Sweet Surrender (The Dysarts) (6 page)

‘Why have we stopped?' she demanded.

He undid his seatbelt, then reached over and undid hers. ‘Don't be naive,' he said, and kissed her.

Kate's immediate reaction was a sense of disbelief. This was Alasdair, she had to remind herself. This really
was happening. And, instead of pulling away, she decided she might as well savour the sensation as Alasdair's lips parted hers. If only out of curiosity. She made no protest even when he pulled her as close as it was possible to manage in the confines of the car, but when his mouth seduced hers with a sudden savagery unexpected heat shot through her, and she gasped as his hands pushed her jacket aside to caress her breasts through the thin sweater.

Despite the leap in her blood Kate's principal sensation was heady elation at the knowledge that Alasdair wanted her. Her, Kate, at last. To be here in his arms like this was something she'd dreamed of once, fantasised over. But in the past her dreams had only been of her own part in the process. It had never occurred to her that Alasdair's reaction would be so intense.

He tore his mouth away at last and thrust his hands in her hair, bringing it tumbling down in a black cascade over the white of her jacket as he stared at her in the darkness. ‘I must have been blind,' he said hoarsely.

Kate gazed up at him in silence he very plainly found unnerving.

‘Aren't you going to ask when?' he demanded.

She reached up to remove his hands so she could push her hair back behind her ears. ‘I know when. You mean in the old days at Trinity, when I was so madly in love with you.'

‘Were you, Kate?' he said caressingly, and kissed her again, but this time she pushed him away.

‘Of course I was. But that was a long time ago.'

He subsided behind the wheel and stared out into the darkness, the ragged rhythm of his breathing deeply satisfying to Kate.

‘So tell me the truth, Alasdair,' she said, breaking a
prolonged, hostile silence. ‘And no nonsense about impulses, please.'

‘What do you mean?' he said brusquely, turning towards her.

‘Why
did
you turn up in Foychurch last week?'

‘I told you. Adam had told me where you teach, so it seemed the most natural thing in the world to drive there and look you up.' He shrugged. ‘I was fool enough to want to surprise you.'

‘You certainly managed that. But why, Alasdair? It's years since there was any contact between us. It seems so odd to me that you actually drove to Foychurch, when a phone call would have done just as well.'

Kate sat patiently during another silence, waiting for Alasdair to speak. When he did his voice was tinged with the Edinburgh accent which only manifested itself in times of anger or stress.

‘All right,' he said at last. ‘I admit I was curious. You know I had lunch with Adam recently? Naturally enough, the conversation turned to you. I've always liked your brother—'

‘The feeling's mutual,' she assured him dryly.

‘Because of that Adam felt able to talk to me about something close to his heart. And afterwards it preyed on my mind.'

Kate stared at him. ‘What on earth did he say?'

Alasdair leaned closer. ‘He asked me if I knew what the hell had happened to cause the change in you when we were up at Trinity together.'

She turned away to stare through the windscreen at a watery moon breaking through the clouds. ‘And what did you tell him?'

‘That I had no idea. You suddenly shut yourself away from everyone, including me, saying you'd fallen behind
with your work.' Alasdair kept his eyes fixed on her profile. ‘But Adam said something went very wrong with your life before you came home that summer. He hoped I might have some clue as to what happened to make you so jumpy and withdrawn. Apparently it took a long holiday in Italy with Jess before you returned to anything like normal.' He sighed heavily. ‘Since talking to Adam, I keep wondering if I was to blame.'

‘You most definitely were not,' she said emphatically, and turned towards him. ‘I admit I had an outsize crush on you. But my heart wasn't broken, Alasdair. I managed to survive the rest of my time at Cambridge perfectly well without you—even achieved a reasonable degree,' she added with sarcasm.

‘I know your work wasn't affected,' he agreed. ‘And your degree was brilliant, not just reasonable. Which is why I can never understand—'

‘If you mention one word about my job again, Alasdair, I shall get out and walk home. Now.'

‘All right, all right!' He took her hand. ‘But Adam started much racking of brains on my part. I kept trying to figure out how I could have unknowingly done something to hurt you, Kate. So when he invited me to the christening I just had to see you first, to find out if I'd been responsible for—'

‘Oh, I see! You came to Foychurch to seek absolution for a sin you weren't even sure you'd committed.' She removed her hand to pat his. ‘Don't worry, Alasdair. You didn't ruin my life. In fact I like it very much just the way it is.'

‘If you say so,' he said, with such obvious doubt Kate was amused.

‘Not all of us are cut out for high-flying careers like yours, Alasdair Drummond. Jack Spencer, for instance,
is obviously perfectly comfortable with his job in the building trade. He doesn't have to be part of a global empire to feel he's doing something worthwhile. Nor,' she added significantly, ‘do I.'

‘So Adam's imagining things where you're concerned.' commented Alasdair, pointedly ignoring the reference to Jack Spencer.

‘Yes. But not so much these days, thank heavens, since he's been married to Gabriel. Now, can we change the subject, please?'

‘Whatever you say.' He put out a hand to touch hers. ‘Kate, it's been good just to be with you again tonight, but I want more of your time than this. How about taking the train to Pennington on Saturday to have lunch with me? Please,' he added deliberately.

Kate thought about it, quite gratified by Alasdair in the role of supplicant. And, because she had nothing planned for Saturday, decided there was no harm in seeing him again before she went back to her quiet life in Foychurch. ‘All right,' she said at last. ‘But no train. I'll drive.'

‘And what if it snows?' he demanded.

‘I can sleep on the couch in Dad's office. Or,' she added, giving him a cheeky little grin, ‘you can take me home to Gloucester and put me up in your spare room.'

Alasdair gave a crack of laughter. ‘You trust me enough for that?'

‘Of course. Otherwise,' she added, ‘the deal's off.'

‘In other words I'm to keep my hands to myself.' He sighed theatrically. ‘A tall order, Kate.'

‘Oh, for heaven's sake,' she said irritably. ‘If you're referring to what happened between us just now, that was just a kiss between old friends—' The rest of her sentence was smothered by a kiss which had so little to
do with friendship it silenced them both very effectively. It was a long time before Alasdair released her. And when he did it was with a reluctance which did more for Kate's ego than she cared to let him see.

‘I suppose now,' he said huskily, ‘you're going to change your mind about seeing me again.'

If she were sensible, yes. But knowing that Alasdair wanted her added an element of risk Kate was far too human not to enjoy. She pretended to think it over, then shrugged carelessly. ‘I haven't anything planned for Saturday, so I might as well come. But I'll have to get back early.'

 

Saturday dawned fine, with no sign of snow. Well aware that she had the blessing of the entire Dysart family behind her, Kate drove off to Pennington during the morning, knowing that even if the worst happened, and she were obliged to stay the night in Alasdair's house, none of them would worry in the slightest—Adam least of all. Kate grinned to herself as she sped along the A48. Little did they know that Alasdair was as prone to basic urges as the next man where she was concerned. It had done her morale no end of good to know that only the sheer physical difficulty of making love in his Maserati had prevented him from trying to take things a lot further during the episode in the layby. Which meant that he might expect more than that in more favourable circumstances.

It was not a thought that worried her. She liked Alasdair's lovemaking. Liked it all the more in some perverse way because it was easier to enjoy now that she was no longer crazy about him. But, astonishingly passionate though he'd been the other night, she was sure that the slightest hint of protest from her would have
been enough to call a halt, even if they'd been somewhere more private. Like his house in Gloucester. A prospect she rather fancied, if only out of curiosity to see where he lived.

Thoughts of Alasdair's home led her to wondering about Jack Spencer's. His house was in bad repair, by the sound of it, if it needed doing up. But in his line of business no doubt he'd bought it for a song, relying on his own skill to save him expensive labour costs.

When she got to Pennington Kate found Alasdair's unmistakable Maserati already in the auction house car park, and its owner in the office with Adam in a conversation which broke off abruptly at the sight of her, his eyes igniting with a heat Kate responded to with a friendly smile.

‘Morning, Alasdair,' she said cheerfully, and frowned at her brother's dark-circled eyes in sympathy. ‘Oh, dear. Bad night?'

Adam smiled wryly. ‘My turn for the two o'clock feed. The little demon took ages to get back to sleep afterwards.'

‘The joys of fatherhood,' she said with mock sympathy.

‘I'm not complaining—at least not much,' he said, and grinned at Alasdair. ‘You should try it.'

‘I hope to, one day,' Alasdair assured him, and turned to Kate. ‘On Adam's recommendation I booked lunch at a French restaurant down the road.'

‘Wonderful. School dinners will take some getting used to when I go back!' She smiled at Adam. ‘Why not join us?'

‘No, thanks. I'm saving myself for dinner tonight. Mother's looking after Hal, and I'm taking Gabriel out for the first time since the son and heir arrived. By the
way,' he added, ‘your friend called in this morning, Kate. I gave him a sneak preview of the furniture in next week's auction.'

‘Jack Spencer?' she said, surprised. ‘Did he see anything he fancied?'

‘Quite a bit,' Adam grinned at Alasdair. ‘I showed him some of your stuff, but no luck.'

Alasdair shrugged. ‘Depends on taste, I suppose.'

‘What kind of thing was he after?' asked Kate, amused by the idea of Jack Spencer turning up his nose at Alasdair's cast-offs.

‘He was very keen on a little mahogany side table, circa 1800—asked me to look out for pieces of the same period. He fancied a Cartier brooch, too.'

‘Time we were off, Kate,' said Alasdair abruptly, and held the door open for her. ‘See you, Adam.'

‘You were in a hurry,' commented Kate as they walked down the Parade towards the restaurant.

‘I was keen to get you to myself,' he informed her. ‘Full marks to Adam for his tact in refusing to come with us.'

‘You lunched with him at the Chesterton, which is more than I'm getting,' she pointed out. ‘Not, of course, that I object to your choice for today.'

‘Glad to hear it. Though we can eat at the Chesterton if you prefer.'

‘No way. Too expensive. I had coffee there the other day with Jack.'

‘Ah, yes. The builder with expensive tastes.'

Kate looked up at him in amusement. Alasdair was wearing a steel-grey moleskin suit the colour of his eyes, which were wintry as he strode along at a pace too fast for comfort for his companion.

‘Slow
down
, Alasdair,' she protested. ‘It's only just after midday.'

‘Sorry,' he said shortly, and matched his stride to hers.

She frowned. ‘Why were you getting steamed up about Jack's taste in furniture?'

‘Not furniture. Women. Or one woman, to be exact. Who is the Cartier brooch intended for, I wonder?' Alasdair stopped dead under one of the leafless trees in the middle of the broad pavement. He seized her hands, oblivious of passers-by. ‘Tell me the truth. Are you serious about this man, Kate?'

She stared at him angrily. ‘Not that it's any business of yours, Alasdair, but the answer's no. I'm not committed to anyone else, either. Now, for heaven's sake let me go. We're attracting attention.'

Alasdair kept one of her hands in his as they made for the restaurant. ‘So what's wrong with commitment?'

‘Nothing. For those who care for it.'

‘But you don't. Why?'

Kate eyed him with exasperation. ‘Let's change the subject or I won't enjoy my lunch.'

She didn't enjoy her lunch anyway, because the first person they saw, sitting alone at a table the waiter led them past, was Jack Spencer.

J
ACK
looked up from the newspaper he was reading and jumped to his feet, his pleasure immediate at the sight of her.

‘Why, hel
lo
, Kate. Adam didn't say you'd be here when he recommended this place.'

‘Hello yourself, Jack. Adam mentioned that you'd been in Dysart's this morning.' Kate smiled at him brightly, resolving to do her brother an injury the first opportunity she got. ‘Let me introduce you. Alasdair Drummond—Jack Spencer.'

Alasdair shook the other man's hand with such cold courtesy that, after a brief enquiry to Jack about the new baby, Kate said goodbye and accompanied Alasdair to the table he'd booked for the lunch she no longer wanted.

‘Does Adam get a commission on the number of customers he introduces here?' muttered Alasdair, holding her chair for her.

‘It's a subject I'll take up with him as soon as I get home,' promised Kate, amused when Alasdair seated her very deliberately with her back to Jack Spencer.

‘Does your friend live in Pennington?' he asked.

‘No.'

‘Where, then?'

‘I don't know, exactly. I haven't known him long. And, unlike you,' she said, scowling at him, ‘I don't subject my friends to inquisitions.'

Kate studied her menu in pointed, brooding silence, then asked for mineral water.

‘You should have come by train and enjoyed a glass of wine,' said Alasdair.

‘I don't drink wine,' she said shortly. ‘I'm not very hungry either, Alasdair. Could I just have soup, please?'

‘Anything you like,' he said promptly, the ice melting in his eyes. ‘What would you like to do after lunch?'

‘What do you suggest?'

‘I'll think of something while we eat,' he promised.

Halfway through their meal Alasdair told her to look round. ‘Your friend is leaving.'

Kate turned in her chair, smiled in answer to Jack's farewell wave, then returned to her soup with more enthusiasm.

‘You can relax now,' said Alasdair, and gave her a wry look. ‘Your friend was a lot more delighted at the sight of you than I would have been in the same circumstances.'

‘Because I was with you?' Kate shrugged. ‘He's just a friend, Alasdair.'

‘And is that how you refer to me?'

She smiled sweetly. ‘If you mean in conversation with Jack—or anyone else—I have to confess that I don't refer to you at all.'

Alasdair sighed in mock sorrow. ‘You certainly know how to deflate a man's ego, Kate.'

She laughed suddenly. ‘Sorry, Alasdair. Our farewell lunch hasn't been much of a success, has it?'

‘Farewell?' he said, frowning.

She nodded. ‘School starts on Monday. I'm driving back to Foychurch tomorrow.'

‘It's not on another planet,' he pointed out. ‘I've got a week or so to go yet before I actually take over at the
Healthshield plant. After the distances I travelled in the States, the journey to Foychurch for an evening is nothing.'

Kate eyed him narrowly. ‘What
is
all this, Alasdair? You've managed perfectly well without my company all these years. Why this sudden yen for it now?'

He was silent for a moment, then smiled wryly. ‘I could say I'm feeling low because my grandmother died, that I don't know anyone in Gloucester any more, that my friends are based in Edinburgh or the US. All of which is true enough.' His eyes held hers. ‘But even if I were surrounded by people clamouring for my company, now that I've caught up with you again I prefer to spend time with you, Kate. Is that so hard to believe?'

‘Of course it is,' she said impatiently.

‘Then I must find a way to convince you. So, if you've finished playing with that soup, let's have some coffee, and afterwards we'll go shopping.'

Kate's eyebrows rose. ‘Shopping?'

He smiled. ‘For food. Lunch was such a dismal failure I'm inviting you home to tea, Miss Dysart. Choose what you want to eat first, then we'll drive to my place in Gloucester and you can give me some advice on interior decoration. After which you can leave for home as early as you want. And if you're worried that I'll expect to take up where I left off in the car the other night, I promise, hand on heart, to restrain myself. So will you come?'

The plates had been removed and coffee provided before Kate answered him. ‘All right. As long as you don't take consent for anything other than curiosity to see your house,' she said bluntly.

‘You used to trust me once,' he reminded her.

She gave him a bleak little smile. ‘Sad to say, I harbour less illusions these days. Even about you.'

 

Certain that the Maserati would outstrip her modest little car, no matter how hard Alasdair tried to hold back, Kate asked for directions to his house before following him to the outskirts of Gloucester. Relieved that she hadn't been obliged to negotiate the town itself, she wasn't long behind Adam when she finally arrived in a cul-de-sac that brought her to End House, the name carved on stone gateposts. She turned through them into a short drive which led past herbaceous borders, and parked beside the Maserati on the neatly raked gravel which encircled the lawn in front of the house.

When Alasdair came to help her out Kate asked for time to look at the outside before going in.

‘The main part is late eighteenth century,' he told her, ‘but the double frontage is early Victorian. These huge bay windows would have been the latest fashion when they were added.'

Alasdair unlocked a wide oak door to reveal an inner white-painted door with stained glass panels. He opened it with a flourish, and switched on lights to reveal a long hallway with a beautiful wood floor and a staircase which curved up at the far end. Alasdair led her past tantalising glimpses of rooms through half-open doors, straight to a big kitchen with a stone-flagged floor and an original black-leaded range in perfect keeping with the pine dresser which took up one entire wall.

‘The range still works, but isn't in use any more,' he explained, switching on a kettle. ‘Hence the electric cooker alongside it.'

‘What a great kitchen!' said Kate, admiring an assortment of windsor chairs grouped round a large
scrubbed-top table. ‘You won't change anything in here, surely?'

‘Only the colour of the walls. Through that door there's a larder that houses my brand new dishwasher, laundry equipment and man-size fridge-freezer.' He grinned as he took a teapot and cups from the dresser. ‘I like my creature comforts.' While Kate examined her surroundings he made tea, put some pastries on a large plate, then with a mocking bow took a blue ceramic vase of daffodils from a window ledge and placed it in the centre of the table. ‘Can't let myself be outdone by your builder friend.'

Kate's eyes narrowed at the pejorative hint in his tone. ‘I wouldn't have put you down as a snob, Alasdair.'

To her astonishment he looked discomfited. ‘I'm not. I couldn't care less what the guy does for a living. My gripe comes from the fact that he's your “friend”.'

‘But not the only one,' she reminded him tartly. ‘I can also notch up an accountant and a teacher. Though Phil Dent is slightly up the scale from me in your eyes, I suppose, because he teaches at an expensive boys' school.'

Alasdair put down a milk jug with a force that spilt some of its contents on the table. ‘For the last time, Kate I do
not
look down on your profession. At any level. I'm sure that you, and all your colleagues, do a fantastic and vital job. But you know as well as I do that you hadn't the least intention of teaching when you were at Trinity. Have you forgotten that I was the one you confided in? All those dreams about being part of some record-breaking research programme—'

‘I was a starry-eyed kid,' said Kate dismissively, and poured tea.

‘So you were.' He smiled, and put a miniature coffee tart on her plate like a peace offering.

She eyed it absently for a moment, then looked up at him. ‘Shortly before you left to take on the big wide world, Alasdair, I experienced a kind of epiphany. I discovered I no longer cared tuppence that someone had beaten me to it about the discovery of DNA and so on. Dreamtime was over.' She shrugged. ‘Reality was as respectable a degree as possible, followed by a teacher-training course.'

‘Your degree was a hell of a sight more than respectable.'

She picked up the tart. ‘Can we please talk about something else?'

‘Paint,' he said promptly.

Kate chuckled. ‘Safe subject!'

‘What colour should I have in here? I'd thought maybe some kind of blue.'

She shook her head. ‘Too cold against this floor. You need something warm, like terracotta—even red.'

Alasdair eyed his kitchen walls for a moment, then nodded. ‘You're right. I'll show you some colour cards later. If you've finished your tea, do you fancy a tour?'

Kate jumped up with alacrity. ‘Lead on.'

Because Alasdair had dispensed with some of the house's contents she had expected a forlorn air to the rooms he showed her, but the small sitting room was cosy, with leather chairs and velvet cushions, and in the drawing room there were big sofas with plain cream covers. In the square bay window, with its view of the garden, there was a gilded bergere sofa that would have brought a gleam to Tom Dysart's eye.

Kate raised her eyebrows. ‘This is all a surprise, Alasdair—I thought you'd evicted the furniture?'

He shook his head. ‘Only the pieces I didn't like. And a fair amount of clutter. While my parents were here we went through the house together. As you see, I've kept a few pictures and pieces of silver and so on, but with my mother's approval out went a chaise covered with horsehair which pricked like blazes, and tables and cabinets and whatnots of every description. The dining room had a gigantic mahogany sideboard with a mirror which only stopped short of the ceiling, while upstairs you couldn't move for wardrobes and chests.'

‘But what will you use instead?' asked Kate, following him up the curving staircase.

‘I've kept this wardrobe for myself until I get some cupboards built.' Alasdair ushered her into what was obviously the master bedroom, where a large bed kept company with an equally large wardrobe. ‘Fortunately I was able to hang on to the bed, because my grandfather was built on the same scale as me.' He waved a hand at a door across the room. ‘I'll get a shower fitted in the dressing room in there, modernise the main bathroom, and add another to one of the other bedrooms while I'm at it. My forebears may have considered one bathroom sufficient for the entire household, but from a resale point of view that's not on.'

‘Are you doing the house up just to sell it, then?'

Alasdair shrugged. ‘I'll have to see how things work out.'

‘This is a lovely house,' Kate assured him, as he showed her the rest of it. ‘You wouldn't have much trouble in selling it.'

‘But it's a lot of house to live in alone. It's meant for a large family, which is something, oddly enough, that it's never achieved. My mother was an only child, which is how I came to inherit it.'

‘She didn't want to live here?'

He shook his head. ‘Neither of my parents has the least desire to leave Edinburgh. In the beginning my mother brought me down here in the school holidays, but when I was old enough I came on my own. I went fishing with my grandfather, helped my grandmother with the garden, and the nearest neighbours had a grandson I hobnobbed with very happily. I always felt at home here.'

‘I can understand why,' Kate assured him.

Alasdair took her by the hand and led her downstairs. ‘Enough nostalgia. Now you've had a quick survey, let's think about paint again.'

In the kitchen Kate asked for paper, and sat down at the table to sketch a room plan. ‘You've got to live here,' she reminded him, studying shade cards. ‘I tend to choose primary colours, but maybe you'd prefer something more muted.'

‘I like the gold walls in your little doll's house,' said Alasdair, sitting beside her.

‘Compact, not little! And the colour's Maize Glow in brochure-speak. I tend to go for sunny colours. My bedroom's done in something called Ripe Apricot.'

‘I'd like to see it,' he said, and smiled blandly. ‘Purely as research, of course, to help with my decorating.'

‘Not that you need pale colours here,' said Kate, ignoring him. ‘The windows let in so much light you can do anything you like in rooms this size.'

Eventually, after two or three choices had been pencilled in for each room, Alasdair told her that there was still a week to go before his official appointment to the new post.

‘I'll go in for an hour or two on a couple of days, to meet people and familiarise myself with the set-up. But
I start in earnest on Monday week.' He looked at his watch. ‘So what time do you want to start back for Stavely this evening, Kate?'

‘Pretty soon, I'm afraid.'

He frowned. ‘Do you have to?'

She thought about it. ‘I don't
have
to, I suppose.'

‘Then stay for dinner. I'll cook.'

Kate smiled. ‘An offer I can't refuse. I like it when men cook for me.'

‘Does it happen a lot then?' he said, amused.

‘Phil, the sports teacher, fancies himself as a chef, but Toby, the accountant, prefers to eat out.'

‘And Jack the builder? Is he a star in the kitchen, too?'

‘If he is he hasn't said so,' said Kate truthfully.

Alasdair gave her a searching look. ‘It seems to me that you must favour one of these “friends” more than the others?'

‘If I did,' she said tartly, ‘there would be
only
one.'

‘But if you had to choose between one of them, who would it be?'

‘Why do you want to know?'