Fever Cure

The road to heartbreak is paved with honorable intentions…

After a year dealing with her mum’s health scare and the end of a bad relationship, Keira Grayson was looking forward to kicking up her heels at her best friend’s wedding. Until she kicks off her (spare) knickers in front of the trifecta of perfection. Tom Carew. Son of an earl, honorable doctor and possibly the hottest man on the planet. One look at Keira’s delightful embarrassment, and Tom’s hormone meter spins off the charts. Trouble is, his bags are already packed to return to the jungles of Papua New Guinea. He has patients waiting—and amends to make for a terrible choice that left devastation in its wake. They both reason that indulging in a one-time dinner date won’t hurt…until their inhibitions melt away in the heat of their lethal sexual chemistry. Leaving Keira wondering if a sizzling fling is just what the doctor ordered, or another prescription for relationship disaster. And Tom fighting a battle against inner demons that could shatter both their hearts.

Warning: This book contains a hot aristocratic doctor, sparky heroine, new uses for a chaise longue, a steamy shower scene and a knicker-ripping encounter in a four-poster bed.

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520 Macon GA 31201 Fever Cure Copyright © 2011 by Phillipa Ashley ISBN: 978-1-60928-499-2 Edited by Linda Ingmanson Cover by Kanaxa All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: July 2011 www.samhainpublishing.com

Fever Cure Phillipa Ashley

Dedication

To John and Charlotte, with love.

Chapter One

“Is this what you’re looking for?” Keira Grayson heard the man’s voice and knew what it meant without having to look. Even though she was crouched down, rooting among the fallen leaves by the notice board, she knew what he had in his hand. Not the pants, she pleaded silently, please let it not be the pants. “They are yours, then?” That voice again. It was two parts James Bond to one part Royal Shakespeare Company, and she just knew that this was going to be excruciating. Wincing as her thighs protested, she began to push herself to her feet. Goose bumps dimpled her arms as the wind whipped across the church steps. Her fingers were numb, and only her face felt warm and glowing. “Forgive me for the intrusion, but do you need any help getting up?” “I’m fine. Thanks. Really.” Keira turned like a snail, trying to put off the moment she had to face the owner of that voice as long as possible. It was just what she didn’t need when she was late for the Wedding of the Century. Then again, it was a tiny humiliation compared to the way the year had turned out so far. What was losing your knickers in front of a handsome stranger compared to all that? She stuck on a smile, but her heart still pounded as she saw the stranger who’d picked up her thong from the church steps. Why couldn’t he be some harmless old gentleman with weak eyesight? Why did he have to be tall and dark and totally gorgeous? He also had very dark blue eyes, a lovely natural tan (most likely from wintering in the Caribbean, like you do when you have a cut-glass accent like that) and an interesting nose. It would have been a boringly straight nose, but it had definitely seen some action at some point. Keira had seen similar noses before, but she doubted if Mr. Scarily Handsome’s had been damaged in a gang fight or “a bit of bovver down the boozer”, as her next-door neighbour liked to put it. She doubted if Mr. Scarily Handsome had ever been in the boozer in his life. He looked made for sipping a single malt in some tweedy pub or propping up his college bar with a pint of real ale. It didn’t stop him from being hot, though, and right now he was gazing down at her with a look that flirted between amusement and politeness. “If you aren’t sure,” he went on, “perhaps it would be best if I kept hold of it? We wouldn’t want the bride to find it here on the steps, would we?”

Fever Cure

Keira was torn between curtseying and melting in a pool of drool. She went for the middle ground as usual: polite and friendly. Even her mum would have been proud of her. “No, er… We wouldn’t, and it does, um, appear to be mine. It was in my handbag, you see, it’s so small, the bag, that is, and there’s hardly any room for a mobile, and I was looking for my lipstick and…” “…it just fell out?” he said, like a teacher who’d found her up to no good behind the bike sheds. Not that Victoria Lane Primary had bike sheds since a disaffected ex-pupil had set fire to them. Not that many of the kids had bikes. Whatever, thought Keira. Mr. Scarily Handsome hadn’t been near Victoria Lane; she’d have bet her gas bill on that. He managed a small smile, his eyes doing that sexy crinkly thing at the corners. Keira’s stomach did a sexy crinkly thing too, which annoyed her immensely. “Well, yes.” “Ah.” As he held out his finger, the thong wiggled tantalizingly and her cheeks heated up again. “Thanks,” she said, holding out her hand to take her knickers off the cheeky sod. Her heart skipped a long, slow beat, and it was all she could do not to stare. It was his hands. Up close, she could see the myriad of tiny scars dusting his fingers and knuckles, like the sprinkles on a child’s cupcake. She dragged her gaze upward to his eyes. Dark blue, they were, like the indigo at the end of the rainbow, and right now they were looking puzzled. She felt a blush of shame flame her cheeks, and she smiled reassuringly. “Is there anything wrong?” She shook her head and gave him an even bigger smile. He must think she was a grinning idiot, but it didn’t matter. He was probably self-conscious enough without her making it worse, and besides, everyone had scars. It’s just that hers were buried deep inside. “Nothing. Really. It’s just a bit…chilly out here. Thanks for finding, er…it. I’m staying at my friend’s after the wedding, and I hadn’t got time to collect any proper underwear—” “Quite.” “I grabbed it at the last minute,” she said patiently. Whew, this was like explaining a maths problem to one of the less able pupils. “It was a joke Christmas present from a friend, you see, and I was in a rush to get to the wedding, and I just stuffed it into my handbag and…” She sucked in a breath, desperate to tell him they were just so not her kind of pants. “It even has the price tag on,” she added, then instantly wished the words back. Okay, that was it. She was going to curl up and die, right here and now, on the steps in front of him. “Really. It’s fine. It could have happened to anyone.” She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not teasing me, are you?” “I wouldn’t dare, believe me.”

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She didn’t. Opening her bag, she squashed the pants in the bottom as best she could, hoping Mr. Scarily Handsome would carry on up the church steps without saying anything else. When she glanced up from her bag, she found him still gazing down at her in an intense way that made her want to look away or melt on the flagstones in a puddle of shame. A cool gust of wind blew round the corner, and she tugged her wrap tighter. “I suppose I’d better get inside.” He raised his eyebrows. “Yes, better not risk hypothermia. Or pneumonia.” Keira bridled. This dress wasn’t that low. “You think so?” A smile touched his lips. “Not really. Bride or groom?” “The bride, Carrie. She’s a colleague from school.” “Then you’ll want the pews to the left of the altar.” “Is it really that important?” she asked as the wind pasted her dress to her legs and goose bumps raced up her thighs. “Absolutely vital. Particularly if the bride decides to get herself abducted by another man. That’s where the tradition comes from. In medieval times, women were often forced to marry. The groom needed his right hand free to defend his bride from other suitors.” O-kayy, the man was mad as a fish as well as scary. “I don’t think that’s likely to happen,” sniffed Keira. “Carrie and Matt are crazy about each other. I think we’d have known by now if she was going to be swept off her feet at the altar.” “Even so. Better to be safe than sorry.” “Quite.” Mr. Scarily Handsome narrowed his eyes and pushed back the cuff of his jacket to uncover a tanned wrist with a chunky watch. It was all dials and gold case and thick leather strap, just like the one she’d once dreamed of buying for Alex, back in the day when she’d thought he was worth it. “Ah. At last. Here she is.” Keira followed his gaze to the bottom of the church lane. A silver Rolls Royce had pulled up at the kerb, the paintwork gleaming in the pale October sun. “I must be getting back to the groom,” he said, adjusting the creamy rose in his buttonhole. “And tell him his bride has just arrived.” “So you’re the best man, then?” she asked. Best man? Tom Carew gazed down at the achingly sexy girl in front of him and caught his breath. Her question had momentarily floored him, and that didn’t happen very often. Almost never, in fact. Tom didn’t allow himself to be caught off balance by anyone these days, let alone a woman. But how, he asked himself, could he ever be described as a “best man”? He wasn’t even sure if he was a good man, let alone

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the best. All morning he’d expected someone to come up, tap him on the shoulder and say, “Excuse me, sir. Aren’t you here under false pretences? We hardly think you qualify for the position.” They hadn’t, of course. No one at the wedding, apart from perhaps his friend, the groom, thought he was anything but a gentleman. In fact, only two people on the planet knew the real and very ugly truth. “You are the best man, aren’t you?” the girl asked again, pushing a strand of chestnut hair out of her eyes. “Well observed,” said Tom, not caring whether she thought he was an arrogant, over-privileged cliché. And yet, she was looking up at him with an encouraging smile that made him feel like he was ten years old and about to get a medal for a race he hadn’t run in. “Now I know you’re winding me up,” she said. Tom’s heart skipped a beat as she shivered and flushed at the same time. He knew he shouldn’t have teased her, but he just couldn’t resist it. Her embarrassment was just so, well…so damn sexy. She was one of those old-fashioned girls, a dying breed with a slim waist, lush bottom and… He gave himself a mental slap on the face and tried to look intimidating again. It kept people at a distance, and that’s what he wanted right now, no matter how cute the girl’s blushes were, and the flush was spreading down her neck and into her cleavage. Tom was getting hot himself in the bloody penguin suit. “I really think you’d better go inside,” he said gruffly as she tugged the wrap around her shoulders. “Don’t forget what I said about sitting on the left.” Pushing open the heavy oak door, he held out an arm. “After you.” “Thank you.” “No problem.” Tom hesitated for a moment. Should he…shouldn’t he? Hell, why not? He thrust out his hand. “Tom Carew,” he declared. The girl wavered too, before curling her cold fingers around his warm ones. “Keira Grayson,” she murmured, “world’s most embarrassing guest.” “Pleased to meet you, Keira,” he said, standing aside so she could duck into the porch. “And forgive me, but next time, try to be more careful where you mislay your underwear.” As Keira dashed into the church, clutching her handbag as if her pants might try to escape again, Tom allowed himself a wry smile. He hadn’t been able to help notice her rather lovely curves—no, correct that, stunning curves. Nice and generous, just how he liked them. Not that he looked at women these days, unless it was in the professional sense, but there had been something about her, something sassy yet sweet, that had fired his blood and made him want to behave very badly indeed. He took a deep breath before stepping into the porch. Even if he did have a mind to look at a woman unprofessionally, this one was certainly not going to give him a second glance. He knew damn well he’d come across as sarcastic and arrogant, when really he was just amused and intrigued and, let’s be honest

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now, bloody turned on. He just couldn’t stop thinking of how wicked that sliver of Lycra had felt between his fingertips. Or how good the diamante string would look against its owner’s bottom. Down, boy. This is wholly inappropriate. It’s not the time or place and— He felt a sudden stab, an acid jab in his stomach, and took a deep breath. Not now, he pleaded with himself. It’s a happy day, Doctor Carew, let’s keep it that way.

Squashing onto the end of a pew next to her best friend, Su Sharma, Keira glanced down at her shoes. The heels already had grass and mud clinging to them, and she was sure she could feel a blister erupting on her big toe. “Great,” groaned Keira under her breath. A blister was just what you wanted when you’d got a fieldtrip with a class of nine-year-olds on Monday morning. She also felt decidedly underdressed and leaned closer to Su’s ear. “You know, I really wish I’d worn more dress.” “Rubbish, hon. You needed a boost, a touch of glamour…especially after the year you’ve had,” hissed back Su. Keira knew Su meant well, but it was going to take more than a quick haircut and a low-cut dress to haul her fragile self-esteem off the floor. Worse, this was threatening to be one of those “moments”. The ones when she was in serious danger of feeling sorry for herself, which was pathetic. Keira tried never to feel sorry for herself. She’d thought she was strong—she was strong, growing up without a dad, having to support her mum—but when it came to what Alex had done, it had been hard not to crumple into a heap and just howl at times. He’d managed to smash through her defences like a bulldozer, and she wasn’t sure she’d picked up the pieces yet. “Uh-oh, it’s him,” murmured Su. Keira stopped fumbling in her bag for a tissue. “Him who?” “Posh Tom. The guy Carrie was telling us about at the hen party. You must remember.” Looking up, Keira saw a tall, broad-shouldered figure taking his place beside the groom. Thick dark hair crinkled softly at the nape of his neck, his tan contrasting with the stark white of his wing-collar shirt. Even from behind, she recognised him. It was the thong-snatcher. Her heart thumped. “I’d have remembered Carrie mentioning someone like that.” “Maybe you were at the bar or trying to see if hunky Carlos had arrived.” Keira smiled to herself. Carlos, the stripping “fireman” booked for Carrie’s hen night, had warmed everyone up with his routine, especially Carrie. Carlos hadn’t done a lot for Keira. She didn’t go a bundle on fake-tanned blonds with thongs even smaller than hers.

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But as for Tom… She shot a discreet glance in his direction as he tapped the pocket of his jacket and nodded at the groom. Hmm, thought Keira, he was checking if he’d got the wedding rings, by the look of it. One thing was for sure, he definitely wasn’t going to lose anything today. “Quite cute, isn’t he? If you’re available, that is.” Su twisted her engagement ring just to show she wasn’t. “Cute’s not the word I’d have used. If you ask me he’s…he’s a bit”—Keira pretended to study her order of service—“scary’s the word that comes to mind…” “How do you know? You’ve never even met the guy.” Maybe it was better not to tell Su about the thong, she decided, especially not if she wanted to avoid it being used in evidence against her on every girls’ night out for the next twenty years. “I just do. Now, shhh. Carrie’s coming.” As the church organ boomed out, Keira teetered to her feet and risked another glance at Tom. Her look was not quite sneaky enough this time, as he chose the moment to turn round and reach for his service sheet. He glanced at her and nodded politely. It wasn’t exactly a smiley gaze, but it wasn’t unpleasant, either—just intense and unflinching, thought Keira. Either that or he’d forgotten to put in his contacts. He was giving the groom a pat on the back now, in that embarrassed, blokey way men use to show affection that they’d rather die than admit to. The organ was rising to a crescendo as she dug her nails in her palm. She couldn’t help thinking, for a moment, of what might have been. If she could have been that happy with Alex. If he had loved her enough to meet her halfway. If he hadn’t… “Carrie looks amazing,” whispered Su as the bride swept past on her father’s arm. “Yes, she does.” She bit her lip, wincing at the sharp pang. It did the trick. That scary feeling of being full to the brim, of being just on the very edge, had passed, and now all she had to do was get through the ceremony without her mascara running. It was too many hours later at the reception that she finally got to ditch the shoes and scrunch up her toes in the velvety pile of the hotel carpet. What she’d seen of Tom Carew had been at a distance as he organised photographs after the ceremony, made small talk with people he’d never met and gave a speech that had taken her aback by its warmth. One look at Matt’s and Carrie’s beaming faces had told her how much they appreciated it. Keira lifted a hand and waved. Carrie was hobbling over, the train of her wedding gown draped over one arm. Keira hugged her warmly. “Carrie, you look sensational.” “Thanks,” said Carrie, giggling. “You look very nice too. That’s what Matt’s Uncle Lionel says anyway, though I think ‘fit’ was the word he used.” Keira pulled a face. “That’s just what I need—a geriatric stalker. You’ll have to get me his phone number at the rest home. Come on, give us a twirl.”

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“Oh, okay, then. If you absolutely insist.” “I do.” A fortune in silk and beading rustled and sparkled as Carrie spun round. Keira felt a rush of pleasure. No matter what had happened to her, she couldn’t be cynical for long. It just wasn’t her style, and Carrie did look absolutely gorgeous. Gorgeous and happy. She smiled. “It’s a beautiful dress, Mrs. Landor. Shame about the groom.” “Mrs. Landor. Oh gosh, that makes me feel like a Victorian matriarch,” said Carrie, grinning. “As for Matt, someone had to take him on.” She paused for a moment, turning towards the bar. “Oh, but Keira, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Keira glanced over her shoulders and felt her heart drop twenty floors. Bearing down on them were the groom, Matt Landor, and Tom Carew. Worse, Carrie was up to something, and you didn’t have to be a genius to work out what. “Keira. This is Tom. The Honourable Doctor Thomas Edmund Jasper Carew, actually. He and Matt have been working together for Volunteers Abroad, the medical charity.” Surely not… Honourable? A doctor? Keira wanted to curl up and die. She’d dropped her pants in front of a lord. Well, virtually a lord. “Dishonourable, more like.” Matt laughed, slapping Tom on the back. Tom’s mouth twitched in embarrassment. Well, thought Keira, that made two of them. “And this, Tom darling, is Ms. Keira Grayson, a friend from school.” Carrie’s voice was a little too high and excited, which meant she’d spotted a matchmaking opportunity and was going to make the most of it. It hadn’t taken her friend long to turn into Mrs. Bennet Keira felt the blood rushing to her face as Tom offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you. Do I need to curtsey?” His eyes glinted. “Only if you feel the need.” His fingers were every bit as strong as she’d remembered from the churchyard, and in the dim light of the hotel bar, the scars were barely visible unless you were looking for them. Don’t stare, she’d have told her pupils; it’s rude. “Actually, we’ve already met,” he said, gazing down at her with a wicked gleam in his eye. Now why wasn’t there a convenient chasm around when you wanted one? A nice big pit you could disappear into completely. Please don’t tell them about the pants, she pleaded silently. “We bumped into each other before the ceremony.” Her insides began to liquefy. “Keira mislaid something from her bag, and I picked it up.” Was that strangled sound really coming from her?

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“Absolutely.” He looked directly into her eyes as she held her breath. “I found her mobile from the church steps.” The tension ebbed away. Her shoulders slumped. It was all she could do to keep from letting out a cry of relief. Carrie beamed. “Wasn’t that nice of Tom?” “Very…noble,” Keira muttered through gritted teeth, still feeling the warm cradling of his palm around her fingers. “Tom’s a GP at the health centre,” offered Carrie. Keira shot him a hard stare. “Really?” Now just what was an aristocrat doing working in the local NHS clinic? It just didn’t figure. But then, Tom Carew was full of surprises. “So you’re a teacher?” he asked. She just couldn’t resist it. Sorry, but it had to be done. He’d enjoyed himself at her expense once too often today. She raised her glass to him. “Well observed.” He gave a mock bow in return. “A teacher and a comedian. It must be my lucky day.” Carrie gathered up her train. “We must go. My new in-laws await. Don’t forget to ask Tom to tell you about his work in Papua. It’s fascinating.” Carrie offered her cheek to be kissed, and Tom duly obliged, brushing her face with his lips and giving a bone-melting smile. It brought brightness to his eyes, a softening of his expression that made him look… The only way of describing it was “at home”. Yes, that was it. Comfortable, rather than edgy and uptight. “Fancy a pint, mate?” asked Matt. “No, he doesn’t,” said Carrie firmly, laying a hand on her new husband’s arm. “You go ahead,” said Tom. “I’ll join you in a moment.” Keira waved her hand as Carrie dragged Matt off, cringing inside. Why did brides try to fix you up? As if they could somehow inject you with a dose of their happiness and good fortune. Well, fairy tales didn’t happen, especially not to the likes of her, and definitely not with minor aristocracy. She couldn’t help glancing down at her bare toes. What must Tom think of her? No shoes, grubby feet, and he already knew—or thought he knew—what kind of underwear she wore. Well, she thought, two could play at that game, and she’d have bet fifty quid he’d got silk boxers on. They’d be black, of course, and clinging tightly to the contours of his firm backside. Suddenly, the urge to press her legs together was overwhelming. Fire shot through her as the image blew her brain. Tom, slipping his shorts over his thighs, the silk slithering over the powerful muscles she knew lay underneath. “Can I get you some champagne?” he asked.

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“Um. Oh yes. Yes, please.” So he was staying, then. He was probably just being polite. He called to a passing waiter, completely oblivious that he’d turned her mind to mush. “Could we have some champagne, please?” The waiter held out a silver tray. “Of course, sir.” He was offering her a crystal flute, holding it by the stem to keep the wine chilled. “So, you’re working as a GP at the health centre?” she asked, taking the glass carefully from his scarred hands. A cold bead of condensation slid down the stem and onto her fingertips. “That’s right,” said Tom, helping himself to an orange juice. Keira took a gulp of her wine. “Are you staying long in the city?” “Not if I can possibly help it.” She was momentarily floored. She hadn’t expected him to be rude; hadn’t seemed his style. She sipped her drink delicately and tried to keep her voice even, giving him another chance. “Is it that bad being back in London?” “No, it isn’t. Look, I’m sorry. I was rather rude just then.” “Yes, you were. In fact, if you were in my class, I’d really have to send you to the naughty corner,” said Keira in between unwisely large gulps of wine. Tom raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure the naughty corner is politically incorrect these days,” he said. Keira downed another large mouthful. “It is, but I think I could reinstate it, especially for you.” He’d done it again. Made her breasts prickle against the lace of her bra. She couldn’t get the image out of her mind. The one that had Tom stripped naked and standing in front of her desk with a half smile on his lips, waiting for her command… What on earth had they put in this champagne? His expression was deadpan. “Okay. I have apologised, but I can go to the naughty corner if you really want me to.” She shifted uncomfortably, trying not to imagine Tom pinning her to the wall of the stationery cupboard, lifting up her skirt, his hands tugging down her knickers, his mouth settling over her nipples. “That won’t be necessary,” she said, sounding prim as triple X-rated fantasies rampaged through her mind. He was a doctor. She might have known he had an understanding of when people weren’t telling him the truth. His face softened. “I should explain. What I meant to say is, it’s not that I have an allergy to the locals. It’s just that I’m only here for a few months. I’m working a short-term contract at the health centre; then I’m going back to Papua. This situation is merely temporary.” “Oh.” Temporary. Tom had just stood her under the power jet and turned the setting to “icy blast”. She might have known that meeting him was too good to be true. “That will be a loss to your patients.”

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He set his empty glass down on the table. “I’m sure they can’t wait to see the back of me. I don’t think I’m what they were expecting.” The silence was thick, filled only by the sharp scent of Tom’s aftershave and her heart, beating slow and hard. “You made a nice speech,” she said, trying to shift the conversation to more neutral territory. “It was very…sincere.” “Thank you.” “Short too.” “Now you’re teasing me, Ms. Grayson.” His eyes sparkled sexily, making the blood beat in her head. She gulped down another mouthful of fizz, hoping it would stop her feeling all shivery inside. “I’m not teasing you,” she said as bubbles burst on her tongue. “It really was very good. I mean it was witty and funny, but you managed to avoid any jokes about ex-lovers or tales about the groom dropping his trousers on a boozy night out.” “You know,” said Tom, “I don’t actually recall Matt losing his trousers. Then again, there was plenty of stuff I left out. Theft of traffic signs comes to mind, and there was an incident with a sheep… I didn’t think it would go down well with his new in-laws.” “You’re the soul of discretion, then?” “It is rather useful if you’re a doctor. You have to keep a lot of secrets, Keira, be they great big ones or little tiny ones.” She felt her cheeks warming again as he gave her that look that felt like an MRI of her innermost thoughts. “So you’ve been working in the rainforest. Carrie said it was in Papua New Guinea, at the station where Matt used to be a doctor?” “That’s right.” He beckoned to the waiter again and selected an orange juice from the tray. Keira shook her head. No way did she need any more stimulants. “How come you got to do that?” she asked. “Was it an exchange visit?” “Absolutely. It was with a medical charity. They send health professionals to places where they’re most needed.” “Papua sounds incredible. All those mountains, the jungle, the tribal culture.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Most people in the UK have never heard of it.” She laughed at his assumption. “There’s no need to sound quite so surprised. I am a teacher. We’ve been studying Melanesia with the children.” Then he paused and looked hard at her. “Really? And what have you discovered?” “Well—”

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His dark eyes sparkled in the half-light. “I can see I’m going to have to be firm with you, Ms. Grayson, or I’ll never get anything out of you. Come on!” “But…” “No buts. You’re coming with me.” He dumped his glass on a table and grabbed her free hand in his. Not gently, either, but firmly, his hand warm and confident around hers. Her head whirled like disco lights, and her heart thudded out a bass line. All because The Honourable Dr. Tom Carew was dragging her towards a darkened room, her body was zinging like she’d been rubbed down with a hot chili, and she didn’t want to do a damn thing about it.

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Chapter Two

“Tom, hold on a minute!” “Don’t worry,” he said, tugging her to an empty table in a dark corner of the function room. “Contrary to appearances, I really don’t bite.” He let go of her hand and pulled back a chair. “Sit down, please.” She was open-mouthed as he slipped off his morning jacket and hooked it over the back of the chair. Even in the half-light, the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist almost snatched her breath away. His brocade waistcoat hugged his body like a second skin. Why did formal clothes do that for a man? Even Mr. Average could look half decent in a frock coat and cravat. As for a man like Tom, six feet plus of dangerous sensuality… Well, it just shouldn’t be allowed. “Sit down.” “Not until you tell me what you’re doing.” “Please.” She sat. Then watched as he settled his long, lean frame into a seat and leaned back. He looked absolutely, totally, infuriatingly at ease. “Now, Ms. Grayson. I want to know just what you’ve been teaching your students about Papua New Guinea.” “This isn’t fair! You’ve actually lived there.” “Yes, but I want to hear your version of the story.” “It’s not a version. It’s accurate. We only have pictures and DVDs and the Internet, of course. None of us has actually visited the area, but we’ve been using it to help the children learn about geography and art and biology. Exploring different ways of life…” “Fascinating,” he said, leaning on the table and resting his chin on his hand. “Do go on.” “No way. Not if you’re going to be sarcastic again.” “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He bestowed one of his half smiles on her. She wished he wouldn’t. And there was something else. Even though she felt like a pupil being tested on her times table or French verbs, she also felt like—well, like Tom Carew was flirting with her. Which was annoying. And ridiculous.

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And sexy. “Let’s hear it, then, Ms. Grayson. I’m waiting.” He sat back in his chair and folded his arms, eyes glinting in the half-light of the room. Oh, why was he doing this? Suddenly, she knew that whatever she said, however accurate, however confident she sounded, he was going to shoot her down in flames. And right now, she longed to be burned. She held his gaze, daring him to look away. “Papua New Guinea is part of the largest non-continental island in the Pacific. It has more than six hundred islands and is south of the equator.” Keira paused, wondering why the leather seat of her chair had become so warm. “Carry on. Full marks so far.” She moistened her lips. “This is so not fair.” “Just get on with it.” The corners of his mouth twitched encouragingly in a smile. “Just get on with it—please,” he added. “Okay. You asked for it. The capital is called Port Moresby, and the terrain is made up of reef-fringed lowlands and some very big mountains, and there are also some active volcanoes and earthquakes and…” It all came out in a rush, as excitedly and incoherently as any child in her class. This was ridiculous. She was a grown woman. She could silence thirty chattering tongues with one word. Tame aggressive fathers with a single sentence. Yet here she was, dissolving into jelly in front of one man. “Very impressive. I’d say you’d have got ten out of ten for that. Even from my old Latin master. However, aren’t you missing the point somewhat?” “What do you mean?” “Facts are all very well, but they can’t possibly tell the real story, can they? The beauty of the landscape, the wildlife, the people…the sounds, sheer colour of it…” His eyes were drawn to the windows, where the October evening had already turned dark. “The culture is so diverse and rich. Each community has different needs. You can’t generalize. Your children need to really experience what living in Papua is like. Amazing, vibrant, challenging.” Keira sat, transfixed, feeling the warmth in his voice. Tom frowned. “I’m sorry. I must be boring you.” “Oh no.” With a voice like his, he could have made the telephone directory sound like poetry. “No, on the contrary, please go on,” she said. “Don’t stop there. What was it like? Working in such a strange place, so far from home?” “An honour,” he shot back. “Tough and challenging, but a great privilege. To help the people out there. I mean, the contrast with here is incredible, and some of the facilities are rudimentary outside the

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main centres of population. But the people are so generous and courageous. I learned so much from them. Far more than they ever got from me,” he added ruefully. “And you can’t wait to go back.” “Is it that obvious?” “I’m afraid so.” He nodded, and Keira suddenly knew. The realization made her feel cold. It meant that much to him, then, his work, the people. It was an impossible act to compete with, a desire that fierce. For anyone, especially an ordinary teacher from the suburbs. And there was something she wanted to ask, needed the answer to, and she didn’t know why it mattered so much, it just did. “Why did you come back? Why are you here working in a city doctor’s surgery sorting out people’s bunions and colds?” She saw the ironic twist of the mouth, already recognizing the signal when he felt awkward or challenged. “To be fair, most patients present with more serious problems than that.” “I know. That was meant to be a joke.” “Sorry. My sense of humour went into cardiac arrest.” Now she got the full-on smile. The relaxing of the jaw that transformed his whole expression from harsh to almost gentle. She watched as his fingers stroked his glass, wiping away the condensation. What would it be like to be touched by those fingers that had known so much… She tingled all over, from her toes to her breasts, which had suddenly become heavy with desire. Look what he could do to her, this private man she was speaking to so intimately. For she sensed it was intimate, the way he was letting her inside his head. “You asked me why I came back,” he replied. “Simple, really. My two-year posting came to an end, and I wanted to experience another culture. Just as fascinating in its own way, and difficult at times, but not quite the same.” Tom hoped Keira couldn’t see the slight tremor in his hand brought on by his being slightly economical with the truth. But sometimes wasn’t it better to give people half a story? How could he tell a girl he’d only just met the real reason he was back home? How could he confess the truth—that if he had his way, he would be back in the rainforest right now? A sudden thought seized him. That wasn’t true, was it? At this moment, leaving was the last thing on his mind, and that disturbed him more than anything. As he looked down and saw her parted lips and eager eyes, guilt and desire mingled. He shifted in his seat as he felt himself growing hard. Rock hard. My God, she was scrambling his body and his brain. “What I’m really trying to say, Keira, is that you need to tell your class the whole story if you want them to learn about life in the rainforest.” “Actually, you’d do it much better than me. Why don’t you come and talk to the children?”

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Tom felt his stomach clench. Now that was too much to ask. To speak about the place in public, answer questions—even from children—he could not face. Not even for a woman whose mouth he was already dreaming of kissing. His heart thudded against his chest. “Keira, don’t take this the wrong way. I can see you’re a very conscientious teacher, that you care about the children and want them to really enjoy learning about the world. But you must know, I would be completely inept in front of a bunch of schoolchildren.” He saw her, sitting patiently, waiting for him to continue. Just as if he were a pupil struggling to work out the answer to a tricky problem. She was different, this woman. Misguided too, wasting her skills on an irredeemable student like him, one who had made mistakes that could never be put right. Yet he wanted her so much to try, so he tried to explain. “You wouldn’t. Not the way you just told your story to me. You made it seem so very real, so alive. To hear about your adventures would mean so much to them. If they could hear you, experience what you have—” “I’m afraid it’s absolutely out of the question.” “But…” A knot tightened in his stomach. Oh God. Not here. He had to get out. “I’m sorry, Keira, but the answer’s no.” Lights flashed, and a thudding beat heralded the start of the DJ setting up. Soon they wouldn’t be able to hear themselves think, let alone talk. If he didn’t walk away now, he might reveal more than he already had. Sweat was already breaking out on his forehead as he grabbed his jacket and sprang to his feet. “I’ve taken up too much of your time. You must excuse me. It’s been a pleasure meeting you. Good-bye.”

Well, how do you like that? You invite a man to chat to a bunch of Year Fives, and he reacts as if you’ve asked him to have a full body wax. She knew she was trying to make light of his response, but it wasn’t working. Keira couldn’t laugh at Tom Carew. Not in that way. It wasn’t funny, being led up the garden path like that and believing he was interested in her, flirting with her. That there was actually a nice guy underneath that caustic exterior. Her gaze followed him as he made his way out of the room. As his impressive back view disappeared, Su pounced. “Well?” “Well what?” “How was Lord Tom?” “It’s The Honourable Tom.”

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“Whatever. How did it go? Do you have a date at the palace? An invite to Will and Kate’s housewarming party? The number of his valet?” “It was a bit of a let-down.” Su pulled a mock face. “What do you mean?” “He blows hot and cold.” “Mmm… Sounds great.” “Not in a good way.” Keira gave a sigh. “Look, can we go into the lounge and try and get a coffee? The dancing’s about to start, and I don’t think I can stand the conga right at this moment.”

Tom sucked in a long, slow breath and leaned against a stone statue. This damn thing he was wrestling with had got the better of him again. He’d had to get away, just had to. Ahead of him, across the moonlit gardens, the windows of the function room glowed red and green and purple. His breath emerged in clouds of mist as he tried to focus on exhaling slowly. He shivered as the sweat trickling down the small of his back cooled and evaporated. He blinked at the dial of his watch. He really could have done with more sleep, but it had been another one of those nights. For the third time in as many weeks, he’d been jolted awake in the small hours with a suddenness that left his heart pounding, and he’d struggled to work out where he was. The sweat glazing his chest told him he was back in the rainforest village, but as his heart had begun to slow, as he’d felt the chilly night air licking his body, he’d realised the truth. He’d risen from his bed on shaky legs and wrenched open the sash window of the bedroom. A fox sniffed the air beneath the old yew tree. Mist was rising from the leaves on the manicured lawns. Then he’d known exactly where he was. Back home. He glanced up at the hotel again and heard shrieks of laughter above the pounding bass line. What have you turned into, Tom? What kind of man refused an invitation to talk to a group of children? From a lovely girl like Keira too. He hugged his arms to his chest. It was bloody freezing out here, even colder than he’d remembered London could be, yet the warm feeling that eddied through him, taking the edge off the chill, took him by complete surprise. For the first time in many, many months, he realised something. He wasn’t wishing himself back in the tropical heat of the village. He was wishing he had the courage to go inside and tell Keira he would talk to her students. He set off on the gravel path towards the flashing lights. He should get back in there and behave like a gentleman should. No—like a man should. But God knew how he was going to find the nerve to do it.

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Two large and very expensive cappuccinos later, Keira was still reeling from Tom Carew’s good cop, bad cop routine. The way he’d sparked into life when he’d talked about his work, the fire in his voice, had made her ache to know more about him. Those midnight eyes had been lit with distant fire like a shooting star on a clear night. His deep voice had been thick with longing for the place he couldn’t wait to return to. She wondered if he’d ever felt that passionately about a woman, but somehow she doubted it. How could anyone compete with his vocation? Besides, what was the point in wanting to get to know Tom better? She’d touched only one tiny raw nerve, and he’d jumped like he’d been electrocuted. She’d braved the function room again—she couldn’t stay in the lounge forever, and besides, Su had disappeared in search of the hotel’s wedding manager. And now here she was playing wallflower. Leaning back against the oak paneling, rubbing one sore foot against the back of her aching calf. Thank goodness it was nearly time for the bride and groom to leave for their honeymoon. Now there were only the slow dances to endure. She levered herself off the wall and padded over the plush pile and sank down onto a chair. She watched as partners reached for each other, as hands settled on backs and shoulders and heads were laid lovingly on chests or held back, tense, keeping a safe distance. She’d been through all the stages, in the days when she’d danced with Alex, first excitedly, then dutifully, and finally, not at all. “Keira.” Long, strong fingers skated briefly over the bare skin of her shoulders. “Would you like to dance?” The tiny, downy hairs on her arm rose in the wake of that touch as she slowly turned to face Tom. Her nipples responded too, and he couldn’t fail to notice. Even with the benefit of her heels, Tom was head and shoulders taller than her. Now he towered above her. Like her, he’d abandoned some of his clothes. His waistcoat was gone and his cravat abandoned. The top buttons were undone, a sprinkling of dark hair visible in the open V. Thud. “I’m asking you to dance.” Double thud. “I could say it’s absolutely out of the question.” “And I’d deserve it. I think I may have been a bit of a prat back there.” “Again.” How cool she sounded, how sophisticated, but her racing heart told her otherwise. Tom gave a rueful smile that threatened to melt her in a pool of drool. “So this is a peace offering. Will you dance with me?” “I don’t think you really want to do that. It’s probably just guilt.”

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“Guilt is an overrated virtue, believe me,” he replied. “But I’m wearing the hair shirt. Can’t you tell it’s prickling?” “Not enough. It needs to really itch to work properly.” Keira couldn’t believe her daring, baiting someone like Tom Carew. She knew she was playing a dark and sexy game that could only lead to trouble. “You’re going to make it really hurt before you agree to dance with me, aren’t you?” he asked. “Yes. And the punishment is that you come to school and speak to my class.” His eyes gleamed, and for a moment she thought he was going to refuse and leave her. Goose bumps rose on her bare arms. “I’ll consider it. If you agree to a dance.” She took his hands, and his fingers closed around hers, making her hand seem delicate as a child’s. Now they were pressed together in the dark heat of the overcrowded dance floor. Tom’s arms were around her waist pulling her close to him, and his warm breath was whispering against the skin on the back of her neck. Her fingers were trying not to explore the hard muscles in his back through his shirt. He smelled fresh and male, and it was all she could do not to take a deep breath of him. Over his shoulder, she could see gazes fixed on them. “You don’t do this very often, do you, Tom?” she asked, seeing lots of heads turn in her direction as the other guests nudged each other. “Why? Is my dancing that bad?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. “Not at all. It’s very…nice, but you doing it at all seems to have attracted quite a lot of attention.” “Hmm. I thought it might. And you’re right. I don’t dance very often.” “Not even at weddings?” “Especially not at weddings. In fact, I’m usually well out of them by ten—if I can’t get out of attending in the first place. I’m told everyone has a fantastic time after I’ve left.” Her body relaxed as she laughed at his joke, tension starting to ebb away from her legs and shoulders. His hands shifted lower down her back. His fingers were skating over her silky slip of a dress. Any lower and… He wouldn’t do that, would he? Stiff, aloof Tom? He wouldn’t lay those strong aristocratic hands on her bottom like—like many of the couples around them were already doing. She tensed her buttocks as his fingertips rested on the base of her spine. “Did you know Matt before you worked together?” she croaked. “Oh yes, we were at Oxford together.” “Of course. Silly of me.” “Are you all right, Keira? Your voice sounds rather hoarse.” “Does it?” she croaked. “No. It’s just a sore throat. I mean—not that I need medical attention.” “Good, because I’m off duty.”

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His hands slipped lower. Barely a centimetre, but she guessed what he was up to. Checking to see if she’d changed into the thong. His fingers halted at the waistband of her panties and—no, she wasn’t imagining it, they were pressing against the lacy ridge of her underwear, subtly mapping the extent of it. Keira thanked her lucky stars they were low-slung mini-shorts. If all she’d had between the heat of Tom’s palms and her naked skin was the flimsy silk of her dress, she didn’t think she could cope. “Were you at the same college?” she squeaked. “No. We met in the university rowing club.” “Does that mean you were in the Boat Race?” He laughed. “Hell, no. I barely made the reserve boat, let alone the first eight.” “Really?” “Let’s not talk about me. I want to know about you.” Smooth as you like, his hands slipped lower and rested casually on her bottom. Warm and big and… She was screwed up so tight inside, it was almost hurting. “Ohhh.” “Are you quite sure you’re okay?” he enquired mischievously, tilting back his head. “Yes. Oh yes. Quite all right. Fine, in fact. And you don’t want to know about me. It’s all very boring…and…” She clutched his back tighter, feeling the muscles ripple under her fingertips. How much longer could she keep from pressing her aching body against his thighs? “Hmm?” She was raw-voiced as she answered. “You still haven’t agreed to my proposition.” “What proposition was that?” “To talk to the children.” “Ah, that proposition.” “Well?” The last bar of the ballad ended in a flourish. Tom’s hands lingered on her rear for a moment longer than was necessary; then he stood back and gave a little bow as if he were a gentleman in a Regency ballroom. A gentleman. As if. Tom was as red-blooded as any man she’d met, hotter than any she’d ever danced with. She ought to put as much distance between them as possible. Really. He smiled the smile of a man who knew he’d just won a battle. “I’m afraid the price just went up. I’m going to need much more than a dance from you, Miss Grayson.” “Wh-what do you mean, ‘the price has gone up’?” “I want to take you out to dinner.”

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“No, you don’t. You don’t mean that,” she murmured softly as he held out an arm to squire her off the dance floor. Tom frowned. “Strange, but at medical school they didn’t tell me telepathy was one of the human senses. Besides, it’s your duty to say yes. Don’t class 9H…” “It’s 5S.” “Whatever. Don’t they deserve to meet a real-life person from PNG?” “Yes, they do, but I’m not sure it’s worth submitting to blackmail…” “Keira, please, I’m harmless, you can see that. It’s only dinner you’re agreeing to, not a headhunting expedition.” Oh, but he was. She could smell the danger and excitement of Tom Carew, and it was driving her crazy even though she’d known him only a few hours. Someone flicked the lights on, and Keira squinted in the fluorescent glare. Then she saw what she hadn’t noticed before. Behind the confident gaze and half smile, there were tiny lines around his eyes and dark shadows under them. He was weary of something or maybe just bored. Of game-playing, perhaps? Of dancing and flirting? Whatever, he expected an answer. She could try to kid herself she would agree for the children of class 5S, for the education and broadening of their minds, but she knew it wasn’t true. She was doing it because he was six feet two of smouldering sex appeal. Everything about him, from his top-drawer accent to his Second Eight physique, screamed that he was not the man for her, and nothing shouted it louder than his determination to be out of her world as soon as possible. “I’ll be at school on Wednesday at two p.m.,” he said, gesturing to the side of the dance floor. “Hey, I don’t know if I can fix that. It’s Literacy Hour.” “I’m sorry, but it’s my half-day, and even then I might have to cry off.” “If you say you’re coming, you keep your promise. I won’t have my class disappointed.” His forehead creased in a frown; then he nodded. “You’re absolutely right, of course. In that case, I’ll be there. Barring a major emergency, that is.” He squinted at the dial of his watch. “And now I really must go. I have a wedding car to trash. I’ll see you on Wednesday, and then we’ll fix a date for dinner.” “I haven’t said yes to any dinner.” “I’m afraid you have no choice.” She wondered why she was fizzing, why electricity was running through her body. He had started to walk away as she dared to say it: “What can you possibly do to make me, Dr. Carew?” Slowly, he turned round and paused before taking a step towards her. “Well. For a start, I could tell everyone you dropped your knickers in front of me in the churchyard.”

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Chapter Three

Tom cursed as he floored the accelerator on the steep hill that led to Keira’s school on a damp Wednesday afternoon. The ancient four-wheel drive had seen better days twenty years ago. Now, it was a gear-crunching rattletrap that had been rallied all over the Carew estate by him and his brother Charlie before they even had driving licenses. Swearing under his breath, he rumbled into a space marked “Reserved: Mrs. Janine Davies-Hart, Deputy Head Teacher”. He hoped Mrs. Davies-Hart would understand. This was an emergency. Keira was going to go ballistic if he was any later. How they could possibly be interested in some weird doctor ranting on about the other side of the world, he didn’t know. He braced himself for the stab of panic, but thankfully, it didn’t happen. The ratchets of the hand brake groaned as he pulled it on. It was ridiculous. These were primary school children. Nine-year-olds, ten at a push. Except Keira would be watching him and maybe asking him a few questions of her own. Five minutes of standing in the reception area and he already felt like he’d been caught skipping prep by the housemaster. He’d studied the award certificates on the wall while discreetly practicing a few deepbreathing techniques. As usual, they weren’t working. “You’re late.” The sound of her voice made things worse, but he turned round calmly enough. Hell, she was gorgeous when she was fired up. That glow in her soft cheeks, her hair the colour of burnished copper, like the beech leaves that had fallen in his garden. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I had an urgent house call.” “Excuses don’t wash with the children,” she said as they set off down the corridors. “And is that your vehicle I saw in the deputy head’s space? You’re lucky she’s at a conference, or you’d be in trouble.” “Sorry again,” he said with his best little boy expression. By the way she pursed her lips at him, he guessed she’d seen it all before. He didn’t like to tell her that he had been visiting a patient with terminal cancer. That he’d spent the past half-hour administering pain relief and trying to offer what comfort he could to the man’s wife and young family. He could see she was nervous, and this energetic place bursting with people at the beginning of their lives was hardly the time or place to mention it. He inhaled the smell. Hmm. School dinners and floor polish with undertones of canteen chips and lemon disinfectant. It was slightly more appealing than the aroma that had pervaded his public school but

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still familiar enough to bring back memories, not all of them happy ones. The excited shrieks from some of the classrooms were definitely not reminiscent of his own school. Behaviour like that would have been punished by lines and detention, and in his case on several occasions, something rather more painful. “It couldn’t be helped, I’m afraid,” he replied evenly. “And why are we whispering?” “I don’t know!” said Keira, exasperated and, though she hated to admit it to herself, very nervous. She stopped to look at him and instantly regretted it. Tom Carew looked even more gorgeous in his doctor’s “outfit” than his best man’s, she had to acknowledge. It was a mild October day, and he wore no jacket, just a crisp white shirt and dark silk tie. The rush had brought a glow to his cheeks, though he still had the faint shadows beneath his eyes; even with the fading tan, he looked tired. Keira wondered what kept him awake at nights. They passed the nursery class with its bright, splodgy paintings, lovingly displayed. “It’s rather warm in here,” said Tom, loosening his tie. Too right, she thought, feeling the sheen of perspiration on her back. “It’s either freezing or baking,” she said blithely. “Come the first of October, the heating goes on whether it’s twenty degrees or minus two. It’s all centrally controlled by the education authority, you see.” “I know the feeling. No control over the heating in my last job, either.” She shot him a sharp look as he put down his medical bag and began to unbutton his cuffs. “I hope you don’t mind, I had to bring the kit. It’s not a good idea to leave it in the car, and besides, the children might be interested in one or two things.” “Fine.” Except not fine. An annoying tingle had set in as he started rolling up a sleeve to reveal a tanned, strong arm. “Follow me,” she ordered, leading the way to her classroom. She wished her heels wouldn’t click like that. She was already feeling self-conscious, and the noise was just so embarrassing. Stopping outside the classroom door, she risked a glance behind. He was still there and still edible. “Have you any last requests before I throw you to the lion cubs?” “How do you want me to approach this? Are there any no-go areas?” She considered for a moment. “I don’t think so. You’re a doctor. I trust you not to make inappropriate remarks. By the way, if I introduce you as plain Dr. Carew, will that be okay? I’m not sure class 5S will understand the Honourable bit.” He smiled. “Just plain Tom will suffice.” She shook her head. “Much too informal. What about Dr. Tom?” “If you say so, Ms. Grayson.” “Very well. In you go.” My, how confident she sounded…but the truth was, she didn’t know how the kids would react to Tom. He certainly didn’t sound like any of them. In fact, she wondered if some of the more timid pupils would be a bit afraid of him.

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The door creaked open, and twenty expectant faces all turned towards him at once. “Children, here’s our visitor: Dr. Tom.” “Hello, Dr. Tom,” they chorused dutifully, and she thanked her lucky stars for her classroom skills and insistence on manners. “Dr. Tom works at the health centre,” she explained. “But before that, he worked in a village in Papua New Guinea. We looked at it on the Internet last week. Now, can anyone show me where it was on the big map?” Almost twenty hands shot up in unison, and Keira risked a look at Tom. He was sitting on the toosmall chair she had placed in front of the children, long legs stretched out in front of him. He didn’t look scared. He looked at ease—happy, even. “What’s that, Dr. Tom?” Ben Chalmers, the boldest boy in her class, was pointing at Tom’s arm. Keira looked from her pupil’s grubby forefinger to Tom and almost gasped. “It’s a tattoo.” A tattoo? On Tom? He couldn’t be serious. And if he was, what the heck could it possibly say? Queen and country? Lie back and think of England? “Don’t point, Ben, it’s rude,” she murmured. “It’s fine, Ms. Grayson. Actually, tattooing is an important part of life in many parts of Melanesia. It certainly was in the village where I worked, and most of the doctors get one eventually. It’s only fair that the children should know about it.” “Can we have a look?” “Ohhhh, please. Please, Dr. Tom!” “Let me see it!” The voices had grown to a deafening chorus in the classroom. Keira groaned inwardly. Most of the boys were on their feet now, and a few of the bolder girls, all trying to take a closer look at the strange dark markings. She stepped closer on the pretext of marshaling her brood into some kind of order. Oh Lord… He didn’t do things by halves… That truly was a tattoo. Not a tiny bird or a discreet logo, but a full-blooded tribal affair. The dark pattern swirled down his right arm from elbow to wrist. It was in-your-face scary and mysterious…and disgustingly macho. Her breasts prickled as she stared alongside the pupils. Posh Tom had a tattoo to rival any rap star’s, and what’s more, it was turning her on. She needed therapy. “Now please, shhh, give Dr. Tom a chance!” she cried. “I’m sure he doesn’t want to show you his…tattoo. He’s come here to talk about his work.” But Tom rolled his sleeve up farther to give the children a better look. Keira sighed. He’d got their attention, she’d give him that. She just hoped the head teacher didn’t come in.

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The kids were hyper now. “Where did you get it—in the jungle?” piped up Josh Bayley. “In a village in the rainforest. It’s a tribal tattoo.” “Like a battle tattoo!” squealed Ben as Keira cringed. Tom laughed out loud. And how it suited him, she thought, her heart zinging. “In a way, yes.” Ben was transfixed. “So did you have to fight someone to get it?” he whispered. Fighting? Keira hoped not and was about to silence any more questions when Tom answered cheerfully. “No. The village elders—the local leaders—asked me if I wanted this before I left. It was a great honour.” “Did it hurt?” Keira had to stop herself from staring at the little girl touching Tom’s wrist with hesitant fingers. The child hardly ever spoke, and to hear her asking a stranger like Tom a question was, frankly, amazing, but she thought the conversation was heading in a dangerous direction. “Aalia,” murmured Keira, “I don’t think…” “A bit,” said Tom, ignoring Keira and doing his bone-melting thing on the little girl. “A lot, actually.” “Did you cry?” she asked. “Only my big sister had a butterfly done on her leg, and she cried. So did my mum, when she got home.” Keira held her breath as Tom considered his answer. “No…but I felt like it once or twice.” That was it. Keira finally decided the tattoo had received far too much attention from her pupils and from her. The heating in the classroom had got even fiercer. She wanted to take off her jacket, but that would have been giving herself away. “Right!” she called. “That’s enough for now, children. If you’ve all seen…it, let’s ask some other questions.” She narrowed her eyes at Tom, who was gazing back innocently. “What about the animals in Papua?” “Yes! Did you see any giant spiders?” shouted Josh. Tom grinned. “Absolutely. Dozens, in fact, and all as big as dinner plates. When it rains, all the bugs and insects race into the huts.” “Urghhh!” The delighted shrieks said everything, and Keira wanted to hug herself in delight as Tom opened up to the children. Tom’s hour visit seemed to fly by as she sat on a stool and listened to him telling his stories. The kids were giggling one minute and spellbound the next, especially when he got out the photographs he’d brought. They showed him with kids from the village holding his hand, groups of them clustered round him at clinics. Well, he wasn’t quite as inept with them as he’d tried to make out. She smiled to herself. He certainly knew how to get their attention.

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“Are there pirates in Papua?” said Josh. “And treasure like in Pirates of the Caribbean? I’d like to be pirate when I grow up.” Josh again, thought Keira; he was taking over, and it was nearly time for the bell. She had to put a stop to this. A girl with a ponytail laughed out loud. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t be a pirate, Josh Bayley. They’d put you in jail.” “I’d like to be a doctor,” murmured one small boy. One of the girls let out a giggle. “Don’t be silly, Roshan. You’re not clever enough to be a doctor.” Keira opened her mouth to protest, but Tom got there first. “You can be anything you want to be if you try.” “But you’re posh and rich.” “Roshan! That’s rude.” Keira thought this had gone far enough. “It’s okay, Ms. Grayson,” said Tom calmly. “I suppose I am posh.” He smiled at the faces staring back at him. “But some of the best doctors I know are not what you’d call posh. They speak like you and look like you. The only thing you need is to really care about people and work very hard at your science. Do what Keira—Ms. Grayson—says. I know I would if she was my teacher.” Two little girls, more precocious than the rest, burst into giggles. “Thank Dr. Tom for coming,” Keira cut in, blushing. “He has to get back to work at the health centre. I’m sure he has lots of patients waiting for him.” She suddenly pictured herself sitting at the local health centre, leafing through a dog-eared copy of People’s Friend, waiting to be called in to Tom’s consulting room. He cast a quizzical glance in her direction as her face grew hot, and she quickly turned her attention back to the children. “Say good-bye to Dr. Tom,” she called. “Thank you, Dr. Tom,” they replied sing-song fashion, and mercifully, the bell rang for the end of school. “Calm down now!” she called above the scramble for chairs and bags, as much for her own benefit as her students’. Tom waited quietly as the tide of excited children flowed round him and out of the door. Remarkably quickly, there was silence in the empty classroom. “That last remark was verging on the inappropriate,” she scolded as the footsteps retreated down the corridor. He was all innocence as he stood. “I was merely commenting on your teaching skills.” “Well, thank you for entertaining the kids. Shame you had to show them that—that thing.” “By that thing, I presume you mean the tattoo. You’re lucky, Keira. At least I didn’t mention the other one.” “What? You mean you have more on your other arm?”

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“Absolutely,” he said, rolling down his sleeves. “But not by choice. Apparently, I enjoyed this one so much, they decided to reward me with a second. But I didn’t think I should mention it to your class.” “I can’t think why,” she said primly. “You weren’t shy about showing them this one.” He was buttoning his cuffs now. “Ah, but it’s not on my arm, and believe me, it would definitely not be appropriate.” She gulped, her mind working overtime. What did he mean…no… He couldn’t possibly have it there…? “Did the other one hurt too?” she squeaked as warmth spread through her limbs. It couldn’t be possible that he’d had that part of him inked. No, it would have been excruciating, and he certainly wouldn’t mention it in front of the children. A tiny smile creased his mouth. “Let’s just say it made my eyes water.” She gave him a hard stare and saw that his eyes were sparkling above the innocent expression. “You’ve just made that up, haven’t you?” His eyes gleamed. “You’ll just have to trust me, Keira.” Feeling her face heating nicely again, she snatched a pile of workbooks from the desk and held them to her. “Well, I’ve got to tidy up the class before I can go home. But thank you for coming. The children did enjoy hearing about your…experiences. I do appreciate it.” How prim that sounded. But underneath, she felt wicked and wanton and, yes, scared by the feelings Tom was arousing in her. He had been marvelous with the kids, even she had to admit that. He had held their interest and explained things to them without patronising them. “What about our agreement?” he asked as she began to place the exercise books in a wobbly pile on the table. “We had a bargain.” “Did we?” she muttered, crossing the room to pick up a stray book from the floor. “You know very well we did. I’ve kept my part of the bargain, and now it’s your turn. I’ll pick you up on Saturday at seven thirty.” She bent down to retrieve the book. Tom was trying hard not to look at the view, but it was impossible. The fabric of her plain grey trouser suit was stretched taut across the curve of her lovely derriere. His body responded instantly and painfully. As she straightened and turned round, her breasts jiggled gently underneath her sweater. Oh hell. She was aroused; she must be. It wasn’t cold in here, and her nipples were jutting against the soft wool. He tried to douse the fire she was stoking in his loins. Surely he could get into trouble for thinking that kind of thing in a school. Maybe it was illegal. “Oh.” “Oh what?” he echoed, forcing himself to focus on her eyes, the same soft blue as her sweater. “You dropped one of your photographs.”

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Keira was holding a sun-faded print in her hand, examining it. It showed Tom, but a Tom so different she hardly recognised him. He looked younger, more relaxed than she had ever seen him. He was with an older man outside a hut, and they both had their arms around a pretty blond girl, about the same age as herself. They all wore shorts and T-shirts and were pulling silly faces at the camera. “Looks like it wasn’t all work in the jungle,” she said, handing the picture back to him with a smile. As he took it, her eyes were drawn to the tiny scars on his hands again. When she saw his expression, cold fingers skittered down her spine. There was no pleasure at picturing happy memories. A frown was etched on his forehead, and his eyes were clouded with pain. The picture trembled slightly in her hand. “Tom, are you okay?” “Fine, thanks.” He snatched it from her hand, opened his bag and dropped the print inside. “I have to go.” She hadn’t been meant to see that picture. Maybe he hadn’t even meant to bring it. But it looked innocent enough, just three friends enjoying themselves in a strange place. She wanted to ask who they were. His doctor’s bag shut with a click, and when he faced her again, he was the old Tom, smiling and back in control. “Good-bye, then,” she said. “And thank you for visiting us.” He frowned again, but this time she knew he was teasing her. “What are you talking about, Keira?” She jumped. He was doing that thing again—the mind X-ray. “I was just saying thanks for your help. What’s wrong with that?” He rubbed his ear theatrically. “Hmm. Must remember to give myself a hearing check. Did I hear the brush-off there?” Spotting a stray pencil by her desk, she bent to pick it up and hoped the glow in her cheeks would disappear. “I don’t know what you mean. Really.” The pencil was safe, and Tom was still in the middle of the classroom and still dripping sensuality from the top of his dark head to the tips of his toes. He didn’t need a stethoscope to hear her heart going into overdrive. He checked his watch briefly, then said. “Right. Saturday. Seven thirty. Your flat. I’ll drive.” “Now, just hang on a moment! I might be doing something!” He just smiled, grabbed his bag and made his way to the door. “Besides, how do you know where I live?” she called as he walked out into the corridor. “I asked Carrie.” “And she told you?” “Of course. She trusts me.” “But I might not. You’ve got a nerve, Tom Carew. Just who do you think you are?”

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“A presumptuous git,” he shot back. “With a table booked for two at one of the best Italian restaurants in London.”

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Chapter Four

“Then Tom Carew just swanned off out of the classroom, just like that—the arrogant, cheeky bugger!” “Keira. Keep your voice down. Mothers present,” hissed Su as they waited for the coffee to brew in the kitchen. The girls’ respective mothers were sharing chai and wedding stories in the living room at Su’s house. There was no way Keira wanted her mum or Mrs. Sharma to know about Tom, otherwise her mum would have the cake ordered and be wording an announcement for the local newspaper. Angie Grayson had had enough to contend with already. She’d been beside herself with worry when Keira’s relationship with Alex ended so disturbingly. She’d also been battling breast cancer for the past year, and while she was on the road to recovery now, Keira didn’t want her getting all excited about Tom only to be disappointed for her daughter when he went back to Papua. Su lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You have to tell me more, Keira. What’s he really like? You too were pretty close during the dancing. You couldn’t get a playing card between you on that dance floor. Everyone was talking about it afterwards. Tom Carew is a huge catch. Matt and Carrie said absolutely everyone was after him when they were at university, guys as well as girls.” “He’s not gay!” cried Keira. “We could see that. He had his hands on your bum, and he looked like he wanted to rip your clothes off there and then on the dance floor.” Keira’s cheeks heated up and it wasn’t just because Su’s mother had the heating on full. “He obviously didn’t try anything at school because he was on his best behavior, but he was so confident that I’d say yes to going out to dinner with him. He’s quite sarcastic and superior.” Sue laughed. “And gorgeous and rich and interested in you?” “Even if he is interested in me, don’t go choosing a new sari for the wedding. Tom’s made it quite clear that’s he’s only back here in England on sufferance. He’s off back to Papua again in a couple of months. So you see, this date can only be a dinner. Nothing more.” Su raised an eyebrow. “You could try to just enjoy him while he’s here. Who knows, he might change his mind and stay after all, faced with your vivacious personality and many accomplishments.” Keira laughed. “And my five thousand a year and estate in Peckham? Su, he’s no Mr. Darcy, and I’m not going to be swept off my feet and carried off to Pemberley or Carew Towers or whatever stately piles he hangs out in. I barely know him, and I’ve no right to expect anything from him.”

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Su narrowed her eyes. “But you do like him, don’t you, hon? When you talk about him, your eyes light up, just like when you first met Alex, only more.” Keira thought of denying the fact. She’d known Tom, what? A few days. It wasn’t long, but feelings that he had aroused in her, both physical and emotional, made a mockery of their short time together. She knew she could get in really deep with Tom Carew if she let down her guard. Once she’d been out on their dinner date and had kept her side of the bargain, she was going to end their relationship before it began, but she owed it to Su to at least admit to some of her feelings. “I have to admit that, despite overconfidence, he is very nice.” Su snorted. “Very nice! Keira, you make him sound like the old guy on the deli counter at the supermarket.” “What I meant was that he’s sensitive. Underneath the sarcasm, of course.” She laughed. “And to be fair, he was very good with the children, apart from mentioning the tattoo, which was very naughty of him. I’m supposed to set a good example, even if we are meant to encourage diversity.” Oh dear. The thought of checking out Tom’s other tattoos made her feel terribly tingly again. Su plunged the top down on the cafetiere. “Is it really that big, this tattoo?” “Enormous.” She sighed, deciding not to tell Su that Tom had another one on his bottom. Things were tricky enough as it was. “He reckons that all the doctors in the team get one sooner or later. Apparently Matt has them all down his arms and over his back. It’s some sort of badge of honour, I think, but I never expected someone like Tom to be inked like that.” It was difficult to stop her hands from shaking as Keira managed to pour some sugar from a packet into the basin and placed it on the tray. The idea of Tom stripping naked was scrambling her brain. Su laid out some sweet cakes next to the coffee and mugs. Spicy aromas filled the tiny kitchen and made Keira’s nose twitch. “Well, are you ready to discuss sari embroidery?” asked Su, picking up the tray. Keira nodded. “For the next two hours? I can’t wait.” “Me neither.” Keira held open the door to the living room as Su passed through first with the tray. Their mothers glanced up from their pattern books. “By the way, Keira,” said Su innocently. “Have you told your mum you’re having dinner with an earl’s son on Saturday night?”

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Chapter Five

Tom peered up at the windows of the three-storey block where Keira lived, holding his breath, expecting someone to open a window at any moment and tell him to get a quieter car. No blinds twitched, so he jumped down from the Land Rover and strode over to the entrance door. Buzzing the intercom for number five, he crossed his fingers. Now this was odd. It was Saturday evening, and he was outside a girl’s house, waiting to take her on a date. Hell, he hadn’t done such a thing for years. There had been women, of course, in Papua. Most memorably, an Aussie doctor and a French volunteer worker. Both absolutely stunning and both wanted the same as him: good company, lots of fun and some great sex. This was just the same, wasn’t it? “Tom. Is that you?” No, it damn well wasn’t the same, he told himself… He could almost hear the quaver in her voice, even over the dodgy intercom. Years of being a doctor, even a pretty hopeless one, had given him at least some skill at picking up the signals. “Yes, it’s me.” “You’d better come up, then.” Hmm. She was being a bit short with him again: an even surer sign she was nervous. And so, he admitted, was he, because his conscience told him that he should not be doing this. For Keira’s sake and for his, he ought not to be starting anything that could remotely be called a relationship. Not when the morning’s post had brought details of his new tenure in Papua. “Pleased to offer you a permanent position as medical director,” the stiff white letter had said. “We invite you to attend an orientation meeting at our London headquarters on…naming a date barely two months away. He pushed open the door into the foyer and nearly tripped over a pushchair left parked in the hall. Even as he climbed the narrow staircase to the second floor, he knew he shouldn’t be here, starting something he could never finish, but he couldn’t stop himself. Something else kept telling him to seize the day and enjoy her sparky company, her sassy freshness, and perhaps, if he was very lucky, her warm, sweet body. That was the bad part of him. The noble part, the truly honourable part, nagged at him to leave her well alone before either of them got hurt. But the bad part kept getting the upper hand. It kidded him that she wanted a fling, and worse, that he did too.

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And the very bad part of him hoped she wouldn’t want to go out at all.

Wiping her hands on a tea towel, Keira heaved in a breath as she heard Tom’s heavy tread clunking up the uncarpeted stairs. She had no right to be worried. All she had to do was go out, keep her side of their bargain, and then she could tell him she didn’t want to see him again. Too bad she was having great trouble believing that this evening was happening to her at all. While she’d been getting changed—smart jeans, a floaty top borrowed from Su, and her newest boots—she had wondered once or twice if she had signed up for a reality TV show and no one had let her in on the joke. Distinctly average teachers in second-floor flats did not get asked on dinner dates by aristocratic doctors—not even as entertainment by bored and uptight ones. The footsteps stopped outside the door, and she let out her captive breath, then jumped like a scared deer as the door knocker resounded with a sharp rap. She cursed as a clang reverberated round the flat. Her feet, tangled in a flex, had sent a metal lamp crashing into the floor. “Hold on a moment!” Through the wood, Tom’s muffled voice reached her burning ears. “Are you all right in there? What was that noise?” “It’s fine! I just…er…bumped into something. Hold on.” Dumping the lamp on the nearest surface, she flicked her tongue over her strawberry lip gloss, blew a stray wisp of hair out of her eyes and reached for the door knob. “Keira, are you going to let me in or do I have to—” As the door opened, an image exploded in her mind. You know that theory? The one about men looking better in morning suits than anything else? Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. In a pair of battered jeans, a plain white shirt and a tweed jacket like her grandfather used to wear, Tom was mind-blowingly sexy. “Hi there, Keira.” His voice was rough velvet, his lips warm as they met her cheek. The sharp tang of aftershave mingled with fruity lip gloss in her nostrils, and her skin prickled deliciously at the brush of coarse tweed against her arm. Oh Lord, she thought as she mumbled out her “hello” and shut the door with shaky hands. How on earth was she ever going to get through an evening with him?

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“Wouldn’t it have been easier to take the tube to Covent Garden?” she asked later as Tom bumped the car down the ramp of an underground car park in central London. “Sorry?” he called. She was sure he was pretending he couldn’t hear her above the rattle of the diesel Land Rover. He killed the engine, unfolded his long limbs from the driver’s seat and appeared at her door, ready to help her down. She looked around the car park and smiled. Nice. He’d slotted the thing between a Rolls Royce and a Porsche, either of which she guessed he could probably afford. The battered four-wheel drive suited him so much better. They emerged into the bright lights of Drury Lane, weaving in and out of the tourists and theatregoers on their way down Long Acre. Ahead, the piazza outside Covent Garden glowed and buzzed. “Is this okay for you?” he called above the crowds. “Or would you have preferred to go for something more exclusive?” She knew he was testing her, and she was ready. “You mean somewhere like…” She paused, then named a restaurant she’d read about in a Sunday supplement, a ludicrously expensive place that overlooked the Thames and had a waiting list as long as your arm. “I suppose that’s what I meant, yes.” “Tom, this is…” What she wanted to say was, perfect. Wherever it was, she knew, somehow, it would be classy and welcoming. “The best Italian in London will be fine,” she assured him. “I think we both know I don’t do stuffy or chic, and besides, we wouldn’t have got a table at you-know-where.” Not that Tom would have to wait. Somehow she knew he could have got exactly the spot he wanted just by mentioning his name—and somehow she knew he wouldn’t have tried. They walked on as the Victorian ironwork of the old flower market came into view, already sparkling with Christmas lights, even with months to go to the holiday season itself. Around them, the buzz of people talking, laughing, drinking, seemed to seep into her very bones. Going out to dinner with Tom could turn her head if she didn’t know it was a fairy tale. “Flower for your lady, sir?” A woman blocked their path, holding out a red rose. Keira stifled a giggle. She was dressed like Eliza Doolittle in an Edwardian dress, black shawl and straw hat that went beautifully with her purple hair and nose studs. Seeing Tom dallying, she shot him a sharp look. Don’t you dare, it warned. Only she knew the truth. That what it really said was, “Don’t hurt me.” “Perhaps later,” he said. Perhaps never, thought Keira. Cheesy gestures like that weren’t her style, or rather they were for those couples who planned on sticking together slightly longer than the shelf life of a yogurt.

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A gust of wind rippled across the piazza, making her shiver despite her coat. Tom placed a hand on her back to guide her past a bunch of tourists applauding a fire-eater. The lights of the restaurant gleamed in the corner of the old flower market piazza. She hadn’t been there before, of course. Alex thought dining out on any occasion other than a birthday was a waste of money, and lately it had been out of the question cost-wise. Warm air blasted from the door as Tom held it open. “Mmm…” Her sense of smell went into overdrive as a dozen aromas filled her nose. Garlic, herbs, tomato, good coffee… “Smells good, doesn’t it?” “Sure does. I’m hungry.” He smiled. “Then let’s get a table.” Candles flickered on the tables, and the low buzz of conversation was punctuated with laughter from groups of friends partying. The place was packed, yet Tom had somehow managed to get a table in a quiet corner, almost out of sight of the other diners. When she dropped her bag and then knocked a knife off the table, he collected both with quiet efficiency and reassured her it was his fault for being “a clumsy idiot”. For someone used to performing minor surgery in the rainforest, Keira somehow doubted it. Her hands quivered as she handed the menu to the waiter. Tom sat back, looking serious. “What’s up?” “Nothing’s up, but I thought, perhaps, shall we make a pact before we eat?” “What kind of a pact?” “To make this evening a sarcasm-free zone. I won’t make any scathing remarks. You won’t lecture me on my manners.” “That’s not a very good start…” “Mea culpa. I’ll be model student from now on.” The verbal foreplay was starting again. Keira felt the glow between her thighs and wished it would go away. Her jeans were tight. Tom’s were too, and oh, this had to stop. “Tom…” “Hmm,” he echoed, sitting up straight and looking at her with mock seriousness. She hung fire a moment as the waiter brought their drinks. Coke for Tom, wine for her. “We need to—you—need to understand, this is so not a date,” she hissed when he’d finished filling her glass. He set the bottle down on the table. “Two people having dinner together. They’re not related. At least not when I last checked the family tree. If it’s not a date, what is it?”

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“A deal. A bargain. You came to speak to the children. I agreed to a meal, and what’s more, I’m paying. I want to thank you for visiting them.” Now she saw a shadow cross his face. His lips twisted. “As you wish. But I’ll buy the wine.” “If it makes you feel better.” He folded his arms. “Not a lot. But a little.” “Okay. That’s agreed,” said Keira. “Now let’s—” “Your bruschetta, madam. Sir, your carpaccio.” The waiter cut short their sparring. Tom topped up her glass, and she took a sip just for something to do with her shaky hands. She must remember not to go heavy on the wine. She toyed with her starter as he sipped his Coke and took a bite of the wafer-thin beef. His hand brushed hers as he went to top up her glass again. His fingers were warm and strong, and the last time he’d touched her, they’d been cradling her bottom on the dance floor. Her nipples stiffened at the memory, and she looked down to see if they were visible through her borrowed top. Oh bugger. “So—when are you, um, going back to Papua?” she asked. “Soon enough,” he muttered. “A few months.” “For a year, this time.” He covered his mouth and coughed. “No. Not this time.” “Two years, then?” Suddenly her stomach rebelled against the food. She pushed her plate away. Tom smiled, far too broadly. “Let’s not talk shop tonight, shall we?” Well, that was pretty definite. The “back off” signals were reaching her loud and clear. Let’s try neutral: “What do you want to talk about, then?” “I’d like to know about Keira Grayson. What she likes doing when she’s not educating young minds? What books she reads, what trashy films she watches a hundred times over, who she’d like to take to a desert island. Correction, which particular inept but stamina-filled medic she’d like to take…” She couldn’t help but laugh, even though he had a nerve. Even though he kept trying to pour more wine, she laughed. As the waiter placed their main courses on the tablecloth, she realised she was dangerously close to having the best time she’d had since…well, maybe, ever. Tom laughed too, just the way he had in her classroom, with a warmth and depth that suited him even better than his shabby chic jacket and jeans. In fact, she was enjoying herself so much she almost forgot to remind herself that, when the waiter brought the bill and she’d added the total to her expanding overdraft, and when Tom had dropped her back at the flat and waited for her to ask him in for coffee…when all that had happened, she would have to tell him she didn’t want to see him again and she couldn’t bear to get involved with someone who was about to leave the country, maybe not to return for years. But not yet, thank God. They had a whole meal to get through first, a whole evening whose delicious pleasure had little to do with their meal.

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“So, now you know all about Papua, thanks to your pupils,” he said, filling her wineglass. “And it’s your turn for confession. How did you end up at an urban primary educating small people? Or should that be corrupting them by asking me to visit?” She toyed with her fork. “You haven’t corrupted them too much, although the tattoo was a bit of a shock. They haven’t stopped asking me about it since. You know we have a whole wall of tribal art pictures now, thanks to you.” “Glad I’ve inspired something positive. But you’re not answering my question, Miss Grayson. Why did you become a teacher?” “Ha!” She wished she’d stopped him pouring more wine into her glass. “It’s too embarrassing to say. It’s so corny.” “I doubt it. And as for embarrassing, you’re forgetting something. As a doctor, I hear far worse admissions every day of the week. Being a primary school teacher hardly rates as a shocking confession.” “It shows a shocking lack of ambition.” “Utter rubbish!” “Shhh!” hissed Keira, trying to stifle a giggle. “People are staring at us!” They were, but then they had been all evening, especially the women. Keira suspected most of the smartly dressed and immaculately coiffed females were probably wondering why Tom was with the likes of someone like her. They weren’t to know, she reminded herself, that this wasn’t a date but her payment of her side of the bargain. “Sorry, miss. I got rather overexcited. But I really wish you wouldn’t put yourself down. Being a teacher, or rather a good teacher, is a rare gift. In my opinion, that is.” “Being a good one, maybe, but I’m not sure I am—not yet, anyway. Maybe by the time I’ve retired…” “You’re a damn good one, Keira. I could see that from ten minutes with your pupils, let alone an hour. They respect you and they like you and you get the best out of them.” “Well, I suppose, it’s just what I’ve always wanted to do,” she said. “Ever since I was a little girl.” Her eyes lit up at a half-forgotten memory “You know what? Mum used to find me—I couldn’t have been more than five—with my dolls and teddies in a circle, and me telling them all what to do. I’d make little exercise books and put the bad toys in the naughty corner if they didn’t do as they were told.” She couldn’t resist that one, and Tom duly grinned. Hmm… She’d threatened him with that punishment. Then again, it might be fun, just her and Tom, him having to do as he was told. Exactly as he was told. Wearing nothing but his black silk boxers. Or nothing at all. He was watching her, an eyebrow raised inquiringly. She shifted on her seat. “Mum always did say I was a bossy boots.”

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“To be honest, I was just a tiny bit in awe of you myself.” “Now I know you’re talking rubbish. I can’t imagine you being scared of anyone.” “Ah—now that’s just where you’re wrong. We had a particularly terrifying French mistress at school. I was always in trouble with her. She sent me on a five-mile run once just because I slipped a live toad in her briefcase…” They were attracting the attention of the other diners, but she couldn’t help laughing out loud. It was the image of the prim mistress opening her bag in the middle of a vocabulary test. She summoned up her sternest voice. “I’d have sent you on a ten-mile run and called your parents in for a chat too.” “Unfortunately, my parents lived two hundred miles away. It was a boarding school, you see. No parents to call. Not unless you did something really bad. And I have to admit, the cross-country run was awful enough. Mrs. Larchwood had me woken at six a.m., and I had to do it without breakfast. Charlie— my brother—had to beg me some cold toast from the refectory. I was nearly fainting by lunchtime, but I was lucky not to get six of the best on that occasion.” Keira was shocked. “It sounds awful!” “It wasn’t all bad. Not brutal or anything like that, and you’re spot on, it did serve me right. I should never have subjected the toad to an experience like that.” She had to hold her napkin up to her mouth to cover her giggles. “So,” he went on. “Your mother encouraged you to be a teacher, did she?” “Oh yes. She was all for it. She knows how much I like helping the kids to find out new things about their world. And I love giving them the confidence to go for their dreams. Thanks, by the way, for what you said to them about becoming a doctor.” “I had worried it was rather naïve of me, to be honest,” he admitted ruefully. “Not everyone has my…well, let’s just call them advantages in life. So, what do you get up to besides work? Bungee jumping? Sumo wrestling?” he asked. She held her hand over her mouth. He’d got her giggling like one of the girls in Year Five. “A boyfriend?” Oh. Well, that was a cure for the giggles. He was still smiling, but it wasn’t touching his eyes. “That was pretty direct.” “I like to get straight to the point,” he said. She struggled to get her spaghetti onto her fork. “Keira…” The metal slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the table. “Oh blast. Sorry.” Tom’s fingers fluttered over her wrist. “Have I upset you?”

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“No.” “But you don’t want to talk about boyfriends? Allow me,” he said, rescuing the fork from the table and expertly twirling a hank of spaghetti onto it. He leaned closer, his eyes so intensely blue and so full of sensual promise that she wanted to melt. “Open wide.” A wisp of steam rose from the food. Keira parted her lips, anticipating the feel of the slippery pasta on her tongue. Skillfully, Tom slid the laden fork into her waiting mouth. A dozen flavours and textures exploded against her taste buds. “Nice?” “Umm…” A stray strand of spaghetti had escaped the corner of her mouth. Should she suck it in or push? Sucking would involve slurping noises, so she pushed the strand back between her lips with a fingertip. Tom speared a prawn from his risotto and smiled as she chewed while trying not to squirm discreetly against her chair. If he only knew what her pelvic floor muscles were up to at this moment… He pointed to her hand with his knife. “There’s sauce on your finger.” “Oh dear…” She glanced down. A bead of creamy juice had smeared the tip of her nail. “You’re right. I’ll wipe it off…” “I’ll do it.” Gently, slowly, he took her hand in his and lifted. Leaned over the table and…no, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t—ooohhh. Soft, warm lips closed around her index finger and sucked. The pressure surprised her and sent her into a kind of sensual shock. Her body zinged as he tasted her skin. His tongue lingered, circling her finger to lick up every last drop. Her thighs hummed with pleasure as he pulled his mouth away and laid her hand gently on the cloth. She asked herself as his eyes glittered in the candlelight, could a woman melt from lust? He reached for her spoon. “More?” “Um…” Oh bugger, her vocabulary had sunk to Stone Age level tonight. “I’ll assume that’s a yes… I think we’ll try a bit of juice this time.” Pushing her chin forward, Keira opened her lips as he held out the spoon. Hard metal gave way to velvet richness as the creamy liquid slid onto her tongue, filling her mouth with juice. Tom’s voice, deep and sexy, rumbled out one word. “Swallow.” Her thighs were glued together as the sauce trickled down her throat. She thanked the stars for a private table as Tom shot fire through her loins without even touching her.

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“Do you think you’ll be able to manage a dessert?” he asked as she lapped a bead of sauce from her lips. “Only I hear they do an amazing tiramisu.” Her throat was tight as she answered. “Tom, right at this moment, I don’t know if I can manage another mouthful.” Scooping up a forkful of risotto, he smiled. “We’ll see, shall we?” No dessert, vowed Keira. Absolutely no chocolate, cream or alcohol of any kind. She’d given up on the pasta before he’d cleared his plate. He tried to top up her glass again too, but this time, she flattened a hand over it. “No thanks,” she said firmly, trying to get a grip. The waiter took the plates away, and she gulped down a glass of mineral water. Time to be serious. Anything to distract him from any more food foreplay. He would seduce her without even taking a stitch off if she wasn’t careful. “Tom…” “Um?” he asked innocently. “It’s your turn to confess now.” Sitting back, he folded his arms across his chest and let a frown crease his brow. “Now this sounds serious.” “Why did an earl’s son become a doctor?” The embarrassed silence and more attempts to refill her glass told her all she needed to know. “Tom?” He exhaled hard as if he was about to deal with a really difficult case. Then a smile quirked his lips. “Exactly the same reason as you. Wanted to ever since I can remember. And you know, I used to practise too. On other kids, though, not my toys…” “You are joking!” “Yes, but I had you going there for a moment, didn’t I?” “You are impossible!” she hissed, smacking him lightly on the hand. “I’ll be impossible again, if you keep that up.” “Don’t try and distract me. I’m not fooled. The kids do it when they don’t want to tell me stuff. Tell me what it was like out there—working in the rainforest? I mean, I can’t imagine.” “It’s such a huge country, you really can’t generalize. There are medical facilities in the main centres and absolutely non-existent in the isolated areas, and you can’t get to those except by plane. In our village, we’re lucky. We have a base where we hold clinics, and we run medic training courses in the town so the people can develop their own medical service. I’m surprised you haven’t heard more about it from Carrie.” “She’s talked about it a little, but the past few months all I’ve heard about is the wedding. She and Matt are besotted.” “I can see that. They’re well suited.” The waiter came with their coffee, and Tom paused.

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“Please tell me more about your work. I’d rather hear it from you,” said Keira, desperate to find out more about a life so far from hers. “I think I’ve probably said enough already. Surgical procedures, however minor, are hardly a fit topic for a dinner date. Good espresso, by the way.” “It’s not a date,” said Keira, laughing as he held his cup under her nose. “It’s a bargain, and I’m not squeamish.” This was a lie, actually. She had almost fainted when she’d taken her mum for her breast cancer biopsy. Even the smell of the hospital had made her feel light-headed. Tom caught the waiter’s attention. “Believe me, you do not want to know more. Squeamish or not.” “What about your friends, then?” she asked, unwrapping an almond biscuit. “The ones I saw in the picture.” “That was just a bit of fun. It was a long time ago.” If she wanted to see his reaction, she didn’t get one, and that said everything. He simply smiled and signaled to the waiter. “Would you like the bill, sir?” “Yes, please.” Keira shook her head. “No, let me.” “I’ll get it. In fact, I’ll come to the bar and pay it with my card.” “But we agreed to go halves!” It was too late, as Tom was on his feet, following the waiter to the till at the bar. Well, of all the nerve. He was so high-handed, and she realised he’d managed to avoid talking about the people in the picture again. Neat. Fumbling in her purse for some cash, she made a quick estimate of how much they’d spent. Tom returned with her coat to find her holding out some notes. “Don’t go there, please,” he said politely. “You’re a sexist pig. You know that, don’t you?” “You’re probably right. And there’s worse.” Keira pursed her lips. “What could be worse?” “I’m an unrepentant sexist pig, and besides, I don’t get the chance to do this very often.” “What? Be a sexist pig?” “Take someone out to dinner.” She stuffed the cash back in her bag. She wished he wouldn’t do that…make her feel like, well, that he really liked her company, saw her as more than an amusing sexual diversion. Which was ridiculous, of course. This was just a one-off. He was brilliant, rich and gorgeous and, above all that, could be leaving the country in a matter of weeks. Put like that, she should be laughing out loud in derision. As he held her coat, she realised the bubble had burst. Why had Tom ever come into her life and made her feel like this? “May I?”

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“Why, do you want to borrow it?” “Touché,” he acknowledged, but he still held her coat. She cursed herself for her sharp tongue and for the annoying tingle of pleasure that shot though her body as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. What’s more, he held out his arm for her as they stepped into the crisp night air. What’s more, she took it. Just as a favour, out of pure politeness, she told herself, as she let Tom guide her in the direction of the car park. The piazza was still heaving with people. The fire-eater was still on his unicycle, breathing flames above the heads of the crowd. The smell of a dozen different foods, spicy and sweet, exotic and familiar, mingled in the crisp air and filled her nose with pleasure. She licked her lips, tasting almonds and coffee. Did Tom taste of that too? A shiver ran through her. “Cold?” She shook her head. Not cold but hot. Hot as if the fire-eater had caught her naked skin with a lick of flame. Hotter now that Tom had pulled her arm tighter into his. How right it felt. For a little while, why shouldn’t she pretend it could last more than a night? “Excuse me a moment.” Oh. He’d let her arm go and melted into the crowd somewhere. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a near-naked guy painted silver from head to toe. He looked like a Greek statue…and he must be absolutely freezing. She dropped some coins in his hat, and he winked at her. “Here you go, miss.” She turned to find Tom holding out one of the cellophane-wrapped roses from the purple-haired flower seller. Damn it, it was such a corny thing to do—so why did her heart start beating like she was on the unicycle? “Your Cockney accent is terrible. You know that.” He thumbed his forehead. “Sorry, miss.” “Tom! Stop it…” The rose smelled of… She kidded herself it had a deep, lingering perfume. In reality, it didn’t smell of much at all, just tickled her nose as she sniffed the velvet petals. Alex had once told her that all trace of scent was bred out of flowers these days. Made them last longer, he said. She didn’t care what Alex had said. She cared what Tom had done. “Thank you.” “It’s a pleasure.” As he smiled back at her with sparkling eyes, he made her feel that it really was. Now his strong arm was around her back, tucking her against him again. For a few minutes as they walked to the car, she let herself believe there was only the two of them. Just her and Tom, strolling through thousands of people in the heart of this big city. For those few precious minutes, she let herself savour the warm tide of pleasure and security that washed over her. It had been a long time since she’d felt

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like that; certainly those last few months with Alex had held the opposite of security. She’d spent most of the time strung as tight as a guitar string and walking a tightrope. He’d only hit her once. Once should have been enough, but she’d done what she’d sworn she’d never do with any man: given him a second chance. Alex was different, she’d told herself like a fool. He’d lashed out when he was tired and worried about work, and afterwards he’d been so contrite. They’d been together for a year then, so she’d reasoned that surely the relationship had been worth a second chance? As it turned out, it hadn’t. “Okay?” Tom was watching her, the door to the Land Rover open. Her attention snapped back to him. She felt a tiny pain in her fingertip and realised one of the thorns from the rose stem had pierced the cellophane wrapper and pricked her finger. Tom smiled, clearly oblivious to it. “Shall we go? Your carriage awaits.”

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Chapter Six

Keira sucked the droplet of blood from her finger as the streets whizzed by, the brightly lit shops of the city turning into suburbs, endless ribbons of identical houses, traffic roundabouts and retail parks. Tom wasn’t Alex, and anyway, even if he was, it wasn’t relevant, because tonight was a one-off. She glanced at her watch. “Tom! Wait a minute, I thought you were taking me back home.” “I thought you were coming over to the Lodge for coffee? We’re only ten minutes away now. You didn’t say anything, so I just assumed it was okay.” She couldn’t let this go on. Getting any closer to him would be pushing her own self-destruct button. “Please stop. I need to tell you something.” He pressed down the accelerator. “Soon be there,” he called. “I’ll tell you more about the rainforest, and you can tell me more about the classroom jungle.” She was thrown back in her seat. All her words about asking to be taken home, about things not being a good idea, had stuck to her sand-dry mouth. “Are you all right?” he called as the streetlights ended. “Soon be at the estate now.” She could hardly hear him. “The estate?” “Well, the Lodge. My brother lives at the hall. He is the main man, after all.” “By which you mean the earl?” Tom laughed. “Yes, although he hates people reminding him. Actually, he only uses a small suite of rooms at the hall. The rest is used for educational tours, conferences and weddings. You know, the usual kind of thing.” “Oh, of course. My flat is always in demand for social functions too. And the plumbing deserves listed status.” He winced. “Ouch. I deserved that. I suppose I still make assumptions when I should know very much better.” “Is your brother married?” she asked, hardly caring what the answer was. “No, Charlie isn’t married. Charlie is a great brother and the nicest bloke on the planet.” He paused, concentrating on turning into a narrow lane off the main road. “Charlie is totally besotted with his partner,

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Gareth, and they don’t have any plans to walk down the aisle of Carew Chapel anytime soon. They’re planning a civil partnership, though, so I may yet get to be best man again.” She laughed. “But what about children? Heirs? That’s sad for Charlie, and if he—I mean, it means…” As soon as she’d said it, she wished the words back. If Charlie didn’t have any little Carews, it meant that Tom’s children would inherit the title. “There aren’t going to be any heirs to Carew Hall,” he said. Tom was glad he was driving. Otherwise he’d have stuck the nearest sharp implement he could have found into himself. Why the hell had he said that thing about Charlie… About there being no heirs? He’d said it because it was true. He never intended to get married and have children. He just wished he hadn’t declared it in such a bloody ham-fisted, callous way. Hell, he’d sounded like he was warning her off when he’d only meant to be honest. Instead, he’d made it sound like he thought she was some kind of gold-digger, when it was him that she should be warned about, him that no decent woman should get within a hundred miles of. He ground the gears and put his foot down as the city lights gave way to black fields. He tried again, softening his voice, trying to sound casual. “Charlie lets me have the Lodge while I’m back. He rents it out, usually. The place doesn’t pay for itself you know. It’s a business as much as any other.” Well, that went down like a lead balloon too. She didn’t even reply and was still silent as he hedgehopped the car over the speed ramp at the entrance to the Carew estate. Tom’s stomach lurched. God, you are useless with women, he thought, with your own or anyone else’s. The evening had turned into a disaster, and yet he’d been having the time of his life back there in the restaurant. She really was gorgeous, fresh and funny, and amazingly she seemed to like him too, yes, actually like him, Tom reminded himself, rather than his money or his ludicrous title or even his very unglamorous job. He had been enjoying the fantasy and, he reminded himself, that’s what this evening was, a sweet fantasy. He’d have to be inhuman not to want to take Keira Grayson to bed, and there was more than that. He hadn’t enjoyed himself, hadn’t smiled or laughed so much since… He felt the pang again as he remembered that night. That final night with Sarah and David. Drinking low-al beers, playing poker for pennies, talking about meeting up when they all got home again. He gripped the wheel tighter as his heart rate rocketed. Her voice cut into his thoughts. “Is it far now?” she asked, clutching at the grab handle. “Only we seem to have come miles.” “We’re virtually there,” he said gently. “It’s the mode of transport that makes it seem like the other side of the earth.”

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He waited for the smart reply and got none. She was either feeling sick or nervous or annoyed or all three. Braking hard as he approached the Lodge gates, he heard her little gasp and cursed himself again. The headlights cast their beams on the front of a stone porch, lit by a coach lamp. Suddenly, everything was clear to him: much as he liked Keira, much as he wanted to take her into the Lodge now and make tender, passionate love to her, he mustn’t deceive her. A rattle brought him back to reality. She was struggling with the door handle. As he reached across her body and brushed her breasts with his shoulder, he felt a shiver run through her. He felt suddenly awkward and embarrassed. He really hadn’t meant to touch her. “Allow me…” Her body was stiff with tension as he thrust open the door. “Take care how you get out of this thing. There’s no step left.” He straightened up and caught her staring at him. A smile flickered over her lips, but her breathing sounded slightly raised, and her knuckles were white as she clutched her bag. Was she worried that he wanted to take her to bed? Damn right he wanted to. His heart flipped, and his body responded too. Hell, he had to conquer this. “I can’t stay for long,” she murmured as they stepped into the stone porch of the Lodge. “Only for a quick coffee; then I need to go back. I’ve got piles of marking to do tomorrow.” “Fine.” He smiled. “I’ll run you back, if you can stand it.” “I can and I will.” Keira shivered as her eyes adjusted to the moonlight. Frost sheened the moonlit lawns and gilded the stone tubs framing the porch. Even in the cold and half-light, she thought the Lodge was beautiful. How could anyone want to leave all this? The key scraped in the lock, and the old oak door opened with the obligatory creak. Keira slapped her hands together. A moment later and lamplight spilled out of the open door. “After you. Please.” As she entered the hall, she felt his warm breath on her neck like a sigh. He took her coat and showed her into the front room, or rather the drawing room. That’s what it must be called, because the front rooms she knew didn’t have huge stone fireplaces, chintz chaise longues, antique clocks and paintings of ancestors on the walls. The smell of wood smoke was sweet and tangy from the hearth where a fire burned purple, orange and red. She held out her hands, the heat caressing her palms. “That feels good.” The light from the fire danced in Tom’s eyes. “Glad you approve. I asked Ted to make it up for when I got home.” She noticed he didn’t use “we”, and that pleased her. She didn’t want to be that predictable. “Who’s Ted? Not some secret housemate, is he? Not something you want to tell me.” “He’s one of the people who help us out here.” “You mean servants, don’t you?”

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He dropped the car keys on the mantelpiece with a rattle. “I mean staff, Keira. This place is a business, and like any business, we need skilled people to help us run it.” “Sorry.” “Don’t worry. I feel awkward enough about the whole setup myself, but I can’t wish it away.” “I wouldn’t expect you to.” She sensed gratitude and regret in his expression, but as usual he covered it with a joke at his own expense. “Look, let me get you a hot coffee. You look hypothermic—the heating’s rubbish in the Land Rover.” “All the more excuse to have a fire. It’s a lovely one too—just like my gran used to have.” “Make yourself comfortable by it, then. I won’t be long.” Sinking back into a chintz armchair, she tried to tease life back into her frozen hands while Tom disappeared into the hall. Presumably it led into the kitchen, and in a few minutes, the aroma of coffee began to filter into the sitting room. The gurgle of the coffee machine drifted in too. Her stomach started fluttering again. In a few minutes, she would be alone with Tom. Okay, repeat that: alone with Tom. Pushing herself out of the chair, she crossed to the fireplace and gazed up at a huge painting above the stone mantelpiece. “The ninth Earl of Carew and Lady Helen on their wedding day.” She stared at the couple in the painting. The costumes and the wigs, the formal pose in a pastoral setting… They looked like something from Queen Anne’s time. Not that history was her strongest point, but she got by. The earl looked dark and imperious, the way Tom could, but without his good looks. The young bride, who was barely more than a girl, seemed delicate, nervous and unsure. As well she might be. Once again Keira asked herself what she was doing with Tom Carew. What he was doing with her. No need to ask it, really. Just like his ancestor, Keira guessed he wanted to bed her, and he definitely did not have the next Carew dynasty in mind; he’d made that clear enough in the car. She turned back to the drawing room with its plump cushions and floor-to-ceiling windows. The room was nearly as big as her flat, but somehow it managed to be cosy and welcoming, with its rugs and pictures and soft lighting. The ring of a mobile brought her back to reality. Tom’s cell phone glowed and buzzed on the coffee table. Her hand hovered above it. Should she answer it, take it to him? “It’s okay; I’ve got it.” Tom’s long legs crossed the room in a couple of strides. He grabbed the phone just as the ring tone cut off. “Damn.” Then, “Sorry, it could be a patient.” Scrolling through the call log, he frowned. “No, it’s a colleague.” He smiled at her apologetically. “Look, I have to see what this is about. Would you mind?” “Making the coffee?” She smiled.

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“Yes, please. Kitchen’s through there. Bottom of the hall.” She noticed he waited for her to exit the room before he made his call. She didn’t mind. If it was work, it must be confidential. Maybe he’d have to leave right now. A sharp pang of disappointment stabbed at her as she crossed the hall into the kitchen. Tom’s call was exactly what she wanted, wasn’t it? He’d handed her the perfect reason to make her excuses and escape. At least she was safe in the kitchen. Pausing in the doorway, she looked around. It was huge, all floorto-ceiling cupboards and dressers stocked with china and glassware. An island unit with a granite worktop dominated the centre, stacked with gleaming stainless steel gadgets. Opposite her stood a hulking American fridge. It was in stark contrast to the antique cornicing and doors, but somehow it worked. The muffled timbre of Tom’s voice, deep in conversation, drifted through from the drawing room. On the worktop, a shiny chrome espresso machine chugged away. She cast her eyes around for mugs, but there was no sign of any except for two dirty ones on the worktop. She didn’t like to poke around in someone else’s cupboards, so she carried them over to the old-fashioned Belfast sink. Turning on the brass taps, she began to rinse the mugs. How comforting it felt. Just the sort of thing she did at home, at her mum’s or Su’s neat little house. It was what she did. Little things for people, useful jobs, and it reassured her. One mug was clean and gleaming again as she upended it to drain on the board before picking up the other and letting the water run, as hot as she dared, over her hand and the china. At home, she’d have had the radio on and been singing along very badly to some naff tune… “You don’t have to do that.” She froze, fingers rigid round the mug. Tom’s breath was a sigh again against her nape as her heart pounded, a thick, slow beat that quickened its tempo as he reached in front of her to turn off the stream of water. Her skin prickled at the sight of the thick black whorls stretched across the sinews of his forearm. The noise of the running water stopped. Droplets ran down her hand and dripped off her fingers as he took the china mug from her hand. “Keira.” He swept a hand across her shoulder blades, branding her skin with his fingers. “Leave those for later, please.” Later… Later than what, she wondered, knowing the answer already. Bereft of the mug, her fingers wavered as she twisted to face him, still trapped against the edge of the porcelain sink. He was inches away. She could feel the whisper of his breath on her cheek and smell his tangy scent, a mix of clean shirt and musky arousal. Desire flamed in his dark eyes. Her legs were leaden, and her whole body throbbed with need. “I c-couldn’t find any mugs…”

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“There are clean ones in the china cupboard.” His voice sounded odd, ragged somehow. “I didn’t like to pry.” He laughed softly. “I’ll get them.” She held her breath, waiting for him to move, to free her, yet also hoping, yearning, that he wouldn’t. “Tom?” she whispered as he stayed, motionless, his gaze burning into her. His husky voice liquefied her. “Forget it. Sod the coffee.” Now, everything was hard. The cold porcelain of the sink digging into her spine, the muscles of his back under her clutching hands. And his erection as he thrust himself against her hips. Only his mouth was soft as he lowered his lips onto hers. Liquid heat bloomed between her legs as she felt his tongue searching and probing her teeth, the roof of her mouth, her lips… Suddenly, her arms were around his neck, and she was kissing him back, grinding her hips against his pelvis and begging his tongue to explore every intimate place. And was that her breathing that rasped in her ears? Was that her cry of shock as his hand slid under the flimsy silk of her top? Her hand sliding down between them and cupping the hot swell in his jeans? “Oh God…” He groaned, pushing harder against her cradle of her fingers. “Come on…” If it was a dream, his voice sounded real enough as he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the drawing room. Her legs, already jelly, completely dissolved as she stumbled over the corner of a chair towards the sofa. Sweeping the cushions off the seat, he pulled her down and snatched her breath away with his mouth. His lips were hot against hers, and he cradled her head in his hands, and she became a willing accomplice, because she opened her lips and let him kiss her deeper, more powerfully. He took her lower lip in his and nipped it oh so softly, then ran his tongue over her teeth. She had her hands entwined in his hair now, reaching up as her tongue danced with his inside his mouth. His teeth grazed the flesh of her collarbone in a gesture that shocked and delighted her. Her lips parted in a gasp as he nipped her shoulder lightly and a sharp, tingly pressure shot through her skin. Inside her head, a warning beat along with the blood pounding through her: Oh, Tom, please don’t make me feel this good. “I want you, Keira.” Slipping his hand inside her top, he cradled her swollen breast. Her nipple puckered as he teased it through her bra, begging be released from the restraining lace. “I want to make love to you, right now.” That was real enough, all right, that throaty demand. Her body heard him and responded with an unstoppable rush of desire. She pressed her thighs together hard to try to resist, but she was zinging with need.

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Gently, he tweaked a nipple, and fire pulsed through her bloodstream. She gave up on resistance and yelped in pleasure at the sweet torment he was inflicting. Desire fought a battle with reason. “I want you, Keira.” Desire was winning hands down. “H-here?” His voice was like raw silk. “Oh, yes. Right here and now.” “On the sofa?” “On it and over it.” Over it? Tom lowered her across the sofa until she lay, helpless, across his thighs, her bottom pushing against his erection. As she squirmed, he flicked open the metal button of her jeans, the zip rasping as he guided it down. “Jeans off.” “Oh…” Tom knew he was rushing as he dragged the tight denim down her thighs. Slow down, for God’s sake, he told himself. Even though you want to rip her clothes off. Focus on her pleasure, damn you. But with her tight little bottom squirming in his lap and his loins about to combust, it was nigh on impossible. Dragging in a breath, he willed himself to slow down. As he flattened his palm on her abdomen, he felt the heat rising from her body. He let his hand lie there for a moment, his fingers splayed either side of the hollow of her navel. He couldn’t wait any longer. Shifting then dipping his head, he planted a kiss reverently on the silky panties covering her sex. He wanted to feel her begging for release and to drive her as insane as she was driving him. Her whimper of delight gave him all the answer he needed, and as she parted her legs as far as she could, he drifted the tip of his tongue over her panties. Some part of him—maybe his conscience—knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but somewhere between the car and the kitchen, he’d thrust his conscience in the deepest dungeon he could find. The desire to make love to her ran rampant and unstoppable through him. His fingers slid beneath the lacy top of her knickers, and her wetness felt like honey against his exploring fingers. “Keira, you are amazing.” Tom’s voice sounded far away as the blood beat in Keira’s head and he pulled her panties down over her thighs. She lifted her hips higher, begging to be stripped. Cool air swirled over her legs and buttocks. As she tried to open her legs, the tightness of her jeans shackled her ankles. Keira wanted to explode. He was…kissing and licking her… It felt amazing. Sweet, painful, almost. “Is this okay for you? Is it good…” His voice was muffled, his head poised an inch above her thighs. That dark tone unleashed liquid desire that drenched her. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmured.

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Strong fingers skittered over her nakedness and…oh…he was stroking her clit gently then firmly, on and on and on…stoking a fire that was burning now, setting light to the very core of her. It was so tense, so tight, surely she would implode with the tension. Surely soon she must burst with the sweet pleasure-pain of it. And still his fingers caressed and rubbed against the swollen, tender spot. Only the constraint of her jeans stopped her from spreading her legs wide as he slipped one finger, then two, inside her. No way could she stop herself. It couldn’t be this good, she couldn’t feel this desired, this aroused, this wanted. She heard the little cry in his throat as she started to orgasm. “Tom—please—oh yes, please…” Her muscles began to throb around his fingers. The breath left her body as wave after wave of stinging, silken feeling pulsed through her, and everything was a rush of noise and a dark space, somewhere, nowhere. “Keira.” She lay weak and panting, with the smooth denim of his jeans beneath her nakedness. She kept her eyes closed tightly, trying to put off the moment when she had to open them on the world. Because Tom would be there, dark and gorgeous and expectant, and she wanted him again. Already wanted him again. Inside her, pressing down on her, drugging her in a strong, warm embrace, and that could not be. This had to stop right now, while she had one shred of willpower left. They hadn’t even made love, and he had her at his mercy. And it couldn’t last, he was leaving… “Please don’t do this, Tom. Don’t make me do this.” She groaned, trying to escape. He held her down with a hand on her stomach. “What’s the matter?” he asked with such gentleness that she felt herself begin to dissolve. She struggled to tear herself from his lap, reaching for her panties and jeans. “Don’t make me do this,” she pleaded. Somehow she struggled to her feet and off his lap. She stood out of reach, scrabbling for her knickers, wrenching them up with her jeans, trying to cover herself. As she fumbled with the zip of her trousers, the beat of blood between her legs began to ebb away. “Stop.” Tom took one wrist in his and held it firmly. “No.” “Wait. Let me.” He took the zip between his fingers and pulled it up, then deftly thrust the metal fly button through the buttonhole. “Okay now?” She nodded mutely and allowed him to take her in his arms and hold her. Just hold her for a moment as he stroked her hair. As her ragged breathing eased, strong arms folded more tightly around her.

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His voice was soft, careful, his eyes puzzled. “What should I not make you do, Keira? I didn’t hurt you, did I? God forbid…” “No.” She gulped in a breath. “You didn’t hurt me. It was wonderful.” Oh yes, she wanted him to do that again and again. She wanted a naked Tom above her, the weight of his body on hers, entering her, filling her, taking her to the very limit. But she knew if they made love now, she would never find the strength to leave before she was completely lost to him. If she woke up in his bed tomorrow, she’d wake up every morning until the morning. The one that he said good-bye. “Then what on earth could be wrong?”

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Chapter Seven

Tom lifted his hand to her face and touched her cheek. It felt like a butterfly landing for a moment, and it made the inside of her mouth tingle. “Tell me what’s the matter?” Keira shook her head. Why had she let things get this far? Now he looked hurt and angry, and she didn’t blame him. She’d let him strip her and touch her, greedily snatched mind-shattering pleasure from him, and now she wanted to run away without giving any gift in return. His eyes tormented her. “Don’t you want me?” “Didn’t what just happened tell you how much I want you? Couldn’t you feel how much?” His arms reached out again and dragged her back towards danger. Her whole body quivered at the kiss he dropped so gently on the top of her head and at his hands winnowing her hair. “It was beautiful, Keira, and now I want to do it again. With us both naked in bed.” “This can’t carry on, because…” She hesitated. There was no way she could tell him how strongly she felt. She barely knew him. The truth would open her up too much, exposing the strength of her feelings in a way she hated to do. A shadow crossed his face. “Is there someone else?” he asked carefully. She might have expected that he would ask about other men, but no way was she prepared to elaborate, certainly not drag up the whole miserable saga of Alex again. The last thing she wanted was Tom trying to persuade her to ignore impulses and gut feelings she knew were right. “No,” she said wearily. “No one else.” Her chest was tight with emotion as he stared at her. Doubt flickered across his eyes for an instant before his expression became softer. “There’s not something you want to tell me, is there? Because if there is…anything worrying you about me making love to you. Anything at all, we can talk about it. You know that.” He looked so solemn that in the midst of this excruciating situation, she could almost smile. Tom, the man of the world, the experienced doctor, was embarrassed. “It’s not your first time, is it?” She did laugh now. “At twenty-eight? Oh Tom, you should know better, and besides, couldn’t you tell? I mean, you must have been able to tell.”

Phillipa Ashley

“I don’t make assumptions about things like that. Just because…you don’t have… Well, it doesn’t necessarily mean…” Tom’s voice tailed off as he found himself tongue-tied. He was a doctor, for God’s sake, and he couldn’t bring himself to discuss a basic sexual matter in plain terms. Not with a woman he liked this much, cared about this much, and now he’d embarrassed Keira and himself. “It does mean it in my case,” she said. “I lived with a guy for two years, so draw your own conclusions.” He let go of her hand, and Keira’s heart sank as she saw the knowing half smile on his lips. “Ah. Now I know why you didn’t answer my question about boyfriends.” “It’s not what you think.” “Do you still love him?” She hesitated, not because she had any doubt in her mind about the answer, but because it was the first time she had been forced to say it out loud. Six months had gone by since Alex had left, banging the door behind her, leaving her cheek stinging from the back of his hand and her life in disarray. Yet speaking about it out loud for the first time felt like the door slamming on her world all over again. “No. No, I don’t. He’s a world away. Gone forever.” “But talking about him still hurts?” “Not enough to stop me from…from liking someone else.” “But enough to make you want to avoid more pain?” She had no reply to that question, but Tom saved her by answering it himself. “Why not let it go? Come to bed, spend what time we have together. Let’s take our pleasure while we can.” His voice had a bitter edge, and he gave a rueful smile as he added, “It’s not like you’ll be stuck with me forever, is it?” Tom was so close now, his maleness, the sensuality in his voice, the hunger in his eyes were making her head swim and her resolve melt away. “Give me one good reason why two adults who want to enjoy each other’s company and bodies so much shouldn’t go right ahead and do it?” Keira didn’t feel like smiling back. He just wasn’t giving up, was he? They must breed them tough here. No, there was only one way to deal with Tom’s brutal honesty and that was to give as good as she got. “Because neither of them can make any sort of commitment to each other. Because they’re both headed in entirely different directions. I know you’re not planning to stay here that long, and if you really are going, I don’t think I can just switch on and off like that to suit your plans.” She almost heard the deep breath he took as he tried to steady his voice. “You’re right, of course.” Panic stirred in her stomach as he crossed to the fireplace. For a few moments, he stood with his back to her before taking down an envelope from the mantelpiece and holding it out towards her.

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“You asked me earlier this evening when I was going back to Melanesia. I should have told you then, but I didn’t want to spoil our evening with real life.” He gave a short and bitter laugh. “This is a letter from Volunteers Abroad offering me a permanent position as the chief medical officer in the village where I worked. I’ll be helping to develop a proper health service for local communities. This is my chance, let’s call it my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, to really make a difference to someone.” The envelope trembled slightly in his hand, but his voice was firm. “Keira, this time, I’m not coming back.” Part of her, a small and very stupid part of her, had hoped that Tom might say he would stay, that he’d be back one day. Now he’d laid the brutal facts on the table, and it hurt more than she’d imagined it could. Tom was going away and he was never coming back and she had been a whisper away from falling for him. “You asked me about my work, and you can see that, inept as I am, useless with people, someone out there needs what I have to offer.” “Don’t people here need you?” she asked. As Tom stroked her soft skin, he could feel her pulse beating strong and hard. Luckily, she couldn’t feel his. He hadn’t dreamed saying good-bye could be so painful after such a short acquaintance with a woman. But then, he hadn’t bargained on that woman being Keira. He’d thought, foolishly, that they could both have fun and sex and keep their emotions out of the equation. He’d been wrong. He should have done this before at the restaurant, at the school, no, at the wedding. In fact, he should never have even have asked Carrie to introduce him to Keira. He felt like something that had crawled out of a hole in the ground. “I shouldn’t have asked you back tonight. Fuck, I mean yes, I should have. I wanted to, of course. Not to seduce you.” He raked his hand through his hair, telling himself what an idiot he was. “Well, of course, I wanted to seduce you. Look, I’m not making a very good job of this. The truth is, you drive me absolutely wild, but…” She smiled at him, and he wanted her all over again. “Tom, it’s okay.” “I should have told you about the letter before. I just didn’t want…” His words hung in the air as he struggled to express himself. I just didn’t want the fantasy to end. That’s what he wanted to tell her, but it was impossible. “I just didn’t want to hurt you,” he said. “You haven’t hurt me.” Hadn’t he? He wasn’t sure. He must have hurt her, and oh God, did he want her to be lying or to mean it? If he’d hurt her, he hated himself, and if he hadn’t, it meant she didn’t care. Which was worse? “We’ve both been to blame,” she said in that sensible tone she’d used on him at the school. “Both of us know this can go nowhere. Don’t we?” Did he?

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Phillipa Ashley

As he looked at her cheeks, still flushed, her hair messed up, her brow furrowed, he wondered. For a tiny moment in some deep recess, he actually began to imagine that he could have what he wanted from life. That he knew what he wanted from life. And it wasn’t a life devoted to other people, no matter how needy they were—or how much he needed to make up for what he’d done to two people he’d loved and who had loved him. “Now, I think that it’s late, and I’d better go home.” Her bright and brittle words poured icy water on any fantasies he’d been harbouring. “Of course. If that’s what you want.” “I think it’s best for both of us. Could you fetch my coat, please?” As Tom disappeared into the hall, Keira looked around the room, at the dying embers of the fire and the picture above the fireplace. The envelope was propped up on the mantelpiece, mocking her. Voices drifted in to the drawing room from the hall. Vaguely, she rationalized them. Tom must be on the phone, but she hadn’t heard it ring. Then she realised it was voices plural she could hear. Two men talking, one clearly Tom, the other sounded…also like Tom, but older and more relaxed. “Good evening. It’s Keira, isn’t it?” She looked up, startled. Standing in the frame of the door was Tom—except it wasn’t Tom. Not quite. The man grinning back at her wore a long waxed jacket and had threads of grey in his rakish ponytail. He crossed the room and held out a hand. “You are the famous Keira, aren’t you? My brother’s told me all about you.” Keira stared at the man and caught Tom’s eye. He hovered behind, her coat clutched in his hand. He pulled an apologetic face. “Keira, this is Charlie.” “And you’re just leaving, I see?” Tom held out her coat, annoyance burning in his eyes. She shook Charlie’s outstretched hand and forced a polite smile to her lips. “Yes, unfortunately, I am just going. It’s late, and I’ve got an early start tomorrow. Reports to start, marking to do and all that.” And all that… She laughed at herself. Marking was about as exciting as it was going to get now that she and Tom were breaking up before they’d even started. Tom spoke firmly. “Charlie, we’ll have to go. I need to run Keira back to the city in the Land Rover.” Charlie gave a long, exaggerated sigh. “That old thing? Tom, you really should get a decent car. So, Keira, you’re a teacher.” “That’s right.” Charlie gave a sharp intake of breath. “Very brave. Couldn’t do it myself, but hats off to you. Actually, I must apologise for the bad timing. I didn’t know my brother would be bringing you back here tonight.” Could Charlie guess they’d had a row? Feel the tension in the atmosphere?

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“Neither did I.” Tom’s expression was mutinous. “You do know it’s almost midnight, Charlie?” Charlie patted him on the arm. “I get the hint, but I was on my way home, and I thought I’d drop in on you.” His blue eyes sparkled with irony. “While he’s here, we have to make the most of him, Keira. Don’t we?” Keira managed to keep a straight face. Had Charlie been listening outside the window? No, that wasn’t fair, but he didn’t seem to like Tom’s leaving any more than her. “And now,” said Charlie, “I have to get back home. Shame I’m going to miss out on the pleasure of chatting to you, Keira, but no matter how much Tom may want to keep you to himself, I can’t let you go without issuing an invitation back to Carew Hall. Just in case my little brother is remiss in that respect, of course, although I’m sure he’s already invited you.” Keira’s stomach churned as she picked up her bag, trying to avoid Tom’s face. “That’s very kind of you but I don’t think I can.” “Why don’t you bring your class for a day?” Her class? Oh Lord… “Well…I don’t know. They might be a bit boisterous. I couldn’t answer for the safety of your lovely house.” She pictured Ben and Josh hurtling round the family heirlooms, and shuddered inwardly. “Oh, I wouldn’t inflict anything as boring on kids as my old house,” said Charlie. “Not unless they want to see it, of course. In that case, they’d be very welcome. No, you should bring them to the park farm. There are lots of animals and interesting stuff there and a fantastic adventure playground, if I do say so myself. I must try and get Tom on it someday.” Tom was visibly cringing. “Absolutely not,” he said, sounding so stuffy she wanted to hit him. “Well, I’d have to think about it. It’s so kind of you.” “You name the day, then. Here’s my card—just give me a call.” No way in a million years, she told herself but smiled politely. “I will. Thank you, Charlie. That’s a really nice thought.” “Excellent. Now, I must be off. Good night to you both.” Watching Tom almost shove his brother through the door made Keira want to giggle. Poor Charlie, he had no idea that he’d walked in on a regular soap opera. Except it was really happening, and no one was about to write a happy ending for the script. She sighed as Tom insisted on helping her into her coat. It felt like a duty…a misplaced sense of duty, and she hated it. “Sorry about that,” he said as she pulled away from him to fasten the buttons. “Brothers, who’d have them?” “Me,” she said. “I’m an only child, and you seem like you got a pretty good deal to me.” “Maybe,” he ground out. She clutched her bag. “Tom. He’s a lovely guy. Generous too. Now, please. I’d really like to go.”

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An hour later, they pulled up outside her flat. Tom insisted on getting out, opening the door and handing her down from the car. Kissing her softly on the cheek, he whispered in her ear, “Lukim yu bihain, Keira. It means farewell, where I come from. And take care.” The strange language made her feel uncomfortable and more convinced than ever that they belonged in different worlds. “Same to you,” she whispered, kissing him back even more softly. “Can I see you into the flat? It’s dark.” “Best not. But thanks, Tom. Thanks and good-bye.” That was it. The final word between them. The door of the flat seemed miles away as she walked off as confidently as she could in her heels. She listened for the rattle of the Land Rover’s engine to tell her he was on his way. Her eyes were hot with unshed tears as she reached the door, and her hand shook as she pushed in the key. Still, she hadn’t weakened and turned round, not even as she got inside and flicked the light on. Closing the door behind her, she leant back against the wood before she heard the rumble as the car pulled away. Loud at first, then more distant as it took Tom Carew back to his own world. Two flights of stairs to the top landing had to be climbed before she could let it all out, then get on with her life, not Tom’s, not Alex’s, not anyone else’s. However dull or boring or unadventurous, she was determined to stay in control this time. Her feet ached with relief as she slipped off her shoes and started the climb up the stairs, reminding herself of what could have been. She would have been in Dubai now, if Alex had had his way, the perfect financial director’s wife, hosting dinner parties, charity events and ex-pats’ ladies’ lunches. When she’d refused, Alex had become a different man, one she’d only suspected and feared had existed. Tom Carew hadn’t done anything more than invite her on a casual sexual adventure, but that hadn’t been what she wanted, either. Keira couldn’t understand what he wanted beyond that, but she knew it wasn’t here in the UK or with her. Tom was pledged to a village of people on the other side of the planet, maybe to another woman there. She made it to the landing, and then realized she’d left the rose at Carew Lodge.

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Chapter Eight

Two a.m. The chiming of the mantelpiece clock jolted Tom out of the dream. He woke stiff-limbed on the chaise longue in the drawing room at the Lodge and groaned as he lifted an arm that was numb with pins and needles. Shit. He knew why he was stone cold. His shirt was soaked in sweat. He held out his hand into a shaft of moonlight and saw it trembling. The dream he’d been having, the nightmare memories of those final days of his time in Papua, had all tumbled back again as he’d slept on the sofa after driving Keira home to her flat in the city. As he switched off the table lamp, he felt the stab in his stomach again. Last night had been more painful than he’d thought, for both of them. He drew the curtains. Outside a frost sparkled on the lawns of the Lodge. As he hauled himself upstairs to bed and pulled off his damp shirt, he tried to diagnose the situation. Keira had decided on a short, sharp cure that had ended the fever of their growing feelings before it could take hold. He ought to be grateful to her for saving him; instead, she’d made him want her more than ever.

“It was just a dinner and coffee.” Keira crossed her fingers as Su raised her eyebrows in disbelief. She feigned interest in a coat hanging on the rail of the store. It was way out of her budget, but who cared. The shopping trip had been Su’s idea. “Shall we go and have one now? Just coffee, of course, no strings.” Su’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Maybe those skinny jeans we saw in that boutique will fit my bum. Pull the other one, Keira. The way you’ve been mooning about for the past few weeks, hon, I know you two got up to more than that at his castle.” Keira thrust the coat back on the hanger. It promptly missed and fell with a clatter onto the floor. “It wasn’t a castle. It was a lodge.” Su picked it up and smiled. “Guilty conscience?” Keira gave a grimace. “He came to the school. I went out for a meal. We said good-bye politely, and that was it.” “So why have you agreed to this adventure playground trip?” “For the children, that’s why.”

Phillipa Ashley

It was true, wasn’t it? Since her date with Tom, she’d sworn that wild horses wouldn’t get her within ten miles of the Lodge or the Carew brothers ever again. There was no way she was going to accept Charlie Carew’s invitation, even for the children’s sake, no matter how generous or well meant. Su thought she was completely mad, of course. “You’re a sandwich short of a picnic” were the actual words she’d used when Keira had told her about Charlie’s invitation—and that she was going to turn it down. “Charlie e-mailed me via the school website, and the head was so excited. I was in an impossible position. I had to say yes.” “You could have let the head take the kids.” “I suppose so.” Keira’s cheeks heated up. “He did specifically invite me, though.” “Hmm. So when’s it happening?” asked Su, steering her towards the department store’s beauty salon. “Next Saturday.” “Good decision. Now, if you’re sure you don’t want to get a second mortgage to buy that coat, let’s go and get our nails done. My treat.” She smiled. Su knew her only too well. Far better than she wanted to face up to. “Tom won’t be there, you know. That’s why I finally agreed to take the children. He has a surgery on Saturdays, and even when he gets back, the playground’s miles away from the Lodge. Charlie told me.” “Right,” said Su, pushing open the door of the spa. The sharp tang of nail varnish and lacquer hit her. This place was enough to deplete the entire ozone layer by itself. “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about, have you?”

“Miss, Miss, Miss!” “Yes, Kayleigh?” “I milked a goat! “I know. I saw you.” “I fed a pig. It was enormous like a dinosaur!” “Maybe not quite as big, Roshan, but they are fat.” “I drove a tractor!” Smiling, Keira flopped down on the bench, exhausted, as her pupils swarmed over the adventure playground. It was lunchtime, and they’d had a wonderful morning. Organising the day at short notice had been a logistical nightmare, but once the children had got wind of it, there was no going back. It had been more than worth the effort just to see their faces this morning as they’d explored the farm, eyes like saucers, shouting and shrieking until she thought they might explode with excitement. Thank goodness, some of their parents had been able to come along and help her supervise.

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She took her sandwich out of her bag and bit into it, realizing she was absolutely starving after a morning running around after her class. She stopped midbite. A tall, lean figure climbed deftly over the stile at the edge of the adventure playground on the Carew estate. He wore a running vest and shorts and jogged towards her in an easy fluid movement. There was no mistaking him. In just a few of her racing heartbeats, he was halfway down the field. He looked so fluid and powerful as he ran. Dark and sleek. Already her breasts were responding, and she wanted to cry in frustration at her own weakness. She took another bite of sandwich and forced it down. He was so close now that she could see his calves, their muscled curve spattered with thick, black mud. His breath escaped in little clouds. As he grew nearer still, she noticed his soaking hair and his face glowing with exertion. Sweat trickled down his biceps and thighs. He stopped a few feet from her, hands gripping his thighs, sucking in the air. Keira’s heart banged against her chest. Surely he could hear it, even above the shouts and shrieks of the children? “Hi there,” he gasped. She shoved the cheese sandwich back in her rucksack and chewed the remains furiously. “Hedoo yourselb,” she spluttered, crumbs spraying. “Sorry, I seem to have interrupted your lunch.” She swallowed the last chunk, feeling it stick painfully in her throat. “That’s okay.” “And I really must apologise. I’m a bit of a mess.” Keira wouldn’t have said that, not when his running shorts and vest showed off every inch of his powerful physique, from the broad expanse of his shoulders to the hard length of his legs. His limbs were slick with rain and sweat and splashed with dirt. He was a mess. A glorious, magnificent mess that made her want to clamp her thighs together in desire. “I thought we agreed not to see each other…” she said as another shriek of delight rang out from the playground. “To be fair, I do live here,” he said mildly, then smiled. “And you did choose to accept my brother’s invitation.” “I didn’t think the kids should suffer because of what happened or didn’t happen between us,” she replied, offering the olive branch of a smile. “And you’re right. This is your home. Of course, you have every right to be here. That was rude of me, this time.” “Then we’re even.” Tom smiled. “May I sit down? I’m in a bit of a state, but I could do with a rest.”

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He was lying through his teeth. A sit-down was the last thing he needed. He should really have carried on with his run and kept warm, not stayed to lounge around, getting stiff and chilled. But the chance to speak to Keira again was too tempting, despite all his resolutions over the past few weeks. He settled on the bench beside her, noticing that she’d scooted up to the end, probably to keep a safe distance between them. Wise move, he acknowledged, as the heat from his body rose up as a fine mist. The cold November air had tinged her cheeks with pink. Her swollen lips, reddened by the cold, were slightly parted and, he noted with pleasure, her pupils were dilated. You didn’t need to be a doctor to know what that meant. It was a pity that as well as being aroused, she was also staring at him as if he were an alien from another planet. Yet he didn’t blame her for being wary. As far as he was concerned, he already was on the other side of the planet, and actually would be within a month or so. He’d accepted the medical director post two days before. By now the letter should be on the Chief Officer’s desk in London. Tom knew he should leave Keira well alone. “I’m glad…” he said “It’s kind of…” He laughed. “You first.” She smiled too, her eyes holding a luminosity that lit up her whole face and touched him deep inside. Too deep. He was playing with fire again here, and he ought to run away. “Say what you were going to. Please, Keira.” “I wanted to say that it was really kind of Charlie to ask us, or rather the children, for the day. You know, he met us at the gate and gave all the parents and staff coffee and provided drinks for the kids. He showed us round personally and gave us the run of the park for the whole morning.” “Charlie’s a good bloke, when he doesn’t try to interfere,” Tom said pointedly. Despite their polite banter, Keira knew she was in as much danger from him as ever, and now she really wished he’d go away. Really. Even after five minutes in his company, Tom Carew made her question the decision she’d wrestled with every hour of every day for the past three weeks. With him here now, she seriously wondered why she’d chosen solitude and soggy cheese sandwiches over the chance to be with him, no matter how short the time together might be. The November chill wormed its way through her fleece, and damp seeped from the mossy wooden bench through her denim jeans. She thought of curling up in front of a fire at the Lodge after making love to Tom—of every clichéd moment, in fact, that couples were supposed to cherish when they were together, except the most important one: they weren’t in love. He wasn’t in love, at any rate. Keira knew she was teetering on the very edge, and if Tom stayed any longer and looked at her in that hopeful, self-assured way, she might finally crumble. She tugged the zip of her fleece right up to the neck.

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“Getting cold?” he asked, hugging himself before pushing himself to his feet, wincing. “I ought to be getting back to the Lodge. I need a nice hot shower and something to drink and eat.” He turned his gaze on her. “Morning surgery finished early, so I came straight out for a run.” “I’ve a sandwich left and a drink of water,” said Keira, trying to thrust the thought of Tom naked in a shower to one side. She must be breaking some sort of rule having thoughts like that with the children so near. “I could do with a drink before I set off for the Lodge, but I’d best say no to the sandwich.” She delved in the bottom of her bag, hands shaking, and found the bottle. “Here you are.” So he was going. She ought to feel relief, not disappointment. She handed over her water. Bubbles rose noisily in the plastic bottle as he drank deep, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. When he pulled the bottle from his lips, a thread of water trickled over the stubble on his chin. “Sorry,” he said, handing back the half-empty container. “Running does that to you, I’m afraid.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Makes you very, very thirsty. Hungry too.” “Tired, though, I expect.” “On the contrary, I always feel energized. Ready for anything.” She shifted uncomfortably on the damp bench. “Keep it,” she said, refusing the half-empty bottle in his outstretched hand. “You look like you need it more than me. I mean, I don’t want you to get dehydrated or anything.” He rubbed the back of his hand over his wet mouth in a gesture so unconsciously male, it did strange things to her insides. They were both standing now. “Do you run this way often?” she asked, cringing even as the words left her lips. He lived here, for goodness’ sake. “Not that often, actually,” he said carefully. Dropping the bottle onto the bench, he laid his fingers on her arm. “In fact, I can’t remember ever doing it before. This isn’t a great run, Keira. It’s far too muddy and slippery without spikes. In fact, I didn’t actually plan to come this way. You see, my usual route from the Lodge goes though the glebe meadow, and after all the rain we’ve been having, there’s a good risk it can be flooded.” Keira thought she felt a raindrop splash onto her face. “In fact, it’s flooded today,” he went on. “So the only way back, short of turning halfway across the estate, is to come through the playground.” Her mouth felt dry. Was he really saying he’d deliberately run this way, knowing she would be here? Knowing that he would put temptation in her way? A small glow of delight flickered inside her. Even after she’d rejected him, he wanted to be with her. Yet if she didn’t walk away right now, she was going to be faced with the same decision all over again.

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Leave now or stay with Tom. Make love with Tom and get hurt by Tom, maybe not today, but one day soon. He cut in as she wavered. “What I’m trying to say is, I think I ran this way on purpose, Keira. I didn’t mean to at the start, but I knew you’d be here. I hoped you’d be here. Please, come back to the Lodge with me. For a coffee and to talk. Just don’t walk away this time. Life’s too short, believe me.” Oh sweet heaven, what was she going to do? Once inside the Lodge with Tom, looking like this, sounding so earnest… The cold air nipped her ears; her fingers clutched her rucksack tightly. “I don’t know. I really don’t.” “Dr. Tom!” “Why, Ben, hello there.” Tom smiled at her and turned. Keira let out a sigh of relief. Ben Chalmers was hopping from one foot to the other in excitement, with a group of other daring adventurers from her class. He could hardly contain himself. Tom grinned and held out his hand, and she felt herself defrosting. “My old mate, Ben.” Ben bounced up and down. “Come on the death slide, Dr. Tom!” “Please!” echoed Aalia. “Dr. Tom, show my dad your tattoo. He’s got one of an eagle on his leg.” “I’m sorry,” said Keira in a low voice. “Tell them you have to get back to the Lodge. You’ll catch your death of cold.” Tom frowned at her. “I do the diagnoses, Keira. You do the discipline.” Seeing her gaping mouth and fire in those blue eyes, he felt a spark of hope. “You said yourself, you were getting cold,” she said mutinously. “I’ll live.” “Dr. Tom—pleaassse come on the death slide.” Aalia’s large brown eyes looked up at him pleadingly. Tom melted. “Okay, then. Just one go, mind.”

Sometime later, Tom was unrecognizable. Mud covered his legs, his running vest, his rower’s biceps, and his face was spattered with dirt. Keira’s heart was full. He’d taken the time and trouble to join in with the other families, and his enthusiasm and genuine pleasure were wonderful to see. Why had he been so reluctant to talk to her class in the first place? Perhaps, she thought, he felt safer on his own territory, and maybe he knew there would be no old photographs that might reveal more than he wanted to show. “They’re all just big kids,” said Ben’s mum Debbie, who stood beside her, guarding a pushchair with a sleeping baby in it.

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Keira winced inwardly as Tom struggled to his feet in the slippery mud. “Men act tough, but they’re just overgrown boys at heart,” said Debbie. Keira laughed. “I think you may be right about that, and some are worse than others.” “You mean your Dr. Tom?” asked Debbie innocently. “Well, he seems interested in you, if you don’t mind me saying,” she added, waving at her son to leave Tom alone. Keira tried to keep her voice light. “I agree about the big kid thing, but he’s not my Dr. Tom. He just came to the school to give a talk. He’s been working at a medical centre in the rainforest, and we’ve been studying it with the children.” “I know, our Ben told me about it and about the tattoo. In fact, he didn’t shut up about it all night.” “Oh dear.” Debbie laughed out loud. “It’s fine. He wants to be a doctor now. Or an explorer. If he can’t take to the high seas as a pirate with Josh Bayley, that is.” “I’ll try to encourage the first two,” said Keira with a smile. Debbie gestured wildly at Ben and shouted at him before turning to Keira. “I think it’s time your Dr. Tom had a rest, but if he’s not interested in you, can you tell me just what he’s doing here?” “He lives here,” said Keira, walking towards Tom briskly and telling herself Debbie would just have to be content with that. She looked up at the sky. It was leaden, and raindrops, which had held off until now, were starting to splash down. She clapped her hands. “I think it’s time we were going!” The chorus of moans and groans was predictable, but not too deafening. She could see some of the kids were whacked, and the parents, reluctant to brave the rain, were eager to be getting home. Tom detached himself from a small crowd of children and joined her. She thought he looked tie-me-to-the-bed gorgeous. She shook her head. “You are completely covered in mud. You do know that, don’t you?” He glanced down at his wet running vest. “Hmm. It does rather seem that way.” “It certainly does.” He hugged himself with his arms. “Bloody cold too. And it’s started to rain.” “It has,” said Keira grimly, fighting the inclination to laugh as a raindrop trickled down his face and left a channel of clean skin through the mud. “You know, I could, as you so accurately pointed out awhile back, catch my death of cold if I stay out here much longer.” “I shouldn’t think so,” she said quietly. “Even I know a cold’s a virus. It has nothing at all to do with getting a cold in itself.” “No, but it doesn’t help.” “And that’s your professional opinion, is it?”

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“No. I’m just trying to persuade you to give me a lift home.” “I should say no,” said Keira, feeling like she was teetering on the edge of the cliff. “But I agree, it really is raining quite hard now.” She glanced at the children and their parents, all making a dash for the car park as the raindrops fell harder by the minute. Tom’s face wasn’t muddy anymore. It was wet with dirty water, and her hair was getting soaked. “Well?” “As you’re very, very wet, and as I’m a responsible and generous person…” And as you were so nice to the children, she added mentally. And as you look lethally gorgeous. Keira checked the car park, where the last family was about to drive off home. Her duties for the day were over. “I’ll give you a lift home, Tom.” She grabbed her rucksack, spun on her heel and rushed towards her car, her fleece already soaked through from the deluge. “If you can catch me,” she shouted as her heart rate soared with the effort of running and the thrilling, terrifying anticipation of the leap she’d just taken.

Keira didn’t apologise for making Tom sit on a plastic bag on the passenger seat of her small car, but he couldn’t have cared less. He’d known she would be at the playground, of course. One of the staff had been waiting for him at the Lodge when he’d got back from morning surgery with a message from Charlie to tell him that Keira would be on the estate and when and how to find her. He’d feigned a lack of interest, but he knew damn well his brother wouldn’t be fooled. Tom was also doing a pretty crap job of fooling himself. He’d changed out of his suit and into his running gear faster than Superman and headed out of the door. An hour should do it, he reckoned. An hour cross-country, hard pace all the way, should leave him on his knees and get Keira out of his head once and for all. So why did he take the glebe meadow route, knowing it would be waterlogged and impassable? Knowing that he’d have to take a detour past the playground? He smiled to himself as the car’s suspension objected to the raised speed bumps on the estate. His head thudded against the roof. “Try to keep off the seat back!” she called. “Yes, Miss Grayson,” he replied, making her purse her lips sexily. “Though you’re hardly dry yourself.” “But not covered in mud.” “Mea culpa.” “So you should be. Guilty, I mean,” muttered Keira, slamming on the brakes as she almost overshot the entrance to the Lodge. “We’re here,” said Tom.

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“I know that,” she shot back. She was nervous again, he guessed. She probably wondered if he was about to try to seduce her when they got back to the Lodge. If he cared about her, he would leave her well alone, he told himself. He’d crossed the line by asking for a lift, and no matter how much he wanted her warm body in his arms, he’d decided he mustn’t hurt her. Gravel crunched under the tyres as Keira brought the car to a halt. All she had to do was let him get out, lock the doors and drive off back to her safe, dull and unadventurous life—those were the words Alex had used when she’d refused to leave her job and friends to go to live in Dubai. She pulled on the hand brake and gripped the wheel as raindrops chased each other down the windscreen. She heard Alex’s voice again as she’d stood in the hall of their house, frozen with shock and fear: “Get out!” Her knuckles tightened as she remembered again the night he’d thrown her out into the street. “Get out.” “What?” “Get out of the car, please—now.” Realisation returned. It wasn’t Alex’s shout of rage, but Tom’s quiet and firm voice. His muddy arm reached across her and took the keys from the ignition. Shocked, she saw her knuckles were white against the wheel. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, still reeling from the shocking memories of Alex’s behaviour. “Being a presumptuous bastard again—and looking after you,” Tom said. “I don’t need looking after.” “You’re cold, you’re wet and you’re shivering. Seriously, you need to get warm and dry for a while.” She laughed. “And take my wet clothes off? I’ve heard that one before.” “I won’t deny that would be very nice. But,” he added as he jangled her keys irritatingly, “you can keep them on if you want to, or I’ll loan you some dry stuff.” He opened his door. “Whatever. You’re getting out of this and coming into the Lodge. Now.” She let her fingers relax and drop to her lap. “Has anyone ever told you, you can be really bossy?” “Privilege of rank,” he said, jumping from the car and narrowly avoiding a playful slap. The sweet tang of wood smoke filled Keira’s nose as she stepped into the drawing room. A fire was already blazing in the hearth. She’d left her soaking boots and socks on the mat in the hall, and her feet were bare. The table lamps were on, even in the early afternoon. Behind her, she heard the door click shut. Tom had pulled off his running shoes and socks. He stood, barefoot in the doorway, eyes smiling as she dithered in the middle of the hall.

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“Go and sit down. I’ll get us a coffee.” “No. I’ll do it,” she said. Last time she’d made the drink, she’d ended up half naked. “Hadn’t you better get changed? You’ve trodden mud into the Axminster.” “You’re probably right.” He glanced down, and Keira pointed to the watery trail that had made its way down his calf muscles and onto the thick pile. In fact, the only parts of him remotely clean were his feet. “The machine’s on the worktop in the kitchen. Make yourself a hot drink and try to keep warm while I shower. I’ll be as quick as I can, then I’ll sort you out.” Sort her out? What did he mean by that? But there was no chance to ask, as he’d already disappeared into the hall. She was still wondering as she heard his heavy tread on the old staircase. The boards creaked above her head as he crossed the landing to his bedroom. Already she could picture him, stripping off his shorts and running vest, and his underwear—if he was wearing any—for his shower. She definitely didn’t want to sit down. Her jeans and fleece were damp, and she didn’t want to leave a wet mark on the chintz sofas, and the fire was so welcoming, burning bright in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls of the room. She stood with her back to it, trying to dry out her jeans. Tendrils of steam rose from the sodden denim, but it was hopeless. She needed a complete change of clothes, and there was only once place they could possibly come from. Though the prospect of being “sorted out” by Tom blew her mind. A hot drink. That was the doctor’s other order. Plus, if possible, a bit of washing up to take her mind off things. No way would he catch her by surprise this time. Padding along the hall into the kitchen, she heard a clunk from the boiler and the distant hiss of water. Tom must be taking a shower. Right now, she imagined him stepping under the stream of hot water ready to soap himself down. Starting to lather his thighs and legs and buttocks and… She grabbed the edge of the sink and told herself to get a grip. After all her struggles over the past few weeks—the sleepless nights, the heart-to-hearts with Su—she really thought she’d managed to put him behind her. Perhaps she should just drive home right now, but she knew Tom deserved more than that. She wasn’t going to run out on him again. If there was any rejecting to do, she’d do it, and she’d do it face-to-face. A smile touched her lips. Or maybe face to chest, in Tom’s case; he was so tall. At the back of the fridge, she found a half-empty packet of coffee. There wasn’t much else in there, she noted with a frown. A bottle of white wine; a carton of full-cream milk and a large slab of fillet steak. She pulled out the salad drawer to find a few leaves. She trotted back to the machine and pushed one of the chrome buttons on the front, waiting for it to gurgle into life. It didn’t behave, so she pushed another. It coughed, then glugged and burbled as it started to do its stuff. The scent of Arabica filled the air.

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Now. Mugs—mugs would be good. She stood on tiptoes and hunted out two clean ones from one of the cupboards, and the image of Tom darted into her mind, or rather the sound and scent of him as he’d made his move that night after their dinner date. She relived in her mind the way he’d taken the china from her hand and led her into the drawing room. Laid her across his thighs and stripped her down to her knickers. Kissed and stroked and licked her most intimate places in a way that no man had ever done as he’d brought her to the hot, throbbing climax. It had been the mind-blowing sex she’d never had, and she’d run away from it and him because she was too afraid of the end result to just enjoy the moment. The hiss of water stopped, and the ceiling creaked above her head. Tom would be stepping out of the shower now. Soon, he’d towel himself dry. The coffee machine was silent, its work done. Oh flip, her hands shook as she poured the scalding liquid into the mugs and splashed in a dash of milk for herself. Tom took his coffee black, he’d said. Bypassing the sitting room, she carried the coffee through to the hall, splish-splashing drips on the lovely carpet. The mugs trembled in her hands as she placed her foot on the first step, trying not to spill any more. Tom needed a hot drink, she told herself. He needed warming up after being out in the cold and rain for such a very long time. And so did she. She couldn’t hold out any longer from Tom Carew, and damn the consequences.

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Chapter Nine

“Tom!” Keira paused on the little half landing and listened for a sound, a clue. Getting none, she called again, louder. “Tom!” She reached the last flight of steps now and halted, ears straining. She couldn’t hear anything, no water or creaking floorboards, so she turned the corner and climbed the last few steps. Her stomach fluttered as her ears caught the noise of drawers opening and closing up above. A lamp clicked on in a room at the far end of the landing, light spilling out from a half-open door. Forcing her leaden legs to move forward, she walked in the direction of the light. She was ready. She couldn’t hold back anymore. If Tom wanted her, he could have her. “A life lived in fear is only half lived”. That’s what Alex had flung at her when she’d said she wasn’t going with him, though Keira doubted he’d meant she should leave him and start a fling with another man. Sometime in the past hour, between the park and the house, she’d made her decision. Maybe it had been as Tom sat beside her on the bench and told her he wasn’t prepared to let her go that easily. Maybe it was when he’d joined in with the children’s games and given himself so generously to them. At some point today, she’d made the choice to leap into the chasm. Forget tomorrow. Or as Tom would say: carpe diem. She stopped outside the door. “Tom… I’ve brought you a coffee.” Her voice sounded weird. She pushed the heavy door with her foot as more liquid slopped onto the carpet. His bedroom was bigger, possibly, than her whole flat, and the ceilings were half as high again. A big sash window faced the door, the heavy brocade curtains held back by tasseled ties, framing the slate sky outside. She stifled a giggle that made the coffee spill. He obviously wasn’t bothered about neighbours. And the bed. The sight of it made her legs almost buckle. It was a great ornate thing, who knew how old. Flanking it were two little tables with lamps sitting on them, each casting a warm pool of light on the heavy damask cover. On the opposite wall stood a vast walnut wardrobe and a gentleman’s chest of drawers, almost as tall as she was. Facing the chest, one hand in an open drawer, was the naked figure of Tom. From his broad shoulders to his endless legs, he was all lean hardness and sinewy muscles. His powerful buttocks were a pale gold against the darker honey of his back. Curling its way across his lower back and bottom was a tattoo. A swirling pattern of whorls and curves that drew her eyes and fixed them on

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its strange, exotic beauty. She gripped the mugs tighter in her hands, ignoring the ache in her fingers. Half the coffee had gone by now, but Keira didn’t care. As he turned around, she had to gulp down a tiny cry. Oh wow, if his rear view was amazing, the front was even better. His solid chest was sprinkled with curly hair, the narrow hips set on long, muscled legs. She wanted him so much, could feel by the way her nipples were already proud and pointing, demanding the touch of his fingers or the soft caress of his mouth. “Keira…what?” Tom was frozen to the spot with shock. A wet, flushed Keira stood in front of him, her hair stuck to her head, her fleece and jeans damp and steaming. Tom’s heart flipped as he saw her fingers gripping a mug in each hand so tightly she might snap the handles off. He felt a rush of protectiveness racing over him. She was in his bedroom gaping at him like he was the first naked man she’d ever seen. It was innocent and yet powerfully erotic. How the hell was he supposed to walk away from this one? He’d been so glad he’d had an excuse to come up here out of the way of temptation. He’d had every intention of showering, getting dressed and then locking himself in the kitchen while she did the same, but now he’d have to be a saint not to want her in his bed. His throat tightened. He was definitely no saint. “Keira.” The mention of her name sent a shiver through her body, and coffee tipped over the edge of the mugs and onto the carpet. It seemed to shake her out of her trance, and she drew in a breath sharply. “I’m so sorry, Tom. I…I’ve brought you a hot drink… Oh, look at the mess I’ve made!” “It’s okay…” he said gently. “Your lovely carpet, it’s all messy. I’ll get a cloth.” “It’s fine. Stop worrying.” “I didn’t know you were getting dressed. I should go.” Tom wasn’t sure whether to believe her or not, and he didn’t care. Did she know she was driving him insane? He took the mugs, one by one, from her hand and put them on the bedside table. He didn’t think he could take this anymore. He raked his hands through his wet hair, battling every impulse to take her. “Keira, go downstairs if you want, walk away if you need to, but please, do it now.” Her face fell. “Do you want me to walk away?” “What do you think? I want you to stay more than anything in the world, but I can’t give you what you deserve. I care about you but…”

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Oh God, he felt a kick in the gut as he said it. Care sounded so lame, so pale a word for what he felt, what he was afraid to admit. What he wanted to say was: my life is mapped out for me and it can’t be changed. I don’t expect you to understand that. Her fingers closed around his outstretched hand, and her eyes burned. “Tom, carpe diem.” He couldn’t fight this anymore. She was like a bright and shining light in a dark world, and he needed her. “Are you absolutely certain that this is what you want? Only please, decide now, because I really can’t play the gentleman much longer.” The raw edge to his voice shocked him. He sounded different, like the man he’d once been, a man who took risks again, risks that led to disaster. “I don’t want you to be a gentleman.” She’d lit the blue touch paper. Heaven help him, he was on his way to perdition. As Tom drew her closer to his warm, hard, damp body, the thrill of danger and excitement made Keira’s head spin. His expression was tender and knowing at the same time, a heady combination that made her almost collapse. “Do you want to drink this coffee now or after I’ve made love to you?” he whispered, his breath fluttering against her ear. “After.” The word was no more than a sigh as she pressed her lips to the damp skin of his bare chest and inhaled his freshly showered scent, all citrus soap and musky maleness. “As you wish, but I’m warning you, it’s going to be some time.” He pulled her against the hardness between his thighs. “You need a cold shower, Tom,” she whispered into his chest. He tilted her chin up to look at him, and she saw him smiling down at her, his eyes sparkling with sensual promise. “No. It’s you that needs a shower.” “Is that your professional opinion?” “Absolutely. The classic treatment for hypothermia.” “I don’t have hypothermia.” He raised his eyebrows. “Keira, are you questioning my professional judgment again?” She shook her head. “I should bloody well hope not.” As he began to undress her, she felt her body growing limp and weak. It felt so good to abandon control for once. A warm tide of pleasure flowed through her veins as he drew her sodden top out of her jeans and stripped the clinging fabric away from her stomach and breasts. The top was over her head in a moment and on the floor, somewhere, she didn’t care where. Strong, capable fingers dealt swiftly with the fastening on her bra and slipped the straps off her shoulders, then

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peeled the clinging cotton from her breasts. He bent his head and touched a nipple with the tip of a pink tongue. Electric pleasure shot through her as his hands gripped her hips and he closed his mouth round the bud to suckle her. Keira tipped her head back, desperate to cry out her pleasure. Her hands were on his back, his gilded skin like hard silk under her eager hands. His tongue rasped around her other nipple. He knelt before her, his tongue tracing a path around her navel, leaving a moist, warm trail of sensation. As he took down her jeans and knickers, she dug her nails into his shoulders and felt like weeping with desire. Standing, he dragged her against his body, still warm and damp from the shower. Her breasts flattened against his hard chest, her legs pressed against his hair-roughened thighs, her eyes sought and devoured the tenderness and desire in his gaze. Then he reached up a hand and skimmed her swollen lips with his thumb, and she melted. Why hadn’t she let herself do this before? Why had she wasted even one precious day, let alone weeks, when she could have tasted the joy of making love to Tom? “You’re cold,” he murmured as a tremor shook her body. “Time for that shower.” As she passed the black square of the window, she saw them both, completely naked, reflected against a stormy sky. In the recesses of her mind, she still knew she’d tried to avoid…this, but it didn’t matter now. Only being taken by him body and soul mattered now. The soft carpet beneath her feet gave way to cool tiles as Tom pushed open the door to the bathroom. A wave of heat hit her, steam hanging like a thick mist in the air. The scent of soap and hot water filled her nostrils as he slid back the door of the cubicle and pulled her in after him, shutting them both inside. His hand closed around the shower control. “Ready?” The whoosh of water took her breath away. Hard spray needled down on her shoulders and head as Tom crushed her mouth in a fierce, greedy kiss. His tongue was inside her mouth and hers in his. His erection throbbed against her stomach, and his fingers clutched her buttocks, slipping on her slick skin. Was this the man she’d met in the churchyard? This man, bruising her mouth with his kisses, holding on to her like a drowning man? If this was being sorted out, he could do it forever… “Turn round!” Shaking water out of his eyes, he called to her above the pounding jet. A cry of shock flew from her mouth as she felt the sudden chill of the tiles against her aching breasts. Her hands struggled for purchase on the smooth and slippery surface. Spray pounded onto her shoulder blades and back. “Tom.” Her voice was muffled by the wall. “I need to get you warm.” Keira’s skin was on fire at the first long stroke of his hand along her back. The tang of citrus soap filled the cubicle. She licked water droplets from her lips, flattened her nipples against the tiles and groaned with pleasure.

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His hands swooped lower, gliding over her spine, the hollow of her back, the cheeks of her bottom, working the soap into a slick foam. Desire racked her body. Her nails scrabbled uselessly against the tiles as his fingers fluttered between her thighs, soaping the wet curls She throbbed as he touched her, and her brain begged…please touch me, please touch me there… “Turn round,” he said. The jet of water blinded her, filling her mouth and making her gasp for air. She ducked to one side as his fingers closed gently around her upper arms. Tom soaped her stomach just as thoroughly as everywhere else, swirling foam into her navel with his finger. She fingered his hair, thinking how slick and black it was. Water plummeted down her neck, the rivulets of foam and water running over and around her breasts, and dripped off her nipples. Tom reached for the shower control and turned it down. The torrent quietened to a stream. “These need special attention,” he husked out as she arched her back, pushing her breasts forward. Her nipples stood to attention as he rubbed them gently with the soap, then dropped a blob of foam on each with his finger. He handed her the soap as water dripped down his face. “Your turn…” Her hands shook as she took the slippery bar and rubbed it tentatively over his chest, where the dark hair was flat around his nipples. She bent her head and flicked her tongue over them, his groan of delight shooting desire through her. She washed his stomach, paying special attention to the ridges of lean, hard muscle. “Oh!” The soap shot out of her hands into the shower tray. Oh damn! She’d not even got to the most important part. Reaching for him with slippery hands, she closed her fingers around him. Could he get any harder, any bigger? He pulsed against her gentle grip and moaned. Oh yes, he could. “That’s it,” he groaned, fumbling for the shower control. “I can’t stand anymore.” The sudden silence filled her head as starkly as the noise. There was only the swish of the cubicle door and the faint drip, drip of the showerhead. Keira couldn’t see much through the fine mist that clouded the bathroom. Tom grabbed her hand and hauled her, trembling with need, into the bedroom. She bumped a shin against the dressing stool as he dragged her towards his bed. The carpet was sodden as she trod in his wet footprints. The cool air after the heat of the shower zinged her dripping skin, and she was shocked, joyous at his response to her. Silk brushed her calves as he swiped stray clothes from the coverlet of his bed. Then she lay pressed against the cover, with the glorious weight of his body on top of her. His kiss now had nothing gentle about it. It was urgent, forceful and demanding. And she was just as greedy to taste him, to have her lips bruised

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by sweetness. Her hair soaked the satin covers, the pillows, everywhere. Water ran off his chest and fell onto her bare breasts. All at once, he knelt above her, dark and powerfully aroused. He spread her thighs apart and dropped his head. As he parted her folds, she stiffened, then arched her back to invite his velvet tongue. Oh and how he tormented her, punishing her with hard, insistent strokes. Moistening the swollen bud of her clit with a gentle lick, then feathering it with a cool breath. “Mmmm…” As he licked, she fisted the silk cover in her hands and moaned. Screwed her eyes tight as the sensation built around the tightening, swollen bud, spreading through her limbs in pulsating waves of pleasure and torment. Her knuckles ached as she bunched the coverlet. The soft tearing of foil made her open her eyes. Tom’s face was suffused with hungry desire, and his hands shook as he ripped open the packet and took out a condom. “I want you so much.” His voice held a tremor as he reached out a hand to tease a wet strand of hair off her face. Keira spread her legs wider. There was no going back now. She heard the sharp intake of breath, heard the savage urgency in his voice. “Touch yourself…touch yourself there…” he panted as he sheathed himself. Arching her back, Keira slipped her fingertips into her heat, feeling how swollen and slick she was from Tom’s stroking. He watched, open-mouthed, chest heaving for a second or two. Then all at once, his glorious weight was on top of her once more, and he eased himself between her thighs and pushed his hard length inside her. “Sweet hell on earth…” he murmured. Keira clutched his back, feeling her orgasm build as he nudged deeper. It was such a tight fit, even though she was slick and dewy. He licked a drop of water from her lips. “Keira…” She clamped her legs around his buttocks and dug her nails into his back. “Like that, is it?” “Hmm.” He thrust into her hard, and she cried out as hot waves engulfed her. Tom, buried deep inside her slick heat, felt her throbbing around him. Was this what it was like to want to possess a woman utterly, totally? To fill her up until she could hardly bear it? To want to be part of her, body and soul? He groaned as his chest tightened, knowing in some small part of his fast-dissolving consciousness, that this was much more than lust or need or want. Then his own climax followed, blowing everything away and sending him into oblivion.

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Hours later, limp and wrecked with lovemaking, and needing another shower, Keira lay, staring at the dark windowpane opposite the bed. Rain was still running down the sash as the wind whipped a twig against the glass. The cotton sheets brushed against her naked skin, and facedown next to her, one arm flung over the pillow, the sheet barely touching his thighs, lay Tom. Still nude, still magnificent and still with the amazing tattoo. And she had slept with him. She wondered at herself, at how she, of all people, who had once been branded dull and timid, had taken such a risk. Making love with him had brought an intense intimacy between them that would, one day soon, have to be paid for. But not yet. Now was the time to share each other’s bodies joyously and without fear. Softly, half afraid, half hoping she’d wake him, she reached out and lightly, so lightly, began to trace a path across the strange design that branded his body. Stirring, he pushed out a long, deep breath. Keira lifted her hand from his skin as he shifted his head to face her. His eyes gleamed with amusement and daring. Keira wanted to blush but realised it was probably way too late for that. The things they had done together—new things—had made her feel bolder, more confident. She thought she’d enjoyed sex before, for a time. And it wasn’t as if Alex had been rough or uncaring, not until that last night. In fact, she had to admit, Tom was much more forceful in the physical sense. The way he’d dragged her from the shower and thrust her onto the bed, ordered her to touch herself… She had never experienced that kind of urgent, demanding passion before. Yet, somehow, Tom’s lovemaking had infinitely more tenderness about it. It held a sweetness and eroticism that had overwhelmed her reason and made her desperate to pleasure him back…and she would. In their brief time together, she would learn how to please him every bit as much as he’d pleased her. She let him pull her to him, his body feeling hard and comforting against her own soft curves. Pushing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes with his thumb, Tom dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. “Much as I’d like to stay here all night, we must live. Are you hungry?” Her stomach rumbled. “I had no lunch, only a bite of cheese sandwich, and I’ve done lots of exercise.” “Let’s go and eat, then. I’m absolutely starving.” “What about my clothes?” “Who needs them?” he asked mischievously, then at her open mouth, added: “I’ll put them in the washer-dryer. They’ll be done by morning.” “You’re being presumptuous again.” “Damn right I am. Now, do you want any food or not?”

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He climbed out of bed and went into the en suite, returning with a navy cotton robe. “Don’t you ever shut your curtains?” asked Keira as he stood next to the bed, clearly reflected in the sash window. “What’s the point? We don’t have any neighbours, and frankly, I’m not ashamed to walk around naked in my own home.” She laughed out loud. “It’s Charlie’s house, remember?” “Whatever,” he said, holding out the robe. “Now, will this cover your modesty, my lady?” She pushed back the sheet and shuffled over the bed. “It’s a bit big, and I hadn’t got you down as a robe man. But then again, I can always be surprised.” With a frown, Tom glanced down at the dark blue material. “It was a Christmas present from my mother.” “That explains a lot.” She laughed, climbing off the bed and allowing him to drape it round her shoulders. Slipping her arms into the sleeves, she found her fingertips barely reached the end. While calflength on a guy of Tom’s stature, it brushed her toes. The sleeves had to be rolled back several times and the belt wrapped around her twice. “Are you going to do the cooking like that?” she asked, staring at his naked body. “Perhaps not.” She watched as he hunted down the battered jeans from the floor and sat on the bed, pulling them over his legs. No boxer shorts were considered necessary, no T-shirt, shoes or socks. “Come on, then,” he said as he saw her studying him. “Before I change my mind about dinner, madam, and have you instead.”

Having settled Keira in front of the banked-up fire with a glass of white wine, Tom bundled her jeans and T-shirt into the washing machine. Her knickers and bra went in too. He knew vaguely that the combination might have contraindications, but frankly, he didn’t care. He was perfectly capable of washing his own clothes, but as for the niceties of laundry, he couldn’t give a toss. Besides, he had other things on his mind, and they were thoughts both disturbing and comforting in equal measure. He set to grilling the steak and unearthing what green things he could find. A couple of baked potatoes and the remains of a pre-packed salad would have to do. He’d refused all offers of help from Keira and had ushered her out of the kitchen once already. He needed time to think, even though he knew it was way too late for caution now. The time for thinking had been this afternoon when he’d run past the playground or accepted a lift home in her car. Part of him told himself he had nothing to reproach himself for. She had come to him. He’d been perfectly honest and open about his intentions, and still, she wanted him. What had he got to feel guilty about?

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A lot, actually… A hell of a lot. He cursed himself as he became aware of the aroma of the broiling steak and whipped the grill pan out. Another minute and they’d have been past their best. They were well done as it was, but they’d have to do. He slid them onto a plate and rescued the potatoes from the microwave. He found a tub of soured cream in the fridge and heaped a blob into each one. Then ground black pepper onto the cream. It was hardly haute cuisine but never mind. He’d had a hell of a lot worse at public school. Dinner was the least of his worries. He hoped Keira would forgive him for everything else. “So, the Honourable Doctor Tom does the washing and cooking,” Keira teased him as she sat on the sofa, trays on their laps. “I do wish you wouldn’t call me that,” he complained, cutting into his steak. “Which bit? Honourable or a doctor?” “Both. And besides, when you’ve lived in the rainforest, Keira, anyone can do anything.” She sipped her white wine. “Maybe,” she said. “Maybe in a practical sense.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Nothing,” she replied, spearing a morsel of steak and popping it in her mouth. “Well?” he asked. The meat almost melted in her mouth. “You can cook a mean steak, I’ll give you that…” she mumbled “But the jury’s out on the rest of me?” “I’m afraid you get a C-minus for laundry. Verging on a detention.” Tom sliced cleanly into his meat and stabbed a piece. He held it poised on his knife and gave her a very knowing look, daring her to carry on with the game. “I’m not sure that kind of talk will really improve my behaviour. In fact, I’m beginning to wonder if I might have ruined all your clothes.” She placed her knife and fork down carefully on the tray, feeling her appetite ebbing away as desire swirled in her stomach. “In that case, it’s detention, I’m afraid. After dinner. In your bedroom.” Stop looking at me like that, she thought, picking up her knife again with unsteady fingers. “As for the rest, I’ll do you a detailed report at the end of term.” She pointed to her empty glass with her knife and gave him what she hoped was a sweet smile of encouragement. “Now, could I have more wine, please?”

Later, curled up against him on the sofa, the empty wine bottle on the floor beside her, she felt Tom slip a hand inside her robe and cup a breast. As her nipple beaded against his fingers, she felt the heat rise between her thighs and squirmed.

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His other arm slid inside to weigh the other breast. Keira laid her small hand over his and stilled it. Her heart quickened with anticipation and nerves. “No… There’s something I want to do.” She released herself from his arms and pushed herself to her feet on cotton wool legs. His eyes were like midnight and his voice hoarse as he gazed up at her, standing nervously between his legs. “Am I going to like this?” “I hope so,” she murmured, loosening the tie belt and taking hold of the lapels of the robe in both hands. She let it fall from her shoulders and slide down her body to lie on the thick carpet. The pleasure that bloomed in his eyes as he surveyed her naked body told her everything. He reached for her, but she pushed his hands back to rest by his side and caught her breath. She had never been the most adventurous lover; now here she was stripping wantonly in front of Tom, deliberately tantalizing and teasing him. She pushed his thighs apart and knelt in front of him. Heat from the fire whispered against her back as a log split and crackled in the hearth. Her fingers fumbled with the buckle on his belt, the leather stiff and unyielding, but she managed and then moved on to the metal button. Freeing it from the buttonhole, she laid her fingers on the zip as Tom gave a sigh of surprise and anticipation. The zip eased down with a whirr, parting to reveal the soft hair around his hardening erection. Tom helped her along by sliding farther down the sofa so she could tug his jeans over his hips. “I want to taste you.” She closed her eyes. He felt her kiss between his thighs before she closed her mouth around him. He let out a groan of pleasure. She stopped, and he ached to feel her swollen lips on him again. What was he doing to them both? Where was his conscience? But as Keira’s full mouth closed around him again, he lost all reason. The sensation of her tongue gently exploring him washed away everything else. He shifted his hips as a warm wave of feeling rippled through his body.

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Chapter Ten

Tom squinted at the sunlight slanting in through the sash windows of his bedroom. After two years in the southern hemisphere, he had thought he would never get used to the darkness of northern winter, when some days it never got beyond a dim gloom. Uncharacteristically, today was bright and sparkling. He turned his head to the clock beside the bed and blinked. “You’re awake, then, lazybones?” Her arms slid around his chest, hugging him, her feet massaging the backs of his calves. It felt bloody fantastic. He felt bloody fantastic. “How long have I been asleep?” he murmured as she snuggled tighter against his spine. She murmured against his back. “Oh…I don’t know. Maybe since midnight. You dragged me up here and then fell asleep, but I won’t hold it against you. It is Sunday morning. You can have a lie-in, you know.” He flipped himself over until he faced her. “I haven’t done lie-ins since I was a boy, when I had to be hauled out of bed by my mother or one of the staff in the school holidays.” He reached for her and held her in his arms, and realised what was so different about this Sunday morning. He was perfectly, completely rested, and it felt so right. “Keira…” She lifted her head off his chest, blue eyes gazing at him expectantly. “Get dressed, please. I want to make you breakfast.” While Tom showered, she pulled her clothes from the airing cupboard and shook her head. Her oncewhite bra and knickers were a delicate shade of grey-blue. Her dark T-shirt had survived, though. Tom might be able to grill a steak and suture a wound, but he was positively dangerous with a washing machine. She had just fastened up her bra when he emerged, dripping from his shower, out onto the landing. “You found them, then,” he said sheepishly. “I put them in there to dry late last night. I’m sorry, laundry is clearly not my strong point. I’ll buy you some new ones.” “It’s okay.” She smiled, enjoying his embarrassment. “And you know what? When it comes to washing, practice makes perfect.” Keira sat patiently at the kitchen table while he unearthed the end of a loaf and a slab of butter. He made fresh coffee and got out plates and cutlery, refusing any help.

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Hmmm, a night in bed sure made you hungry, she thought, selecting another slice of toast and biting into it. She licked a trail of butter from her mouth. Bare chested and bare footed, Tom stood with his back to the sink, sipping coffee. He looked thoughtful, serious, even. She drained her mug, wincing at the bitter last drops. “More?” he asked. “Yes. Why not?” She didn’t really want any coffee, but it saved the conversation from turning awkward. Rescuing the pot from the machine, Tom refilled her mug and sat at the scrubbed farmhouse table. “Keira, about the washing.” The washing, ha, now that was a topic she hadn’t expected. “Tom, it really doesn’t matter.” He toyed with a teaspoon. “I’m just avoiding the issue. Look, I think we should get a few things straight. What I’m trying to say is—” “—this was all a mistake and I should go home now?” “No!” The strength of his denial made her jump. “Good grief, no,” he said, stretching out for her hand. “Quite the opposite, in fact.” He caressed the lace of veins in the back of her hand with a fingertip as he spoke. “We both know we can only have a short time together but…” His eyes met hers as she waited for him to continue, heart fluttering. She wasn’t going to give it to him on a plate; she wanted him to ask. “So why don’t we spend every minute of it we can together?” he said. Life was too short…and it was so tempting. Wake up to him every morning; share his body, his bed, his life. Knowing he could see her wavering, part of her wanted to cry out in frustration. This wasn’t fair, and yet he was right. The alternative was a cold blank nothing and regrets to last a lifetime. “It’s okay, Tom,” she said, disguising the tremor in her voice as a teasing laugh. “I’d like that very much too. I’m a big girl, and I’m not going to boil your bunny when it’s all over.” He smiled and said gently, “I never had you down as a bunny boiler. You’d be more likely to keep it in a hutch for the kids.” She got to her feet, snatching up a buttery plate to try to disguise the pounding in her wrist that he would surely feel if she let him hold on any longer. “Keira, I’m serious. Are you absolutely sure about this?” She opened the dishwasher door and deposited the plate in the rack. Tom couldn’t see her face from here; that was good. Before she answered him, she retrieved a dirty cup from the worktop and added that to the load, clicked shut the door and faced him. “I wouldn’t blame you for walking away,” he said. “It’s incredibly selfish of me, but I want you to stay.” The butter tub was just out of reach. She stretched out an arm to rescue it. “This needs to go back in the fridge.”

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He was too quick for her and caught her wrist. “Keira, answer me, please. After last night, there’s no going back, really, is there?” She smiled. “Relax. We’re both grown-ups, we both know the score. We’re adult enough to know it’s a no-strings, no-complications relationship. Trust me, I’m not expecting anything more from this than great company and some fantastic sex.” She looked up into his face, expecting a gleam of triumph. What she glimpsed wasn’t quite that. Oh, the smile was there, but there was something else clouding his eyes. A tinge of doubt and uncertainty. “Aren’t you pleased?” she said, keeping her tone light and teasing. “I’ve said yes. We can spend the rest of the time together until you leave. Nothing more, nothing less.” Now she got the stirrings of a smile. “No strings or complications, eh?” he echoed. “What man could resist?” And what woman, she told herself. Not this one. Not this time. Keira decided to risk a little more. What had she got to lose now? “There’s just one condition,” she said, trying her sternest expression. Tom narrowed his eyes. “Ah, now we get to the sting in the tail.” “No sting.” She laughed. “Let’s agree never to talk about you leaving. Let’s stick to your philosophy and live for today, worry about tomorrow when it comes.” “That I can agree to.” His voice was soft, but again there was something very like bitterness behind his words. Even as he hugged her to him, his fingers tangling in her hair, she could sense it. She nuzzled against his chest, wondering why he’d said he was happy with the arrangement but didn’t sound it. She’d done exactly what he wanted, and yet a tiny corner of him seemed almost regretful that she’d said yes. Maybe she was being paranoid; when he released her and tilted her chin up to look at him, he was just Tom again. Maybe she could stick to the agreement, forget he was going and just enjoy the ride without worrying where or when it would end. Taking his hand, she began to lead him out of the kitchen. “Let’s get on with it, then, shall we?”

Tom cursed and dropped his razor into the washbasin. Outside the Lodge, the night had begun to give way to a deep blue dawn. He found a piece of tissue and rubbed the cut on his cheek. Just a nick; nothing to bother about. Fishing the blade out of the basin, he began to shave again, under his chin, his neck, his upper lip. He surveyed his face in the mirror critically. The shadows under his eyes had diminished. His weekend of sex and sleep and—he realised with a jolt—a weekend of that thing called happiness had done more for him than medication or counseling could have. “Keira, I’m so happy you’re staying,” he’d told her as she’d tugged him up the steps from the kitchen to the bedroom.

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“I think you need to understand something, Tom Carew. I’m not staying here. Not every night, but that doesn’t mean the nights I do…deign to stay, can’t be hot. Very.” He remembered trying to scan her expression. Was she making fun of him? Teasing him? But of course, that was a given. “No strings. No complications. Just two adults enjoying each other,” she’d said airily. Which was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? “Nothing more, nothing less.” Those were her words. So everything was okay, then, wasn’t it? He patted his face dry with a towel and wandered into the bedroom to get dressed. Around the room lay the debris of their lovemaking. Muddy running shorts and vest still abandoned on the carpet, an empty packet of condoms dropped on top of a textbook on tropical medicine. The blue cotton robe lay crumpled in a heap by the chest of drawers. Tom couldn’t care less about the mess; it was the impression her words had made that disturbed him, that were upsetting his orderly life and making him doubt. Even as he gulped down a coffee, grabbed his bag and tried to scrape the ice from the windscreen of the Land Rover, he kept trying to put his finger on what was wrong. “Nothing more, nothing less.” He turned her words over in his mind as he turned the key and tried to coax the ailing engine into life. More or less than what? Was it really just sex for her? Didn’t she want more? He heard the ancient machine cough then sputter as it lived to fight another day. He heaved a sigh of relief. Everything was fine after all. Perhaps Keira really didn’t want more from their bargain. If she had, it would have been cruel of him to pursue her. His stomach lurched as he pulled away, and it wasn’t due to any damn speed ramp. Nor to the fact that Keira might expect more than fun and sex from their month together. Tom knew, deep down, that the bolt of panic was because he just might expect more.

“So it’s just a bit of fun, and he’s leaving you at the end of the month, but you’ve practically moved in with the guy.” Keira looked up from the underwear displays in the department store and gave Su a mutinous look. This shopping trip for Charlie Carew’s upcoming birthday party had seemed like a good idea, but she was having second thoughts already. “Trust you to make it sound ridiculous. And get this clear. I am not living with him.” “It is ridiculous, hon.” She didn’t like the edge of concern in Su’s voice. It was verging on genuine worry, and that bothered her. So she turned her attention to a white lacy thong on the knicker rack. Hmm, now that was so naughty in a nice way. Sexy but not too in-your-face. Very her and very Tom. Su cut in on her fantasy. “Tell me to mind my own business, of course, but if it makes you happy.”

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“Su, just remember it was you that encouraged me to make the most of him—enjoy his company, you said, get to know him better.” “That was before I knew you’d fallen for him like a ton of bricks.” Keira inspected a pair of minishorts and wondered if that would be more her, then dismissed them. She wanted something that would surprise him, something not like the old Keira. The old Keira wore sensible knickers and the first bra she could drag out of the drawer. When had she become this daring, confident lover wanting to inflame a man? What had Tom done to her? Oh heck, this wasn’t a good time, not here in the shop. Pulling a slinky half-cup from the display, she eyed Su rebelliously. Her voice came out as a squeak. “It’s just a bit of fun. No comeback, no commitment.” The snort that followed from Su drew a disapproving stare from a sales assistant. “We’ve made everything clear between us. And I haven’t fallen for him.” “You’re right,” said Su, frowning at a lurid yellow corset. “I know you haven’t fallen for him. Just like you didn’t want to become a teacher since you were five. Like you said you weren’t bothered when Alex turned into Mr. Hyde. This is me, Keira. Don’t try and pull the wool over my eyes.” “I never said I didn’t like Tom, but it’s not love or anything like that, so don’t worry. I’m in no danger.” She held the undies aloft. “Will these do? They’re a stupid price, of course, but my best set had a disastrous date with some jeans in Tom’s washing machine.” Su raised her eyebrows. “He does his own washing, then? Doesn’t have the laundry maid in?” “He does his own everything. Not including laundry maids.” She laughed, fluttering the lacy undies in Su’s face. “Well? What do you think? Will these do for an earl’s fortieth birthday party?” “Sophisticated, saucy, impractical and definitely not the Keira I know. And you say you’re not in danger from this guy? Sorry to tell you this, hon, but you need warning cones around you.”

The invitation lay propped up on the mantelpiece at her flat under the Jack Vettriano print. It was twenty-first century, very cheesy and with no ancestors involved, but Keira loved it. “The Singing Butler”, it was called. She wondered if Charlie had a butler. Hmm, doubtful. Keira scuttled past the window into the bedroom with a towel wrapped round her and tipped the contents of the department store bag onto the bed. The underwear that had added an extra burden to her credit card was truly gorgeous, and now was the night to try it out. She twisted this way and that in front of the dressing table mirror. Whoever invented thongs, she thought, should be made to wear them night and day for a lifetime. The bra was all lacy and sort of tickly and irritating in a nice way.

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She grabbed her little silk dress from the wardrobe and slipped it on. Half an hour later she was ready, in the lounge, in the killer heels, waiting for Tom to buzz her door. Which he did, just as she was hunting for a pashmina and wondering how she’d ever be warm again. His voice sounded distorted over the intercom. “It’s me.” “Come up,” she called. She cursed as she turned the catch on the door. Had she left the price tag on the thong? She could feel it scratching the small of her back. She frowned and twisted round as she pulled the door open. “Hello.” “Oh.” Wearing a beautifully cut dinner suit, a silk black tie round his neck, Tom Carew looked quite absurdly handsome. He bent to kiss her cheek. “You look gorgeous, Keira,” he said, giving her one of his intense gazes that she knew by now had more to do with making her turned on than uncomfortable. “You also smell positively edible.” He pressed his lips to her neck. She felt a flush of delight. Su had given her a gorgeous vanilla perfume. She’d concocted it herself, and it was just so delicious. She’d hoped Tom would like it and most of all would love seeing her in her “wedding” outfit again. It was way too cold, of course, and the shoes were still hopeless, but it was a special night. Keira didn’t know how to reply but managed, “You look…tall.” “As far as I’m aware, I’m exactly the same height as when I started med school.” “In that suit thing, you look taller. Oh, you know what I mean!” she cried in exasperation. “This ‘suit thing’, if you haven’t forgotten, madam, is entirely your responsibility. It was you who persuaded Charlie to make the evening black tie.” “Mea culpa.” She giggled and let him take her in his arms for a kiss. “Well, I thought the tux was corny, so what in the name of the cheesiest Bond movie is this?” she asked as Tom escorted her out of the flat towards a sleek sports coupe. She ran a hand along the shining paintwork. “Where’s the Land Rover?” “I’m sorry to report it’s critically ill.” “You’ve not had an accident in it!” “No. Serious electrical failure brought on by damp. The prognosis isn’t good.” She pointed at the dark blue Aston Martin, gleaming in the light of a street lamp. “But where did you get this thing?” “From the garage at the Lodge. I’m afraid I had no choice.” She loved his discomfort at driving a car that smelled of money rather than diesel fumes. Slithering into the sculpted passenger seat, she felt like purring in delight. “Tom. You do know what this is, don’t you?”

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“A four-wheeled vehicle with an internal combustion engine?” he offered, getting into the driver’s side. “I thought we had a no-sarcasm policy.” The heavy door closed with a satisfying clunk, and Tom clicked his seat belt into place. “I’ll stick to the bargain if you do.” “Touché,” she conceded, pulling the pashmina round her. “It’s fabulous, but I have to say, these leather seats are freezing.” He turned the key, and the engine gave a muted roar. “It might help if you wore more underwear.” She inhaled deeply and sighed, the smell of creamy hide seats filling up her senses. “You don’t really mean that.” “You’re damn right I don’t, and besides, I know a way to warm you up.” Pushing a button on the dashboard, he pulled away from the kerb, and the seat belt tightened around her body. Within moments, a very pleasant glow started spreading beneath her legs. She tried not to squirm at the overload of sensations: cool silk, hot leather and the discreetly powerful roar of the engine. “Heated seats. Nice.” “Quite,” said Tom, putting his foot down as they left the lights of the city behind.

He battled with himself almost the whole way to Carew Hall. The thought of her heating up nicely overwhelmed everything else. In fact, if they hadn’t been twenty minutes late already, he’d have stopped the Aston at the Lodge and taken her across the front seats. Even though he knew it was probably impossible and that the centre console and gear stick would have stuck in all sorts of places, he’d have given it a try. She smelled great. She looked amazing. Her hair hung loose and natural over creamy shoulders, a smattering of freckles on the tip of her nose. And that bloody dress. It was driving him crazy. What was worse, she had hold-ups on; he had felt the fine seam at the top through her dress. Hold-ups and a thong. He turned on the CD in the car to try to take his mind off things. Rock music blasted out: The Manic Street Preachers, he recognised. One of Gareth’s, no less. It was his car, after all, but still, some things were beyond the pale. “It’s really good of Charlie to ask us,” ventured Keira as they drove past the Lodge. “Even if you have had to smarten up a bit.” “Thanks,” said Tom. Good of Charlie… He wanted to add that it was also clever of Charlie. For Charlie, as Tom well knew, didn’t want him to go back to Papua, and this was his unsubtle way of showing it, just like the loan of the Lodge and the Aston. Charlie wanted Tom to put down roots, to return to Carew permanently. Get married. Do his duty and produce an heir.

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And, thought Tom wryly, Charlie saw Keira Grayson as the way of achieving all his aims. Having failed to get Tom settled with some girl from the local hunt or university, Charlie had decided to make the most of Tom’s stay in England. Charlie had always behaved more like a mother hen than a big brother, right down to trying to persuade him not to go off to Papua in the first place. Tom had been resolute. He’d always rebelled against his background and privilege, desperate to be able to make a difference to the world beyond idling about on the proceeds of his trust fund. Sometimes being born with everything you would ever need made it difficult to see why you needed to exist at all. It was a shame he’d made such a mess of trying to help. He stopped the Aston sharply outside the Hall, sending gravel flying into the air. “Wait,” he ordered as Keira started to open the door. “I can open the door,” she protested, rightly annoyed at his gruff manner. As Tom strode round to the other side of the car, Charlie ran down the steps of the house and cut ahead of him. “Welcome to Carew Hall,” said Charlie as he handed an amazed Keira out of the car. “So good of you to bring Tom.” As he saw her expression of delight as Charlie led her up the steps towards the smiling Gareth, Tom’s heart rate accelerated. She picked her way up the stone steps, and Gareth took her arm. Sandwiched between two burly men, she seemed even more delicate and ethereal. The coppery lights in her hair shimmered in the flickering flame of torches set on iron stands on either side of the entrance to the hall. She was beautiful. Truly beautiful. He may as well have been run over by the Aston and the Land Rover at once. His throat tightened, his palms felt slick around the handle of their overnight bag. His heart was so full, he was overwhelmed. This couldn’t be happening to him. It was impossible for him to start falling in love now. “Tom, hurry up! Charlie and Gareth want to give me a tour!” She sounded so happy his heart sank. “Coming,” he growled. His legs grew heavy as he climbed the steps, and his feet settled in the hollows worn by thousands of feet over hundreds of years. He knew what they were doing. They wanted him to stay, and they were using all this, his home, the whole ridiculous package, to tempt him. They were using Keira to make him see how good it could be to stay here and have a normal life, and oh God, it was almost starting to work. “Hurry up, Tom, for goodness’ sake, and shut the door.” Keira’s voice drifted across the stone façade of the hall as Tom feigned trouble with their overnight bags. Charlie laughed. “Yes, do you have any idea how much the heating bills are for this place?” Charlie escorted Keira into the drawing room. Tom took the steps slowly, as if he were a toddler or very old indeed. Ahead of him, the door to the hall was open. All he had to do was walk inside. Stomach

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churning, he crossed the threshold and deposited their bags onto the marble floor. He’d once tried to play football with a friend from school on that floor. Inevitably, they’d smashed something, a Meissen figure, if he recalled rightly. His mother had grounded him for a week, and his father had made him get up early to help the housekeeping team light the fires for two weeks. Yet he hadn’t minded, not when there’d been bacon sandwiches with tomato ketchup in the kitchen, an indulgence never allowed on the breakfast table upstairs. His eyes were drawn higher to the gilded staircase that arced up to the first floor. He winced, remembering the attempt at sliding down the banister that had landed him in the local casualty department. Sucking in a breath, he made his way to the open door that led to the drawing room and prepared for the fight of his life.

Keira was having a wonderful time. The attention of three attractive men, one of whom she was in love with, two of whom were gorgeous and entertaining, was like having all the cookies in the jar at once. Dinner had been delicious. Not over the top, not piles of wasted food, just scrummy. So what if she felt like a modern-day Cinderella waiting for her hosts to turn into pumpkins or rats? After three glasses of champagne, she’d ceased to care or to notice that Tom was quiet and taciturn. Sitting at the other end of the dining table, his shirt undone and bow tie hanging loose, Tom was still stinging from the way Gareth and Charlie had monopolised Keira at dinner. Positioning themselves either side of her and asking, “More champagne, Keira…?” or “What on earth do you see in an awkward customer like my brother?” Gareth had had her laughing out loud for a full fifteen minutes with rugby jokes, for hell’s sake. She didn’t laugh out loud with him like that. He knew it was ridiculous, especially considering the circumstances, and he felt stupid. He was jealous, and of two gay men, for goodness’ sake. Most of all, he felt scared of the feelings that had hit him as he’d watched Keira climbing the steps to his home. She’d looked so…so right there. “Excuse me,” he muttered, pushing away his half-eaten plate of cheese and biscuits. “I feel the need for some more port.” “There’s some in the billiards room,” said Charlie, regarding him with suspicion. Keira didn’t seem to notice him. She was too busy giggling as Gareth popped a truffle in her mouth and whispered something in her ear. His blond, cropped head was close enough to give her an aural exam. Hell, he was going to thump his brother’s partner in a minute, rugby international or not. He dropped the linen napkin on the table and got to his feet. “I’ll get it myself.” He knew damn well that he didn’t want any port. He wanted time to think.

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It didn’t take Charlie long to find him, where he was rolling billiard balls idly over the baize in the billiard room. The room was dim, lit only by the table’s overhead lighting. Tom sniffed and let out a sigh. It smelled like a bloody gentleman’s club—all oak panels and brandy and cigars. Charlie leaned on the table and caught a ball before it rolled into the pocket. “Tom, what’s up?” Tom picked up the ball from the triangle and cradled it in his hand, feeling the smoothness, the weight. “Nothing’s up. What makes you think anything has to be up?” “You hate port.” He hurled the ball onto the cloth, where it landed with a thud. “I hate this whole setup.” Charlie winced. “The hall or what’s happening with you and Keira? And please, have some respect for your heritage; that’s an antique table.” “Mind your own business, Charlie.” “I don’t think I will, actually, little brother. Not this time. Not when there’s this much at stake.” Tom turned his eyes on him and felt his chest tighten with anger. “What the hell do you mean by that?” “You’re destroying yourself with this fruitless quest you’re on. You and Keira.” “I know what I’m doing, and so does she. We’re both just making the most of what we can, while we can. That’s all we can do.” “Are you so very sure she knows the score?” He gripped the side of the table, furious with his brother. “Are you sure you know the score yourself? What you really want, and that you’re not just heading back to Papua out of guilt? Is that really what you want from life, shutting yourself away out there?” Charlie asked. Did he know what he wanted? He’d thought he had until now. Until he’d met Keira. Seeing her here in his home had shown him a dangerous alternative he hadn’t considered. Taking it would mean abandoning everything he had planned for himself and, worse, betraying the people he’d hurt, leaving the damage he’d done unpaid for. Tom grabbed the blue and squeezed it, wanting to crush it but knowing he would get nowhere. “I know exactly what I’m doing. Nothing can change it.” “You’re going to hurt her.” “I’m not.” He flinched as Charlie patted his arm lightly. “You’re certainly going to hurt yourself, Tom.” “I know you think you’re helping, but please, for my sake and Keira’s, will you mind you own business?” Charlie withdrew his hand and walked towards the door, then turned. “Tom, I have to tell you this, even if you don’t like it. You’re running away, boy, and that’s not like you.”

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.”

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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.”

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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?”

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“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?”

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“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

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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.

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“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.

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Chapter Twelve

Keira’s stomach did a backflip as she changed gear too late to avoid a hedge-hop over the speed bump on the estate. She cursed herself for letting it take her by surprise. Surely by now she ought to be familiar with every pothole, curve and nuance of the road to Carew Lodge? Then again she didn’t have her mind on the road tonight. All week, she’d had a horrible creeping sense that tonight might be the last time she saw Tom. In fact, the scenario that might be played out had occupied her mind almost 24/7. Yes, even during lessons when she should have given all her attention to her students. But what could you do? It was way too late for regrets now. Climbing out of the car, she flicked the auto-lock, then made her way into the porch. Gravel crunched under her feet, and her breath misted in the night air as she reached the house. She didn’t bother to knock. Flipping over a stone in the porch, she found the spare key and was already closing the door as Tom entered the hall. His greeting was unusually curt and there was no kiss. “You didn’t answer your mobile,” he said, helping her out of her coat. “I left you a message. I’ve had tons of marking, reports, Christmas, Diwali celebrations.” “Of course,” he said gruffly. “I should have realised.” The truth was, she had just needed time on her own, which was ironic when time was the last thing they had. Knowing that the moment would come all too soon for them to say good-bye, she almost wanted to be put out of her misery now. Almost. As Tom hung her coat on the rack and led the way to the drawing room. Keira tried to keep her tone light and uncontentious. “Don’t look so fed up, Tom. I simply couldn’t make it until tonight, and besides, it was Mum’s birthday yesterday. We went out to Bertorelli’s and had the spaghetti.” “Was it up to the same standard?” “Not quite, but we enjoyed it.” He watched her closely as she sat on the chaise longue and tucked her legs under her to make room for him. Choosing not to fill the space, he flopped back in an armchair, watching her through slightly narrowed eyes. Maybe she was right to be worried; he was behaving strangely. Then again, what was normal for him? She may know every inch of his body, but as for the man himself, he was still a mystery to her in so many ways.

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“Have you told your mother about us?” he asked. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” He raised his eyebrows. “I shouldn’t think she approves of what we’re doing. Of me and my dishonourable intentions, I mean.” She giggled with nerves but knew it sounded like amusement. “For goodness’ sake, I’m not a helpless virgin and you’re not an evil seducer. I knew—know— exactly what I’m doing, and you’d be surprised. My mum is a modern woman. She knows two adults can have sex together without it being some big lurve thing.” Taking in the confident, laughing young woman opposite, Tom felt as if the ground under him had somehow suddenly tilted. “Some big lurve thing…” he echoed slowly. “Hmm, I bet she thinks I’m Mr. Wonderful. What else have you told her?” “The truth. What else is there to tell?” The surprise in Keira’s voice made him feel strangely depressed and confused. “I’ve made it clear that this is just fun. That we both know and have always known the score, and it can’t be anything else. It’s just been a great adventure in a big life, and then we’ll shake hands and say good-bye. You’ll move on, and so will I.” Tom couldn’t think of a single word in reply. He got up and walked to the fireplace, where his appointment letter still rested accusingly behind the ormolu clock. A sick dread threatened to overwhelm him. He knew he had no right to expect Keira to feel anything for him beyond desire, or affection maybe, but hearing her dismiss their relationship felt like salt in a wound. Worse, it was a wound he didn’t even know he’d sustained. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked. “You look pale.” Seeing her curled up on his sofa like she belonged there, he felt a wrench of yearning and need that threatened to overpower him. Her skin seemed luminous and her eyes bluer than the midday sky above the village in Papua where he’d worked. Right now, that village felt like it was at the other end of the universe, and he wanted it to stay there. “Absolutely fine,” he said, holding out his hands. “Come here.” Later, after dinner, as she led him up the stairs and into his bedroom, he forced himself to face the question that had been hovering at the edge of his conscience for so long now. What had he become? Taking solace from the woman he’d treated as no more than a…a…he fought for the word…a mistress. Like some lord-of-the-bloody-manor claiming his droits de seigneur. What had he done to deserve this beautiful, fresh woman? No matter how much he tried to deny it, he now felt far more than he ever had a right to do. As they slid together under the sheets, he told himself again that if she felt so little in return, wasn’t it his own fault?

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Even though he knew it was hopeless, Tom carried on trying to pound Sarah’s heart back into life with his fist and force breath into her lungs with his mouth. He stopped for a second, thinking he’d heard or felt something flutter and stir. He cried out in frustration, realizing it was only his heart pounding, his breathing that he heard in that quiet, still space. Finally, when he’d checked one last time that she had no vital signs of any kind, he’d had to close her eyes and give up.

Keira felt as if a spectre had crept into their bedroom and injected ice into her veins. She dared not move a muscle, hardly even dared to breathe as she lay next to Tom. Moonlight slanted in through the sash window, throwing distorted shadows that crept across the floor and onto the bed. Tom, by contrast, was sweating, shaking and mumbling the same sound over and over again, a mix of a word and a cry of anguish. Keira strained her ears but found it impossible to make out what he was saying. All she knew was that he was in great pain. As he flung out an arm, her knees shot up to her chest, and she hugged them to her. If she hadn’t already been perched on the farthest part of the bed, he might have accidentally hit her. She curled into a ball, trying to appear as small and insignificant as she could, scared almost to breathe. Should she call out to him or reach out her hand to touch and comfort him? Should she even try to wake him? Would it make things worse, frighten him? Inch by inch, she uncurled and lifted back the cover as he lay lost in a world she couldn’t comprehend and calling out one name over and over again. “Tom…” Her hand inched towards his tightly clenched fingers. “Tom…” She called as loudly as she dared, and his eyes remained screwed shut as her fingertips fluttered on his arm, which was slick with perspiration. “Wake up, please,” she murmured, still unsure if she was doing the right thing and afraid he might lash out at her without meaning to. As she stroked his arm with trembling fingers, he began to relax. She sighed with relief as she saw his fists unclench. He lay for a moment, suddenly as still as he’d been agitated, then he turned his head to one side, looked right at her and said one word, quietly but with perfect clarity. “Sarah.” It seemed like an age but could only have been minutes later that Tom swung his feet out of bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, head between his hands. Bands of cold moonlight and shadow patterned his back and shoulders. Keira felt the hard ridge of his spine under the pads of her fingers as she stroked his back. Her heart went out to him, this proud and private man, knowing he would be tormented with shame that she had witnessed his nightmare. His voice came to her, muffled by protective hands. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” “Tom, it’s fine. Please, don’t worry.”

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He dragged his palms from forehead to chin. “You must think I’m a complete idiot.” “It’s okay. You just had a nightmare.” She massaged the rigid flesh between his shoulder blades, feeling it like iron under her hands. “Do you want to tell me about it?” Shaking off her hand, he twisted round. His eyes were full of fire and anger. “No. You don’t want to hear,” he said savagely, then groaned. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, Keira. This isn’t your fault. You should never have had to be part of it.” “Whatever it is, I am part of it, and I want to help you. Haven’t we grown close enough for that, at least? To trust each other?” Trust? Tom felt doubly ashamed now. Not just because Keira had witnessed one of his dreams, but also because of his overreaction. He should have laughed it off, told her it was a one-off. Now she knew it meant more than that. As for trust, if there was anyone he wanted to share this terrible burden with, it ought to be her. She was loyal, sympathetic and innocent of what kind of man he truly was, and that, he resolved, was why she would be the last person on earth who would hear the truth. “Why don’t you get back under the covers with me? It’s freezing out there.” He almost laughed at her practicality, speaking to him like she was one of her Year Five class. He had to batten down the urge to lie in her arms and let the whole damn story flow from him until he was empty. How easy it would be, what a relief, what a terrible mistake. She would never look at him the same again once she heard the truth, and even though he was leaving, he couldn’t bear for her last memory of him to be one of a man who had let down and betrayed his dearest friends. “Please, Tom, if you’re not going to get back in here for your own sake, at least do it for me.” She smiled at him, and his guts cramped painfully. “It’s bloody freezing out there.” Hesitating for a moment, the sheen of sweat on his body cooling in the night air, Tom shivered. He slipped back into bed, the warmth of her body searing his skin, and swaddled the duvet around them both, reveling in its comforting warmth. If only, he thought, he could shut out the memories of that long night in the rainforest as easily. Keira wriggled next to him, obviously relieved that he’d come back to bed. “Hmmm…that’s better,” she said. Tom suppressed a sigh as he felt the scrape of her small feet against his shins and her palms flat against his chest. For a while, they lay together simply savouring the sensation of skin on skin, exchanging mutual warmth, most of it glowing within her, but she wasn’t going to give up, he knew that. He felt her question resonate against his chest. “Are you going to tell me about it?” “If I tell you, you’ll never think of me in the same way again.” “That could never happen. Whatever you have to say to me, it can’t be that bad.” He felt his throat constrict. “It can and it is.”

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He thought of throwing back the duvet again and walking off, out of the room, out of the Lodge, running away over the fields and never coming back. Tom rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling above the bed. A plaster cherub smiled down at him from the ornate ceiling rose, mocking him in the half-light. “I won’t let you go until you do tell me. I’ll stay here until Christmas and tie you to the bed. If you can’t tell me what’s hurting you so much, who will you ever tell?” Propping herself up on her elbow, she looked down into his eyes and delivered the killer blow. “After all, once you’ve confessed, you’ll never have to face me again.” The seconds ticked by as she waited above him, eyes expectant and challenging, then he opened his mouth and said, as calmly as if he’d just agreed to pop out to the supermarket: “I betrayed one friend and let the other one die.”

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Chapter Thirteen

“You see, you hate me already.” Keira cursed herself for the sudden intake of breath. Let someone die? It couldn’t be true. Tom could never harm anyone, not deliberately, anyway. Reaching over to the bedside table, he flicked on the lamp. As she blinked in the harsh light, she saw pain and anxiety etched around his eyes and his jaw set tight. “I could never hate you, and I’m sure whatever you think you’ve done, it can’t be that bad. You wouldn’t hurt anyone, I know you.” She laid her fingers on his forearm, feeling the sinews strung as taut as wire. “You’re wrong. You don’t know me. What I did, what happened to us, was my fault. My doing. My responsibility.” Tom wrenched his arm away from her. He couldn’t bear her to touch him or comfort him. She had opened a box he’d tried to keep shut for nearly a year now. A year? Could it really be that long since it had happened? Could he bear to tell her what happened? About his failure? About the day he had played God with the lives of two people he loved? How it had changed his world forever and brought him to this state. “Why would you want to know?” he asked, knowing his voice was way rougher than she deserved. “Because I want to help you. I don’t know if I can, but if there is a chance that by telling me, by me just listening, that I can ease your pain a tiny amount, I want to hear.” “Keira, I don’t think I can talk about it.” “I want to know because I care about you, Tom.” Tom wanted to cry out in frustration. You might care about me now, he wanted to shout, but when you hear that because of what I did—and what I didn’t do—a girl is dead, you won’t feel the same, I promise you. A girl I cared about, he wanted to cry out, and the woman my best friend wanted to marry. Now she’s dead, and he hates me. “Is this woman Sarah?” Keira’s whisper was like an electric shock. Tom hadn’t realised he’d been speaking aloud, but now it was too late to stem the tide any longer. Keira deserved to know what kept him awake at night when she wasn’t here. She had earned the right to know exactly what kind of a man he was. Once she did, he reasoned, it would make it so much easier for him to let her go and for her to walk away, but the last thing he wanted was to be comforted. Others had tried to absolve him from guilt before, and that could never be possible. He did at least, however, owe her an explanation.

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It had been a year ago now, yet it was as vivid as if the scene had been played out before him in Technicolor. Every second of that time was an action replay, shown from different angles, rerun in slow motion and even in reverse. It was as if his senses had gone into overdrive. Even the sounds were magnified. He heaved in a breath and hauled the words out of some dark pit. “It was a year ago…almost to the day. We were coming to the end of our two years, and we were desperate for a rest. We’d been making trips into the isolated villages and this was going to be our last one. We were going to be away for a couple of days, three at most…and then…” His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “We thought we were all coming home, Sarah and David and I.” “They were your colleagues?” she prompted, still holding on to his hand as he spoke. “Other doctors.” “Colleagues and friends. We grew close out there, naturally…” His voice tailed off. He wasn’t sure how much she’d heard of his ramblings while he’d been having the nightmare or how much she already knew about the relationships in that steamy, extreme place. “I’d been out of the village overnight with a guide, visiting a patient in a small fishing community a few hours’ walk away. When I got back, I went to my hut. I thought Sarah and David were around the village running a clinic. I lay down in the hut because I was tired. I only meant to rest awhile because I’d set out before dawn for the fishing village with the guide, but I fell asleep the moment my head touched the mat. Ironic, isn’t it, that I can’t sleep now?” Keira stroked his cheek. “You never told me that. You haven’t had one of these bad dreams before. I didn’t know they were troubling you.” “They don’t trouble me when you’re here, only when I’m alone, and then not every night. I either can’t sleep or I wake up after a nightmare.” He hesitated and steeled himself to carry on. “I hadn’t been asleep long that afternoon when I heard cries and shouts and running feet. The sun was hot on my face as they pulled the curtain in the hut aside. They were shaking me. I thought it was Sarah and David at first, but then I realized it was some of the villagers.” Keira’s fingers squeezed his firmly, reassuring him. The rush of tenderness scared him with its intensity. He should have known from the start that she would begin to peel away the layers and get close to the core of him. “The villagers took me to the elders’ hut. Sarah and David were in there, lying on mats with the elders trying to help them. I’d only been away for a night and a day, but in that time they’d both become sick. David was bad, but Sarah was worse. I should have taken more care. We’d been walking through some bush on the way. We’d all got scratches…” Tom stopped, the words sticking in his throat like chunks of barbed wire at the memory of his friends lying in the hut. Sarah had mentioned she felt a little unwell but had dismissed it when David and Tom had expressed their concern. In twenty-four hours, she’d developed a raging fever and a cough. David

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complained of headaches and chest pain, and his lymph nodes were swollen. Tom had known it was serious. “I couldn’t be sure what was wrong other than they must have some kind of infection, but I could see they were going downhill rapidly, and I had to do something. David was half lucid, and from what he said, and what I could diagnose with the basic kit we had with us, I suspected it could be melioidosis.” He shook his head. “I knew then, Keira, that it was probably hopeless.” “What’s melioidosis?” “A bacterial infection. You catch it from soil, water and mud. It causes a dangerous fever, and you have to treat it with a cocktail of antibiotics, and even then the cure can kill you.” “But you said that you killed Sarah. Surely it was the infection that did that? And David is alive?” “He’s alive, but he wishes he wasn’t. You see, melioidosis is rare, and while I had some antibiotics on the trip, we couldn’t possibly carry everything we needed for every eventuality. I saw that Sarah had the septicemic form of it, and I knew the mortality rate was over ninety percent. There was no chance that they’d survive the journey to get help; it was too far away. She was already dying, so I had to make a decision. “I gave David the anti-bios I hoped could treat the melioidosis, and I gave some painkillers to Sarah, but I knew they could only make her a little more comfortable and probably even helped her to slip away faster.” “But what did you do wrong? You only made a decision. Wouldn’t you have done the same if you hadn’t known them?” “I played God. David thought I had. He was too weak to know what I’d done at the time, but when Sarah… When the rest of the medical team arrived to rescue us and he was stronger, Sarah was dead. I told everyone what I’d done, that I’d given the drugs to David because I knew he had the best chance of surviving.” “If you hadn’t, they would both have died.” “That’s what he wanted. They were getting married, and he worshipped her. He told me I’d killed them both, even though physically he was still alive.” “That was cruel.” “But understandable.” “Tom, you can’t torture yourself like this, whatever happened.” He slammed down any attempt to excuse him. He pulled his hand from hers, focusing on the moon framed in the window, anything to avoid lingering on her expression of pity. “How did you get the scars on your hands?” She spoke gently. Tom glanced down at his fingers. “That was later, when we got back to the medical centre. It was a glass flask. I was holding it. I didn’t know how hard I was squeezing, and it shattered in my hands.”

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She took his fingers again and felt him wince. As she pressed her lips to his knuckles, Tom felt something stinging his eyes. Flinging back the covers, he hauled himself out of bed and crossed to the window. He couldn’t stand it any longer. “They were engaged, don’t you see? David and Sarah. We were all going to their wedding when we got home. I was going to be best man.” Best man; what a ridiculous irony that was, considering what he’d allowed to happen to the bride. “I ended up being Matt’s best man instead. Ah the irony of that… When you met me in the churchyard, I’d had to come outside for some air, and you know what happened next.” “I’m so glad it did. I’m so happy you came back here. You don’t deserve to carry a burden like this. You may think you do, but you haven’t done anything wrong, Tom, can’t you see that? It’s not your fault she’s dead or that David can’t accept that you made the right decision. You made the only decision that you could possibly have made in those circumstances.” He gazed at her, wrapped in the duvet, sitting in his bed. Her hair highlighted in copper and rich chestnut, her face pale. She really cared about him, and she should have so much more than he could ever give. “Maybe I could forgive myself, and I certainly understand how he feels. I could get over it, but that’s only part of the story. He knows more than that. While she was ill, before he got too sick to hear, she was delirious and she told him something.” “What?” “That she was in love with me, Keira.” Keira stared at him, her world shifting. Tom had had an affair with his best friend’s fiancée. “I can see your face. I don’t blame you. It was unforgiveable.” “You had an affair with Sarah?” “An affair? Not quite. She came to me the night before she set off. She told me that when we got back from the trip, she intended to break off the engagement, and she told me she was in love with me. I didn’t know what to say…” “Did you love her?” “Love? As a friend, maybe. I was very fond of her. She was beautiful and funny and brilliant, but she was David’s fiancée. She kissed me and I kissed her back, and for a moment, I enjoyed it. Then I walked away. She called after me that she knew I wanted her, and I denied it. I told her we had to work together and to forget me and make her life with David. Then we went on the trip, and we were busy working and trying to cope. That’s why I volunteered to go on the trip to the river community, to give her and David time together without me. When I got back, it was too late.” “You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing more than think for a moment of what might have been.” “But I believe I did wrong, David believes I did too, and that’s all that matters.”

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Her arms were open wide, beckoning him back. “Come to bed, please.” He gave in. As she made room for him and slipped her arms around him, he felt something like comfort creeping over him. “I know you’re trying to help,” he whispered, “but don’t, please. I’ve tried myself.” Sarah had kissed him, and he had tasted her mouth back. He’d touched her, felt…something for her. He was so far from home, they’d grown so close, he’d wanted her himself for a time until it was clear that David loved her and they’d got engaged. He’d embraced her in the tiny room where they kept their scant store of medical supplies; then he’d come to his senses and pushed her away, leaving the two of them miserable and the third duped and betrayed. “Even if I accepted that I made the right decision about treating David, I can’t forgive myself for betraying a friend. I know exactly what I have to do. I have to go back—I want to go back—and put things right.” Keira struggled to reply. “I don’t want to be hard, but how can you do that? You can’t turn the clock back. No one can. Isn’t it arrogant to think you can?” “You’re absolutely right. I can’t turn back the clock, but I can help in one respect—the only one—and that’s what I’m going to do. Because of me, there are now three fewer doctors in that village. Three fewer people to help the villagers, a brilliant doctor dead and another one bereaved and shattered, and so that’s what I’m going to do.” Keira wasn’t giving up, and his heart went out to her for it. “Tom, I know you believe you have caused all this, and I know you’re wrong, but I don’t know what to say. But think about this. Your friend—David—I’m sure he doesn’t blame you now.” “I haven’t seen David since we got back to the medical centre. They airlifted him out, and he’s back home now.” The sharp remembrance of that final meeting stung him more than anything. After he’d been to visit David in the medical centre and heard that Sarah, in her ramblings, had revealed her feelings for Tom. Perhaps, Tom thought, it would have been kinder to David—certainly kinder to himself—to have claimed that Sarah was delirious and rambling and that her dreams had been just that. Feverish dreams. But Tom had been unable to lie to his friend. His silence had told David everything, and afterwards, when Tom had tried to explain that it had been just a kiss, that he had walked away, it was too late. David knew the truth: that Sarah and Tom had betrayed him, and now he had nothing. “I flew home to England soon afterwards and tried to visit the hospital as David recovered, but he refused to see me. The only way I can see of saving anything from the whole mess is to go back.” As Keira’s breath feathered against his chest, he touched her head with his lips. The lightest touch…

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“No one needs me here. The people there need me, and I’m going. I just hope I don’t make the same kind of mess again.” No one needed him here… As she lay in his arms, Keira may as well have been naked outside in the cold morning frost. His words chilled her to the bone. There was no fighting the demons that Tom had chosen to embrace, and she felt powerless to help him. In time, he might choose to let those demons go, but he had to make that decision for himself. She knew she had nothing, absolutely nothing, to compete with that. All she could do was set him free and take her destiny into her own hands. “Come here,” she whispered. Tom let her make love to him, take the lead as he never had before. He lay obediently as she brought him comfort with her fingers and with her mouth. He bore it all, patiently, until she brought him to the point of bursting need. Only then, when he could stand it no longer, did he take control, settle her astride him and thrust his way into her willing body, deeply and powerfully, bringing them both the oblivion they craved. It was in that moment, as she took him so far away from everything he’d clung onto, like grim death, for a year, that he knew he was completely, utterly in love with her.

It was still dark outside when Keira slipped from their bed, leaving Tom sleeping deeply. She shivered as the cool air stripped the warmth of his body from her almost instantly. It tasted bitter, the pain of being in the arms of the man she loved but who was leaving her forever. Of seeking and giving comfort to the very person who was giving her pain. Now she refused to taste the agony of the final good-bye. Outside, the dawn seemed to creep reluctantly across the sky. As she gathered up her clothes from the bedroom floor, she stopped and held her breath, fearful of waking him and having to face the questions, maybe even see the relief in his eyes, as she told him she was going. Yet he didn’t move. His breathing stayed regular and quiet as she stole out of the bedroom into the landing. Clutching her clothes and bag to her chest, she crept downstairs to the drawing room and got dressed. Now she faced the decision: whether to leave the ultimate cliché—a note—and what to say if she did. In the end, she decided to write a brief line on the back of an envelope in the waste paper bin. A pen, free from a pharmaceutical supplier, lay on the worktop. A purple felt tip. It would have to do. Was there really a right colour to write a good-bye? She wrote without thinking, for if she did, she’d never write at all. Nothing heavy, nothing to suggest he’d broken her heart, shattered her life. Just light and simple and brief.

Tom, Lukum yi bihain.

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I’m going so we won’t have to say good-bye. I hope you find peace—do what you have to do. Keira xx PS Don’t try and call me. It’s easier this way.

No “love”… If she’d felt less, she could have added it. But to add it here, when she felt so much, was too much. As she propped the note against the shiny coffeemaker, a numbness enveloped her that she hoped would last forever but knew would evaporate as soon as she’d driven out of the gates. She’d got to the kitchen door before creeping back and adding to the PS: Try to be kind to yourself. Keira knew it would be impossible for both of them.

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Chapter Fourteen

Tom took her at her word. In the weeks since she’d stolen out of his room at the Lodge, she hadn’t even had a text. He hadn’t called because she’d begged him not to in her note. That was the idea, to make a clean break and warn him off. Her stomach lurched, adding to the queasiness brought on by the heat and the crowds packing the shop where she was Christmas shopping with Su. What if Tom had already gone abroad? “Red or purple, hon, what do you think?” Keira turned her eyes on the bolts of silk Su was holding up in front of her. Even the clash of colours made her feel woozy, the dazzling dark blue, imperial mauve, gold and red. Crimson Lake, Yellow Ochre, just like the paint pots at school. There was Prussian blue too: just like Tom’s eyes. “Hey, are you with me in the shop or on another planet?” She managed a smile. Her friend deserved better than this, especially as the shopping trip was for her sake anyway. Su knew they’d split up; she just didn’t know why. “Sorry. They’re both stunning. Beautiful.” “Hmm. Maybe I should get both made up,” said Su, fingering the silken bolts which shimmered in the harsh lights of the store. Keira tried hard to concentrate. This wouldn’t do. She still wanted Tom so much it had started to make her ill. “Let’s decide over a drink,” said Su gently, laying a hand on her arm. “What’s it to be? Latte, mochaccino or just plain tea and a mince pie?” “Can I just have mineral water?” “Sure, but are you all right? I mean, is this Keira Grayson turning down a caffeine and sugar hit?” Keira tried to stifle the tide of heat and nausea rising through her. “Sorry, Su, it’s so stuffy in here. I feel a bit dehydrated.” “Water it is, then, and the going-away outfit can wait.”

Keira jumped out of her skin as the intercom buzzed out, sending her neatly arranged pile of papers fluttering from the sofa to the floor. She glanced at the clock above the mantelpiece. Was it half-past nine already? She must have been sitting here since dinner, if you could call a half-eaten bowl of cereal a dinner.

Fever Cure

She hesitated before answering. Already on the point of giving up on the application form for deputy head, she had abandoned the marking an hour ago. She wasn’t really doing justice to the children’s projects on the Tudors, creative though most of them were. Ben Chalmers’ painting of Henry VIII fighting pirates with a cutlass really was something. But even Ben at his most endearing couldn’t stop her mind from dwelling on what had happened earlier in her tiny bathroom. The turmoil of emotions, the creeping dread, and the sliver of hope, as she’d perched on the edge of the bath and waited. She’d watched every second of the three minutes tick by and then, holding her breath, peered at that little window on the indicator stick. She might have known, of course, that her cycle wasn’t as regular as she thought, especially not lately with all the excitement and worry over a new relationship with Tom. Nonetheless, she’d cried like a baby when she’d seen her suspicions confirmed by the blue lines in the indicator, even thought she’d already known it, deep in her heart. The intercom nagged again. A double buzz this time, impatient and demanding. She felt a jag of unease that didn’t help her swirling stomach. Who came calling at half-past nine? Double glazing salesmen? Hmm… That was a possibility. Or maybe her mum. If it was her mum, how the hell was she going to keep a straight face and hide the truth? Springing up from the sofa, she pressed the button. “Mum!” There was a pause, then a voice. Deep, rich and definitely not her mother. “It’s Tom.” Keira put her hand on the wall to steady herself. Her heart thudded wildly. Her mum turning up right now would have been bad enough, but Tom? That was a hundred times worse! Keeping her secret from the other side of the world was one thing, but lying to him face-to-face? How could she do it? “What do you want?” she said, shaky-voiced, against the intercom. “Let me in, and I’ll tell you.” “I don’t think it’s such a good idea.” “Please, Keira.” The metal speaker was misted with her breath. She leaned back against the wall and clenched her fists. The moment she’d seen the positive result, she knew what she must do; she just hadn’t banked on having to face him. Tom must never hear that she was carrying his child. If he knew before he went, he’d never go. He’d stay and care for her because it was his duty. And now she knew completely, now he’d told her what happened with Sarah, that the man she loved did duty and guilt better than anyone she’d ever known. His voice cut through her. “I’m not going away, Keira, so you may as well give in now. Unless you want a frozen body on the doorstep in the morning.” Her heart flipped. “That’s an interesting thought. Tempting, in fact, but I’m busy and going to bed.”

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“Both at once? Well, while I’m quite prepared to bed down here, there is an alternative. I could also use your spare key. At the back of the electricity meter cupboard, isn’t it?” Keira pressed the button, put her head in her hands and wailed inwardly. There was only one thing for it. She had to put on the performance of a lifetime.

Tom took the stairs two at a time, cursing as the plastic bag he was carrying bumped against the pushchair left by Keira’s neighbour. He heard the baby upstairs crying as he reached the landing and waited to be allowed inside. When the door finally opened, he was met by a woman whose unusually grave expression was a strange contrast to her pyjamas. If he wasn’t mistaken, they had cartoon rabbits romping over them. Her hair was scraped back in a ponytail, her face was free of makeup, and she looked so fragile and beautiful she almost took the breath from his body. He knew then, if he hadn’t known before, that he was lost. “Yes?” Her eyes regarded him unflinchingly, so different to the girl he’d first met in the churchyard. Back then he’d been arrogant, cool and confident, and she’d been awkward and embarrassed. Somehow, he felt their roles were reversed now, that she was in charge. “I wasn’t sure you were still in the UK.” “As you can see, at the moment, I am. There’s been a delay with my visa. Keira I got your note.” “Oh.” He saw something bloom on her face. Guilt? No, she mustn’t feel that, not for his sake. “I—I’m sorry about that. But you see, I wanted to avoid…this kind of a scene. If that makes me a coward, then I’m sorry, but I thought it was for the best,” she said. A coward? Her? No, he wouldn’t let her lay that on herself. “No,” he said firmly. “You don’t have to apologise or explain. After what you heard from me, you had every right to leave.” She lifted luminous blue eyes to him. Beautiful eyes like a tropical lagoon under a noonday sky. And yet, close up there were faint shadows under them. Had he caused this? Was it wrong to hope he had, and because of that, he still had a chance? She sounded dreadfully tired. “What happened? What you told me has nothing, and I mean nothing, to do with the way I left.” Tom raised his eyebrows and felt a tug of pure love. “It’s not that I don’t care about you, Tom. I do, of course I care. It’s just that I don’t know how to help you, and I thought it was for the best. I wanted to spare both of us any pain. You don’t need it with your new job ahead of you, and I certainly could do without any more upheaval. We’ve got Ofsted inspections coming up at school.” This was a new Keira, with steel in her voice, steel sheathed in velvet but every bit as unyielding.

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“Hear me out, please. I brought you this.” He held out his gift. It was wrapped in a supermarket plastic bag. It was all he had, but he hoped she would understand. Uncertainty flickered across her eyes like a breeze riffling the surface of a lagoon. She pulled off the bag with shaky hands and held it. “It’s beautiful,” she said, balancing it reverently on upturned palms. “It’s a story board,” he explained as she sat down and laid the carved wooden panel on her lap. She hadn’t asked him to sit. She didn’t want him lingering, he knew that, but he wouldn’t be put off. He’d say what he had to, had wanted to for almost as long as he’d known her and had admitted it to himself only when he’d finally allowed himself to speak of his pain and guilt at being comforted. Only in the morning when he’d found her note had he realised what he was about to lose or rather what he might be carelessly throwing away. Day and night since he’d last seen her, he’d turned it over in his mind until the tiny chink of light in his wall of guilt had opened a little farther. Until he’d admitted that he might take the first step to move on if she would walk alongside him. If he could persuade her to come with him to Papua… But now he felt sick. Like there was no glimmer of light, after all. That his way lay on the other side of the world, on his own. “It was carved in the village where I work,” he said quietly, as if speaking too loudly, moving too boldly, would frighten her. “It tells a story of day-to-day life there, such as fishing on the river, people working, cooking, and bringing up children. You see…” He pointed to two small figures playing by a boat, carved and painted in earthy shades of charcoal and chocolate, terracotta and russet. His eyes were drawn to her fingers as she traced the outlines of men and boats and animals, her thumb rubbing at the figures playing by a canoe. “It really is very special, Tom.” She stopped, and he was sure she could hear his heart beating. Even though he knew it to be impossible, that thudding in his chest, was it audible? She couldn’t hear, of course not, and she asked him softly, “How can you bear to part with it?” How can I bear to part with you, Keira? Those were the words that tore at him but stayed inside his heart, locked up and imprisoned forever now. “I wanted you to have something as a keepsake. To remember me by…and…” “That’s very sweet.” “Sweet?” he echoed. “Very, Tom. I’ll treasure it. Always.” It was still on her lap. Her soft fingertips were still resting on the figures by the boat. It had to be the moment… “And now”—her voice was so soft and gentle as she cut him through—“please, can you leave me? I can’t do good-byes. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.” Tom wanted to scream in frustration. She couldn’t do this. He had to say what he had come for, what he had agonized over since she’d left his bed in the cold morning after the dream.

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“Tom…” Her voice was so gentle and yet so devastating to his hopes. “It’s over between us.” His carefully rehearsed speech, the words he had struggled for so hard, froze on his lips. The questions he’d intended to ask evaporated. What if you came with me? Took a sabbatical from school? You could see how you like it; they’re crying out for teachers, wonderful teachers like you. I could do my job, and we could be together. It would be the best of both worlds. He only mouthed mechanically, “I just came to…tell you to take care. To see if you were okay and give you this gift.” “And it’s a wonderful farewell gift. What we’ve had has been incredible and amazing, but it’s time for us both to get back to reality.” But…there was always a but. Life could never be what he wanted, not even close. The idea that he could be together with her started to disappear like a ship on the horizon, and he was the man marooned on the desert island, a bone-dry dot of land, with no hope of ever seeing Keira again. “It’s been wonderful, but it’s time for us both to move on. You see”—she smiled ruefully at him from shining eyes—“I have plans too. Not as worthy or exciting as yours, but important to me. In fact”—she nodded at a pile of papers lying on the carpet—“I’ve applied for a deputy head’s job. That’s what I was doing when you called.” She smiled. “If I get it, I might even get a bigger flat.” He couldn’t speak, with all he wanted to say frozen on his lips. Keira, I need you. Come with me. Love me. It could never be. How could it have ever been? She had the final blow for him, and it felt as if she were twisting a knife into his heart. “Once upon a time, you know, I had my chance to move and live somewhere different and exciting. Someone else—my ex, Alex, he wanted me to go to Dubai with him. I didn’t, of course. I had Mum to look after, and it meant giving up everything. He didn’t understand. He tried to make me, in fact. He called me dull and boring and unadventurous. Well, he might have been right, but now I’m going to do something for me. Not very exciting, but that’s what I want from life.” “Keira, you have the right to everything you’ve ever dreamed of.” She gripped the contours of the story board again and wished with all her heart he would just disappear. He stayed solidly where he was, tall and strong and so very real. He pierced her with one of his looks, so intense that she thought he must be able to see into her eyes and beyond, to see that she loved him, that she was carrying his precious gift to her. “The man who called you that was wrong.” He wished that man had been there now so he could crush him. He felt an anger and loss of control he hadn’t before. “You are the bravest, sweetest person I know.” He looked at her, sitting there, holding his farewell gift, and he knew. She didn’t care about him enough to follow him, she didn’t love him, and that was his true punishment.

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She got to her feet and put the story board down on the sofa next to her. “Thanks for the adventure, but now it’s time for you to go on the next part of the journey without me. I’ll stay here and go on mine. Maybe in another time, another place, it might have worked out but not here and now.” As she said it, Keira thought she could hear her heart beating, and although it was impossible, that of the tiny life blooming inside her. Tom mustn’t know the truth. If he did, he’d stay, probably offer to marry her and maybe grow to despise her too for keeping him here against his will and judgment. She’d always know he’d stayed out of guilt and duty for just the same reasons he was going back to Papua now. She brushed the lips that had once kissed her so passionately, so hungrily, so many times before. “Good-bye, Tom,” she murmured. “Do what you have to do.” “You too,” he whispered, his breath warm against her cheek. “Good-bye, Keira.” Then he turned and opened the door to the flat and walked out, without looking backwards or uttering another word. She heard his footsteps growing quieter on the stairs until there was only silence. Keira did not go in for weeping as a rule. She saved that for major trauma and soppy films. For when her mum had told her she needed the biopsy, for instance, and for when the surgeon had given her the news that she was on the road to recovery. She saved crying for when she watched something really silly like Pretty Woman or Ghost. She saved her tears for the two extremes. The stuff that didn’t matter and the stuff that really, really did. Parting from Tom really, really mattered, and finally, after all these weeks, she knew she had to let her emotions out, otherwise she’d do it in school during the nativity play or in the playground or shopping or round at her mum’s for tea. Grabbing a box of tissues, she curled up under the duvet on her bed and waited. It took a whole hour, and finally it was the sound of an old diesel engine rattling past the window that did it. Before long, the pillow was soaked, her nose was running, and she knew, dimly, as she hurled her pain into the darkness, that her anguished howls must be breaking every noise rule in the flat’s lease. And she didn’t give a damn, not a single, bloody damn, she told herself as she ripped another fistful of tissues from the box. She didn’t care about anything at that moment but the fact that Tom was gone forever and she was carrying his child, and what on earth was she ever going to do?

Back at the Lodge Tom threw his keys on the kitchen table and leaned against the worktop. Keira’s note was still lying on the kitchen worktop where he’d left it, accusing him. It was stained with coffee now, the purple pen oozing into the paper, he’d read it so often. “Maybe in another time, another place—but not here and now.” That had been her final word to him as she’d practically pushed him out of the flat. Next to the note was an A4 manila envelope with a London postmark. He knew what it would be without opening it: an information pack and a contract to sign.

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Leaving was just a formality now, and yet he felt his gut twisting, an anger rising in his heart, his mind. He brought his arm down and swept the papers off the worktop, sending them flying onto the shiny tiles. It was three in the morning when he woke up cold and stiff on the sofa, having spent the rest of the evening checking through the kit in the dining room. In a few days, he was off to London to discuss the schedule for his new posting. He had to conquer this. He had work to do, and staff to brief ready for his new post. He owed it to the job to give 100%, and by Christmas he would be back in the village amongst the people who needed him. That was where his body belonged, and one day, if he worked as hard as he could, he hoped his heart and mind would follow too.

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Chapter Fifteen

Over the next few days, Keira tried her hardest to obliterate the pain of losing Tom by planning for the future. She’d put in her application for the deputy head’s job at a nearby school and tried to work out how she could afford a bigger flat with room for the baby. She’d have to go straight back to work and hope her mum would help out with the childcare, because she wasn’t sure she could afford a full-time nursery place. Of course, she had every right to ask Tom to pay for the child’s upbringing, but that was a last resort. The two of them would have to be out on the streets starving before she’d let him know about the baby. “Are you okay, hon?” In an effort to cheer her up, Su had asked her round to help hang some new curtains at her house, but she had had to climb down from the stepladder and sit on the sofa. “Yes. I’m fine.” Su dropped the curtain on the sofa and frowned. “You don’t look fine. I hope you’ve not got that bug that’s going round.” Keira managed a weak smile. “I’ve had every bug going. I’m a teacher, remember? I’m surprised I’m not immune by now.” “Well, you look pretty awful, and you’ve lost weight. Maybe you should make an appointment at the doctor’s. Oh. Shit. I’m sorry.” “I think I should steer well clear of doctors for a while. I’ll be fine. I just need a good night’s rest.” Su’s arms slid around her shoulders, and Keira gulped back a sob. “Keira, I am sorry, but it will pass, you know. You will get over him.” Accepting Su’s offer of a tissue, Keira blew her nose. “I know.” “At least you won’t have to see him every day at work or anything horrible like that.” Keira smiled at her friend’s practical logic. “That’s true, although I haven’t escaped entirely.” “What do you mean?” “I’ve got to pop round to the Lodge at some point.” “Why?” Keira gave a sigh. “Blame one of my pupils.” A few days later, Keira was very much blaming Ben Chalmers. She’d honestly thought she would never see Carew Lodge again, yet here she was guiding the car between the stone pillars at the entrance to the Carew estate.

Phillipa Ashley

It was the last place she wanted to be. She blinked against the winter sun, which was so low in the sky she was almost blinded as she drove down the track. Then the trees cast their long shadows over the car, and she could see all again, clearly. There it was, the old yew tree, standing proud and black by the mossy wall. It was a stunning morning, the kind of day where the sky was so deeply blue, the sun so bright, that it might have been tropical. The frost lying under the shadow of hedges bore witness to the fact that this was England in winter. Beautiful, stark and bone-numbingly cold. Changing down a gear, she anticipated the speed ramp and glided over with a soft bump. There was a gentle thud as the cardboard tube on the passenger seat rolled forward and dropped into the footwell. Keira felt her heart sink a little, hoping the picture inside would be safe. Then again, if it couldn’t survive a few miles on English roads, how would it ever make it to the rainforest? She was moments away from the Lodge now, her heart pounding and stomach churning. She was here against every better judgment, but she hadn’t been able to let down Ben. “Will you give this to Dr. Tom?” he’d begged her just yesterday as she’d been tidying the classroom desks on the last day of term. How busy she’d been, packing away books, barely glancing at the piece of paper he was holding out to her proudly. “Please, Miss. I spent ages doing it,” he’d pleaded, and she’d reminded herself. She was a teacher, and Ben was a student who deserved her attention, no matter how preoccupied she was with her private life. She’d spread the picture on the desktop and had to stop her hand flying to her mouth. She could have wept at the bright flowers, the brown river and the huts on stilts. In the foreground was a tall man surrounded by children. “Do you like it, Miss?” “It’s amazing, Ben. Beautiful—truly.” Her fingers lingered on the man. “That’s Dr. Tom,” he’d said, pointing at the figure, “giving out medicine to the children…and that’s a giant spider,” he’d told her proudly. “And that’s a dugong.” Keira gave him a big smile. A dugong in the river, she thought to herself. How Tom would love that. “No pirates?” “Don’t be silly, Miss. There are no such things.” She could see him, waiting hopefully for her answer as she stood at the table with a silly expression on her face. “Will you give it to Dr. Tom?” “I don’t know, Ben, he’s gone back to Papua now.” His lip began to tremble. Ben, who never cried, not even when he’d broken his wrist playing football for the school. If it meant that much to him…and she knew it would mean so much to Tom. She had the story board. Why shouldn’t he have something just as unique to remember her and the children by?

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“I tell you what, Ben. I’ll post it to him,” she’d said, knowing she had no address for him, not even a mobile or e-mail. So here she was. She could have phoned Charlie, of course, or e-mailed him, but he would have asked her round anyway, and with Tom safely on his way to Papua, there would be no chance encounter this time and no run that accidentally on purpose brought him to her feet. As she drew level with the tree by the gate, she stopped the car and wound down the window. Wrinkling her nose, she smelled the tang of wood smoke on the flinty air. Someone had a fire going. Then she heard the whine and rattle of an engine as it tried to splutter into life. It sounded like a hopeless task, judging by the way it tailed off after a few seconds. Terminal, Tom would have said. Her heart beat faster as she opened the car door and got out, the cold air a slap in the face after the blast of the car heater. Over the hedge, she could see the Land Rover clearly. A tall, dark man was opening the driver’s door and climbing down deftly from the seat. Walking to the front of the car, he wrenched up the heavy bonnet and propped it up on its metal rod. Her heart dropped to her boots as Charlie Carew caught sight of her and waved. Keira exhaled, her breath a cloud of white vapour in the clear air. The danger had passed, and surely that feeling, like a lump of stone in her stomach, was relief, not bitter disappointment? It had to be relief that Tom was not there, because her store of strength had been used up the night he’d brought her the story board. If she ever had to come face-to-face with him again, she wouldn’t be able to hold back her secret any longer. How could she have been silly enough to have thought that Tom was at home? He wasn’t even in England, let alone at the Lodge. Besides, what business would he have trying to resurrect an old vehicle he would never need to use again? “Hello there, Keira!” Charlie was walking towards her now, wiping his oily hands on an even oilier rag and grinning. “What brings you here? It’s marvellous to see you.” She summoned her best sports-day smile and allowed him to kiss her cheek. “I meant to drive straight to the hall, but I saw you here, and I have a favour to ask.” A look of puzzlement crossed his face, but he hid it well and was beaming again. “Anything, darling. Just name it.” He had given up on the oily rag now and was trying to wipe his hands on his jeans as she held out the cardboard tube. “I’ve brought this for Tom.” “Ah.” He stopped wiping his hands, and his mouth twisted. “I’m afraid he’s already gone, but then you knew that, didn’t you?”

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She nodded mutely. Of course he had, and that was good, wasn’t it? Hearing it said out loud started the hot tears pricking at the back of her eyes. Oh, no, please, don’t let me cry in front of Charlie. Dragging a tissue from her pocket, she blew her nose noisily. “Are you okay?” “Fine. It’s just the cold.” Charlie’s face, full of kind concern, was going a fair way to setting her off again. “We should go inside,” he said. No. Not inside the Lodge. That would make things ten times worse. To see the place where they’d laughed and made love and shared their lives, if only for a short time. It couldn’t be. “I won’t come in, if you don’t mind, but I’m glad I caught you. I knew Tom had left, and I just wanted to see if you could send this on to him. It’s from the children at my school.” Charlie took one look at the tube and laughed. “That’s one hell of a packet of Smarties.” She had to smile at this, even though she felt wretched inside. “It’s a painting done by one of the children in my class. Ben Chalmers. You might have met him. He came to the adventure day.” “Daring, cheeky blond?” “That’s him.” “How could I forget? And yes, I know all about the talk Tom gave. He mentioned it rather more often than you’d think, Keira.” She saw now how uncomfortable he looked, his eyes full of something like pity— which had to be worse than anything. It was time to get rid of the painting and get out of here. “Ben painted it for Tom when he heard that he was going away, and I promised I’d bring it. I thought you could make sure he gets it.” “Of course I will. I know Tom will be touched.” Why didn’t he take it from her and let her leave. Why? “Look… I am so sorry…” “About what?” “About Tom leaving. I tried everything to get him to stay, you know, and I thought he would stay, but he’s so stubborn, so hell-bent on thinking he can save the world single-handed. I’m afraid he’s gone back there for all the wrong reasons.” Shaking her head, she pasted on a smile of sorts. “It’s not your fault, and besides, I’m fine. I always knew the score. We both did. What could you have done?” “Helped him more. Listened. Not taken ‘no’ for an answer. I assume you know about that business with Sarah and David.” She nodded.

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“He wouldn’t let anyone talk to him and refused to see a counselor. In fact, he blew up whenever I tried to make him see it wasn’t his fault. But I thought you might have got through to him… Keira, I know how much he cared for you—how much he still does.” Keira wanted the ground to open now. Charlie was lovely, he really was, but every sympathetic word cut her to the bone. A shiver ran through her. Charlie threw the rag on the bonnet. “You’re frozen. Come inside and get warm by the fire.” “No, I can’t. Please just take the picture for me.” His voice was kind now, as if he were trying to persuade a child to take its medicine. He held up his blackened palms. “Of course, darling, but I can’t take it with these. You’ve come all this way. Come into the Lodge.” Her shoulders slumped, and she gave in. These days she didn’t even have the energy to protest. It must have something to do with her pregnancy, but it seemed far beyond that. The weariness seemed to have seeped into her very soul. The Lodge looked so inviting and mellow as she followed Charlie to the porch. The soft winter sunlight cast honeyed beams on the stone façade. If only she could have stayed here forever with Tom. His lover, his wife, mother to a baby son or daughter. But that was ridiculous. Fairy tales did not happen to ordinary girls like her. She’d known that at the start, and now it had been graven in stone as surely as the name plate by the door. She would have to manage on her own, just as her mum had done. Charlie showed her into the drawing room, insisting she sit in the armchair next to the fledgling flames of a log fire. “Has Ted made this up?” she asked. He smiled. “No, I have, so don’t be surprised if it goes out.” He showed her a dirty hand. “Look, I won’t be a mo, but this oil’s a bugger to get off.” As he disappeared into the kitchen, Keira held her hands up to the fire, wincing as the fierce heat brought the blood tingling to her fingertips. The chaise longue was empty now, the cushions plumped and neatly arranged, not strewn on the carpet like the night they’d made love on it and over it. Above the fire, the ninth earl and his lady still stood together, nervous, unsure and silent. A log split and cracked in the hearth, sending a shower of sparks into the grate. The noise made her jump, and she realised then. This really was no place for her. It was time to go, and she hoped Charlie would understand. She murmured to the painting above the mantelpiece, “I have to go. I just can’t hold back any longer.” “What can’t you hold back, Keira?” It was that voice. In the quiet of the room, above the gentle hiss of the fire, it rang out deep and clear and set her spine tingling. Her back was to the door, her face warm from the glow of the fire, and she dared not, could not, turn round. Her legs had frozen up, and it wasn’t frostbite that had caused it. There was a

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dull thud like something heavy being dropped on the floor. She heard footsteps coming over to her chair; then they stopped behind her. Then long, strong fingers threaded their way through her hair, lifting it and letting it fall gently again. “What can’t you hold back, Keira, darling?” She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the chair back as his hands drifted through her hair, softly, gently… It can’t be him. I’m imagining it, hallucinating, I’ve fallen asleep in front of the fire and I must be dreaming…and she was right, there were no fingers winnowing her hair now, so it must be a dream. Instead, they were pressing her chilled hands together now, half roughly, half gently, rubbing them back to life. “You’re not here,” she said through a husky throat. “You can’t be here, Tom.” “I can assure you I am, and if you open your eyes, I’ll prove it.” It was the sting of tears in her lashes that stopped her believing him. He knelt in front of her, not quite in focus, but what she could see of him was as inviting and as dangerous as ever. She was in serious danger of blubbing. “Charlie said you’d gone.” “Only as far as London. Now I’m back.” Back for a day? A week? She didn’t have the strength for this. She refused to have another parting, she told herself, even as he tried to wipe a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. His voice was like dark honey. “Keira.” “That’s for you.” Waving her hand in the direction of the cardboard tube on the coffee table, she managed to push herself onto legs that weren’t frozen now but had turned to jelly. She pushed Tom away roughly, nudging him off balance just enough to get free. She stumbled across the room, bumping into the sofa as she tried to reach the door to the hall. Then, somehow, Tom was there, blocking the way to the door, a solid wall of muscle and power. He spoke to her, but she couldn’t hear him properly above the noise in her ears. “Let me go,” she called as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, one arm round her waist, the other supporting her arm. The rough cloth of his suit pressed against her hot, wet cheek as she hid her face against his chest. “No.” He had to release her. He had to. She struggled, her fists screwed into tight little balls as she tried to hit him. “Keira, you have to stop this and let me speak to you.” He didn’t sound angry, but he wouldn’t let her go. She didn’t want to have to look at him and face that intense midnight gaze, yet she couldn’t help hearing his voice, deep and gentle yet commanding, which made her mad as hell. “Stop being so bloody bossy, Tom! You never let up, do you?” she thundered against his chest. “Stop being so bloody bossy. Now I know you’re angry with me.”

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Her head flew back, and she stared at him defiantly and wished she hadn’t. Because he was worse than ever, searching, probing her, defying her to leave him. Why? What could he possibly want with her now? After he’d shattered her heart into a thousand tiny pieces that would never be put back together. “I only brought the picture because I promised Ben. If ever I’d known you were here, I would never have come.” She knew she was babbling, but her words had stirred something within the mush that was her brain. “Why are you here, Tom?” “Why are you, Keira?” “Where’s Charlie?” she asked mutinously. Still, he had her fast in his arms, and it all felt so annoying and macho and like being wrapped in a rough, warm, comforting coat that was way too big for her. “I don’t know, but if he was here and he heard me, I guess he made a smart exit out of the garden door.” Keira wanted to howl out the pain and anguish he had brought into her life, all the sleepless nights, the legacy he had left her which she loved and feared for all at the same time. “We need time. We’ve always needed time to be alone together and to sort things out.” Sort things out? How could they sort out the mess they were in? She with a secret baby on the way. Tom hell-bent on the guilt trip of a lifetime. How had she ever let things come to this? How had he? “Let’s sit down.” He had her hand so tightly in his, his strong, big hand around her small one, leading her to the sofa, urging her to sit next to him and be warm and comforted. She knew then that her strength was almost gone. Maybe had already gone, every last shred. Tom saw the bottom lip jutting out, the blazing eyes, and his whole world shifted on its axis. So this was love. He knew that now more certainly than he’d ever known anything in his life. He’d thought he knew he was to blame for Sarah’s death, but now he knew that was self-delusion, guilt and grief. What he felt for Keira was deep, unstoppable love, and it was the most frightening, out-of-control feeling he’d ever known. Why was Keira here? Please, please, let it be for him. She hadn’t run out on him again yet, and he wouldn’t give up without a fight this time. He wouldn’t let her leave until he’d sacrificed every last breath in his body.

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Chapter Sixteen

“Tell me why you came to the Lodge, Keira? You said you promised someone… Who did you promise? Was it to see Charlie?” “Well, it sure wasn’t to see you,” she said, delivering a body blow a hundred times harder than her fists against his chest. “Because I knew you weren’t here. Charlie said you’d already gone.” “I had gone, but only as far as London, and now, as you can see, I’m back. I’ll explain in a moment. First, I need to know why you came here.” She still looked mutinous, and beneath her eyes there was uncertainty and pain. His blood ran cold. That was pain he’d caused, and he wondered how he could ever make up for it. “Like I said, I brought you a painting from Ben Chalmers. He begged me to bring it, and I said I’d ask Charlie to make sure you got it. He was almost in tears when I said no, so I had to promise I’d deliver it personally.” All Tom could do was thank every star in the heavens for Ben and his persistence. That boy had saved him a trip to Keira’s flat, because that was where he’d been headed after he’d come home from London, changed and planned how he would be able to convince her that he loved her—and find out if she could ever love him the same way. Her rejection of him at the flat had tormented him every minute of the past few days; he felt he’d walked away too easily, let her off too lightly. He’d made a decision now about his future, and he had to see if she would ever be part of it. “Let’s look at this picture, shall we?” He pulled the stopper from the end of tube and carefully extracted the sheet of paper inside and spread it apart on the coffee table with both hands. He caught his breath. Forget the works of art that lined Carew Hall. This picture was beyond price. It was as bright and bold and beautiful as the woman who sat next to him now. He saw the trees and the river, recognised the dugong and the spider and the man surrounded by children. A broad smile spread over his face. “Is this meant to be me?” Keira nodded, and his stomach clenched as he saw the gleam of tears in her eyelashes. “There seems to be someone missing, Keira.” Her head was bowed. “Someone important.” Look at me, he begged silently. Please look and see how much I love you… “You should be part of this picture.”

Fever Cure

She shook her head. “I can’t. It’s hopeless.” Hopeless? He knew she was right in one respect, because some situations were hopeless and there really was nothing you could do. Sometimes, not even giving your whole life for those you loved would turn back the clock, but for those who were left behind, there had to be hope that life could change, that you could move on. This woman, sitting here, looking pale and tired and absurdly beautiful, had brought about a seismic shift in his life. “Do you remember what you said to me after I called at the flat?” he asked her. “Maybe in another time, another place, it might have happened for us.” He let the painting lie on the table now and took her hands again. “What if there was another time, another place?” He’d taken a big leap of faith yesterday in David Garside’s office as he’d reached for the perfect prize he wanted more than anything in the world, and now he took an even bigger one. “I went to the new Chief Officer at Volunteers Abroad, and I told him I couldn’t go back to Papua, after all.” Her eyes flew open wide, and he felt her pulse race away. “Oh, Tom…” “I told him that I was very sorry, but I had something I had to take care of that was more important to me than anything in the world.” His heart thudded now, as hard as if he’d raced a marathon. “That something is you.” Tom knew she must be able to feel every single racketing beat of his heart, because she had her arms around him and he could hardly believe the strength of the hug she gave him, the feel of her small fingers on his back. Stroking her hair, he let it all out, all the emotion he’d kept stoppered up since the moment he’d taken her in his arms at the wedding. That morning, waiting outside David Garside’s office at the headquarters of Volunteers Abroad, he’d felt remarkably calm. He’d thought he was in control as he’d rehearsed the speech he’d spent a whole night running through. Then that door had opened, and the familiar figure of David, his friend, thinner and older than Tom had remembered, had gazed down at him. “Tom.” His rehearsed words had rushed headlong out of his mind, but he knew he was doing the right thing in trying one last time to make his peace with David. “Keira, I don’t know if I’ve made a huge mistake. I hope not, from the way you’re holding me now. I’ve certainly taken a huge risk, for I don’t know whether you feel that you can be here with me.” Gently settling his hand under her chin and tilting back her head to look at him, he whispered, “That night I came to the flat with the story board—I planned to ask you to come to Papua with me.” Her body shuddered in his arms, and she groaned out loud. “No.”

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“I knew you wouldn’t have come with me, that you have your life here. It was wrong of me to even think it.” “If you had asked me, I…” She faltered as she thought again of the tiny life flowering inside her, knowing he still had no idea what they had created. “You would have said no. I know that. I heard you loud and clear.” “But I didn’t mean that. It isn’t what you think.” “No. I asked far too much. Back there in the flat, I know I only offered you part of me, a part with so many strings attached and a ton of baggage. Well, now I’m offering you the whole sorry, inept package. If you’ll take it. I love you, Keira.” “Oh, Tom.” The tidal wave of love and relief that washed through her threatened to sweep her off her feet. Literally, she felt very unsteady in the leg department, and holding on to Tom might be the only thing keeping her upright. Much as she loved him, she didn’t think it warranted passing out, but then again…Tom loved her. He loved her, and surely this was the most wonderful feeling anyone could ever experience. “Believe me Tom, I—I love you too. I’ve loved you for so long, and because I love you, because I care about you so much, I know you can’t give up everything for me. Your job means so much to you, and you said you needed it, to go back and put things right.” She had to say it, had to remind him of the intensity of that desire and need and guilt. “I can’t compete with the needs of so many people. It would be wrong and selfish, and even though I…” “Even though what?” His hopes hung suspended on the thread of her answer. Her blue eyes seemed brighter than ever now, lit by the glow of the fire, the sunlight filling the room. “Even though I love you, I can’t take you away from that. It would be like cutting off part of you, and I want you whole.” Now it was his turn to hold her more tightly than was good for her. “I’ve thought about this night and day since I left you at the flat. I can still help people. I’ve taken a job as a GP here, and as for Volunteers Abroad”—he smiled ruefully—“there’s a rather large trust fund set up for me by my father, and it’s been untouched since my medical studies. I’m afraid that can probably be even more useful than I can, and I can supervise the administration of it myself.” “But will you be happy staying here?” “I’ll still be able to go out and see how my money’s helping the charity. I can act as a consultant. You can come with me, if you want to.” “Can you listen to me for once? I want, have always wanted, the Tom I met at the wedding. The one who’s hell-bent on saving the world, though not always succeeding.” He groaned in shame, and she laughed.

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Fever Cure

“Like I said, I want the whole Tom, wherever he is.” “You’re right, and I knew that. The people I try to help are an important part of what I am, but you are the part that makes me whole. You’ve made me realize that being needed by lots of people is a glorious thing, but being needed by one special person is everything.” As he held her, she felt steamrollered by her changing emotions. Here she was in Tom’s arms, and he’d told her he loved her, had changed plans for her that were once as fixed as the North Star. The new role he had forged for himself, the compromise that made the impossible, possible—that she could understand. But what about the real demon he’d been battling? The one she’d seen him wrestle with—and lose to—that night in bed together when his nightmare had haunted them both. How could they come to terms with that? He read her mind. Her frown, the uncertainty clouding her eyes. “If you’re wondering what’s changed, it’s me. Keira, I said the new chief officer had agreed to me changing my role. That new chief officer is David, Sarah’s fiancé. Yes, I went up to London to change my plans—resign, if I had to—but also to do what I should have done before.” “Perhaps you weren’t ready before.” “Perhaps not.” He smiled. “Perhaps neither of us was, but yesterday David and I took the first step and made a start. We still have a lot more talking to do, maybe a lifetime. You know what men are like.” Later, maybe tomorrow, he would tell her about the first tentative words between them. The hours spent in David’s office, then in the park talking, sometimes with raised voices, about the day they’d both left Sarah behind. It had hurt like hell for both of them, and he didn’t mind admitting that he’d gone back to his hotel and let out his emotions in a way he never wanted anyone to see. All that, he would tell Keira in time. There would be no secrets between them ever again.

“I don’t really know what men are like,” she echoed, brushing his jawline with her lips, finding it rough with stubble. “I know what this one is like, and he’s shaved in a hurry this morning.” He looked rueful. “I was in a hurry to see you. I came home to wait until the end of school. I was going to wait outside the gates for you.” She felt her eyes welling up again and something else. She felt tired. Not in the weary, desperate way she had when she’d followed Charlie into the Lodge, but in a drowsy way that made her limbs feel like the bones had all been removed. A delicious feeling of warmth and love. “Tom, I love you,” she whispered. His voice sounded much farther away as she let herself sink against his chest. “Keira, I’ve got something for you in the car. Something you forgot that night at the restaurant…”

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“My rose.” “Not quite.” He smiled. “But close. I picked it up today in Covent Garden. I was being presumptuous again.” She screwed up the tissue and felt the tears spilling out and flowing down her face. “Tom, please don’t make me cry.” He ignored her and stroked her hair, kissing her softly on the lips. “I’d also like to ask you if you’d ever consider at some point in the future, putting up with me for good?” She really did feel tired, all her emotions spent. There was a buzzing sound in her ears again, and she couldn’t make sense of it. Had he actually asked her to marry him? She must be hallucinating. “Keira? Are you okay?” “Tom I feel…” The room seemed dimmer, and she really was convinced she was falling asleep. “I feel funny.” His voice was sharper now. “Do you mean faint? Or dizzy? Sick?” “A bit dizzy.” “You look pale. When did you last eat?” “Last night.” “What about breakfast?” No, no breakfast, she thought grimly. She’d been too busy trying not to throw up, but that might happen now anyway. She pushed herself to her feet, her hand over her mouth, then passed out.

It was really, really bright when she came to, and she seemed to be half lying on the sofa. And Tom was here, and he was doing something to her… He was feeling her pulse, and he had a bloody stethoscope out. This was the most embarrassing thing, much worse than the thong incident. “Get off me,” she mumbled, trying to push his hand away. He gave her a look so stern that it stopped her right there and then. “Well?” she asked. “Your pulse is rather fast, but then again, it’s been hammering away for the past fifteen minutes.” “You’ve been checking up on me!” “Try and stay calm. It’s not good for you to get so excited.” “It’s not funny.” “Just keep still.” He reached into the bag at his feet and pulled out a blood pressure cuff. “No way,” she said firmly as he set it on the table. “I need to check your BP.” He pushed up her sleeve and fastened the cuff round her arm.

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“Don’t fuss, Tom, please, I’m fine.” “Keira?” “Um,” she said mutinously. “Open your mouth.” He pushed a thermometer inside. “Now be quiet.” She let him do his stuff. She was in no state to protest, but now she knew it was time to tell him her secret. Her cheeks heated further. Now all the guilt was hers at having even dreamed of keeping the baby a secret from him. There was a sharp rip as he pulled off the cuff. He took the thermometer from her lips. “Well?” she murmured as a lurch of concern for the baby tugged at her. “Your BP is almost normal.” “Told you.” “Better to be safe. I’d still like to know why you feel faint and sick. Maybe asking you to marry me wasn’t such a good idea.” “So you did say that thing about marrying me?” “Absolutely. But if we do at some point, I wish you’d take care of yourself more. Going without breakfast is not a good idea. Maybe I should do some more checking,” he insisted. He reached into his bag and brought out one of those things doctors used to examine your eyes. The exact word escaped her fuzzy mind. “There’s no need for this, Tom. Trust me.” “Will you always be this much trouble?” He smiled as he held up the ophthalmoscope to her eyes. “When we’re living in the same house?” He was literally two inches from her nose. “Keira, stop twitching. I need to check your vision.” “There is nothing wrong with my vision.” “Let me be the judge of that.” She let him focus on her pupils for a few seconds. “Tom, there’s nothing wrong with my vision. I’m just a bit shocked at you being here at all and proposing, and also…” She took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.” Slowly, shakily, he lowered the instrument. She shook her head, touched his arm and smiled. “Who looks pale now?” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Did you hear what I said, Tom? We’re going to have a baby.” Tom managed to squeeze out his answer, somehow, though he was sure his vocal cords, his diaphragm, his tongue had seized up completely. “Yes, I heard.” “That night at the hall. My cycle wasn’t as predictable as I’d thought.” His voice died in his throat. Her cycle? He knew he should have asked more, or rather he was glad he’d been reticent and irresponsible. He and Keira were having a baby. It was a simple fact of human

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reproduction that happened to billions of people the world over, and now it was happening to him, it seemed the most rare and precious miracle. He could hardly bear to look at her as emotion welled up inside him. “How long have you known?” “A few weeks.” “When I came to the flat?” She nodded. “When were you going to tell me?” He had to ask, even though he knew how it would torment him to know how close he’d come to losing her and abandoning everything he loved for a misplaced sense of duty and a blind, selfish obsession with his own pain. Then he looked at her, saw the anguish in her blue eyes, and knew he had to push his guilt aside again for both their sakes. “Tom, I just couldn’t tell you that night, because if I had, you would have stayed.” “You’re damn well right I would!” Seeing her face drop, he hugged her against him. “I didn’t want to make you do anything. I loved you. I have for a long time, but I don’t want any man to stay with me out of pity or duty.” He groaned out loud. To think he might have lost both of them… “Oh, sweetheart.” “It was wrong, but you see, I didn’t know how you felt back then.” “Having you and a baby is more, far more than I ever expected or deserved from life. It’s the most wonderful thing in the world, and I’m never going to let you go.” He held her tightly, hoping she couldn’t see the tears in his eyes, and quietly waited for the scalding feeling of them to go away so he could look at her beautiful face and tell her again how much he loved her.

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Epilogue

Eighteen months later “Tom…” “Um.” “What was that noise last night?” “What noise, Keira?” “That flapping thing in the hut after you had…” She shivered with remembered desire. She couldn’t say out loud what he had been doing, but it had, partly, taken her mind off the noises. “That thud and the scurrying noise?” Tom smiled as he helped her into the canoe. The river was a glassy mirror reflecting thatched-roof huts on stilts, and behind them the jungle swayed slowly in the thick, hot breeze. “The flapping and the thuds were probably fruit bats hitting the wall. The scurrying was probably mice. Maybe you had a nightmare, and no wonder after what you got up to yesterday.” Her lip jutted out. “Ow!” She felt his fingers tap lightly on the small of her back. The tattoo she’d had the day before had hurt like hell. In fact, it had had to be turned into a teeny tiny flower, not the gorgeous butterfly she’d intended. “I don’t believe you about the mice,” she said, laughing. “No mouse in England ever made a racket like that. You’re just teasing me.” He squeezed her hand. “I decided discretion was the better part of valour. Now smile,” he said, “and wave.” Keira lifted her hand as they waved their farewells to the villagers they’d been staying with for the past week. When they’d arrived, palm fronds and oranges had adorned the balcony of their guesthouse, and there were coconuts, heavy with sweet water, waiting for them. She could see why Tom loved these people, this place, and she wanted their son to share it. “I wish Henry could see all this…” she said. “He will. One day,” said Tom firmly, feeling that fierce twinge of joy and pain that struck him at unexpected moments. He was happy he’d shared this place with Keira, even if it meant they’d had to leave little Henry with his grandmother and uncles for three long weeks. He’d wanted so much for his wife to

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share this experience, and she’d been incredible with the children as he’d supervised the new medics he’d helped to fund. Now, like her, he ached to be with his baby son again. He turned to Keira and saw her eyes, knowing she was thinking exactly the same as him. Then he cradled her beautiful face in his hands and kissed her, long and deep, as the canoe wobbled away from the bank.

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About the Author

Phillipa Ashley read English at Oxford University before working as a freelance copywriter and journalist and is the author of five romantic novels. Her first book, Decent Exposure (Dating Mr. December in the US), topped the Play.com romance charts and won the UK Romantic Novelists Association New Writers Award 2007. It was later adapted into a Lifetime movie called “Twelve Men of Christmas”, starring Kristin Chenoweth and Josh Hopkins. Phillipa lives in a Staffordshire village with her husband and daughter but also spends part of the year in the English Lake District. www.phillipa-ashley.com www.facebook.com/phillipa.ashley Follow her on Twitter @PhillipaAshley

The heart takes no prisoners.

Secrets and Seduction © 2011 Jane Beckenham The only emotion Leah Grainger can muster when thinking of her dead husband is relief. Until she learns his gambling debt threatens her beloved farm and the child she wanted to protect from the rootless existence she grew up with. The last straw? Her husband’s brother demands a meeting. When she charges into his office to tell him she won’t let another Grainger screw up her life, the startlingly handsome, former oil rig wildcatter goes for the jugular. He’s claimed legal guardianship of her daughter, bought her mortgage…and he’s moving in. The final email Mac received from his suicidal brother blamed Leah for everything. If it’s the last thing he does, he plans to protect his niece. Even if it means using his millions to gain the upper hand. And hardening his heart against the beautiful Leah’s protests of innocence. Yet something seems off. Leah is nothing like the uncaring woman his brother described. She’s warm, loving…and when a new threat to her child surfaces and she reaches out to him in need, his body won’t let him say no. Even when her last secret forces him to make a decision that exposes his most closely guarded possession. His heart. Warning: Contains tug-your-heart love, raise-the-roof lust, a marriage of convenience and hot sex that will give a whole new meaning to the word “wildcatter.”

Enjoy the following excerpt for Secrets and Seduction: Mac Grainger leant against the porch railing, arms folded across his broad chest. He stared at her, full mouth curling at the corners. Leah swallowed back the sudden lump in her throat. He’d changed from the suit he’d worn at his office into a pair of jeans and Polo shirt, making him appear deceptively approachable. Almost—because Leah knew Mac Grainger wasn’t a man to toy with. A few yards behind him, parked beneath the copse of cabbage trees, was a red Ferrari. Expensive, classic, with a hint of the devil. She shouldn’t have expected anything different. Leah backed up a step, hoping the shadow cast from the overhanging trees would hide the shock she felt heating her cheeks. “What are you doing here?” “Exactly what I said I would. I take my role as uncle seriously.” The bush she’d been holding slid from her grip and landed at her feet. “You can’t just walk in here any time you like. This is my property. I’ll…”

He stepped away from the porch and took a few steps toward her. “I’m not going away, Leah. We need to talk.” She glanced to the house. Charlee, please stay asleep. “Not now. Not here,” she countered. He came another step closer. “You can’t run away.” Could he read her mind? “You don’t get a choice, Leah,” he reminded her. Choice. That word highlighted their differences. Rich versus stone broke. “We can talk here,” she prevaricated. “We could, but we won’t.” “Pardon?” “Look, why make this harder than it has to be?” “It’s already hard. I don’t want you here.” “And I told you I’m not going away. So I guess we’re at an impasse.” For the count of several heartbeats, his dark eyes held her captive. He wasn’t about to budge. Somehow she had to get him on her side and appeal to his better nature. Did he have one? Of that, Leah wasn’t certain. He was, after all, Curtis’s brother. Steadying her nerves, she exhaled a choppy breath and wiped her hands down her jeans. She hooked her gaze with his, tilting her chin up a tad higher. “Five minutes. That’s all. Then you go.” She jumped off the back of the pickup and walked right past him, refusing to offer a whiff of weakness, even though resignation soured in her stomach and desperation constricted every breath. She took the front steps two at a time up to the wooden porch, where she peeled off her gumboots, entered her house and switched the light on in the entry hall. A crackle of electricity exploded above her, a current shooting from her fingertips and up her arm. “Ouch.” She yanked her hand back. The bulb above flickered momentarily, then a loud popping sound bounced off the walls, and the bulb died, sending the hall into darkness. “Damn.” “Problem?” “Nothing I can’t handle,” she snapped. Darn it. How many more bulbs would blow? “I might as well take out shares in the company that makes those blasted bulbs,” she grumbled. “It’s an old house and dates back to the eighteen hundreds. There’s bound to be…problems,” she said, unsure why she was trying to explain the shortcomings of her dilapidated house. “So get them fixed,” he countered. If only it were that easy. “Follow me.” She beckoned to Mac and led him down the hallway and into the welcoming kitchencum-dining-and-lounge area, grateful no more bulbs exploded overhead.

Leah knew he followed. She felt him right behind her, just as she’d done when she’d left his office. It was a sensation that was disconcerting and scarily exciting at the same time. Mac Grainger didn’t exactly frighten her, though she was uncertain what he really knew or didn’t know about Charlee. But she did, however, fear his power and what he could take away. A coffee, a chat, then she’d see him out. Easy. Confident she could cope with at least that, she washed her hands at the sink, wiped them on the towel she kept close by and busied herself in the kitchen. She reached for two mugs from a cupboard and, without asking him, tossed a spoonful of coffee into each. “Sugar?” she queried, holding a sugar bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. He shook his head. He stood at the entrance to her tiny kitchen, so close that heat burned off him. Her mouth dried, and she slid her tongue across parted lips, only to catch him watching her like a falcon focused on its prey. “You don’t have to stand guard, Mr. Grainger. I’m not running.” “Yet,” he answered smoothly. Nerves spun taut, her fragile control tilted precariously. She directed her attention to the steam rising from the kettle, though her awareness of him burgeoned as she tried desperately to remember what, if anything, Curtis had said about him. Though in truth, her husband’s brother had barely rated a mention during their marriage, and while Curtis had been good-looking, charming her easily, Mac doubled the quota in the good-looks department. She peered at him through the wispy steam rising from the kettle. He was tall, imposing and sexy as hell, and even though it shouldn’t, her heart did a flurry of flipflops. Don’t let him charm you, Leah! The kettle’s reedy whistle echoed across the silence, breaking her thoughts, which was just as well. Those sorts of thoughts weren’t a good idea, and she chastised herself for even noticing him. She filled both cups and handed one to him, holding hers with both hands so he wouldn’t see them shaking. She walked right past him and back into her tiny lounge and stood beside the rough-hewn table. “I’m not letting you walk in here on a whim, so you can get that idea right out of your head, Mr. Grainger.” He took a sip from his coffee, his expression unreadable. “Tough. Curtis asked me to look out for her.” Leah’s heart constricted. “Why?” “Because I’m his brother and Charlee’s uncle.” Focusing on keeping her voice calm and controlled, she put her cup down on the table. “And I was his wife. As far as I’m aware, you’ve never been around, too busy for family. Curtis died weeks ago. Where were you then?”

Instead of answering her, he scanned the room, and Leah found herself bristling, knowing what he saw: the faded and peeled paintwork, a tired house in need of repair. She challenged him with an upward flick of her chin. “It’s not much, but it’s mine.” His gaze returned to her, his mouth severe. “Not quite.” “Pardon?” “Running this place must take a lot of time, energy and money.” He pointed toward her mail scattered on the table. The mail she didn’t want to read. Bills she couldn’t pay. “I’m not complaining.” “Borrowing money, spending it when you know you can’t pay it back.” He wagged a finger at her as if she were a spoilt child. “Tut, tut.” A sting of heat curled across her skin. “That’s not true.” “I’m no fool. You’re Curtis’s wife.” “His widow,” she corrected. “He said you never had enough money.” Leah met Mac’s gaze full on. Big mistake. He stepped closer. Not so close that he touched her, but still too close, his expression unyielding and full of condemnation. But it was her reaction to him that scared her the most. The awareness that fired up all over again. She shook her head, willing away thoughts that had no right being there, and backed up. “I’ve seen the loan documents, Leah. Your signature is quite clear, and according to an interesting conversation I had with Curtis’s solicitor, your big problem runs into five digits.” Leah’s shoulders slumped, and Mac bit out a harsh laugh, his tone as arrogant and brutal as the expression he wore. “Finally, I’ve got your attention.” “You have no right to nose into something that doesn’t concern you.” “You’re wrong. As Charlee’s uncle, I’ve made it my business. I promised Curtis to look out for his daughter.” “His… Curtis barely registered her existence.” Mac frowned, but even her uttering the truth didn’t swerve him from his self-proclaimed purpose. “I always keep my promises. Your husband insinuated certain…allegations.” Her heartbeat skidded to a standstill. “Rubbish.” But she had to ask. “About what?” “That you’re not a fit mother.” Leah threw her hands up, then shoved back the hair that had fallen across her eyes. Her palms were sweaty, and a sticky sheen of nervous perspiration slicked across her pores. “That’s ridiculous. Curtis was sick and not in his right mind.” “That’s your story, but don’t worry, I intend to find out the truth.”

She’s a dreamer. He’s a realist. Somewhere in the middle is love—and danger.

Where Dreams Begin © 2011 Phoebe Conn After her husband’s death, Catherine Brooks is ready to go back to work—almost. She volunteers at a shelter for homeless teens, Lost Angel, thinking it will ease her return to the classroom. There’s nothing easy about irascible shelter manager Luke Starns, though. His cool detachment rubs her the wrong way, especially when he warns her not to get too attached. Still, the soft heart she senses beneath his stern exterior keeps her coming back—and his face pervades her thoughts. It’s not that Luke finds Catherine’s easy charm and free spirit unappealing—quite the opposite. Life on the streets is hard, and discipline is the only ladder that’ll get and keep these kids out of trouble. He knows what it’s like to care too much, only to have the rug yanked away. He tells himself he’s simply trying to save her the same heartache. Yet Catherine has him rethinking his approach to life. Just as he lets his guard down, though, a murderer begins stalking the mean streets near the shelter, putting everything they care about at risk. Including their lives. Warning: This book contains a gritty setting, a serial killer in a red satin dress, and a couple who think sizzling sex is the only kind worth having.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Where Dreams Begin: On Wednesday, Catherine visited the charity thrift shop and dropped off the clothes and shoes she and Joyce had sorted. By Thursday morning, her garden looked beautiful, and she’d run out of excuses to stay away from Lost Angel. She drove on over to Hollywood, but she was determined to avoid Luke Starns and felt certain he would do his best to avoid her. Pam again put Catherine to work opening the mail, and when she finished, she carried the stack of new flyers over to the hall to post. She’d nearly completed the task when a slender girl in a fuzzy pink sweater and tight jeans came up to look over her shoulder. Catherine turned to smile and found the girl had the remarkable prettiness of Alice in Wonderland, with startling blue eyes and long, blonde hair. “Hello,” Catherine greeted her. “I hope if you recognize anyone, you’ll encourage them to call home.” The girl shrugged and slid her hands into her hip pockets. “I don’t see anyone I know.” Like so many of the teens Catherine had seen on Friday, the girl looked painfully young. Catherine doubted she would have approached her if she hadn’t wanted to talk, but uncertain how best to initiate a conversation, she adjusted the angle of a bright pink flyer and kept quiet. “You’re new here, aren’t you?” the girl asked without glancing Catherine’s way.

“Yes, I am.” Catherine offered her name as she posted another flyer, but she had a lengthy wait before the girl responded. “My name’s Violet. I just come here sometimes to look at the books, but I didn’t find anything good today.” Catherine had noticed the sagging shelves which contained the center’s paperback library. “I’ve got quite a collection of paperbacks at home,” she said. “What sort of books do you like?” Violet shrugged again. “The ones with pretty covers.” She reached out to finger the rolled corner on a faded orange flyer that had been on display for several months. “You know, the ones where there’s a couple dancing or just staring into each other’s eyes?” “Yes. Those are romances. I love to read them too. I’ll bring in some of mine on my next visit. Do you come here often?” Violet began to inch away. “No. Like I said, I just come by to check out the books.” Catherine hadn’t meant to frighten Violet away, but as she turned to smile, the girl bolted for the door. When she found Luke blocking the way, she simply turned sideways and slipped by him with a hasty wave. Luke didn’t look pleased, but as he walked toward Catherine, she couldn’t imagine what she’d done wrong this time. She inhaled deeply and vowed to hang on to her temper, regardless of how easily Luke Starns lost his. Choosing to ignore him, she admired her neat arrangement of new flyers, which was a vast improvement over the last volunteer’s haphazard posting. Luke stopped so close to Catherine their shoulders were nearly touching. “Thanks for putting up the flyers,” he offered in a hushed whisper. “I hope Violet didn’t give you any trouble.” It hadn’t even occurred to Catherine that Luke could have been annoyed with Violet rather than her. Feeling very foolish, she forced a smile. “Why no. We merely exchanged a few words about books, and I offered to bring in some of mine.” “Oh, great. Come on. I’ll walk you back to the office.” Luke grabbed the stapler off the adjacent table and gestured for Catherine to precede him. Catherine moved toward the door with a purposeful stride, but even then she felt as though Luke were rushing her. “Is there something wrong?” she asked as they moved out into the courtyard. Luke caught her arm and with a gentle tug pulled her to a halt while they were still out in the open. “I’m positive that during the orientation I stressed that we never make promises we can’t keep. That goes for something as simple as a few used books.” His chambray shirt had been faded by a hundred washings, but there was nothing soft in his manner, and Catherine found it difficult to look at him. Fortunately, the stone courtyard possessed the tranquility of a cloister, leading her to believe the dull gray granite probably possessed greater warmth than Luke ever did.

“If I tell someone I’ll bring in a few used books, or a bucket of dirt, for that matter, I’ll follow through,” she insisted. “It’s a shame you’ve apparently been disappointed in your other volunteers, but I always keep my word.” Catherine took pride in how positive she sounded, but in truth, she was deeply offended. “Violet is little more than a lovely child. Do you honestly believe that I’d disappoint her?” Luke swore under his breath. “You mustn’t allow yourself to become attached to any of the kids, and that goes double for Violet Simms.” He paused to make certain he had Catherine’s full attention. “Violet’s father abused her sexually while her mother pretended not to know about it. Violet left home as soon as other men began to notice her. Now she’s living with a mechanic who calls himself Ford Dolan. That son of a bitch is as bad as her father, and she comes in here more often than not with a black eye.” “Can’t you have him arrested?” Catherine asked. “There’s no point in it when Violet won’t swear out a complaint against him. Don’t encourage her to depend on you for books or anything else, Catherine, because she’ll surely break your heart.” Catherine’s heart was already broken, but despite the lack of risk, she couldn’t agree. “I’m sorry to argue with you again, but I truly believe it’s imperative for these kids to know someone cares about them.” Luke kept his voice low, but it failed to disguise his irritation. “I didn’t say I didn’t care. If I didn’t give a damn, I wouldn’t be here, but there’s an enormous difference between a professional offering effective guidance and a misguided volunteer creating more harm than good.” Catherine didn’t understand how the man could be so incredibly dense. “I’m not trying to challenge your authority here, Dr. Starns. Do you have an objection to volunteers donating paperback books for your library?” “No,” Luke snorted. “Of course, not.” Catherine waited for him to realize how senseless their latest argument truly was. With his only child dead and his wife gone, she could easily understand why he’d walled up his heart, but she had no desire to emulate his chilling example. “Are you seeing a therapist yourself?” she asked. “That’s none of your damn business, Mrs. Brooks.” Luke left Catherine standing in the middle of the courtyard and entered the office alone, but she wasn’t ashamed to have asked the question. He might have the professional credentials to run Lost Angel, but she considered him pathetically lacking in empathy. The cloudless sky was the same vivid blue as Violet’s eyes, and she stood there a long moment simply to enjoy it. The frantic flight of a hummingbird drew her attention to the honeysuckle growing up the side of the granite church. Since Sam’s death, she’d learned to treasure such sweet distractions, and she took it

as an omen that any kindness she showed Violet, or anyone else at Lost Angel, would bring only good results. It wasn’t until that evening when she’d sunk down into a hot bubble bath that she recalled the slight break in Luke’s voice as he’d spoken her first name. There’d been a whisper of hurt in that instant, but if she wasn’t mistaken, there’d also been a husky hint of desire.