The Racing Driver's Wife Page 5

  Darcy smiled. It was something he'd always done. Cleaned her up after they made love. Except that last time when…

  That wasn't making love, forget it. She waited until Gael finished his ministrations and sat up slowly. Gael eyed her warily.

  "Okay, hit me with it, I can see the cogs whirring. What have I forgotten?"

  "I'm not getting into a racing car with you. Of any kind."

  He roared with laughter. "Well, not in a race, no, but don’t you fancy a whirl around the track in a two seater?"

  "Scare me senseless."

  "I'd kiss you senseless after though. And the rest."

  "Now there's an idea. I'll think about it. But first I have something to show you. Shove your shorts on and come with me." She grabbed a bikini from the chest of drawers and dragged the bottoms on. With a wicked grin she waved the top around her head. "I don’t usually bother with this, but if you think those photographic lenses are about…?" She cocked her head to one side in a questioning manner.

  "Definitely not about. But unless you want to walk around with me attached to your eminently kissable nipple, it might be an idea for a while. The spirit is willing, the flesh would like to be, and knows it isn't."

  Darcy made a great show of sighing dramatically as she fastened her top. "Follow me." She led him out of the room and into the airing cupboard. "Grab this pile of towels. Shove them on that chair over there." She didn't wait to see if he did as she requested before she turned back to the cupboard and pressed several buttons on the touch pad that showed in the wall. It was a matter of seconds to take out what she wanted, and hand it to a now towel-less Gael.

  "It's only a photocopy. The real one is still in my bag."

  Chapter Seven

  "It's a ticket," Gael said. Duh, state the obvious why don't you?

  "To?"

  He looked at it closely and began to shake.

  "Monaco? The race? Really?"

  Darcy nodded. "Really. After seeing you at Christmas, I dreamed of our meeting at the carnival oh so many times." She smiled at the memory of her damp wake up call the day he'd arrived to change her life upside down again. “I knew I had to face my fears and thought Monaco was a suitably scary place to do it. I've got one for Silverstone as well. If Monaco didn't send me into rehab, or screaming for the hills, I was somehow going to let you know I was there, at Silverstone."

  Gael handed her the photocopy back. "Well you won't need the tickets now…will you?"

  She bit her lip and frowned. His heart sank. He knew that look.

  "What?" Try as he might, he knew he sounded weird and needy.

  "I want to go to Monaco as me, not your wife. Just in case I freak."

  "And then what? Do you think you will?"

  Gael watched as she left the safe open, and said tersely. "Don’t move."

  She ran downstairs and was back before he'd had time to move.

  She thrust a small folio into the safe. "Where's your stuff?"

  "I'll get it."

  It wasn't until they were downstairs and sitting under the gazebo next to the pool that Gael returned to the subject of the next race. He'd satisfied himself that telephoto lenses were unlikely to be pointed in their direction—why would they—and followed Darcy happily (well, almost happily) into the garden to stretch out on two well padded loungers in the dappled shade. She'd ditched her top and the lack of tan lines reinforced her words that whenever possible she didn't wear her bikini top.

  "Do you skinny dip as well?" Gael realized there was so much he didn’t know about her. They really needed time to learn just who they were. "Or sunbathe naked?"

  "When I can. Do you?"

  He laughed. "When I can. Though perhaps not here at the moment eh? I'm finding it hard enough not to jump you as it is. A naked both of us wouldn't help." He held her hand and squeezed it. "Cara, about Monaco, you do what you think is right for you. But whether you choose to come to the races or not, can we be a couple again? Please?" He held his breath.

  "I'd like that. And thank you for understanding. I want to be with you, but I need to know how I go on first. Will it bother you knowing I'm there and not with you?"

  Gael considered her words. "Some maybe, but a lot less than knowing you're not there at all." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Will you stop with me?"

  "After. If I'm in one piece."

  Darcy didn't say if he was in one piece, for which he was more than thankful. "After all," she said and winked. "I've paid an arm and a leg for this ticket and accommodation. I might as well get some use out of it."

  "I'll get a pass to you before you go."

  Darcy returned his kiss and ran her hands over his chest. "Mmm, thank you. Now I wonder what happens if I do this." She bent her head and laved his nipples one after another. They hardened instantly. "Oh yes, and this? Her hand cupped his cock over his shorts.

  Races and accommodation at them was forgotten.

  Gael deliberately didn't mention paparazzi, Formula One, race days or anything even remotely controversial for the rest of the afternoon and evening. They swam, ate salad and creamy local cheese, drank wine and as the sun went down, made love on the balcony.

  Darcy sat over him, took him into her and grinned. "Well if the paps do have their lenses trained on us, we might as well give them something worth watching." She tightened her internal muscles and held him firmly as she lowered herself until he was buried deep inside her and then relaxed them to lift up and repeat the actions all over again. "I'd forgotten how much I love feeling you in me like this."

  He grunted as he swore his eyes crossed in his attempts not to come. "I'd not forgotten how you doing this makes me want to come straight away, as well as making me want not to come, so as to prolong the torture. Exquisite torture."

  "Well, let’s see how well you do." Darcy pinched his nipples and let herself rest on her arms before she carried on with the torture.

  Not very was the answer, although thankfully, Darcy succumbed before he did. Gael put one hand between them, found her clitoris and pinched, in the way he knew she liked.

  Like was a misnomer. She gasped, sighed increased her pace, shuddered and shook around him as she screamed her release.

  The sound acted as a signal he could do the same. Gael spilled into her within seconds.

  It took a lot longer for them to slow their breathing, calm down and eventually make their way to bed.

  To cuddle.

  "I'd forgotten how much I love this as well," Darcy mumbled. "I've missed our cuddles." She yawned. "Will you be here when I wake up? I'm not having a dream, right?"

  "No dream, cara. Just reality." He pushed her head gently onto his chest and smiled in the darkness as she nuzzled his nipple before she yawned again.

  "Night…" The next thing he heard was a snuffle and a snore.

  Content, Gael closed his eyes and slept.

  It set the scene for their time together. Swimming, talking and making love. Then bed, and the best sleep he'd had in years. They even managed a drink in a tiny bar up in the hills.

  On the last day they'd have together before real life resumed its frenetic pace and he had to leave, Gael woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of Darcy—he assumed it was Darcy—tapping on a keyboard. He headed into the shower and ten minutes later took the stairs into the lounge two at a time.

  "Hey." Darcy looked up, stood up and went into his arms for a kiss. "You're up early." She giggled. "In every way."

  He glanced at his shorts. As usual they were tented. "So it seems. The coffee drew me. What time is it?"

  "Silly early o'clock. I didn't mean to wake you, but I have a deadline. I thought I could write when you were asleep."

  "The bed's too big without you." He put her to one side and patted her bottom. "Write woman. I'll entertain myself."

  Darcy looked doubtful. Well, he deserved that.

  "After the coffee. Pity I can't go for a run but there it is. I'll grab some tins and do weights." He didn't want to spoil
their last day together until…he cut that train of thought off. He was not going to indulge in the whens and what ifs.

  Darcy poured two mugs of coffee out of the stove top pot, and handed one to him. "Use the gym."

  "Er, yeah. Shall I jog into wherever it is? Wave at the paps as I go?" To his annoyance there was still a hardy and persistent handful on the lane which led to his house. Not that it was a bother where they were, since they used a different route in and out, but he'd hoped to be able to show his home to Darcy.

  "Well you can, but I doubt they'd see you. It's in the back of the garage. The door round the back. The key's on the hook over there."

  Gael blinked. "You have a gym?"

  Darcy nodded. "Well, more like a few machines and stuff. The people I bought the house off were fitness freaks. There's an exercise bike and a cross trainer…oh, and a treadmill and a rowing machine. I think there are weights somewhere, but they could well be welded to the floor by now. I've never touched them."

  Gael snagged the key and tossed it from one hand to another. "If you're sure?"

  "Very sure I need two hours, now shoo."

  He shooed.

  Two hours later he left the garage, and locked the door behind him. Sweaty and happy, he made his way back to the house.

  Darcy was on the telephone speaking in rapid Spanish. She grimaced as he walked up and pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck, and raised her eyebrows as she indicated the receiver. Gael moved his head to listen.

  "Yes, señor so you say, but I say no. How can I give you an interview about a neighbour I've never seen? You say it’s that man, how do I know? No, you are not welcome, you're not coming onto my land to see what you can see, and if you try the police will show you the error of your ways." She listened for a second.

  "Oh someone's seen a man here? Good, that'll stop you barging in then. My boyfriend is a weightlifter with a side line of bouncer at a club in Benidorm. He was just saying this holiday has made him rusty. He'd love to have some target practice. Am I threatening you? Not at all, I'm making a promise. Trespassers will not only be prosecuted they'll be chewed up and spat out. Good day." She slammed the phone down. "Fuckers. He's the third. Someone is stirring. Oh and your phone's been buzzing."

  The land line rang again and with an impatient huff, Darcy pulled the cord out of the socket. "And that's buggered the internet."

  Gael looked at her grimly. "How soon can you pack?"

  "Two minutes. Why? All I need is my laptop and stuff and a change of clothes. Everything else can stay here."

  "Good, do it. Tam will be here in ten." He'd heard, and pulled in every favour possible. "Someone knows who you are. It'll not be long before everyone does."

  Hell, if that screwed their future up, he'd be inside for murder.

  Darcy didn’t stop to ask questions. Gael followed her upstairs, shoved the necessities in his case, and met her in the lounge a few minutes later.

  "What next?" She swung her keys on her fingers. "I'll let the management team know once we're well away."

  "You lock up, we go to the door by the gate to wait for Tam, slide in the car and head for the airport. It'll be straight to Monaco, but you don't need to stop there. Or if you want to, you don’t need to stop with me. Your choice."

  "I'm coming. This is sort of destiny, or high noon or karma or…"

  "Or life together. But believe me, if you can't do the races, no worries. It'll be hard when the children appear anyway."

  He waited. That was something they hadn't discussed recently.

  Darcy put her hand over her tummy and gave a wide, beaming smile. "Sheesh, I never thought of that. I'd better make the most of it now then. How many are we having?"

  "Who knows?" His phone chirruped to indicate a text, and stop the ‘how many’ conversation. "Tam. He pre-set this so he could press send when he got to the end of the lane. Time to go."

  "I feel like a thief stealing away from my own house, it's ridiculous," Darcy grumbled as she locked the door, set the alarm and followed him to the gate. "I want three at least, and we better have one of each or else."

  Gael stopped a few yards from their destination and turned around. "Ah, hell, cara. I'm so sorry."

  She started, and rushed to hug him. "I'd say not your fault, but it’s the man who decides the sex."

  "About the hassle, you lovable idiot."

  "Oh that? Do not ever think that. I love you, and it's some asshole who wants to be the next 'ohhh look what I found out' five minute wonder, who is to blame. I hope they get pecked to death by crows. Slowly, and very uncomfortably."

  Not that it was comfortable with her case digging into his spine, but Gael welcomed the sentiments.

  There was the sound of a car driving up to the gate and stopping. His phone chirruped again.

  "That's Tam. Are you ready?"

  "Sure am. Let's go slay the demons."

  Chapter Eight

  The music was tinny, the breeze nippy, and it made the notes ebb and flow. As she blew on her hot, non-alcoholic mulled wine, Darcy was glad she'd decided to spend her precious day off at the Christmas market, and not cleaning. The dust bunnies could wait. This one day of cold crisp air—albeit with unwanted hints of hot fat, and hamburgers—fairground rides, trinkets and gifts, excited kids and oohing and aahing tourists couldn't. It heralded the end of the year, and the start of the next. With Christmas day in the middle. Darcy adored Christmas and this year it was extra special. She'd decided to spend it in Scotland with the man she loved and not pander to anyone else. Selfish maybe, but oh boy was she looking forward to it. Their day.

  Darcy wandered by the stalls and glanced at the more than hot bod of a guy who stood behind a stall selling the most fantastic earrings. Now if only he came gift wrapped as well, he'd be perfect in my stocking. She sniggered to herself. Who was she kidding? Guys like that were firmly attached. With baggage.

  The only extra baggage she wanted was a pair of intricately carved wooden earrings shaped like racing cars and the tiny lives nestled inside her. Lives her husband didn't know about—yet. Don't kid yourself, given half a chance you'd take the stallholder as well.

  The guy behind the stall smiled and Darcy's body went to mush. Talk about sex on legs. Dark hair that curled over his collar, dark eyes that seemed to have golden fire in their depths and the sort of elegant hands you could imagine running all over you. He had enough red-hot sex appeal to set the Forth on fire, let alone a wee Scottish lassie, as her grandpa called her.

  "Hi there." The accent was definitely Mediterranean. "Can I help you?"

  Oh yes. Her mind went blank. What did she want? Apart from him.

  He stood patiently and watched her, as a faint smile played around his mouth and his eyes sparked in the electric lights dotted around the stall. It was the type of smile to make your legs give under you and your body tighten. The expression, 'if he played his cards right, he could have me', shot to the front of her mind, and stayed there. Again.

  "Cara?" Brandy and honey, whisky and wood smoke. All blended in one southern Mediterranean accent.

  Darcy would have laughed before then, if people said they heard music playing and nothing else, but she was damned sure the Christmas Carols blaring over the tannoy had changed to violins, and much, much more. Talk about déjà vu.

  With a jolt she realised the guy was waiting for her to answer him. "Oh er yes, those earrings please." Thank goodness I checked the price earlier. It would be too embarrassing if I didn't have enough cash.

  He wrapped them up deftly in tissue paper. His hands were elegant, with long fingers, neatly filed nails, and she noticed one elegant silver ring on his wedding finger. Almost identical to the one she wore, but larger. The watch was a Tag Heuer, and half hidden under the sleeves of his dark blue jumper. Similar to the one she wore, only larger. Not that those things told you anything these days. Rings could be worn by anyone, not just married men and knock-off fakes of expensive timepieces were two a penny.

  He he
ld out the package. "They'll suit you." He winked. "I can't wait to see you model them." The tone inferred the words he didn't say. Something along the lines of, like those and nothing else?

  Don't even go there. Think of the accent. Yep definitely Mediterranean, maybe Italy?

  He handed the parcel over, nodded as she thanked him and turned to a couple who waited patiently behind him.

  "False alarm, the man said. Too many doughnuts." The woman punched him and grinned. "Another month and you won't say that."

  "Time to hand over now. My lady awaits." Gael shook his head at the couple's antics and took Darcy's hand.

  They wandered toward the ice rink. "Looks good fun, doesn't it?" His well beloved deep male voice, with its ‘come to bed’ accent still reminded her of smooth rich chocolate, warm furry velvet…and sex.

  Darcy turned and looked at the tall, dark-haired man beside her. Her legs, as ever, almost buckled as her body decided mushy was the way to go.

  "Not if you keep falling on your tush," she said and could have kicked herself. "Oops, déjà vu again."

  He laughed.

  "That depends who picks you up. Are you up for being picked up?" He raised an eyebrow and winked. "In the best possible way of course. Shall we chance it?"

  Darcy shook her head. "Not this year. I've a very fragile and special present to give you."

  "You gave me that when you came to the races and cheered me on."

  "Well." She bit her lip and stood on tip-toe to kiss him on the lips. "You might need to get used to me not being there all the time. I've an idea the smell of diesel and overheated engines will make me queasy. The hot dogs are bad enough."

  Gael stopped dead, oblivious to the crowds who walked around them, and who seemed not to notice the world champion in their midst. "Say that again," he said hoarsely. "You mean?"

  Darcy nodded. "I mean, you're a champion in more ways than one. In three ways in fact."

  His eyes widened. "How… More than one baby?" He leaned on the barrier, his face pale. "Not just one? Two?"