Hard Choices (16 page)

Why? Because I might like to invest in a wind farm too, that’s why.

I don’t say that, though. Instead, I shrug and sign, “Just curious.” And I make a mental note to drop a line to Max Furrowes as soon as possible to ask him to check out Darke Associates generally and this project specifically, and let me know what level of risk it might represent.

* * * *

The barn at Greystones has been beautifully transformed into a magical wedding venue. The whole place is draped in oyster-coloured satin and light blue ribbon a foot wide. The floor is covered in a light blue carpet, sprinkled with some sort of petals, and about forty satin-covered seats have been brought in and arranged in rows. There are no animals in residence, except perhaps a few barn cats in the rafters, but any rustling from them is more than compensated for by the superb sound system playing something classical and suitable for the occasion. No doubt Eva’s influence at work, and she is to perform later herself so I’m looking forward to that. I gather she’s good.

I know from talking to Ashley last night that the actual ceremony is going to be low key. When she arrives Ashley will look gorgeous in an ivory gown, her hair intricately arranged in a delight of ringlets and pearls, cascading down her back. Tom is already here, splendid in his morning suit, and Nathan is decked out to match, as befits the best man. Eva is maid of honour, and of course Rosie is a bridesmaid and will follow Ashley down the aisle in a beautiful lemon dress.

We’re all quietly assembled, seated, waiting for Ashley’s entrance. Tom looks distinctly ill at ease, as if he somehow expects something to go wrong even at this late stage. I expect all bridegrooms look a bit like that.

Apart from Nick and I, Ashley’s side of the barn is populated by her sisters, several assorted Appleyards, Summer, and a number of people I couldn’t name, probably business associates. By no means would I describe her side of the gathering as depleted. But by the time the ceremony actually starts the proudest individual in the barn is, without doubt, Bajram Balci, Father of the Bride. His smile is absolutely beaming as he walks his daughter slowly down the aisle between the rows of seats. And Tom’s smile is electric as the familiar strains of the
Wedding March
announce Ashley’s arrival, and he turns to watch her approach. He loves her, absolutely adores her, and the love is shining in his eyes. I wonder if Nick will ever look at me like that. I glance sideways as she passes, and see a similar expression on Ashley’s face. These two people were made for each other.

The ceremony is surprisingly brief and delightfully free of frills. The registrar leads us all through the necessary statements and promises, and in almost no time she’s leaning forward to inform Tom that he may now kiss his bride. He does, then thinks better of that and lifts her up for a huge hug before swirling her around. “I love you, Mrs Shore,” he murmurs, but the cunningly discreet microphones arranged around the space pick up every word and we all hear. And cheer.

“My turn.” Nathan politely steps forward to claim his kiss, and there follows a flurry of handshaking, hugging, kissing and congratulations as we all leave our seats to join the melee. Then it’s time for the party.

There’s a huge marquee set up in the yard where we first met Tom and Nathan last week, and this is where the reception is to take place. I’m very impressed—a lot of thought and work has gone into creating this perfect day. I say as much to Eva as we share a toast to the happy couple.

“Yes. It’s a sort of dummy run, you might say. I know Tom and Ashley are thinking of adding a wedding venue business to the care farming and other enterprises they have going on here and they wanted to see how it worked. Ashley found it all a bit wearing, though. She did most of the arranging, but basically she’s an artist. She wants to spend her time taking pictures and creating her canvases, not booking florists and caterers and marquees. She’s done a good job, and this is a lovely wedding, but I don’t think her heart’s in this sort of work. She’ll need to hire a coordinator or administrator or something. Same goes for the festival. Neither Tom nor Nathan likes dealing with all the detail of putting on a massive public event like that.”

I glance at her across our glasses. “Do they have anyone in mind?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Why? Do you?”

I hesitate, not sure how much to interfere in the lives, and businesses, of others. Still, it’s up to them to decide whether to take my suggestions seriously. So I nod, and gesture towards Summer, on her way back to rejoin us after a visit to the loo. I know this would be right up her street—she’d dance all over this sort of work, just like she dances all over my chaotic apartment and any other part of my life she gets her hands on. If she were to work for Tom and Nathan it would mean she’d not be returning to Kendal after all, but this place is no more than two hours away. And at least I’d know where she was. And it’d give me a good reason to come back often. So I have my own reasons, I guess, for wanting to see her installed here.

Eva looks from me, to Summer, then back again. “I don’t know Summer very well, but I think Ashley does. Will you mention this to her?”

“Who? Ashley or Summer?”

“Well, either, or both, I suppose.”

“Ashley first, probably. Do you think she’d consider it?”

Eva’s answer is immediate, certain, “Yes, I think she would. She and Ashley go back a few years. I won’t go into the details because it’s Ashley’s story to tell, and I’m sure she will, but the bottom line is she feels that Summer did her a big favour back then. If she wants the job, I reckon it’s as good as hers.”

By unspoken agreement we drop the subject as Summer joins us at our table, and picks up her wine glass. Eva leans forward to refill it.

“Lovely party. What were you two discussing just then? Looked serious.” Summer looks from me to Eva and back again as she asks her question.

I wave airily, and by way of diversion ask Eva what plans Ashley and Tom have for a honeymoon. The happy couple are doing the rounds of their guests, and watching her across the marquee I can’t help thinking that Ashley looks tired.

“They’re spending a fortnight in Side, in Turkey, at her father’s hotel. Then I think Tom’s booked a Mediterranean cruise. The cruise is a surprise, so not a word to Ash. But not immediately. They’re holding off for a month. Quite a lot going on here just now and I know Tom doesn’t want to be away until after the wind farm finance issue is settled. It’s his project really. He’s put in a lot of effort steering it all through planning.”

My ears prick up. “Nick mentioned the wind farm. I think he may be considering investing in it.”

Eva nods. “That’s good, it all helps. I hope he has deep pockets, though—we’re still about five million short. We could raise the gap funding from the banks, and if necessary I suppose we will. But no one wants to put this place or Black Combe up as collateral. So, Plan A is to raise as much as possible by attracting new investors.” She pauses to refill all our glasses now. “There’s a board meeting in two days, and that’s when the decision gets made, whether to approach the banks or continue to seek out the finance elsewhere.”

Summer’s attention has been captured too. “Board meeting? What board?”

Eva smiles. “Well, maybe that’s a grand term for it. It’s actually pretty informal. It’s the board of Darke Associates, and basically that consists of Tom and Nathan, me and Ashley. Grace occasionally turns up, and Dan if he’s around. The boardroom’s our kitchen. I gather Nick’s intending to be at the meeting this week, though, probably because he’s considering putting some money in.”

My ears prick up, and my hands are quick to sign, “Would I be allowed to attend too? Who do I need to ask?”

Eva looks at me, surprised. “Well, I daresay, as you’ll be in the house, you’d be welcome. It’s not as though we’d expect you to sit outside on the stairs. Perhaps the person you need to ask, though, is Nick.”

And that’s just it, isn’t it? If—when—I ask Nick he’ll probably be fine about me being at the meeting, but he’ll naturally wonder why I want to be there. And I’ll have to tell him. A direct question, I can’t lie. Then, he’ll hit the roof. I’ve kept the truth, the full truth, to myself for so long now that I just know he’s going to go ballistic. He’ll see it as dishonesty, deliberate deceit. And he’ll be right. I know that the sooner I come clean now, the sooner he’ll apply whatever discipline he deems appropriate. And I have no illusions, it
will
be harsh. But eventually we’ll be able to move on.

Unless he just dumps me. What if he decides I’m just too much hassle, that I never learn, that all his efforts are wasted on me? Since day one I’ve been under no illusions about the qualities he most values in a submissive, and honesty is right up there at the top of the list. He said he loves me, that he intends to claim me—indeed he already has. He wants to marry me. But he doesn’t really know me.

“Freya? Freya, are you all right?” Summer’s worried voice breaks into my thoughts.

I startle, then nod and sign that I’m fine. I sip my champagne thoughtfully, and turn to Eva. “I’ll ask Nick. And if it’s okay with him, and I want to speak at the meeting, will you translate for me?”

“Yes, of course. Or I’m sure Nick would.”

Well, that remains to be seen. Depends how pissed off with me he is when he finds out I’ve been sitting on forty-two million pounds that I sort of forgot to mention. But I smile, thank her, and we move on to chat about the delicious-looking buffet we’ve yet to sample, Ashley’s dress, and what a truly lovely wedding it’s been. I can’t remember the last time I had a normal conversation like this, one where all the others understand my signing and we don’t have that clumsy, stilted palaver of someone having to translate while everyone else waits politely for me. Yes, I do like this crowd. And just like Nick, setting all commercial considerations aside, that’s the main reason I want to buy into their business.

For me the highlight of the day, apart from the actual ceremony, is Eva’s violin performance. Christ, she’s good. Even Rosie can manage a decent tune and together they do a rendition of
Bolero
, which I gather is a sort of family favourite. Then Eva plays another piece on her own, which she tells us is called
Palladio
. It sounds vaguely familiar, and when I mention that to Summer she tells me it was the theme tune to one of the
Pirates of the Caribbean
movies. After
Palladio
Eva decides to lighten the mood and kicks off the dancing with some country and western favourites. The Appleyards waste no time in getting started, prancing happily all over the floor in some sort of Yorkshire version of a barn dance. Soon we’re all swept up in the action, skipping up and down and whirling around madly as Eva belts out lively tunes on her fiddle, aided and abetted by a delighted Rosie.

* * * *

The morning after the wedding Nick and I are snuggled in our bed at Black Combe, and I’m still tingling from the three—or was it four—fabulous orgasms he’s just delivered. I was woken by the delicious sensation of his tongue on my clit. He’d started while I was still asleep and the throbbing nub was already swollen and standing to attention before I even knew the party was on. The moment he was sure I was awake, though, he revved up the action by sliding his fingers, two I think but it may have been three, deep into my pussy. I writhed under his hands, not sure if I was supposed to come or whether I should try to contain myself.

“Come for me, sweetheart. Now.” Happily for me, Nick soon dispelled any uncertainty.

His other hand was soon in play too, and I climaxed hard and fast as he slipped one long finger into my arse. I can’t believe I once resisted this intimacy. It really is truly and absolutely fabulous. Nick continued to nibble and suck at my clit and finger-fuck me very thoroughly indeed until the tremors from my orgasm finally died away. Then, leaning across me, he reached into the drawer in the bedside table.

“That should hold you for a while. At least, long enough for me to get this on you.”

I opened my eyes and saw the pretty little clit clip dangling between his fingers. Our normal accessories are safely stowed away back in Cartmel, but Nick did have the foresight to bring some of our smaller, more discreet items with him. There’ll be no impact play—not in someone else’s house, even a fellow Dom, and especially not with children about. But clit clips and nipple clamps, now those are innocuous enough. Especially behind a locked bedroom door.

I lay still, my legs spread wide as Nick deftly slid the clip over my engorged clit. Then he lay between my legs at a right angle to me, propped on one elbow as he admired his handiwork.

“Truly beautiful, my love. Would you like to see?”

I nodded then watched as he slid from the bed and wandered, gloriously naked, across the room to retrieve a small round shaving mirror from the en suite.

Nick spends far too little time naked, in my opinion, and I always appreciate the sight. He has a really, really hot body, beautiful in a wholly masculine way. His bum is small but so, so tight, the muscles defined as he walks. His chest is hard, and looks sort of carved beneath the dusting of fine, brown hair, the nipples small and flat but still very sensitive when he lets me get my hands on them. Or better still my mouth.

He smiled at me as he came back to the bed, completely aware of my scrutiny. “Like what you see, little subbie?”

I nodded then smiled back as he dropped across the bed again, this time arranging the mirror and angling it to give me a perfect view of my decorated clit. “Me too. Especially this. What should we do with it now, do you think?”

I lay back, my eyes closed, quite beyond thinking as the wealth of possibilities flooded my mind. Nick’s low chuckle was sexy, and was followed by the brush of cool air as he blew on the exposed tip. I quivered, clutching the duvet beneath me in my fists. The movement must have attracted his attention.

“I’d like to tie your wrists to the bed. Are you likely to want to talk to me, do you think?”