Playing for Keeps: Harford Scarlet Series (14 page)

‘Wakey, wakey, Sleeping Beauty. Time to get up.’

Sarah rose, gradually, from the mists of sleep, opening her eyes to see Tom smiling down at her. He brushed a bristly kiss across her lips and stood, looking gorgeous in jeans and a close-fitting blue shirt which matched his eyes.

‘Hey, you.’ She stopped, kicking herself for not saying something more meaningful.

‘Hey, you back.’ His smile broadened. ‘You returned to me,’ he said simply. ‘You gave us a chance. You came to me. You’re here.’

She felt a brief shot of guilt about her thoughts at the airport, when she had contemplated returning to her flat in Harford.

That guilt must have shown, as his smile dimmed. ‘You did want to come here?’

‘I did … I do. Sorry, I’m just a little foggy- headed.’ She gave him a hesitant smile. ‘What time is it?’ She sat up slowly, the bedcovers falling away from her shoulders.

‘Almost four. Marian will be back at six with the caterers.’

‘I like her. What’s happening tonight? Who’s coming?’ Sarah rubbed the sleep away from her eyes, trying to clear her head.

‘Just a dinner party with some people I’d like you to meet. It’s about time too. I’ve run you a bath.’

‘Sounds lovely.’ Sarah got up from the bed, and groggily followed Tom to the steamy bathroom. The large, round tub was filled with bubbles, the water underneath swirling lazily. Sleepily, she stripped naked and twisted her hair up before stepping into the soft, warm, foaming water, sighing in pleasure as she lay down and floated in the spacious bath. The silence behind her was broken by a clink, and she looked up to see Tom pulling his shirt off.

‘I wasn’t going to join you, I was just going to shave, but I will now.’ As she moved up, he stepped in behind her and brought her up against his chest. His hands moved hazily over her body and she murmured contentedly, her barriers down. ‘I’ve missed you so much. You’ve lost weight,’ he stated.

Sarah lifted her head slightly. ‘I didn’t eat much over there so maybe I have.’

‘I think you have. Don’t lose any more; I love your curves. I don’t like skinny women.’

‘But …’

‘Natasha was skinny? I never slept with her. I never fancied her. So was –’

‘Stop right there! I don’t want to hear about your exes. Not right now.’ She started running her hands up and down his thighs and felt his substantial interest growing behind her.

‘OK, not right now.’ He dropped kisses on her hair. ‘Have you woken up properly yet?’

‘Me? Yes, I –’

Tom caught hold of her and turned her around so she was straddling him as water surged and splashed over the bathroom. ‘Then it’s time to show how much I missed you.’

Chapter Thirteen

They were running late by the time Marian arrived. Tom was whistling cheerfully in the kitchen, having pulled on a dinner suit after his delayed shave. Sarah was wrapped in a towel, quickly blow-drying her glossy hair, which hadn’t survived the soapy bath and had needed to be washed in the shower. She hadn’t even looked in the wardrobe to decide what to wear. There was a knock on the bedroom door and Marian popped her head around it.

‘Sarah – ooh, you’re looking much better. A lot more colour in your cheeks. Do you mind if I come in? I’ve brought your dresses.’

‘Dresses?’

Marian bustled in, holding a couple of bulging dress carriers. ‘For tonight. Tom ordered them; you can return what you don’t want. They’re gorgeous, though – I wouldn’t be able to send them back if I were you.’ She hung them up on the wardrobe doors and started to unzip one. ‘My favourite’s the green silk, it’ll be a wonderful colour on you. But the others are lovely too. I’ll leave you in peace to decide. You have plenty of time.’ The doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be your friend Clare, she’s bringing in the shoes. This one’s for her.’ She pulled the second carrier out from underneath and moved it to the other door. ‘Enjoy yourselves trying them on.’

As Marian left, Sarah heard her talking to Clare outside. A couple of moments later, Clare stepped in.

‘Hi, honey. Missed me?’

Sarah could only gape at Clare. Her hair had been expensively lightened and twisted up, tendrils brushing her neck, and subtle make-up emphasised her sparkling blue eyes. However, she was dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, and boots and carrying several bags out of which shoeboxes bulged.

‘Are these the dresses? Ooh, now I feel just like Cinderella – with a credit card instead of a fairy godmother.’

‘Clare? You look fabulous.’

‘Do I? I had my hair and make-up done. Hang on.’ She went outside briefly then returned carrying glasses and a champagne bottle in an ice bucket. ‘Right, then, time for a try-on.’

Between them, the two friends tried on all of the dresses. Clare settled on a dark blue halter-necked chiffon gown which clung outrageously to her generous breasts. Sarah dithered between the royal blue number with a dramatic slit up to thigh level and the green silk dress which highlighted her eyes and bore a striking resemblance in style to the red dress she’d worn to the Estoril Casino. She went for the green, Marian’s preference.

The shoes were a selection of designer labels picked out by Clare. Sarah chose a silver pair while her friend’s matched her dress. Clare fussed over Sarah, helping her do her hair until it fell like a silk waterfall around her shoulders, then twisting it up elegantly.

‘So, how have you been press ganged into this dinner party?’ asked Sarah.

‘Marian. She contacted me, went through everything. Showed me a lot of evidence; she’d impress any jury. She may seem like a mumsy figure but she’s got a mind like a steel trap. She adores Tom, as he gave her the chance to get out of a nasty marriage. We talked a lot.’

‘She told me what happened too,’ said Sarah. It’s like some nightmare, what Natasha and Anna got up to. And us not suspecting a thing until it was too –’

‘Late? It’s not too late for you, is it? Don’t say that. Don’t even think that.’ Clare made Sarah sit down on the bed. ‘It’s obvious that he feels really deeply for you otherwise he wouldn’t be doing this. You had begun to relax with him, to really let your guard down.’

‘I’m not so sure now. I still feel a little … numb. Disconnected. I missed him so, so much. My bed felt empty without him. But I don’t know if I can really trust him. What does he see in me? Nick did warn me to watch my back, but this still happened.’

‘He sees what we all see: you’re wonderful. And you look stunning tonight. Why would he do all this if he wasn’t in love with you?’

Sarah was quiet. Her face was a picture of confusion.

There was a knock on the door and Tom called out, ‘Ladies, we’re ready for you now.’

The two women rose from the bed and Clare did some last-minute fussing with Sarah’s outfit. ‘Just relax and keep an open mind.’

‘I’ll do my best.’ Sarah gave a hesitant smile, squared her shoulders, and exited the bedroom with Clare following behind.

Sarah caught her breath at the candles lining the hall. The flickering light also highlighted the two men waiting there, wearing exquisite black tuxedos and kilts. Sarah heard Clare gasp as she came out from behind her.

The tableau froze as both pairs stared at their opposite numbers.

Tom eventually found his voice. ‘Hello, beautiful ladies. You both look gorgeous.’ His eyes were, however, reserved for Sarah only. ‘Um … Alex agreed to lend a hand tonight by partnering Clare.’

‘Hi, Clare.’ Alex lifted a hand towards her. ‘Er, you look stunning.’

Clare nodded dumbly and smiled faintly, a slight blush warming her cheeks.

‘You two go through. I need to have a word with Sarah.’ Tom waved them away.

Alex and Clare disappeared from sight; Sarah heard the sound of a door opening and the murmur of voices and clinking glasses before it closed again.

‘Sarah. Tonight you will meet the most important people in my life: my family.’ As Sarah gasped, Tom continued, ‘I know I’m springing this on you but you’ve avoided it up until now. I didn’t realise at first how successful you were at manoeuvring out of this confrontation; you disappeared at Christmas and New Year.’

‘I didn’t want to crash the occasion, it was a family thing.’

‘Rubbish. You had as much right to be there as anyone. I wanted you to meet them. Anyway, that’s in the past, tonight is the future. Just relax and enjoy yourself.’

He offered his arm and Sarah slowly linked with him. They walked down the corridor, towards the rooms Sarah had never fully explored. The double doors were wide open; a banqueting table, set with silver and crystal, was surrounded by clusters of formally dressed people. However, what captured Sarah’s attention was a mostly kilted group standing by the large, plate glass windows.

An older version of Tom, grey-haired but still stout and strong, came forward towards her. ‘You must be Sarah. I’m delighted to meet you at last.’ His accent was strong but clear. He smiled, the traces of illness visible in the deep lines on his face. ‘You are exactly how I pictured you.’

‘It’s lovely to meet you, umm …’ Sarah couldn’t think of his name, the apprehension had dried her mouth out. Tom handed her a glass of champagne and she took a nervous sip.

‘It’s MacDonald of Strathmar, but please call me Peter. Even Tom calls me Peter; it’s a bit awkward for him having two dads, never mind the complications of Scottish titles.’ Peter took a deep breath, his smile disappearing. ‘I have an apology to make, for inadvertently being a part of those women’s plot to hurt you. All I can say is I never expected my old schoolfriend’s offspring to be so mercenary. I’m a naive, stupid old man for believing that my son would have such bad judgement.’

Sarah clasped his hand in support. There was no need for him to vilify himself like that. ‘Please, don’t think that. There was a lot going on; we should have met earlier, but I was as much of an idiot for not trusting Tom too.’

Tom pressed a soft kiss to her temple. ‘And I should’ve trusted my instincts. I knew something was off with Anna but I was too distracted from meeting you again.’

The three exchanged rueful smiles and the awkwardness dissipated.

Peter chuckled mischievously. ‘Thank you so much for the work you did for us on the castle project; you never know, it could be ready to be booked out later in the year.’ He winked at a puzzled Sarah.

Marian came up and took his arm. ‘C’mon, Peter, she’s got a lot of people to meet before we sit down, so give her a chance. Let’s go and chat to Alex and Clare: they’re both looking a little awkward.’

As she led him away, a group of three approached.

‘Sarah, this is my dad, Jack Murray, my brother, Andrew, and his wife, Teresa.’

Sarah smiled automatically. ‘Nice to meet you.’

Jack looked remarkably similar to Peter, close enough that they might be mistaken for brothers. And Sarah recalled what had been said about Andrew being a softer version of Tom, and silently agreed. Then her gaze fell to Teresa and something about the slender blonde seemed familiar.

‘Teresa, have we met before?’

‘Please, call me Tess. You may remember me from university. I met Tom there, and got to know Andrew through him.’

What?
Sarah couldn’t take it all in, she was so confused. Tess was Tom’s ex-girlfriend and now his brother’s wife?

‘I’m sorry; this is such a shock to meet you all. I don’t know what to say.’

‘Just treat us like family and we’ll muddle through,’ said Jack kindly. ‘Tom’s like a bulldozer in getting his own way – he’s always been like that. We would’ve waited for you to come up to Scotland but he insisted.’

Sarah laughed. ‘He’s like that on the rugby field: unstoppable.’

Her comment broke the ice and the evening passed in a whirl, dishes and glasses being filled by unobtrusive, black-uniformed staff. Sarah gradually relaxed into normal conversation. After the meal, more guests arrived: some of Tom’s colleagues, business partners, and fellow rugby players.

It felt so unreal: the luxurious surroundings, the night-time view over the Thames with lights twinkling in the distance. They talked of the family homes in Scotland and Sarah coming to visit them as if she was already part of the family. She was aware of Tom watching her, the flashes of concern on his face. He took many opportunities to keep touching her, as if he couldn’t believe she was there.

Clare was remarkably vivacious during the meal but still avoided talking directly with Alex, or if she did, she would speak to his shoulder, reluctant to make eye contact. The family, however, loved her willing smile and obvious zest for life, and she was included in all the invitations to visit north of the border.

Sarah tried not to puzzle over the mystery of Tess becoming Tom’s brother’s wife. Something about what had happened so long ago rang a bell, and she didn’t want to think too carefully about those days.

Finally, just after midnight, the tipsy guests departed into waiting taxis. Sarah was struggling to keep her eyes open and allowed Tom to shepherd her to bed where she dozed as he undressed then joined her, holding her close to him and dabbing kisses to her body.

Sarah woke early, her body clock confused by the rising sun. Even in Tom’s penthouse, she could hear birds singing at the approaching day. Tom’s arm was still wrapped firmly around her, his legs entwined with hers. For a moment, it reminded her of that fateful day years earlier.

Increasing discomfort meant she needed to get up to go to the loo so, slowly, she detangled herself. Tom began grumbling in his sleep as she tiptoed to the bathroom.

By her return, he had shifted over to her side of the bed. She gently lifted the covers and slid into the free side, lightly touching a restless Tom on the shoulder. He turned over and gathered her to him again.

He nuzzled into her neck, mumbling under his breath, ‘Esss … essss …’

Sarah’s heart dropped. No, not again, she thought. He can’t still be dreaming of her? Can he?

‘Ssss … Sarah.’

Sarah relaxed and let out the breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. At least he had some idea of who he was in bed with. It took a few more minutes for her heart to settle down into a normal rhythm, by which time Tom’s hands were travelling possessively over her.

Half an hour later, she was gasping as he pushed inside her.

‘Good morning,’ he murmured as he filled her slowly and deeply, kissing the nape of her neck.

‘Morning,’ squeaked Sarah, as she melted.

He set a tireless rhythm, easing in and out of her, holding her to him with a firm hand on her mound. Sarah found her hips jerking towards him, as he stretched her deliciously and his clever fingers worked between her slippery folds.

‘I want to see you,’ he declared huskily. ‘I want to see your face. I’ve missed you so much.’ He pulled out, flipped her onto her back, and mounted her again. He balanced above her on one elbow, staring down at her. ‘That’s much better.’

Sarah groaned her agreement and firmly clasped his buttocks. Her eyes drifted closed at one very firm, deep thrust as pleasure ripped through her.

‘No, look at me.’

With difficulty, she reopened her eyes and focused on him as increasing waves of bliss battered her body. He kept her captured in his gaze, and she saw him peak, the shudders running through his body and tipping her over too. Then as the ripples subsided and her eyelids fluttered closed, she briefly glimpsed a frown of frustration on his face

He collapsed to the side of her, his body sprawled like hers. She kissed his shoulder, inhaling his unmistakable scent as he got his breath back. He continued caressing her and their heart rates returned to normal.

Tom gently ran one hand down her cheek, turning her face towards him. ‘I love you,’ he whispered.

Sarah opened her mouth, tried to say something but failed. She met his anguished eyes. ‘I’m sorry –’

‘Don’t. It’ll happen again. It must … shh.’ He cradled her, stroking one hand up and down her spine, soothing her back to sleep.

‘Come on, Harford!’ yelled Tom, pacing the sidelines furiously, only a few yards away from Sarah and Clare’s usual spot.

The team’s players were looking half asleep against a sharp Birmingham side, and visibly missing the power and direction that Tom usually provided. The replacement number eight didn’t make the same amount of ground or work quite so well with Alex. Tom’s cajoling from the sidelines also couldn’t replace his leadership on the field. Their hopes for league promotion had passed them by but they could still make a good showing in the cup, and this was a cup game.

Playing second row was Adam, the Kiwi who they had met in the pub a few months previously. Tom’s knee wasn’t the only long-term injury Harford Park had suffered in the last couple of months, and Adam had been pulled into the squad. He was showing up well despite the disparity in experience, even thriving as he leapt and twisted like a salmon, and sneaked a hand onto the opposition’s lineout ball, tapping it back for Alex to gather and boot up the field. It bounced and trickled over the try line with the Park centre pouncing on it. As the crowd celebrated, several players slapped Adam on the back; he blushed self-effacingly and jogged back to halfway, his eyes to the ground.