lucky. Yet it was still so risky… What should he do?

The creak of the bathroom door lifting roused him. “Come here. Please,” he said, pulling back the cover. Should he suggest she take a morning-after pill? He felt a jag of guilt at her pale face as she padded across to bed.

His hand closed around hers and drew her towards the cooling sheets. “Just let’s hold each other,” he murmured, dragging the duvet over them to shut out the night air.

 

 

Keira was glad that Tom asked for breakfast in bed at the hall so they didn’t have to face Charlie and Gareth. He needn’t have bothered. When the two of them came downstairs, they found the two men had gone out first thing to open the local Christmas fair.

Back at the Lodge, Tom tried to get her to stay for the rest of the day. He used his little-boy voice, the one she knew shouldn’t have the effect not only on her body but her brain too. It was pathetic yet irresistible, like being tempted by a triple scoop of double choc ice cream when you really shouldn’t have one.

“I shouldn’t. I need to go home. I’ve got loads of marking to do.”

“You always use that excuse, and it won’t wash anymore. At least have lunch with me. Please. I’ve got something special in.”

She almost melted. Almost. “Tom—don’t look at me like that. It won’t work.”

“Please, Miss Grayson.”

“Now you’re overdoing it.”

“Pretty please,” he wheedled.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” As she swiped at him with a cushion, Tom dodged.

“Stay,” he said simply.

“Okay. But only because you’ve got something special planned,” she replied. “It had better be good.”

He smiled back, a very grown-up smile that made her breasts tingle. “I think I can promise you that.”

It was good. For a beginner, she thought with a smile as she sat in the dining room, staring at a mahogany table laid for two with fine china, silver cutlery and linen napkins.

She heard a call from the kitchen. “Won’t be long. Just getting the roast potatoes out of the oven.”

Her stomach rumbled. All morning she’d been twitching to help, flicking idly through an old copy of Country Life as enticing sounds and smells wafted in from the kitchen. Tom had forbidden her even to go into the hallway in case she saw what he was cooking. Now, seated at the mahogany table in the dining room, she noticed the debris stacked at one end. Rucksacks, hiking boots, medical textbooks, a net-thing that she could only guess was for mosquitoes… All patiently waiting for the time when they’d be needed again. The half-packed rucksack seemed to be mocking her. “When I’m full,” it whispered spitefully, “I’m going with him, and you’re staying here.”

“Dinner is served!”

Tearing her eyes from the half-packed bags, she found Tom proudly bearing a platter of cooked meat. It looked like roast beef to her, slightly overdone but still edible.

“Your beef.”

Keira sniffed. “Thank you, Carew, but next time, don’t take so much time about it.”

He bowed low. “Profuse apologies. It won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn right it won’t.” She giggled. “Otherwise you’ll be sacked.”

“Don’t spoil it,” he warned on his way back to the kitchen. “Even the likes of minions have feelings, you know.”

They were both playing games. He knew it, she knew it. Playing silly beggars to hide the awkwardness they felt. He returned with a dish of roast potatoes, which she eyed critically. Hmm, they looked okay and they smelled good too. When a tureen of steaming vegetables and a platter of Yorkshire puddings arrived, she was tempted to applaud but decided it wasn’t dignified. Besides, his puddings looked sadly deflated.

As Tom handed her the plate, a tea towel dangling from one arm, he appeared pathetically pleased with himself.

“Well?”

“Looks great,” she said, nodding in approval, “What happened to the Yorkshire puddings?”

He sat at the table. “I really have no idea.”

“I bet you didn’t have the oven hot enough.”

He feigned a hurt expression. “Hey, I can’t be good at everything,”

“You’re not.” She smiled. “But don’t worry about it.”

“I won’t,” he said imperiously and cut into the beef.

More games, thought Keira, as he dipped a forkful of meat into a small mountain of horseradish and she winced. He took a bite of the beef, chewed and sighed. “By God, that’s good, even if I say so myself. I know it’s a cliché. This is one thing I do miss about England.”

“What? The Sunday roast? I’d have thought you’d have far more exotic fare to miss than that. Is that all you miss?” she added casually.

“Of course not. Obviously I miss other things. Warm beer, traffic wardens, outdoor concerts in the pouring rain, England losing the cricket. All the usual stuff.”

“That sounds cynical. What about friends? Charlie? Your mum?”

“Of course, though I haven’t seen her for years. She lives on some monumentally huge ranch in Argentina. As for Charlie…” He laughed bitterly. “He’s got Gareth to entertain him and the estate to run.”

“Now I know you’re being cynical. I know he misses you.” She was about to say he told me as much, but thought better of it. “And when you’re here, do you miss your friends out there?”

“Of course,” he said, offering her a bowl of vegetables. “It’s human nature, isn’t it?”

So. He’d turned the question neatly back to her without elaborating any further.

She thought carefully about her reply.

“I’ve never been that far away to miss anyone.”

“Never?”

She shook her head. “Not really. I’ve had the odd week in Spain, and then I bummed around Europe a bit when I’d finished university. I’ve been to some really dangerous places like Paris and Venice, you know the kind of thing,” she said, spooning peas and carrots carefully onto the plate.

“No Thailand or Australia?”

She laughed. “No way. Couldn’t afford it, and even if I’d had the cash, Mum needed me. Now can we eat?”

“Of course.”

He’d eased off on the interrogation, but it was temporary. As she pushed her plate away, begging him not to add more Yorkshires to it, he threw another question at her out of the blue.

“Your mum’s very special to you, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she is. I guess it’s the same with all only children, and she brought me up alone.”

“Was that because your father left you?”

“You’re sounding like this is a consultation.”

“Sorry. It goes with the territory. But I do want to know, Keira.”

“You know he left us. Well, that’s not strictly true. There was no ‘us’ to leave back then. You see, he got Mum pregnant and made himself scarce before I was even born.”

“That’s tough. It must have been incredibly hard for your mother.”

“It was. It was the seventies then. I mean, my gran and granddad supported her. She was only nineteen and living at home But still, the…”

“…neighbours talked about her?” he said softly, laying his knife and fork together, side by side, on his plate.

“Yes. Of course, even now it would still be tough, bringing up a baby on your own. Not much changes. Tough then, tough now.”

Keira’s breath caught as the unthinkable forced its way into her mind. It would be more than tough. She knew that as well as anyone, after her mother’s experience.

“I don’t believe in the good old days,” he said. “I believe in making the most of the moment.”

Rising to his feet, he dumped his crumpled napkin on the table. “Now, if you’ve finished, come over and sit with me.”

He waited for her to go through the door first, then followed, shutting the mess away. Flopping down on the sofa, he settled against her body.

“Tell me all about your mother, then. I know how close you are.”

“Extra close and special,” said Keira. “She had a lump removed from her breast earlier this year, and she’s on the mend now, but I’m still worried.”

Tom stayed silent, holding her, waiting for her to speak. She squeezed his hand.

“It scares you,” she went on. “Rocks your world to think that life isn’t infinite. That this is it, all we have. She’s okay, that’s what matters. Lots of people don’t have the happy ending.” She felt his arm tighten protectively around her and wanted to cry. “You must think I’m being a wimp after what you see every day.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong,” he murmured against her hair. “I haven’t got so hardened—no doctor ever does—to forget what it means to see someone you love in pain, or worse, to actually lose them.”

“And it must be different when it’s someone close. You must feel the same as anyone else, even though you’re a doctor.”

“Maybe worse, because sometimes there isn’t a damn thing you can do. And you feel helpless and hopeless, believe me. You feel sick and wretched.”

She twisted round to look at him. “Has it happened to you, then?”

Tom regarded her for a moment, then dropped a kiss on her forehead. “More often than you would believe, Keira.” His voice tailed off, and she felt his breath against the back of her neck. She waited for him to go on, to tell her his story. Instead, he pushed her away from him, firmly but gently, and got to his feet. “Now. Enough of this doom and gloom. Can I get you a coffee or a chocolate truffle? Or did you get enough of those off Gareth last night?”

Licking her lips dramatically, Keira shot him a teasing look. “Tom, I do believe you’re a tiny bit jealous.”

“Of a gay rugby player? I think not.”

She narrowed her eyes, pretending she didn’t believe him. “I’ll make the coffee,” she said, patting him on the head indulgently. “I do it so much better than you.”

In the kitchen, waiting by the machine, she smiled to herself. She was now the mistress of its permutations. It had so many options it probably even did your highlights and the laundry while it brewed your espresso.

She stopped suddenly, reality slamming into her with the force of a truck.

In a matter of weeks, Tom would leave for Papua, and here she was eating Sunday lunch with him as if they’d been together for years, and it was all a sham.

“Keira? Are you okay in there? Has the machine swallowed you whole?”

She picked up the cups and tried to stop her hands from shaking as Tom’s bulk appeared in the door frame.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, crossing over to her.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“That phrase always means the opposite, in my experience. I hear it at least three times a day in the surgery.”

“Nothing we can talk about.”

“You mean nothing we agreed to talk about.”

“It’s beyond the terms of the arrangement.”

“Ah.” Tom hid his distaste for the word with an ironic smile. Did she have to put it quite like that? An arrangement sounded like business, cold and clinical. Like an exchange of goods or services. Tom was surprised how much he didn’t like that.

“I need to get back when we’ve had these.”

“If you must. Call me if you need to about anything, and shall I see you in the week?”

“Yes, and when we…”

“Shhh.” He placed a finger on her lips. “Save it until the last possible moment.”

 

 

After he’d given her a lift home in his ridiculous sports car, after he’d insisted on coming up to the flat and asking if he should stay overnight, and after being turned down, he went home and called her.

“I only want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Fine.”

“Keira?”

“I’m tired. I’m going to bed. I’ll call you later in the week.”

“Wait, please.”

“Good night, Tom.”

Tom fought the urge to snap back. He contemplated going round, even though it would be nearly midnight when he got there. As he lay awake long into the night, his mind ran wild with confusion. The clock showed three a.m. before he finally fell asleep with his brother’s words turning over and over in his brain. Maybe Charlie was right—maybe he was running away…from everything.