Twin Flames (Twin Flames #1)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Y ork, present day

Cara opened the front door.

‘Wow. This is a surprise.’

‘A pleasant one, I hope.’ George flashed Cara a self-deprecating smile. ‘I’m sorry. I should have called first.’

Cara blinked. ‘No, it’s okay. I didn’t expect you, that’s all. You’ve been very quiet.’

‘I had to see you,’ he said.

‘How did you know where I live?’ She’d begun to think it must be over. Three whole days had passed since Seville. She assumed he must be confused so she had decided to back off and leave it to him. His silence had been painful, but what else could she do? And yet suddenly he was here. Her heart stirred and began to clatter as their eyes met.

Here we go again.

‘You mentioned your street and cottage name so I thought it would be easy enough to find you if I drove over here.’

‘I’m pleased you came.’ She gulped and looked away, not knowing what else to say.

‘How have you been?’ said George.

‘Oh, you know—okay. Up and down.’

‘I’m sorry I’ve not been in touch. It’s been mad at work. The York Gallery contacted us and asked to commission the manuscript for a special exhibition.’

‘How fabulous.’ Her reticence dissolved, and she smiled.

‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘Do you think you might invite me in or are we going to stand here all night?’

‘Oh, God. Sorry. Come in.’ Cara stood aside and gestured for him to enter the hallway. ‘Go through to the kitchen, and I’ll make us some tea.’

George admired the Tudor style beams in the kitchen, looked around and said, ‘There’s something about this room. I feel as if I’ve been here before. It’s weird. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Funnily enough, I do. I had that sensation in the bookshop the first time we met. I thought I knew you. It was like deja-vu. I didn’t mention it—I was worried you would think me crazy!’

George laughed and shook his head, an expression of mock denial crossing his features, as he raised his palms upwards.

‘What a beautiful kitchen.’ He looked about with obvious appreciation.

‘Joking aside, I keep having this feeling that I’ve known you forever. I can’t quite explain it.’

She motioned for him to take a seat and then she put the kettle on and busied herself making tea. It was something to do besides look at him. She was so nervous she thought she might spontaneously combust at any moment.

I wonder if that’s what causes me to time travel.

Sometimes, the feeling between them was so intense that it made her jumpy. She searched for something to say to lighten the mood. ‘Time is such an unpredictable quantity. I’ve never thought much about it before, but over the past few days, I’ve been reading some of Einstein’s work.’

Nice job, Cara. Quantum Physics. Light indeed. . .

‘Einstein believed that time is an illusion. It certainly seems like it sometimes, doesn’t it? The past three days have been long,’ she continued.

George nodded and ran his hand through his hair. He was quiet whilst she pottered about making tea. She brought the teapot to the wooden table, sat down and poured them both a cup. She pushed a cup towards him and waited to see if he noticed anything strange about this simple interaction.

‘Thank you. This is perfect.’ He raised his eyebrow before looking at her curiously. ‘How did you know how I like my tea?’

‘I guessed,’ she said, smiling as she sipped hers. She had remembered how he liked his tea. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did. She followed an inner prompting and it had guided her correctly. He liked black tea with just a quick dip of the teabag.

‘Why do I feel like there’s an inside joke I’m missing?’

Cara smiled a sweet smile and said, ‘I can’t imagine.’

There was another silence, and George cleared his throat. ‘I’m glad I came. I didn’t know what to do. It’s not that I didn’t want to call. I wanted to see you. I’ve thought about little else, but, it’s difficult.’

‘I was upset you weren’t in touch, but I realised it must be hard for you.’

‘You said you’d ended it with Daniel. How did he take it?’

‘Not well. He was shocked and angry. No worse than you’d expect I suppose, given the way I sprung it on him, but it was horrible. I couldn’t keep up the pretence after. . .’ Cara’s words froze in her throat.

‘After?’

She took a deep breath. ‘After you and I were together. Pretending to be invested in the relationship when I’m thinking about you wouldn’t work for me. It felt wrong to lie.’

Cara looked away. If he was going to reject her, then let him get on with it.

‘Sometimes, I wish I could follow my heart more, instead of trying to please others.’

‘As in Joanna, you mean?’ She tilted her head to one side as she looked at him. There was no point holding back. They were either on or off. He either wanted her or he didn’t.

George reached across and covered her hand with his. He raised it to his lips and planted a row of kisses across her knuckles. Her hand tingled. Her whole body tingled. His hands were beautiful. She remembered how they touched her body in the villa in Seville.

Why do I feel safe with him when nothing about this situation is safe?

‘I can’t stay long, but I wanted to see your face. I’d better get back to work soon as there’s so much going on.’ He withdrew his hand and sipped his tea.

‘You’ve only just arrived. Can’t you stay a bit longer?’

‘Okay then, yes, a little while. Actually, I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me at all.’ His dark eyes met hers again. ‘I sat outside in the car for ages trying to decide whether to come in.’

‘How could you possibly think I wouldn’t want to see you after Seville?’

Their eyes locked in a silent loving exchange. There was no need for words.

Cara rose from her chair, heart pounding, and moved towards him. She was embarrassed by the depth of her longing, but she didn’t want to let the moment pass without showing him how she felt. Better to risk looking like a fool than to feel foolish later. He withdrew his legs from beneath the table as she moved towards him. She ran her hand through his hair, touched his cheekbone with her fingers and then traced his lips.

Anyone might wonder what she found so mesmerising about them; they were, after all, just shapely lips. But as anyone who’s been in love knows, other people’s preferences have little to do with attraction.

The familiar fire ignited between them. He pulled her down onto his knees, and she sat facing him as he held her. Their lips touched and the spark flared with the ferocity of a new flame. They needed no warm-up.

‘I’ve missed you terribly,’ he said, before devouring her lips with hungry kisses.

‘You said you haven’t got long so we’d better make the most it,’ she said, a coy expression on her face.

They both knew the inevitable was about to happen. Cara unbuttoned his shirt and rubbed her fingers across his lightly muscled chest, revelling in the pure delight of touching him. Her desire for him made it simple to please him. No effort was required. It was just right. She wanted him, and he wanted her. It was a basic, primal instinct, and both of them responded to it. There was no hesitation on either side.

He never wanted to be parted from her again. They weren’t naked yet, but they smouldered with a burning heat. He unbuttoned her flimsy silk shirt and let out a low whistle. He unhooked the lacy bra without ceremony and flung it across the chair.

‘Take me now; don’t wait any longer,’ she whispered.

He made love to her in a way neither of them had ever experienced. It was fierce yet tender; waves of passion overtook them, and they came undone. For a few moments, George forgot he was in a Tudor style kitchen on the outskirts of York, madly in love with a woman he’d only known for a few weeks.

For a short while, Cara forgot she was making love to her Twin Flame who would soon return home to his twenty-first-century wife.

Willow Manor, York, 1525

Cara wrapped her arm through George’s as they rambled around Willow Manor’s immaculate gardens. It was a warm spring day, and the comforting scent of apple and cherry blossom wafted up their nostrils as they entered the orchard. To see them you’d know immediately they were in love. They were lost in each other and had no interest in anyone else. The bounce to their step and the attentive tilt of George’s head as he looked into Cara’s sparkling eyes, would make it impossible for any onlooker to miss.

George’s mother watched them enchanting each other from her window in the upstairs parlour. ‘I’ve never seen a pair so enraptured. We’re fortunate Cara isn’t a terrible match for him, or we’d have a rebellion on our hands. Our boy is headstrong; he doesn’t like being reined in. My concern is that they both have such high expectations of marriage, they’re going to be sorely disappointed with the reality.’

‘That’s not a very complimentary observation to share with your husband of thirty years,’ said George Cavendish Senior, as he thumbed through estate papers. He was accustomed to his wife’s acerbic candour and had learned to manage her outbursts while maintaining his sense of humour.

‘Well, you know what I mean. It’s precisely because we’ve been married thirty years that I may say it,’ she replied, rolling her eyes.

‘Most nobles don’t marry for love, so surely we should rejoice in their fortunate coupling and wish them well, my dear.’

‘I don’t know. Romantic love of that nature gives me a queasy feeling in my gut. It’s not practical. He’d have been better to marry one of those solid, dependable Lovell girls,’ she grumbled, a sour expression on what was once a pretty face.

‘Possibly so, but it’s all too advanced now to stop it, so fret not my love. All will be well. George will be married. He will have his wedded bliss and soon enough, God willing, we’ll have another round of Cavendish children running about the orchard to keep their adoring parents out of mischief.’

George pulled Cara off the path and beneath an apple tree out of sight of the house. He was familiar with his mother’s overbearing ways.

‘Come here, so we’re out of sight of my mother’s lookout tower.’

‘What are you doing?’ laughed Cara, a look of playful disapproval on her face. ‘It’s entirely improper for us to be alone like this, my lord, you know.’ She lowered her eyes in false modesty.

‘Come here, you little vixen. You have bewitched me, and I can’t wait a second more for another kiss of your soft lips.’

‘We’ll be married soon, and then we’ll be able to kiss whenever we want,’ she said, her voice full of innocent wonder. ‘I can’t even imagine how incredible it will be to wake up with you every day and fall asleep by your side every night with no one to interfere and no chaperones frowning about our every move.’

They had met a little over a year ago, and they’d fallen in love that night. Cara’s parents had all but promised her to another man, but fortunately, the betrothal wasn’t yet formal. Cara was mature enough to know what she wanted but young enough to follow her heart and not listen to anyone else’s advice about who she should marry. Her parents were disappointed but were consoled by the allure of George’s lavish estate, plentiful lands, and title. They quickly readjusted their expectations, and the result was that Cara and George would be married this summer.

George planted kisses on the side of Cara’s neck, and she shivered and clung to him. They were never allowed to be alone for more than a few minutes so they had only shared stolen moments of passion. They were both impatient with longing and could barely keep their hands off one another. There was a magnetic attraction between them which had been apparent the first time George took her in his arms. Cara thanked God every day that she had met George in time to stop the impending nuptials with her first suitor. She had liked him well enough as an acquaintance but had felt no attraction to him whatsoever.

She gazed at George, and her heart danced at the prospect of the years ahead when they would build a life together.

They heard a whimpering noise from the direction of the bushes. ‘What’s that?’ said Cara.

‘It’s a dog!’ John, the estate manager, said his greyhound had given birth to puppies; one of them must be roaming about.’

‘Oh, I do love dogs. Do you think we might take a look?’ said Cara. She darted off before he could reply and a couple of seconds later he found her holding a greyhound pup in her arms. ‘This fellow with the long nose has won my heart almost as quickly as you did. May we keep him and take him up to the house? You could take care of him for now, and he can be our dog when we’re married.’

‘Well, he’s a hunting dog, my love. They’re usually kept in the stables, but you’re right, he is an adorable fellow indeed. Let’s play with him a while here and see if he manages to hold your interest.’

They turned back into the manicured gardens, and Cara held the puppy close to her chest, stroking his silky ears. He nestled in her arms, and his long pink tongue shot out of his mouth to lick her cheek.

George laughed at the startled expression on her face. ‘He has impeccable timing; I’ll give him that. He’s managed to kiss you even quicker than I did! If I’m going to have male competition for your affections, then I’d rather it be from a dog. I say he’s a keeper.’

‘He looks to be the most faithful creature. I declare he’s a talisman of our true love,’ said Cara, happy high notes chiming in her voice.

George loved to see her joyful. She was quite the most enthusiastic person he’d ever met; her joy was contagious.

‘What shall we name him?’ asked Cara. ‘We must name him and make him officially part of our family.’

‘How about Cornelius? He has wise, old eyes as though he’s been alive for centuries.’

‘I love it! He shall share the initials CC with me upon our wedding.’

‘That’s perfect, my love. Cornelius Cavendish, he shall be.’

They kissed again before emerging from the trees and turning towards the lodge in search of the estate manager so they could check he wouldn't mind them adopting Cornelius.

York, present day

George’s wife, Joanna, exited the penthouse of the luxury apartment building which overlooked the river. She reached the elevator, pressed the button and then turned to blow a kiss to the handsome man in the doorway.