A Country Rivalry Page 6

  ‘Fine,’ she squeaked.

  At the end of the evening, as Marcus made his way up the stairs and crossed the landing to his room, he met Viola.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Marcus,’ she said. ‘Listen, I didn’t want to mention this at dinner in front of everyone, but I think I know a way to get to Tobias Cavendish-Blake,’ she hissed under her breath.

  Marcus smiled lazily. ‘All sorted.’

  ‘What?’ spat Viola.

  ‘I said, it’s all sorted,’ he replied calmly, crossing his arms.

  ‘But…’ she spluttered.

  ‘We should be filming inside Treweham Hall by… the end of the month, I’d say,’ and with that he smiled politely, passed her, unlocked his bedroom door and closed it shut, leaving Viola standing there, jaw dropped in astonishment.

  Again! He’s done it again, always a step ahead, she thought with annoyance.

  14

  Megan snuggled closer in to her dozing husband and wrapped her arms around him. He felt so solid and warm. ‘Hmm,’ he responded, turning to face her.

  ‘Tobias, have you thought about what Finula asked?’ she spoke quietly, hoping to catch him at his most malleable, after lovemaking and a relaxing sleep.

  Megan had been excited when Finula had approached them both about the television crew possibly filming at Treweham Hall, but Tobias had been dubious, even more so when Finula had mentioned him being interviewed. Then he remembered how Dylan had agreed to an interview, thinking it would be good for business. Maybe the same applied to him. After all, publicity for the Hall, which would be open to visitors again in the spring, could only be a good thing. Plus, Treweham Hall being a possible location for television or film companies in the future made this too good an opportunity to miss. He had told Finula that he’d sleep on it, knowing full well that Megan would work on him to agree to it.

  ‘Yes, I’ve thought about it,’ he teased, gently running his fingers through her tousled hair.

  ‘And?’ she persisted, her eyes eagerly watching him.

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Oh, but, Tobias, this would mean the world to Finula. She’s desperate to come with the documentary team, and watch the filming, not to mention spend time with her sexy producer chap.’

  ‘Sexy, eh?’ Tobias raised a playful eyebrow and rubbed his thumb across her lips. She kissed it and caught hold of his hand.

  ‘Apparently so, but not as sexy as you, I’m sure.’ Her eyes danced with mischief. ‘Please say you’ll do it and let them come.’ She bent her head to slowly kiss his lips. He could feel her breasts on his chest and he began to get aroused, again. Her hand moved gently over his chest then crept under the duvet to stroke his muscular thigh, before finally coming to rest on his erection. ‘Please,’ she whispered in his ear, rubbing her hand delicately up and down him.

  How could he deny her anything, this beautiful, intoxicating creature of his?

  ‘Just for you, yes,’ he replied huskily as she straddled herself across his legs.

  15

  It had been a hectic day at the stable yard. Normally Flora would have been in the office first thing, helping to deal with emails, telephone messages and delegating the team’s daily rota, but today Dylan had insisted she have some time off. He’d noticed how tired she was looking and he instructed that she have a lie-in that morning as he tumbled out of bed. With Flora still recovering from the nasty virus she had got a few months ago he was anxious not to overwork her.

  Three of the grooms were busy mucking out the stables as Dylan scurried about in the office trying to get through the mounting paperwork and all the entries for the upcoming races. Although he dearly loved owning a training yard, he missed spending as much time as he had with the horses. When his sole occupation was as a jockey he was racing every week and he had relished the thrill of the competition. Now more and more of his time was spent filling in forms and wading through all the red tape and, not for the first time, he realised how important Flora’s input was. Without her he doubted the yard would run as smoothly as it did. It wasn’t as though he didn’t always appreciate her – he really did – it was just having the time to show it.

  He sighed, feeling a touch guilty. Flora was only twenty and yet she had such a mature, sensible head on her, as well as being the kindest and most loving of people. She would be twenty-one in December. That would be an ideal time to show her how much he valued her. He’d take her away somewhere romantic…

  Instantly his thoughts turned back to the yard. Who would cover for them whilst they went away? Again, a touch of resentment fired through him, which he quickly dampened down. What did he expect? It was early days; the yard had only just opened and the clientele was starting to build now. Once they were on their feet and properly established it would get easier. More staff could be employed, giving them better flexibility.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a black BMW pulling into the yard and parking outside his office. Dylan frowned, wondering who it could be, but as soon as the driver got out and flicked back her long dark ringlets, flouncing her way towards the office door, his stomach dropped. Oh God, it was Samantha Tait.

  Samantha’s husband, a rich, successful architect the wrong side of fifty, but with very deep pockets, had contacted him several months ago as a prospective client. He owned two thoroughbreds and needed them in a racing yard, having recently moved them from Ireland. When Dylan had driven to seen the horses, he had had no doubt of their ability and was keen to secure Mr Tait as his client. However, his wife, Samantha, had made it perfectly clear exactly what the terms and conditions had to be. Unbeknown to her husband, Samantha wanted just as much care from Dylan as the horses, and Dylan was to service her too.

  Initially it seemed a small price to pay – after all, Samantha was easy on the eye with her svelte body and daring ways – but her constant need for attention had proved too much for Dylan. He soon realised he’d bitten off much more than he could chew but, reluctant to lose a client, he had had to handle her carefully. In the end, he had managed to put a stop to Samantha’s advances, and still keep her husband as a client.

  Obviously, Flora knew nothing about this, and it was before they had got together, but Dylan was keen to keep it a secret none the less. So far, Samantha had melted into the background, but now it seemed she was back and, judging by the look of determination on her face, she meant business. Dylan thanked God Flora wasn’t there in the office with him.

  Without knocking, Samantha strode through the small corridor and into the office. She cut quite a figure in tight leggings and a brown cashmere jumper. For a short moment Dylan’s gaze rested on her pert bottom, then he quickly looked up to eyes that were blazing. ‘How can I help you, Samantha?’ Dylan calmly asked.

  ‘Well, you can start by telling me the truth.’

  Dylan’s eyebrows raised. ‘Sorry?’

  Samantha let out a sigh of impatience. ‘Don’t come the innocent with me,’ she hissed. ‘You tell me you can’t perform…’ she blushed slightly, making Dylan smirk to himself. ‘Then I learn you’re shacked up with the assistant trainer!’ she yelled at him.

  Dylan’s eyes fled to the window and he noticed the staff had suddenly started to sweep up nearer to the office. Oh hell. Taking a deep breath he attempted to reason with Samantha, and calm her down.

  ‘Listen, Samantha, it would never have worked between us.’

  ‘That’s funny, because there was no mention of that whilst you were rogering me in the hot tub, was there?’ Her voice rose again, making Dylan wince. Still the stable staff brushed away, practically under the window now.

  He tried again. ‘Samantha, your husband is a client.’

  ‘Well, maybe it’s time he stopped being a client.’ Her voice was low and menacing now. To Dylan’s horror he saw Flora’s car drive into the yard. He had to do something, and fast.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ he asked in the same quiet voice.

  ‘I mean,’ she replied, her eyes narrowed and
her face contorted with spite, ‘that we can take our horses out of here anytime I choose.’

  ‘It’s your husband that pays the bills, I think you’ll find.’ Dylan’s voice had an edge now, too. Outside he saw Flora get out of her car and speak to the staff. He didn’t have long.

  ‘My husband will do whatever I tell him,’ Samantha batted back.

  ‘Not if he finds out what you are up to behind his back,’ Dylan retorted.

  Flora was making her way to the office now, and a drop of sweat ran down his back, his heart hammering within his chest.

  ‘He wouldn’t believe you.’ Her chin tilted in defiance.

  Dylan rose from his desk in anger. ‘I don’t need clients like you, Samantha. You take your horses if you want to. I’ve plenty more to train. You’ve far more to lose than I have,’ he warned.

  ‘I’ll tell him you seduced me.’

  Dylan heard the outside door slam. Flora must have overheard them in the corridor. He saw her run back across the yard to her car. He gulped in panic and frustration. Samantha followed his gaze.

  ‘Oh dear, have I made things difficult?’ she chided with a sly smile.

  Dylan looked at her in contempt. ‘Get the fuck off my yard. I never want to see you again.’

  Samantha gave him a cutting look, turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her.

  Dylan sat still for a moment, trying to take stock of what had happened. Flora. He had to speak to her. He quickly got up and reached for his Land Rover keys. Running out of the office, he called to the three grooms still taking an interest in sweeping the spotless yard floor, ‘I’ll be back soon, just mind the fort!’ He jumped into the Land Rover and sped off after Flora. To his deep frustration, he got stuck behind a tractor and struggled to overtake it. By the time he got home it was too late.

  Flora had obviously driven at top speed to get back to his house, collect a few things and clear off. She’d taken her riding hat, boots and jacket, normally hung in the utility room, along with her toiletries and toothbrush.

  Dylan looked at their king-size bed and noticed she’d forgotten her silk nightshirt. He picked it up and buried his face in it. It smelt of her, that lovely familiar faint waft of jasmine. At that moment his heart broke. He blinked back the tears that threatened to fall and told himself to get a grip. Flora would only have gone back home to her parents’ house. He’d let the dust settle, then talk to her.

  Then another terrible thought occurred to him. What if she didn’t turn up at the yard again? What if she’d decided not to live or work with him? He doubled over, as though he’d been punched in the stomach and sat down on the edge of the bed. He was still clutching her nightgown. With a shaking hand he neatly folded it up and put it on her pillow. She’d be back he told himself. She had to come back.

  16

  Sebastian packed the last few items in his case and zipped it shut. He still had a few weeks left on the rent of his apartment, but had decided to go back home anyway. He missed Treweham Hall, and he missed his family.

  After the last night of the play, when Nick had unexpectedly showed up, Sebastian felt like he needed some form of stability to secure him. Seeing Nick standing there, appearing so contrite, had shaken him up and knocked him off kilter. This showed how fragile Sebastian really was deep down. On several occasions he had contemplated seeking help, some kind of therapy or counselling perhaps, something to ease his over-active mind, which raced round in never ending circles. Sometimes Sebastian felt like he would explode with all the turmoil inside his head, forever replaying the past, wallowing in misery at what had gone on and what could have been.

  In the beginning it had been great with Nick. They appeared to be perfectly suited. Both young, attractive, intelligent professionals, who made each other laugh. They lived in the same village so the relationship had soon flourished as each could easily call upon the other. Very soon they had established a loving relationship and, for Sebastian’s part, had no need or inclination to look elsewhere.

  Nick, however, did not feel the same. Sebastian hadn’t been enough for him. Nick got tired of waiting for Sebastian to return from his touring theatre. He got itchy feet, wanting to get out and have some fun, not to be stuck inside alone.

  One night he got chatting to Finula in The Templar and Nick had been surprised at how well they seemed to get on. Soon he became inquisitive; it had been years since he’d been with a woman. An urge started to grow that only Finula, it seemed, could satisfy.

  Finula knew nothing of Nick’s relationship with Sebastian. In fact, she didn’t even know Nick was attracted to men as well as women. For a while, Nick managed to play them both at the same time. Having a dual relationship excited him, gave him contrast, as well as an almighty buzz. Then it had all gone badly wrong. Tobias had sussed out what was going on. Being Sebastian’s brother as well as a close friend to Finula, he didn’t take long to comprehend what Nick was up to. Finula had her own suspicions after she found certain magazines in Nick’s glove compartment, when they had gone out one afternoon. Seeing a centrefold of a naked man stare up at her, whilst Nick was paying for petrol, was the last thing Finula had expected to find. In the end the truth had come out after a rather nasty drunken row, when Nick had had the bare-faced cheek to suggest a threesome! Finula had never forgiven him.

  Sebastian had never forgotten. Try as he might, he hadn’t managed completely to shake off all the feelings he had for Nick, but Sebastian was resolute that he would never get mixed up with him again. But why did it have to be so hard? His hands had yearned to reach out to him the other night. He longed for that warm, soft touch of his skin, to feel enveloped in his secure embrace. But it was not meant to be. Nick had shown his true colours and therefore could not be trusted. The sooner Sebastian accepted this, the better.

  Taking up his suitcase, Sebastian fleetingly looked round the room to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind. Then he climbed down the short, spiral staircase and stumbled slightly. Steadying himself, and with a heavy heart, he closed the door behind him for the last time and made for home, where he belonged.

  17

  Saturday had arrived and bright sunshine reflected Finula’s spirits as she scurried about her bedroom preparing for the big date. She reprimanded herself for being so excited, but she really couldn’t help it. She felt like she had waited quite long enough for a date with Marcus and now it was finally here she was finding it hard to contain herself. Megan had helped her decide on her outfit. Casual, yet stylish was Megan’s advice, so Finula had opted for skinny jeans tucked inside brown suede boots and a cream V-necked jumper revealing just a slight hint of cleavage, and which prettily showed off her mother’s heart pendant necklace that she’d decided to wear for moral support. Her brown three-quarter-length woollen jacket finished it all off nicely.

  Marcus was in the bar waiting for her, chatting to Dermot.

  ‘Ah, here she is,’ Dermot said with a smile. He was pleased his daughter was taking some time off and couldn’t have approved more of her company.

  ‘Ready to go?’ asked Marcus. Finula’s eyes flicked over his black, fitted jeans and thick, black jumper and she thought how dark and swarthy he looked. Her heart once again started to thump.

  ‘Yep, let’s go,’ she replied, trying to sound as calm as possible, when inside she was flapping with anticipation.

  ‘Now, you two, have a good day,’ chipped in Dermot, ‘and don’t worry about this place, Fin.’

  Finula cast him a withering look, ‘I won’t, Dad,’ she replied, making Marcus laugh. He turned to Dermot.

  ‘And don’t you worry, your daughter is in safe hands,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘I’m sure she is,’ Dermot nodded.

  Once inside Marcus’ Range Rover, Finula relaxed a little. He seemed very calm and she reflected that he was probably used to taking charge, being a director and producer. It made her feel reassured in some way. Being the curious kind, Finula looked for clues that could tell her more abou
t Marcus, but she struggled to find any. There were no CDs scattered about the car, indicating his taste in music, no wrappers telling her what he snacked on. In fact, apart from a few folders on the back seat, everything was pretty bare.

  He saw her glancing about his car and laughed to himself. Was she trying to suss him out?

  ‘I usually just listen to the radio,’ he supplied, ‘if I listen to anything.’

  ‘Oh,’ she frowned, trying to picture him sitting in silence driving. Surely everyone belted out their favourite tunes in the car?

  ‘So, tell me,’ he interrupted her thoughts, ‘what would you usually be doing on a Saturday?’

  ‘To be honest, if I’m not working, not a lot really.’ Then realising how boring she sounded, she quickly added, ‘I’m usually that tired, I’ll have a good lie-in and probably call at Megan’s in the afternoon, or go into town.’

  Marcus frowned: for someone as young as Finula, it sounded all work and hardly any play.

  ‘When was the last time you took a holiday?’

  Finula was surprised by the question and had to think hard. ‘Do you know, I can’t actually remember.’

  Marcus shook his head. ‘Finula, everyone needs time out. When we’ve finished filming you should visit where I live. You’d benefit from the peace and tranquillity.’

  Again, she was surprised. Was he inviting her to his house, that gorgeous Tudor cottage she’d seen on the internet?

  Then he completely changed the subject. ‘So where would you recommend we have lunch in Oxford?’

  ‘There’s a few good pubs there. I’ll let you choose.’

  Within an hour they entered the city of dreaming spires, rich in history and culture. After parking, they walked together through the busy pathways, with bicycles weaving in and out, until they reached a small pub tucked away down an alley. After ordering food and drinks, they sat down in a quiet alcove.

  Finula noticed a flyer on the table. She picked it up. ‘“Lola Burrax, clairvoyant extraordinaire”,’ she read out loud.