by K T Bowes
Rohan sighed. “I listen, dorogaya. I’ll try harder at the husband thing, I promise; I’ll do better from now on.”
When Emma yawned again, Rohan ordered her to bed and walked her up the wide staircase. “Just lay down,” he said, kissing her cheek. “Christopher hasn’t texted for a while and I need to see how he’s getting on.”
“What’s he doing?” Emma asked and Rohan pressed his lips over hers.
“Sshh, devotchka. Let me take care of things and prove I can be trusted.”
Emma nodded and laid her head on the pillow, expecting sleep to allude her. She woke up three hours later, groggy and disoriented, nursing a monster headache. “Ugh!” she exclaimed, wiping saliva from her cheek and sitting. The fire burned low in the grate and the room was darkened by the thick curtains which Rohan must have pulled across the windows. “There was nothing refreshing about that nap!” Emma complained, stumbling to the bathroom to wash her face. “Daytime sleeping sucks!”
A glance at the bedroom clock made her eyes widen in horror. “No! Ray Barker’s due now!” She slapped her cheeks and ran wet hands through unruly curls before running down the stairs.
“Steady on!” Rohan caught her on the last step as Emma tripped in her hurry, landing in his strong arms. He used the opportunity to kiss her, his lips cold from outside.
“I’m meant to be meeting someone,” Emma gushed and Rohan’s eyes narrowed.
“Should I be worried, devotchka?”
“My new gardener’s due here at one o’clock to take a look around,” Emma said, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand.
“Ah.” Rohan did the infuriating uplift of the head and made no other comment, leading Emma by the hand into the reception hall. He enfolded her in his arms and kissed her neck. “Be quick,” he said. “I’ve something to show you.” The lilting Russian accent sounded sultry, muffled by Emma’s hair and she turned her face to nip the soft skin at the edge of Rohan’s shirt collar. He moaned and pulled her into him.
The sound of the gate intercom made them both jump and Emma gave a nervous laugh. She broke free from her husband’s muscular arms and skittered over to the box near the front door.
“Ray Barker to see the lady of the house,” her new gardener said, his voice sounding crackly and disjointed in the cavernous hallway.
Emma giggled and pressed the button. “Come on up, Ray.” She turned to Rohan biting her lip. “He called me the lady of the house,” she said with a smile.
Rohan shook his head. “Well, you are, koroleva.”
“Queen?” Emma said, biting her lip and simpering. “Your queen?”
“Da,” Rohan replied slowly. “Always, Em.”
Emma opened the door to greet Ray Barker with a regal smile. He made no comment on her dress sense, the baggy track pants and scruffy sweatshirt adorned by a slinky nightdress which had worked its way out of the back and hung past her knees. “Hi, miss,” he said with a smile, entering the wide front door and shaking her small hand in his huge paw. “Wow, this is some place you’ve got here.”
“Thank you,” Emma replied graciously. “We’re part way through renovating but it’s a long job. And call me Emma, please.”
“I’m sure it’s been a labour of love, miss.” Ray said, looking around him. Feeling Rohan’s eyes on the back of his neck, Ray turned and his face paled, his eyes widening as his lips parted. Emma saw him gulp as a dark look crossed his face and he took a moment to collect himself at the sight of the big Russian. “Captain Andreyev!” he said, his voice wavering.
Emma looked from one to the other, her expression showing surprise. Ray’s colour looked deathly, but Rohan was as composed as always, nodding once to the stricken man. “Mr Barker,” Rohan said.
Ray Barker floundered and Emma reached for him in concern, catching hold of his forearm. “Would you like to come to the kitchen for a hot drink?” she asked, widening her eyes at Rohan in question.
“Yes. Yes please, miss,” the man answered, allowing himself to be led along the corridor to the kitchen.
Ray sat at the table, his face ashen and his giant hands shaking. He remained silent as Emma brewed strong tea and lay mugs and a milk jug on the table. “Sugar?” she asked and Ray nodded and muttered an unintelligible reply. He glanced at the kitchen door a number of times but Rohan didn’t follow.
Emma sat next to him and poured tea into a mug. She pushed it towards him and he nodded his thanks. “Rohan’s my husband,” Emma said softly. “I didn’t mention his name because I had no reason to think you might know him. I’m sorry you’re upset.” She gulped, knowing it would be impossible for Ray to work in the grounds if he suffered such a negative reaction to Rohan’s presence. Curiosity burned in her breast but she suppressed it, needing to ask her husband for the truth first.
“It’s fine.” Ray reached for the milk jug and slopped the white liquid in the mug and down the sides to pool on the table. Emma waved away his apology and fetched a cloth, mopping at the mess with the calm skill of a mother used to frequent disasters.
“How many sugars?” she asked, loading the spoon and sparing Ray the embarrassment of adding granules to the damp table.
“Four, please,” he said, oblivious to Emma’s surprised blink.
She loaded them in and left the spoon for him to stir the sweet mixture, sipping at her own drink and waiting for him to calm. “I understand if you’re not interested in the job anymore,” she ventured, her voice sad. Ray referred to Rohan by his army rank and Emma recognised her impotence against army issues.
“I do want to work here,” Ray stuttered. “It was just a shock seeing Captain Andreyev standing there. I haven’t seen him since...” His voice shook and he took a fortifying gulp of the hot mixture, spluttering as it hit the back of his throat. Emma reached for the box of tissues in the centre of the table and slid it towards him. Ray snatched two and pressed them to his lips. “So much for making a good impression,” he sighed.
Emma noticed the neat shirt and smart suit trousers and compassion flooded her heart. It touched her that he wanted to work for her badly enough to show up for a gardener’s job in neat clothes. She cast her mind back to the meeting in the cafe and saw then the effort he’d made, overlooked by her as she fumbled through the foreign process of engaging employees. She reached out and put her slender fingers over his, surprised when he clasped them in his giant hand. “You have no idea how desperate I am for this job,” Ray said, his voice wavering. “Now I’ve messed it up.” He removed his hand from Emma’s, pressing his fingers either side of the bridge of his nose.
“You haven’t,” Emma reassured him. “But I don’t know how to fix this.”
“You don’t have to.” Ray rubbed his palm across his entire face and stood. “I’ve nothing against your husband, miss. It was just a shock.” He straightened the patterned tie at his neck and took a deep breath.
Emma stood also, horrified to notice her nightdress trailing on the seat. She bit her lips, her eyes wide. “Oh. Talking of good impressions!” She snorted and attempted to stuff the fabric into her pants, giving herself a tyre around the middle. “I’m so sorry.”
Ray smiled for the first time. “It’s fine, miss.”
“You’re not going to call me Emma, are you?” she asked, shoving the nightdress further into her pants to create curious wedges in front of her thighs.
Ray shook his head. “Just don’t feel right, miss.”
Emma shrugged. “Fair enough,” she said, wincing as the silky fabric worked its way down to her knees. “Why don’t we go for a wander around the property and you can take a look at what needs doing?”
Chapter 35
“I see why you need help.” Ray stood at the end of the rutted track and surveyed the vast estate. A cool breeze attacked the lapels of his hurriedly donned suit jacket. “How much land is there?”
“Lots.” Emma’s hair blew back from her face, flapping behind her like a dark flag. The escaping nightdress obeyed the tug of the breeze
and Emma pressed her hands against her waist to stop it taking flight. “I can check exact number of hectares on the deeds when we get back.”
“No matter,” Ray said. “As long as you have a plan for it.”
Emma shrugged. “I’m open to suggestions,” she replied, sounding hopeful. “The adjoining farms lease some of it for grazing but that was an arrangement Anton honoured. I haven’t seen any money for it yet so I’m not sure what’s going on there.”
“Anton?” Ray asked, his words thrown around by the wind.
“My stepbrother,” Emma said, sadness cloaking her with its dark kiss. “He died and left me the house and land.”
“Lucky,” Ray muttered and Emma nodded, not offended.
“Very,” she replied. She turned to face him, stunning with her pink cheeks and dishevelled hair. “I know what it’s like to have nothing, Ray,” she said and he studied her, his gaze one of assessment.
Finally he nodded. “Yes, miss. I think you probably do.”
“Will you work for me, please?” Emma asked, shivering in the icy air.
Ray nodded. “Love to, miss.”
Emma sighed with relief as they climbed back into her car and made the bumpy journey to the sprawling house nestled in the valley. “I’m glad,” she said, clumping her foot on the brake to avoid a rut. “I need help to formulate a plan for the land as well as the house; it’s overwhelming when I’m awake at night worrying. You’ll spend lots of time on the phone talking to the heritage people from the council and they’ll be partly helpful and partly obstructive. Will you be ok with that?”
Ray nodded and smiled sideways. “Can I ask about your marriage to Captain Andreyev?” he asked. “You can refuse to answer.”
“I’m happy to talk about it,” Emma said, negotiating an open gateway. “Rohan’s my stepbrother and we grew up together. We fell in love and married without his mother’s knowledge when I was sixteen. He went to Afghanistan and I discovered I was pregnant with our son. There were reasons I needed to leave home for my own safety and Anton made me promise not to see Ro again or tell him about Nicky. He told Rohan on his death bed to find me but he didn’t know about Nicky until we met again at the end of last year.”
“Oh.” Ray’s silence made Emma glance sideways at him. “It sounds like a novel,” he said eventually, flicking at a speck of mud on his trousers. “Like one of those sad love stories. You called him your ex-husband at the cafe. Is there any likelihood of you both finding what you lost before it’s too late?”
Emma bit her lip and swallowed. “We already have,” she said, struggling to answer such a personal question from a comparative stranger. “It’s just proving harder to translate that into real life after such a long time apart.” Emma felt tears prick behind her eyes. “Things get in the way and we’re not teenagers anymore.”
“Sorry,” Ray said. “You didn’t have to be so honest, but I appreciate it. I’ve got nothing but respect for Captain Andreyev after what happened. I’d love to think he was happy.”
Emma slammed on the brakes and the car skidded to a halt. “I thought you hated Rohan!” Emma exclaimed, her fingers clenched around the steering wheel.
Ray’s jaw dropped as he turned to face her. “No! Absolutely not! Your husband was my son’s commanding officer on their last tour in Afghanistan. They were injured in the same blast and Captain Andreyev pulled Hugh to safety.” Ray ran a shaking hand over his face and Emma waited, holding her breath as a hidden window opened into Rohan’s life. “Hugh died at a military hospital but at least your husband tried to give him a chance. He didn’t leave him there for the bastards to finish off. The captain was messed up so bad himself, it’s a miracle he dragged him as far as he did. It’s why they gave him the Conspicuous Gallantry Medal and he deserved it. Only five of them made it home and most of them banged up like your husband.”
“I didn’t know.” Emma fixed her eyes on the roof of Wingate Hall in the distance, tracing the apex angles and seeing smoke winding skywards from the chimney stack above her bedroom. “Rohan won’t talk about it.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a bloody hero.” Ray sniffed and Emma kept her eyes averted to give him dignity. “He spoke at Hugh’s funeral. They wheeled him in but he insisted on standing to give the eulogy. Miss, he looked so sick and bashed up, but he stood there and said his piece. He knew my boy, right down to Hugh’s dry sense of humour. The words he spoke in Russian sounded real special and it touched us; my wife and me. He said it was from a song his father taught him.” Ray stared into the distance, his voice trailing off as he contemplated his tragic memories.
Emma bit her lip, knowing the other reason Rohan looked sick. He returned home, injured and desperate for comfort, arriving to hear the lies of his mother and Emma’s conspicuous absence. “Rohan was blown up the day I gave birth to Nicky,” Emma said, a catch in her voice. “We were both hurting, neither knowing what the other was going through right at that moment. It’s Nicky’s birthday in September and he’ll be seven. It’ll be a strange day for both of us.” She wrinkled her nose. “Nicky won’t have a clue. He’s asked for a party; he’s never had one before.”
“But you’ll make it work now?” Ray pressed. “You and the Captain?” Emma nodded.
“We’ll certainly try.” Emma pushed the vehicle on and rode the last hundred metres back to the main driveway, hating the jarring trip across a cattle grid. “I heard somewhere, maybe from Paul,” she said, “you’re sleeping on his sofa.”
Ray nodded, his cheeks flushing with shame. He lowered his eyes and wrung his hands together. “Yeah. Council doesn’t really care about a single man with no job and places round here are too expensive for someone on unemployment benefit. There’s no council houses spare but I’m on the waiting list for a flat.”
“You mentioned your wife,” Emma began. “It’s just...”
“Died,” Ray interrupted. “Five years ago. Hugh’s death broke something in her and she gave up on life. She’d had cancer before, but it came back and this time she didn’t bother fighting. She suffered from depression our whole marriage; I often thought it was my fault.” He glanced at Emma, his eyes red-rimmed with grief. “Sorry,” he said. “What were you gonna say?”
“The job comes with accommodation,” Emma said. “The coach house might be too big for one person, but take a look at the other apartments. There’re three more above the stables and four on the top floor of the main house. Have a think about it and come back tomorrow. I’ve something else to sort out this afternoon, but I’m happy to negotiate wages and living arrangements then. Your salary can start from today; I just need Ro to help me sort the documentation out.”
Ray bit his lip as Emma pulled the car up behind Rohan’s Mercedes. She turned the engine off and pushed the driver’s door open, her eyes widening as Ray grabbed her forearm. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispered, emotion crumpling his face like putty.
Emma smiled in sympathy, her brown eyes soft as she patted his hand. “Ray, I wake up every morning and look around me feeling exactly the same way.” Her gaze strayed to the enormous house filled with history and untold stories and Emma sighed. “You know, I think you and I will work well together. We both know extreme hardship and won’t take anything for granted.” She held out her hand, her face serious. “Welcome to Wingate Hall. You’re our first employee, so I guess that makes you my manager.”
Ray grinned and the years dropped away from his face. “Thanks, miss,” he said. “I won’t let you down.”
Chapter 36
Emma stood on the front steps and smiled at her new employee. “Bring your gear tomorrow lunchtime and put it wherever you choose,” she said. “I’ll be home from work by then. You’ll need keys and codes for the gate and burglar alarm and after that, you can come and go as you please. My son found an equipment shed the other day but I’ve no idea what’s in it. We’ll check after you’ve settled in; maybe there’s something salvageable.”
Ray nodded, still looking overwhelme
d. “Thanks, miss. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Emma pushed the front door open, disappearing inside and cursing the flapping nightdress which leaked over the back of her track pants. “Bloody thing!” she hissed, an embarrassed flush creeping across her cheeks. “I bet he noticed and didn’t mention it.”
“Em!” Rohan limped towards her, his face filled with excitement. “Come and look at this.” He seized her hand and pulled her along the corridor towards the kitchen.
Emma gripped the flapping material and ran to keep up. “Where’s the fire?” she grumbled.
“In our bedroom,” Rohan replied, his face serious. “I got it lit again, but the surprise isn’t up there; it’s in here.” He stood outside the kitchen door, excitement lighting his blue eyes like rare diamonds. “Close your eyes.”
Emma felt his large palm covering her sight and wriggled in annoyance. “Rohan, stop!” she protested.
“Shh,” he insisted, pinching her bottom as he pressed her forward into the room.
Emma flapped at Rohan’s impertinent hand, indignant at his distraction technique. She jerked her head and blinked in the light of the kitchen, seeing Christopher’s lithe shape standing by the table. “Hey, Em,” he said, sounding pleased with himself.
“What’s so important?” Emma whined. “It better be good.” Her gaze drifted to the table, searching for the plaque and not finding it. “Where’s it gone?” she panicked, raking first Christopher’s face and then Rohan’s. “Where’s the plaque?”
“I told ya she’d flip!” Christopher said with satisfaction. “Ya should’ve shown her afterwards.”
“Shown me what? Rohan, that plaque cost you twelve thousand pounds; where is it?” Emma fanned her face with her hand and staggered to a chair. “I feel sick,” she gasped.
“It’s in the oven,” Christopher informed her and Emma stared at him.
“What?” she snapped, convinced she heard wrong.