Saving Nathaniel (34 page)

'What about her?'

'Think about it, Nat. If I were living here with you, it would mean she would be
my
housekeeper as well.'

'And?' Then he understood. 'And seeing as she's your sister and not very happy about the situation…she could very easily make both our lives a living hell.'

'Give that man a cigar.'

Even before they had been fully formed, Nat's plans began to crumble before his eyes. 'Ah, crap,' he moaned.

'Never mind.' She touched her head to his shoulder. 'We'll think of something else.'

They sat together quietly for a few moments before he asked, 'Do you want to go out?'

'Out?'

'Out. We'll go somewhere. I'll treat you to dinner; somewhere nice. I've never taken you out. Come to think of it, I don't think we've ever even left the house together.'

'That sounds nice,' she said, already on her feet, ready to go. 'Yes, let's do that.'

He looked down at his shirt, hanging loose and creased outside his jeans and rubbed his hand over his chin. 'Give me a few minutes to tidy myself up,' he said, heading for the door. 'Don't go away.'

She picked up his newspaper and sat on the window seat to read and wait. He returned a mere fifteen minutes later, clean-shaven, wearing a fresh blue shirt open at the collar, tailored trousers, a casual jacket and smart, brown brogues.

'Ready?' He held out his hand to her.

'Ready,' she replied and took it.

Chapter 30

Nat opened the passenger door of the Range Rover and helped Megan into her seat. He reached across and fastened her seatbelt.

With him leaning over her, she could smell his aftershave - the one with a subtle but spicy hint of sandalwood and she experienced a butterfly tickle deep in her stomach, exactly as she had the first day she met him. He withdrew from the car. Their eyes met briefly and they exchanged fleeting smiles.

'That's not too tight is it?' he asked.

'No, it's just right, thank you.'

He closed the door, skirted the vehicle and clambered into the driver's seat. He made a few minor adjustments to the mirror and inserted the ignition fob into the slot. He was about to push the
'engine start'
when Megan put her hand over it. 'You are alright to drive aren't you?'

'Aye, of course I am. I passed my test years ago; I have a licence to prove it.'

'You know what I mean, Nat,' she said, looking at her hand, not at him. 'Answer me honestly, when did you last have a drink?'

'I've had nothing today.'

'When Nat?'

'Yesterday. Two small beers with my tea, and I didn't even finish them.'

She studied him, her piercing blue gaze unwavering. 'I swear,' he said. If he looked away he was lying, and they both knew it.

She removed her hand. He pushed the button. 'I'd never risk hurting you, Meg.'

He reversed the vehicle, turned it around, and it crunched its way down the gravel driveway to the ever-open wrought iron gates. Pausing at the roadway to allow a lorry to pass, he made the left turn towards town.

She ran her fingers over the car's glossy walnut fascias and out of curiosity, opened the glove box. She didn't know what she was really expecting to see but found nothing unusual at all - a pair black leather driving gloves, a packet of hand wipes, a few pieces of paper that looked like petrol receipts, a packet of mints and some loose change for the parking meter.

'Nosey,' Nat chided.

She closed the glove box and sat back in her seat laying her arms along the armrests, caressing the warm, cream coloured leather. With her head against the backrest, she could see Nat's eyes through the rear view mirror. She watched them as he concentrated on the road ahead. He handled the large vehicle with easy confidence and she felt completely safe.

'You're not really going to get rid of this beauty are you?' she said.

'It's just a car. I should really trade it in for something smaller and more practical.'

'And that would be a crying shame.'

'Why, do you like it?'

She bounced in her seat. 'I
love
it.'

'It's a monstrous affectation.'

'It's beautiful. It makes a statement.'

He snorted. 'And what does it say?'

'It says, 'I'm here, I'm important, get out of my way, I'm coming through'.'

He laughed. 'What it really says is that I have too much money and nothing better to spend it on.'

'Nonsense. There's no such thing as too much money. What you have here is a shedload of class.'

He chuckled again. 'You wouldn't say that if you had to fork out for the running costs. It has pretty unrespectable gas mileage and drinks fuel like you drink tea. It costs a fortune to insure and the road tax rate is punitive. The price of a new tyre alone beggars belief!'

'So why'd you buy it then?'

'I really liked the colour.'

It was Megan's turn to laugh. 'I thought only women did that?'

He took a moment to give his attention to navigating a junction. With it safely done, he continued the conversation. 'Do you want to have a drive?'

She shook her head emphatically. 'Me…drive this…not on your life.'

'Why not?'

'It's far too big and I'm a rubbish driver. I'm always bumping into things. I don't want to spoil her.'

'Her?'

'All cars are female, like ships.'

'I never understood that. Why are all ships female?'

'Because they are sharp up the front end and nicely rounded at the rear.'

'Aye, now I see. That makes perfect sense.'

She twisted in her seat to look over her shoulder at the rear seats and the luggage space beyond. 'Look at all that space, you could live in here.'

'We might have to,' he said.

She laid her hand on his leg and gave it a light squeeze. 'Have you ever…you know…?'

'What?' He glanced over and saw her mischievous grin. She wiggled her eyebrows and cocked her head towards the rear of the car.

'What?' Then the penny dropped. 'Good God, woman! Have you no sense of propriety? It's just been valeted.'

Unexpectedly, he drew the car to the side of the road and turned off the engine. 'Come on,' he said. 'I want to show you something.'

They got out of the car and he took her by the hand, leading her a little way up the road and onto a metal bridge which spanned the river.

The noise was deafening and it, and the huge amount of tea-coloured water roiling over rocks and churning the water to froth, made the bridge vibrate. A ray of sun caught up in the spray, formed a pale rainbow which hung over the turbulent pool.

He put his arm around her shoulder and pointed to a spot where the water was particularly rough. 'Watch,' he yelled.

She could hardly hear him above the roar of the water. 'What? I can't hear you.'

He pointed first at his eyes, then at the water.

'What for?'

'You'll see.'

Within a few moments a large, silver fish leapt clear of the water and up the deluging waterfall. 'Oh!' She exclaimed. 'Did you see that?'

'They're salmon,' he shouted close to her ear. 'It's the spring run taking advantage of the spate.'

She nodded her understanding. 'There, another one,' she cried, pointing.

Nat stopped watching the water. His eyes were on Megan, mindful of her safety over the tumultuous water, yet taking great pleasure in her bright-eyed, childish excitement. She clapped her hands with glee as another fish leapt, and another.

'How wonderful,' she bawled at the top of her voice, hardly hearing her own words. 'Thank you for showing me.'

'You're welcome.' He turned her toward him, took her happy face in his hands and gathering all the love he possessed within him, kissed it into her.

In town, they parked under a tree in a secluded corner of the car park, and walked arm in arm, up and down the main street, browsing in the shop windows. Holding hands, they strolled through the park, pausing to sit on a bench by the boating lake to watch the ducks and swans gliding across the water.

They abandoned the promised expensive restaurant meal in favour of relaxed conviviality. They sat in the car, eating a fish supper with their fingers and drinking weak, barely warm coffee from Styrofoam cups.

'That was the most delicious meal I've eaten for a long time,' she said, licking salt and vinegar from her fingers. 'I'm stuffed.' She wiped her mouth on a paper napkin.

'Good company makes all the difference,' he said. He reached into the glove box and took out the packet of wipes, offering her one and taking one himself. Evidently, he didn't want any greasy fingermarks on his fine leather seats. They cleaned their hands and added the used wipes to the accumulating debris. He gathered it all up into a neat bundle.

'I'll just get rid of this,' he said. 'And then I'll just pop to the…er…' He pointed to a small concrete block housing public conveniences.

She smiled at his awkwardness. 'You can say toilet, Nat. It's not a dirty word.'

He harrumphed. 'I won't be a minute.'

She watched him deposit the rubbish in the nearby bin, walk across the grass and disappear into the building.

When he got back into the car a few minutes later, she was staring pensively out of the side window and didn't acknowledge his return.

'Penny for them,' he said.

'Sorry. I didn't hear you come back.'

'You were away with the faeries there, what were you thinking about?'

She put her head against the headrest. 'I was just thinking that just over a year ago my life wasn't worth the effort it took to get out of bed in a morning. I lived in a crappy town sharing a house with my Dad, divorced and pissed off, unappreciated and underpaid at work...'

'And now?'

'Now, I think I'm the luckiest woman alive. I live in this lovely place, surrounded by wonderful people and I'm in love with the most charming, handsome man I've ever known.'

'Interesting,' Nat said. 'Do I know him?'

'You might. He's gorgeous, very sweet with lovely, expressive eyes and the most delicious smile that lights up his whole face.'

'I think I hate him,' he sniffed.

'You couldn't if you tried,' she said and blinked away the moistness that had grown in her eyes. Nat leaned into her and kissed her cheek. She put her hand to his face. 'I think I'd like you to take me home now please, Nat.'

It was almost dark when they reached the outskirts of Kirkton. The drive back had taken just over twenty minutes and had passed with only the lightest conversation. They passed through the village centre and out the other side to approach the entrance to Struan Lodge. Nat did not indicate or slow down to make the right turn. He continued on the road past his gates.

'You've missed the turning, Nat,' said Megan, looking back over her shoulder. 'Did you forget where you live?'

'I'm taking you home, like you wanted,' he said, perplexed.

'Not that home, silly.' She put her hand on his thigh. 'I want to go home with you.'

He touched the brakes and made a sharp sweep left into the bus stop bay, his sudden manoeuvre causing the vehicle behind to honk his horn and swerve to avoid a rear end collision. He waved his apology to the driver, who returned an offensive gesture with his fingers.

When the road was clear, he did a U-turn and retraced the route back to his gated entrance.

Under the glare of the security light, he drew up outside the garage and turned off the motor. Megan undid her seatbelt and retrieved her bag from the footwell. Nat skipped around to her side, opened her door and helped her down.

As they passed the front of the vehicle, he stopped and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket. To her astonishment, he spit on the cloth and wiped at a spot on the windscreen of the car.

'Squashed fly,' he explained as he re-pocketed the handkerchief.

Megan, silently shaking her head at the scale of his fastidiousness, took his hand and led him along the path to the back door.

Chapter 31

Nat retrieved a bottle of wine from the fridge and with a well-practised hand, extracted the cork with a muted
pop
. They toasted each other's good health.

'Shall we go into the sitting room, we can relax in there?' Megan suggested. She didn't want to go into his study. She had seen enough of that room to last her a lifetime.

'I can think of somewhere much more comfortable,' he said.

He took her by the hand and, tugging her along behind him, led her to and up the stairs, to his own bedroom.
As they crossed the threshold, Rebecca's words rang in her head.

'In his bed or in yours...his bed was her bed, Joanna's bed. He never uses his own bed. It's sacred.'