The Secret Virgin

‘I hate to interrupt this moving reunion—’ the sarcasm in Jonathan’s tone completely belied his words ‘—but could one of you point me in the direction of a public convenience?’

Terry gave Tory an ‘is he with you?’ look, before answering the other man. ‘Over there, mate.’ He waved in the direction of the Grandstand.

‘Thank you.’ Jonathan gave a terse nod, his face set in grim lines as he strode off in the direction indicated.

‘Friend of yours?’ Terry said meaningfully.

‘Sort of,’ Tory replied, watching Jonathan until he disappeared into the Gents. ‘I don’t think he’s too impressed with our TT course,’ she understated, not sure that Jonathan hadn’t excused himself so that he could be sick! ‘If he isn’t back in ten minutes, perhaps you had better go and see if he’s all right,’ she suggested.

Terry chuckled. ‘He’s American, isn’t he?’

‘Mmm,’ she confirmed vaguely, feeling slightly guilty that she hadn’t realised Jonathan wasn’t enjoying the ride as much as she was. ‘How are Jane and the family?’ She changed the subject as she turned back to Terry.

‘All well,’ he responded. ‘We all missed you at the wedding yesterday.’

As her cousin—in fact, Denise’s older brother—of course Terry and his family would also have been at the ceremony. ‘I’m sorry I missed it, too,’ she said, not altogether truthfully. ‘But I had—other commitments.’

That ‘commitment’—she was glad to see!—was making his way back to them through the crowd at this very moment, no longer looking quite as green as he had when Tory had first looked at him after their ride.

‘How is Aunty Thelma today?’ Terry enquired.

‘Hobbling about,’ Tory assured him, happier now that she knew Jonathan wasn’t collapsed in a heap somewhere. ‘You know Mum,’ she opined, ‘you can’t keep her down for long!’

‘That’s true,’ Terry acknowledged affectionately. ‘I have to say,’ he went on thoughtfully as he gave the approaching Jonathan McGuire a glance, ‘he’s a definite improvement on the other one you brought home.’

The ‘other one’, Tory knew, being Rupert! But then Rupert, with his rakish London sophistication, on the one, never to be repeated occasion he had accompanied her to the island, hadn’t set out to win any points for charm. He had been deliberately condescending, to her family and friends alike.

But, by the same token, Jonathan McGuire was not someone she had brought home!

‘So, what do you think of our TT course?’ Terry turned to ask the other man as he rejoined them, giving Tory no opportunity to refute her cousin’s mistaken impression concerning her relationship to Jonathan.

Terry had always had a wicked sense of humour, Tory remembered with an inward groan. Admittedly Jonathan wasn’t green any more, but he was certainly still very white.

‘Jonathan McGuire. Terry Bridson.’ She introduced the two men quickly as she saw that Jonathan’s eyes were once again the flinty grey colour that warned of impending danger to anyone who crossed him, and Terry’s teasing definitely came under that heading!

She watched as the two men shook hands, Terry still grinning, Jonathan managing a grimace of a smile in return.

‘Your TT course is—interesting,’ Jonathan ventured. ‘What other forms of torture do you have for the unsuspecting tourist?’

The latter was added so mildly that the sarcasm underlying the remark didn’t sink in with Tory for several seconds.

Terry, however, roared with laughter, slapping the other man companionably on the back. ‘We call it fun here on the island.’ He grinned.

‘Hmm,’ Jonathan responded non-committally. ‘Are you one of the competitors?’

‘Not any more.’ Terry sobered. ‘I came off a few years ago.’ He slapped his damaged knee, the reason for his pronounced limp. ‘I don’t have the agility to be a competitor any more.’

‘Much to his family’s relief,’ Tory put in firmly.

Terry shrugged. ‘There is that, I suppose.’ But the wistfulness could clearly be heard in his voice. ‘Are you staying on the island long, Jonathan? Or are you just here for TT?’

From the look on his face, Jonathan didn’t care if he never looked at another motorbike in his lifetime!

‘I’m unsure of the length of my stay,’ he answered the other man, that guarded tone back in his voice.

‘If you’re still here next week, maybe you and Tory would like to come out for a quiet drink.’ Terry seemed completely oblivious to the other man’s non-committal answer. ‘This week is out, I’m afraid. For obvious reasons.’ He looked about them, the noise of bike engines, chatter and laughter almost deafening.

So was next week, as far as Tory was concerned. She had no wish to be linked as the other half of a couple with Jonathan McGuire! Especially where her family was concerned.

‘We had better be getting back.’ She touched her cousin’s arm in apology. ‘And we’ll take a raincheck on next week,’ she added as she pulled her helmet back on. ‘Neither of us is sure of our plans at the moment.’

‘Fine,’ Terry said. ‘But give me a ring before you go back to London. Nice to meet you, Jonathan,’ he finished, before limping back to the group of friends he had been talking with when they had arrived.

Tory looked at the still ashen-faced Jonathan. ‘Do you feel up to riding back to the farm on the bike? I promise I’ll go slowly.’

He briefly shut his eyes and then opened them again as he pulled his own helmet back on. ‘This has got to be the maddest thing I’ve ever done in my life,’ he said.