Country Pursuits
Authors: Jo Carnegie
The gorgeous women of Churchminster know exactly what they want â a constant flow of champagne and the love of a good man. But faced with the likes of beer-guzzling farmer Angus, foul-tempered Sir Fraser and conceited banker Sebastian, their attentions are increasingly drawn to more
attractive
possibilities . . .
Meanwhile, when a part of their beloved village comes under threat from a villainous property developer and his bulldozer, the entire community is united by a different kind of passion. Can they raise enough money to save Churchminster? Will Mick Jagger turn up to the charity ball? Will good (sex) overcome bad?
Introducing a glamorous and unforgettable cast, Country Pursuits is a raunchy, rip-roaring, gloriously romantic début.
Contents
Jo Carnegie
To Mum, Dad, Ali and Joe
Thanks to my literary agent Amanda Preston for believing in me and inspiring me to write a juicy bonkbuster in the first place. I would also like to say a huge thank you to my wonderful editor Sarah Turner and the team at Transworld for their support and enthusiasm, which has turned
Country Pursuits
from a happy dream into an even better reality. Not forgetting the real life, very female (and very glamorous) DC Helen Rance for all her words of wisdom on police matters. Finally, thanks to Sotheby's Leonora Gummer and Mark Griffiths Jones, and Caroline Offord and Andre Farrar from the RSPB.
SEBASTIAN BELMONT ADMIRED
his naked body in the full-length mirror. Not bad for a chap of thirty-six, he thought smugly, his eyes taking in the broad shoulders, tapered waist and muscular thighs. He turned sideways to study his washboard stomach. Maybe to compensate for a lack of height (much to his chagrin he only reached five foot nine in his Ralph Lauren loafers), Sebastian worked out furiously four times a week. Squash on a Monday, weights on a Tuesday, a hellish ten-mile run with his personal trainer on a Thursday, and, on a Friday lunchtime, a ninety-minute Pilates session with an adorable little Spanish girl called Lola. His rugger-playing work colleagues might take the piss out of him for doing what they considered a girly activity, but they hadn't got a set of abs you could bounce coins off. Yes, it was fair to say Sebastian was bloody proud of his physique.
He was also very taken with his teeth, freshly whitened by a Harley Street dentist a week ago. Sebastian flashed a wolfish grin at his reflection. God, he was irresistible! Bright blue eyes dazzled back, made even more distinctive by the perfect
caramel tan he sported all year round, thanks to regular skiing and sailing jaunts. The teeth and eyes managed to deflect from a slightly weak chin, the only flaw in his handsome yet bland face. Sebastian ran a hand through his blond, slightly bouffant hair in a self-satisfied gesture and turned back to look at the bedroom.
She'd done a good job on it, even if it was slightly too boudoir for his tastes. The walls were decorated in toffee and mocha striped wallpaper, giving the room an extravagant yet intimate feel, and thick, rich cream curtains hung ceiling to floor from the sash windows, now filtering in the milky early morning light.
A black and white picture of the two of them laughing into each other's eyes stood in a solid silver frame on the dressing table. It had been taken several months earlier, on the terrace of the romantic five-star Ferreti hotel in Capri. Sebastian had whisked her off as a surprise on their first anniversary, and the couple had spent four magical days there, only occasionally surfacing from the penthouse suite to wander round the vibrant cobbled streets. The concierge, well accustomed to love-struck newly weds on their honeymoons, had exclaimed he'd never seen a more beautiful and blissfully happy couple. Sebastian stretched out on the bed like a cat basking in the sun, and smiled expansively at the memory.
Despite his luxurious surroundings, the room was in a complete state of disarray. Expensive designer clothes lay strewn across the floor, where they had been ripped off or stepped out of, and the dressing table's surface was covered with pots of
Crème de la Mer, Dior make-up and various Asprey jewellery sets he had bought her. She was a messy bitch, thought Sebastian. God knows how many thousands of sparklers there were just lying there for any old Tom, Dick or Harry to pick up.
Speaking of dick . . .
âSabrina!' he called out lustily through the en suite bathroom door. The sound of running water stopped.
âI'll be out in a sec, darling!'
He lay back and waited. Shortly after, the door opened, followed by a gust of steam, and Sabrina sashayed out. Fresh from the shower, her head was encased in a fluffy white towel and her damp, magnificent body was bare. Sabrina wasn't the kind of girl to cover up her assets. Almost as tall as Sebastian â even when he was wearing his Gucci shoe lifts â Sabrina was the kind of woman who made Range Rovers and BMWs crash into each other when she walked down the nearby King's Road. Endless tanned legs reached a pert, peach-shaped bottom and a tiny waist. Further up were a pair of even more pert boobs you could rest your champagne flute on. In fact, Sebastian often did. Sabrina's face didn't disappoint either: heart-shaped with full red lips, it had a delicate, haughty nose that turned up ever just so, and bewitching, green eyes. When she wore it down, her expensively streaked, wavy blonde hair cascaded over sun-kissed shoulders.
Yes, Sabrina was a bloody good catch, thought Sebastian, his eyes travelling lazily down her perfect form. All his mates and business colleagues told him so. Even if she was a God-awful housewife.
âCome here, sexy, I've got something for you,' he said, watching his erection grow upwards like the Eiffel Tower.
Sabrina giggled. âWe can't, you'll be late for work.'
âBugger work. Nothing starts without me, anyway,' said Sebastian.
Sabrina adopted that sexy come-to-bed look that made him just want to shag her brains out (not that she had many) there and then. She knelt on the bed above him and slowly lowered a tantalizing nipple into his mouth.
âMmmmm. God, you taste good,' said Sebastian, sucking and biting hungrily.
âNot as good as you.' Sabrina pulled herself away and travelled down his body, kissing it hungrily. Her turban fell off and wet hair spilled out.
âOh, Christ,' moaned Sebastian, as her mouth found his penis. She ran her tongue up and down the shaft, slow at first, and then faster and faster, like a snake flicking its tongue. Sebastian felt himself about to explode. âCome up here, you dirty bitch.' He pulled her up by her arms until she was on top of him, her neat Brazilian nestling against his throbbing cock. âRide me,' he instructed. Sabrina needed no further encouragement as she manoeuvred his penis to slip inside her. She began to rock rhythmically back and forward, throwing her head back and arching her spine in ecstasy.
âOh God, oh God,' they both moaned in unison.
âFaster!' said Sebastian urgently, gripping her hips and pulling her deeper and further towards him.
Small rivulets of sweat formed and fell between
Sabrina's perfect breasts. âYes, yes . . .' she gasped.
âOh God,' Sebastian groaned again. âKeep going, that's it . . . OH GOD!' They both let out a cry as they climaxed together and then Sabrina flopped down on top of him, her heart hammering against his.
âWho needs Ready Brek to start the day when they've got you?' Sebastian said huskily several minutes later, as he eased himself out of her and stood up.
âWell, I do like to wash and blow in the mornings,' she giggled. She pushed herself up on one elbow. âDarling, remember we're meeting the Coutts-Nobles at Ciprani for dinner tonight. Oh, and the garage called. The Porsche is back from being serviced. Shall I get them to drop it round?'
âYah, that'd be great,' he said. âMaybe you can compare notes . . .' He headed into the bathroom, and was just about to turn on the power shower when Sabrina called out. âDarling, your phone's going!'
âWho the hell is it?' asked Sebastian irritably, even though he knew the answer.
Sabrina reached across to the bedside table, looked at the phone and threw it across the bed, sticking her tongue out suggestively.
âIt's your wife.'
âHi, darling, how are you? Is Milo OK?' Sebastian rolled his eyes at Sabrina. âYah, yah, mmm.' He was only half listening as he started to insolently swing his now flaccid willy back and forth between his legs, making Sabrina burst into a fit of giggles.
âWho's that? Oh, it's just my secretary, Bethany. I
came, er, in early this morning.' Sebastian shot a wicked look at Sabrina. âMmm. Oh, I don't care, chicken or fish or whatever . . .' He listened again for a few moments. âOK, fish then, it's only a bloody meal!' Sebastian checked himself. âSorry, sweet pea, it's just been a tough week at work. I'm exhausted.' He shot another saucy look at Sabrina, lounging on the bed like a wanton cheerleader. âI'm fine, I'm getting the 5.03 train from Paddington tomorrow, I'll see you about seven. Love you, too. Bye, darling.'
Sebastian flung the phone on to the bed. âWho gives a flying fuck what we eat? Honestly, the old girl needs to get out more. Still, at least I'll get a good nosh-up this weekend.' He advanced on Sabrina. âYou, my dear, are stunningly gorgeous, but it has to be said that any man who ended up with you would starve to death.'
âI've always been quite good with meat and two veg,' breathed Sabrina provocatively.
Sebastian flashed his best wolfish grin.
âWell, Nanny always told me to eat my greens, so I'd better take you up on your offer.'
âWhat about work?' asked Sabrina.
âBugger work.'
NEARLY A HUNDRED
miles away in the picturesque Cotswold village of Churchminster, 34-year-old Caro Belmont put down the phone and sighed. She knew she annoyed Sebastian with her mundane little details, but she couldn't help it. Mundane was her life now.
She looked round the designer kitchen, spotless after Mrs Potts's morning clean. It looked like a spread from
Wallpaper
magazine. A huge, polished Aga that Caro hardly ever used dominated the room. The concrete floor was set off by sparkling stainless steel worktops, and exposed brickwork and chrome finishes gave the room a modern, trendy feel. That was the brief Sebastian had given the interior designer he had hired to decorate the whole house. Caro would have preferred to do it herself, with a more homely approach, but Sebastian wouldn't hear of it. âYou're exhausted from looking after Milo. Just concentrate on him and leave the rest to me. Besides, you know you're not very good at things like that, darling.'