“Dad, don’t you think you should have checked with me first?” asked Rafe in annoyance.
“Now see here, Rafe––” the earl started to say, but Zach cut him off.
“Thank you,” he said in a choked voice; the puppy was licking the underside of his jaw then. “I-I-I just…thank you.” His eyes filled with tears, his face reddening with the effort it must have taken to hold them back.
Rafe huffed out a breath, but his annoyance evaporated. I bit my lip to stop myself saying anything. I’d wanted Zach to have that moment, but there was no way we could keep a puppy at my flat when we moved back there. Maybe Zach could visit?
The last thing I wanted was to outstay my welcome with the Sterlings. They’d been very kind, but I knew Rafe’s guilt was consuming him. That was why he’d taken us in. He felt responsible for what happened.
Yes, he still called me darling, he held my hand, he even kissed me lightly, but I knew he was just helping me to heal. Over the last two weeks my libido had come back with a vengeance and I really didn’t want light touches anymore. I wanted Rafe to doveryfilthy things to me again, and that did not seem to be on his agenda at all. So no, my brother and I were not going to be imposing on the Sterlings any longer than we needed to. Once I was brave enough to go back to the flat, we would move out.
“Did you see me die, Gran?” Ozzie shouted as he ran towards the countess and flung his arms around her for a hug, likely ruining the expensive outfit she was wearing.
“Wonderful performance, darling,” she said, smilingdown at his upturned face as she brushed some blood-soaked hair from his forehead. “Absolutely gruesome.”
“You died magnificently, young man,” put in Granny Sterling.
“Yes, bloody brilliant, squishball,” said Poppy, grinning as she bounced over to him. “You smashed it. Best death I’ve seen in ages.”
“Hugo didn’t pop the party popper when he was supposed to,” Ozzie grumbled.
“I don’t think that matters, Oz,” I told him, smiling at the Sterlings as I approached.
“Margot sliced an artery, Clara,” Ozzie said in a patient tone. “It’s supposed to start spurting straight away.”
The earl, the countess, Granny Sterling and Poppy all moved to hug me and Zach (the earl’s hug for Zach being more a manly back slap), and then Rafe claimed me, pulling me into his side.
“Fab cardy, Clara,” said Poppy, and I smiled. The soft wool cardigan I was wearing wasn’t actually one of the ones Poppy had bought me (she might claim they were cast-offs, but I knew better); it was one I’d bought a few years ago when I qualified as a teacher. Bright orange with purple edging and so, so soft. I’d bought it but never worn it. But tonight it just felt…right.
Like it was okay to be noticed.
Like it was safe.
Chapter 40
Th-the woman you love?
Rafe
She stormedinto the kitchen like a small, neon pink ball of fury and I had to hold back a smile. Smiling in the face of her anger would not be a good idea. But I loved angry Clara. Well, I loved Clara however she came really, but angry Clara was particularly fascinating.
It also felt like a massive achievement that she felt safe enough to be angry with me, and a huge contrast from those early days of total blankness with the occasional fear reaction after she was discharged from hospital. But now, a few weeks in, she was slowly coming out of herself and I bloody loved it.
I was not by nature a gentle or patient man, but with Clara I was learning how. I had to. For a start, she was traumatised. She had finally started counselling last week, after her initial flat refusal. It was only after I’d asked Mrs C to help me convince her that Clara agreed to it. Bending the truth slightly (at my behest), Mrs C told Clara that Molton Prep had a fund for staff counselling services andthat they happened to have a specialist trauma counsellor on their books. Mrs C was a surprisingly good liar. Clara had already had two sessions with Mary Tandent, the very best counsellor for PTSD that I could find. I knew it was helping. I could see Clara improving. But she still had a long way to go, and me forcing her into a relationship would probably not be the most sensible move at the moment.
The other, not insignificant, reason for my patience was that I had been a complete and total arsehole. The longer I had to stew on it, the more I tortured myself with what I’d done in that courthouse corridor.
I had nightmares where I woke up sweating after replaying the sight of Clara’s pale face and her desperate expression when she stopped me that day. In my dreams, I could feel her grip on my arm, hear her whispered “please” as she begged me for help. I shook her off, just like I had in real life, even though my mind was screaming at me that I was making a mistake, that what I needed to do was hold her, scoop her up and carry her out of that fucking place, away from her family. I’d allowed the woman I loved to be hurt, and the guilt was eating me alive. So, if she came to me, it had to be on her own terms. I wouldn’t push her… well, not much anyway.
However, on the issue she was currently revving herself up to rant at me about, I wasnotgoing to relent. The puppy stirred from his nap in his dog bed in front of the Aga and he bounced over to us. Clara paused to lean down and tickle his tummy before continuing her rant.
“Rafe, what are all my worldly belongings doing here?” she snapped.
“I like your jumper,” I said through a smile.
“My…?” she trailed off as heat hit her cheeks and she stamped her foot in frustration. My smile grew even wider. “What has my jumper got to do with anything?”
“That’s a beautiful colour on you,” I told her the truth, and her blush deepened.
