In Bed With a Stranger (15 page)
Read In Bed With a Stranger Online
Authors: India Grey
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Contemporary Fiction, #Sagas
‘It is, largely.’ Randall’s voice was carefully neutral. ‘PTSD is a complex condition that can result in a wide range of symptoms, from difficulty sleeping to hyper-vigilance, paranoia, flashbacks, bursts of uncontrollable anger … Does any of that sound familiar?’
Beyond the smeared glass the bright morning blurred and darkened. Kit’s mind raced. He could feel the sweat break out on his forehead as the familiar numbness invaded his fingers and burned across his palms. He opened his mouth to deny it, but the razor wire tightened around his throat and the words wouldn’t come.
‘Yes.’ It was Sophie who broke the silence, her voice quiet and certain. She reached across and put her hand to his cheek, very gently bringing his face round towards her. ‘That was what happened in Morocco, wasn’t it?’ she said softly. ‘In the souk. You had a flashback, didn’t you?’
There was nowhere left to hide, no more ammunition with which he could fight. He felt as if he’d come to the end of a long stand-off, and there was nothing left for him to do but walk out into the open with his hands in the air.
‘Yes.’ His throat felt as if it were full of sand. Sophie’s gaze was green and cool, as soothing as deep shade on a hot day, but he couldn’t quite let himself slip into it yet. ‘But what about my hands? You’re saying it’s all in my mind, aren’t you?’
Randall sighed. ‘No. I’m saying the numbness and lack of co-ordination could be an extreme stress response in someone who’s been through a lot. More than one person can deal with
alone.’ Opposite, Sophie stood up and walked silently around the table, taking his face between her hands. ‘I’ve talked to soldiers who’ve served under you, Kit,’ Randall continued, his voice subdued. ‘I know how much you take on yourself in order to spare your men. It’s tough out there at the best of times, and you’ve seen more than your fair share of the worst of times.’ Sophie’s eyes didn’t leave his. With infinite tenderness she bent her head and kissed his lips; sweetly, softly. ‘No one can do that indefinitely without it having some effect,’ Randall went on, oblivious, as Kit stumbled to his feet, wrapping his arms around Sophie, holding her hard against his body and kissing her back as if his life depended on it. ‘My guess is you dealt with it before by simply blocking out all emotion, but now—’ Randall broke off with a short, wistful laugh. ‘Well, welcome to the human race, Major Fitzroy.’
Slowly, reluctantly, Kit took his mouth from Sophie’s, but they stayed close together, their foreheads touching, their gazes locked.
‘OK, I take the point,’ Kit said harshly. ‘So what now?’
‘Talking helps,’ Randall replied from the other end of the phone. ‘Not bottling up emotion.’
Kit gave a lopsided smile as Sophie brushed a tear from his cheek with her thumb. ‘I’m onto it.’
‘Often just getting some of the memories out into the open can help the mind to process them and stop the cycle,’ Randall said, above the sound of shuffling papers. ‘I can find out the numbers of people who can help, if you’d like …’
‘Thanks, Randall,’ Kit said in a low voice, reaching for the phone. ‘But you already did that, remember? I owe you.’
‘Not at all. I’m just doing my job, like you were just doing yours. You can invite me to the wedding though. I’d like to meet this wonderful girl.’
‘You’re on.’
Ending the call, Kit raised his head and looked at Sophie.
He felt inexpressibly tired, as if he’d been walking for days and was now in sight of home.
‘So, it looks like you’re stuck with me for the next fifty years at least,’ he said in a voice that was gruff with love, smoothing a strand of hair back from her face.
She closed her eyes briefly. ‘Thank God for that.’ A shadow of anguish flickered across her face, but then she opened her eyes and smiled and it was gone. ‘Now could we possibly go to bed?’
Kit shook his head, picking up his phone again and scrolling through the numbers. ‘Not yet. I have one more call to make first. Estate business.’
‘Kit … How could you …?’ Sophie protested as the sound of the dialling tone rang out again. Laughing, she made a move to grab the phone from him and he held it out of her reach, sliding a hand up her bare thigh beneath the shirt as she jumped to grab it. She let out a squeal at exactly the same moment that a bored voice came on the other end of the line.
‘Hello, Northumbrian Holidays, how can I help?’
Collapsing back against the worktop, Sophie clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Kit struggled to make his tone businesslike, and take his thoughts off how outrageously beautiful and sexy she was.
‘It’s Kit Fitzroy. I’m phoning with regard to Castle Farm at Alnburgh.’
Sophie’s eyes widened.
‘Oh, yes, Lord Fitzroy.’ The voice became noticeably warmer and more interested. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ Kit said gravely. ‘Due to circumstances … entirely beyond my control, I’m sorry to say the farmhouse is going to be unavailable for rent. With immediate effect. Obviously anyone with existing bookings will be generously compensated.’
Sophie dropped her hand. Her mouth was open and all
traces of laughter had left her face. In its place was an expression of naked longing and deep, unstinting love.
‘Oh, dear,’ sighed the bored woman on the other end of the phone. ‘That’s most unfortunate. At least it’s the end of the season, I suppose. Can I ask how long you expect it to be unavailable for?’
Kit touched Sophie’s lips with his fingertips, smiling into her eyes.
‘For ever,’ he said.
EPILOGUE
T
HE
first fat flakes of snow were just beginning to fall from an iron-grey sky as the Routemaster bus lumbered through Alnburgh village. In spite of the cold the road to the church was lined with people, all eager to catch a glimpse of the bride, and the crowd burst into a round of spontaneous applause as the bus swung into the churchyard and shuddered to a halt in a cloud of diesel fumes.
As she peered out into the gloom of the winter afternoon a lump came to Sophie’s throat.
‘So much for a small wedding,’ she joked weakly. The crowd was full of familiar faces. Sophie spotted Mrs Watts and the landlady of The King’s Arms, their cheeks flushed with cold and excitement, and she felt unbearably touched.
Rainbow climbed out of the driver’s seat, looking strikingly lovely in a long, black and fabulously Gothic fitted coat that skimmed her ankles and showed off her beautiful hair.
‘Are you ready?’
Sophie picked up her bouquet of dark red roses. ‘Ready? Are you kidding?
I
can’t wait.
I
know it’s tradition for the bride and groom not to see each other on their wedding day, but
I
feel like I’ve been apart from Kit for ever.
I
just want to get the service bit over so
I
can talk to him.’
Juliet Fitzroy got up from her seat and adjusted the simple coronet of ivy leaves that rested on top of Sophie’s cascade of
auburn hair—still slightly paint-spattered from all the decorating she’d been doing at the farmhouse. As Sophie’s matron of honour, Juliet was wearing a little fitted shift dress of dark green silk, simple and elegant.
‘You’ve got the rest of your lives to talk.’ She smiled fondly and touched Sophie’s cheek. ‘Enjoy every minute of this. It’s your day.’
Rainbow shook her head mutely, her blue eyes bright with tears.
‘And you look so beautiful. I’m so—’ She broke off, pressing her fingers to her mouth. Juliet put a hand on her arm and a look of empathy passed between them.
‘Your mother is proud of you, and so am I,’ she said in her grave, husky voice that contained so many echoes of Kit’s. ‘You deserve to be so happy, my darling.’
‘Thank you.’ Determined not to cry and smudge her mascara, Sophie looked down at her hands and blinked fiercely. The Dark Star glistened on her finger, soon to be joined by a plain gold band.
‘You’re quite sure opals aren’t unlucky?’ she asked one last time.
‘Absolutely and completely.’ Rainbow sniffed stoically. ‘The old wives’ tale is that they’re unlucky
unless
it’s your birthstone, which it is. But in crystal healing black opals are thought to release fear and bring a sense of empowerment. They’re also associated with strong sexual attraction.’
Sophie laughed, and the tiny shard of hope lodged in her heart twisted a little. The desire between her and Kit burned as fiercely as ever, only now it was accompanied by conversations that carried on late into the night in which they often talked about their hopes for the future. For a family. She wasn’t sure yet, and she’d been disappointed before, but …
Maybe.
Rainbow got out of the bus first, holding up her hand to help her daughter down. Sophie’s dress was a narrow column
of silk, overlaid with gossamer-fine lace that glittered with tiny beads. It was so narrow that it made the steps of the bus difficult to manage. Holding Rainbow’s hand, she hoisted her skirt up and jumped down.
The little crowd of well-wishers erupted into a chorus of whoops and cheers and the sound carried into the candlelit church, sending a ripple of excitement through the assembled congregation. At the front of the church Kit turned to Jasper. In contrast to Jasper’s LA tan, his face was almost as white as the starched collar of his shirt and a muscle was flickering in his cheek. ‘What’s happening?’ he said tersely. ‘I heard them arrive ages ago. You don’t think she’s having second thoughts, do you?’
Suppressing a smile, Jasper shrugged nonchalantly. This new, human side to his previously marble-hearted brother hadn’t yet lost the power to surprise and amuse him. ‘She might have,’ he said with mock concern. ‘She wasn’t very sure she wanted to marry you.’
Muttering a curse, Kit made to set off back up the aisle. ‘I’m going to see if she’s all right.’
Jasper lunged after him and blocked his way. ‘Kit, don’t be an ass, and don’t make me have to try and restrain you because we both know I couldn’t.’ He rolled his eyes in exasperation. ‘I knew I should have opted to be Sophie’s bridesmaid instead.’
Sidestepping him, Kit went over to one of the many men in military uniform on the Fitzroy side of the church.
‘Lewis, go and check everything’s OK outside, would you?’
‘No problem.’ Lewis handed his baby son back to his new wife sitting in the pew beside him and hurried up the aisle with much of his old assurance. He was back a moment later, grinning broadly and sticking his thumbs up.
A hushed murmur travelled forwards from the back of the church.
Sophie was standing in the doorway. She wore no veil and
there were snowflakes in her hair, sparkling like tiny diamonds on her crown of ivy leaves.
Kit’s heart stopped and in that instant all the tension fell away from him. As she stepped forwards the congregation fell silent. There was no organ music, no bridal march, just a group of Rainbow’s friends high up in the gallery at the back of the church playing an old and hauntingly beautiful folk tune called ‘The South Wind’ on a tin whistle, a guitar and a violin.
And Sophie, laughing and crying, one hand in Rainbow’s, the other in Juliet’s, walking towards him. She looked strong, happy and so beautiful that Kit wasn’t the only one whose eyes were suddenly smarting with tears.
He couldn’t wait. Leaving a resigned Jasper at the altar, he strode towards her and, meeting her halfway along the aisle, gathered her into his arms. Sliding his hands into her gleaming hair, he kissed her, on and on.
The vicar sighed and raised his eyes to heaven.
‘I hadn’t got to that bit yet.’
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
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First published in Great Britain 2011
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited.
Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,
Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
© India Grey 2011
ISBN: 978-1-408-92635-2