Chapter One #2
Ed leaps to his feet at the sound of the deep voice right behind him. He tilts his head back to look up at the powerful man looking over him. The newcomer’s handsome features bear a sardonic smirk as he seems to dismiss Ed. I doubt he even notices me at all. His attention is fixed on Caroline.
“Won’t you introduce me to your friends?” Ah, he has seen me after all.
Her smile is radiant tinged with perhaps a hint of relief that reinforcements have arrived.
“Yes, of course. These are our next-door neighbours, Ed and Faith. And this is Ewan, my, my…” She stumbles over what description to use.
I appreciate her predicament—boyfriend seems hardly sufficient.
In the end she settles for partner. I suppose that’ll do.
“Did you say you were leaving?” Ewan lifts one eyebrow, his gaze never leaving Ed.
I fully expect some mumbled excuse and to be bundled back in the direction of the bike, but I’m underestimating the power of petrol-driven testosterone. Ed is seized by a sudden rush of bravado. He turns as if to re-take his seat.
“No, I fancy a coffee. What about you, love?”
My attempt to answer is forestalled by Ewan. “If you’re intending to gate-crash, you’d better find your own seat. This one’s taken.” He sits down alongside Caroline, offers a polite nod in my direction, and lifts a hand to summon the waitress.
A few minutes later we are supplied with drinks and a selection of pretty little cakes. I have tea, so does Ewan, I note. Only Ed and Caroline seem to have any interest in the cakes. Most of the conversation is between them too.
“What model is your Yamaha?” Caroline asks, peering across the crowded village square in the direction of the car park.
“MT-09. Eight hundred and fifty cc, three-cylinder engine, a hundred and fifteen horsepower. Goes like shit off a shovel.”
The technical mumbo-jumbo is lost on me, but Caroline seems to know what he’s talking about. “What’s the acceleration like?”
Ed’s off. It doesn’t take much to engage him in an orgy of sexy bike talk, and soon he and Caroline are exchanging impassioned oohing and aahing over maximum torques, gear ratios, chassis design.
More tea is ordered, a refill of coffee.
I chance an occasional glance at the enigmatic Ewan.
He seems amused more than anything. I guess he knows well enough that Caroline is interested in motorbikes, and he seems ready to indulge her.
For my part, I stay pretty much silent. I have nothing to contribute to this conversation.
An hour passes; the café staff are clearing up and starting to move the chairs and tables back inside.
It’s starting to cool off as well, and not for the first time I wish I didn’t have a ninety-minute ride on the back of a bike to look forward to.
Even in snug leathers it’s a chilly affair.
Still, best to get it over, before the weather really does change for the worse. I can see some grey skies gathering.
“It’s time we were making tracks. Looks like rain.” I reach for my jacket.
“No, it’s fine. No rush.” Ed makes no attempt to move.
“Please. I really would prefer to get off. It was cold enough on the way up here, I don’t fancy getting soaked on the way back.”
“That’s part of biking, what makes it so fucking wonderful. Don’t you think so, Caro?”
Caro? Ewan’s eyebrows lift at this too. He says nothing though.
Caroline’s smile is broad. “Oh, yes, it’s all about connecting with the elements, just you and your machine.”
Easy for her to say. Her machine doubtless has a roof on. And a heater. I like my neighbour, I really do, but this fascination with biking is surely bordering on the ridiculous.
“I know, why don’t we swap?” Caroline is grinning at me, her face alight with anticipation.
“What? Swap what?” I frown from her to Ed, who is also doing his Cheshire cat impersonation.
“Yeah, Great idea. Faith, let Caro have your crash helmet and leathers.”
“My leathers? But I’m only wearing shorts underneath.”
“You’ll be decent enough. You can go back in the car with Ewan, and Caro can ride pillion with me. You’d like a demonstration of how that thing goes, wouldn’t you?”
Ed’s final remark is directed at Caroline, who is looking hopefully at Ewan.
“Will that be okay with you? I mean, if you don’t want me to…”
He smiles, perhaps the first smile I’ve seen from him all afternoon. “If it’ll help get it out of your system, sweetheart. And if Faith has no objections, obviously.”
Actually, I don’t. Ewan might intimidate me, although I can’t really say why—he’s hardly said a word directly to me, but the prospect of the journey back in his nice warm car is infinitely more appealing than being perched on the back of Ed’s Yamaha. I shrug and hand Caroline my jacket.
“Shall we go inside and I’ll peel off my leathers in the loo. The helmet is with the bike.”
We leave Hawes together, in a sort of convoy. Ed and Caroline are on the Yamaha in front, Ewan and I in his sporty Nissan. Despite his apparent lack of interest in the conversation at the café, it’s clear Ewan likes his engines too. He simply prefers them attached to four wheels.
We leave the small town behind and Caroline waves to us as Ed accelerates away.
Ewan seems to have no interest in keeping up with them, even though the Nissan can show a fair turn of speed too.
On those parts where the road straightens, we catch fleeting glimpses of the bike in front, further ahead each time.
Ewan makes no serious attempt to engage me in conversation apart from a perfunctory “Are you warm enough?” I mumble that I am and sink into the soft leather of my seat.
“Music?” Ewan gestures at the CD player.
I shake my head, hoping he’ll leave it at that.
He’s only giving me a lift, for heaven’s sake, but I’m acutely aware of his presence alongside me.
His voice is low, melodic almost, his fingers long and capable on the steering wheel.
My imagination is starting to hit overdrive as I envision what he might be able to do with those hands.
I pull myself up sharp—this is ridiculous. And quite wrong. Ed might behave like a randy tomcat, but I know better. No good comes of daydreaming about sexy doms, especially unattainable ones. Kinky sex is not my thing.
My mental state under some semblance of control, I turn my head to watch the landscape of the Yorkshire Dales roll past the window, noticing a few spots of rain against the glass. I was right about the weather.
The road opens out again, we’re on a long, straight section, and it’s a little wider too in this stretch.
The bike is visible, maybe a half mile or so ahead.
Ed is taking advantage of the lack of bends in the road to open the throttle right up.
The high-pitched roar of the engine reaches us even at this distance.
There’s a muffled “Shit! He’s a fucking maniac,” from alongside me.
I can’t help but agree and I’m glad I’m not the one on the back of the bike.
Maybe if I were, he’d not be showing off so much though.
There’s a surge of power under me as Ewan hits the accelerator and the Nissan leaps forward.
He’s trying to close the distance, maybe even get in front and if not, slow Ed down, at least retrieve his girlfriend from the danger zone.
The car eats up the long straight road and Ewan slows a little for the curve at the end.
The bike is in sight once more, approaching another bend.
Ed is leaning it over, almost parallel with the ground.
Ewan swears again, this time something truly obscene, and stamps hard on the accelerator.
The Yamaha reaches the bend, at the extreme of our line of sight.
I’m not sure what I see next, but it doesn’t look right.
The rear wheel lifts, then bounces back down.
The bike is disappearing around the bend in the road.
It looks to be sliding across the tarmac now, but not before we see a figure flung from it.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Ewan hits the brakes hard as we careen towards the bend too, the tyres screeching against the asphalt. I smell burning rubber as the powerful car slithers to a halt, sideways across the road. The bike is nowhere to be seen.
Ewan flings open the driver’s door and leaps out.
He runs full pelt across the road to the grassy verge at the edge.
I’m still in the car, dazed, wondering what the hell just happened.
Clumsy, my fingers numb, I fumble with the door handle and drag myself out.
I can see Ewan crouching in the longish grass at the roadside, leaning over something. Someone.
Oh, God. Oh, God, where’s Ed?
I stumble across the road to stand behind Ewan, desperately, selfishly hoping that the body in the hedgerow is not my husband. I can’t see the casualty properly, but I recognise my leathers and heave a sigh of relief, followed by a surge of guilt.
“How is she? Is she okay?”
Ewan doesn’t answer me; he’s too busy dragging his phone from his pocket. He hits the keys and within seconds is connected to the emergency services.
“Ambulance, please. RTA, motorcycle. One, possibly two casualties.” A pause, then, “No, no other vehicles involved.” Another pause. “B6255, about ten miles south of Hawes. Hurry. Please.”
He turns to me. “Where’s your husband?”
“I, I don’t know. I…”
“Stay with Carrie, I’ll go look around.” He skirts past me to jog along the road looking in both directions for some sign of the bike.
He halts, then scrambles off the road and disappears down a grass bank.
My impulse is to run after him, I need to see Ed, need to know he’s okay.
But a breathy whimper behind me reminds me of my immediate responsibilities and I turn to look properly at Caroline for the first time.