Chapter 22
As promised, Tobias was knocking on Megan’s cottage door the next evening. Wearing a fitted black open-neck shirt and black jeans, he looked devilishly handsome.
‘Hi!’ Megan tried to sound breezy, as her heart started to thump at seeing him.
‘Hello there.’ He handed her a bottle of red wine. It looked extremely expensive to her. Probably came straight from his cellar, she thought. What did the likes of him want with her? Was she a novel distraction? Or did she very conveniently remind him of his lost love? She watched him glancing round the kitchen, taking in the alterations she’d made. The cupboards had been painted with a country-cream chalk paint and she had sewn a pair of floral curtains, which hung prettily in the leaded window. The open shelves on the walls housed multicoloured crockery, giving it a lovely twee, cottage look. Megan had bought an old brass lantern from a car-boot sale, which shone on the Welsh dresser, giving the room a warm, cosy glow. A new rag rug lay on the freshly scrubbed stone floor and she had pulled the small dining table into the centre of the room and lit the candles on it. She hesitated: did it look too romantic? Suddenly she lost her nerve.
As if reading her mind Tobias turned to face her.
‘How beautifully snug this is, Megan,’ he smiled. ‘Let’s open the wine.’ She handed him a corkscrew and with expertise he extracted the cork. Pouring two generous glasses, he lifted his to propose a toast. ‘To your new home.’
Megan grinned and clinked her glass with his. Taking a sip, she was surprised at how delicious she found it. Ripe, juicy plums and cinnamon hit the back of her tongue. It was so smooth and rich she took another sip immediately. Tobias gazed at her. ‘You like?’
‘Hmm,’ she nodded, ‘it’s lovely.’
‘It was the first one I came across in the cellar.’ Megan’s lips twitched. He really did belong to a different world. ‘Something smells good.’ Tobias nodded towards the oven.
‘Beef casserole with baked potatoes.’ Basically something she could just leave in the oven, not being too much of a cook. ‘It should be ready. Take a seat.’ She couldn’t help but notice again how he dwarfed the little kitchen. He must feel cramped in here, she thought, being used to so much space in Treweham Hall.
As Megan busied herself dishing out the meal, Tobias sat at the table observing her. She wore skinny jeans, which showed off her slim legs and perfect, round bottom, and an off-the-shoulder blouse. He admired her graceful neck and noticed a strawberry-shaped birthmark on the dip above her collarbone. He felt a compulsion to lick and taste it. He found her so elegant, so quietly self-assured, qualities he respected in a woman. But he sensed a cool, distant side to her, too, as if she lacked trust in herself, or maybe others. He was experienced enough to know that she enjoyed his company – why else would he be here? He was certain she wouldn’t be painting the Hall if she didn’t like him, but there was just something missing, a reluctance he couldn’t put his finger on. The other day, riding, there was no mistaking the chemistry between them. He’d so wanted to kiss her, but had backed off. He had felt her tense when he touched her and whispered in her ear whilst looking at his portrait. Was that because she didn’t trust him, or herself? He didn’t want to rush and ruin things, but watching her now, at ease in her own surroundings, he was finding it very difficult.
She turned with the two plates of steaming casserole and put them on the table. ‘There you go.’
‘This looks lovely. Thanks, Megan.’
After a couple of glasses of wine, they both relaxed into each other’s company. They exchanged stories of their childhoods and youth, making each other giggle. Tobias mentioned his younger brother, Sebastian, and how he used Treweham Hall as a base, when not touring with his travelling theatre company as an actor.
‘I’ve seen him in The Templar. He’s a friend of Nick’s, isn’t he, the one with blond hair?’
‘Hmm, I’m afraid he is.’ Clearly Tobias didn’t approve of this friendship.
Changing the subject, Megan commented on an article she had once read about him being a wild child.
He shook his head. ‘Don’t believe everything you read in the paper. I wasn’t half as bad as they made out.’ This was actually true; he was worse.
They had soon got through the bottle of wine.
‘I’ve another bottle, but it won’t be to your standard,’ Megan said over her shoulder, as she stretched up to the shelf to get it. He caught a glimpse of flesh as her blouse rode up and felt something stir inside. After a few more glasses of wine, he reached his hand out to cover hers on the table. There it was again: she’d tensed. Suddenly a dark thought hovered over him like a thunder cloud and made his stomach clench.
‘Megan, can I ask you a question?’ He looked so grave, she wondered what it was.
‘Yes.’
‘Has anyone ever physically hurt you?’ Just one name, that’s all he needed and he’d break the bastard’s legs.
‘No! Of course not,’ she answered immediately, shocked that he should think such a thing. He appeared to lighten up. ‘I know I might appear… a little cool at times—’
‘Subzero,’ he cut in, making her throw her head back and chuckle.
‘You’re funny, Tobias. You make me laugh,’ she smiled.
‘You’re beautiful, Megan. You make me horny,’ he replied with a wicked grin.
Megan’s eyes widened, ‘Tobias!’
‘I’m teasing you,’ he lied; he’d never been so aroused. ‘I’m sorry, please, carry on,’ he smoothed over.
‘Well, if I’msubzeroit’s because I’ve been hurt in the past, but not physically, emotionally.’ There was a poignant pause.
