New Beginnings (Changes #2)

Maggie gasped. Her eyes darted around the silvered darkness of her bedroom, pulse racing and a cold sweat clammy on her forehead. Her fingers clenched in Deefor’s thick fur, drawing his calm strength into her, fighting back the last tendrils of nightmare that writhed in her mind.

Her German Shepherd had woken her and now laid his heavy head on her legs, whining softly.

It’s OK, she said, to convince herself as much as him, and gently rubbed round his ears.

She watched moon-cast shadows of naked birch branches dancing across the wall. They ebbed and surged like the waves still pounding in her head. The wind died and the branch shadows stilled.

I just wish it wasn’t that particular beach...

It was many years since she had been to Horseshoe Bay, but knew every contour intimately. A curve of golden sand was protected by high cliffs. At either end a horn of rock meant access was only possible by boat or by clambering over the weed-strewn rocks at low tide. She had known it in days of sunshine, days of young love, hope and happiness. In the dream it was dark with wind-torn storm clouds, a cold and dangerous place.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

In the dream Iain had left her far behind, had climbed over the far rocks, ignoring her cries, and left her to the mercy of the waves. That’s what made the recurrent nightmare so cruel.

She gave in to the urge to look at her honeymoon photos, to remind herself what the bay looked like in bright sunshine, to convince herself that she and Iain had laughed and loved and played there together.

She took the album over to her dressing table and turned on the mirror light. She tucked her soft brown curls behind her ears and turned the pages slowly. She was amazed once more at how little Iain had changed physically. His recent enforced inactivity had added a few pounds, the years had added a touch of grey to his dark hair and a few lines to his face, but that was all. In the photos his intensely blue eyes glowed with his love for her.

Cameras don’t lie, do they, Deefor? She dropped her hand to his ears and he leaned into her fingers.

She let the familiarity of her room and the comforting presence of her dog push thoughts of the dream away. Soon she felt able to settle under the quilt once more. She gave Deefor one last caress and ordered him back to his bed in the corner.

Maggie lay on her back, her right palm sliding across the cool sheet on Iain’s side of the bed. She believed him absolutely when he promised there would be no more mistresses, but she was sure Iain had not disclosed all of his secrets. It was rare, but she could not ignore the way his thoughts sometimes slid into a private place where his eyes reflected some deep sadness.

A place from which she was excluded.

She knew that traumatic as the car crash had been for the family, ultimately it had been the best thing that could have happened for her relationship with Iain. Forced to face facts she had hidden from for too long, she had taken control of her life and found the inner strength to become an equal partner in their marriage.

She lay there thinking how her life could have changed in a totally different way. A few minutes either way and there would have been no witnesses to the crash which killed his lover, Natasha. Her wealthy and influential parents had demanded the full weight of the law be used against Iain. They wanted a custodial sentence but the witnesses testified that, in trying to get out of the moving car, Natasha had been the one at fault.

Maggie had found Iain’s prolonged coma very difficult to handle. Her need for answers from him had been a sharp, persistent strain. Then, when he had woken, his frustration at his reduced physical and mental strength had bruised everyone in his vicinity.

She glanced over at Deefor and smiled fondly.

At least by then we’d found each other, hadn’t we, my boy? she thought.

She was sure it was sheer stubbornness that had fuelled Iain’s recovery, and as his health improved, so did his temper.

She recalled how he had wooed her, how strong his determination had been to bind her to him again. She adored their newly revived physical relationship, too. So why was there still this core of bleakness he hid from the world? Would she be able to handle it if she ever found out what it was?

Yes, occasionally he still has outbursts of temper but he wouldn’t be the man I fell in love with all those years ago if that wasn’t the case. He’s a passionate man, a man I still love, for better or worse.

Her need for him was deeply ingrained in her. It had been a core part of her since they had met when she was seventeen.

Who would I be without him?

She glanced at the clock. 02:33. Just another fifteen hours or so and they would be home. She wondered if Chloe would stop long enough to eat with them before heading back to her flat in London. Chloe was champing at the bit to leave the PR firm she’d been with since leaving university. After nearly three years she felt her creativity was being stifled. Her passion now was her new interior design business, but she did not have the client base and contacts in place yet. She was forced to use her annual leave on private interior design commissions like this project she and her father were collaborating on.

Please, God, don’t let her jump ship too soon.

Maggie’s mind turned to her other child, James, and his wife, Keela. The accident had also been a trigger for them. Life is short, dreams should be lived. They were now living their dream, on their new market garden on family land.

And I’ll be able to cosset my first grandchild come the summer. A new generation in that lovely old farmhouse. So many changes in one year for just one family. Changes for the better for me, for Iain, for James and Keela. It will be your turn this coming year, Chloe, I’m sure of it.

She snuggled her head deeper into the pillow and counted Christmas tree candy canes to entice sleep to her once more.

~~~

~~~

PART I - FAMILY

~~~

Chapter 1 - Father and daughter

For goodness’ sake, Chloe! Iain glared at his daughter, his frown lines deep. Just because lover boy wasn’t in attendance on you there’s no reason to take it out on the car.

His daughter’s jerky gear change had broken his train of thought, just when he was close to cracking the problem. And stop grinding your teeth as well as the gears.

I am not grinding my teeth. Her eyes darkened almost to navy as she returned his glare. That was a one-off slip. I’m a very good driver, as you well know.

His anger drained away. How had he ever managed to father such a beautiful daughter, he wondered? His feisty Princess, who was much too intelligent to fear any dumb blonde jokes, but, he had to admit, still showed immaturity on occasion.

I know you’re in a strop. Iain’s lips twitched - A strop? She looks ready to explode! - but he managed not to laugh at her. And you’d better watch the road, not me – the lights coming up are red.

She slammed on the brake and sat there, her thumb tapping a jerky rhythm on the wheel.

Iain eased his leg position and let out a slow breath, trying not to grimace. His need for comfort was suddenly overwhelming. Tell you what – don’t take the bypass. Carry straight on into town and park up in the market place. We’ll stay at the Fox and Goose tonight. Their rooms are reasonable, their food is excellent and we can both rest before the journey home. Your mother won’t mind us being a day later than expected.

But we’re so close to home - another hour and we’ll be there.

I insist. I can’t drive us back -

Not without a licence, Chloe muttered.

His lips thinned in annoyance. Yes, thank you for that reminder, Chloe. As I was saying, I can’t drive us back and your mind is not on what you’re doing. I don’t fancy another long stay in hospital, thank you very much.

The memory of the May accident was still strong for both of them.

Iain missed being fit enough for his sports and resented not being able to rely on a formerly razor sharp mind. He did count himself lucky to have got off with a hefty fine, but the two year loss of his licence was hurting. His independent nature chafed at his current reliance on other people.

Chloe took a deep, calming breath. Sorry, Daddy. I’ll be OK now. She flicked on the left indicator but Iain reached over and cancelled it.

Do as I suggest. Iain patted her leg and leaned back tiredly against the headrest. It will be a good chance to discuss the latest changes to the project without interruption before you head back to London.

Chloe saw him wince and realised he looked totally drained. They had had an early start the day before, and two long days on site. Now just the drive back was more than he could ask of himself. His progress since the car crash may have been better than the family had dared hope for not so many months ago, but his stamina and ability to concentrate were still not what they were.

She parked in the market square, directly opposite the Fox, and watched him stiffly ease himself out. The repaired knee cap gave him problems in chilly, damp air, and his daily exercises had not quite regained him full strength down his left side.

Her father didn’t appreciate help, so she didn’t offer. She took their overnight bags out of the boot and led the way to reception. A meal and an early night, without discussions about the project, seemed a better idea to her. Besides which, she didn’t want to dwell on who had not been there, who had not kept his promise to her or even let her know why.

Once they were settled in their rooms, Iain decided on a long hot bath and a nap before eating.

Give me a knock about seven, he told Chloe, his voice curt as he bit back on the pain, then you can order the venison stew for me while I dress.

He orders me about as though I’m a child still! She bit her lip, this time, and let it ride.

Chloe had noticed a baby grand in the lounge. She decided to go down and ask if they’d mind her playing for a couple of hours while she waited for her father. It would stop her thinking about Joel’s silence and broken promise.

Iain undressed slowly while the bath ran, feeling very tired and stiff. He pinched around his waist, disliking the signs of flabbiness that were creeping over his tall, athletic frame. He knew it was only to be expected, after seven months of no squash or rowing, but that didn’t mean it was easy to accept. He was sure, too, that the touches of grey in his thick, dark hair, that Maggie said looked distinguished but he disliked, were becoming more pronounced.

‘Not much to be done about that, but I will get fully fit again.’

He took his mobile into the bathroom, eased himself, with a long appreciative sigh, into the hot water, then speed-dialled home.

*

Having been told that, as long as no-one else was in the lounge and bar area, she was welcome to play, Chloe seated herself at the Steinway. She started with Bach’s Praeludium I, just to gently limber up, then followed it with Chopin’s Prelude in C Minor to really stretch her fingers. She paused with her fingers still on the keys.

A glass of red wine was placed on top of the piano. She noticed the strength of the hand holding the glass, the well-manicured nails, the fine black hairs peeping from a gleaming white shirt cuff, and the quality of the jacket sleeve. Her eyes travelled up to the face of the man beside her. It did not disappoint.

Please, don’t let me interrupt your playing.

His faintly accented but cultured baritone gave Chloe the same impression of reined-in passion and power as his athletic body. She shivered.

I thought you might appreciate this rather exquisite Pinot Noir I find stocked here.

Thank you. Her voice sounded husky. She stopped and cleared her throat. But I have to be careful with red wine – it tends to give me a headache.

This one won’t, I promise you. His eyes smiled as well as his lips and Chloe believed him. Please, play me something else.

He sat back in one of the comfortable lounge chairs and placed his own glass of wine on the small oak table at his side. When she hesitated he nodded encouragement and steepled his fingers, waiting for her to start.

After a moment’s thought she chose Debussy’s Arabesque I and was soon lost in the embellished arpeggios. As the final pianissimo phrases faded into silence her hands dropped into her lap. She was brought back to her surroundings when her admirer clapped softly.

Bravo! He kissed his fingers to her. You have a beautiful touch. Now come and sit here and let us introduce ourselves. I want to know all about you.

Italian? she wondered, taking in the olive skin and black hair. She found his heavy-lidded eyes very sexy, real come-to-bed eyes. They were such a dark brown she found it difficult to fathom what he was thinking.

I could drown in eyes like that.

She was very aware of his eyes on her and smoothed down her skirt. He stood up as she approached, took her fingertips in his hand and bent over to kiss them.

Alessandro Marcello, at your service.

His gaze travelled slowly up, lingering over her bust, her lips, and finally held her eyes.

Chloe - Chloe McTavish. She could feel the beating of her heart, the blood thrumming through her pulse. The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and her teeth briefly drew the bottom lip inwards.

He guided her to the chair opposite him. Feeling rather self-conscious, she perched on the edge, slid her legs sideways and crossed her ankles, then took a nervous sip of wine. She glanced up under her lashes, and to her chagrin suddenly giggled.

I’m sorry – it just feels like I’ve fallen into a scene from a Victorian romance! She replaced her wine on the table and held a bent forefinger against her lips, eyes dancing.

Alessandro looked startled for a moment, then laughed too.

My family often tell me I am too old-fashioned in my manners, he said, but at least you said ‘Victorian romance’ and not ‘Gothic horror’. ‘Fair maiden about to be used and abused by evil dark stranger’ is not the impression I wish to give.

Chloe blushed. I didn’t mean… I shouldn’t have said…. Oh!

She held both cheeks, took a deep breath and managed to look at him again. Shall we start again, Alessandro?

Please – call me Alesso. I want us to be friends.

Yes, I should like that. She took another sip of wine as she gathered her thoughts. So, what brings you to this part of the world, Alesso?

Business mainly, and a little pleasure too, I hope. I have a deep affection for this country.

And what business would that be?

He looked around, ensuring they were alone. Can you keep a secret?

She nodded, also checking for anyone else close by.

I am the owner of this hotel. In fact I own twenty five hotels in Britain now, mostly small ones like this. My large flagship hotels are in London and Edinburgh.

And this is a secret? she asked as Alesso took a sip of wine.

I find the best way to discover the normal standard of service to my guests is to be one, with no special treatment because of who I am, so I don’t book in as myself. However, it gets harder with each acquisition not to have my cover blown. Word spreads fast among hotel staff.

And office staff, she said. Worst of all, though, is a small village like the one I grew up in.

He saw her cute nose wrinkle up in a little grimace: his lips tingled with the desire to kiss it. Where is this small village of yours? Your accent is difficult to place.

In Surrey. She saw Alesso raise his eyebrows. Yes, I can assure you there are still such places in the Home Counties.

Chloe looked around, trying to assess the hotel from an owner’s point of view. It doesn’t look or feel like one of a chain of hotels.

And that is exactly what I want. My grandfather started the business in Italy and gradually spread through mainland Europe. In Britain, they are mine. I found them, bought them, they are mine, and I have the final say. I want them to be different. This one is small, ancient and... intimate. His voice caressed the word. "Others