White Knight (The Callaghan Green Series Book 2)

by Annie Dyer

  His words were quiet; he muttered endearments and compliments as he moved inside me, each thrust building another tsunami of pleasure deep inside me.

  “I’m going to come again,” I told him, barely able to get the words out.

  He chuckled, thrusting a little harder. “I’ll be right behind you. Ladies first.”

  I grinned and then felt the clench of an orgasm as it erupted, my pussy walls squeezing his cock tighter and tighter. I heard his name on my lips and then mine on his as his last few thrusts were harder and shorter as his own release came.

  We collapsed, him half on top on me, his arms pulling me close. “Tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

  “You didn’t hurt me. My stitches are still in and the only thing throbbing is between my legs,” I said.

  “Good,” he said. “My work is done for now. I’ll consider what the payment will be.”

  I smacked him lightly. “Payment? You got your reward at the end there. The evidence of which is dampening your sheets.” I wriggled myself out of his hold and sat up. “I should go clean up.”

  His eyes looked up sleepily. “I’ll go lock up downstairs. I’ll bring you water. Then I want to fall asleep with you in my bed.”

  I nodded. That sounded good to me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Killian

  Things were different between us in the morning. Claire’s mood flitted between being exorbitantly relaxed and preoccupied and I knew the preoccupation had something to do with what she hadn’t told me about why our relationship had ended years before. It wasn’t going to be a game changer. Whatever had occurred was in the past and that was where it would stay. Last night had felt like coming home, like all the pieces of my world had finally been melded together and this was how the order of things should be.

  I knew I loved her. I knew I was in love with her. I thought she felt the same but I would wait for her to be ready to say the words.

  The drive to Tintagel took just over four and half hours, most of it via the motorway. Claire deviated between sleeping and watching the scenery out of the window and casting me quick smiles every now and again. The quietness was easy and not loaded with the need for either of us to speak, which was how I remembered us being. She used words well, both in her job and her personal life and although there were times I knew she didn’t shut up, often when she was bantering with me or with her brothers or gossiping with her sisters and friends, she wasn’t afraid to be silent.

  “We’re nearly there,” I said as we headed down a single-track road.

  “We’re in the middle of nowhere,” she replied, her eyes fixed on the sight of the sea in the distance, blue waves forming white horses at their crests.

  “That’s the idea. No internet or Wi-Fi either.”

  Claire laughed. “Does my family know they won’t be able to get hold of me?”

  “There’s a landline. You’re not completely cut off. And the cafes in Tintagel have Wi-Fi so you can get your social media fix,” I said. I liked the fact we would be almost cut off. It gave both of us chance to decompress and be without the continual interruptions of work. Nick was holding the fort while I would be non-contactable for most of the next few days. He was tucked away at our parents in Ireland; one of the last texts I had received had been a selfie of him, Katie and the twins pulling ridiculous faces, three of the four covered with ice cream, the only clean one being Margot, somehow.

  “This is it,” I said, taking a tight turn onto a narrow drive. Thirty seconds later and we had reached the stone cottage in the middle of green fields that my parents had bought twenty-five years ago.

  It had been an old farm building, an extra four walls and a roof where probably the man who had tended the sheep could live. My father had spent summers fixing the place up so it was to my mother’s standards and it was where I’d learned that being clever wasn’t just about classrooms and tests: it was how you could fix a roof or build a wall too. Nick and I had thrived here, only the place now had needed another tending to, so yet again my mother would visit. New kitchen, new bathrooms, another new roof – it had all been completed a couple of weeks ago and was now a summer home for Nick’s kids and maybe mine in the future too.

  “This is gorgeous,” Claire said, staring at the house with the ivy curving up the front. The sea was close by, just a narrow path down to the sandy beach where the waves wild around. The air tasted of the ocean and the sound of gulls replaced the dull noise of traffic that London sang with.

  “I’m glad you like it. Let me show you inside.”

  It was the first time I’d been since the house was renovated, so some parts were as new to me as they were to her. It was still cosy; a real fire in the lounge, stone floors covered with heavy rugs and a sofa you could lose yourself in. The kitchen had been extended and an Aga added, Velux windows letting more light into the extension and I noticed that my dad had a huge barbeque in the garden.

  “This is amazing,” Claire said, coming back down the stairs. “I wasn’t sure which bedroom to use, so I’ve left my bag on the landing.”

  “We can use whichever you want. Shall we go into the village? It’s a ten-minute walk if you’re up to it and then there are loads of cafes to grab a coffee.”

  She nodded. “I think my invalid status is waning. My head is much better than yesterday. I just hope no one pays much attention to the bruises.”

  The area around the stitches was now every shade of blue. It did look pretty fucking nasty and I’d only just gotten past wanted to maim the guy who had hurt her. “You’re in Tintagel. Everyone here works on a different plane of reality so the chances are no one will notice.”

  We strode into town, keeping the pace slow because I was aware that she had concussion and probably shouldn’t be doing too much. But it had been a fairly long car journey and fresh air was probably what we both needed. Fresh sea air and the healing properties of a place that was, well, different.

  “How many witchery shops?” Claire said as we passed another, this one selling different stones and crystal balls.

  “Seven, I think. Or there might be more. This is where King Arthur was meant to have been conceived so the whole place is based on his legend and Cornish history. Maybe tomorrow we’ll walk around the ruins of the castle.”

  “Or go down to the beach. Have you ever swum in the sea here?”

  I laughed. “Only every summer until I was seventeen. I learned to surf here too.” Her smile broadened and as we passed a pub I gestured to the tables outside. “Time for some cider.”

  She nodded. “Sounds good. Maybe some lunch too.”

  We ordered food and sat in the sunshine, a man with a long beard and longer hair sitting nearby and playing on his guitar, singing folk songs that drew a few more people to take the remaining tables. The atmosphere was light and carefree, the sky clear with no sign of any storms.

  “So, you learned to surf and spent your summers here. I can correctly assume from that you had no issue with capturing the attention of girls who were holidaying?”

  I looked into my pint of cider and tried to find the grace to not look too proud. “There may have been a few.”

  “Killian O’Hara. There would have been more than a few!” she said.

  There had been, but none like her.

  “I lost my virginity in the campsite behind this pub,” I said. “It was with a girl who was camping with her friends for a week. She was twenty.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Sixteen. But she thought I was older. I didn’t tell her otherwise. Didn’t want to make her feel bad.”

  “That’s so noble of you. How did you meet her?”

  “I was surfing and she’d been watching me on the beach.”

  “Can you still surf?” she looked curiously at me.

  “Yeah. I don’t get to do it often, so I’m a bit rusty. Will I get lucky if you see me coming out of the water in my wetsuit?”

  Her smile was broad and dirty. “You’ll have to try it a
nd find out.”

  We spent the evening sat around the fire as the temperature outside grew cool. Outside the sky was full of stars, silence surrounding us but for the crackling of the fire and a hooting owl. In bed, she fell asleep with her head on my chest, exhausted from the sea air and the short walks. We made love slowly again, her riding me, giving me free range to play with her tits and clit. As much as the years and situations had separated us, she was still inexplicably mine and as I came inside her again I understood that I had never really let her go, even if back then I thought I had done, because I’d had too.

  I woke early, the sun’s faint light dripping in through the windows where we hadn’t closed the curtains. We had no neighbours, set far back from the road and a good quarter of a mile from the next house, so we didn’t lack privacy. Claire stirred in my arms and I debated whether I or not I could ever let go of her.

  We’d spoken to her family last night, assuring them she felt okay and we were safe where we were. Marie had chatted about the cases she was overseeing and the other lawyers in the department and then gone through some technical details on Katie’s divorce. I’d been reminded of watching Claire in the law library when we students and she was in discussion with one of her peers. Her face had lit up as she’d debated a certain interpretation then thrown in a precedent. At that moment she’d captivated me with her brightness and enthusiasm and I’d been fucking glad I hadn’t studied law because I couldn’t have competed.

  The temptation to stay in bed with my girl was great, but the blue sky and start of a perfect day called also. There were things that needed to be done to the garden; my parents had been happy to bring contractors in to renovate the cottage, knowing that Nick and I didn’t have the time, but they’d asked us to muck in with the half acre plot and given us free range to put in what we wanted. Nick wanted a play area for the twins, so I’d agreed to start to level out an area of the grass and look at what we needed for the base to put one of those climbing frame and swing monstrosities on it. I wanted a hot tub, especially having seen the ones Claire’s parents had recently installed, but that needed a bit more working out.

  I snuck out from around her, hearing a quiet murmur as she rearranged herself in her sleep. Pulling on old denim shorts and a vest, I headed down to the kitchen and brewed coffee, opening the bi-fold doors in the kitchen and letting the day in. There was no phone to distract me, or email or website queries. It was just me and and the outdoors, and Claire when she was awake. That was it. That was all I needed at this moment in time. Reality could keep its head hidden under a rock.

  An hour later I had sweat running down my back and a spade in my hand. The manual labour was hard but what I needed after months of spending too much time in the gym instead of actually doing what my dad called ‘proper work’.

  “Long-time no see.”

  I looked up from the ground I was trying to level and saw a face I hadn’t seen for probably ten years.

  “You’re quite the man now.”

  “Edward Trelawny! I’ll be damned.” I dropped the spade and went to greet him. He was older and frailer, but his skin was as ruddy as ever and tucked under his arm was the ever-present newspaper.

  “They’ve not put me in the ground yet, boy. Although I’m ninety in a couple of weeks. How long are you here for?”

  He patted me on the back and I swiped him into a bear hug, knowing he wouldn’t be bothered about the sweat and the soil I’d covered myself in. “A week maybe.”

  “Still the same Killian,” he said. “Have your coffee making skills improved?”

  “You’ve not changed either. Still after a freebie all the time,” I said. When Nick and I had been on our own at the cottage as teenagers or even in our twenties, he’d come each day to check on us and, on occasion, reported back to our parents. He’d been our surrogate grandfather and his wife, Elizabeth, a grandmother. She’d died just over twelve years ago, leaving Edward a widower. He’d been steadfast as always, taking things with perspective and talking about the good times he and Elizabeth had enjoyed. They’d travelled, enjoyed seeing their grandchildren and made the most of the all the time they’d had together. And he’d not wanted her to suffer any more. “I’m ready for some breakfast too. Have you eaten yet?”

  He chuckled. “Had my usual oats and cow’s milk at five this morning, but I’ll not say no to a bacon sandwich.” His accent had the soft tones of Cornwall, reminding me of childhood summers, days spent wrapped in sand and sea and eating ice cream.

  “Come on then. Let me wash up and I’m feed you, old man.”

  “You’ve not got a lady back there that’ll be disturbed?”

  I grinned. “She’s called Claire and I’d appreciate her not knowing about my errant youth,” I said, wiping the excess dirt from my hands onto my shorts. My vest had long since been abandoned, half hoping Claire would come searching for me and like what she saw. I wasn’t above peacocking.

  Edward shrugged. “She’ll hear it from someone if you’re here long enough.” He followed me back to the cottage, unsurprised by the renovations that had been carried out. I figured he had probably been over most days, inspecting what was going on and keeping my parents up to date with the odd phone call.

  “Hear what?” Claire stood in the patio area, the barbeque lid up and the faint scent of cooking wafting towards us. “What will I hear?”

  “About Killian’s errant youth,” Edward said, offering her his hand. “I’m Ed. Your closest neighbour. And former overseer of this place when Killian’s parents left him and Nick alone here.”

  “So, you had your hands full then?” She gave him a wide smile and for a moment my eyes were completely stuck on her. She was wearing tiny shorts and a plain blue t-shirt, her hair still mussed from sleep and her face bare. She was beautiful and she was here with me, finally. Unless Edward managed to scare her away.

  “They were good kids. If you’ve any free time, Killian, there’s a slate on the roof that’s slipped. Could do with it fixing and Jerry the Roofer won’t have time. He’s working on the thatched thing near Boscastle.” Edward said, giving me pleading eyes. There would’ve been a time when he’d have fixed it himself but I was glad he was asking now. At nearly ninety, climbing on the roof was probably something he shouldn’t be attempting.

  “I’ll sort it tomorrow,” I said. “Early. You can make us breakfast for a change.”

  We ate sausage and bacon baps and drank coffee and fresh orange juice, the sun starting to bake down on us. Claire was relaxed, stretching her legs out the catch the rays, laughing at the tales Edward insisted on telling. It felt like we were properly on vacation, even though I was still covered in soil from digging and was in need of a shower.

  “So, you’re Killian’s lady friend then,” Edward said, pushing an empty plate away from him. “He had a girlfriend called Claire once before, I seem to remember. Spent the whole summer moping about because she wouldn’t answer his calls or return his messages. Ended up joining the Navy looking like a real grump, moping over a girl.”

  I saw Claire look uncomfortable, then the more Edward spoke, the lighter her expression became. “That was me,” she said. “I was the Claire back then.”

  Edward looked at her, considering. “Were you now? And now you’re here. Interesting.”

  “How so, old man?” I said. I’d been calling him old man since I was a kid.

  He smiled. “My wife, Elizabeth, and I met some time before we married. She went out walking with me a few times when were sixteen then told me she wasn’t interested. I think I was a bit beneath her. She was going to become a school mistress and I was working on the boats – books were never my thing. Five years later I had my own couple of boats thanks to hard graft and a bit of luck and I saw her on the beach and tried my luck. We got married three months later.”

  “What was Elizabeth like?” Claire asked.

  Edward smiled. “Dark hair, slim, argumentative. She laughed a lot too and we never went to bed on an argument. In
fact, arguments were quite good for just before bed, if you see what I mean.” He gave Claire a knowing wink.

  “That’s enough,” I said. “I don’t need to think about that. I remember Elizabeth and she’d have had your hide speaking like that.”

  He stood up, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I’ll be off then. Make sure you come fix my roof.” He glanced out towards the sea. “Good day for being in the water. Been a few jellyfish around so make sure you wear a wetsuit, if you’ve got one that fits.” He eyed me and shook his head. “Navy made you a man, boy. Maybe that’s why she’s interested now.”

  We both laughed as he walked away, starting to whistle the same tune I remembered as a kid.

  “He’s a character,” Claire said. “I like him a lot.”

  “You’d have liked Elizabeth too. I never knew she’d turned him down first though. I thought they’d gotten married younger.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe they both had things they needed to do first. Shall we go to the beach?”

  I nodded. “Let me dig out my wetsuit.”

  The cold water kicked my adrenalin into rush mode as I started to paddle out into the waves. It was a good day to be out in the sea, Edward had been right. Around a dozen other surfers were already there, some I recognised, others were strangers. The beach was relatively busy, mainly with teenagers and adults walking. There were better beaches for children further down, nearer to the seaside towns such as Bude, which was also another surfers’ hotspot.

  Claire had settled down on a thick blanket with a book and a camera, her feet bare and her hair scraped back from her face. Part of me hadn’t wanted to leave her, and I’d tried to encourage her to get into the water with me, but I’d been turned down outright. As I’d ran towards the sea with my board I’d felt her eyes on my back, watching my ass and damn, if it didn’t feel good to know I had her attention above everything else that was around her in the cove.

  I ducked my head under, feeling the current, my senses alive at being in the water. I loved the sea, the energy I could take from it. It had been part of my drive to join the Marines as being in water had always felt like home. It took me a couple more minutes and then I was up on my board, catching the waves and harnessing their power. For the first time in what felt like years, I was content.