| |
They were silent during the short drive to the gatehouse. Painfully aware of Rory’s wide shoulders touching hers and that special smell of soap mingled with horse she had come to love, Dessie stared straight ahead into the dark, wet night. The swishing of windscreen wipers and the odd ping of raindrops against the windows were the only sounds. She glanced sideways at Rory. His jaw was clenched, and his hands gripped the steering wheel as if his life depended on it.
“Thank you for driving me home,” Dessie said in an effort to defuse the tension.
“You’re welcome.”
“Filthy night.”
“Horrible.”
“Thank you,” she said again. “For talking to Jules, I mean. She and I had a long talk. Not easy, but now we’re friends again. I’m really happy about that.”
He nodded. “Me too.”
They fell silent again as they passed through the entrance gates. Relieved the drive would soon be over, Dessie relaxed and put her hand on the door, ready to get out as fast as she could. But when the car stopped, she found she couldn’t move.
“We’re here,” Rory said, still gripping the wheel.
“I know.”
He groped for his door handle. “I’ll help you out.”
She put her hand on his arm. “No. It’s okay. I’ll manage.”
Her touch made him stiffen, and he turned to face her. “This is one hell of a situation.”
She snatched her hand back. “Yes.”
He looked deep into her eyes in the gloom. “What the hell are we going to do, Dessie? And don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.”
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, wringing her hands in her lap.
He touched her cheek. “I know this will sound strange, but...I’m falling in love with you.”
“What? How can you say that after such a short time?”
“It happened so fast, my head is still spinning. It feels scary in a way. But I do know I’m in love with you.”
She looked up at him, at his beautiful grey eyes so full of fear. She caught his hand and pressed her lips to it. “Me too,” she replied in a barely audible whisper. She meant to sit back, but before she knew what was happening, she was in his arms and he was kissing her so hard her mouth hurt. She opened her lips, and his tongue found its way inside while she pressed her body to his. He opened her jacket and slid his hands around her waist, finding her skin under her sweater. Dessie let herself savour the feeling of his warm hands for a moment before she tore away from him. “Oh God, Rory. We can’t. Jules...”
They looked at each other in mutual despair. Rory straightened up and hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. “Shit! I can’t stand this. I just can’t stand it,” he almost sobbed. “It feels just like all the other times, except this time it’s worse. I’m not allowed to love you because of another woman. Is that fair?”
“No,” Dessie sighed. “But we just can’t do this right now. It would hurt Jules and make her hate me all over again.”
“I know, I know. Jesus, this is terrible. But we have to fix it.”
“How?” Dessie exclaimed. “I think Jules is in love with you. And she thinks you feel the same about her.”
He sighed and took her hands. “Yes, I know. Maybe if I let her know she and I could never be more than friends, it would be a start?”
“I don’t know. Jules is no fool. She’ll find out the truth sooner or later.”
He nodded, his face grim. “I know. But you know what? I don’t care.” He increased the grip on her hands. “Dessie, I need you. I want us to get married and be together for the rest of our lives. I want you in my life, on the farm, in my house, and wherever else I am. I just want you to be there.”
Dessie stared at him. “On the farm? You mean give up my job and move back here?”
He looked confused. “Of course. What else would you do?”
She pulled her hands away. “Why should I be the one to move? Why don’t you sell the farm and move to London with me? Why is it always the woman who has to change her life to suit a man?”
He put his fingers on her mouth. “Please, shut up. You know that wouldn’t work. But let’s not argue about the details. We’ll work it out. You could live in London and commute here at weekends or whatever. I don’t really care as long as we’re together.”
Dessie closed her eyes and tried to pull herself together. She had never thought of giving up her job for someone she loved. How could he expect that? She should stand up for herself and tell him she wasn’t prepared to sacrifice all she’d worked for. But his fingers touching her mouth and his eyes looking into hers took her breath away and turned her brain into mush.
He leaned his forehead against hers. “We have to tell her. We have the right to be happy, to be together.”
Dessie sat up. Hot fire burned in her chest. “Yes, we bloody do! We haven’t done anything wrong—yet.”
Rory laughed. “I want to do everything wrong with you. I want to be mad, bad, and dangerous with you and tell them all to fuck off. But let’s take it slow and easy for now. Let’s keep this secret until the time is right.”
“I suppose we have to. I feel kind of dizzy right now. It’s like a sudden hurricane hit and turned my life upside down.” She smiled and ruffled his thick brown hair. “Hurricane Rory.”
“Let’s go away for the weekend.”
“Oh, yes,” Dessie sighed. “That would be heaven. But I only have Saturday and half of Sunday. We have to get this cataloguing done in time for the auction. There is so much stuff yet to get down on the lists. But Marcus is hunting on Saturday, so then we can sneak off somewhere. Not too far, though. Just one night away.”
He looked at her thoughtfully. “Okay. I’ll think of a nice place where we don’t risk bumping into someone from town.”
“Great.” Dessie opened her door. “Got to go. We can’t sit here all night. Don’t get out.” She put her hands in the air. “And don’t kiss me or touch me, or I’ll never get out of here.”
Rory smiled. “All right, I won’t. Sleep well, Dessie. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Dessie clambered out of the jeep. “Bye, sweetheart,” she whispered before she closed the door.
A car drove up behind them. “Must be Audrey and Marcus,” Rory said and started the engine. He waved, smiled, and drove off while Dessie ran into the house and softly closed the door. Better not disturb those two after a romantic evening.
But the ensuing shouting match in the hall sounded anything but romantic. Despite two closed doors, Dessie could hear them clearly.
“But I told you it wasn’t about the money,” Marcus shouted.
“When anyone says it isn’t about the money, IT’S ABOUT THE FUCKING MONEY,” Audrey yelled back. “And stop calling me a feminist, you chauvinist pig!”
“But that’s what you are.”
“It was men like you who started the whole feminist movement. There wouldn’t have to be any feminists if it weren’t for the way you treat us.”
“Oh please,” Marcus grunted. “Don’t make me responsible for what happened a hundred years ago.”
“Nothing has changed since then,” Audrey snapped. Her high heels clicked on the floor as she walked across the hall. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”
“Hang on a sec,” Marcus protested.
Dessie could hear his footsteps coming closer. Audrey murmured some kind of protest. Then Marcus said, “You’re so cute when you’re wound up.”
“Shut up,” Audrey said, but there was laughter in her voice.
“Okay,” Marcus replied.
Rustling and giggles. The stairs creaked as they made their way up to Marcus’ room. Mumbled words from Audrey. Then the door closed and there was silence for a long time, until the creaking of bedsprings made Dessie laugh as she undressed. At least someone got lucky tonight.
***
Murphy’s Country house B+B, Clonakilty. C U there Saturday. Will send directions. Rory x, the text message said on Dessie’s phone the following day. Feeling like the heroine in a spy movie, Dessie deleted the message as soon as she got it. Clonakilty. About two hours away. It would be fun to drive Finola’s amazing car on those roads in County Cork. Saturday was only two days off. So soon. Her stomach flipped as she thought of a night with Rory.
“A pair of bronze and gilt equestrian groups, on an oval black lacquered base,” Marcus voice said in her ear. “About fifteen hundred euros. What do you think?”
Dessie didn’t reply, her mind still on the night with Rory. What to wear? Sexy lingerie? Would that be too obvious?
“Hello?” Marcus tapped her on the shoulder. “What price will I note down? We’ll have to write down the measurements too, but I forgot my measuring tape. Did you bring one?”
Dessie blinked. “What? Oh, the bronzes.” She slowly came back to the present and forced herself to concentrate, staring at the pair of bronze figures. “These are Guillaume Cousteau, seventeenth century. Could be copies, but they look the real thing. Put at least two thousand as a starting price. I think they’re about twenty-four inches high, but we’ll have to measure.”
Marcus breathed out noisily. “Thank God you’re back from whatever daydream you were in. Very impressive. You have a memory like a steel trap. No wonder the pater is so impressed with you. I think he’ll make you director one day, you know.”
Dessie stared at him. “Director? Me? That would be incredible.” Her heart beat faster at the thought of it. Oh yes, it would be incredible. But what about Rory? What about his near proposal? Dessie suddenly realised she was facing an obstacle to her budding relationship far more formidable than Jules.
***
The Country House B+B just outside the picturesque town of Clonakilty was not as grand as the name suggested. It was a ramshackle pile of bricks that had definitely seen better days, possibly in the last century. The steps to the front door under a crumbling portico were cracked and broken, and the pillars were covered in moss and ivy. You could say a lot of things about this hotel, Dessie thought, but charming isn’t one of them.
“It looked great on the website,” Rory said after having kissed her on the cheek in the dark lobby. “But the room’s okay. In fact, it’s not too bad at all. En-suite and everything.”
“Fabulous,” Dessie said, relieved he had already checked them in. She took his hand. “I don’t care if it’s a tent. I’d sleep anywhere with you.” Feeling awkward, she blushed and busied herself with her overnight bag. What a thing to say. Why make it so obvious?
Rory smiled. “Yeah, me too,” he whispered in her ear. “Let’s go to the room. Except if you’re hungry?”
She handed him her bag. “It’s three in the afternoon. I had lunch on the way here.”
“We can have dinner in Clonakilty later.” He took her bag and pulled her up the winding staircase, half-running, the steps creaking loudly as they went. They came to a stop outside a door with a big brass handle. Rory took out a key and unlocked it, pulling Dessie into the room and banging the door shut behind them. “Here we are,” he said and dropped her bag on the floor.
Suddenly unable to meet his eyes, Dessie looked around the large room. A weak winter sun shone through the old sash window, where threadbare curtains fluttered in the chilly breeze. The wide oak floorboards were partly covered by a faded Indian carpet. The bed was a four-poster, made up with lace-edged sheets and feather pillows piled high against the headboard. There was a faint smell of lavender and beeswax polish. “It’s a nice room,” she said. “Really sweet.”
Rory nodded and closed the window. “Better than the lobby, in any case.”
“Much better. Excuse me for a moment.” Dessie threw her coat on the bed, opened the door to the bathroom and went inside. The old roll top bathtub and outdated sink had the same seedy charm as the room and were just as clean and fresh. She washed her hands and sprayed on some eau de cologne before stepping outside again. Rory hung Dessie’s coat in the old oak wardrobe and walked to meet her.
He took her hands. “This is a bit...you know, awkward. The other day, in the car, I would have thrown you in the back seat and made wild, passionate love to you. But here, with that bed...”
Dessie laughed, pulled him across the room, and pushed him onto the bed, throwing herself on top of him. “There. Now we’re on the bed. What you gonna do about it, big boy?”
He threw his arms around her and squeezed her so tight she couldn’t breathe. “Oh, Dessie,” he groaned into her hair. They rolled around, Dessie pinned underneath him, and their lips met. She closed her eyes as his tongue entered her mouth in a deep kiss that lasted until they were both breathless. Without speaking, they looked into each other’s eyes, while they struggled out of their clothes and crawled under the soft duvet.
“Linen sheets,” Dessie mumbled. “How posh.”
“Shut up and kiss me again,” Rory ordered.
And she did, while he discovered the delights of her body with his hands, followed by his mouth. Dessie marvelled at his light touch and expert mouth, his strong, firm body, his sweet expression, and his many ways of making her feel wanted and loved. The mattress quivered while they moved, the bedsprings squeaked, and their moans echoed across the room as they consummated their newfound love.
Afterwards, Dessie lay in a rosy glow, smiling into Rory’s tender eyes. “Sweetheart,” she mumbled and touched his face.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
“So are you.”
“I love you.”
Dessie sighed. “I love you too.”
“I’ll never let you go. If you take off, I’ll follow you. To the ends of the earth. Even to London.”
“That would be a huge sacrifice. I couldn’t ask you to do that. It would be like...like clipping your wings or cutting off your manhood.”
“But asking you to stay would be cutting off yours, I mean your...womanhood.”
Dessie giggled. “That’s sounds weird. But you know, women are different. Stronger. More adaptable. I’m sure we can find a solution. Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to give up the farm. That would be cruel. Unfair to even ask you to choose.”
His eyes softened. “Dessie, you’re...sublime.”
She pulled back. “No, I’m not. Please, darling, wonderful, perfect Rory, don’t put me on a pedestal. I’m a crazy, bad woman, and not the pure young girl you fancied all those years ago.”
“I don’t care.”
“You might if you knew the truth. I wasn’t a very good girl at college.”
“I don’t want to know what you did at college. I was a politician once, remember? I had a secret life in Dublin in those days, away from Cloughmichael and my mother. I wasn’t exactly the model of good behaviour either, but nobody knows about that part of my life—except the women. And who knows? One of them might step forward and point the finger one day. Scream sexual harassment or something. I was a love ’em and leave ’em kinda guy in those days. Not very nice, I suppose.”
Dessie stared at him. “I find that hard to believe. But I think I know why you acted like that. You were angry with your mother, and even yourself. But you ended up taking it out on those poor women.”
“Something like that. Except they weren’t poor. Nor did they suffer. Most of those relationships were conducted with a mutual understanding. The world of politics is dirty.”
“But sexy? I always thought power was very sexy.”
“Yes. But it’s all about the quick fuck, for the sake of gratification, or to get favours or position.”
“But fun, eh?” Dessie winked. “Please don’t be prissy and say it was hard and cruel.”
He turned on his back and laughed. “Yeah, it was fun. If you’re young and ambitious and get close to the action in politics, the sex and drinking give you a buzz that can hook you big time.”
“And when you lost your seat it was all over?”
He sighed. “In about three seconds.”
“Must have been tough. No more women throwing themselves at you.”
“That was a bit of a shock. But I got used to it.”
“Very brave of you.”
He pulled her hair. “When you’ve finished laughing at me, maybe we should get up and get out for a while?”
Dessie got out of bed. “I’m going to have a quick shower. Then maybe we could go and have a look at the town? I’ve never been to Clonakilty.”
“Great idea.”
“Finola lent me her amazing little car. Let’s take it for a spin.”
“Are you a good driver?”
Dessie smiled wickedly. “I’m a brilliant driver. But I like speed. Hang on to your hat, sweetheart, this ride could make your hair blow off.”
Rory laughed and jumped out of bed. “I have a feeling that goes for more than a ride in that car.”