Third Time Lucky (22 page)

‘It’ll still be an amazing night. So why don’t I take you out for lunch at the Boathouse now?’

She smiles. ‘That sounds great, but I’ll treat you. The thing is …’ – she hesitates – ‘we don’t have much time left do we? Promise you will keep in touch after you leave?’

‘Promise you’ll make Washington your first stop on your world tour? You’ll be welcome any time and I’ll be back to Europe at some point.’

‘Alexander will make sure of that. Have you told him about the job interview yet?’

I shake my head. ‘I’m waiting till after the ball.’

Immy gives me a hard look. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’

‘I don’t think there will ever be a good time. Come on, let’s go out.’

We’re heading into town when we see Scott cycling past the Bodleian. He brakes hard when he sees us and nearly falls off on to the cobbles outside the Radcliffe Camera.

‘Whoa!’

‘Sorry we startled you.’

‘We
have that effect on people,’ Immy says, seeming transfixed by his cycling shorts.

‘We were just off to lunch at the Boathouse. Want to join us?’

‘Like this? I’m all sweaty.’

‘How awful,’ says Immy. ‘But we could just sit outside the pub instead. You look like you could do with a nice cool beer.’

‘In that case, if you don’t mind sitting next to a hobo, it’s a deal.’

‘I can stand it, if you can,’ says Immy.

Scott chains up his bike, and we grab drinks and menus and sit in the sun in the garden of the Turf. Talk turns to what we’ve all been doing after the exams.

It doesn’t take long for poor Immy to start feeling sorry for herself again about the ball and the wasted ticket. ‘Oh well, I guess I can get rid of the ticket easily enough at Wyckham, unless you know anyone from St Nick’s who wants it,’ she says, bravely.

Scott sips his pint before replying. ‘Hmm. Tricky, but I might possible know someone …’

Immy brightens. ‘Really?’ Then she pulls a face. ‘Is he even vaguely human?’

‘Vaguely,’ says Scott. ‘You’re looking at him.’

Immy’s mouth literally drops open. ‘
You?
’

Scott has a hang-dog expression. ‘Yes. Although by the look on your face, maybe it’s not such a good idea!’

‘No, God, no,’ Immy says. ‘But … well, sure, if you
fancy it. I thought you might already be going with Lia?’ she says coyly.

‘Lia’s gone to Papua New Guinea.’ Scott says this casually enough but that means nothing. In his own way, he’s as good at hiding his feelings as Alexander. Better, in fact. It occurs to me that I think I know him but maybe I’ve been mistaken.

‘She’s been planning the trip for a while, and we both knew it was only a fling so we called it a day. Different continents; pretty difficult to keep a relationship going.’

He tosses this comment into the conversation lightly enough, so I can’t work out whether he’s referring to Alexander and me as well as his own situation.

Studiously avoiding looking at me, he pulls out his wallet. ‘So, if you can stand to spend the whole evening with me, how much are the tickets?’

‘Oh, forget that – but are you really serious?’ Immy says.

‘Deadly. If you’ll allow me to escort you.’

She sighs thoughtfully. ‘Well, I suppose I could lower myself to be seen with a St Nick’s person. It would be a humiliation, of course, but …’

‘I could always wear a paper bag over my head.’

‘OK. Done.’ She shakes his hand and I am worried her face will actually crack from smiling.

Half a very happy hour later, Immy virtually skips off to the store to pick up her new dress, leaving Scott with me.

I
can’t help giving him a hug. ‘That was nice of you.’

‘Not really. She’s a great girl and I’d love to experience an Oxford summer ball once before I leave. I’ve worked far too hard this term. And it may be the only time I ever do.’

I feel a wave of emotion myself at the thought of my precious time here running out. ‘Don’t upset Immy, will you?’

He frowns hard. ‘You’re telling me not to upset her? You’re telling me how to run
my
love life? Hey, Lauren, look after your own. Immy and I, we’re quite capable of taking care of ourselves.’

I raise my eyebrows. ‘Hey, that’s what I’m worried about.’

Later that evening, I’m sitting on Alexander’s sofa after dinner, with my feet in his lap.

He massages my soles with his fingers, and I’m trying to decide if I’m a freak for being so turned on by that. I remember the first time I ended up in this house and he did this to me. That seems a lifetime away and yet only five minutes. Every vow I made then has been blown out of the water, every misgiving I had has been proven true.

He rubs the pads of my toes with his fingers, absent-mindedly. ‘Lauren … I may be a little late home on Saturday evening.’

‘What? But that’s the night of the ball!’

He
looks at me. ‘Yup. I have to go to London on business but I’m sure I’ll be back in time.’

‘Saturday? On estate business? Surely it won’t go on that late, and besides, you’re paying the solicitors. Can’t they sort it?’

‘Not family business. It’s work.’ He keeps his fingers around my ankle, almost as if he wants to hold me captive in case I decide to leave. I’m trying hard not to overreact. I don’t want anything to spoil this final evening, but it’s so disappointing I want to shout at him.

‘Don’t worry. We booked a late dinner sitting and I hope to be home by eight-ish at the latest. If I could get out of it, I would.’

I shrug. ‘It’s fine. I’ll see you when I see you.’ I can’t help but feel bitterly disappointed – we haven’t got long left together and I’ve been building up to this ball for ages. In my head, it is the last thing to look forward to before reality hits and I won’t be able to put that conversation with Alexander off any longer. Earlier today, I had an email from the Ross Foundation about the final arrangements for my job interview. I also booked my flight home to Washington but there’s no way I’m going to complicate things by bringing any of that up now.

‘I will be here. I promise,’ he soothes, seeing my face. ‘Now, I don’t know about you but I think we’ve talked enough.’ The hand that had been rubbing my feet begins to snake deliciously up my leg with the lightest of touches. I had more to say, but for now I hear Immy’s
voice in my head, telling me to live in the moment. I can worry about tomorrow tomorrow … at least that’s what I’m telling myself for now.

On the evening of the ball, Alexander’s bedroom is lit with the pink glow of the setting sun. Immy has stayed on in her room and Scott is calling for her, but we both did the time-honoured thing and got our hair and mani-pedis done together earlier in town. Just as I’m applying a final coat of lip-gloss and wondering whether to phone Immy and say I’ll be late, a key scrapes in the front-door lock downstairs.

‘Alexander?’

‘Yes, it’s me.’ His boots thump on the stairs and he walks into the bedroom, wearing army fatigues.

‘Told you I’d make it.’

I tap my Cartier. ‘By the skin of your teeth.’

‘You didn’t believe me, did you?’

‘Of course I did,’ I lie.

With a look that says he definitely doesn’t believe me, he kisses me deeply. I am almost dizzy with pleasure when he pulls away. ‘I guess I’d better get changed,’ he says, ‘much as I’d love to get you out of that exquisite dress and ravish you! You OK to wait for me?’

I nod and send him off with a cheeky pat on the bottom, and whilst he’s in the shower, I check I have all I need in my silver clutch and add another coat of mascara, though my fingers are shaky with excitement. The hiss of water from the bathroom stops as I’m retriev
ing the ball tickets from the sideboard in the sitting room. I’m too afraid of creasing my dress to sit down on the sofa. I was going to wear the one he bought me for Rome, but then I saw this gorgeous oyster-coloured one-shoulder silk affair in a boutique, and I couldn’t resist it.
It
is
my last Oxford ball, after all
, I kept telling myself, and the silver heels Alexander gave me for the Rome trip
do
go perfectly with it.

I’m also restless with the twitchiness that comes with being ready first and far too early. I’m hyper-aware that this is my last evening with my friends, and I want to savour every moment.

The floorboards creak above me, and there are dull thuds as drawers open and shut. I shuffle the newspapers on the coffee table into a neat pile and throw an empty cookie wrapper into the trash, painfully aware of my need to be on the move – preferably in a big open space where I can keep on going and never have to stop. Because every minute that ticks by brings me closer to the moment when we’ll have to part.

The clock chimes. After picking up my wrap from the sofa, I call up the stairs. ‘Alexander! It’s eight forty-five already. We
have
to go!’

‘Coming!’

Half a minute later, he walks into the room, still adjusting his bow tie. That familiar tight feeling constricts my throat. He’s in mess dress, of course, and is band-box fresh, from the tight black trousers to the scarlet mess jacket, with its row of miniature medals.
He looks incredible. I’ve seen the uniform more than once, of course, but every time I’m knocked out by how perfectly it suits him. It’s like a second skin for him … and the kick in my gut reminds me that this interlude at Wyckham has only been a hiatus. Alexander belongs in the military; he lives for the army, no matter what he says. He doesn’t belong to me, that’s for sure.

He peers in the mirror above the fireplace and rakes his fingers through his damp hair.

‘Right. No time for a blow-dry or shave. Will I do?’

The five o’ clock shadow at his jaw only adds to his appeal for me. I want to jump on him now but I shrug. ‘You scrubbed up OK, I guess.’

He glances down at his jacket. ‘You don’t seem too sure. In fact, you remind me of my colour sergeant at Sandhurst, although you’re a little easier on the eye. Is my uniform not correct? Do you want me to change?’

I try not to laugh. ‘No. You look fine as you are.’

‘Good.’ Then he looks at me again, almost as if he hadn’t noticed me when he first walked in, or perhaps as if he’s
decided
to notice me now.

‘Is there something wrong with
me
?’ I ask.

‘Wrong? Quite the opposite. You look edible, and I mean edible. In fact, I don’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful …’ His gaze lingers on me, and my body responds as if he were actually running his fingertips over my bare skin.

‘
But
I was hoping you might consider a change of jewellery.’

Instinctively, my hand travels to the Cartier diamond necklace that Alexander gave me in the first term. ‘Don’t you think this goes with my dress?’

‘It’s beautiful but I’ve been meaning to give you something else. Wait here.’

We’re already running behind but I’m not going to protest. He crosses to the dresser in the sitting room and opens a drawer. When he turns back to me, he’s holding a dark-blue leather box. The lid is plain so I have no idea where it’s from, but for that very reason, I’m guessing it holds something special. While I never expect or want expensive gifts from him, I’ve also learned by now that it’s useless to refuse them. Especially tonight.

‘For you,’ he says, quietly. ‘Open it.’

With a press of the catch, the lid flips open to reveal what I think is a choker, glittering within a satin nest. The necklace is made up of what must be diamonds and sapphires, designed as tiny leaves and flowers. The jewels flash with a white fire when I lift the piece carefully out of the box and hold it in my palm.

‘Alexander, it’s stunning. I can’t believe you got me this.’ I look up, thinking I might actually cry.

His eyes are alight with pleasure. ‘I’m glad you like it. It’ll be even better against your skin. Shall I put it on?’ And with that, his fingers brush the nape of my neck
and the choker tightens briefly around my throat. I want to keep his hand there, to move it down my body, to forget the ball altogether. This man, who looks absolutely fucking gorgeous, never ceases to amaze me and I close my eyes to regain control. We really can’t miss the ball.

‘Is that OK? Not too tight?’ he asks, his voice low and gentle. I’m pretty sure he’s had the same thoughts as me.

‘No. It’s perfect.’ I manage to move away from him and walk over to the mirror above the fireplace. The sapphires look sensational with my gown and I have a sneaking suspicion the choker may be a Tiffany.

‘I love the art deco style.’

His face appears next to me. ‘Good.’ I detect a rare glimpse of hesitation in his expression. ‘You
do
like it?’

‘It’s beyond beautiful, thank you, but you shouldn’t have.’

He taps his watch. ‘Lauren, we have to leave for the ball now, as you helpfully keep pointing out. There’s no time for argument and besides, you should realize by now that I won’t take no for an answer.’

Under my fingertips, the jewels feel cool and the slightest movement, even my breathing, makes them sparkle with an inner fire. The choker must be the most beautiful piece I’ve ever seen and it complements my dress perfectly. I can’t take my eyes off my reflection and Alexander must have noticed.

‘Unless,’ he says, kissing the bare flesh between my
shoulder blades, ‘you’d rather be late, because if we do wait much longer, I’ll decide I’d rather stay here and have you naked except for the choker and heels. I’ve already been wondering how I’ll get through ten hours without getting you out of that dress.’

‘Hey, no,’ I tease, batting his hand away. ‘We’ll miss our dinner reservation …’

His eyes glint dangerously. ‘Who needs food?’

If he touches me again now, I’ll never make it to the ball. I steel myself. ‘We arranged to meet Immy and Scott at nine. We can’t let them down and we need to set off now … Come on, we’ve got all night.’

He heaves in a deep sigh. ‘OK, but I warn you, I’ll find a way by dawn.’

‘I look forward to it,’ I tease. How the hell am I ever going to get through this whole evening?

He holds out his injured arm. ‘Right then, you’d better take my arm, Ms Cusack.’

‘Guess I’ve no choice, Captain Hunt.’