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Chapter One
Finn
On a sullen, bitter day in March, Lady Blaine Albermarle stood in the dock at Newcastle Crown Court to be told, through painful experience, what I already knew: that she was guilty of all charges against her. I stood at the back of the public gallery just long enough to hear the judge inform her that she was being sentenced to 18 years in HMP Low Newton at His Majesty’s Pleasure, then I quietly made my escape from the chamber before the uproar began.
Lilith
“Good result, doll.” Jay, my bodyguard, said. “The boss’ll be over the moon when I ring ‘im.” Both he and his twin brother Al were on loan from my friend Gabriel James, currently on a sell-out tour of America – or ‘Singin’ and Shaggin’ Duty’, as he had so typically put it. It appeared that his highly-publicised persona as my Knight in Shining Armour had done wonders for both his ticket sales and groupie collection.
“In the absence of the death penalty, it’ll do, I suppose.”
Jay held out my scarlet wool coat for me and I slipped my arms into the sleeves. “The paps ain’t goin’ to miss you, wearing this.”
“Well that’s the general idea.” I cinched the belt tightly around my waist. “Right. Let’s do this, shall we?”
With Jay’s comforting bulk at my side, I stepped out of the imperious calm of the courthouse and into a world of pandemonium. The imposing redbrick building stood on the banks of the River Tyne, and a knife-sharp wind blew across the water, driving a flurry of biting sleet into my face.
My lawyer had already released a statement that explained in no uncertain terms that I would not be making any comment regarding the verdict, so naturally the moment I appeared on the steps outside the courthouse, our path was blocked by a mob of reporters. Cameras flashed, and ranks of microphones were thrust at me. A hundred variations on Are you happy with… and How do you feel about… were yelled at me as though I might stop to give a civil reply as long as the question was hollered loud enough.
We were jostled and shoved from all sides, and the myth of professional conduct was entirely forgotten. I was by far the smallest person in the scrum and I had to fight against my asthmatic’s instinctive panic at the sudden enclosure. I told myself that I was so nearly there; a mere fifty yards away a black Mercedes parked by the quayside with its engine idling, ready to drive me away from this insanity, and all I had to do was reach it unscathed.
“So where’s your Finn got to?” a mocking voice called out. My Finn. I wanted to slap whoever had dared utter the name in such a familiar way. As if they knew him. As if I might ever reply. Jay clearly sensed my agitation and used brute force to begin to move us forward through the throng, creating a protective cage with his massive arms so I was as sheltered as I could possibly be.
“Probably down the docks, earning his fare home,” a photographer saidas he shoved his camera in my face. Without stopping to think I hooked my left foot around his ankle, and as the crowd surged again he tumbled to the pavement. His camera hit the ground at the same time, and several thousand pounds’ worth of Nikon’s finest technology shattered into fragments across the wet stone. “You fucking bitch!” the man howled. ‘I’ll sue your fucking arse off!’
I said nothing as Jay grabbed the flailing paparazzo by the elbow and hauled him to his feet. “You pushed her, mate,” he stated “I saw you. And that’s assault. Then you tripped, you clumsy twat. Now pick up that mess you’ve just made and piss off.’
A veritable orgy of reporters and photographers clamoured to get a shot of their fallen comrade, and Jay used the distraction to guide me safely through the throng. He opened the passenger door of the Merc for me, and as the catcalls and yells and camera flashes faded from the most determined of the scavengers sprinting alongside the car, I was finally chauffeured away from the mayhem. I took two welcome gulps of my inhaler then shut my eyes and leaned back against the cool black leather seat. There was only one person I wanted to be with now.
*****
Within fifteen minutes we were out of the city. Another ten and we had pulled up outside a neat, whitewashed country pub, surrounded only by trees, fields, and a few dozen disinterested sheep.
The clusters of daffodils that bordered the car park were still in tight bud, waiting for a little more warmth before they bloomed. In the sheltered haven of my garden in Spain the jasmine would already be blossoming, and not for the first time that day I ached to be back there.
My plan when I’d left hospital had been to take Finn and hide away in the calm and warmth of Santa Marita until all was well again, but that had come to nothing; instead we’d had mere days in my home town before returning to England for weeks of giving evidence, answering questions that had tried to dissect our very souls, and trying to stand fast in the face of it all.
A handwritten sign pinned to the door announced, ‘Closed today due to family emergency. Apologies to my regulars. Nev.’ Jay rapped his knuckles five times against the solid wood.
“Who is it?” a man with a strong Geordie accent called from within.
Jay smiled at me. “Special delivery for Mr Strachan.” There was the firm thud of a heavy bolt being pushed back, and the door opened.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the relative darkness of the room, and my first thought was that my plan had failed and he hadn’t got here, that he’d been caught in the same mêlée that I’d just faced.
Then, “Hey, you.” A soft Dublin brogue called to me from a shadowed corner, and my fears vanished as a ridiculously beautiful, long-limbed young man stepped forward to meet me. He had shared my life for nearly a year now, and he could still leave me without words when I so much as glanced at him. Jay left my side as surreptitiously as a mountain in human form could manage to join his brother at the bar, and I was finally alone with Finn Strachan.
“Hey, you,” I responded, and slid my arms around his slim waist so that my head could rest against his chest. “You got here.”
“It appears I did, yeah. Al had me spirited away before the wolfpack picked up my scent, and then I’m guessing your grand exit did the trick and stopped them playing ‘Chase the Pikey’ – we’ve been here the best part of twenty minutes, so you’re already two rounds behind. You’re not the last, mind – we’re still waiting on Ed to join the party.”
“I’ll catch up,” I said, and then, as Finn’s touch began to return the warmth to my chilled bones, I let out the breath it seemed I’d been holding all day. “Oh God Finn, we did it.”
He planted a gentle kiss in my hair. “You did it.”
“We can argue about that later. Again. Right now, just keep hugging me please, because I’m still frozen. Bloody English weather. Actually, just ‘bloody England’, full stop.”
“You’re so damn cute when you’re all posh and pissed off.” Finn gave me a grin that was still slightly lopsided due to the newest of his countless scars – a three-inch welt that ran down his left cheek courtesy of a near-fatal showdown with Coyle O’Halloran, Blaine’s pet thug. For a blissful moment we could pretend that we were just another courting couple meeting up for a date, flirting and joking and entirely without care.
