CHAPTER FIFTEEN #2
They sat down and within twenty minutes they were both eating delicious steak and chips while Hal munched on fish fingers, his eyes drooping, half-closed with exhaustion.
Finally they made their way upstairs to find two tiny, cold attic rooms made up with clean frilly linen, net curtains and hot water bottles.
Hal was asleep before Sage had turned out his light.
She made her way through to the other bedroom to find Rafe sprawled out on the double bed, which took up most of the room.
He was reading the Racing Post, still wearing his coat.
He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s barely seven o’clock. Are you tired?’ he asked, noticing the shadows underneath her eyes.
‘No, not really,’ she answered, wringing her hands together. ‘I’m nervous. I’m excited.’
‘Why are you nervous?’ Rafe reached out for her.
‘Not about you.’ Sage took off her shoes and coat and succumbed to Rafe’s arms, curling up contentedly. ‘I’m nervous about seeing my father.’ She was also worried about Santiago but she did not want to talk or even think about him.
‘You’ll be fine, whatever happens. You will handle it with grace, just as you do everything. If it’s awkward, I can take Hal off and leave you to talk properly. If you want me to stay, I will stay. Whatever you need.’
‘What’s happening with your horses? The flat season is just about to start properly – aren’t you worried about being away from the yard?’ Sage had propped herself up on her elbows.
‘Hush! Lie back down. The season doesn’t start until later next month. The horses are fine. Now, let’s talk about something more interesting … Why are you feeling excited?’ Rafe pulled her back down and wrapped his arms around her.
Sage looked at him and could not tear her eyes from his.
She relaxed again and lay back, still watching him.
Her body was only too willing to surrender to Rafe’s gentle, exploring hands.
Although his skin was rough and calloused, his touch was tender.
He knew instinctively where she wanted him.
All of her nerve endings crackled with sensual energy as he stroked her trembling skin, unable to restrain his hands from travelling beneath her clothes.
He looked at her for permission as he reached the button of her jeans.
She hurriedly undid the button herself and then, sitting up, she took off her two jumpers and shirt.
‘Exactly how many layers are you wearing?’ Rafe asked.
His eyes were creased with amusement but his voice came out ragged.
He brushed his lips softly along her ribs, supporting his weight as he moved slowly down her body.
Her breath quickened, rising in and out in an uneven pulse as he mastered iron will to contain the longing that threatened to overwhelm him.
Sage manoeuvred him onto his back, silently, and started to undress him.
She slowly but methodically dropped his clothes onto the floor beside the bed.
His body was lean and muscular, she traced her hand over the definition in wonder.
Leaning down she put her lips on his skin, finding that she wanted to taste him.
She was consumed with longing for him. She wanted all of him.
She had never felt this primeval need for another person before.
The smell of his skin made her senses reel.
She breathed him in deeply as she kissed and stroked and sucked and then with some urgency she moved beneath him, putting her trembling arms around him and drawing him insistently down to her.
Rafe began to move very slowly, rocking backwards and forward.
His mouth found hers and his tongue caressed her, exploring her mouth deeply and hungrily.
He kissed her neck and her jaw, his breath warm and sweet on her face.
Sage clung on to him, helpless, awash with burning desire.
The pressure was building. It felt like teasingly sweet torture.
She arched her back, yielding to the intense pleasure, raking his back with her short nails, completely lost in the rolling waves that were rising inside her.
Unconsciously, she cried out wildly, shuddering with ecstasy.
Rafe finally surrendered control, bracing his hand against the whitewashed wall, and he joyfully plunged deeper into her, moaning softly with relief that he could now give himself over to the feel of her.
The raw intensity took them both by surprise, neither having felt it like this before, and once they had tasted it they were both insatiably hungry for more. They spent the long hours of the night entwined in a fervour of desire.
By the first pink light of dawn, Sage had drifted blissfully off to sleep, safe in the security she now felt wrapped in Rafe’s strong arms and the deep, inextricable intimacy that enveloped them both.
The sun began its trajectory across the sky at about eight o’clock; Helios rising cautiously into the firmament, his golden rays beaming through the gaps in the curtains, making particles of dust shimmer and dance against the shadows of the half-light.
Sage woke disorientated as she was not used to sleeping so deeply or so late, with sunshine in her eyes, to find Rafe was gone.
She sat up, suddenly on full alert. Leaping out of bed, she dashed across the small landing to Hal’s room.
His bed lay empty. Calm down. It’s all right, she scolded, willing herself not to panic.
There was no way Santiago could have found them here, was there?
She yanked the curtain back, her palms sweating, and felt relief instantly wash over her.
Rafe, Hal and Grouse were walking along the country road below, three abreast. Hal was swinging a brown paper bag in his small, chubby hand, and Rafe was carrying three paper travel cups.
Seeing Sage at the window, he called out, ‘Come down! We’ve got breakfast.’
They sat on a low stone wall looking out over Penrose Cove, devouring croissants and hot chocolate in an easy, companionable silence.
Sage rested her head on Rafe’s shoulder and watched as Hal, abandoning his half-eaten pastry to a slavering Grouse, climbed down off the wall and teetered across the uneven rocks to the pale sands.
The tide was far out and there were several natural rock pools into which Hal was already sticking his curious fingers.
Spring was starting to emerge; songbirds whistled merrily from the rustling hedgerows, the sunshine was warm on their faces and the sky reflected its clear blue in the transparent turquoise water.
‘Snail!’ Hal cried in glee, picking one out and examining it intently.
‘We are all set up to stay here for the day, if you want to go alone to find your father?’ Rafe offered, wanting to make Sage’s day as little of an ordeal as possible.
‘Will you come with me?’ Sage asked, embarrassed.
She did not want to look like a coward but she felt as though she had swallowed a hundred butterflies.
She imagined her father, furious at having his solitary existence invaded, ordering her to leave, and she was not sure if she could weather that particular storm on her own.
‘Anywhere,’ he said, meaning it.
They eventually found Penrose Park Farm after several wrong turns, by which time Sage was sweating despite the morning chill.
Her hands were damp and she felt as though she was having minor heart palpitations.
Hal had slipped out of his straps and both he and Grouse were lolling out of the half-open window, their mouths hanging open.
‘Hal, get back into your seat!’ Sage snapped, her tone uncustomarily sharp.
Hal, however, could not hear her and happily continued to catch flies with Grouse as Rafe drove down the tree-lined drive, trying his best to avoid the many potholes while taking exceptional care not to unduly jolt the car as he watched the two blissful faces in his wing mirror.
The drive eventually opened out before a well-proportioned grey stone farmhouse, which sat behind an ivy-covered walled garden.
A neat row of stables lay perpendicular to the end of the garden.
Dickie Beaumont was long-reining a beautiful bay mare in the stable yard.
The horse was well muscled but her delicate legs looked as though they were spun from silk.
Her thick black mane was blowing in the breeze and her brown coat shone like a conker.
Dickie was dressed in shorts and shirtsleeves, despite the cold; his feet were clad in wellingtons and a Russian fur hat was perched on his brown curls.
He steered the horse into one of the stables and when Sage, Rafe and Hal got out of the car – leaving a disgruntled Grouse sitting mournfully on the back seat – and made their way over to the yard, he appeared to look back out of the stable doorway, holding the lunge reins and bridle in his brown, calloused hands.
‘Hi, Dad,’ Sage croaked, her voice breaking under a deluge of emotions.