White Knight Page 11

  “I think you have a fan,” I said when he was out of earshot.

  “Who?” She turned around. “The waiter? I’m…”

  “Not old enough to be his mother,” I interrupted. “He looks around twenty. Poor guy.”

  I noticed a shadow crossing her face briefly. “Why poor guy?”

  “Because he doesn’t get to be sat where I am.”

  She looked down at the table, unable to take the compliment.

  “Claire,” I said. “I don’t know what happened and I know that at some point you’ll explain it to me, but nothing ever changed about what I feel for you.” I kept my voice low, not wanting anyone to to overhear.

  She lifted her chin and nodded, slowly and slightly. “I can’t yet. I don’t know how and I don’t know how you’ll think of me afterwards.”

  My chest churned as I saw her eyes become turbulent with trepidation. “I know you,” I said, touching under her chin and lifting it with one finger. “I know you shouldn’t be worried. Whatever you tell me won’t change what I think and how I feel about you.”

  She caught my hand with hers. “Okay. Tell me about your business.”

  We talked through our drinks and our food and through a second bottle of wine, catching up on years of knowing each other but not knowing each other enough. She was as I remembered, but more. More beautiful, more intelligent, more everything and I spent at least ten seconds out of every minute stopping myself from picking her up, putting her over my shoulder and carrying her back to my bed.

  “You haven’t changed,” she said, cocking her head to one side and appraising me. “You looked at me like that years ago. I saw you looking at me like that when we were out for Sunday lunch the first time Jacks introduced Vanessa to us all.”

  I didn’t look away; it wasn’t in my nature. “I’m older,” I said. “I have changed in some ways.”

  She bit back a smile. “You have more muscles. You’re bigger.”

  “Yeah, there’s that,” I said, running my finger up and down the soft skin of her forearm. “Is that a problem?”

  “Fuck no,” she smiled. “I’m just curious as to why I’ve never heard a woman’s name mentioned in connection to you by my brothers?”

  “I haven’t been celibate, Claire,” I said. I had been anything but, although she didn’t need to know that. The uniform, then my job had been nectar for women and I enjoyed fucking as much as the next man, probably more than some, but rarely had the same woman managed to hypnotise me into more than a few dates.

  She laughed, wrapping her fingers into mine. “I know that. I heard about that from Max. Your ability with taking someone home was never questioned. In fact, I remember Seph just a a few weeks ago mentioning about some blonde whose hotel you’d gone back to and how Seph couldn’t believe your luck.”

  I looked away, making a note to murder Seph the next time I saw him. “Yeah, well. It didn’t mean anything.”

  She watched me, a soft, knowing smile creeping at her lips. “It’s fine, Killian,” she said. “I haven’t been celibate either. I suspect you’ve heard about my stable of shit one-nighters from my brothers.”

  “They sometimes mentioned it,” I said, focusing on the soft skin of her hands. “I didn’t listen. Has there been anyone serious?”

  “Honestly? No. I’ve concentrated on my job,” she shrugged and sipped her wine. “There have been a couple of people I’ve seen more than once and one or two who were good for convenience but no one stole my heart, Killian.”

  “So, there’s no one I need to murder, apart from Seph?” I said, rationalising my thoughts. She hadn’t been mine for thirteen years and I had no right to feel possessive over her during that time, but still, I was relieved that there hadn’t been anyone who had been a fixture, even a secret one like I had been.

  Her smile was broad and full. “No, K. I didn’t fall in love. When I stopped returning your messages I decided to focus on my studies and career.” Her voice had wavered.

  “There was more to it than that though, wasn’t there?”

  Her expression was sweet and soulful, eyes wide like they had been on the first night we’d slept together when she’d made me feel like I hung the moon and put the stars there too. “There was, and I will tell you. But not yet. Let me have just a little longer.”

  We left the pub and slowly walked back to her parents’ house, my hand on her lower back, dipping into her jeans. I remembered when we would steal time away from the halls of residence and lecture halls and go into the country side where no one would care if they saw us touching or kissing.

  “Are you bothered about what my brothers will say?” she said, as if reading my mind.

  “No. I’m not saying it’s not their business, because it kind of is, but we’re adults and it’s up to us what we do.”

  “Or who we do,” she said wickedly, pulling me to the side of the path where a fallen tree had taken up residence as a bench. “It’s weird.”

  “What is?” I sat next to her, our legs touching, my arm around her waist, hand on her skin.

  “When you kissed me, I didn’t feel like I had gone back thirteen years. It wasn’t like the past had crept up on us. This now, it feels…” I shut her up by kissing her, capturing her lips with mine and she responded immediately, her hands moving to my face and pulling me closer. It wasn’t gentle or tentative; it was forceful and needy and I had to keep control enough to stop my hands moving up to her tits or feel between her legs, remembering that we were in public. I wanted to know if she tasted the same, if she made the same noises when she came, if she would dig her nails into my back and let me hold her wrists above her head while I plundered her pussy.

  She pulled away, her lips swollen and eyes wild. “Fuck,” she said. “That’s all it takes – one kiss and I’m as wet as Niagara Falls in the rain.”

  I chuckled. “Be a shame to waste it.”

  Claire laughed, looking around us. “As much as I’m not bothered about my brothers seeing us holding hands or kissing, I draw a line at them catching us fucking like rabbits in a field.” She was still breathless and I resisted the urge to beat my chest in victory.

  I nodded, keeping my hands where they were, slightly under her top, around the waist that was as tiny as I remembered. “How do you want to play this?” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “There are going to be questions about why we’ve gone from insulting each other to, well, this. As in as soon as we step into the house,” I said, her head now against my shoulder, one hand trailing up my leg. I was hard to the extent of being uncomfortable, my cock remembering exactly how it felt to be buried deep inside her and I wasn’t embarrassed about it. I wanted her to like the effect she had on me and relish in it like she used to.

  “You’re right,” she said, her hand stopping at the top of my leg and squeezing. “We tell them the truth. That we were a couple at university and there are still feelings there.” She looked at me, worry in her eyes. “There are, aren’t there?”

  I kissed her again, softer, sweeter than last time, tasting her mouth and the wine she’d drank. Her hand pressed against my hard cock and I felt her moan into my mouth. “Yes,” I said, pulling away. “But do you want to do that today? Or do we play it down while we have time to see where this goes?”

  She sat up, late afternoon sun warming her face. “We need to play it down. They’re going to know we weren’t just having dinner as friends but, yeah, you’re right. We don’t know what this is.”

  I kissed her again, quicker, less intense. “Slow,” I said as we broke apart. “Slowly. Although God knows I want to fuck you senseless and make you scream.” The final sentence was almost mumbled as I stood up, offering a hand to help her.

  Claire ran her hands up my chest, one resting on my shoulder, the other ruffling my beard. “I need you to fuck me senseless. I think I could come if you just touched my clit even through my jeans my pussy is throbbing that much.”

  My balls tightened at
her words. She’d had a dirty mouth when she was younger, sparing no shame to tell me exactly how she felt and what she wanted me to do. My studious, clever girl was proud of her sensuality and had never been coy, even that first time. I smiled at her words. “Let’s not rush.”

  “I know.”

  We held hands and walked back together in silence, no words needed to communicate why we both knew we couldn’t dive head first into where we left off. There was too much at stake.

  ***

  Killian

  Dear Claire,

  It’s been six weeks and four days since you’ve last spoken to me and I have no idea what I’ve done. I’ve gone through every second of the last few days we spent together and come up with exactly nothing. I haven’t cheated, I haven’t – as far as I know – done anything to disrespect you and I didn’t eat the last bar of chocolate that you’d stashed away even though I was tempted.

  I fucking miss you.

  In fact, I’m not sure I can leave you like I planned and go into the marines. It’s killed me being away from you and, even though we spoke about it, I’m not sure I can do it anymore. But then, common sense says that we’re too young to stay together and you need to do your degree and train to be a lawyer and I’d be a distraction from that. I want you to have the best, to be the best.

  I’ve spoken to Max and asked him about you. He says you’ve been a bit weird, that you weren’t feeling too well and kept taking yourself off on your own. I wanted to storm straight over and find out what was wrong and try to make everything better, that’s why I tried phoning you fuck knows how many times in one evening, but I guess you don’t want to speak to me. And I don’t why – which is killing me.

  My brother’s come home on leave and keeps asking why I’m so moody and don’t want to go out anywhere. I mentioned something about a girl when we were drinking whisky and he just laughed then asked how you were. I’m not going to lie to him if he asks me outright – he wouldn’t tell your brothers.

  I don’t understand now why were so secret, why we thought it would bother them. I know Max and Jackson are protective but they would’ve known I wouldn’t have messed you around.

  For fuck’s sake, I wish you’d speak to me. I need to know you’re okay.

  Love you.

  K.

  Chapter Eight

  Claire

  The overwhelming emotion I felt as we walked into the kitchen of my parents was frustration. I had forgotten – kind of – exactly how my body responded to Killian. The slightest touch and I’d be wet, a command from his lips or the way he could move me to tell me what to do and I would be on the point of an orgasm without any form of physical stimulation. No other man had held a candle to him and it wasn’t as if I hadn’t tried. Over the years I hadn’t sought a relationship but I had sought sex, enjoying the therapy and the endorphins afterwards but nothing had come close to that part - yet.

  “Did you have a nice meal?” Marie said, nine pairs of eyes on us straight away. Killian’s hand was on the small of my back and he showed no sign of wanting to put any distance between us. We weren’t going to have an all-out confession with my family but neither were we pretending that it was just friends.

  “It was good. Busy, but the food was as good as I remembered.” I eyeballed Seph until he shifted off one of the sofas where he was taking up the room of two people and sat down, Killian sitting next to me. Max held my gaze for a moment, raising his eyebrows and there was a silence that was pregnant with unasked questions.

  “How come no one’s headed back to the city yet?” I said, knowing damn well the answer.

  Vanessa stared between Max and Jackson and looked at me. “Why do you think? No, I’ll tell you. Mainly because your brothers are nosey, gossiping fishwives.”

  “You were curious too!” Jackson said, turning round to face Vanessa. “You wanted to stay until she got back!”

  Vanessa shrugged. “I wanted to make sure she was okay.”

  “Why wouldn’t she be okay?” Seph said. “It’s Killian I was concerned for. There are a lot of cornfields around here – great places to hide a body and we know Claire’s history with men. Very few live to tell the tale.”

  Vanessa threw a cushion at my youngest, and possibly most irritating, brother. “Then your concern is unwarranted as Killian is back here safe and well so we can leave everyone in peace and head home.” She stood up and flicked Jackson’s ear.

  “Was it a date?” Max asked, now looking at Killian. “You don’t have to hide it. Not this time.”

  I sat bolt upright, as if someone had put a long ruler into my back. “What?” Killian’s hand rested on my back, fingers pressing in to reassure me. “What do you mean?”

  “Your first year at university. When you and Killian were sneaking about everywhere pretending you were keeping it quiet that you were seeing each other. I wasn’t stupid, although you did do a good enough job of it that Jackson never caught on.”

  Seph’s head was turning from Max to me to Killian as if he was watching a three-way tennis match. “You were together at Oxford?”

  “Apparently so,” Jackson muttered, glaring at anyone who would meet his eyes.

  “Yes,” I said, looking at Killian to gauge his reaction. He looked calm, unflustered, his usual demeanour. His mouth curved into a smile when he noticed me. “We were together at Oxford.”

  “And that concludes tonight’s inquisition,” Marie said, smacking the back of Seph’s head. “Those that are departing need to clear off. Those staying can shift outside so Seph and Callum can help clear up.”

  Max was the first to stand, heading to fridge where he pulled out a couple of beers. “You want a wine, Claire? I’m heading off tomorrow morning so there’s time for a few more.”

  “Sure,” I said, standing up to head to the counter where an open bottle of merlot called my name, but Killian beat me to it, taking out a clean glass and pouring a large measure. I followed Max outside where the evening sun hung like a golden ball, swallows swinging about the sky, their silhouettes dancing shadows.

  We sat on the terrace where the evening sun hit in summer. Killian had brought the bottle and an extra couple of beers, preparing for the conversation Max was clearly wanting to have. My eldest brother was watchful, studying people and in some ways a lot like Killian. He wasn’t the chattiest, unlike Jackson and Seph, but when he said something it was because he had considered it, unless he was in one of his famous rages.

  “You knew and you never said,” I sat down next to Killian, accepting the glass and downing half of it. “Why?”

  Max shrugged. “Because you clearly didn’t want anyone to know so I just went along with it. Granted, if K had still been bringing other girls back to our rooms like he had in second year I’d have said something then, but he never did. And you were happy. Until you weren’t.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you,” Killian said, half his beer gone already. I felt momentarily guilty. Max and Killian had been really good friends, they still were, and our relationship meant that Killian had been deceitful. I doubted Max was bothered by that – they had maintained their friendship while Killian had served with the marines and been abroad for the greater part of ten years – but still, it didn’t sit well with me.

  “It was my fault,” I said. “I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want you to be mad at me or Killian so I said to keep it quiet. Don’t fall out with him.”

  Max laughed. “Claire, it didn’t matter. You were happy and so was he. It was up to you if you made it public or not although the noise you were both making when I came by your dorm room one night was very public, by the way.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I’d gone back to a girl’s room and was leaving there to go home. I recognised your, erm, voices for want of a better word. I already knew by then. But it’s your business, no one else’s. We’re good.” He knocked back his beer, my father joining us outside and the conversation turned to sport and rugby, everyth
ing feeling like normal apart from Killian’s arm around my waist.

  The sky morphed through a myriad of colours, blue to yellow to red to purple and we moved inside as the midges began to bite. Jackson and Vanessa had left already, Seph and Sophie catching a lift with them. Amelie was playing cards with Max, and Callum was showing Marie photos that’d been taken for some promotional material at the zoo where he worked as one of their vets. My father was deep in a book, having passed no comment about me and Killian except giving me an amused and very knowing glance.

  My phone vibrated on the table, lighting up, and I saw Katie’s name on the screen. I shifted to grab it, a sharp jab of concern impaling me.

  Katie: Had a message from Dean. He wants to go into mediation before he goes on vacation for a month. I feel sick.

  I shook my head. I’d heard nothing over the weekend from his lawyers and suspected this was mind games on his behalf. This week was too much of a rush given Katie’s well-being, but then if it could be managed - we wouldn’t have to wait for a month until he returned and I wasn’t sure how much emotional stress Katie could take.

  Claire: I’ll contact his lawyers tomorrow and we’ll see what can be done. It’s very short notice. How are you?

  The three little dots kept flashing for what felt like minutes. Killian had heard from his brother during the course of the day saying that Katie was struggling although she was trying to cover it up.

  Katie: I’m okay. Just feel jittery about everything. It’s good being here though. Nick is really looking after us and I feel I’m being helpful with the girls. And I feel safe.

  Claire: Good. Nick’s a good ‘un. I’ll see you in the morning about nine thirty.

  Katie: Okay. I hope you enjoyed your date with Killian. He seems lovely and he’s absolutely gorgeous. If you need a lie-in just let me know.