CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.
F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise
Rafe lay still, savouring the quiet, bucolic sounds of water and birdsong, and relishing the luxury of a lie-in. Sage’s brown hair was fanned out on her pillow beside him; she lay facing towards him, her full lips parted slightly, her features soft in sleep.
He was not in his childhood bedroom as that was where Hal was now happily sleeping, but in the smartest spare room that overlooked the back of Chipping Crockford House.
It was an impressive view that centred around a tall cedar tree and a large baroque fountain that gushed water endlessly onto ancient Portland stone.
The fountain was surrounded by lichened stone balustrades and steps that led out into acres of natural parkland which was home to some of England’s most ancient oaks, beeches and elms. A herd of white park cattle grazed peacefully among the trees.
A ray of determined February sunlight streamed through the gaps in the thick brocade curtains that covered the tall sash windows lining the outer wall while a blackbird sang sweetly from its lofty perch in the cedar tree that stood proud and sentinel.
Rafe leant forward and kissed Sage gently on the mouth and her bow lips curved upwards slightly; she didn’t wake, but she turned over and moved closer to Rafe’s warm body, naturally leaning in to him, nestling in his arms. There was a soft knock at the door and Rafe carefully extracted himself and padded over to open it.
It was a maid with a tray of coffee. He took it from her with a word of thanks and placed it quietly on the shining oak chest at the end of the bed.
Sage stirred and stretched as Rafe clattered the pot and Hal appeared in the doorway.
‘Morning, champ. Are you excited to go hunting, by any chance?’ Rafe laughed, scooping up the child.
Hal was already dressed in smart riding clothes, from his velvet hat down to his polished boots.
What he had not already owned, Constance had found packed away in the attic and he was now properly attired for a day’s hunting.
Rafe pulled off the child’s little brown boots and swung him up onto the bed. Hal grinned, bouncing up and down.
‘Can I go and see the new pony now?’
Rafe smiled and looked at the time on his telephone. ‘Hal, it’s only half past seven. Can we have breakfast first?’
Hal’s face crumpled with disappointment but he said bravely, his voice wobbling slightly, ‘Oh, OK, Rafe.’
Unable to resist, Rafe caved.
‘Fine, you little pickle – you win. Let me throw on some clothes and I’ll go with you, right now!’ Rafe tickled Hal, who kicked his legs and screamed for mercy while giggling uncontrollably. ‘Your mumma can then get dressed at a leisurely pace, in peace and quiet.’
‘Thank you, Rafe.’ Sage’s heart was filled with gratitude and love.
She had never felt so cherished before and she had to pinch herself that this beautiful man was also the most thoughtful and kind human that she had ever known.
The fact that Hal also adored him was too good to be true.
She stepped out of the high bed, her feet landing on the cream carpet.
The room was cold and she slipped into a thick white towelling robe that hung in the adjoining bathroom.
Pulling open the heavy curtains, she blinked, adjusting to the light.
Picking up her coffee cup, she mused on her change of circumstances.
The last few years had taken their toll emotionally.
Sage had got to the stage where getting through a day in Panama was an achievement in itself; she had essentially shut down, succumbing to a kind of protective hibernation.
Now she found herself waking up. Her senses were humming again.
She noticed the tiny golden particles of dust that shimmered and danced in the shafts of light now pouring through the windows, and quietly marvelled at the simple, raw beauty of nature.
There was so much more positive energy in her life now, from being around her family, watching Casper be silly with Hal, her reignited friendship with Dolly, the times when she was flying through the air on Skylark.
And Rafe, especially Rafe. Every touch from him awakened long-dormant urges and sensations that she had forgotten she even knew how to feel; every kiss sent blissful shivers racing around her bloodstream.
She could smell the fresh coffee in the pot and it made her hungry.
She had not felt real hunger for years – anxious unease always drowning it out.
Sage felt vital and alive once more and as she pulled on her woollen breeches and thick cotton checked hunting shirt she could feel herself smiling uncontrollably.
She was glad to leave her mobile switched off and forgotten in her bag.
Hal was with her; there was no need to be contactable.
After two cups of coffee, Sage padded down the wide, ornate staircase and followed the sound of voices and chinking of cutlery that came from the Garden Hall.
Rafe and Hal had been gone almost an hour and she hoped they would be having breakfast – she did not want to be stuck with Louis without Rafe as a chaperon.
Last night he had been particularly attentive …
Sage was convinced that it was only because he was trying to antagonize Rafe but Louis had kissed her on the mouth when she said good night to everyone.
She had brushed it off, literally, at the time but she did not feel completely easy around him. He was too handsome. Too cocky.
Sage cautiously put her head around the door and smiled happily at the sight of Rafe, Hal and Constance sitting together over boiled eggs.
‘Good morning, Sage!’ called Constance, whose loud voice belied her size. Today she was wearing olive shooting breeks with long, mustard-coloured socks and a polo neck under a brown Aran jersey.
‘Morning, Constance. Hello, you two,’ Sage said in relief, as she sat down next to Hal.
She found that her appetite had completely deserted her now that she had started to think about their day.
Nerves and excitement were starting to take over, racing around her body with the caffeine from her coffee.
Forcing down a mouthful of toast, she asked, ‘What’s the new pony like? ’
Constance beamed. ‘He’s very sweet. Hal has been up on him this morning. You won’t believe his name. It’s Liquorice. It could not be better. Goes with Custard wonderfully well.’
‘I’m not sure I’d fancy it,’ Rafe said blithely, wrinkling his straight nose.
Hal then piped up, ‘Mumma, Constant says I can have two ponies today – we can have second horses like the grown-ups!’
‘Only if your mumma says that is a good idea, young Master Hal. You left that snippet out, didn’t you, my boy?’ Constance said sternly.
Hal looked penitent.
‘Is the pony safe?’ Sage asked mildly.
‘Yes, dear. He comes with wonderful references and he is certainly unflappable in the stables here.’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind leading him, Constance?’ Sage said, nibbling another mouthful of toast; but giving up, she put it back on the plate. ‘I can very easily go on my feet today instead of riding.’
‘No, no. I’m looking forward to it, Sage. I’ve got a stack of Marmite sandwiches and –’ Constance mouthed behind Hal’s back – some sweets, if he’s allowed them?
Sage smiled and nodded her assent.
‘Well, thank you. You’re so kind. I must admit that I’m looking forward to riding Ajax again.’ A shiver of excitement ran through her as Rafe looked up and smiled.
‘Mum, I’m going to take Sage down to the stables quickly. There’s no need for Hal to come out again – he’s already had one change of clothes. Could you read the atlas with him or something? We’ll only be gone for ten minutes or so.’
‘Yes, darling, be as long as you like. We’re fine, aren’t we, my friend?’ Constance patted him on the shoulder.
‘Yes, Constant – we are fine!’ agreed Hal contentedly, climbing down from his chair and stumping over to the dog basket where the Labradors were sleeping, carrying the atlas.
Climbing in, he settled himself down peacefully between the good-natured dogs.
Constance went over and sat on the floor next to him, their heads bent together, placidly engrossed in South America.
Pulling on trainers and coats, Rafe and Sage left through the door of the boot room.
The cobbles were lightly covered in a soft sheen of frost where the stable yard was still in shadow.
The sun had yet to rise high enough in the sky to cast any strong, warm rays and their breath billowed out in clouds of white steam.
Sage rubbed her hands together trying to warm them up.
‘Will we be all right to go out today, in the frost?’ she asked.
‘Oh yes. This will have thawed in an hour or so – it’s not a ground frost. Don’t fret, we’re on!’ Rafe grabbed Sage as she slipped on the icy stones and let out a squeal.
‘Easy, these cobbles are lethal!’ he said with a laugh, and kept his arm around her as they walked under the shadow of the clock tower into the old stable block. Mr Underwood was standing in the tack room which led off the high vaulted hall where all the feed bins and buckets were stored.
Rafe nodded his head respectfully to the old man.
‘Morning, morning,’ he greeted Mr Underwood and held out his hand to him. Mr Underwood clasped Rafe’s hand, smiling at him. ‘You remember Sage.’
‘Oh yes, certainly,’ said the old man in his gentle Gloucestershire drawl. ‘Good to see you again, madam.’
‘Oh crumbs, “madam” makes me feel old. Hello again,’ Sage smiled shyly. ‘Is it all right if I go and see Ajax?’