Page 4 of No Going Back

“Not for much longer, Guy.” Simon lifted Ros’ hand to his mouth for a gallant kiss. “My fiancée has done me the great honour of moving in with me since her apartment went on the market just before we went away. My ‘draughty old place’ goes up for sale at the end of next week. If it sells as quickly as the estate agent thinks it will, we may need to impose on your good graces for a while.”

“You know you can stay as long as you like. Where are you looking?”

“Probably not too far away,” Ros replied. “It needs to be commutable for Oxford and wherever the guys decide to set up the new HQ for Spectrum.”

The security business was growing into a force to be reckoned with. As a consequence. Alex, Cam and Ryan were looking for a site where they could establish a lot more than just an office to meet and greet clients.

“Unless they make a radical change to their plans, I think anywhere within the intersection of a twenty-five-mile radius of Stonehaven and Oxford would fit the bill. Are you looking for something you can move into immediately, or a project?”

“Either. I have to admit, though, the idea of designing a place we can call our own is very appealing.” Simon slipped an arm around Ros.

The way she leaned into him filled Guy with a satisfying sense of family. He recalled a conversation he’d had with Ros shortly before she and Simon left for their vacation, and wondered if she’d initiated the discussion he’d suggested. Stonehaven needed a riot of children creating havoc before it turned into a dusty, decaying museum, and he was roaming the halls like a desiccated old mummy.

“If you’re really looking for a money pit, there’s a place about fifteen, twenty miles north of here you might want to take a look at. That’s if you want to take it on in addition to a new job and organising a wedding?”

“Why not?” Ros glowed with happiness. “It’s probably going to be months before we can get married anyway, so—”

Simon disagreed. “It doesn’t have to be.”

She raised an eyebrow in his direction. Guy knew that eyebrow of old. His lips twitched. Erring on the side of caution, he hid the smile threatening to erupt, and awaited her reaction.

She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. “Men! I swear… Do you have any idea what’s involved in organising a wedding?”

“A venue? A registrar? A celebrant?”

Ros shook her head. “Congratulations, you aced the theory, but the practical? Whole different ballgame. We need the registrar to be available on the same day as the venue and the celebrant, not to mention the string quartet, the caterers—”

“Whoa! Wait right there. String quartet?”

Guy clamped his lips together. A burst of laughter at this critical moment probably wouldn’t be received well.

“When was the last time you went to a wedding? We both agreed we don’t want to get married in a church, so we’re looking at the register office or something like a country house hotel. I am not getting married in a register office. Therefore, it’s going to be at a hotel. Hmphhh!”

Guy couldn’t hold it in any longer. He roared with laughter at the sight of Simon silencing his indignant fiancée with a kiss that made Guy wonder whether he should execute a swift diplomatic withdrawal.

As their lips parted, he was glad he hadn’t. The look Simon gave Ros was one of pure, naked love. Guy had no doubt he’d just witnessed a moment of deep, silent intimacy between a submissive and his Mistress.

“Guy, I have a favour to ask. I have to head over to Brussels on Sunday night for a week of meetings. Would you keep an eye on Ros for me while I’m away?”

Ros turned a laser-like glare on her husband-to-be. “Excuse me? Who’s the professional bodyguard here?”

Guy rolled his eyes. Some things never changed, and were all the better for it. “Close protection officer, and if I may remind you, young lady, you’re out of that game now.”

At least, she was in terms of active duty, and definitely would be when she started in her new role as Spectrum’s head of VIP security. She’d made the decision while on vacation, and had called to let Guy know a couple of days ago.

“Thank God.” The heartfelt comment came from Simon. “If she starts visiting potential venues while I’m away, please would you make sure she doesn’t do too much?”

“Simon, we’ve had this discussion so many times. It’s been months. I’ve healed well, I’ve got my energy back, I’ll be fine.”

Months since she’d been shot while rescuing Simon from the thugs who’d kidnapped him on the orders of a man he’d once called friend. Given that she’d almost died, Guy couldn’t blame her fiancé for wanting to wrap her in cotton wool.

“Besides, how tiring is it going to be, visiting a few hotels to see if they’re suitable for our wedding?” she continued, apparently determined to make her point.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she takes it easy. It’ll be my pleasure to chauffeur her wherever she wants to go. I’ll get to spend some quality time with her as well.”

“Do you mind? I am still here.” Ros folded her arms. Her fingers drummed her biceps in a tattoo that reminded Guy of the way a cat used its tail to signal an imminent fit of hissing and spitting. She was here, all right, and she wouldn’t let them forget it, either.

“We know.” Guy didn’t mean only in terms of her presence in the room. Having her with them when she’d been so close to death was nothing short of a miracle. “So what’s your plan for the next few days?”

“To exploit your hospitality mercilessly, of course.” Ros’ sparkling smile returned. “I thought we’d take it easy tomorrow—maybe go for a ride, and spend some time lazing around the pool. Simon has to be back in London on Sunday for the train to Brussels. I’ll probably check on the house while I’m there, and possibly stay overnight. I’m not sure yet. While he’s dealing with bureaucrats, I can make a start on the wedding.”

“You could always have the reception here, you know. It’s not as if we’re exactly short of space.”

“And have Heather rushed off her feet? Not to mention you’re living in cloud cuckoo land if you think for one moment Della would tolerate outside caterers creating havoc in her kitchen. The circus would drive you crazy. Besides, Heather, Rob, Della and everyone else will be honoured guests. I don’t want them lifting a finger—apart from Heather, if she’ll agree to help me choose a dress.”

“I take your point, and you’re quite right—she’d run herself ragged trying to organise everything.” Guy rose and picked up his cigar and glass of cognac. “Okay, I’m going to leave you young things to enjoy the rest of your evening. Nothing’s changed since the last time you were here, help yourselves to whatever, and I’ll see you for breakfast. Or not. Have fun.”

Suddenly feeling a good deal older than his fifty-two years, Guy headed for his bolt hole in the west wing. It wasn’t like him to feel so down, especially when Ros and Simon were not only visiting, but had brought good news with them as well. He could only put it down to their happiness being yet another reminder of how his personal life had gone so disastrously wrong.

He’d been thinking about Liz far too much recently, a situation he guessed had been triggered by Ros’ brush with death. Seeing her so happy brought home to him exactly what he’d let slip through his fingers.

A hard-headed realist, he knew it was no good wishing for what could never be.

If wishing worked, he’d turn back time.

If wishing worked, he’d tell his younger self not to be so damned arrogant.

If wishing worked, he wouldn’t let Liz go, and somehow he’d save her from burning to death in that bloody fire.