Read Online Christopher's Medal by S.A. Laybourn - Free Book Online

head. “Where?”
    “Here.” She guided his hand to a small lump of bone.
    “Poor darling.” His lips lingered on the spot. “I’m sorry.”
    Waves of warmth spread through her. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I’m better now.”
    “Really?” He slid his arm beneath her.
    “Much, much better.” Grace reached for him, his skin warmed by the late morning sunlight. She glided her fingers along the curve of his shoulder and traced idle circles around a small mole on his back until he trembled and covered her mouth with his.
    “I’ll make you feel even better,” he whispered against her lips.
    Grace wondered how that could be possible but, when he shifted above her, she began to understand. Music drifted in from the living room. Christopher had brought some of his own CDs—older stuff that she had heard of and forgotten. He’d made copies for her and written down the tracks in a neat hand. She sighed when Christopher entered her, finding his way to the heart of her in a way no one ever had before.
    * * * *
    “Is there any chance you can get away for a few days?” he asked, afterwards.
    “I should think so. I’ve covered other people’s shifts often enough.” She wondered what he had in mind.
    “An old friend of mine from Sandhurst is getting married. I’m one of the groomsmen, for my sins. I want you to come with me.”
    “You do?”
    “I obviously can’t get through a weekend without you. I’m damned if I’m going to spend three days in a big, posh house without you.”
    “Big, posh house?”
    “Big, posh wedding, it’s at the bride’s family pile. It’s one of those occasions where the wedding party turn up on Friday night for dinner and drinks. Then the wedding is the next day.”
    “That should be interesting.” Grace let her lips trail across Christopher’s shoulder, tasting the salt of his skin. “I’m not very good with big party-type things.”
    “You’ll be fine. If you can ride one of those big, brown, smelly things at a flat-out gallop on a racecourse, you can hold your own anywhere.”
    Grace laughed. “Big, brown, smelly things? Are you talking about my horses?”
    “Yes, those things.”

Chapter Five
    Grace climbed out of the car and stared up at the house. ‘Big family pile’ didn’t seem an appropriate description for the four-story Georgian house, swathed in a neatly trimmed veil of ivy. It rose out of acres of rich, green parkland, glowing softly in the dusk.
    “Are you all right?” Christopher’s hand curled around hers.
    “Fine.” The broad sweep of gravel in front of the house was already filled with BMWs, Mercedes and Porsches. Christopher’s Peugeot was low-rent in comparison. Grace wanted to jump back in the car and head for Newmarket.
    She was glad of the way Christopher’s shoulder brushed hers when they walked toward the house, the way he wound his fingers through hers. They tightened slightly when they paused before the door. Grace wondered if there would be a butler.
    “Chris!” A tall girl, red-haired and smiling, opened the door. “It’s lovely to see you. Paddy will be so pleased.” She stood on her tiptoes and hugged him.
    Grace watched the reunion and waited.
    The red-haired girl finally let Christopher go and smiled at Grace. “And you must be Grace. We’ve heard so much about you.” She kissed her cheek—a swift, cool air kiss. “I’m so glad you could come. I’m Emma, I’m the bride.”
    “It’s nice to meet you.”
    “Come on. Everyone else is here. I’ll show you your room. We’re meeting in the drawing room for drinks at seven so you’ve got a chance to catch your breath.” Emma turned and ushered them into the house, toward a broad staircase. “How was your drive? I hope it wasn’t too dreadful. I know how it can be on Fridays.”
    Grace was glad when Christopher slipped his arm around her waist as they followed Emma up the stairs. “It wasn’t too bad. We’ve only come from Newmarket.”
    “That’s