The Secret Nuptials of Tom Strachan

By Ruby O'Connor

Tom and Sophie become ensnared in a dangerous game as they work together for the first time! Galahad and Guinevere find themselves collaborating on a mission together in Italy, where they must hide their affections while Tom assists Sophie in an investigation infiltrating a mysterious criminal enterprise run by Lucia Romano. A powerful businesswoman, Romano has begun mysteriously acquiring rare artworks in Venice. Sophie is convinced this artwork is a red herring for a larger, international criminal conspiracy. Will she prove correct in her hunch, and will she and Tom survive the investigation when their cover is threatened?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ruby O'Connor
• Release date: Dec 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781916276369

Ruby O'Connor

Ruby O'Connor is a bit of a philodox, and a killjoy. She'd also like to take this opportunity to apologize to Howard Jones. Why is not important. She has lived here and there, learning this and that, and chronicles these adventures as Arizonacolleen on various social media. Proud creator of Sophie Hollander and Minuet Nero so far. Friend, expat, activist, and unique dresser. Ruby does most of her social drinking near her husband and their two dogs in Wexford, Ireland. She's very grateful you checked out her profile. Seriously.

Book preview

The Secret Nuptials

of Tom Strachan

The Secret Nuptials

of

Tom Strachan

Ruby O’Connor

The Secret Nuptials of Tom Strachan by Ruby O’Connor 

© 2020 Ruby O’Connor, Arizonacolleen

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact:

[e-mail]

Cover designed by Emma Clinton.

ISBN: 978-1-9162763-6-9

for John

who taught me the meaning of romance

Table of Content

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part One

The bus pulled left, veering at intense speed as three henchmen held a man against the rail of the second deck. Dr Mandeville flinched, refusing to answer the questions of the men as they threatened him. They are almost at London Bridge, Merlin announced firmly, do we have any agents within reach of them? Negative, reported Bedivere. ETA ten minutes, responded Lancelot.

Fucking get on it then! Merlin instructed, If they reach the bridge we might not be able to stop them in time.

Merlin sipped his tea, surveying the map of London when a familiar voice interrupted his concentration. Could I possibly be of assistance? Sophie asked, lowering her copy of the Times as she listened in from the back of her private cab. Merlin grinned as her tracker popped up on the map, on London Bridge.

Guinevere, Merlin replied, quite the moment to play the bushelman.

I was in the neighbourhood, Sophie said coolly, just on my way to you.

Well, Merlin instructed, get on with it.

Sophie smiled, setting her newspaper on the seat and reaching into the side console for a pair of gloves. Rising from her seat, she slipped her hands into the gloves and gave a nod to the driver; who pressed a button to open the concealed sunroof above her.

Are you ready, Reg? Sophie asked happily. Reginald nodded, and Sophie lifted her head through the sunroof before jumping up, slamming the magnetized gloves onto the roof of the cab and pulling herself through. Sophie activated the magnetic lock in her espadrilles before releasing her glove and slowly steadying herself in a squatting position. Rising to a stand as the cab weaved around traffic and approached the bus, Sophie watched as the henchmen backed Mandeville against the railing. 

Almost, Reginald, Sophie instructed as the cab pulled alongside the taxi, forward just a few feet. The cab pulled into position and Sophie positioned herself as she focused up at the figures overhead.

As the henchman lifted the doctor, Sophie braced herself and fired at the henchman. He dodged the shot and released the doctor, who fell from the railing and into Sophie’s embrace. Sophie channelled the weight of drop down to the cab, turning as she lowered him to the roof and holding him there.

Dr Wilson Mandeville? she called, My name is Guinevere, and I’m going to take you home. Mandeville stared up at her, startled as she smiled back at him and reached past his head. Mind your head, please, she instructed, gently pushing him forward through the sunroof and into the cab. As he slipped into it, Sophie looked over her shoulder for any sign of return fire before she unlocked each foot and pulled herself through the sunroof. Tumbling artfully into the cab, she smoothed her skirt before closing the roof and taking a seat beside the doctor.

You must be quite shaken, she comforted, but you are safe now. Can I offer you a drink to calm your nerves? The doctor shook his head, lowering his gaze as Sophie nodded slowly. Reginald? To HQ please, she instructed, turning her body to the front and returning to her newspaper nonchalantly. Would you like a section? She offered without looking up.

As the doctor was ushered away by officers, Sophie made her way through the lower levels of HQ and into the offices of Grail Pursuit. There she filed her return paperwork and checked any notes before submitting her decompression status. Sophie felt invigorated by the recent rescue but the wounds of her last mission still plagued her, and she felt reluctant to join the group before a proper rest. She winced, a slight wheeze escaping her as her bruised rib shifted under her vest. Sophie looked in the mirror, noting her bruises and decided not to stop in on Edwin before she slipped away quietly. She stepped into a taxi to ensure the underground transport did not throw her into any unwitting interaction with other agents and left for her home. Though Sophie had grown to cherish recent opportunities to spend with her fellow agents, she was still reluctant to allow them to see her in pain. She knew a single wince, and their gallantry would eclipse any hope of camaraderie. Best to avoid that scenario completely, she concluded.

Sophie switched on the television in her bedroom before walking down the hall in pursuit of her evening cup of tea. She filled the kettle, thinking of her last exchange before her return to London. She had also returned from a shower, entering her room when her attacker struck. She pulled the towel from her hair in her kitchen, her hand brushing past the swollen cheek where his fist connected in that initial blow, knocking her sideways as she emerged from the doorway of the studio apartment. She smirked, remembering that it was his last successful punch. She then responded with an aggressive kick to his face and as he recoiled from the blow jumped onto his back. Wrapping her legs around his shoulders and snatching the towel from her hair, she wrapped it around his neck as he struggled to pull at her legs or reach his pockets. She squeezed the towel before her assailant backed himself full force against the wall, slamming her into it. Sophie slipped from her grip as he reared forward to slam her again, this time cracking her rib and causing her to drop the towel. As the attacker went for a third, finishing blow, Sophie snatched her bag from the rack along the wall.

Reaching into it as it spilled across the floor, Sophie grasped a blank inhaler and dropped the rest of the bag. Lunging forward, Sophie placed the inhaler at his ear and depressed it as he slammed her against the wall and she tumbled from his shoulders. She landed on her knees, gripping her side as the intruder reached for his knife and flipped it open. The kettle switched off with an audible click, shaking Sophie from her train of thought and restoring her to the present. She sighed, pouring the rested water over her loose tea in silence. Squeezing the remaining water from her hair, she carried the tea back through her bedroom and to the bath, replacing her towel. Resting her teacup on the bedside table, Sophie looked up to spy a figure standing out on her balcony in the darkness. Curiously, she tightened the knot on her robe and walked over to open the door.

What are you doing out here? Sophie asked, leaning against the frame and looking out at the figure.

I thought you might need this, Tom answered, lifting a small jar from his overcoat pocket. He extended it to her, placing it into her palm as he stepped forward.

Hello Canary, Tom whispered as she examined the jar. Sophie looked up at him, her expression serious if a bit gloomy as she turned back into her bedroom and he followed. I wasn’t sure if you had any here at home, and after I read your dossier I knew you would need it, he offered, stepping through the threshold and closing the door on the crisp October evening.

  What does this do? Sophie asked with a tone of defeat that puzzled Tom. She examined the glass but didn’t open it, rubbing her thumb across the Pendragon logo etched into the glass.

It hastens the healing of muscle tears and recovery from deep bruising, Tom explained, It’s from our washbag. Sophie nodded but did not look up from her hands. Surely you must’ve been given some during your recruitment… Tom reasoned in an effort to jog her memory.

No, Sophie responded flatly. She set the jar on the bedside and gripped the corner of the bed in an attempt to maintain her composure. Tom, forgive my impertinence, but you cannot simply show up outside my window unannounced. If my taking that liberty in the past is responsible I am sorry, but I need you to respect this space.

Tom was taken aback by her instruction, and unsure how to respond. It is the happiest time I know, when I return home and you are there, he said softly. Sophie looked up at him, and for a moment there was only silence. Retrieving her tea, she took a healthy sip of it before clearing her throat.

I have also revelled in moments, retreating to you, she admitted, "but if I have come back to this place and contacted no one I am sequestered. I need you to respect that." Sophie looked into Tom’s eyes, wanting to immediately apologize and fold herself into his embrace. She paused, reminding herself that her declaration was right, even if it made for awkwardness at the moment.

I’m sorry, Tom offered simply, I’ll leave you to your evening. Tom turned to exit through the front door without further comment. He offered no retort to her request, only to honour it as quickly as possible.

Is it topical? Sophie asked before he could exit. Tom turned back to her as she opened the container and sniffed it lightly.

Yes, Tom answered, with a gentle rub into the area, it should work overnight to restore you. Sophie shifted, trying to work out the mechanics of applying it herself silently as she looked at the contents. I could apply it if you like, Tom offered lightly, I’ll merely see to your bruises and be off. We don’t even have to talk. You could watch your programme and I’ll go as soon as you are taken care of. Sophie’s shoulders dropped and she sighed softly. You’ve come all this way to be kind and I give you a pranging, she muttered, I’m wretched, aren’t I? Sophie rolled her eyes at herself before looking back at him. You’re not, Tom answered sincerely, You are my favourite person, and you were right...to dress me down. I should have called. Sophie smiled at him. It was a slight, self-aware gesture, and the first time she had done it since he arrived. Tom could feel his chest swell in the warmth of witnessing it.

May I remove my coat? Tom asked as Sophie finished her cup of tea. Of course you may, she replied, Shall I hang it? No, he dismissed, it will be just fine here. He tossed his coat lightly across the chair in the corner of Sophie’s room and walked around the bed.

Claiming a pillow from the head of the bed and resting it at the foot facing the television, he patted it into place for her. Make yourself at home and I’ll attend to the salve, Tom instructed, rolling his sleeves to the cuff. Sophie opened and slipped out of her robe, exposing the deep purple and yellow tones which wrapped around her side and stretched down her back. She said nothing, gently stretching across the bed and resting her head against the pillow.

Have you seen this machine? Sophie asked as Tom spread the salve between his fingers and gently brushed them along her back, It records all of my programs while I’m away in one little box. I can catch up when I return. Sophie pressed a button, and Alan Titchmarsh began narrating about the great gardens of England as Tom worked.

How interesting, Tom remarked.

He tried to work gently, easing back if Sophie winced softly while she relaxed at the sensation of his warm hands. When she shivered slightly, he paused and folded the duvet across her legs to warm her up. Thank you, my love, Sophie offered, her drowsy words making Tom smile. He finished applying the mixture to each spot and gently traced his fingertips across her black eye and cheek as she dozed calmly at the foot of the bed. Sophie sniffed, shifting and brushing her cheek across his lingering fingers as she slumbered. Tom folded the duvet over