Chapter 23
The walk home cleared Tobias’ head. Under a moonlit sky, dotted with stars, his mind buzzed with mixed emotions. Megan had awoken something deep within him. Something that had been lying dormant for years. Never had he believed the sensation pounding through his veins would ever return. It both shocked and satisfied him. It was as though he had been whisked back in time to when he was younger and at his happiest. It wasn’t disloyalty to Carrie’s memory – he’d got over that feeling a long time ago. He always knew at some stage he would have to produce an heir, so hadn’t envisaged being alone, but he assumed any future relationship would rate second-best. Tonight he’d been proved very wrong. Now he knew he could build a future with the right person, for the right reason. Adrenaline had coursed through him when she’d asked about Carrie.
He was outraged by Nick Fletcher’s meddling. When he’d seen him touch Megan yesterday behind the bar, not once but twice, he’d wanted to tear him apart, especially seeing how uncomfortable she appeared. And just why was Nick snooping at her garden gate the other day when he’d strode past him? How dare he cast aspersions about him? Especially after the way he had acted towards his brother, Sebastian. That thought left a very bitter taste in his mouth. It also strengthened his resolve to protect Megan from any unwanted attention from Fletcher. His need to safeguard her made him understand his father for the first time, and how he must have felt towards his wife. Then it suddenly became clear. In a moment he realised just how he could be close by, watching over Megan. He gave a slow smile and felt a warm, comforting glow inside.
From her bedroom window Megan watched him strolling home down the lane. Tonight had unnerved her. She’d been stunned at her response to his touch; her body still tingled. Pulling the curtains shut, she lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to make some sense of it all. Think logically, she told herself. He was attractive, charming and he made her laugh. So far, so good. But he was also from another world, lived in a grand house, had a disreputable past, plus a string of glamorous girlfriends. Wasshejust a novel distraction? Could he be trusted? More to the point, could she trust herself? Tomorrow she planned to work on the painting. Had she made the right decision to work so close to Tobias?
*
Flora had learnt a hard lesson in who to trust. The newspaper in front of her told her, in no uncertain terms, just what a love rat Dylan Delany was. A picture of him stared up at her, with his dark curls, twinkling blue eyes and confident smile. The caption read:
Champion Jockey Celebrates
and it was followed by a kiss-and-tell story of how Sadie Stringfellow had been ravaged by the rampant jockey. Tears stung Flora’s eyes. What a complete fool she’d been, with her crush on Dylan allowing him use her. The complete bastard!
*
Finula was reading the article, too, while spluttering with laughter. The story even mentioned how Sadie had handcuffed Dylan to the bed, the little minx. The Templar had got a mention, which could be good for business, all publicity being good publicity. Although she wasn’t sure her dad would see it that way. Probably best to keep the paper away from him.
*
Dylan sat at his breakfast bar with a strong, black coffee and read all about his ‘energetic lovemaking’ and ‘athletic physique’ with a wry smirk. Could have been worse, he thought, could have been called a shit shag. Then another thought entered his head. Flora. Guiltily he gulped his coffee. The girl worshipped him. What had he done to her? She was bound to have read the article. He pictured the way her fresh, innocent face lit up with joy at seeing him. They’d met quite a few times in the stables and as well as the sex, he’d actually got to know her. He found her easy to talk to, not just because he didn’t have to make an effort, but she was uncomplicated, honest and had no hidden agenda, unlike the Sadie Stringfellows of this world.
He paused and took another gulp of coffee. The seeds of blame took root and began to gradually grow. He remembered not wanting Flora to be there at The Templar. Why? he asked himself. She would have appreciated what he’d experienced. It wasn’t all about winning and celebrating, but the time, sacrifice and preparation it took to get there. He very nearly lost that race. She would know that. Flora understood horses, how unpredictable they could be, and she knew how to handle them. He’d seen how they responded to her gentle yet firm way; she was a natural around them. Flora’s routine meant being the first to arrive early in the stables and the last to leave. Her commitment was commendable, especially for one so young. Dylan had often thought she was wasted at Treweham Hall stables and should be working in a racing yard, where her efforts could really be appreciated. On impulse he scrolled through his mobile and rang the local florist, having used them several times before.
‘Hi, I need you to send a dozen red roses, please.’
Instantly recognising his voice, the florist replied with humour, ‘And who to this time, Dylan?’
‘Flora, at Treweham Hall stables. Make sure my name’s on them.’ Then he added, ‘In fact, put “With love from your Dylan”.’ Did that sound a bit cheesy? Probably, but these young things liked that kind of thing, didn’t they?
*
Tobias didn’t have time to read the morning’s newspapers. He was up very early, busy with his plan, which meant paying old Ted a visit in the nursing home. Ted was pleased to see him. The Cavendish-Blakes had always been good to him over the years and Tobias had often called in to his cottage for a quick visit. Ted considered Tobias to be a gentleman and a credit to the Treweham Hall estate.
‘Tobias, good to see you.’ Ted, too, was up early and sat in the sun lounge with a tartan rug over his lap. He’d grown accustomed to being looked after and, apart from missing Zac dreadfully, had adapted to his new life well.
‘And you too, Ted. How are things?’
‘Not bad at all. What brings you here?’
Tobias sat down next to him. ‘Ted, it’s about your cottage. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to return to it? It’s still there if you want it.’
Ted sadly shook his head. ‘Thank you, Tobias, but I’m staying put. I feel safer here, if you know what I mean?’
‘Of course. I understand. In that case, I’ll be taking it over.’ Ted’s cottage belonged to the Treweham Hall estate. The Cavendish-Blakes had rented it out to Ted years ago as an almshouse.
‘To rent out or sell?’ Ted was wondering what would happen to his little cottage and whose home it would become.
‘To live in,’ replied Tobias. Ted’s face creased with a knowing smile; he might be old, but he was no fool.
‘Megan’s a grand lass. Look after her for me, won’t you?’
Tobias laughed to himself. Was he that transparent? ‘I certainly intend to, Ted.’
