Modern English, page 21
“And, if you want anything else from the bar, you’ll have to pour it yourself, because I’m off the clock,” Brogan declared.
“An open bar?” Vic raised her eyebrows. “What a treat.”
Emma shook her head. “It’s not like you don’t have one of those in every room of your house.”
Brogan grinned. “Don’t you love how she’s taken to calling your castle a ‘house’?”
“It’s social class, darling.” Emma affected a snooty tone. “When you’re as rich as she is, it’s not a limo, just a car. Same goes for castles.”
“Emma, my dear.” Vic played along, accent shifting into something more closely resembling a BBC commentator. “Let’s not share all the secrets with the peasants. We must maintain our position through an air of superiority, only throwing out enough crumbs to the masses as to prevent them from constructing guillotines.”
“Right. Right.” Emma tried to stay in character but cracked a smile. “I still forget about the guillotines.”
Vic sniffed the air. “It’s the scent of all your new money that clouds your thinking.”
“How do you know it’s not my new money?” Sophia asked, wanting to get in on some of the humour. She’d seen Vic tense so many times about her wealth or responsibility, it felt good to poke a little fun at themselves.
“I know it’s not mine,” Brogan said amiably.
“Now, now, I saw a young woman tip you rather handsomely last time I was in here,” Vic teased. “Maybe if you rolled up your sleeves and showed off those sailor’s biceps you have—”
“No,” Emma cut in. “Those are for me, and me only.”
“Sad. They are rather impressive,” Vic mused with a playful wink at Sophia.
“It hardly seems fair that everyone else has seen them but me,” Sophia pouted, but she snuggled a little closer to Vic, resting her head on her shoulder.
“Maybe you’ll have to stick around long enough to go sailing with us sometime,” Emma offered. “Brogan has a ‘sun’s out, guns out’ policy.”
“What’s with you Americans and your gun references?” Brogan asked.
Emma pointed across the table. “Vic has more guns than any American I know.”
“Yes, but we keep the majority of our arsenal in the armoury.”
They all stared at her as if waiting for her to realise that wasn’t exactly a logical explanation or even a thing normal people said.
“What?” she asked, and the rest of them finally fell into a fit of giggles.
God, it felt good to laugh. Not just for a second, or at a single joke, but as an extended state of mind.
Was Vic always this way with these people, or had the anger and urgency of the last two days precipitated a sort of break in her? Perhaps it was both. Sophia couldn’t help but wonder if this evening had been more than a simple date on the sly.
As Vic casually draped an arm around her shoulders, she got the sense that tonight was a coming out of sorts, or maybe something akin to introducing Sophia to her true family. She certainly understood the importance of a family of choice, at least theoretically, though she’d yet to establish one of her own. On some level that made it feel all the more important that Vic included Sophia in hers, at least for one evening.
She settled into the crook of Vic’s arm as the three locals argued good-naturedly about the best place to get scones.
“It’s got to be Warkworth,” Emma said. “I’ve done exhaustive research on the subject, and nothing has beaten them.”
“You might have an emotional attachment clouding your judgement,” Brogan said, then for Sophia’s benefit added, “That’s where I took her on one of our first dates.”
“Then where would you vote for?” Emma asked.
“I think yours are the best in town.” Brogan punctuated her answer with a quick kiss on Emma’s cheek.
Emma rolled her eyes without actually managing to seem exasperated. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“No biases there.” Vic piled on.
“Then who would you say does them best?” Brogan asked Vic.
“Your mum.”
Both Emma and Brogan’s mouths dropped as they stared at her for a few seconds before dissolving into laughter again.
“Did you just make a ‘your mom’ joke?” Sophia asked, craning her neck up to stare at Vic.
“Your Ladyship,” Emma gasped in mock horror. “I never knew you had such common vulgarity in you.”
“I did.” Sophia laughed.
Vic’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red. “I didn’t . . . I wasn’t . . . bloody hell, I was dead serious. Brogan’s mother, who’s a fine and upstanding member of the community, also happens to make some of the best scones I’ve ever eaten anywhere.”
The others were still laughing too hard to care about the defence, but Sophia shrugged. “I liked it better when I thought you were being—”
Their conversation was interrupted by a jarring blare coming from somewhere on Brogan’s body.
“Aw, shite.” Brogan jumped up and patted along her pants.
Emma groaned but managed to extract a phone from her wife’s back pocket.
Brogan took one look at the screen, and her shoulders fell. “Duty calls.”
“Go,” Emma said firmly, though her face had gone a little pale. “I’ll lock up.”
Brogan leaned down to stare into her eyes. “I’m sorry, love.”
Emma swallowed whatever words might have been pushing up and kissed her so soundly Sophia looked away until she heard her say, “No apologies. Just come home.”
“I love you,” Brogan said.
“And I love you.”
“What’s happening?” Sophia stage-whispered as curiosity finally overtook her.
“Lifeboats—” Brogan started. “I have to cut our evening short. It was a pleasure to meet you, Sophia.”
“Lifeboats?” she homed in on the part that made the least sense.
“I’ll explain,” Vic said, then turning to Brogan, added a sincere and serious, “Thank you.”
“Aye.” Brogan nodded. “And you.”
Then Brogan bolted out the door.
The three of them sat in silence for a long, heavy moment before Emma finally pushed back from the table. “I could use another drink. Would anyone care to join me?”
Vic nodded, and turned to Sophia, who still had no idea what was happening, but she got the sense it warranted more alcohol. “Sure, top me off.”
Emma collected their glasses and headed around the bar.
“Are you going to tell me what the hell just happened?” Sophia sat up and searched Vic’s eyes. “’Cause it feels like someone died.”
“Someone may have. At the very least someone is in grave danger, and Brogan has gone to help,” Vic explained solemnly.
“She’s like a volunteer firefighter or something?”
“No, she mans the lifeboats.”
“And we’re back to the part that needs more explaining.”
“Most of coastal England has these sort of lifeboat brigades,” Emma said as she returned with their drinks. “You’re not far off with the volunteer firefighter comparison, but this is like a volunteer Coast Guard, and they take emergency calls all along this section of the North Sea.”
“What kind of calls?”
“Could be anything from a disabled fishing trawler to someone swept up in a current. This time of year and time of night, it’s likely to be some tourist who got out too far and couldn’t get back.”
“Or maybe a bachelor party on a boat where someone’s had too much to drink and done something dangerous,” Vic suggested. “Actually, either way, someone’s done something dangerous. You don’t call out the lifeboats for anything a first aid kit could fix.”
“And when someone does something dangerous on the water around here, it invariably puts people like Brogan in danger.” Emma sipped from her glass, and her hand trembled as she set it back down, but her voice remained steady. “She knows these waters better than anyone, and thanks to Vic she’s got the safest, most modern lifeboat on the market.”
“It’s the least I could do,” Vic said, her cheeks a little pink, either from embarrassment or maybe the alcohol, as she was taking heavier swigs than she had earlier. “I wish I could go with them.”
“I know.” Emma’s expression tightened. “We all know.”
Vic shook her head. “No one else knows. They all see me as sitting up on my throne throwing a little money at a problem, so I don’t have to actually care.”
“You did more than throw a little cash around,” Emma said firmly, then turning to Sophia added, “Our fundraising efforts came up short two years in a row, and the government slashed the budget again, but Vic came through for us and provided the funds to buy not only one, but two new lifeboats.”
“Wow. That’s generous of the estate,” Sophia said, “especially given what you told us about the castle barely breaking even on upkeep these days.”
“It would’ve been a sizeable gift from the duke,” Emma admitted, “but it wasn’t from the duke or the estate. The money came from Vic’s personal trust, the one she’ll have to live on if she loses her title.”
“Vic,” Sophia started, then stopped, not sure where she intended to go. Was she really about to tell a rich woman she shouldn’t donate money to save people’s lives? She didn’t get the chance to decide before Vic waved her off.
“What’s the use of having money if I can’t use it to help the people who matter? It’s all worthless if you don’t do something worthwhile with it.”
“You know I agree with you on that point,” Emma said. “I only meant to point out that you matter, too. You do a lot of good.”
“Not enough.” Vic’s jaw tightened. “Not as much as people like Brogan who put their lives on the line in frigid seas to save strangers. Not nearly as much as I would like to do if I could.”
“You can’t get on the boats, Vic.” Emma’s tone made Sophia suspect they’d had this talk before.
“No one moves as quickly or speaks as freely when I’m around,” Vic explained. “I’d only slow them down.”
“And so would I,” Emma said. “Brogan is so appreciative of what you—”
“No,” Vic cut her off. “I don’t need anyone’s appreciation, and I didn’t do it for Brogan.”
“You didn’t?” Sophia asked.
“Well, not completely for her. Brogan is my friend, and that matters, but there are a lot of other people on those boats tonight, and there are people in the water, and people waiting up, praying for their safe return, and they are all my people. I bear a responsibility to every one of them.”
Sophia took her hand, wanting desperately to soothe the anguish in her voice.
“I’m fine,” Vic said quickly. “I’m sorry I snapped. Emma, forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive. You’re entitled to your emotions.”
Vic snorted softly. “Never mind my emotions, how are you doing?”
Emma smiled faintly. “I’m getting used to this. It’s part and parcel of the woman I married. A part of me will always hate it when she does these things, but a much bigger part of me loves her for being the kind of person who does.”
Vic stared into her glass. “I could not love thee dear, so much, loved I not honour more.”
Sophia stared at her, trying to process the statement, and who it referred to. She turned to Emma for some clarity, but she only shrugged.
“Richard Lovelace,” Vic finally said.
“The poet?” Emma laughed.
“Because of what you said about hating that Brogan has to go but loving that she is the kind of person who—” she looked around as if waiting for someone else to finish. “She loves honour more than anything, and if she didn’t, she wouldn’t be the person worth loving as much as you— god, what do they teach you all in American schools?”
They both burst out laughing again.
“Sorry,” Emma said without sounding sorry. “We didn’t go to prep schools, and you don’t hold your alcohol as well as you think you do if you’re drunk-quoting cavalier poets. Sophia, I think it’s time you get her to bed.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Sophia admitted, not sure if she wanted to kiss Vic sweetly on the forehead for that little bit of sentimentality, or thrash her for being the kind of person who spent her own nest egg because she felt survivor’s guilt over not being on a lifeboat herself. “Sadly, I’m totally unfit to drive a Land Rover on the left side of country roads, even when completely sober, which I no longer am.”
“No worries.” Emma rose from the table and carried their glasses back to the bar. Then reaching up, she grabbed a key. “Vic already reserved a room upstairs for tonight.”
“She did?” Sophia turned to Vic. “You did?”
Vic nodded. “I’d intended it to be more romantic than you pouring me into bed.”
Sophia smiled slowly as her heart rate shifted from sweet-kiss territory and began to beat a little faster. “Don’t worry, Your Ladyship. Apparently, we’ve got all night.”
••••
“I’m honestly not inebriated,” Vic said as they pushed open the door to their room. Surveying the cosy little attic charm of sloped roofs and pitched dormers lined in exposed Edwardian beams, she couldn’t deny the reasons why the Raven served as a favourite getaway for so many city dwellers from London to Edinburgh. The sense of being ensconced in a warm and protective sanctuary offered a stark contrast to her own home.
“I know you’re not.” Sophia kissed her on the mouth as she kicked the door closed behind them. “If you can handle your father’s G&T’s you aren’t going to fall prey to four hard ciders over the course of five hours.”
“Then why did you feel the need to help me up the stairs?”
“Maybe I wanted an excuse to touch you a little sooner.” Sophia illustrated her point by sliding her hands from Vic’s hips up and over her chest.
“You needn’t have waited. Surely you know by now you can have me anywhere and anytime you wish.”
Sophia’s tone turned pensive. “Sure, let’s pretend that’s true for one more night.”
Vic opened her mouth, but Sophia silenced her with another kiss, this one deeper, more soulful. Running her hands up over her shoulders, she tangled skilled fingers in Vic’s long hair, and used her tender strength to hold them together.
Vic luxuriated in the desire building between them. The fire burned as hot as ever, but without the explosion of their earlier encounters she found herself able to better appreciate the warm glow of heat spreading through her.
They broke apart once more to smile at each other, almost bashful in the awareness of their familiarity. So many times over the last few weeks they’d collided in blind lust, but tonight she wanted to see Sophia clearly. “You’re beautiful.”
Sophia’s eyes ran over her body in response before her gaze flicked over her shoulder. Vic turned to follow the direction, surveying the large bed draped in a feather-down duvet.
Then Sophia’s hands were on her face, pulling her back, staring into her eyes just one extra second before bringing their mouths together with that gentle, insistent pressure. Vic felt it to her core, the need pulling at them now. She slid her fingers under Sophia’s jacket, easing it back slowly, teasing the sides of her breasts through the thin cotton undershirt before continuing up to caress two strong shoulders. She dug her nails into the exposed skin, enjoying the yield of those tight muscles as she slid the leather down Sophia’s arms.
She tried to drape the jacket neatly over a chair back, but at that moment Sophia swept her tongue along Vic’s in the most deliciously possessive way, causing her knees to buckle. Sophia took the opportunity to ease her back onto the bed.
Vic accepted the new position gratefully and reached down to unzip her boots.
“Let me,” Sophia whispered, catching Vic’s foot in her hand.
Vic had to lean back to accommodate Sophia’s height as she remained standing. She ran both hands down Vic’s leg until she reached the point where black suede met mid-calf.
“Have I mentioned how much I like this relaxed appeal you’re exuding tonight?” Sophia asked as she pulled the zipper slowly.
Vic shook her head, mesmerised by her darkening pupils, her knowing touch, the low timbre of her voice.
“I should have.” Sophia tipped up the heel of the low boot with one hand and caught Vic’s foot with the other as it slipped free. She massaged the arch with deliberate circles before removing her sock and massaging a little more. “I didn’t think I could find anything more attractive than those moments when you turn on your commanding persona with all your regal glory, but it turns out I was wrong.”
Vic arched an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I must have misheard. I thought you admitted to being wrong.”
The right side of Sophia’s mouth curled up. “Maybe unaware would be a more apt descriptor.”
She gently lowered Vic’s foot before releasing it.
Vic let out a little groan at the loss of contact. The disappointment dissipated, though, as Sophia sank rather gracefully to her knees. Vic watched, transfixed, as Sophia brought her other shoe to her chest. Then she kneaded her way up Vic’s leg before working back down her thigh and calf once more.
“You see,” Sophia continued, “how am I supposed to know how alluring I find a side of you I’ve never seen before?”
Vic struggled to keep up with the conversation through her increasingly insistent hum of arousal.
“Thank you for bringing me here tonight.” Sophia took a more direct approach. “Thank you for trusting me with the people you trust.”
A new emotion spread through Vic’s chest, or maybe it was a deeper level of an emotion that had been building in her for a long time.
“I would say you’re a different person when you’re relaxed and open, but you’re not. You’re the same person I’ve been attracted to all along, only more so.”
“More so?”
She unzipped Vic’s remaining boot, pulling it and the sock off, but instead of rising to her feet, she rubbed one hand up each of Vic’s legs. “More than I thought possible, which is saying a lot. You’re very sexy in that total package kind of way.”
