Chapter Twenty-Two
Sam
Clara turned the car off the loch road and onto a narrow track that wound between tall trees, the afternoon sun flickering through branches as they bumped over an uneven section. Sam leaned back, looking at the view over the grounds at Glenvorneth.
A row of small, neat, and perfectly kept stone cottages came into view. Clara slowed in front of one with pale blue window frames and a tangle of flowers spilling from the garden wall.
‘Here we are,’ she said, pulling up and cutting the engine.
As soon as they were out of the car and she’d unlocked the door, a blur of fur bounded into view, tail wagging furiously.
‘Hey, Skye.’ Clara crouched to greet her, laughing as the little dog wriggled in delight.
Sam smiled. The warmth and love that filled the tiny hallway hit him square in the chest. He followed her inside, taking in the scent of coffee and cut flowers, the soft light catching on rustic wood and pale fabrics.
‘Shall we make some dinner?’ Clara asked.
‘Yeah, sure.’ Sam bent down to pet Skye, who’d come bounding up to him and was now on her back with her legs in the air. He chuckled as he rubbed her tummy.
‘How about a nice easy pasta dish?’
‘Sounds good to me.’ Sam straightened up, and Skye instantly jumped onto her feet and started pawing his ankle.
‘Let her out for a bit,’ Clara said. ‘Can you check the gate’s shut, please?’
Sam opened the door, walked down the path and made sure the latch was down on the gate. Skye had followed him out and was snuffling around the bushes. He hung around with her for a bit until she padded back to the door, then he went in too.
Clara was in the kitchen, pulling out pots and ingredients.
‘Let me help.’ Sam washed his hands and started cutting peppers, while Clara boiled the water.
The easy domesticity of it was relaxing – like food for the soul.
In another life, this could be a more permanent arrangement.
He and Clara could surely forge a future together.
But with the uncertainty surrounding Olive’s job, Sam couldn’t offer any kind of stability.
If Olive moved somewhere hundreds of miles from Glenbriar, perhaps into a city, he couldn’t expect Clara to follow – not when he didn’t relish the idea himself.
When the sauce was simmering gently, Sam turned back to Clara, watching her for a moment. ‘I need to thank you.’
She placed a block of cheese on the work surface. ‘For what?’
‘Everything.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘For listening to me, for letting me spend time with you. For being there for me. For… just being you, I guess.’
‘Aw.’ She cocked her head and gave him an almost sad smile. ‘It’s not a problem. I care about you.’
‘I know you do.’ His hands gripped the edge of the counter. ‘And I appreciate it.’
Clara crossed the space between them and wrapped her arms around him.
He returned her hug, pulling her close, remembering how small she felt curled into him like this, and it gave him a sense of power.
A deep need to protect her surged in him.
If he could just bottle this feeling, store it up for when he was far from her.
‘You’ve had such a tough time.’ She tilted her head and gazed into his eyes as though reading his mind.
‘Not really.’ He lowered his head so that the tip of his nose grazed her hair. ‘I’ve had it easy compared to some people.’
‘You’ve made tough choices and stuck by them to make sure your kids have the best life possible.’ Her hand slid up to his neck as his mouth dipped down to hers. A kiss ignited between them.
Her lips were soft and warm, and the way she pressed against him made his pulse race. His tongue found hers, and his hands snaked around the curve of her waist. She sighed into him, her fingers tangling in his hair.
The sound of the sauce bubbling over jolted them apart, and Clara laughed. ‘We’re burning dinner.’
‘Switch it off.’ The commanding nature of his voice surprised even him. Her eyes flashed as she obeyed.
‘Yes, sir.’ Clara flicked off the stove with a decisive click, her eyes never leaving his as she stepped back, a fiery glint in her gaze. She stretched out and gently closed the door with a soft thud. ‘Let’s make sure Skye stays in the living room for now.’
Sam cupped her face, thumb tracing her cheek before drawing her into another deep kiss. Clara melted against him, a soft moan escaping her lips as his tongue explored her mouth. She tasted of the berries from earlier, sweet and lush.
Their kisses grew more urgent. Sam’s fingers found the hem of Clara’s top, ghosting along the warm skin beneath. She shivered at his touch, breaking the kiss, and pulling back to tug the top over her head.
Sam let out a low breath, drinking in the sight of her. Clara grinned a little wickedly as she reached for the buttons of his shirt, fumbling slightly in her eagerness. Sam helped, shrugging off the shirt and pulling Clara flush against him. The skin-to-skin contact made him groan.
He leaned in and their lips met again, hungry and desperate. Sam’s hands roamed Clara’s back, unhooking her bra and sliding down the straps. She let it fall, pressing even closer. The hard planes of his chest against her pert breasts sent tingles of electricity through his body.
Clara’s hand brushed against him over the zip of his jeans. He drew a sharp intake of breath, as she palmed him firmly through the fabric.
He gasped. ‘Please.’ He wasn’t sure what he was asking for, but he wanted… needed something.
She met his gaze. ‘Yes?’ She gave him a squeeze that made his hips jolt.
That was all the encouragement he needed.
In one fluid motion, he lifted her onto the counter, stepping between her legs.
She wriggled out of her cropped trousers as their kisses grew more frantic, tracing the muscles of Sam’s abdomen, dipping teasingly below his waistband.
Sam groaned, his hips pressing forward instinctively.
He trailed kisses along her jaw, down her neck, savouring the soft sighs that escaped her lips.
The exercise he’d done for his own benefit to stay healthy was paying off now in other ways.
He was in pretty good shape, and she obviously wasn’t complaining.
‘Wait.’ Clara pulled back, breathless, hands still on Sam’s shoulders. He looked at her, confused, until she gave him a reassuring smile and slipped away to her bag. When she returned, holding up a small foil packet, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Sam reached for it, but she just grinned. ‘My pleasure,’ she teased, her touch sending a shiver down his spine.
Moments later, their laughter faded as heat and longing took over. Sam lifted her gently onto the sturdy oak table, nestling himself between her legs. They paused, foreheads pressed together, simply breathing each other in.
The world seemed to blur around them – just hands and lips in all the right places, whispered words, the rhythm of hearts pounding as one. All the tension, the anticipation, surged between them in a rush of sensation and emotion. This time it was quick, intense.
Clara clung to him, her breath quickening as he held her tight, thrusting deep as she squealed with delight. They moved fast, lost in each other, until pleasure and love collided – leaving them trembling, breathless, and wrapped around each other.
‘I’m wrecked,’ he whispered, trying to catch his breath. ‘What have you done to me?’
She chuckled into his shoulder. ‘I don’t know, but never have I ever done that on the kitchen table before.’
He let out a low laugh. ‘Me neither.’
Their bodies were slick with sweat, hearts still racing as they remained in a tight embrace. Clara’s fingers traced lazy patterns on his back, her legs still wrapped tight around him, while he held her, inhaling her intoxicating scent.
She sighed. ‘That was…’
‘Incredible,’ Sam finished, lifting his head to meet her gaze.
Clara smiled softly, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. ‘More than that; it was perfect.’
The abandoned pots on the stove had long since cooled.
Sam reluctantly pulled away, helping Clara off the table.
Her legs were still a bit wobbly, and he steadied her with a gentle hand on her waist. They shared a conspiratorial grin, like teenagers who had just got away with something naughty.
A car door banged outside, and Sam silently thanked god that the kitchen was at the back of the house as the blinds were wide open.
‘Just my neighbour.’ Clara winked at him. ‘She’s an artist who’s mad as a box of frogs, so even if she caught us doing anything, she wouldn’t care – though she might try to paint the scene.’
‘Oh, jeez. I’m not sure I want to think about that.’
‘We should probably clean up.’ Clara retrieved her discarded bra from the floor with a giggle, holding it up with a raised eyebrow. ‘I think we got a bit carried away.’
‘Great fun though,’ Sam said. ‘I might use the bathroom.’
‘It’s upstairs—’
The high-pitched ring of the doorbell pierced the air, and Skye erupted into a cacophony of barks. Sam and Clara froze, eyes wide with panic.
‘Shit!’ he hissed, frantically scanning the room for his jeans and shirt. ‘I need to hide in case that artist neighbour of yours is looking for a life model.’
Clara was already snatching up her t-shirt and pulling it over her head. ‘Where are my trousers?’
They scrambled to dress, bumping into each other in their haste. Sam hopped on one foot, trying to pull on his boxers while Clara shimmied into her trousers. The doorbell rang again.
‘Just a minute!’ Clara called out.
Sam nipped up the stairs to the loo and quickly tied off the condom and wrapped it in loo roll before shoving it deep into the bin.
He heard voices at the door but couldn’t make out what they were saying as he splashed cold water on his face, trying to calm his flushed cheeks. His pulse still throbbed in his ears as he smoothed down his rumpled shirt before opening the door and moving to the top of the stairs to listen.
‘Oh, I have a friend over,’ he heard Clara say.
Before he could move, a woman wearing a navy striped top and jeans looked up at him from the bottom of the stairs.
She didn’t look like a mad artist. In fact, she looked a bit like Clara, though perhaps a few years older, with slightly shorter brown hair.
Her curious gaze swept over Sam. A young girl with two long ponytails, no more than six, peered around her legs.
‘Ah… that’s him.’ Clara held out her hand, indicating up the stairs. ‘That’s Sam, and, Sam, this is my sister, Harriet, and my niece, Molly.’
Sam came down the stairs and offered his hand to Harriet. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you both.’
‘Likewise.’ Harriet’s eyes darted between Sam and Clara.
‘We’ve been visiting Dairvin Castle today with my in-laws.
They’re in the car, so I won’t hang around, but we have a bag of Skye’s toys.
She left them at ours when Clara was in Somerset, and I thought we’d hand them in as we were passing.
’ Her gaze sharpened. ‘Aren’t you the friend she went with? ’
‘Um… Yes.’
‘I see.’ She looked over at Clara, almost like she was about to laugh. Sam’s face grew warm.
Clara shot him a look that was equal parts embarrassment and amusement. ‘Do you want a coffee?’
‘No, we better not hang around. I wasn’t even sure if you’d be here. I was just going to leave the bag on the doorstep, but I saw your car.’
Skye bounded around, tail wagging furiously and Molly sank onto the floor to play with her.
Sam hovered by the stairs, acutely aware of Harriet’s expression. She was clearly trying to piece together the nature of his relationship with Clara.
‘Right, poppet.’ Harriet smiled at Molly. ‘I’m going to have to drag you away from Skye. Nanny and Papa are waiting in the car, so let’s go.’
‘You can come and see her another day,’ Clara said.
Sam kept smiling as Harriet chivvied Molly away from Skye.
‘Nice to meet you,’ Sam said.
‘And you.’ Harriet ran her fingers through her glossy brown bob, raised an eyebrow slightly, then turned to Clara and grinned with a know-it-all look.
When they were finally out of the house, Sam and Clara looked at each other and burst out laughing.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever been caught out like that in my life before.’ Clara covered her mouth. ‘You’re a bad influence on me.’
‘Me?’ Sam goggled at her. ‘I’ve never done anything like that before.’
‘Same. I was very vanilla until I met you.’
Sam could relate, and it would be hard to go back to that, not now that he’d sampled something much tastier.
Sam spent the second week of the Easter holidays with the boys, which meant no overnight stays for Clara, but she joined them for a day he wouldn’t forget.
They went to a trampoline park – where Sam discovered muscles he never knew he had – and later spent an afternoon at her cottage, walking the trails through the Glenvorneth woods with Skye bounding ahead.
The boys and the dog hit it off immediately, racing through the trees and returning breathless and laughing, faces flushed with spring air.
It had been years since Sam had had a dog of his own, not since the boys were little.
He’d forgotten how comforting it was to have that unconditional love and exuberant greeting waiting for you.
On the drive back, Sam took a small detour in Glenbriar to show his sons the high school as they kept reminding him they’d not seen it yet.
‘Looks like quite a nice school,’ Kaleb said, leaning forward from the back seat and peering through his fringe. ‘It’s a lot more modern than mine.’
‘Yeah,’ Sam agreed. It was a good place – a close-knit staff, friendly students, and a peaceful setting surrounded by hills. He’d settled in quickly, maybe too quickly. Because now, he had to prepare himself to leave it again.
Olive’s voice still echoed in his head from when he’d dropped the boys off last weekend. Her contract was ending soon, and she was already looking for work elsewhere.
Sam’s stomach twisted. He knew what would come next. Once Olive found a new post, he’d start job-hunting too – another move, another school, another house that never quite felt like home.
The thought of uprooting again made his chest tighten.
The boys needed stability – that much he knew.
But for the first time in years, the idea of leaving filled his insides with hot rushes of nausea and a constant dull ache in his chest. Because this time, leaving Glenbriar wouldn’t just mean another move. It would mean leaving Clara.