The Grayson Trilogy

by Georgia Rose

  “Yes.” My answer was as blunt as his question but there seemed no need to add anything more to it.

  “If he’d known I existed, he’d have backed off. As it was it made it look like I was someone you’re not that serious about.” He hesitated for a moment, continuing softly, questioning, “Perhaps that’s because you’re not serious about me?” I sat up, annoyed, looking down at him; my response had a steely edge of anger to it.

  “Firstly, no, he wouldn’t have backed off – I know him and you don’t. He came to say something and he wouldn’t have left until it had been said. You have to remember that he knows me well and he will know that if I don’t call there will be no point in him trying again. My mind will not be changed.

  “Secondly, it is irrelevant what he thinks about you or what he thinks about how I feel for you. It has nothing to do with him and I do not want him knowing about or getting involved in my new life.

  “Lastly, you can’t believe I’m not serious about you. You know something of what I’ve been through and how difficult I’ve found it to form any sort of relationship and yet I’ve given myself to you completely and I couldn’t have done that if I wasn’t serious. You’re behaving like an idiot.” I ended my rant, glaring at him, his eyes softening as he reached across. Taking my hand in his he brought it to his lips, kissing my palm gently before looking back up at me, a little shamefaced.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, I didn’t mean it.” He couldn’t, however, just leave it there. “If he hadn’t backed off though, I could have sorted him out.”

  “How, Trent? By picking a fight with him? Because that’s what would’ve happened if you’d got into it with him.”

  He sounded a little sulky as he responded, “I would have won.” Oh, good grief.

  “This is a ridiculous conversation to be having. I don’t want you and my ex fighting, for any reason, and that’s the end of it.” My response had been spiky and his retort was incisive.

  “It’s important to me that my rivals know where they stand. In order for that to happen you need to make it clear to them what I am to you. I wouldn’t hesitate in introducing you as my girlfriend.”

  “What do you mean by ‘rivals’?”

  “Emma, you’re so naive, you have no idea how many men are waiting for their chance to get into your pants. Alex is a prime example.” I started to reply that it wasn’t like that but I knew that that was exactly what it was like with Alex.

  “Alex is an exception.”

  “He’s not an exception. There’s obviously Carlton, plus some of the other boys, and don’t even get me started on the farm staff…I’ve waited too long for you and I’m not about to let you go, at least not easily, and not unless that’s what you want.” He was getting wound up, and realising this he stopped for a moment, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Trent,” I murmured, hoping to reassure him.

  “Emma, you have to realise that in this world, men chase and women choose,” and with that he wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me down towards him before adding, “I need to show you why you should choose me,” and he brought his lips down hard, effectively silencing the words on mine.

  “I’ve already chosen.”

  My mind was racing as we lay in bed later and once Trent was asleep I slipped from beneath the covers and went downstairs. Susie curled up beside me on the settee, no doubt sensing my troubled mind. I stroked her as I thought about what Alex had told me. I tried to think it through rationally; from what he’d said it had been brought up in court that I should have been taken more seriously from the start, that the doctor had made a mistake in sending us away. I’d believed him, believed in his superior knowledge and authority, even when my instincts told me differently. I thought back to our arrival at the hospital: the initial assessment of Eva and her condition being put down to dehydration. I remembered pleading with them to do something, to run some tests, but I was ignored. Orders were only given for her to be rehydrated before being reassessed. No one listened to me despite my pleading; I remembered my humiliation at being written off as a hysterical mother.

  I felt now, after this passage of time, that I could see clearer, and that while I still thought I was to blame, I was not the only one. The burden I’d shouldered lifted slightly as I thought about all those who now carried it with me.

  “Are you ready to talk to me yet?” I looked up to see Trent’s frame in the doorway, his face gentle.

  “Yeah, I think I can now.” He came to fold himself around me, holding me as I told him everything that had passed between me and Alex that evening.

  Trent listened attentively, then when I’d finished he spoke: “That’s good, isn’t it? Doesn’t it ease your guilt, make you feel better?” I knew he wouldn’t understand what I was about to say.

  “I don’t want to feel better, Trent. I want to feel raw inside, I want to hurt, it reminds me. I’m afraid if I lose that feeling I’ll lose her, and everything she was to me.” I hung my head, imagining his disappointment that this wasn’t going to be the easy fix he probably wanted.

  “I don’t think you’ll ever lose her, Em, but maybe you can help to heal the rawness so that it becomes easier to live with by being more open about her…making her a more natural part of your life.”

  “What do you mean?” I questioned.

  “Well…you never talk about her. I’m not suggesting you start telling everyone but talk to me, I’d love to hear about her.”

  “You would?”

  He nodded. “She’s part of you, Em, and that makes me want to know everything.” I smiled softly at him and we kissed; then, held tightly in his arms, I started talking.

  Chapter 20

  Over the following week the weather became hot and sunny and I received a call to say a hay delivery was coming but it was early evening by the time Porter arrived with the lorry. Just behind him Trent drove into the yard, followed by the pickup containing Hayes and Turner. It was hot and dusty work so I was pleased to have so many hands to help. Once the lorry was clear Porter was keen to get off, as were Hayes and Turner, even spurning my offer of a beer, and as I quickly swept up the debris around the stack I could feel Trent watching me. I turned to look at him.

  “What?”

  “You’re looking deliciously fuckable.” He grinned at me salaciously.

  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding…time and place, Trent,” I replied. “I feel disgustingly filthy and sweaty.” He moved closer to me, his voice rough.

  “Yes indeed. You’re quite right, really filthy,” and grabbing my hand he led me out of the barn and towards the cottage. “Come on, time for a shower I think.” Looking back at me he grinned wolfishly and irresistibly.

  Later that evening once we’d showered and eaten we lay curled around each other on one of the settees and I thought that this was maybe the time to find out the answers to a few of my questions.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.” This was Trent’s standard response to this question, but he then continued with, “You know I’m sure you do this on purpose.”

  “Do what?”

  “You weaken my defences by sedating me with sex and then start probing me with your questions. You could be very useful when interrogating people, you know, it’s quite a technique you have.”

  “Let’s see shall we, seeing as how you usually duck this line of questioning. I’m interested to know what sort of work it is you do with Cavendish, off the estate.”

  “Ah, I thought that might come up. What do you think you know already?”

  “I think it must be something important and secretive because otherwise why would we have to sign non-disclosure agreements before working here? It’s a bit of a strange thing to have to sign for this type of job.”

  Trent chuckled a little at this before saying, “Cavendish told me how you quizzed him at the interview as to whether or not he was up to anything n
efarious. He thought that was hilarious.”

  “Yes, so I gathered at the time, but a girl has got to protect herself.”

  “He told me that was the moment that he thought you’d be perfect for me.”

  “Did he indeed? I don’t know what made him think that.”

  “It was because you were not afraid to speak out. He thought you’d be quite capable of putting me in my place, and how right he was.” At this Trent brought his lips across to my ear, gently grazing my earlobe with his teeth before kissing my neck, making me lose focus on my line of questioning for a moment.

  “Don’t try to distract me,” I said, moving a little away from him. “So,” I continued, getting back to the matter in hand, “I think it’s something to do with the military, particularly because of the helicopter, but none of you dress in uniform so it can’t be standard forces stuff and it’s also a bit odd that you come from different branches of the military,” I mused.

  “How do you know that?” His expression told me that this knowledge surprised him.

  “Carlton told me when I confronted him about why he was so happy to leave me when you turned up, on the night I’d had a little bit too much to drink. He tried to tell me it was because you were his boss but eventually admitted you were his Commanding Officer and that all the boys were from the forces, but different branches.”

  “Did he indeed? I’d better make a mental note that Carlton is never going to stand up to any form of torture.” I smiled at this.

  “Tell me,” I asked gently, and he gazed at me for a moment before deciding.

  “Okay, I guess you should know what I get up to. You’re right about the military connection. The helicopter is an Apache, although not currently armed. To put it briefly, we work with the Secret Intelligence Service, SIS, which you would know as MI6, offering them an external independent team to call on when needed to protect the country against threats from overseas.” Even though I’d been expecting something like this it was still a surprise to hear what I’d thought had been my rather fanciful ideas being confirmed.

  “Oh…so you’re what…secret agents?” I said, my voice becoming a high-pitched whisper. He chuckled as he confirmed I was correct.

  “Like James Bond?” I clarified, still squeaky, and he nodded, smiling mischievously.

  “Yes, it’s just like James Bond, but unfortunately the job generally involves a bit less sex.” I frowned at him, my eyes narrowing. “Obviously any that does occur is purely for Queen and Country, and as Cavendish is married I obviously have to shoulder that burden on his behalf…It’s not like I like it,” he teased, as I punched him playfully on the arm and then squealed as he wrapped his hands round my waist, tickling me. Suddenly I gasped, both hands coming up to cover my mouth.

  “Oh my God.” He stopped immediately, looking concerned.

  “What?”

  “I’ve become a Bond girl!” I said, horrified, to which he threw his head back with laughter, looking as young and carefree as I wished he would all the time.

  Once he’d stopped laughing we lay quietly for a few minutes while I thought this over.

  “So,” I started.

  “Uh oh,” I heard him mutter. “I was hoping the interrogation was over.”

  “What’s with the hair?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well all the others, even if they’re not technically in the standard military, still wear their hair in that style of cut, very short and neat, and you don’t.”

  “You don’t like my hair?”

  “I do like your hair, I like it a lot. I like it being longer, a little curly, unruly and tousled, it’s very, very sexy.” He started nuzzling my neck again, not needing much encouragement. “But it’s maverick, it doesn’t fit in with the others.”

  “That’s because I’m not like the others, Em,” he murmured into my neck, but then stopped, sighed deeply and pulled away to look at me as he explained.

  “Carlton was being loyal when he told you I’m his Commanding Officer. He and the others treat me as if I am – they are loyal out of respect for me as they think I was mistreated but the truth is I was discharged from the RAF a few years ago.” He was watching me carefully as he told me this.

  “Why, what happened?” I asked, puzzled.

  Trent sat up, suddenly tense. I sat up too, sensing his discomfort with this line of questioning. This seemed to have become awfully serious awfully quickly. Turning towards me he ran his hands through his hair, then down over his face, clearly concerned over what he was about to say, sitting for a moment, collecting his thoughts, before looking at me, composed and ready. I tried to prepare myself for what was about to come at me with no idea as to what it could be.

  “Sorry if my behaviour is concerning you, Em. But something happened, several years ago now, that I need to tell you. However, I’ve never had to say this out loud before, at least not to anyone I’ve cared about, and it’s difficult for me. It may well make you think very differently about me,” he finished, a note of caution in his voice. I was feeling nervous now, concerned over what was coming. Taking a deep breath, he started.

  “We were all based on an RAF station in the north of the country. Cavendish and Grace had not long been married. Cavendish was away on an officers training course one weekend. I was on station, going home from work late one night, having stopped off for a drink on the way. I became aware of a commotion behind one of the staff buildings so I went to investigate, and found a woman being attacked by a man who was trying to rape her. I dragged him off her, only then realising it was Grace. Unfortunately, he didn’t take my intervention well and rather than running or backing off he took me on and we got into a fight…” He paused, closing his eyes for a moment. I put my hands on his, hoping to offer some sort of support as he was obviously struggling. He continued, his voice quiet, “He died, Em. I killed him. He wouldn’t stop coming at me and it was going to be either him or me.” I was silent for a moment, absorbing what he’d said. Meeting my eyes, his clouded with uncertainty, he waited for my reaction.

  “Who was he?” I asked quietly.

  “He was a civilian, temporarily staying on the station with a company that was carrying out repairs to the runway. He’d been out drinking and it was a senseless, random attack. Grace happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  I paused, but only for a moment. I knew what to say.

  “You don’t have to justify anything to me – I know you’re a good man and you wouldn’t have done that if there had been an alternative. You saved Grace, Trent, you did a good thing.” I thought I saw a flicker of relief in his face.

  “It doesn’t bother you that I’ve killed someone?”

  “As I’d already thought you were in the forces I’d reconciled myself to the fact that that might be the case. That is your line of work – it kind of comes with the territory.”

  “I guess it does, although it’s not quite the same. However, I’m glad you can see it that way. Unfortunately the RAF didn’t. They didn’t appreciate me killing a civilian, whatever the circumstances were, and I had to face a court martial. Despite Cavendish’s considerable influence I was found guilty of bringing the Service into disrepute and had to resign my commission, losing my job and the career I’d worked so hard for.

  “So you’re right, I don’t fit the mould and I guess the hair is a conscious choice, a point of rebellion. No doubt it drives the powers that be mad that I don’t toe the line but I don’t worry about upsetting them anymore. I’m there for Cavendish and him alone, to do whatever he needs me to do, to protect him, and that’s it.”

  “You said the boys thought you were mistreated? Some of them couldn’t have even been around when you were going through this.”

  “Well the RAF rather threw the book at me and it backfired on them. The civilian police had dropped all charges as they regarded it as self-defence but the RAF wouldn’t let it go. It was the opinion at the time that I was made an example of, and t
hat they’d used this incident as a reason to get rid of me. That didn’t go down too well in the ranks, so the whole sorry tale has become a rather well-remembered and frequently retold piece of history, with me, rather embarrassingly, becoming the unwitting, and unwilling, hero. It’s one of the reasons people like to come and work here.”

  “But why would the RAF want to get rid of you in the first place?”

  “I didn’t realise why at the time, I was too young, but looking back on it now I had a problem then accepting discipline and admittedly was a little hot-headed, struggling with authority, getting into a few fights, same as at school really. But I caused the RAF some headaches which they could have done without and they took their opportunity when an excuse conveniently presented itself.” I hesitated, taking in the description that had just been painted for me of a Trent I didn’t recognise. I felt very protective towards him, angry at how he’d been treated.

  “I’m struggling to accept you as some sort of bad boy, it’s not the view I had of you at all.”

  “That’s because I’m all grown up now, Em. I learnt to control myself eventually, though that part of me is never far away.” He managed to smile weakly at his explanation.

  “I’m shocked you were dismissed by them like that. I understand now what she meant when Grace told me they owed you everything.” He smiled softly, though his eyes remained sad.

  “Did she? That’s rather exaggerating it, although as they’d just found out Grace was pregnant they were doubly thankful and they’ve been very supportive to me ever since, over Zoe and everything with the setup here.” He looked so despondent my heart went out to him.

  “Thank you for telling me, I could see that was difficult for you…you haven’t ever told anyone that before?”

  He looked at me and smiled, remembering a similar conversation in reversed roles. “No.”

  “Then I’m honoured that you told me,” and I kissed him softly. “And I understand now where your sadness comes from.”

  He nodded, and clearly relieved that it was over, visibly brightened. “I’m going to get a glass of wine, do you want one?”