Trust Me (76 page)

“Irena,”
Creighton said, easing her out of his arms. “Who gave you permission to hug men like this?”

“Oh,
Cray, I am nearly eighteen,” she insisted. Sandra couldn’t help but chuckle as she watched the two siblings tease each other. The front door opened again as a very attractive woman, older than the one in Creighton’s arms, stepped out. Her smile was wide and friendly as she watched her two children.

“You’re
only sixteen and that still does not give you permission to be promiscuous,” the woman said, hugging Creighton’s neck in turn.

“Oh
mum,” the girl whined. Creighton chuckled hugging his mother, then turned and reached a hand out to Sandra, pulling her to his side.

“Mum,
this is Sandra,” he said, his arm wrapping around her waist.

“Sandra,
it’s wonderful to finally meet you,” Emma Ashford said, hugging her tightly. “We are all so excited about this wedding tomorrow. Please come in, supper is almost finished and we’ll all eat once your family gets here. Irena set the table.”

“Mum,
why do I always have to set the bloody table?” Sandra giggled softly as Emma, swatted the girl’s behind, chasing her into the house.

“Watch
your language or your father will bollock you for sure. We don’t want Sandra to think we’re all balmy, now do we?” Emma smiled and turned looking somewhat embarrassed by her daughter’s reaction.

“I’m
sorry ‘bout her,” she said. “She’s a bit of a blighter at times.” Sandra looked to Creighton as the woman walked back through the front door ahead of them.

“Welcome
to England,” he chuckled softly and kissed her cheek. “I’ll get you a book of translations. Just don’t lose your bottle.” Sandra frowned as she stepped into the house ahead of him. She felt as though she had just walked through a tunnel and into a third dimension. The only thing she understood out of the past two minutes was Creighton was laughing at her!

Creighton
held hold of her hand securely; closing the door behind them while Sandra glanced around the small foyer of the house. He remained quiet, interested in her opinion as she looked at the large wooden stairs that led up to the top floor, the dark walnut banisters and the rich blue and white floral wallpaper. She turned back to him as the voices of Irena and Emma continued to argue in the next room, but they were barely noticeable.

“What
do you think?” he asked softly.

“It’s
beautiful.”

“Come,
I’ll show you around while Irena continues to create.” Sandra frowned causing him to chuckle again. “Create means to complain, I’ll teach you everything once things settle down.”

“Just
help me through the next couple of days and I promise to be an excellent pupil.”

“Agreed,”
he smiled, pulling her into his strong embrace. “I have a few special words to teach you once we’re alone.” He kissed her lips hard, but all too brief and turned her around, patting her bottom edging her toward the sitting room’s arched doorway.

The
room was large, decorated in rich navy blue wallpaper with long silver vines winding around the boarders; small silver clovers decorated the width of the panels, and off white wainscoting adorned the lower half of the wall. There was a white brick fireplace with a two-foot high hearth and a light oak mantle. The furnishings were cream and dark blue floral patterns with two sofas and four comfortable wingback chairs and a square oak coffee table. A round wooden game table took up one corner of the room in front of two square windows that looked out onto the fields. An upright piano sat near the fireplace, while the wall between the picture window and entry held a built in bookcase, filled with books of different sizes and colored covers.

The
windows were encased in thick cream-colored drapery and dark-blue valances; two old brass wall sconces were lit on either side of the fireplace to offer the room a soft glow. There were two upright lamps stood in opposite corners of the room, dark and waiting to be used. The room was quite warm and inviting with portraits of the Ashford children decorating the wall next to the room’s entry; different ages and different stages of development. It was more than obvious that this was the choice room for the family.

“This
is really lovely,” Sandra told him, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her back against his chest.

“I
learned to play poker here,” he told her against her ear. “We get together once a month for Sunday tea and just hang out. Sometimes we’ll play cricket or football when the weather is good. When it’s not, we play games inside; cards, board games, that sort of thing.”

“Sounds
like a lot of fun.”

“It
is and you’ll get used to it, especially since we’re going to be living next door.”

“Do
you play?” she asked with a soft giggle, nodding toward the piano.

“Yes,
but not as well as Sabrina or Derek. My mum is very accomplished as well and she insisted that we all learn to play an instrument. Irena plays the flute, Andrew the guitar. I like the drums or saxophone more than anything else.”

“I
would love to hear you play some time.” Sandra leaned her head back against his shoulder while his lips caressed her neck, his tongue teasing and tasting the delicate flesh.

“Our
new house has a basement; we can some instruments down there and I’ll play for you.”

“I
like the way you play,” she giggled as his hands gently caressing her lower abdomen.

“That's
very good, because I have no intension on stopping anytime soon.”

“Here
you two are,” Emma said, interrupting them just as Creighton’s fingers began to travel lower, putting a halt to his actions, shocking them out of the other’s embrace.

“I
just wanted to let you know your plane has landed and Sandra’s family should be here in less than an hour.” Emma smiled at the stunned reaction of the younger couple. “Creighton why don’t you show your future bride up to your old room; you can get your luggage later, she can stay there tonight, and you will stay with Derek.” Creighton rolled his eyes and nodded, slipped his hand around Sandra’s and pulled her gently beside him, out of the room and up the large flight of stairs.

“Well,
that was awkward,” Sandra said, once the door of the bedroom closed behind them.

“That’s an understatement.
” Creighton grumbled as he sat down on the end of his old double-sized bed. “The last time I was caught with a girl, I was seventeen and the outcome was a whole lot different.”

“I’m
glad it was your mom that caught us. I’d hate to think what my Papa would do if he had seen you with your hands down my pants.”

“My
hands were not down your pants, yet and your grandfather has given you to me, therefore, I can do what I chose and he can’t say anything about it.”

“He
did not give me to you; he gave you permission to marry me. Either way, I doubt that he would approve of your perverted habits.” Sandra walked closer to him, giggling when he pulled her down to sit in his lap, his lips claiming hers.

“Why
can’t we stay together tonight?” she asked a moment later.

“Superstition
says its bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding. My mum is very old-fashioned and very demanding; she couldn’t have raised five children if she were a jellyfish. We’ll just have to be careful and not get caught. As for now, we do have an hour before we have to be downstairs,” he teased her, one hand capturing her hip, the other sliding up the front of her shirt to her breast. “I’m quite certain I can prove how perverted I can be in that amount of time.”

Creighton
laid her on the bed, stretching out across her as loud footsteps came thundering up the stairs, Irena shouting excitedly for them. She burst into the room at the same instant Creighton tried to crawl off Sandra, tripping over his own feet and falling on the floor next to the bed.

Sandra
had no choice; she erupted in a bout of laughter, Irena froze by the door’s entry and Creighton cursed verbally, but whether it was because they had just been caught, or because he had fallen on his ass, she wasn’t certain.

“Bloody
hell, you little nit!” Creighton growled at the young girl. “Learn to knock.”

“How
was I supposed to know you would be shagging on the end of your bed?”

“We
were not shagging…Sandra quit laughing!” Creighton snarled angrily as he stood, looking at the bright red face of his future bride, while she held her stomach, trying to control her hysterics.

“I’m
sorry,” she gasped, struggling with all her might to sit up; her ribs aching with the strain of laughter, her face moist with tears and her cheeks numb from smiling.

“What
the hell do you want?” Creighton snapped, turning his attention back to his little sister.

“Don’t
yell at me! Dad wants you to come downstairs; he wants to meet Sandra and Derek and Kristine are here.” Irena looked crestfallen as she turned and slammed out of the door, cooling Sandra’s amusement immensely. Creighton sat on the bed beside her, staring down at the carpet.

“She
didn’t mean to upset you,” Sandra said softly, her hand touching his arm more for her own sake than for his comfort. The tension that filled the room was stifling and she found herself fearing it, apprehensive to address him, but needing physical reassurance that he was not too angry.

“I
know,” he sighed, enveloping her fingers in his. “She just surprised me. I’m not used to my family catching me with a woman in my bedroom.”

“So
does that mean I should keep a closer eye on you?” Sandra teased.

“That
is the one thing you will never have to worry about.” Creighton insisted, caressing her bottom lip with his thumb. Sandra sighed contently as he leaned into her and softly brushed his lips against hers, his tongue slowly tracing the outline of her mouth before slipping passionately between her teeth. He moaned into her, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist, lifting her to straddle his legs, his hands gently massaging her firm buttocks.

“We
don’t have time for this,” Sandra insisted, her head leaning back as his mouth moved slowly down her neck.

“There
is always time for passion,” he murmured against her collarbone.

“Your
father and brother are waiting for us,” she moaned; her voice much weaker than she wanted. “And you need to apologize to Irena.” Creighton sighed again, lifting his face to look into her bright green eyes.

“I
will; I promise. However, this is going to cost you,” he warned her, capturing her lips as he stood up, keeping her legs wrapped around his waist. Sandra giggled like a schoolgirl, feeling the thrill and excitement of the moment burn through her veins.

“What
wicked ideas do you have in mind, since we aren’t sleeping together tonight?”

“Trust
me?” She nodded while he eased her down the length of him, her feet touching the carpeted floor. “Then let’s go downstairs and get this evening over with. I have plans to make.” Sandra laughed when he turned her around to face the door, slapping her bottom hard.

The
kitchen was alive with the sounds of laughter and voices, children running around the counter while their grandmother hurried to finish the meal. Two men sat at the small breakfast table; one older with grey hair and a matching beard, a faded blue work shirt hugging his muscled torso, a pair of blue jeans covering his crossed legs, his feet bare. The other man was much younger, his hair dark like Creighton’s, streaked at the temples with grey. He was clean-shaven and wore a dark-gray leisure jacket, white dress shirt and a pair of black jeans. The two spoke animatedly while a pregnant woman with short dark blonde hair poured coffee for them.

Creighton
slid his arm around Sandra’s waist, kissed her cheek and smiled. She was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed, her nerves tingling beneath her skin, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Relax,”
he whispered against her ear. “They are going to love you, nearly as much as I do.” Sandra sighed, a soft pink touching her cheeks and neck. They turned into the room as a small girl squealed happily.

“Uncle
Cray,” she screeched, running to meet the man who laughed, picking her up and tossing her in the air.

“Hello
peanut,” he said, wrapping his arms around her two other children hurried to him.

“Sandra,
this is my niece Traci Ann. Peanut, this is your new Aunt Sandra,” he introduced. Sandra smiled at the little girl; her dark blonde hair pulled back in twin ponytails at the side of her head, her eyes bright as she smiled at the woman.

“You’re
very pretty,” Traci Ann told her.

“So
are you.” Sandra couldn’t help but laugh as the man next to her was suddenly covered in children; a young boy wrapping his arms around his uncle’s waist, another girl, older than the first, joining her brother and hugging Creighton who in turn wrapped his arms around the two while Sandra took Traci Ann who lunged at her, hugging her new aunt’s neck.