Freya North 3-Book Collection: Cat, Fen, Pip. Freya North

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      ‘I must have left it in his bedroom,’ Cat said.

      ‘Oh,’ said Rachel, nodding sagely, ‘couldn’t he just have used his finger then, like a normal bloke?’

      It took a while for Rachel’s jest to filter through Cat. When it did, she roared with laughter, nudged her friend, all but leapt from the bus and approached Ben most jauntily. As they walked away, Cat turned. Rachel was standing in the doorway of the bus, cleaning the Oakley sunglasses she had lent Cat, on the rim of her T-shirt.

      Shit! Cat faltered, looking over her shoulder at the bus, Vasily! What were you going to say, Rachel?

       It can wait, Cat – don’t worry about it – it can wait. It was nothing.

      When Cat and Ben had disappeared from sight and the bidons were all done, Rachel cleaned the Oakleys once more.

      ‘Vasily, Vasily,’ she said under her breath, ‘what am I meant to think, let alone do?’

      A little later, Rachel did something she had never done. She went to her rider. Two of the team had come to her room for a leg rub, another had come for fresh socks but she hadn’t seen Vasily. Vasily probably didn’t need clothing or massage or to be disturbed, but still Rachel went to his room.

      ‘Hey,’ she said.

      ‘Hullo, Rachel,’ he replied.

      ‘Can I come in?’ Rachel asked.

      ‘Please,’ he said, holding the door and welcoming her. She was deflated that he left it ajar.

      ‘Can I do anything for you?’ she asked.

      ‘It’s a short Stage,’ Vasily shrugged. ‘I am fine, please do not worry.’ Rachel was standing with her back to the window, Vasily was leaning leisurely against the wall, the bed was between them. Rachel noticed that Vasily had, for some reason, made it.

      ‘OK,’ said Rachel, hovering, wondering if he’d forgotten, remembered or merely dismissed the day before. ‘About yesterday,’ she started.

      Vasily raised a hand. ‘Please,’ he said kindly, ‘do not worry.’

      Rachel regarded her feet.

       I’m not worried. I just want to know if there might be more from whence it came.

      ‘Don’t worry,’ she echoed, her fixed smile contradicting the darting of her eyes.

      ‘Oh,’ said Vasily dismissively, ‘I won’t. I forgot it already.’ He wondered why Rachel had suddenly cast her gaze away. ‘Rachel,’ he said softly, advancing towards her, ‘it was not meant to be. If I am OK with it, I expect you – my soigneur – to be so too.’

      Rachel looked up at him, he was close and lovely and she wanted to touch his lips with her fingertips. She nodded, not able to wrest a forlorn edge from her gesture.

      ‘You look sad,’ Vasily said.

      ‘I’m fine,’ Rachel said a little too loudly.

      ‘It won’t last,’ he continued.

      ‘You’re right,’ Rachel confirmed.

      ‘It won’t last, I will have it again,’ Vasily continued, his apparent contradiction distracting Rachel momentarily from the fact that he was fingering the buttons on her denim shirt.

      ‘I don’t think so,’ Rachel said, quite crossly.

       Who does he think I am? Some fucking groupie willing to dispense sex when he so demands?

      ‘Rachel!’ Vasily remonstrated.

      ‘What?’ Rachel objected.

      ‘I say it won’t last, I will have it again,’ Vasily said, ‘and you tell me no, that I won’t?’

      ‘You bloody won’t,’ said Rachel.

      ‘I don’t need bloody shit like this,’ said Vasily.

      ‘And nor,’ Rachel declared, ‘do I.’

      She brushed past him and made to go. Vasily caught her arm. ‘You think it’s not possible?’ he implored. Rachel looked at him coldly, her jaw locked with indignation and hurt. She snatched her arm away and stomped towards the door. ‘It won’t last,’ Vasily declared. ‘I will have it again.’

      ‘Fuck off, Jawlensky,’ Rachel hissed.

      ‘Yesterday meant nothing. You will see,’ Vasily proclaimed to her back, ‘I will take the maillot jaune in the mountains.’

      Rachel stopped stock still, closed her eyes and grimaced.

       You stupid, idiot girl. He’s a fucking cyclist. He was talking about a piece of bloody yellow lycra all along. Not you. Not kissing you.

      Rachel turned.

      And now he looks hurt and confused. And why wouldn’t he be? His faithful soigneur has just doubted his pedal prowess.

      Rachel went back to her rider and laid the palm of her hand gently at his cheek. ‘Oh shit,’ she whispered, ‘I didn’t realize. I thought you. I meant about.’

      Vasily tipped his head to one side and regarded her. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘you speak better for Vasily so he can understand.’

      ‘Understand this,’ said Rachel, standing on tiptoes and planting a small, apologetic but emphatic kiss on his mouth. Suddenly he was kissing her back, his tongue leaping around her mouth on a mission of its own.

      ‘Rachel,’ he murmured, wonderfully gravelly. He took her hand and placed it against his groin. She could feel him, rock hard. Rachel took his hand and placed it over her breast. Then she guided it under her shirt to her bare flesh, her nipple enticingly at the centre of his palm.

      ‘What do you want?’ she whispered, dabbing her tongue tip on the dimple in his chin. He encircled her with his arms, pressed his groin against her and moved his body gently.

      ‘I want to stay out of trouble,’ Vasily murmured into the top of her head. ‘I need to ride near the front today but not too hard. Tomorrow, the Pyrenees. Tomorrow, I am at war with Ducasse.’

      Cat’s job was not just easy to do that day, it was a true pleasure. On a glorious sunny afternoon refreshingly punctuated by a gentle breeze, the race headed out from Sauternes and through lines of the famous lime-green vines striping the land like corduroy. The route headed due south, down through Gascony to the Beam region and its capital, Pau; gateway to the Pyrenees, harbinger of the first mountain trials of the Tour de France but also a lovely old university town crowned with a picture-perfect fourteenth-century château. Cat was excited to be there; not even a nondescript modern motorlodge could dampen her delight.

      It was an easy Stage to report and she whacked out 500 words effortlessly. It was easy to work diligently when a certain euphoria tided СКАЧАТЬ