Third Time Lucky

by Croft, Pippa

  ‘Ow!’ He winces and I pull back.

  ‘God, I’m sorry!’

  His grimace of pain turns into a sort of smile. ‘It’s OK. This arm is a pain in the arse.’

  ‘I knew we shouldn’t have done that. I forgot about the wound.’ I’m standing up now, away from the bed.

  He snatches my hand in his. ‘Sit down and shut up. I don’t want to be treated like glass.’

  ‘You should be careful, just for a little while at least.’

  ‘I can be careful when I’m dead, and I won’t let something like this stop me from doing what I want. Now come back here or I’ll call the nurse and tell her you’ve been treating me with unnecessary cruelty.’

  ‘What? You … You’re the one who …’

  He curls his finger. ‘Come here, Ms Cusack, before I scream for help.’

  I laugh. ‘I’d like to see that.’

  He opens his mouth wide as if to shout.

  I fold my arms. ‘Do I look scared?’

  ‘Help, Lauren won’t give me what I need.’ His voice ramps up a notch. ‘She’s abusing a war hero!’

  ‘Alexander! Shhhh.’

  ‘Not until you kiss me again,’ he taunts, making me want to hit him and leap on him. I glance at the window, half expecting to see a face peering in at us with a disapproving frown.

  ‘Well?’

  I put my finger on his lips. ‘Only if you behave.’

  He opens his lips and tilts his head forward a little, drawing my finger into his mouth. I keep it there as he circles my fingertip with his tongue. His lips are hot and tight around my finger as he sucks it in deeper. He closes his eyes and I close mine, blocking out reality, just enjoying the sensation of his tongue making gentle circles around my finger.

  I sigh in delight as he runs his tongue from base to tip, licking my finger as if it’s a Popsicle. The pressure of his mouth around my flesh forces me to press my thighs together to try and assuage the ache between them. After a few delicate flicks of his tongue, he opens his mouth, releases me and lowers my hand to the sheet. What he’s doing appears innocent yet is every bit as erotic as if I were lying naked with him above me.

  My finger glistens with moisture in the sunlight.

  ‘That’s how it feels,’ he says, his voice low and gravelly, ‘to be inside you. So tight, so wet. I want that right now.’

  ‘The nurses might have something to say about that.’ I’m still coming down from the sensation and, quite frankly, struggling to breathe.

  ‘Possibly, but if they weren’t here, do you know what I’d make you do?’

  Even the question sends a bolt of lust right through me. ‘No, but I’ve a feeling you’re going to tell me.’

  ‘And I’ve a feeling you’re desperate to know, aren’t you?’

  The way he has me squirming in front of him, I can hardly deny it.

  ‘Aren’t you, Lauren?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘If I thought no one would walk in, I’d make you take off that top right now and show me your amazing breasts.’ He gives me a smile so hot it could strip paint at a hundred yards. ‘And I know you’re not wearing a bra today because I can tell.’

  On cue, my nipples stand to attention under the cotton of my top.

  He tuts. ‘Bad girl, Ms Cusack.’

  ‘I thought you deserved a treat after what you’ve been through. Now I’m not so sure.’

  ‘I do deserve a treat, I’ve had a traumatic time. Do you want to know what I’d make you do next?’

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to say ‘no’ and walk out but I’m enjoying the teasing way too much. ‘Get it off your chest if you really need to,’ I say, while my body thrums with desire.

  ‘I’d lie here and watch while you shimmied out of that mini skirt and stood in front of me in your thigh-highs.’

  ‘How do you know I’m wearing thigh-highs today? You can’t possibly tell for certain from there.’

  ‘Because you always wear them with that mini and you know how much I love them.’

  ‘That was before.’ I can’t resist reminding him – and myself – that the reasons for our break-up remain unresolved, no matter what has happened since.

  ‘And this is now and you’re here. Don’t try and change the subject. You are wearing thigh-highs, aren’t you, Lauren?

  ‘Yes, damn you, of course I am.’

  He sighs in satisfaction. ‘I knew it. So, after you’d taken your skirt down, I’d watch while you pulled down your rather lovely Victoria’s Secret knickers right in front of my face.’ He grins. ‘Very, very slowly.’

  I’m almost panting. I’m definitely trembling. ‘I’m in La Perla today …’ I murmur, nudging my bottom a little further on to the bed until it’s butting against his thigh.

  ‘Knickers wet, are they?’ he says, his eyes burning into me. ‘I hope so, because I’d love to lie back and savour the sight of you with them around your ankles and imagine how wet and ripe for me you are.’

  Now I really can hardly breathe. All I can do is keep my eyes on his, and eventually I manage to whisper,‘You are a disgrace to your uniform …’

  ‘And you’re as sexy and ready for me as ever.’

  I glance down to find my hand pressed against the front of my skirt and pull it away.

  He tuts again and says, ‘Nice to see you feel the same way as I do. Go on, look what you’ve done to me.’ He rests his hand over the bulge in the sheet around his thighs.

  ‘What? I daren’t.’

  ‘There’s no one watching. Touch me.’

  After a quick check of the window to make certain no one’s watching, I slide my hand under the cover and down the front of the boxer shorts he’s wearing. He’s hard and hot and it feels amazing to have his firm, silky flesh under my fingers again.

  He closes his eyes as I cup him in my hand.

  ‘Alexander, we can’t do this in here.’

  He opens his eyes. ‘You have to. I’ve dreamed about this for almost two weeks.’

  I stifle a giggle that’s a combination of amusement, lust and nerves.

  ‘This is therapy. Don’t stop now you’ve started.’

  His pleading voice is so sexy that I can’t resist. ‘Please,’ I add.

  ‘Please, Ms Cusack, I’m desperate.’

  ‘That’s better.’ I circle him with my fingers and slide them up and down. He arches his pelvis and moans. ‘That is so good. I’d forgotten how amazing you are. Oh fuck …’

  I’m not sure if it’s a sixth sense or my hyper-awareness of any sound or just good luck, but I snatch my hand out of his shorts and from under the bedclothes just as the door starts to open.

  By the time the nurse backs into the room, pulling a drugs trolley, I’m fumbling in my handbag and Alexander is lying back on the pillow looking like the sky has fallen in on him.

  The nurse swivels the trolley round and tosses us a smile. ‘Everything all right? I’ve come to give Captain Hunt his medication.’

  I stand up, my fingers burning, and I know I must look as guilty as sin. ‘Yes, fine. I was about to leave.’

  ‘There’s no need. You can stay if you like.’

  My face is on fire.

  ‘No, it’s fine. I need to get back to Emma. I’ll come back tomorrow.’

  She smiles at Alexander. ‘So Captain Hunt, how are we feeling today?’

  He sighs. ‘I was feeling much better but now I’m a little deflated, to be honest. Maybe the shock of the stabbing is beginning to hit me.’

  Behind the nurse’s back, I mouth: ‘You are unbelievable,’ before scurrying to the safety of the hospital corridor. For all the embarrassment of nearly being caught in a compromising position with Alexander, I feel massive relief that he’s back to his wicked maddening ways. Now all I have to do is sort out the mess between us – if I decide I even want to.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A few days later, Alexander’s smile has evaporated as Brandon drives the two of us back to Falconbury House. I’m surprised
that he’s been let out so soon, but he’s made excellent progress, according to his doctors, and I also suspect he’s badgered them into releasing him at the earliest possible opportunity.

  I also know that the military have called in to debrief him further. In fact, I saw them walking out of his room when I arrived. He didn’t seem unduly bothered by their visit, but you can never tell with Alexander. The doctors have told him he won’t be able to use his arm as he’d like to for quite some time, but if he keeps up an intensive physio programme, he should eventually make a full recovery. But he won’t be back on active service for some time. It could be a slow and frustrating process for him.

  Alexander’s left arm is still strapped up and supported with a black sling, although he’s managed to get a shirt on and has a jacket draped around his shoulders. He has a treatment plan from the physio to carry out at home and will also have to attend sessions at a military rehab centre, as well as follow-up appointments over the next few weeks at the hospital.

  On a normal day, Alexander is hardly chatty, and he’s becoming more morose the nearer we get to Falconbury House. By the time we reach the entrance to the park, he’s as silent as the stone pillars that mark the gateway. Every time I risk a glance at him, his face is turned out towards the window. I’m not sure what’s occupying his mind more, concern about his responsibilities at Falconbury or worries about when – and if – he will ever return to active service. I know what’s been occupying mine, ofcourse: the unresolved issues that led to our row last term; will they come to a head again now he’s out of danger?

  The last time I was here was for his father’s funeral, on a bleak January day. The trees were bare spiky branches then; now they are cloaked in fresh green leaves. Clusters of yellow primroses are bursting out at the edge of the drive that leads to the house and deer graze in the open parkland at the edge of the woods. Finally the mansion itself comes into view. I also remember the other times I’ve been here before: happy fun times when we’ve ridden and walked the estate together, had glorious sex … and the times when we’ve been at loggerheads. Today, the bright spring sun renders the neo-Gothic facade a little less imposing, as do the hyacinths blooming in the stone troughs that flank the steps to the porch.

  ‘I haven’t seen those before. They look so pretty,’ I say in an effort to lighten the atmosphere.

  ‘What?’ He drags his attention away from the car window. ‘Sorry, I didn’t hear you.’

  ‘I said the flowers look beautiful. Your gardeners have been busy.’

  Brandon stops the car in front of the steps.

  ‘Oh, yes. They must have come out in the past couple of weeks. I don’t remember them from when I left but I had other things on my mind.’

  Normally, either Brandon opens my door first or Alexander insists on doing it if I’m not quick, but Brandon obviously thinks his boss needs the help today. He does, but ouch, despite the ultra polite ‘thank you’, anyone would think Brandon had given him a poke in the eye.

  ‘Do you want me to get the bags, sir?’ Brandon asks.

  ‘I think it would be a great idea. Thanks so much, Brandon,’ I cut in before Alexander can even try to refuse his offer, as I know he would.

  Brandon brightens visibly. ‘Of course, Miss Cusack.’ Then he’s off, popping the trunk and hauling out our bags.

  With his arm in the sling, Alexander’s obviously struggling to clamber out and I know he won’t accept help. I take my time unbuckling my own seat belt and make a meal of checking I have my handbag so that by the time I’m out of the car, Alexander has managed to unpop his belt buckle and shuffle out without banging his head. I actually had to buckle the seat belt up for him before we left the hospital, which earned me an icy thanks. I guess he’s already realized that fastening his seat belt is just one of a dozen things he’s going to need help with until he can use his arm again.

  ‘I could have managed the bags,’ he mutters.

  ‘Bullshit,’ I say pleasantly. ‘Make life difficult for yourself if you want to, but don’t make the staff’s work any tougher. They already have to put up with you as it is.’

  He glares down at me but makes no further objections.

  ‘Let me give you a hand,’ I call to Brandon as he returns from the front door for another set of bags. However, I’m cut off by Robert almost tripping down the steps in his haste to help.

  ‘How are you, sir? It’s good to have you back.’

  ‘Thanks, Robert.’ Alexander does manage a genuine smile for his butler. ‘Has everything been all right while I’ve been away?’

  ‘Perfectly, sir. There are a few letters for you, but I’ve left them on the desk in your study. If you need assistance in opening them, or with anything else, please call me.’

  ‘Thanks, I will.’

  Our voices are drowned out by barking that echoes around the forecourt. A ball of black fur shoots out of the front door, leaps off the steps and launches itself at Alexander, almost knocking him sideways. Barking ecstatically, Alexander’s Labrador, Benny, nudges his thighs, sniffs his legs, licks his free hand and for once ignores every command to ‘settle down’. Finally, Benny drops on to the gravel, rolls over and presents his belly for attention.

  ‘Ridiculous dog.’ Alexander’s tone is stern, but as he rubs the dog’s stomach, I see a glimmer of pleasure on his face – mixed with relief. No matter what Alexander says about the burden of being responsible for Falconbury since his father’s death, part of him must be genuinely happy to be home.

  ‘That’ll do,’ he says gruffly as Benny snickers with ecstasy. ‘Up you get, boy.’

  He straightens up and Benny turns to me, licking my hand and panting.

  I rub his ears. ‘Good boy, we’ve missed you.’

  The trunk of the car thuds down and Brandon gets behind the wheel again to drive round to the garages behind the house. ‘Better go and get this over with,’ says Alexander quietly. I know he is dreading the fuss that will ensue when he meets the rest of staff.

  I take his free hand. ‘Come on, step up to the plate and if you’re a good boy and behave, I may give you a treat later.’

  He shakes his head at me. ‘I’m not Benny.’

  ‘No, and that’s a shame. He does as he’s told. Come on.’

  Emma is already at the house when we arrive, having been collected by Brandon earlier today, and has her friend and one-time partner-in-crime Allegra staying over for company. As we walk into the hallway, she trots downstairs, while Allegra hovers awkwardly. They’re both wearing jodhpurs and riding boots.

  ‘Alex!’

  Emma flings her arms around Alexander, who just about manages not to flinch in pain as she gives him a bear hug. She steps back. ‘Oh God, have I hurt you?’

  ‘Not much.’ He grins, or possibly grimaces.

  She puts her hand over her mouth. ‘Ouch. Sorry. Well, at least your face looks slightly less like Frankenstein’s.’

  ‘I think you mean his monster’s,’ Alexander replies tartly.

  ‘Him too, but it’s great to have you home. You won’t believe me but I’ve missed you.’

  ‘You’re right, I don’t believe you.’

  Emma laughs. ‘That’s more like the infuriating brother I know and love.’ She suddenly looks sheepish. ‘Thanks for inviting Allegra to keep me company.’

  ‘Did I? Hello, Allegra,’ he says meaningfully.

  Allegra acted as alibi for Emma last term, during her secret meetings with Henry Favell. Despite Alexander’s greeting, she seems completely in awe of him.

  ‘Hi,’ she mutters.

  ‘Allegra and I were just going out for a ride,’ Emma says, as Allegra attempts to shrink into the background. ‘Welcome home, Alex.’

  ‘Enjoy yourselves,’ I say.

  ‘Be careful,’ Alexander warns.

  Emma rolls her eyes at him. ‘Of course we will! See you both later. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

  As she and Allegra scurry off down the corridor that leads to th
e stables, Alexander mutters. ‘That leaves us plenty of scope, then.’

  Before I can reply, Helen walks briskly up to us. ‘Your room’s ready when you are, sir. Yours too, Lauren.’

  Alexander kisses her on the cheek. ‘Thanks, Helen, you’ve been brilliant.’

  ‘Do you want dinner served in the dining room or in the sitting room this evening? Emma and her friend have decided to have a takeaway so it’s only the two of you.’

  ‘The sitting room will be fine,’ says Alexander, who hates the formality of the dining room since his father died and would far rather eat off a tray. Not that he may be able to manage that at the moment.

  ‘I’ll serve at seven, if that’s OK. Shall I have some tea sent to the library in the meantime?’ Helen asks.

  ‘Can you give us a little while, please?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Upstairs, I push open the heavy oak door to Alexander’s room and the moment we’re through it he says, ‘Lauren? What have you done to Helen to persuade her to use your first name?’

  I sit on the bed. ‘Oh, I don’t know … Asked nicely?’

  ‘That can’t be enough.’

  ‘It’s just not my style to be treated like I’m lady of the manor, and especially not when Helen has done so much to help me when you were in hospital. Before you ask, I won’t expect her to do the same with you. That would be too difficult for her.’

  He shakes his head at me. ‘Perhaps it’s time a few things were changed around here. I’ve been too busy dealing with the aftermath of Dad’s death and the estate to even think about the future, but it looks like I’m going to have to now.’

  I pick at the quilt. ‘Maybe we should sort out a few things from the past first.’

  ‘You’re probably right, but there’s something I need even more. That we both need.’

  I look at him; really look at him for the first time since he got out of his hospital bed and arrived back home. With his arm in the black sling and the jacket draped around his shoulders, he has a sombre, formal air that ought to inspire my pity but, frankly, is conjuring up altogether different sensations in me. His hair is tousled because he can’t comb it properly and his insistence on shaving himself has left traces of stubble on his jaw and the odd nick. He looks tired, leaner and on edge but somehow more gorgeous than ever.