Fever Cure

by Phillipa Ashley

  Yet he hadn’t minded, not when there’d been bacon sandwiches with tomato ketchup in the kitchen, an indulgence never allowed on the breakfast table upstairs. His eyes were drawn higher to the gilded staircase that arced up to the first floor. He winced, remembering the attempt at sliding down the banister that had landed him in the local casualty department. Sucking in a breath, he made his way to the open door that led to the drawing room and prepared for the fight of his life.

  Keira was having a wonderful time. The attention of three attractive men, one of whom she was in love with, two of whom were gorgeous and entertaining, was like having all the cookies in the jar at once. Dinner had been delicious. Not over the top, not piles of wasted food, just scrummy. So what if she felt like a modern-day Cinderella waiting for her hosts to turn into pumpkins or rats?

  After three glasses of champagne, she’d ceased to care or to notice that Tom was quiet and taciturn.

  Sitting at the other end of the dining table, his shirt undone and bow tie hanging loose, Tom was still stinging from the way Gareth and Charlie had monopolised Keira at dinner. Positioning themselves either side of her and asking, “More champagne, Keira…?” or “What on earth do you see in an awkward customer like my brother?” Gareth had had her laughing out loud for a full fifteen minutes with rugby jokes, for hell’s sake. She didn’t laugh out loud with him like that.

  He knew it was ridiculous, especially considering the circumstances, and he felt stupid. He was jealous, and of two gay men, for goodness’ sake.

  Most of all, he felt scared of the feelings that had hit him as he’d watched Keira climbing the steps to his home. She’d looked so…so right there.

  “Excuse me,” he muttered, pushing away his half-eaten plate of cheese and biscuits. “I feel the need for some more port.”

  “There’s some in the billiards room,” said Charlie, regarding him with suspicion.

  Keira didn’t seem to notice him. She was too busy giggling as Gareth popped a truffle in her mouth and whispered something in her ear. His blond, cropped head was close enough to give her an aural exam. Hell, he was going to thump his brother’s partner in a minute, rugby international or not.

  He dropped the linen napkin on the table and got to his feet. “I’ll get it myself.”

  He knew damn well that he didn’t want any port. He wanted time to think.

  It didn’t take Charlie long to find him, where he was rolling billiard balls idly over the baize in the billiard room. The room was dim, lit only by the table’s overhead lighting. Tom sniffed and let out a sigh. It smelled like a bloody gentleman’s club—all oak panels and brandy and cigars.

  Charlie leaned on the table and caught a ball before it rolled into the pocket. “Tom, what’s up?”

  Tom picked up the ball from the triangle and cradled it in his hand, feeling the smoothness, the weight. “Nothing’s up. What makes you think anything has to be up?”

  “You hate port.”

  He hurled the ball onto the cloth, where it landed with a thud. “I hate this whole setup.”

  Charlie winced. “The hall or what’s happening with you and Keira? And please, have some respect for your heritage; that’s an antique table.”

  “Mind your own business, Charlie.”

  “I don’t think I will, actually, little brother. Not this time. Not when there’s this much at stake.”

  Tom turned his eyes on him and felt his chest tighten with anger.

  “What the hell do you mean by that?”

  “You’re destroying yourself with this fruitless quest you’re on. You and Keira.”

  “I know what I’m doing, and so does she. We’re both just making the most of what we can, while we can. That’s all we can do.”

  “Are you so very sure she knows the score?”

  He gripped the side of the table, furious with his brother.

  “Are you sure you know the score yourself? What you really want, and that you’re not just heading back to Papua out of guilt? Is that really what you want from life, shutting yourself away out there?” Charlie asked.

  Did he know what he wanted? He’d thought he had until now. Until he’d met Keira. Seeing her here in his home had shown him a dangerous alternative he hadn’t considered. Taking it would mean abandoning everything he had planned for himself and, worse, betraying the people he’d hurt, leaving the damage he’d done unpaid for. Tom grabbed the blue and squeezed it, wanting to crush it but knowing he would get nowhere.

  “I know exactly what I’m doing. Nothing can change it.”

  “You’re going to hurt her.”

  “I’m not.”

  He flinched as Charlie patted his arm lightly. “You’re certainly going to hurt yourself, Tom.”

  “I know you think you’re helping, but please, for my sake and Keira’s, will you mind you own business?”

  Charlie withdrew his hand and walked towards the door, then turned. “Tom, I have to tell you this, even if you don’t like it. You’re running away, boy, and that’s not like you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Wasn’t that fantastic?” Keira sighed with pleasure as Tom led her up the staircase after dinner. “Gareth is so funny. You know he played rugby for Wales, don’t you? He was a second row forward.”

  “That means nothing to me, I’m afraid. I did my utmost to avoid the rugby pitch at school, and I definitely didn’t have you down as a fan, Keira.”

  “I’m full of surprises,” she said enigmatically.

  He pushed open the door to their room. He was still feeling what his mother would have called “grumpy”. She’d have told him off and said, “Snap out of it, Tom, dear, for heaven’s sake” or “the wind will change and your face will stick like that”. What a good job it didn’t really happen, thought Tom; he’d have the devil to try to cure anyone of that. He wasn’t sure that there was a cure for the way he did feel either, as a toxic mix of confusion and doubt rampaged through his head and heart.

  He’d hardly said a word, certainly not a civil one, to anyone after their “chat”, because Charlie’s words kept tormenting him. Was he going to hurt Keira? Was he running away? All he knew right now was that he needed the comfort of her arms around him, desperately needed it. He placed a hand possessively on her back and propelled her gently through the door.

  “Full of surprises?” he murmured, the words catching in his throat. “I sincerely hope so. In you go, please.”

  He followed her inside. When they’d arrived, one of the staff had taken their bags up to the room, so this was her first glimpse of it. Keira had described his own room at the Lodge as “large”, and from her gasp, she must think their suite at Carew Hall was off the scale. Even Tom had to agree that the bed was incredible in its own right.

  Her mouth gaped as she walked around the magnificent four-poster with its foot posts and head posts and tapestry bed hangings.

  She shook her head in disbelief. “How old is that?”

  “Queen Anne, but don’t ask me if she slept in it.”

  “I hope they changed the sheets if she did!” She laughed as he took off his jacket and laid it on a chair. She ran a hand over the silk bed cover and bounced on it experimentally. “Do people really sleep in these things these days?”

  “No, they do not,” said Tom. He knew damn well what Charlie was up to. This was the room they gave bridal couples who held their weddings at Carew.

  She dashed to the window. “And—wow—the view. You can see all over the gardens. It’s amazing.”

  He watched her as she gazed out, straining her eyes to see the formal gardens stretching out in front of the hall. Moonlight had broken through the clouds and cast a silver light over the lawns and terraces, stone tubs and statues. “You are so lucky, Tom.”

  He sat down on the bed, unlacing his shoes.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I said you’re so lucky. To live here, have lived here, I mean.”

  He pulled o
ff his socks and climbed onto the bed, stretching out against the oak backboard.

  “Come here.”

  “Why?”

  I need you so much, I want you to… He squashed down the words that sprang unbidden to his mind. “I want you to make love to me.”

  She stood just out of reach of him, eyes sparkling with sensual promise. “Not until you admit how lucky you are to have all this.”

  “One. I don’t have all this, it belongs to my brother. Two. I couldn’t stand having all this. In fact, I thank my lucky stars every day that I don’t have the responsibility of keeping the damn place going. Three. It is a pure accident of birth that I have even had the use of it.”

  Keira stayed out of reach, her voice cross now. “Isn’t that rather a piece of inverted snobbery? Can’t you just accept what you’ve been given and be glad? It’s not as if you’re oppressing the peasants, is it? In a moment, you see, I’ll be thinking you only want a pleb like me to salve your conscience.”

  “Oh God. No. Please!” He jumped off the bed and was with her in a moment. Holding her, kissing her hair. “Ignore me, Keira,” he breathed. “I’m just feeling…tired.”

  “I’ll wake you up.”

  “Hmmm.” He nuzzled her hair, wanting to cry out what he felt. Knowing he couldn’t.

  “Hold on a moment, Tom. I thought you were opposed to exploiting the facilities of the hall for your own pleasure?”

  “I’m a hypocritical bugger, you know that. Now, let’s see exactly what you have on under this dress.” He took her hand and led her to the bed. “Come here.”

  Tom knelt on the cover, helping Keira to do the same.

  Face-to-face with her, he slipped a finger inside the cleavage of her dress and pulled it back. Goose bumps rose in the cleft between her breasts.

  She closed her eyes and parted her lips.

  Tom wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked, but desire had snatched his voice clean away. He took her face in his hands as delicately as he could and pressed his lips to hers.

  Keira clung to his back, her hands feeling small against the powerful muscles in his shoulders. He flicked his tongue inside her mouth. Her knees slithered a little on the silk bedcover, and he had to hold her upright against him with one strong arm. His fingers slipped inside her bra and gently tweaked a nipple, which responded so quickly, so strongly, it scared her…the sweet pleasure-pain telling how much she wanted him, how desperate she was for his touch.

  A shiver rippled through her as she raised her hands to the stiff cotton of his collar, pulling the silk bowtie free. She set to work on the top buttons of his shirt as his hands slid up her thighs, pulling up the dress above her hips to her waist. His hands reached to cup her bare bottom and pull her against him.

  “Do you know how cold I’ve been with next to nothing on all night?”

  “I appreciate it, I promise you…”

  “How much?”

  “This much,” he said, giving the cheeks of her bottom an overenthusiastic squeeze.

  “Oh!”

  She let out a tiny gasp as he drew the dress slowly up over her body, and she felt the peachy silk tantalising her midriff, breasts, neck and face.

  “You’re so beautiful,” said Tom with a look that left a trail of fire from head to toe. She knew he wanted her, but the expression in his eyes was different tonight. The longing scared her, and she suddenly dreaded if this was the last time they would make love. But Tom hadn’t said or done anything to make her think that. He wasn’t going yet, not for weeks, but he’d been different tonight…distant.

  As he unclasped the front of her bra and released her breasts, Keira let herself open up to the moment. Only this moment; nothing else mattered. Freed from the soft restraint of silk and lace, bared to the cool night air, she felt gloriously wanton. He took the weight of her breasts in both his hands, cradling them in his strong fingers. She arched her back, reveling in the way his lips touched each one with a reverent kiss. His tongue flicked the dark areola, lapping it with tiny wet strokes that made the tips pucker and her sex wet. He suckled her and then blew on each nipple, his breath making them tingle and ache. His hands explored her naked back, leaving imprints of heat everywhere they came to rest.

  Her new lace thong was next to be dispatched. Hooking his thumbs inside the waistband, he tugged it over her thighs and down to her knees, pulling her against him so her breasts flattened against the cotton of his dress shirt. His fingers found their way between her legs and slipped inside her. Oh… She tensed her thighs and buttocks, wanting, needing the restraining lace to be pulled away so she could open her legs wide to invite him deeper.

  “Please…take it off,” she begged, clutching at the cotton of his shirt with her hands.

  His voice was raw. “Not until you come.”

  That was it. She arched her pelvis against him as he teased her mercilessly and yelped in pleasure as he stroked her. Heard him gasp as her nails dug into his back through his shirt, and he wouldn’t stop tormenting her. Rubbing gently, then firmly, insistent, uncaring that she was in exquisite agony. What he was doing to her, what he could do to her. It had to be wrong, to be boneless, weak as a kitten from one man’s look, a word, a touch.

  “Oh…”

  She whimpered her need, screwed her eyes tight shut as waves of pressure built inside. Already his other hand was against her thigh, between flesh and lace, pulling the tiny string taut. “Please…”

  He didn’t even have to do it. Just the thought of her knickers being ripped off by him was enough. The anticipation of that sharp tug, the soft sting as the lace was torn from her body, was sending her over the edge.

  “Yes…oh Tom… I’m going to…”

  His arms were around her now, lowering her to the bed roughly. She opened her eyes, buzzing on the edge of her climax, trying to hold back as he stripped off his shirt and trousers.

  Then he was above her, whipping her thong down over her knees. She spread her legs wide, greedy to have him deep inside her. Heat suffused through her limbs as she felt the heavy, masculine weight of him between her thighs.

  His hard length probed the entrance of her.

  “Look at me,” he demanded, forcing her eyes to lock with his. “I want to see you come.” The intensity of desire in his eyes scorched her with its heat, and her last thought as he thrust into her was this: how had she ever come to want someone this much? Tom drew himself out and thrust again, taking her with him to wherever he wanted to lead. She was gone, then, clenching around him and beyond all help.

  It was a few minutes later that she realised. She knew what had happened as soon as he’d rolled from her body, even as she lay, still sheltered with his arms around her, feeling as if nothing could ever touch her.

  “Tom.”

  “Hmm.” He pulled her tighter, crushing her breasts against his chest in an embrace she never wanted to break but had to. His breath was warm on her neck.

  “I need to go to the bathroom. There’s something we forgot.”

  His arms tightened, and she held her breath, waiting for his response. It was a movement, not a word. A slackening of his embrace, then a groan. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I am so sorry, Keira.”

  There was blame to be laid on both sides, Keira knew that. They had simply been in such a hurry, in such an urgent, clutching need for each other, it had overwhelmed all common sense. She sensed his need for a piece of solid ground to stand on. “Don’t worry about it. It’s safe.”

  “But…we didn’t use a condom. I’m a doctor. There’s no excuse.”

  “Tom, it’ll be okay. It’s the wrong time. The right time. You know what I mean.”

  She held her breath, waiting for him to suggest…what she ought to be suggesting herself, emergency contraception. He was a doctor, he was leaving, neither of them was in any position to start a long-term relationship. It would be irresponsible of him not to suggest it.

  “Do you want to talk about this?” he asked, stroking her hair.


  “Not really, no. I know I should be able to talk to you because of what you do.”

  “Yes, you should.”

  “But that kind of makes it worse, don’t you see? More embarrassing. I don’t want to go into the details, but I’m sure it will be okay. In fact, I’m certain. And if you really want me to, I can make sure.”

  He rolled away from her and lay looking at the ceiling. After a few moments, he let out a sigh and kissed the tip of her nose. His words were measured and soft. “Let’s talk about it later. If you say it’s fine, it’s fine.”

  “I guess so,” she murmured. Minutes later, feeling ridiculously low, she slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

  Hearing the latch click, Tom pushed himself up in bed. He lay back against the pillows and ran his hand through his hair, groaning inwardly. Across the room, he saw himself reflected in the ornate mirror over the dressing table. He saw a man who looked older than thirty-four years. Older and definitely not wiser. It was his fault they hadn’t taken precautions, but it seemed like they’d been lucky. Yet it was still so risky… What should he do?

  The creak of the bathroom door lifting roused him. “Come here. Please,” he said, pulling back the cover. Should he suggest she take a morning-after pill? He felt a jag of guilt at her pale face as she padded across to bed.

  His hand closed around hers and drew her towards the cooling sheets. “Just let’s hold each other,” he murmured, dragging the duvet over them to shut out the night air.

  Keira was glad that Tom asked for breakfast in bed at the hall so they didn’t have to face Charlie and Gareth. He needn’t have bothered. When the two of them came downstairs, they found the two men had gone out first thing to open the local Christmas fair.

  Back at the Lodge, Tom tried to get her to stay for the rest of the day. He used his little-boy voice, the one she knew shouldn’t have the effect not only on her body but her brain too. It was pathetic yet irresistible, like being tempted by a triple scoop of double choc ice cream when you really shouldn’t have one.