CHAPTER ONE
Present day
With a gentle roll of the stem between his thumb and forefinger, Sir Guy Somerton held the tulip-shaped glass up to examine the contents more closely. Against the dimmed light on the library wall, the deep-amber cognac acquired a warm, golden heart. On a cool, late spring evening, the spirit was a welcome accompaniment to the heat emanating from the log fire in the hearth.
Lowering the glass again, he inhaled the bouquet, savoured the rich, spicy notes. He took a sip, and allowed the flavours to develop before swallowing.
Superb.
In this very room, more years ago than he liked to recall while sober, he’d taught his niece how to appreciate the fine French spirit. While school had done its best to give her an academic education, he’d taken it upon himself to provide a social one. His instincts had demanded he equip her to hold her own in the elite circles to which he’d anticipated life would take her. The orphaned tomboy had grown into a woman Meg and Oliver would have been proud of.
The clock on the mantel chimed the hour, reminding Guy that Ros and Simon were due to arrive any time now. Following their break in Norway, they had news to share—Guy had a good idea what that news might be. As a couple, they were damn near perfect for each other.
There’d once been a woman who was perfect for him. He only had himself to blame for losing her. He’d been such a monumental fool. In the intervening years, not a day had gone by that he hadn’t thought about her. He’d never told Ros about Liz, and vice versa—they’d been in separate compartments in his life, and he’d seen no reason to change that. Maybe he should have, but it was too late now—much too late. Liz was gone, and all that remained was the mountain of regret for all the things he should have done with her but hadn’t. All these years, and the pain of losing her still flayed his heart.
It was no worse a punishment than he deserved.
Noises of visitors arriving, followed by an enthusiastic greeting, alerted him to the imminent disruption of his too-peaceful evening. With a smile, he set the cognac down on the side table, next to the ashtray in which his double corona smouldered. Ros, no doubt, would give him hell for not giving up the habit yet. As the door swung open, he stood, ready to greet the source of the disturbance.
“Guy!”
The hug his niece gave him was full of energy and happiness. “Welcome home, both of you. Make yourselves comfortable. Did you have a good time?”
They sat together on the sofa that matched his leather armchair. With great satisfaction, Guy noted the way Simon put a protective arm around his niece. He also noted the thong around the other man’s neck, which hadn’t been there when Guy had seen them both off at the airport almost three weeks earlier.
“Better than we ever imagined.” Ros glanced at Simon and gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“I asked Ros to marry me, and she said yes. You don’t look surprised.”
“Somehow, I don’t think he is.” She placed a proprietorial hand on her fiancé’s thigh. “Machiavelli could learn a thing or two from uncle dear.”
Guy snorted. “Machiavelli was an amateur. Now, if I’d written The Prince…”
“We’d be in a lot of trouble! Ah, before I forget, Heather said she’d bring us some coffee before she leaves for the day. You work that poor woman far too hard,” Ros scolded.
“And you know very well the only reason she’s stayed late today is to see you,” he parried.
The knock at the library door announced Heather’s perfectly timed arrival with coffee for three and a whole, pristine chocolate fudge cake.
“I see you got Della on the case?” Guy observed, one eyebrow raised.
“Of course. Special occasions only, you said, and I think this qualifies as a special occasion. Is there anything else you need before I go?”
“We’ll be fine, Heather, thank you. And I appreciate your staying late tonight.”
“My pleasure, Sir Guy. I’m just sorry Rob and I are going away tomorrow.”
“Oh no, I wish I’d known. We could have come back earlier.” Ros jumped up and flung her arms around the woman who’d been such a strong maternal influence during her teenage years.
“Nonsense. It’s only for a few days. There’ll be plenty of time to catch up when we get back. And you know you only have to give me the word. I’ll leave the old curmudgeon—” she glanced at Guy “—to sort himself out while I’m helping you with your wedding.”
Guy assumed a mock wounded air. “You told Heather you’re getting married before you told me?”
“I saw Heather before I saw you,” Ros pointed out.
Heather joined in, too. “And I wasn’t about to pretend I hadn’t seen that gorgeous ring!”
Guy’s response was a loud and blatantly fake cough. “Mrs. Tregowan, I believe your better half is waiting to whisk you away.”
Their relationship might be employer and employee, but Heather and her husband were also longstanding family friends. That friendship included acerbic wit, with obligatory regular barbed exchanges. Heather fixed her boss with a mock stony glare. “Better half, is it? Well, they say the devil makes work for idle hands—it sounds like he makes work for the tongue attached to those hands as well.”
Guy shot a quick look at Ros. Her puzzled expression spoke volumes, reminding him he had yet to deliver his own news. “Are you going to Barcelona, or am I going to have to put up with you giving me grief for the next few days after all? You and Rob have a great time, and don’t hurry back.”
Having sent Heather off to join her husband, Guy poured the coffee, and cut slices of the cake for Simon and himself. Ros declined. Guy suspected her refusal of her favourite treat might have something to do with wedding dresses. And so it begins.
“So, how was Norway? Leaving aside the obvious excitement.” He nodded in the direction of Ros’ left hand.
“Incredible—you wouldn’t believe a lodge in the middle of nowhere could be so luxurious,” Ros enthused. “I would love a place like that.”
Her fiancé caught Guy’s eye and winked. Simon was up to something, and Guy would put money on his planning to make that happen—if he hadn’t already. “You found plenty to do, then? In the middle of nowhere?”
“Sometimes, the middle of nowhere is exactly where you want to be, when the company’s perfect.” She reached for Simon’s hand. “It was so peaceful there.”
Guy couldn’t blame her for that. An absence of excitement was exactly what she needed after the trials of her last few months with the unit.
Speaking for himself, peace was something he’d come to value more and more. Although he’d soon be back in harness, the nature of his new role would be poles apart from what he’d left behind. Peace of a less obvious kind, perhaps, but in his book, peace nonetheless. “Do you think you’ll go back sometime?”
Ros turned to her fiancé. “I think so. There were lots of things we didn’t get around to doing.”
“As long as you took care of the important things, there’s always time for the rest.”
Except when you didn’t take care of the important things. Then time ran out, because the woman you loved died, and you hadn’t told her half the things you should have done.
“So what’s the latest gossip from the office?”
The abrupt change of subject zeroed in on the news Guy had yet to impart. “Ah, about that. If you went into the office, you’d probably find the latest gossip was about me.”
“What on earth does that mean?”
Guy gave a nonchalant shrug. “Nothing serious. I resigned. A couple of weeks ago now. Don’t look so shocked. It’s been on the cards for a while, and like you, I had an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
Ros’ eyes narrowed. “You resigned, and you say it’s nothing serious? And what offer? Why haven’t you mentioned all this before?”
“A man’s got to have some secrets, even from his favourite niece.”
“I’m your only niece. So come on—spit it out. What’s been going on?”
“Oh, nothing much. Change is as good as a rest, and all that.”
“Which tells me nothing. Guy, I can’t see you sitting back and enjoying retirement in the country, day in, day out. What are you going to do? And who’s taking over the unit?”
“Changes are on the way. Several factors influenced my decision, not least of which is the unit being subsumed under a larger organisation. It’ll lose what made it unique, and what made it unique also made it successful. As for what I’m going to do… I was going to save it for my first day at the new job. On reflection, it might be better to tell you now. Alex Lombard made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I’ll be joining you at Spectrum as their government liaison director.”
“Really? You’re not joking?”
Guy couldn’t help but smile. “No, I’m not joking. I start on the first of the month. You don’t mind?”
“Why on earth would I mind? I just wish everyone else from the team could join us. What?” Suspicion narrowed her gaze. “What else don’t I know?”
“You know Spectrum’s expanding—we’re going to need extra manpower to carry out those plans. The people have got to come from somewhere, and you know as well as I do, the unit has the best.”
“You’re bringing everyone with you?”
“Let’s just say, I put an alternative on the table. Something for them to consider, if the new management regime isn’t to their liking. Now, how about if we change the subject to something far more interesting. Are you still planning to stay for the weekend?”
“If that’s okay with you?”
“As if you need to ask. You may have moved out years ago, but Stonehaven will always be your home. Yours too, now, Simon. I know you have that draughty old place in London, but—”
“Not for much longer, Guy.” Simon lifted Ros’ hand to his mouth for a gallant kiss. “My fiancée has done me the great honour of moving in with me since her apartment went on the market just before we went away. My ‘draughty old place’ goes up for sale at the end of next week. If it sells as quickly as the estate agent thinks it will, we may need to impose on your good graces for a while.”
“You know you can stay as long as you like. Where are you looking?”
“Probably not too far away,” Ros replied. “It needs to be commutable for Oxford and wherever the guys decide to set up the new HQ for Spectrum.”
The security business was growing into a force to be reckoned with. As a consequence. Alex, Cam and Ryan were looking for a site where they could establish a lot more than just an office to meet and greet clients.
“Unless they make a radical change to their plans, I think anywhere within the intersection of a twenty-five-mile radius of Stonehaven and Oxford would fit the bill. Are you looking for something you can move into immediately, or a project?”
“Either. I have to admit, though, the idea of designing a place we can call our own is very appealing.” Simon slipped an arm around Ros.
The way she leaned into him filled Guy with a satisfying sense of family. He recalled a conversation he’d had with Ros shortly before she and Simon left for their vacation, and wondered if she’d initiated the discussion he’d suggested. Stonehaven needed a riot of children creating havoc before it turned into a dusty, decaying museum, and he was roaming the halls like a desiccated old mummy.
“If you’re really looking for a money pit, there’s a place about fifteen, twenty miles north of here you might want to take a look at. That’s if you want to take it on in addition to a new job and organising a wedding?”
“Why not?” Ros glowed with happiness. “It’s probably going to be months before we can get married anyway, so—”
Simon disagreed. “It doesn’t have to be.”
She raised an eyebrow in his direction. Guy knew that eyebrow of old. His lips twitched. Erring on the side of caution, he hid the smile threatening to erupt, and awaited her reaction.
She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. “Men! I swear… Do you have any idea what’s involved in organising a wedding?”
“A venue? A registrar? A celebrant?”
Ros shook her head. “Congratulations, you aced the theory, but the practical? Whole different ballgame. We need the registrar to be available on the same day as the venue and the celebrant, not to mention the string quartet, the caterers—”
“Whoa! Wait right there. String quartet?”
Guy clamped his lips together. A burst of laughter at this critical moment probably wouldn’t be received well.
“When was the last time you went to a wedding? We both agreed we don’t want to get married in a church, so we’re looking at the register office or something like a country house hotel. I am not getting married in a register office. Therefore, it’s going to be at a hotel. Hmphhh!”
Guy couldn’t hold it in any longer. He roared with laughter at the sight of Simon silencing his indignant fiancée with a kiss that made Guy wonder whether he should execute a swift diplomatic withdrawal.
As their lips parted, he was glad he hadn’t. The look Simon gave Ros was one of pure, naked love. Guy had no doubt he’d just witnessed a moment of deep, silent intimacy between a submissive and his Mistress.
“Guy, I have a favour to ask. I have to head over to Brussels on Sunday night for a week of meetings. Would you keep an eye on Ros for me while I’m away?”
Ros turned a laser-like glare on her husband-to-be. “Excuse me? Who’s the professional bodyguard here?”
Guy rolled his eyes. Some things never changed, and were all the better for it. “Close protection officer, and if I may remind you, young lady, you’re out of that game now.”
At least, she was in terms of active duty, and definitely would be when she started in her new role as Spectrum’s head of VIP security. She’d made the decision while on vacation, and had called to let Guy know a couple of days ago.
“Thank God.” The heartfelt comment came from Simon. “If she starts visiting potential venues while I’m away, please would you make sure she doesn’t do too much?”
“Simon, we’ve had this discussion so many times. It’s been months. I’ve healed well, I’ve got my energy back, I’ll be fine.”
Months since she’d been shot while rescuing Simon from the thugs who’d kidnapped him on the orders of a man he’d once called friend. Given that she’d almost died, Guy couldn’t blame her fiancé for wanting to wrap her in cotton wool.
“Besides, how tiring is it going to be, visiting a few hotels to see if they’re suitable for our wedding?” she continued, apparently determined to make her point.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she takes it easy. It’ll be my pleasure to chauffeur her wherever she wants to go. I’ll get to spend some quality time with her as well.”
“Do you mind? I am still here.” Ros folded her arms. Her fingers drummed her biceps in a tattoo that reminded Guy of the way a cat used its tail to signal an imminent fit of hissing and spitting. She was here, all right, and she wouldn’t let them forget it, either.
“We know.” Guy didn’t mean only in terms of her presence in the room. Having her with them when she’d been so close to death was nothing short of a miracle. “So what’s your plan for the next few days?”
“To exploit your hospitality mercilessly, of course.” Ros’ sparkling smile returned. “I thought we’d take it easy tomorrow—maybe go for a ride, and spend some time lazing around the pool. Simon has to be back in London on Sunday for the train to Brussels. I’ll probably check on the house while I’m there, and possibly stay overnight. I’m not sure yet. While he’s dealing with bureaucrats, I can make a start on the wedding.”
“You could always have the reception here, you know. It’s not as if we’re exactly short of space.”
“And have Heather rushed off her feet? Not to mention you’re living in cloud cuckoo land if you think for one moment Della would tolerate outside caterers creating havoc in her kitchen. The circus would drive you crazy. Besides, Heather, Rob, Della and everyone else will be honoured guests. I don’t want them lifting a finger—apart from Heather, if she’ll agree to help me choose a dress.”
“I take your point, and you’re quite right—she’d run herself ragged trying to organise everything.” Guy rose and picked up his cigar and glass of cognac. “Okay, I’m going to leave you young things to enjoy the rest of your evening. Nothing’s changed since the last time you were here, help yourselves to whatever, and I’ll see you for breakfast. Or not. Have fun.”
Suddenly feeling a good deal older than his fifty-two years, Guy headed for his bolt hole in the west wing. It wasn’t like him to feel so down, especially when Ros and Simon were not only visiting, but had brought good news with them as well. He could only put it down to their happiness being yet another reminder of how his personal life had gone so disastrously wrong.
He’d been thinking about Liz far too much recently, a situation he guessed had been triggered by Ros’ brush with death. Seeing her so happy brought home to him exactly what he’d let slip through his fingers.
A hard-headed realist, he knew it was no good wishing for what could never be.
If wishing worked, he’d turn back time.
If wishing worked, he’d tell his younger self not to be so damned arrogant.
If wishing worked, he wouldn’t let Liz go, and somehow he’d save her from burning to death in that bloody fire.