Brides of Penhally Bay - Vol 3 (31 page)

‘Where are we going?’ Emily demanded as her horse followed Zayed’s out into the apparently endless sand dunes.

‘Not much further,’ he promised, his accent more pronounced than ever since they’d arrived in his homeland.

‘You said that five minutes ago,’ she reminded him, but she didn’t really mind how long the journey took. This was like something out of a fantasy. Just two weeks ago they’d been in Penhally, feeling the heat of the fire as Althorp’s yard had burnt to the ground. Today she was swathed in fine white cotton to ward off the heat of the burning desert sun in Xandar.

And then they rounded the curve of a dune and she knew exactly where he’d brought her and why.

‘A Bedouin tent?’ she asked with a tremulous smile as he lifted her off the pretty little mare.

‘The Xandar equivalent,’ he admitted, as he held out a hand to help her dismount and invite her into the shady interior. ‘If you would like to make yourself comfortable, I will bring you something to eat and drink.’

In a move that had quickly become automatic, Emily stepped out of her shoes by the doorway and trod across a thick, smooth richly patterned carpet that could only be made of silk.

The cushions piled around the low table were covered in silk, too, and in every opulent lustrous shade imaginable.

‘Do I sit on them or lie down?’ she murmured uncertainly to herself.

‘Whichever you prefer,’ he said softly from right behind her as he relieved her of the voluminous robe that had protected her from the heat. Underneath she wore a simple garment, a gift from Zayed in the finest silk, that drifted and clung to her body with the slightest breeze.

When she’d donned it, she’d been almost embarrassed by how much it revealed, but here, alone with Zayed and seeing the gleam it brought to his eyes, it seemed to bring out the sensual side to her nature.

‘Would you like something to eat…some fruit, perhaps? Or can I get you a drink?’

Either would have been lovely, but in spite of the fact that he’d obviously enjoyed himself creating the romantic fantasy he’d described on the day of the fire in Penhally, she could tell that he had something else on his mind.

For just a second she allowed insecurity to persuade
her that he was regretting bringing her to Xandar, but she knew that wasn’t true.

In fact, just today he’d been overjoyed to tell her that the uncle who had been so hungry for power that he had tried to engineer the death of Zayed’s entire family had finally been arrested and imprisoned, and was awaiting trial.

‘Zayed, what’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘Is there a problem with setting up the replacement unit at the hospital?’

His immediate smile was reassurance enough.

‘Not at all,’ he declared confidently. ‘Everything is going to plan without a hitch since the Hananis and their influential family got together with some of the other parents to tell everyone about what we’ve done for their children.’

He sank slightly gingerly onto the pile of cushions beside her and she wondered if she ought to suggest massaging his back to relieve the stiffness. It would probably take a while before his body became accustomed to riding again, but she had every confidence that he would eventually regain most of his mobility.

‘Emily, even the most hard line of the traditionalists were won over by all those successful operations, and especially by all the good things the families had to say about my new colleague, despite the fact that she is a woman. They have made it a source of national pride that as soon as the unit is completed, these operations will all be able to take place in Xandar from now on.’

My new colleague.
There was something almost possessive about the way he’d said those words that had sent a shiver of joy through her, but she couldn’t ignore the shadow she’d seen in his eyes.

‘So what
is
the problem?’ she pressed, knowing that neither of them would be able to relax and enjoy this romantic idyll until they’d discussed whatever it was.

‘While you were getting ready to ride with me, I caught an item on the international news,’ he said reluctantly.

‘And?’ she prompted with a slight frown, wondering what sort of news would put that concerned expression in those gold-shot dark eyes.

‘It seems that when we left Cornwall, the beautiful weather did not last. There were pictures showing that there has been a flash flood in Penhally.’

‘A flood? In Penhally, itself? Was anybody hurt?’ The images of all the people she knew in the town, friends and neighbours right from the first day she’d come to live with her grandmother, flickered before her eyes. ‘How much damage was done?’

‘I did not hear anything about any injuries, but I did see…’ He hesitated briefly before continuing. ‘I am sorry, Emily, but I recognised it from the pictures taken from the helicopters. The house of your grandmother was one of those that were flooded.’

‘Oh, no!’ Emily felt the hot press of tears burning her eyes at the thought that a lifetime’s memories had probably been washed away in a matter of seconds.

None of her belongings would have been damaged because they’d all been removed and put in temporary storage before she and Zayed had left for Xandar. But the house itself, with its solid stone walls and Delabole slate roof and the ancient floorboards polished over the decades to a lustrous dark honey colour, to say nothing of all the
memories attached to every nook and cranny…all that could have been destroyed in the blink of an eye.

And then there would be the aftermath.

She’d seen enough of what had happened after the Boscastle and Crackington Haven floods at first hand to know that by the time the flood damage had been cleared and the repairs had been completed, it would seem like a completely different cottage.

For a moment it felt as if a hand squeezed tightly around her heart when she realised that, with her job at St Piran’s ably filled by one of Zayed’s colleagues, there would now be nothing left to go back to in Penhally.

But, then, why would she want to go back there when everything she wanted was here in Xandar?

‘Zayed, it’s all right,’ she reassured him, reaching up a hand to cup his cheek. ‘It’s always sad when something is destroyed, but it’s only a house several thousand miles away. And as you said when the boatyard went up in flames, it can be replaced with money if I ever wanted to go back to Penhally. It’s people that are important, people that are irreplaceable.’

‘You are certainly irreplaceable,’ he said seriously as he knelt beside her, and she suddenly realised that the moment she’d been waiting for had come. ‘You have become the other half of my soul, Emily Livingston, and now that I have brought you out into the desert in the country of my birth, it is time for you to give me your answer. Will you marry me so that my soul can be whole again?’

‘Oh, Zayed, yes! Of course I’ll marry you,’ she said as she held her arms out towards him. ‘You’re the other half of my soul, too, and I’ll need you for the rest of my life.’

‘Ah, Emily, my Emily,’ he murmured as he took her in his arms and their lips met for the first time since he’d kissed her in the hallway of Beabea’s cottage.

Their kisses quickly became heated after their self-imposed abstinence and Emily had no objection when Zayed began to explore the willing body beneath the garment he’d given her. How could she when she was equally eager to explore the smooth skin and taut muscles of the body she hadn’t touched since that night on the beach in Penhally?

Suddenly Zayed rolled away from her, putting far too many brightly coloured cushions between them as he gazed at her in a strange mixture of disbelief and hope.

‘What’s the matter, Zayed? Did I do something wrong?’ She felt the heat of a blush sweep up her throat and into her face. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t had very much experience at this sort of thing, so you’ll have to tell me what you—’

‘Ah, Emily, my Emily, I love your innocence. It will almost be a shame to destroy it, but…’ He rolled back towards her again and took her hand in his.

‘Since we have been kissing and I have been exploring your body, I have made the discovery that my surgeon did not know everything,’ he said with a gleam in his eyes. ‘He did not know that when my Emily accepted my proposal and kissed me, she would revive the part of me that the doctors could not.’

Emily’s blush grew fiercer still when she followed his downward glance and realised what he was talking about, but she quickly decided that this was no time for maidenly modesty.

‘Hmm. This could be a problem,’ she said seriously, and had to stifle a laugh when Zayed’s face fell.

‘A problem?’ he echoed uncertainly.

‘Well, we aren’t married yet, so Beabea wouldn’t approve if we were to…take advantage of the situation. But…’ She deliberately drew the word out, loving the fact that this powerful man was completely in her thrall for the moment.

‘But?’ he prompted, completely unable to hide his eagerness.

‘But just in case there’s the slightest chance that your doctors were right and this may never happen again,’ she suggested, ‘perhaps…’

‘Perhaps?’ he pressed impatiently and she marvelled at his control. She was also looking forward to the moment when that control broke.

This
, she realised with a burgeoning sense of her own power as a woman,
this
could be the most wonderful game between them, and it was one that could have as many variations as there were hours to their lives.

‘Perhaps we ought to take advantage of it while we can?’ she hinted, and finally lost control of the happy smile she’d been hiding.

‘Ah-h! I was not expecting this to happen, so I have brought nothing with me to protect you,’ he groaned, holding back when all she was longing for was to finally learn what it was to be completely possessed by the man she loved. It was something that she’d believed his injuries had robbed them of and she thought she’d schooled herself to accept that this would never happen, but she’d never thought that they would be this fortunate.

‘I don’t need to be protected,’ she told him eagerly, as a quick mental calculation of dates sent an arrow of excitement through her.

She’d been teasing him, but they both knew that there was very little likelihood that his prowess would only have returned for this one occasion. Still, could they really be so lucky as to conceive a child in the first time they came together?

‘I would never need to be protected from you,’ she whispered as she raised her arms to allow him to slide her silky covering away, feeling powerful and womanly when she saw the gleam in his eyes as they travelled over her nakedness for the first time. ‘I just need to know that I have your love as you have mine.’

‘Ah, my Emily, you have it,’ he said. ‘You have my love, my heart, my soul and my body…for ever!’ And he made them one.

A
WRY
smile curved Eve Dwyer’s lips as the door of St Mark’s Church creaked open then closed again. Somebody was cutting it fine. Very fine. Another five minutes and the wedding ceremony would have begun, and curiously she glanced over her shoulder to see who the latecomer might be only for the smile on her face to freeze.

It was him. His thick black hair might be lightly flecked with grey now, and there were deep lines on his forehead that hadn’t been there twenty years ago, but Eve would have recognised the man walking rapidly towards an empty seat near the front of the church anywhere. Tom Cornish was back in Penhally Bay and, if she hadn’t been sitting in the middle of a packed pew, surrounded by her colleagues from the village’s medical practice, Eve would have taken to her heels and run.

‘Good heavens,’ Kate Althorp, the village’s senior midwife, whispered from Eve’s left. ‘Is that who I think it is?’

Other people were muttering the same thing, Eve noticed, seeing the number of heads suddenly craning in Tom’s direction, the nudges people were giving their neighbours. Not the younger members of the congregation. They wouldn’t remember a Dr Tom Cornish but those aged over forty-five certainly did, and not very kindly if the frowns on some faces were anything to go by.

‘Is that who?’ Lauren Nightingale asked from Eve’s right, but Kate didn’t have time to answer the physiotherapist.

The organist had launched into the wedding march, which meant the bride had arrived. A bride Tom Cornish wouldn’t have known from a cake of soap, Eve thought, gripping her order of service card so tightly that the embossed card bent beneath her fingers. Both Alison Myers and her bridegroom, Jack Tremayne, would have been children when Tom had last been in Penhally Bay so why was he here, and why had he come back when he’d always sworn he never would?

‘Doesn’t Alison look lovely?’ Lauren sighed as the girl walked past them, radiant in a simple long gown of cream satin.

Alison did, but any enjoyment Eve might have felt in the occasion had gone. The flowers in the church, which had smelt so sweet just a few minutes ago, now seemed cloying. The crush of bodies, which had once felt so companionable, now simply felt oppressive, and even the sight of Jack and Alison’s small sons, walking solemnly down the aisle behind Alison, failed to give her pleasure.

‘Eve, are you OK?’

Kate was gazing curiously at her, and Eve faked a smile.

‘I’m fine,’ she murmured. ‘It’s just a bit…crowded.’

The midwife chuckled. ‘Penhally loves a wedding. A christening’s good, but a wedding is the only thing guaranteed to get the whole village out.’

But not Tom Cornish, Eve thought, stiffening slightly as she saw him half turn in his seat. Tom who had once said marriage was a prison he had no intention of ever inhabiting. Tom who’d said he wanted to be free, to travel, and was damned if he was going to rot away in the village in which he had been born.

‘Oh, aren’t they sweet?’ Lauren exclaimed as Alison’s three-year-old son, Sam, and Jack’s equally young son, Freddie, held out the red velvet cushions they were carrying so everyone could see the wedding rings sitting on them.

‘Yes,’ was all Eve could manage as a collective sigh of approval ran round the congregation.

Why was Tom here—
why
? She’d read in a medical magazine a few years back that he’d been appointed head of operations at Deltaron, the world-famous international rescue team, so he should have been somewhere abroad, helping the victims of some disaster, not sitting in the front pew of St Mark’s, resurrecting all her old heartache, and anger, and pain.

‘Eve, are you
quite
sure you’re OK?’ Kate whispered, the worry in her eyes rekindling.

‘I…I have a bit of a headache, that’s all,’ Eve lied. ‘It’s the flowers—the perfume—strong smells always give me a headache.’

Kate looked partially convinced. Not wholly convinced, but at least partially, and Eve gripped her order of service card even tighter.

Pull yourself together, she told herself as the service continued and she found her eyes continually straying away from the young couple standing in front of Reverend Kenner towards Tom. For God’s sake, you’re forty-two years old, not a girl any more. Tom probably won’t even remember you, far less recognise you, so pull yourself together, but she couldn’t. No matter how often she told herself she was being stupid, overreacting, all she wanted was to leave. Immediately.

‘Eve, you look terrible,’ Kate murmured when Jack and Alison had walked back down the aisle as man and wife, and everyone in the congregation began to get to their feet. ‘I have some paracetamol in my bag—’

‘Air,’ Eve muttered. ‘I just…I need some fresh air.’

And to get as far away from here as I can before Tom sees me, she added mentally as she hurried to the church door and out into the sunshine. She wasn’t tall—just five feet five—so, if she was quick, she could lose herself amongst the congregation, then hurry down Harbour Road and go home. She’d tell
everyone at the practice on Monday she’d had a migraine, and her colleagues would understand, she knew they would. All she had to do was keep walking, not look back, and—

‘
Eve Dwyer
. By all that’s wonderful, it’s you, isn’t it?’

His voice hadn’t changed at all, Eve thought as she came to a halt, moistening lips that had suddenly gone dry. It was as deep and mellow as it had always been, still with that faint trace of Cornish burr, and she wanted to pretend she hadn’t heard him, but she couldn’t.

‘Eve Dwyer,’ Tom repeated, shaking his head in clear disbelief as she turned slowly to face him. ‘I never expected to run into you within minutes of coming back to Penhally. It’s Tom Cornish,’ he added a little uncertainly when she stared up at him, completely unable to say a word. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me?’

How could I? she wanted to reply, but she didn’t.

‘Of course I remember you, Tom,’ she said instead. ‘You’re…you’re looking well.’

He was. Up close, she could see he was heavier now than he had been at twenty-four but on him the extra weight looked good, and the grey in his hair, and the lines on his forehead, gave his face a strength it hadn’t possessed before, but it was his eyes that took her breath away.

For years those startlingly green eyes had plagued her dreams, teasing her, laughing at her, and she’d told herself that time and absence had created an unreal image of him, but they were every bit as green as she had remembered, and every bit as potent, and she had to swallow, hard.

‘So…’

‘So…’

They’d spoken together, and she felt a tingle of heat darken her cheeks.

‘I didn’t realise you knew Alison and Jack,’ she said to fill the silence.

‘Who?’ He frowned.

‘The couple whose wedding you’ve just been at,’ she declared, moving swiftly to one side so the people who were still leaving the church could get past her.

‘Never met either of them in my life,’ he said.

‘Then why come to their wedding?’ she asked in confusion.

‘I arrived in Penhally just before twelve o’clock, found the place deserted, and when I asked at the shop I was told everybody was probably here.’

Which still didn’t explain why he’d come.

‘Tom—’

‘Tom Cornish.’ Kate beamed. ‘What in the world brings you back to Penhally? I thought you were still in the States.’

For a second Tom stared blankly at the midwife, clearly trying to place her, then grinned. ‘Kate Templar, right?’

‘Kate Althorp now, Tom.’ She laughed. ‘Have been for years.’

And he hadn’t answered Kate’s question either, Eve thought.

‘Are you coming to the reception?’ Kate continued, waving to Reverend Kenner as he hurried towards his car. ‘It’s a buffet at The Smugglers’ Inn so there’ll be plenty of food, and I’m sure Alison and Jack would be delighted to meet you.’

‘And I’m sure Tom has better things to do than go to a reception that will be packed with doctors and nurses who’ll only end up talking shop,’ Eve said quickly, and saw one of Tom’s eyebrows lift.

‘I can talk shop,’ he said. ‘I’m a doctor, too, remember, so I can talk shop with the best of them.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Afraid I might embarrass you by smashing up the furniture, getting drunk and insulting all your friends?’ he said dryly, and she crimsoned.

‘Of course not,’ she protested, though, in truth, she wasn’t one hundred per cent sure about the insults. ‘I just thought…’
She came to a halt. A small hand had slipped into hers. A hand that belonged to a little girl with long blonde hair who was staring up at her eagerly. ‘Tassie, sweetheart. Where in the world did you spring from?’

‘I’ve been out here since the wedding started,’ the ten-year-old replied. ‘Sitting on the wall, listening to the music.’

‘Oh, Tassie, love, why didn’t you come inside the church?’ Eve exclaimed, her gaze taking in the girl’s thin and worn T-shirt and her shabby cotton trousers, which weren’t nearly warm enough to withstand the cool of the early October day. ‘There’s quite a breeze blowing in from the harbour—’

‘Don’t feel the cold,’ Tassie interrupted, ‘and I’m not really wearing the right sort of clothes for a wedding. Her dress is pretty, isn’t it?’ she added, gazing wistfully towards the lychgate where Alison and Jack were having their photographs taken.

‘Yes, it’s very pretty,’ Eve murmured, her heart twisting slightly at the envy she could see in the little girl’s brown eyes. Eyes which had always seemed too large for her thin face even when she’d been a toddler. ‘Tassie, does your mother know you’re here?’

‘She said I was to get out from under her feet, so I did. She won’t be worried.’

Amanda Lovelace probably wouldn’t, Eve thought with a sigh, but that wasn’t the point.

‘Tassie—’

‘I was wondering whether I could come to the reception?’ the girl interrupted. ‘I heard Mrs Althorp say there would be lots of food, so could I come? I won’t be any trouble—I promise.’

Eve’s heart sank. Normally she couldn’t refuse Tassie anything. The child had so few treats in her life, but she didn’t want to go to the reception. She didn’t want to go anywhere but home.

‘Tassie, the reception’s not really for children,’ she began. ‘It’s more a grown-up thing.’

‘Nonsense!’ Kate exclaimed. ‘My son Jem will be there and he’s only nine. And Alison’s son Sam and Jack’s son Freddie are both going, and they’re only three, so I’m sure Tassie would enjoy it.’

‘Perhaps,’ Eve declared, ‘but I really don’t think—’

‘Oh, I do, most definitely,’ Tom interrupted. ‘If Tom Cornish can be given an invitation then I think this half-pint should have one, too.’

‘But her mother won’t know where she is,’ Eve protested, all too aware she was losing this argument, but determined to give it one last try. ‘She’ll be worried.’

Tom delved into his pocket and produced his mobile phone.

‘Not if we use the wonders of modern technology,’ he declared. ‘Give her a quick call, and then I’ll get to take two beautiful women out to lunch.’

Tassie giggled, and Eve sighed inwardly. There was nothing left to say—no argument she could come up with—and when she reluctantly took the phone Kate beamed.

‘That’s settled, then,’ the midwife said as Eve made her call then handed back the phone to Tom. ‘Tom, Eve can show you how to get to The Smugglers’ Inn if you’ve forgotten where it is, and…’ She stopped in mid-sentence as a dull, metallic thud suddenly split the air followed by the sound of breaking glass. ‘What the…?’

‘Sounds like someone’s just backed into something,’ Tom observed.

‘And no prizes for guessing who the “someone” is.’ Kate groaned as Lauren clambered out of her car, her hand pressed to her mouth.

‘Oh, come on, be fair, Kate,’ Eve protested. ‘The cars are parked really close to one another. Whose car did she hit?’

Kate frowned. ‘Don’t know. It’s a metallic blue Range Rover, not from around here by its number plate, so my guess is it belongs to some flash holidaymaker.’

Tom cleared his throat. ‘I’m afraid I’m the flash holidaymaker, so who is the “she” who has just reversed into my car?’

Kate looked uncomfortably at Eve, and Eve bit her lip.

‘Lauren. She’s our practice physiotherapist, and a really lovely woman, but quite dreadfully accident prone.’

And currently absolutely mortified, Eve thought as Lauren hurried towards them, her cheeks scarlet, her eyes worried.

‘I was certain I had enough space to reverse,’ she exclaimed, ‘absolutely certain, but…Does anyone know who owns the blue Range Rover?’

‘Tom does,’ Eve replied. ‘Tom, this is Lauren Nightingale.’

‘Not Florence?’ he said, and Eve rolled her eyes.

‘Tom, Lauren must have heard that joke about a million times.’

‘A million and one now, actually,’ Lauren said, ‘but that’s not the point. I’m so sorry about your car—’

‘From the looks of it, your Renault’s come off worse,’ Tom interrupted, gazing critically at his car, then at Lauren’s. ‘You’ve scraped quite a bit of paintwork off your tail, whereas you’ve only broken my indicator light cover.’

‘Which I will pay for,’ Lauren insisted, digging into her bag. ‘I have my insurance certificate in here—’

‘Look, how about I simply send you the bill for the repair, and we don’t involve our insurance companies at all?’ Tom suggested. ‘That way you won’t lose your no-claims bonus.’

‘Are you sure?’ Lauren said uncertainly, and, when Tom nodded, she extracted a notebook and a pen from her bag. ‘You’ll need my address for the bill. It’s Gatehouse Cottage. That’s—’

‘The cottage at the bottom of the drive that leads to the Manor House.’ Tom smiled when the physiotherapist looked at him in surprise. ‘I was born in Penhally, lived here for the first twenty-four years of my life, so I know where everything is.’

‘Where are you staying so I can contact you?’ Lauren asked.

‘The Anchor Hotel,’ Tom replied, taking the notebook and pen from Lauren, ‘but I won’t be there long so you’d better have my London address.’

His London address. So he didn’t live in the States any more, Eve thought as she watched him scribble in Lauren’s notebook, and he wasn’t going to be staying in The Anchor for long, but did that mean he was moving back into his old home in Penhally, or what?