A Country Scandal: a sexy, scandalous page-turner

by Sasha Morgan

  The Templar was anything but quiet. Finula was breathless behind the bar, serving the jam-packed crowd. Luckily her dad had called in extra staff so she would be able to call in at Megan’s later. Finula didn’t want a late night, wanting to look her best as bridesmaid to Megan – and for all the press, she thought, daunted. There were so many faces tonight she didn’t recognise. This kind of wedding brought out all sorts of people, not just the starstruck and inquisitive, but neighbouring villagers, journalists and reporters. Treweham was no stranger to media coverage with the likes of Tobias, Seamus and Dylan here, but this surpassed anything they had previously experienced. Finula hoped Megan was coping. She saw a tall, dark man enter the pub carrying a camera. Another news reporter, no doubt, she thought. He made his way to the bar. He spoke in a soft Irish accent and instantly Finula knew his origin to be Roscommon, the same county in Ireland as her dad came from. He ordered a Guinness, which Dermot served, then chatted briefly, obviously remarking on their shared home turf. Finula strained to hear what they were saying, but couldn’t for the noise of the pub. Then she saw her dad hand over a room key. The man must be staying over.

  ‘Who’s that?’ she asked when at last there was a quiet moment. ‘Another reporter?’

  ‘No. He’s a producer. Nothing to do with the wedding.’

  ‘A producer?’ Finula was intrigued. ‘What kind of producer?’

  ‘Ask him yourself,’ Dermot tilted his head to the man who had reappeared at the bar and had evidently overheard Finula asking about him. She looked embarrassed; he smirked and raised an eyebrow. Finula blushed slightly and started to serve another customer.

  *

  Megan’s mum had discreetly left The Templar early and sneaked off to her daughter’s cottage. What a commotion. She never would have expected this for her daughter’s wedding. What with a lord for a future son-in-law, Treweham Hall Megan’s new home and now the media at full pelt, it was all a rum do. The main thing was that Megan was happy, which she undoubtedly was, thank goodness. Gone was the sad, empty girl who had been totally walked over by that wretched Adam. Then the poor girl had had to contend with the bombshell her grandmother had kindly dropped on her. Now she had to face the press and all the hullabaloo that entailed. Walking briskly against the chill in the air, she quickly made it to Bluebell Cottage. It was dusk, the early autumn nights had started to draw in. Knocking on the back door, she saw Megan sitting at the kitchen table with just a lamp on.

  Megan saw her mum at the window and let her in. ‘Did anyone follow you?’ she asked.

  ‘No, don’t worry, love, no one saw me.’

  ‘I feel like a prisoner in my own home.’

  ‘I know, Megan, but once the wedding’s over, it’ll be fine.’ She looked at the kitchen table and noticed the Parma violet tin with the letters and photographs in it.

  ‘I’ve just been reading the letters again,’ explained Megan.

  Her mum nodded. ‘Let’s light the fire in the lounge and put the kettle on. It’s nippy out there.’

  Megan laughed. ‘That’s just what Gran would have said.’ Suddenly they were both filled with emotion.

  ‘She would,’ agreed her mum, and reached out for a hug. Together they embraced, tears tumbling down their faces.

  ‘I miss her so much,’ Megan choked.

  ‘I know, so do I,’ replied her mum, hugging her hard.

  A knock at the door made them both jump. It was Finula.

  ‘Come in!’ called Megan.

  Finula looked very bright eyed and excited. ‘Hi!’ She plonked down a bottle of wine. ‘Crack this open.’ Then, looking at Megan’s stomach, she quickly added, ‘For me and your mum, not you.’

  ‘Finula’s right, love, you save yourself for tomorrow, keep a clear head.’

  Megan nodded and looked at Finula, and the two exchanged knowing smiles.

  *

  Tobias was almost at breaking point. He knew full well how the media operated and had put plans in place to cover all eventualities. His main concern was Megan and how she was managing the complete invasion in privacy. It was different for him, he’d grown up with it, learning to expect the lengths they went to to get a story. It had been a while since he’d been in the spotlight, but now he was about to take centre stage again. He cursed his position and how it had affected him at every stage in his life. Even when he had lost his fiancée the gutter press hadn’t relented. Bastards. He had called in extra security, contacted the police for assistance, and had hired a bodyguard to follow Megan and keep watch by her cottage. He only hoped this pressure wasn’t affecting her health, or their baby’s. The sooner they were away on honeymoon the better. He knew Megan thought him a control freak and was being secretive about where they were going, but truth be told he didn’t want it leaking in case they were followed. Megan might let it slip to Finula, and then the whole of Treweham would more than likely know. Better to keep it to himself. He knocked back a brandy.

  Seamus, Tatum and the girls were staying at the Hall, and they’d been a welcome distraction, with Beatrice and Celia entertaining them with tales from their cruise. Sebastian was in good humour, too, acting the fool with the girls, who had been giddy with laughter. Tobias and Seamus had kept an eye out, closing all the curtains and giving strict instructions to the staff to be extra vigilant. Now they were in his study and the TV was on. Tobias glanced towards it on hearing his name.

  ‘Lord Tobias Cavendish-Blake, the notorious wild child, is to marry Megan Taylor, a local girl from the leafy village of Treweham tomorrow…’ Pictures of him then flashed across the screen, some from his early days with Seamus, surrounded by glamorous women.

  Seamus stood next to him and knocked back his brandy, too. ‘They don’t ever let up, do they?’ Then the inevitable came, making Tobias’ stomach contract.

  ‘Tobias was engaged ten years ago to Carrie Palmer, who was tragically killed by a drunk driver…’ Then images of Carrie filled the screen. Tobias drew in a ragged breath and clutched his glass. There was even a shot of her gravestone. Seamus picked up the remote control and switched the television off.

  ‘You don’t need this, mate.’ He poured him another brandy and Tobias took it with a trembling hand. ‘It’ll be over this time tomorrow. You and Megan will be married and away from it all. Just concentrate on the life ahead of you, Tobias.’

  ‘I know, you’re right.’ He channelled his thoughts on Megan and his unborn child, which immediately calmed him. He pictured Seamus, Tatum and their happy little family. This would be him, too, at last. ‘Come on, let’s join the others.’ Seamus slapped his back. ‘Tomorrow will be fine, trust me.’

  ‘Thanks, Seamus.’

  *

  Megan, her mum and Finula had enjoyed their girls’ night in. Fortunately they hadn’t watched the TV so Megan was unaware of the extent of the coverage being plastered all over the evening news. Kate had texted to say she had arrived safely and was going straight to bed. She had arranged to see Megan first thing in the morning.

  It was late by the time Megan’s mum and Finula left, after checking the coast was clear. Next door in Ted’s old cottage was a bodyguard keeping close watch. It was all a little unnerving. Megan was actually starting to like the idea of being tucked up safely in the fortress of Treweham Hall along with Tobias and his quirky family.

  It was half-past midnight when the phone rang. Staring at it, she paused before answering. Then, recognising the number displayed, she picked it up. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hi. You OK?’ He sounded concerned.

  ‘Yes, of course. Are you?’

  ‘Yes. Had a good evening?’

  ‘We did, thanks, and you?’

  ‘Hmm, Megan, have you seen the news?’ he anxiously asked. Megan knew exactly what he was getting at and had deliberately avoided putting on the TV.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Tobias, it wouldn’t make any difference, you know, no matter what’s said about you.’

  He sighe
d down the phone. ‘I love you, Megan.’

  ‘And I love you, Tobias. See you in the morning. I’ll be the one in the white dress.’

  He laughed. ‘And I’ll be the happiest man alive.’

  *

  Finula rushed through the back door of The Templar. She could hear voices in the bar. Frowning, she poked her head round the door to see her dad talking to the producer chap, who caught sight of her and called out, ‘Fancy a nightcap?’

  She edged back hesitantly, but then Dermot turned round.

  ‘Ah, Finula, come and meet Marcus.’ Entering the bar, she took in this stranger’s handsome face. He had a dishevelled, swarthy look about him with stubble and dark hair. His eyes were green with amber flecks, reminding her of someone but she couldn’t quite place who. He held out his hand and she shook it.

  ‘Hello there.’

  ‘Hi.’ He held her hand a fraction longer than expected. She looked at him and he stared back. ‘Well, better get some sleep, big day tomorrow,’ she gabbled, suddenly a touch self-conscious. ‘Good night.’

  ‘Night, Princess,’ her dad called.

  Finula climbed the stairs and fell into bed, a warm glow flickered inside her.

  Chapter 61

  It was daybreak. A rosy sunrise glowed through the valley, just as it had many months ago when Tobias had galloped through the early morning mist in despair. Now he was the happiest and most content he had ever been. Drawing back the heavy curtains, he surveyed the grounds before him. The staff were busy carrying out wicker chairs and tables, ready for the guests to sip champagne on the lawn, before entering the Great Hall for the wedding breakfast. He chuckled at seeing his mother fuss, pointing and flapping at everyone. She was in her element. Celia was on standby, trying her utmost to calm Beatrice down. A knock at his door interrupted his thoughts. Turning, he saw Henry enter the bedroom with his dark grey pinstriped, morning suit, pristine white shirt and silver-grey tie.

  ‘Your attire, sir.’ Henry hung it on the wardrobe door.

  ‘Thank you, Henry.’ Henry bowed slightly and left the room, leaving Tobias to gaze out of the window at the commotion.

  Sebastian was the next distraction, singing at the top of his voice about Tobias getting married in the morning and how the bells were ‘gonna chime’!

  Tobias laughed and threw a pillow at him. ‘Be quiet, you fool.’

  ‘So,’ Sebastian rubbed his hands together, ‘how are we feeling? Nervous? Excited? Still amazed you’ve bagged a girl like Megan?’

  ‘All of the above,’ Tobias laughed again.

  ‘Seriously, bro,’ Sebastian looked sincerely at Tobias, ‘I’m pleased for you.’

  ‘Thanks, Sebastian, and one day I’ll be saying the same to you.’ The two brothers embraced.

  ‘Right, I’ll leave you to bathe and dress. Then, show time!’ Sebastian jazzed his hands.

  Tobias rolled his eyes. ‘Go on, out of here.’

  *

  Megan was remarkably calm. A tranquil peace surrounded her as she ate a breakfast of egg and bacon. To her surprise she was hungry and easily managed a full plate. She had expected to wake a nervous wreck, but the steady, calming influence of her mother and Finula the previous evening had steered her. She peeped out of the curtains to see more reporters lined up by the row of cottages, patiently waiting for the first glimpse of her. It all felt so surreal. Dylan would be here in two hours. Then she saw Kate scurrying up the lane. She smiled, having missed her old chum. Opening her front door, she quickly ushered her inside and embraced her.

  ‘Kate, it’s so good to see you!’

  ‘You, too! I can’t believe this is happening! Have you seen outside?’

  Megan nodded. ‘I know, it’s mad, isn’t it?’

  ‘Sorry I couldn’t come round last night. I was knackered from the drive.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I understand. How come you couldn’t get the day off work? Nothing to do with Adam, was it?’ The thought had crossed her mind that he was peevish enough to put a spanner in the works if he could.

  Kate giggled. ‘No. He’s gone, sacked. Thought I’d save that gem of information for you.’

  Megan’s eye’s widened. ‘Why? What’s happened?’

  ‘Well, apparently his secretary – not you-know-who, another one, called Jennifer – reported him for indecent behaviour!’

  ‘No! You’re kidding!’

  ‘About time, I say,’ replied Kate with a firm nod.

  Well, well, well, Adam had finally got his just deserts, thought Megan with satisfaction. She still found it hard to believe she had ever been taken in by him.

  After a coffee and a catch-up, Megan took a long warm bubble bath and relaxed, taking deep breaths in contemplation, while Kate was busy getting ready in the spare bedroom. After drying off, Megan rubbed in her favourite body lotion, which smelt of freesias, then carefully dried her hair into a smooth bob. Kate applied her make-up delicately, to keep that natural look Megan wanted. Now for the dress. Carefully Kate helped her into it. It was the epitome of vintage-inspired femininity, with its scalloped Bardot neckline. The ivory silk fell to a chapel train, creating an elegant and timeless fit. Megan looked every bit the demure and romantic bride. She tentatively put on the diamond tiara Beatrice had given her and fixed it in place. All done. Not too shabby, she told her reflection.

  ‘Oh, Megan, you look gorgeous,’ whispered Kate.

  ‘Thanks, Kate. You’d better dash.’

  ‘Will do.’ Kate collected her bag and made her way to Treweham Hall, choosing to walk along the back footpath, out of sight, as directed.

  Megan heard a stir outside. Looking out of the window, she saw Dylan’s horses and carriage in the distance trotting up the track. She took a steady breath and pulled her shoulders back. Time to go.

  Finula was in the carriage along with Megan’s dad, waving and smiling at the crowd. She was quite enjoying the attention, unlike Mr Taylor, who looked rather startled and uncomfortable.

  Finula had woken in a similar mood to the bride, composed. When she had walked down the stairs of the pub her dad had clapped her. ‘You look amazing, Finula,’ he bellowed with pride. Megan’s mum, dad and brother all agreed, as they sat at a nearby table. She did indeed look amazing in her bridesmaid dress, a bronze, chiffon number. It was sleeveless, with one shoulder, and its soft pleats ran down her figure and rested on the ankle. She turned to the side at hearing a wolf whistle. Marcus was sitting at a table eating breakfast. He had his camera with him.

  ‘Mind if I take a picture?’ He directed the question to Dermot, which made Finula smile to herself.

  ‘Be my guest,’ replied Dermot.

  Marcus got up from the table and stood in front of her. She could feel herself blushing again. ‘There we go,’ he spoke from behind the lens, ‘and another for good measure.’ He clicked the button, sending flashes across the room. ‘All done,’ he smiled. Finula lowered her eyes.

  ‘Dylan’s here!’ called Dermot. Finula quickly went to the door to meet him. Dylan was looking immaculate in his riding suit. Finula squinted to read the sign on the back of the carriage, expecting it to say, ‘Getting Married’. It didn’t. It read, ‘Delany’s Racing Yard’. Finula pointed to it and started to giggle.

  ‘Shush,’ hissed Dylan, ‘Tobias will kill me.’ Well, he couldn’t miss this opportunity, could he? Megan’s dad hopped into the carriage next to Finula, looking terribly self-conscious. His wife and son stood by, waving and laughing.

  ‘Let’s go!’ Dylan threw over his shoulder, and cracked his whip, forcing the two of them forward. Finula was astonished at the number of people lining the pathways. At last Dylan turned the carriage into Megan’s lane and gently drew the horses to a halt outside Bluebell Cottage. There she was, looking as radiant as expected. Megan’s dad climbed down to walk his daughter up the garden path and into the carriage. Flashes, cheers and applause came from the gathered spectators, and Megan gave them a captivating smile.

  ‘Megan, you look beautiful,�
�� her dad whispered, barely containing his pride.

  Soon Dylan had driven the carriage through the village to arrive at Treweham Hall. Security men stood at each side of the huge, cast-iron gates, ready to lock them shut once the carriage was inside. Once they were secured, everybody gave a sigh of relief.

  Dylan turned to his passengers.

  ‘Now let the wedding begin.’ He stepped down from the driver’s seat and was quickly joined by Flora, who helped him steady the horses.

  ‘How did they do?’ she asked Dylan.

  ‘Well, Megan and Finula are fine, but the father’s terrified.’

  ‘I meant the horses,’ laughed Flora.

  Dylan shook his head. ‘Ever the horsewoman, eh?’ he laughed, and kissed her full on the mouth. Unbeknown to him, a reporter who was still hanging around the gates cheekily snapped them with his camera. Once Dylan and Flora had handed the horses over to the grooms, they sped into the Hall and made for the chapel, leaving Finula to fuss and make sure Megan’s dress was in place. Then, with Megan’s father leading his daughter, they slowly walked down the marble-floored hallway, up the sweeping staircase, and along the corridor to the chapel entrance. Organ music was playing and the chapel was full of scented lilies. Shafts of sunlight illuminated the stained-glass windows.

  Megan saw the back of Tobias, standing next to Seamus on the front row. Her chest started to pound. Seamus turned and gave her a grin. He whispered something in Tobias’ ear. Sebastian turned round, too, and blew her a kiss, causing ripples of laughter. Ever the showman, thought Megan with affection.

  Gradually she and her father walked down the aisle to meet Tobias. He finally faced her and his heart missed a beat. My God, was there ever a more stunning bride? His green eyes blazed with passion as they locked with Megan’s like radar.

  The ceremony was both emotional and joyful. Sebastian gave a reading of the Wedding at Cana and afterwards made an anecdote of the wine never running out at Treweham Hall, causing more titters from the congregation. Once the priest had announced them man and wife, a huge applause sounded from the pews and the chapel bell chimed.