The Pleasures of Spring (31 page)

The dull ache in Andy’s leg woke him. Fuck it. He was too young to be getting old. But being shot did that to a guy, even if it was almost five years ago. Thank god the pain hadn’t affected his cock. He cupped the stiffening organ in his hand and opened his eyes. In the dim half-light of the bedroom he came fully awake. Something was wrong.

There was no one else in the room.

He rolled over. The empty pillow beside him confirmed his suspicions. He was missing a redhead. Idly, he stretched out his hand, but the cold sheet beside him made him sit up in the bed. Roz had been gone for a while.

He sat up and reached for his watch. Almost 9am. Shit. Bounding out of bed, he pulled on a pair of sweat pants. Without bothering to hunt for a T-shirt or shoes, he hurried down the corridor, checking the bathroom on the way. No water in the tub, no residual scent of the lotions and potions that women were so fond of.

The first hint of alarm pumped through his veins. He quickened his pace and, without bothering to knock, he entered her room. The bed was neatly made as if it hadn’t been slept in. That didn’t mean anything. Roz was almost compulsively tidy. She would have made her bed. Pulling open the wardrobe doors he scanned the contents. It contained the clothes he had bought for her in Belfast. She hadn’t packed for Paris yet. Maybe she wanted to go for a
last ride before they left? If he hurried, he might be able to catch her.

He returned to his room and dressed quickly. Grabbing his phone from the chipped antique dish on the dresser, Andy hurried downstairs.

Maggie was already busy in the kitchen.

‘Have you seen Roz this morning?’ Andy hated that even as he strived for casual, he sounded anxious. Maggie wasn’t fooled for an instant.

‘No. The lads were here earlier but they didn’t mention seeing her. Had a row, did ye?’ Her knowing smile taunted him.

Fuck, he didn’t have time for this. If Roz hadn’t gone riding, where was she?

Something softened in Maggie’s face at his expression. ‘Better snap that one up while you can. She’s well able for you.’

She was right. Roz was well able for him. She suited him more than any woman he had ever known. Despite the differences in their upbringing, she matched him in ways he had never expected.

Andy made a quick trip to the stables. She wasn’t there, none of the lads had seen her and the horses were all accounted for, so she hadn’t gone out riding. Maybe she was with his mother.

Unlike Dougal, Poppy survived on four or five hours’ sleep. Loath to disturb his father after a late night, he made his way to Poppy’s favourite haunts. The conservatory was empty. So was her studio. Her brushes and tools were cleaned and laid out for another day of work.

On the way to his parents’ room, he breathed a sigh of relief when he met his mother in the hall, still wearing her dressing gown.

‘Wasn’t it a wonderful evening?’ she said. ‘And there’s a lovely photograph of Roz in the
Belfast Telegraph
.’

Andy snatched the paper from her hands. On the front page, a smiling Roz was framed by the O’Sullivans. Fuck. He had warned her not to go to the ball. Niall would have a fit when he saw it.

‘Yes, Mum. But have you seen her this morning?’ He didn’t realize how desperate he sounded until he heard the words out loud.

‘No. I presumed she was sleeping. Are you two still arguing?’

‘It’s nothing,’ he said, but his words sounded hollow.

He had tied her up in the back of a car. Used sensual torture as a weapon and had never gotten around to talking to her and telling her the important things. That he loved her. That he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

‘You bloody asshole,’ he muttered under his breath as he turned and hurried down the stairs. He pulled his phone from his pocket and rang her.

The number you have dialled is out of service. The user may be out of range or have the unit powered off
.

He shouldn’t have let her out of his sight. Could she have taken one of the cars?

‘Andrew,’ his mother called after him. ‘If you’ve upset that girl …’

‘It’s okay, Mum.’

The garage contained its full complement of cars. No one had seen her. She hadn’t eaten, gone riding or left the estate unless it was on foot. Or someone took her.

Could Hall have tracked her to Lough Darra? The prospect was too awful to contemplate. The only thing he was sure of was that Roz was gone. He was willing to bet his favourite Glock on it.

He was behind the wheel of the Jeep before he realized that he had no plan and that he had to file a report that he had lost his client. ‘Fuck fuck fuckety fuck.’

He thumped his fist on the steering wheel. He had to talk to Niall and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

Andy punched the number into his phone and a sleepy-voiced Reilly answered. ‘Bloody boggers,’ she snapped when she realized who was calling. ‘I didn’t get to bed ’til after four. Don’t you ever sleep?’

‘Roz is gone,’ he said starkly.

‘What do you need?’ Fully alert now, Reilly was already on the job.

‘A phone trace.’ He rattled off her number.

For a few minutes, the sound of Reilly’s keyboard clicked over the phone. Andy tapped the steering wheel impatiently.

Reilly yawned. ‘If this is right, she’s in the middle of the Irish Sea, somewhere between Ireland and Scotland.’

Roz had taken the ferry? The devious wee bitch. Of course she would. She had no passport and she could have hopped a ferry easily. ‘Which one?’

‘Do I sound like a magician?’

‘Sorry, Reilly. Please. Pretty please.’

Another yawn. ‘Hold on ’til I check.’

More clicking on the keyboard. ‘Looks like the Larne to Cairnryan ferry. It’s not due in port for another two hours.’

‘Get someone up there. I want her picked up when she gets off that ship.’

‘Andy, there could be a hundred people on board, to say nothing of freight. Do you know what the big guy will do to me if I send a dozen guys up there?’

Andy was beyond caring. ‘Send them. I’ll take the blame.’

‘On your head be it. I’ll call you back when I have their report.’

Andy disconnected the call. If Roz was on the way to Scotland, there was nothing he could do until she got there. The team would pick her up for her own protection. Damn it. Why had she run? Why had she disappeared in the middle of the night without talking to him?

He replayed the events of the previous evening in his mind, analysing every word, every gesture. She had been angry about the photograph, jealous even, but they had made up. Hadn’t they? The physical connection between them was off the scale. He had never known anyone like her. Okay, she was the worst submissive in the world. She fought him every inch of the way, but, god, she was worth the battle.

Andy glanced at his watch. He couldn’t hang around here waiting for news. It would drive him crazy. He made his way back to the house. Maybe he could go for a run about the estate.

Ninety minutes later, he was out of breath and sweating. The run had turned into a search of the back roads and ditches. His imagination produced ever worsening
scenarios. Was she alone or with Hall? Was she even on the damned ship at all?

He took a quick shower and while he was changing a tap came on the bedroom door.

‘Andy?’ Poppy’s voice came from the corridor outside. ‘We have visitors. Can you come down?’

He was stuck here. He could do nothing until the team from Scotland reported in. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. They were meant to be together. He would find her. This was no more than a bump in the road. They would look back on it and laugh at how foolish they had both been. Over the fireplace the ancient family crest mocked him.
Non Oblitus
. Not forgetful.

He couldn’t forget her. Roz was emblazoned on his soul like a brand and he wouldn’t give up trying until he found her.

‘Andy.’ His mother called again.

‘Coming, Mum.’

Downstairs in the library, the fire was already blazing and Maggie was serving coffee to his parents and their visitors, Claudine Blé and Anton Fox. In a pair of slim-fitting pants and a fine wool sweater, Claudine was sexy in an understated way that Frenchwomen did so well. Her companion was wearing pale pants and a loud tweed jacket which made him look like a well-dressed pimp.

‘Fox.’ Andy nodded a greeting before kissing Claudine on both cheeks.

‘Monsieur Campbell McTavish promised us a tour of the stables and some riding.’ Claudine smiled with delight at the prospect.

‘I’m not sure that I’ll accompany you on the ride,’ Fox
drawled. ‘I was looking forward to becoming reacquainted with your lovely companion.’

‘Isn’t it a small world,’ Poppy said before taking another sip of her coffee. ‘Mr Fox knew Roz when she worked in Paris.’

Worked in Paris? The knowing smirk on his face made Andy itch to punch him.

‘And New York,’ Fox added. ‘Our gal certainly gets around, doesn’t she?’

His parents were oblivious to the undertone in Fox’s voice, but Andy wasn’t. Was this miserable excuse for a man the reason why Roz was upset last night? Had he been baiting her all evening? Andy fought back the urge to throttle the oily bastard.

Dougal set down his cup. ‘If we’re all finished, why don’t we go to the stables?’

‘Tell Roz I’ll see her when she comes in from riding,’ Poppy said before she returned to her painting. Andy followed Claudine and his father to the yard without telling his mother anything different.

The Frenchwoman had a keen eye for horses and was determined to take his father up on his offer. While she mounted a lively hunter, Fox hung back, clearly nervous.

‘Will you join us, Mr Fox?’ his father asked politely.

‘No, thanks, you go ahead.’

They watched as the others left the yard and headed for the fields. ‘Claudine’s got a great ass,’ Fox remarked. ‘Speaking of which, where is Red?’

Oblivious to the impending danger, he continued to stare at Claudine’s departing figure. ‘What kind of money
does Red charge for a long term gig like this? Now that I’m based in Europe I might be interested in –’

‘Don’t call her Red.’

Fox stilled at the curt tone. ‘There’s no need to be like that. Red is a hot little number. I’d be happy to take her on when you’ve finished with her.’

The McTavishes weren’t generally known for killing their guests but Andy was willing to make an exception. If this was what Roz had to put up with all night, no wonder she had disappeared. Fox might not have driven her away from him, but his boorish behaviour had certainly encouraged her to run.

Andy glanced around him. There were too many lads around the yard. He needed a bit more privacy if he was going to tear him apart, limb from limb. An open stable door beckoned. ‘Why don’t we finish the tour?’

He propelled an unwilling Fox through the doorway and into the dim space beyond. ‘Take off your jacket.’

‘Why?’ Fox asked, slowly realizing that he might be in trouble.

‘Because I’m going to beat the crap out of you and Claudine might notice that you’ve been playing in the dirt.’

‘You’re going to fight me? Because of some little –’

Andy grabbed him by the jacket and slammed him up against the wall. ‘Do not finish that sentence,’ he warned Fox, then let him go.

The other man sneered at him. ‘Don’t take on more than you can chew. I was on the college boxing team.’ Andy stood back while Fox removed his jacket and hung
it on a hook. He assumed a boxing stance, knees bent, fists raised in front of him.

Jesus wept. He wouldn’t last two seconds against a Ranger. Trying to rein in his rising temper, Andy kept his arms loosely at his sides. ‘What did you say to Roz last night? Did you insult her?’

His opponent’s face creased in a frown and then he shook his head. ‘You can’t insult a whore.’

Andy lunged, sending them both to the ground. Fox gasped as the air was driven from his lungs. Boxing champion, my ass. The idiot couldn’t defend himself against a five year old. Fox swung his fist wildly towards Andy’s head and Andy rolled off him, landing in a pile of straw.

‘Are you out of your mind?’ His opponent struggled to a sitting position and brushed the straw from his pants. ‘I wanted a bit of fun but Red ignored me. She was busy playing lady of the manor, chatting about buying horses with that airline guy.’

O’Sullivan. Was he the reason that Roz had left? Andy climbed to his feet.

‘Then his mom joined in with some talk about weddings and Red got up and left.’

‘And that was it? You didn’t say anything to her.’

Fox’s eyes narrowed. ‘I might have teased her a little, but she wasn’t up for it. Why don’t you go ask Red? She’ll tell you.’

Andy reached down and pulled the other man to his feet by his shirt collar before slamming him against the wall. His face turned purple as the collar bit into his neck, and a choking sound emerged.

Andy’s heart pounded. He wanted to kill him. Between the O’Sullivans and Fox, they had pushed her too far, convinced her that she couldn’t stay. He leaned forwards until they were face to face and he could see the nervous tic that fluttered beneath Fox’s right eye. Outside, the sound of horses whinnying brought him back to reality