CHAPTER TWELVE #4
‘Are you ready for another relationship so soon?’ Rafe asked frankly, finally getting to the point that he had been leading up to.
Sage thought for a moment.
‘“Honky Tonk Women”,’ she said, and then she laughed at his confused expression.
‘My favourite song is by the Rolling Stones. The second question is slightly harder to answer.’ She was quiet for a while, trying to analyse her true feelings.
She already felt vulnerable, opening herself up like this despite her sometimes overwhelming impulses to barricade herself against any potential threat.
Rafe did not hurry her. They sped along in silence until Sage spoke again.
‘In truth, I’m probably not quite ready – I didn’t think I would ever want another relationship, after Santiago.
I had been so stifled, living in torment really, and only now do I feel as though I’m coming back to life.
My freedom is something I will never again take for granted.
But I do want to spend time with you. In fact, I’m craving it.
I’m feeling things I never imagined possible.
I don’t want to get things wrong though.
’ Neither of them said anything for a moment, the air heavy with words unspoken.
‘Am I making any sense?’ She looked at him, willing him to understand.
‘You’re making total sense. I think we need to take things very slowly, from the beginning.
I’m going to drop you home now, Sage, so you can get back to Hal.
I shall go to the yard, sort out the horses for the evening, then I’ll come and pick you up again later, once Hal is in bed, take you out to dinner?
’ Rafe grinned at her, excited at the prospect of more time together.
‘Let’s keep it very simple and either of us can back out at any time we choose? No strings?’
‘Sounds perfect, Rafe.’ Sage was inordinately grateful that he listened with no judgement; that he saw her, and that she was enough.
They pulled up outside North Place to find that all the lights were blazing and there was a visitor’s car parked at the front of the house.
Figures could be seen at the drawing-room window.
Rafe leapt out of the car, letting in a howling blast of cold air, and ran around to open the passenger door for Sage.
She stepped out and Rafe held her face in his hands for a moment, before dropping a kiss onto her parted lips.
He pulled away and then leant in again, as though unable to tear himself away, kissing her lips and then her forehead.
Sage felt herself thaw in his arms as he held her against his body and wanted to stay close to him, but she could feel eyes on her from the house.
Reluctantly pulling away, she stroked his cheek.
‘Tonight,’ she promised and turned to trip lightly up the stone steps towards the front door. She turned at the top, in some sort of quandary, deliberating, biting her lip; then she decided to say it. Even though she felt foolish. ‘I don’t want you to go!’ It felt painful, his leaving.
He laughed. ‘I’ve got to go. I need to tell my horses all about you!’ Then he folded himself back into the car.
With a half-wave, she smiled, slightly giddy, and turned to let herself into the house.
She tugged off her boots as quietly as she could and put them neatly next to the old grandfather clock in the hall.
Looking up at its brass face, she saw that it was a quarter to seven: Hal would be having supper in the kitchen.
She padded down the hall to sneak past the drawing room.
A cloying, familiar scent of aftershave hung heavily in the warm air and she flitted past the open door in a panic, not knowing why, rushing along the passageway to the welcoming lights of the kitchen.
‘Mumma!’ Hal was overjoyed to see his mother and climbed down from the kitchen island where he had been eating eggs and soldiers with Maggie.
Weaving against her legs, along with Beetle the whippet, he raised his arms to be picked up.
Sage lifted him automatically into her arms, holding him close to her.
She sat down, still clinging to the child.
‘Is everything all right, Maggie?’ Sage asked, seeing worry on Maggie’s normally merry face.
‘I tried to call to warn you, Miss Sage.’ Maggie’s accent was stronger when she was upset. ‘Your phone was going straight through to voicemail.’ She wrung a tea towel over and over again in her hands, looking at Sage beseechingly.
‘To warn me of what, Maggie? Hal is OK. Are you all right? What’s wrong?’ Sage got up, shifting Hal onto her narrow hip to hold on with one arm, leaving the other free to put around Maggie’s shoulders.
Hal clung onto Sage’s neck like a monkey.
‘Papa is here,’ he said gleefully. ‘Gammy called him a rude word.’
Sage looked at Maggie’s trembling mouth in horror.
‘Santiago is here? Right now?’ Sage asked, the strength leaving her legs so that she had to hastily sit down again. Maggie nodded apologetically. ‘Oh shit.’ Then remembering the faces at the drawing-room window, she repeated herself, exhaling in dread. ‘Shit.’