The Promise of Change - By Rebecca Heflin Page 0,43

melted against him on a sigh. Raising her arms, she draped them around his shoulders, her fingers caressing his neck.

He shivered when her fingers found the hair at the nape of his neck. Her soft moans nearly brought him to his knees. He pulled back, looked into her face, her eyes closed, expression all dreamy. “Sarah. Sarah?”

“Hmmm.”

“Open your eyes. Look at me.” He gave her a gentle shake.

She reluctantly opened her eyes, a sexy smile flirting with the corners of her mouth. “Sorry, I momentarily lost all higher brain function.”

Chuckling to cover his own similar reaction, he draped his arm around her shoulder and started down the hill. They walked in silence for a pace, each trying to recover the power of cognition.

“What sport?” he asked, once the blood returned to his brain.

“I’m sorry . . .”

“What sport did you play in school?”

“I crewed in high school and college.”

His brows shot up in surprise. He’d expected gymnastics, or cheerleading. Something a little more . . . girly he supposed.

“What about you, did you participate in a sport?”

“My brother and I played rugby.”

“Tough sport . . . I mean, I don’t know that much about it, but from what I’ve seen it looks more dangerous than American football.”

“Yes. That’s how I got this scar,” he said, pointing to a small scar underneath his chin. “One of these days he’ll pay for it.” He wasn’t joking.

“Your brother did that?” she asked in surprise.

“We’re very competitive.” There was a slight edge to his voice.

They drove back to Oxford in a subdued atmosphere.

She wasn’t looking forward to the lonely evening ahead.

He wasn’t looking forward to the family meeting.

A short time later, Alex walked Sarah into the inn’s lobby. “I’m sorry I’m leaving you to dine alone. I had intended to have an early dinner with you, but we tarried at Blenheim longer than I expected—not that I minded.” He smiled, but the light never reached his eyes. “It was a wonderful way to spend the afternoon.”

“Thank you for such a lovely day.” She hesitated, not sure what she should do. Talk about mixed messages, first he tells her not to read anything into the relationship, then he kisses her to the point of disorientation.

She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Instead, he took her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

Pulling back so that his face remained just inches from hers, he said, “The pleasure was all mine. Tomorrow at five.” He kissed her once again before he turned and walked away.

Chapter 14

“You’re late.”

“My apologies, Grandmother, but I had a late meeting in London.” Robert Fraser bussed his grandmother’s cheek before taking a seat at the table in a small parlor reserved for intimate family meals. He shook out his napkin and placed it on his lap, while the footman filled his wineglass. “Some of us do have schedules to keep.”

Alex ignored his brother’s dig. “Good evening to you, too, Robert. So good to see you.” Alex’s mouth turned up into a sardonic smile.

“Boys, do try to behave, at least through dinner,” Lady Clara admonished.

“Have you seen the latest tabloid articles? Here, let me oblige you.” Robert rose from his seat and walked to his briefcase, pulling out a newspaper, before sticking it beneath Alex’s nose.

“I try not to read those rags. I suggest you do the same. They really are a waste of your money.” Taking the paper, Alex tossed it on the table.

“My secretary feels an overwhelming need to keep me informed,” Robert said, taking a bite of his fish.

“You should be happy. My relationship with Clarice is over. No more potential for tainting the Sutherland bloodlines with a Lib-Dem.”

His brief relationship with the Prime Minister’s daughter had ended, much to his brother’s relief. Of course, if her father had been from the right side of the aisle, quite literally, Robert would likely have encouraged the relationship. The rags were having a heyday with the story of their ‘break-up,’ prompting Alex to take an unplanned holiday in Oxford.

The morning he and Sarah went to Stonehenge, he’d told her he’d run into an old friend, but actually, he’d run away from a tabloid reporter. Although the relationship had ended amicably, that didn’t prevent the tabloids from making up all manner of stories about their ‘tumultuous relationship.’

“What would make me happy is for you and your . . . girlfriends to stay out of the tabloids.”

“Do you think I go around waving my arms at tabloid photographers and reporters