Sally clung to Matthew’s waist. Deafened by the roar of his motorbike, she thought how much she loathed London and if it weren’t too late she would have told him to turn the bike around and drive them straight back to Scotland.
Matthew slowed the bike, squeezed her fingers with his gloved hand, then steered into the usual parking place. A dank alley just off the main road situated mid-point between the Halcyon garage where he worked and the little terraced house in Brockwood Street where she lived with her parents—two roads away from Matthew’s bedsit. A place so grim, Sally only knew it from Matthew’s description. ‘Toll ifrinn! A hellhole, not fit for visitors … hardly suitable for human habitation.’ Sally locked her arms around him, hanging on to their last few moments together. She despaired at the thought there would be nowhere for them to be alone now they were back in London.
She waited, her arms still around Matthew’s waist, as he killed the bike’s engine and pulled off his helmet. He shook out his curls. She smiled, loving his wild hair—adoring everything about him. But now that they were here, even seeing his treacle-coloured lion’s mane couldn’t lift her spirits.
‘Home soon,’ he said, not smiling, his eyes full of concern.
Her stomach lurched as she thought of her parents waiting for her.
She said, ‘I’d better hurry,’ and fumbled with her helmet.
‘Let me help you.’
He focused on unfastening the helmet, avoiding eye contact, almost as if he was afraid of what he might see. She wondered if he could read her thoughts now that they were lovers. Had he sensed how truly terrified she was?
The clasp clicked open, and he lifted the helmet from her head. ‘There … you’re free, bonnie lass.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re very welcome.’ He tilted his head. ‘Shall I take you home now?’
Sally frowned. Hadn’t she already made it plain she must be alone to tell her parents? It would be a difficult conversation on her own, but with him beside her, it would be impossible.
‘Hey.’ He tweaked her chin, his anxious eyes scanning her face. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’m missing Scotland, that’s all.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘This alley stinks worse than ever.’
‘Aye, it does. But the bike’s secure here, and at least this way, your mum and dad won’t hear us coming.’ He flashed a boyish grin, and she climbed from the bike and began to pace up and down while he stashed their helmets in the bike’s panniers.
He said, ‘I’ve wanted to meet your dad for quite a while now, and it will be good to meet your mum again. Properly, I mean.’ He glanced at her, his eyebrows steepling in a half uncertain, half amused way as he added, ‘She might even let me get a word in edge—’
‘That won’t happen,’ Sally interrupted. His shoulders stiffened. She stretched a hand towards him, touching his arm. ‘I’m sorry, Matthew. Please don’t look like that. Don’t be cross and don’t try to change the plan. I already told you I can’t take you to meet my parents tonight.’
His grin had gone. His dark blue eyes searched her face, looking, or so she thought, for a weakness in her decision. She loved his determination, but sometimes she wished he was not so persistent—it was exhausting, standing up to such a powerful will.
‘Are you ashamed of me?’ he asked.
‘No! Of course not.’
‘Then let me come with you.’ He took her hands in his and held them close to his chest. ‘I want to be with you when you tell them about us.’ His brow crumpled. ‘I’ll be on my best behaviour. Promise.’
His boyish pout made her want to kiss him. It was always difficult to say no to Matthew, and he knew it … knew exactly how to get his way with her. A memory flashed into her head. They were back in Scotland. It was Saturday night. Their first night together in the holiday cottage. They were lying on the hearthrug in front of the log fire Matthew had set earlier, and they were naked together for the first time.
The beginning … a slow, tender kiss in front of the dying embers of a log fire, followed by frantic fumbling and breathless, wild laughing as their undressing became urgent. Buttons got twisted and zips stuck. Then the reverent falling to their knees, face to face, skin to skin, the firelight sculpting their nakedness. Her amazement at the smoothness of his skin. Like silk. The adoration in his eyes. Then his concern … it was her first time, it might hurt. But he’d been gentle and slow. So the pain had soon disappeared, replaced by sensations so amazing she couldn’t yet form the words to describe them.
‘Sally?’
Startled from her thoughts, brought back from heaven to the stinky alley, she watched her beautiful lover lean forward, softening the transition into the present moment by tidying a curl from her forehead. ‘Bonnie lass,’ he said, slight smile lines reappearing by his eyes, joined by an earnest frown as he said, ‘I promise I won’t embarrass you, and you know well I’m house-trained.’
All weekend they’d played husband and wife in the quaint stone cottage. Each night he’d set a fire in the hearth. He’d cooked their suppers. Good job too, because she couldn’t cook—something she had yet to confess to him. It hadn’t seemed necessary when he was so keen to do everything for her.
She sighed, and dragging her thoughts back to reality and London, she said, ‘I know you are house-trained. That’s not the problem. You are not the problem.’ She saw doubt in his eyes. ‘Matthew, it is not you specifically. I promise. It would be any man I brought home to meet my parents. They need preparation—time to adjust to the fact that I’m not their little girl anymore. So, I’m not introducing you tonight and that is final. I told you already in Scotland, it is best I speak to my parents about you on my own.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘I am,’ she said, folding her arms across her chest.
‘Aye. Okay.’ His shoulders sagged. ‘You win, lass. I’ll walk you to the top of your street instead. Is that all right with you?’
‘It is. Thank you.’ She rubbed his leather-sleeve, wanting to do more, wishing again they were back in Scotland. Then, straightening her shoulders, she said, ‘Time to face the music,’ and grimaced at the prospect, as they made their way out of the alley.
‘Here we go,’ he said, flinging an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close to his side.
She snuggled against him, hoping she would feel better when the next hour was over. She’d played down her parent’s likely reaction to her news, certain that if Matthew knew the truth, she would never have stopped him escorting her right into the O’Brien’s kitchen.
Both lost in their own thoughts, Sally and Matthew walked almost halfway to Sally’s home before he broke the silence and said, ‘It was over too soon.’
Sally glanced at him, hoping he only meant their weekend away. He was glaring at the ground, deep in thought, his expression dark. Was he still fretting about not meeting her parents tonight? Or … doubts crowded into Sally’s head. Her mother’s dark warnings—all the many things Maureen O’Brien had said in attempts to keep her daughter’s virginity intact.
‘Taken and abandoned, so they are,’ she always said, her already thin lips narrowing into tight little strips of red lip-sticked flesh. ‘It’s a well-known fact that the fella can’t help himself. It’s simply the way of men. Like little boys in a sweetshop, they are—wanting what they can’t have. Wanting what’s new, but when they’ve had it … it’s another girl they’ll be after, in case she’s better. So don’t you be letting a man mess with you down below until he’s put a ring on your finger with the pair of you standing in front of a priest, not if you don’t want to suffer the same fate as those poor misguided girls.’ Sally tried to muffle her mother’s persistent voice in her head, but she couldn’t stop wondering if Matthew was thinking of fresh new girls who might be better.
‘You’re quiet,’ he said, breaking into her thoughts.
‘I’m thinking.’
‘What about?’ His black leather boot scuffed the pavement as he turned to walk sideways, looking at her more closely.
‘Us.’ She thought she sounded needy, all her hopes and fears wrapped up in that single tiny word.
‘Good subject.’ Another boyish grin blessed her. ‘Are they good thoughts?’
‘Mostly,’ she replied, not wanting to share her fear that she was about to be dumped, even though he had placed a ring on her finger. After all, it was a fake ring and not put on in front of a priest. She felt for it in her pocket. It was still there. But Matthew wasn’t grinning anymore. Those piercing blue eyes of his were trying to hook out her unspoken thoughts. He stopped walking and caught her hand, stopping her from moving on, looking at her very hard. Was he about to tell her they were over?
‘Matthew?’
‘Hush, mo ghràdh.’
Regardless of passers-by, he pulled her into his arms, murmuring her name into her ear. Kisses skimmed her cheek until he found her mouth and pressed his lips to hers. Sally’s heart raced. This didn’t feel like abandonment. She responded, letting him deepen the kiss, lifting her hands to his neck and winding her fingers in his silky hair.
‘What does mo ghràdh mean?’ she asked.
‘It’s Gaelic for my love.’
She clung to him, longing to stay in his arms, but she knew she couldn’t. They might be seen, and she mustn’t risk anyone telling her parents … not before she told them about Matthew.
Her heart pounding at the thought of going home and confessing that she’d lied about being on a weekend with a girlfriend, she released him.
He held on to her.
‘My bonnie lass.’ His breath was warm on her cheek. ‘Talk to me … tell me what’s troubling you.’
‘I can’t.’ She pulled away and began walking again.
‘Sally, please.’ He took her hand and tugged her back to his side. ‘I know coming home is hard. Telling your parents must be scary. That’s why I want to come with you.’
She shook her head.
Under his breath he growled, ‘I wish we could have stayed in Scotland.’
Me too, she thought. It had been a wonderful weekend—a glimpse of what their life, a real married life together, might be like. The best forty-eight hours in all of her nineteen years on the planet. She’d never wanted it to end, but …
He cupped her cheeks, his work-hardened hands gentle on her skin, his eyes searching her face again.
‘Sally? Look at me, please look at me.’
Their eyes met, and he rested his head against her brow, gazing at her through his dark lashes. Her heart seemed to crush in on itself. He was so beautiful, and all hers. Wasn’t he? Didn’t his words and the last kiss confirm her mother was wrong?
‘I love you, my bonnie lass,’ he said, his worried eyes tracing her face again. ‘You know that, don’t you? You do believe me? You do trust that I’m serious about you?’
She touched his jaw, running her fingers across the roughness of his dark stubble. He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand as if craving her touch. Her heart swelled. For all his strength and masculinity, Matthew needed her love.
‘I know,’ she said, stretching up to kiss him. His lips, smooth and warm, opened to her, and she whispered into his mouth, ‘And I love you too.’
They kissed again, open-mouthed, tongues entwining, full of heat. Matthew clasped her head in place; she stretched on tip-toe. Still oblivious to passersby, he released her and pulled her close to his chest, holding her as if afraid she might melt away, and said, with body-shuddering longing, ‘Don’t you wish we could go back to Scotland, back to Gretna Green?’
‘I do.’ She looked up at him.
His face lit with joy.
‘Then let’s do it!’ He grabbed her hand and started back towards the dank alley.
She stopped him.
‘No, Matthew. We can’t. I’ve got to tell my mum and dad about us first, face to face, before we can do anything else. It wouldn’t be right to run away. That would feel like we were in the wrong, that I was ashamed of us. And I’m not.’
Matthew slumped, defeated.
‘I’m sorry, Matthew. You understand, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You told me when we stopped at Gretna Green.’
‘So, you agree with me?’
‘Aye. But I don’t like you facing them alone. It makes me feel like a spineless coward hiding behind a woman’s skirts. I still think I should be with you.’
‘You’re not spineless, and you are the bravest man I know. I know you want to be with me, but this is something I must do alone.’
‘Will you tell them tonight?’
‘Yes. Best to get it over with.’
‘Shall I come in with you—for a moment?’
‘No! You stay well clear.’
He moved close to her again, his height shielding her, so they seemed alone in their own little world.
‘Sally, please?’
‘No!’ she said, realising what he was leading to … again. ‘They’ll only rage at you and save their anger for me for when you’ve gone.’
‘Shall I wait at the top of the road? In case you need me.’
‘No. It’ll be fine.’
‘You’re sure?’
Any wonder he didn’t believe her, Sally thought, remembering the one and only time he’d met her mum. In fiery redhead fashion, Maureen O’Brien had reacted like she’d come face to face with Satan himself. So, no, Sally wasn’t sure, but she had to play the situation down if she wanted Matthew to accept her decision.
She stretched up on tiptoes again. Kissed him on his lips, then rocked back on her heels to look at him. ‘I’m sure. They’ll be angry because I lied and … ’ she paused, wondering how she would tell her mother that she had slept with Matthew.
‘And?’ Matthew prompted.
‘They’ll be disappointed in me. Especially my mum. She’s put all her energy these last nineteen years into educating me to be a good girl. She’ll probably call me a slut or similar. Tell me I’ve disgraced the family and say I can’t marry in a white dress because I’m not a virgin anymore.’
Matthew laughed. Then, seeing she wasn’t joking, he frowned.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. Your mother is such a quaint character, I can’t help seeing the funny in her.’
‘The next hour won’t be funny. You don’t understand. No matter how much I love you and wanted to spend this weekend with you, there’s still a part of me that feels guilty about what I’ve done.’
‘We’ve done nothing wrong.’
Sally didn’t miss the hurt in his voice. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I’ve been brain-washed by my mum. I know she’s old-fashioned, and you’re all modern and cool and think she’s funny.’ Matthew’s eyes darkened. ‘Matthew, there’s no point in telling my mum that people have a different attitude to sex these days and that I’m not a fallen woman. She’s from another age and culture. She still believes that sex before marriage is a sin that leads only to ruin. All her dire warnings about becoming what she calls a loose girl. All her efforts to keep me innocent until my wedding day were because she thought it was for my own good, and she’s going to be hurt because now I’m not her good girl anymore.’
‘You are, and you are not a slut. You’re my good girl. The very best girl.’ He pulled Sally to his chest, holding her hard against the leather jacket. She breathed in the smell of leather, travel fumes, and him—uniquely Matthew.
‘Sally O’Brien, listen to me.’ He tilted his head and looked straight into her eyes. ‘We might not have married at Gretna as I wanted, but you’re still my wife.’
She gave him a sceptical frown.
‘You are! In my mind, anyhow. And you always will be. There’s no one else for me, Sally—and there never will be. To prove it, I’ll buy you a fine engagement ring next week and make it official. We can decide when and where to get married and send wedding invitations and—’
‘Next week! Isn’t that too soon to send out invitations?’
‘Not for me, not if we set a date. But if you think we should go slower, then okay. I’ll restrain myself and be patient.’ He frowned, obviously not happy with being patient. ‘I’ll be the model potential son-in-law to convince your parents that I am not as bad as they think. And, for the record, you can wear white or any other damn colour you want when I marry you. Even purple! Or maybe green … green would be good.’ He leaned forward and kissed her fiercely. ‘I promise you, Sally. You are my love—always. Now, let’s get you home so we can tell your mum and dad we’re getting married.’
He never gives up, she thought. How many times have I said I must tell my parents on my own? And yet he was already on his way, full of confidence, striding out, so it was difficult for her to keep pace with him.
‘Matthew, wait! I said I’d do this … alone.’
He held out his hand to her, slowing his pace. ‘You can’t blame me for trying,’ he said, shooting a lopsided smile at her.
Trying not to smile back, in case he thought she was weakening, Sally took his hand, and they walked the final yards to the top of her street in silence.
‘You can go now,’ she said, stopping at the corner out of sight from home.
‘I could walk you to the door?’
‘No!’ She was firm. But still loved him for his persistence. ‘You go now. I’ll be fine.’ She kissed him once more, gave him a push towards the way they had come, and then turned the corner into her street.
All seemed quiet at home. No front room lights on, no open door or window with her mother on the lookout.
Legs weak at the knees, Sally walked on, sensing Matthew’s eyes on her all the way to her front door. She slotted her key into the lock and took one last look at him. He was there, despite her saying he should go. Still standing at the top of her street, watching her. He loved her. She loved him. The thoughts fizzed like a lemon sherbet. It was almost too good to believe. How lucky was she to find her perfect man, and in the Halcyon workshop, of all places? Life was strange. She waved at him. He waved back. Then she stepped into the hallway, calling out to her parents as she closed the door.
Alex circled the pavement, trying to suppress his anxiety. It was wrong to leave Sally to explain everything to her parents without him by her side. He looked at the neat terraced house, half expecting—even hoping to see the door fly open and Sally running to him. Should he leave as she said? He didn’t want to. What if her parents reacted badly to the revelation that she had spent the weekend with a man? Several weekends, he reminded himself. But only this last one in bed together. That was sure to be the critical detail as far as Sally’s puritanical mother was concerned. He raked a hand through his hair and slumped against the wall. He’d wait. He might still be needed.
Alex had planned to tell Sally his true identity when they arrived at the cottage—explain to her why, since arriving in London, he’d been living under the assumed name Matthew Black, but events had moved so fast. Faster than he’d planned. He’d lit a fire and cooked their supper, intending to clear the dishes and settle for a relaxed time in front of the fire … time to talk and share secrets. For instance, did she know her dad was in league with the criminal Arthur Halcyon? Connell O’Brien was, in fact, an ex IRA man skilled enough with weapons to be Arthur’s armourer. But then she’d slipped her arms around his waist when he picked up their plates, and his restraint had vanished. Dishes could wait. Everything but one thing could wait.
After their first frenzied lovemaking, he’d not been able to clear his mind long enough to talk. They’d stretched out on the rug in front of the fire. He wanted to make love to her again. Nuzzling against him, she’d moaned in such a needy way that he couldn’t resist, and he’d carried her to bed. Afterwards, overwhelmed by bliss, unable to express all the feelings in his heart, he’d cuddled Sally, holding her warm body close to his, thinking this wasn’t the right moment to tell her the truth. But tomorrow, he would … sleep had claimed him, and when he opened his eyes again, it was a new day.
He’d woken with the uneasy feeling something had been left undone. Sally was curled beside him. His heart contracted at the sight of her. He wondered if everyone in love felt this pain. Did Sally feel the same when she looked at him?
Looking down at her soft skin and auburn curls framing her pretty face, he thought when she opened her eyes, he must tell her who he was, especially if she agreed to call in at Gretna Green on the journey back to England. If they were to marry, he would have to use his real name, Alexander Matthew Graeme McKinnon. Alex, for short.
‘What are you thinking?’
He looked again at her face. She was awake and smiling at him.
‘I’m thinking about how great it is to love you and wondering if you feel the same.’
She blushed and ran her fingertips down his bare chest, setting off little starbursts in his flesh.
‘I do,’ she’d said, breathless. ‘I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t love you, Matthew.’ Ecstasy flooded him, as she continued. ‘I was raised to be a good girl. But since I met you, being good is impossible.’
He’d laughed and kissed her, asking between kisses if she’d enjoyed being a bad girl. She’d blushed again and confessed that being bad with him was better than she had ever imagined. After that, there was nothing else he could do but make love to her all over again and plans to confess were forgotten.
Alex drifted from his weekend memories and focused on Sally’s home. No sign of activity. He must have been waiting, leaning against the building on the corner of the street, for thirty minutes or more. Perhaps the lack of anything happening was a good sign. Perhaps her parents were more understanding than she’d expected.
He considered going to the door. Knock and wait to announce himself as the O’Brien’s future son-in-law, but then he changed his mind. An unplanned arrival might make a difficult situation worse. Patience—that’s what he needed now. He tried to content himself with the thought that he’d see Sally tomorrow after work at their usual meeting place—the alley. He waited another thirty minutes, then turned to go home to his hellhole, wishing he could turn back time to Saturday.
