Red Skye at Night (8 page)

I wash and condition my hair then reach for a towel from the stack. I dig my toothbrush from my bag and clean my teeth before padding back through the bedroom and clambering onto the bed. The television is mounted on the wall opposite and I decide to try it out. I channel hop for a few minutes, find nothing I feel like watching so I turn it off again. In the silence of my own room I can hear the low hum of Harry’s television next door. I wonder what he’s watching, and whether he might like company. I stifle that notion. I’d look ridiculous insisting on separate rooms, then sidling round to his at the first opportunity. No, it’s an early night for me.

I start to rifle through my bag for something to sleep in, only to realize I didn’t pack anything. I was in such a rush to throw my stuff together this morning I never thought about sleepwear, not that my collection is extensive. I usually make do with leggings and an old T-shirt, but for the duration of this trip it looks like I’ll be sleeping in the nude.

* * * *

I wake up to bright sunlight streaming through the window. I forgot to close the curtains last night, and now the glorious Scottish morning is asserting itself. Given my lack of sleeping attire it’s just as well I’m on the fourth floor and there are no other buildings for at least two miles. I sit up feeling more refreshed than I have in as long as I can remember. I was tucked up in bed by just after ten but fell asleep straight away and slept like a top. I turn on the television again, this time to find out what time it is.

Seven-twenty-three. The porter said breakfast was from seven so I could go down and find something to eat. Harry didn’t stipulate what time we’re to be away this morning, but if he wants to visit the pandas and the castle, we need to make a start. I wonder if he’s up yet. I turn the volume of the television down low and listen for sounds from next door. Nothing. I could get dressed and go and knock, I suppose. I decide that seems a reasonable plan and start to investigate my modest collection of clothes.

Since Harry outlawed my sweatshirts, I’m short on options. Two vests, a spare pair of jeans and a denim waistcoat. I feel a shopping trip coming on. At least now I have funds to buy some new clothes, though I’d intended a more pragmatic investment strategy for my new-found wealth. I wonder if we’ll have time to hit the shops in Edinburgh too.

I decide on a plain black vest and gray jeans. I only have one pair of shoes with me, my faithful trainers, so I slip those back on and head out into the hallway, remembering to pocket the key card as I go. I knock on Harry’s door and listen carefully. There is no sound from inside, no footsteps padding across, no call for me to come in. I try the door, but already know it will be locked. It is. He’s either still asleep, though I somehow consider that unlikely, or he’s already gone down.
He might have waited for me.

I make my way back down to reception and follow signs for the dining room. I’m greeted by a head waiter in a smart suit, a white tea towel draped across his arm. He greets me politely and asks for my room number. I pull out my key card, only to find that the room number isn’t on it.
Shit! Why didn’t I check?
I might not even be able to find the right room to get back in.

“Oh, sorry, I don’t remember…”

Harry’s voice behind me saves my bacon. “Hi, honey, sleep well?”

I turn. He looks splendid as always, this morning dressed in comfortable slacks and a sports shirt. His hair is wet and freshly combed. He has a small rucksack looped over one shoulder.

“Yes, like a baby. I knocked for you…” I try not to let a peevish note creep in, but can’t be certain.

“I got up early and hit the gym.” He gestures to his bag, where his kit is obviously stowed.

Yet another wardrobe malfunction of mine. Mentally I add to my shopping list. I may not be the athlete I once was, but I do enjoy a workout when I get the chance. I’ll need the gear and perhaps a swimsuit too.

“I worked up an appetite. Are you just going in?” Harry nods to the head waiter who is poised with his clipboard.

“Yes. I forgot my room number, though.”

“Four-seventeen. I’m four-nineteen.” Harry beams at the head waiter.

He ticks us off his list and gestures across his domain. “Please, sit anywhere. We have plenty of space this morning.”

Our breakfast is delicious. Even without the haggis—that Scottish delicacy that neither of us seems minded to try—I eat far too much. Yes, I will definitely need the gym clothes.

Harry has consulted the hotel reception who advise going into the city center on the hotel minibus, as parking in Edinburgh is so difficult. Apparently we can get a bus from Waverley Station in the city center right to the zoo. I feel uncomfortable about this and say so.

“You paid me to drive you. You paid me a fortune to be your own private driver, and now you’re talking about using buses.”

“You do drive me, and you do it beautifully. But even the best chauffeurs can take a day off. Today’s your day off.”

“But…”

“Stop fretting, Hope. Just let yourself enjoy.”

I can’t find a suitable retort to that so ask him to pass the marmalade instead.

* * * *

The hotel minibus drops us right at the gates to Edinburgh Castle as they open the doors. We pick up our pre-booked tickets and we’re in. We abandon the guidebook, preferring to just wander around. The view over the city from the castle walls is breathtaking, though Harry seems particularly interested in the dungeon. He takes my hand to help me down some steep stone steps and just sort of holds on. By lunchtime my feet are aching and we’re ready to move on to the zoo.

The pandas are quite enchanting. Well, panda. There’s only one on show, lumbering around the huge glass-fronted enclosure oblivious to the hordes of curious visitors who surround the place every day, noses pressed up against the windows. It occurs to me that the pandas probably think we are the exhibits rather than they.

I love being a tourist, just out for the day and having a good time. But I’m also loving Harry’s company. He’s funny, and interesting, and very attentive. We spend most of the day with our fingers interlocked. I can’t recall ever holding anyone’s hand before, except my mother’s when I was small.

By mid-afternoon we’re leaning on the wall surrounding the penguin enclosure, watching the little creatures waddling around like gossipy old women.

“Time to be moving on.” Harry loops an arm across my shoulders.

I stiffen, but decide it’s okay. Better than okay. He waits a few moments before pulling me in a little closer, then leans over to drop a light kiss on the top of my head.

“Thanks for doing this. I’ve had a good time today. I’m glad you agreed to come with me.” He nuzzles my hair. I find that’s okay too.

“What, to the zoo? Or to Scotland?” I tilt my face up to him and wonder if he might be contemplating kissing me. Surely not…

“Both. All of it. I’d have come to Scotland anyway, but it wouldn’t have been so much fun.”

I can’t recall anyone ever telling me I’m good fun either. Harry certainly brings out my finer qualities. Which brings me to my current self-inflicted dilemma. I’d very much like to reopen the question of our sleeping arrangements.

“Did I hear you tell your secretary we’d be staying in Perth tonight?”

“Yeah, I thought that would be about right. Just an hour’s driving or so.”

I nod. “Has she booked us into another hotel then?”

“Yes. She emailed me the details. This one’s a converted manor house. No golf or ponies but they do have ospreys, apparently.”

“Ah, right. Ospreys.”

“Fine creatures. Will you share my room tonight, Hope?”

My mind was traversing pretty much the same ground, but even so, Harry’s blunt question comes as a surprise. I stare up at him, turning over in my head all the reasons why agreeing to share a hotel room with a man I hardly know is a bad idea. Sadly the best I can come up with is a whispered, “Yes, please.”

He smiles and dips his head, brushes his lips across mine. His palms are framing my face, holding my head still as he trails light, almost-kisses across my forehead, my eyes, my nose and finally arrives back at my mouth. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding between my parted lips. I suck on it and lace my fingers together at the back of his neck, wondering why I took so long to let it get to this. I should have jumped him the first moment he got into my taxi at the airport. Still, I determine to make up for lost time.

Harry breaks the kiss to bury his face in my neck. “Christ, Hope, you’re so gorgeous. How quickly can you get us to Perth?” It seems he has the same idea.

“My car’s at the hotel. We need to get the bus back into the city center, and…”

“Fuck that. We’ll take a cab.”

Chapter Five

It takes a little over two hours to reach the elegant country house hotel in Scone, just outside Perth. I cover most of the journey with my knickers moistening disgracefully. Harry doesn’t help by continually observing that I could perhaps put my foot down a little. However much we might both wish it were otherwise, I do still have British speed limits and the Edinburgh rush hour to contend with.

The hotel is every bit as lovely as described and there is indeed a hide for observing ospreys, but we can drum up little interest in birds of prey. Harry drags our bags from the boot again, muttering about sharing cases from here on. It’ll be easier. He checks us in at the front desk, orders breakfast in bed for eight o’clock the following morning, politely takes both room keys, then we head for the stairs.

Harry opens up the first of our allotted rooms and peers inside.

“How do you like this one?”

I lean around him, survey the pleasant décor, the chintzy yellow and pale blue bedspread, the bright and cheerful white furniture. It’s a very feminine room, even down to the lace-edged trim on the curtains.

“It’s okay.”

“Yeah. Let’s check out the other.”

Our other room is not adjoining. It’s a little farther along the landing on the opposite side. Harry unlocks the door and we both poke our heads inside.

“Shit, yes!” Harry’s delighted exclamation is in response to the massive four-poster bed dominating the room.

“You like this one better?” I step inside, turning through three hundred and sixty degrees to take in the oak furnishings and deep red carpet. This room is definitely not feminine.

“Hell, don’t you?”

“Well, the other had prettier curtains…” I can’t help teasing him, just a little.

“Hope…” His voice has taken on a distinct warning tone. I find it oddly disturbing. And powerfully exciting. My knickers are becoming wet again.

Again? They never dried out.

“Well, I suppose it’ll do. If you like it. We’ll use this one then.” I turn to him, offering my sweetest smile.

He glares at me under lowered eyebrows. “How accommodating you are. I do like that in a woman. I suppose it’s a little too early in our relationship for me to insist that you strip and kneel at my feet…?”

“Do you like that in a woman too?” I’m not sure where that question came from, but it sort of pops out.

“Oh yes.” His face has lost its previous teasing expression, and this conversation is not banter anymore. It’s not even the playful prelude to first sex. This is—heavy. And heady. And it’s utterly terrifying.

“What then, after I’ve knelt?”
Am I really going to do that?

“Then, honey, if you’ll let me, I’ll tie you to this rather splendid bed and show you a seriously good time.”

“Will you hurt me?” I’m thinking probably not. Perhaps not. But even so…

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Why do you need to tie me to the bed? I’ve said I want to be here, with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“If you don’t want me to tie you up, I won’t. I won’t do anything you’re not happy about.” He steps forward and takes my face between his hands to look down into my eyes. “Be excited, Hope. Be aroused, and maybe a little bit nervous. But don’t be frightened. I intend to make you purr, not scream.”

He holds my gaze, waiting for my response. I watch as his pupils dilate, his own arousal unmistakable. My pussy clenches. This is it. Now. This beautiful, exciting, sexy man wants me. He wants me naked at his feet—and tied to his bed. Holy fuck.

“Shall I undress now?” I whisper my reply.

He smiles. “Yes, please.”

I allow myself no time for further reflection. It would only confuse me, and right now this seems simple. I pull my vest top over my head and drop it on the carpet. I unfasten my jeans, then hesitate. My right leg still carries the scars of my accident and the subsequent surgery despite the skills of the orthopedic team at Leeds General Infirmary. The scarring could have been worse and I’m not normally self-conscious about it, or so I like to tell myself. In reality I seldom venture anywhere in anything other than jeans or leggings. This evening, though, I have no choice. He said naked and that means the jeans come off. I quash my reservations, slide them down my legs, then step out.

That was the hardest part for me. My bra and knickers are soon discarded. I turn to face Harry and sink to my knees.

Instinctively I look at the floor, studying the swirling thistle-like pattern in the thick carpet. Harry steps forward, his feet now in my line of view. He stands, silent. I feel his scrutiny, his wordless appraisal like a soft caress. My mouth is dry. He moves, walks around me, perusing me from all angles. He crouches next to me, on my right, and trails the backs of his fingers up my thigh. He caresses the most prominent of my scars, and I wait for his comment. He won’t be unkind, I know that, but neither do I want his sympathy. I just wish my skin were smooth, unblemished like everyone else’s.

He turns his hand to rest his palm on my disfigured thigh, his touch warm as he reaches for my cheek with his other hand. He turns my face to his and kisses me. No words are required. His acceptance and appreciation are there in the light brush of his lips over mine. I open my mouth, and he enters, his tongue teasing, tangling. My body reacts instantly, the electric current of white-hot desire shooting straight to my clit, to my pussy. I clench and moisten as he angles his head to deepen the kiss, lifting my hands to clutch at his shoulders.