“Can I touch it?”
“If you want.”
He reached out and touched it, his chubby little fingers going over the raised white skin. His face was thoughtful and I waited a few seconds to let the message sink in before I spoke again.
“If I had two more of these would it make me a monster?”
He thought about it, then shook his head.
“What about if I had ten more, Zackary?”
This time he didn’t have to think about it. He shook his head immediately.
“It is the same with your father. He is not a monster just because he has a few scars on his face.”
“But he is always angry with Mummy.”
I shook my head. “No, he’s not.”
He nodded. “Yes, he is. He makes her very sad because he wants to take me away from her.”
I didn't know where to start. It was such a pack of lies. “None of that is true …” I couldn’t help myself from saying.
His response was to frown. “Mummy said,” he insisted stubbornly.
If I was not careful I was going to get myself in big trouble. “I’m not saying that she lied or anything like that. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding … you know. Sometimes adults get it wrong too.”
Mrs. Blackmore arrived with Zackary’s lunch then, and I turned to take the tray from her. “Thank you,” I said with a smile. As I put the meal before him, I quietly shot my last bullet. “Your father loves you very much, and he would love to spend some time with you, so do not be scared of him, alright?
“What about Mummy? I think she might not like it if I chose Daddy instead of her.”
“How about we let Daddy handle Mummy?”
He nodded eagerly, and I fell a little bit more in love with him.
Chapter 35
Charlotte
I remembered the kiss …
Everything else was vague and dreamlike, but the kiss was vivid. I could still taste it. It was the kind of deep kiss, I imagined when I was child, had been given to Snow White or Sleeping Beauty. It had everything. Passion, romance … great love. It was so similar to the first night I’d been at the house, and yet so different. These memories refused to fade … flashing into my mind, then disappearing before I could grab a hold of them.
Of course, it couldn’t possibly have happened. There was no way.
After I put Zackary to sleep I came down to sit with Carrie and Mrs. Blackmore. We passed the late evening away in the warmth of the kitchen with cups of tea, scones and the uncomplicated conversation of simple working people. These were my kind of people.
Both women laughed and reacted to the drama that they were watching on TV, but my mind was engaged in trying to retrieve the events from the night before.
Surreal fragments of being touched in secret places came to me, the reminder of sheets being pulled away from my body. An underlying note of excitement accompanied these memories. The pit of my stomach was fluttering with nerves and it kept me tense.
The memory of a pair of gray eyes watching me.
His tongue had been in me … I was sure of it … I felt it, and as I tightened my hold on the handle of my cup I felt my hand tremble.
What exactly had happened?
The door suddenly opened and all the hair on my body stood to attention before I even turned to see why it was. Both Mrs. Blackmore and Carrie jumped to their feet. “Mr. King,” they called in unison.
Tea splashed from my cup, I jumped to my feet along with them and turned around to meet the gray eyes that had haunted me all day. He appeared dark and imposing in a light blue, bishop-collared dress shirt, dark slacks and his mask.
I broke his gaze and lowered my face to the floor.
“Do you need Barnaby, Sir?” Mrs. Blackmore asked. She sounded flustered. “He headed off into town to meet with a friend.”
“No, I don’t need him.”
Mrs. Blackmore glanced at me and Carrie nervously. “Is there anything I can get you, Sir?”
“Some fruit and tea,” he said slowly.
I risked a look at him and found his gaze blatantly and unashamedly on me. I could feel both Carrie and Mrs. Blackmore watching the both of us with unbridled interest.
“I’ll get it delivered as soon as it’s ready,” Mrs. Blackmore said quickly.
The source of my nightmare and fantasies nodded and took his leave.
Mrs. Blackmore heaved a sigh of relief, her shoulders slumping from being so nervous.
“Oh, my God. I can’t believe he came in here,” Carrie gasped.
“Will you take the tray up to him, Carrie?” Mrs. Blackmore asked, as she bustled around preparing his tea.
"I’ll take it up to him?" I said, before my brain got involved.
Both women turned to look at me.
"I'd like to speak to him about Zackary," I said quickly.
"I don’t think you’re going to get very far doing it one to one," Carrie said. "He doesn't speak much at all. I've attended to his wing for a long time now, and I think this was the first time I’ve heard him speak directly to another human being.”
"It wouldn't hurt to try" I said with a shrug.
"So what do you think of him?" Carrie asked. "Is this the first time you've seen him in real life?"
"He's very imposing," I said truthfully.
Carrie nodded in agreement. "I've got no arguments there. In my first few months working in his wing I was too scared to even look him in the eye. The way that Madam spoke of him, I really thought he was some kind of monster ready to bite my head off, but really, he’s quite the mysterious knight, almost like a romantic hero from a novel, is he not, Mrs. Blackmore?”
"Dashing is the word you're looking for," she said. "He makes me think of the many sweaty nights in my youth."
Carrie giggled. "I completely agree. I can't believe Madam goes to other men when there's more than enough to keep her busy at home. Sometimes I just want to give him a big heartfelt hug. All those scars and living all on his own up there. Charles, who used to work here as a chauffeur, said there were many nights he heard the master screaming in pain as he forced himself to learn to walk again."
The kettle that had been placed to boil on the stove sounded off, and Mrs. Blackmore immediately busied herself with making the tea. Carrie helped her cut up a selection of fruit.
“There you go,” Mrs. Blackmore said, putting a small vase of flowers on the tray.
I drained my cup and picked up the tray. Things hadn't gone so well the last time I was there, so as I approached his door I took deep even breaths to steady my nerves.
His door was left partly open so after one knock, I walked in and settled it on the table by his door. As I straightened, he emerged from the room.
His eyes.
In that moment, I knew he had been with me the previous night. I felt hot color flood my face and my big plans to ask him to confirm or deny what had happened last night shattered. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Right. I’ll see you later,” I said, and like a little coward turned away to leave.
“Stay,” he ordered.
I stopped in my tracks and faced him.
Chapter 36
Charlotte
He cocked his head and watched me, his eyes roving down my body with an expression I had never seen before. There was confidence and a new possessiveness there. There was also a knowing. I felt bare and stripped naked before his look. Just then the memory of his face between my legs came to me out of nowhere, and my eyes popped open in disbelief. Was I going crazy?
Surely that didn’t happen? I swallowed hard and tried not to show how affected I was by him.
His gaze burned a hole through me, but I continued to keep eye contact even when he came very close to me. He was so close I felt his heat like a living breathing thing. With a fork he picked up a piece of persimmon, his movements unhurried, but each second ticked away in my head like a bomb. The fruit slipped between his lips. I had a flash of seeing his lips shiny with juices. My juices.
I
dropped his gaze then. I could have sworn he was doing it deliberately, to torture me, but all I could do was play along. I didn’t know what had happened last night and I needed him to tell me.
“I want to fuck you. What’s it going to take?”
Time slowed down. My heart lurched in my throat and I felt all the breath drain out of my body. I was sure that I had not heard him right.
“What?”
Patiently, he repeated himself. “I want to fuck you. What’s it going to take?”
True, I was shocked since I was not expecting him to be so blunt, but I also felt an undeniable flare of desire at the raw hunger I saw in his eyes.
“But you’re married,” I whispered.
Something flashed in his eyes. “Is it a divorce you need?”
Hearing him say the word confused me. I frowned. “No, I mean … I don’t know. I don’t want to be the person who breaks up a family. I couldn’t live with myself.”
His lips twisted. “You call what I have a family? To all intents and purposes I am alone, Charlotte.”
“What about Jillian?”
“What about Jillian?” he sneered. “Do you know where she is now?”
I shook my head.
“She is in London with one of her many lovers.”
I bit my bottom lip. Of course she was. “What about Zackary?”
I saw a flash of sadness in his eyes. “I will keep Zackary with me. Jillian is welcome to visit him as much as she wants, or he can go and stay with her for a weekend, but there is no way I am giving him up.”
“She’s not going to allow it.”
“She won’t have a choice. I am not taking Zackary with me to punish her. He is not even my biological son. I am taking him because it is the best thing I can do for him.”
I stared at him in shock. Finally, it clicked. That was why he looked nothing like Brett and everything like his mother.
“So, back to my original question …”
“I’m not a toy,” I lashed out. “Or a game that you can just play with and discard.”
“I never said you were.” His eyes narrowed. “You want me too … so what’s the problem?”
“How can you be so damn sure I want you?”
“My tongue was in your cunt last night. You came with my fingers inside you, calling out my name … no one else’s.”
My jaw dropped. What the hell? I came with his fingers inside me? The only flashbacks I had was of him eating me out.
"You don't remember any of it?" His eyes showed genuine astonishment.
But I couldn’t believe it either. My employer came to my room and did, God knows what, to me while I was practically unconscious. "You did … things to me while I was incoherent?" I whispered in disbelief.
He jerked back, his eyes tormented. "What? No! Don’t you remember? You called me and told me about your dream. You wanted me to fill you up."
I shut my eyes. Yes, yes, I did remember. Oh, God! I did do that. What a fool I’d made of myself last night, and again, by not even remembering asking someone to have sex with me.
"Do you want me to elaborate further?"
When I couldn't respond he went on.
"You begged me, Charlotte.”
"For fucks sake stop it!" I yelled, not because what he was saying wasn’t true, but because I was horribly ashamed of how I had thrown myself at him like some cheap slut. My first instinct was to run away from him and hide my shame. I whirled around and started running.
"Let me go,” I cried but he spun me around and imprisoned my arms by my sides.
"Charlotte."
"Let me go, otherwise this won't end here."
"It better not," he snarled. "Look at me. Fucking look at me."
I did and I couldn't breathe. The expression in his eyes tore at my insides. The maddening longing for him came back, but knowing we had done intimate things that I had no memory of embarrassed and crippled me. Made me unable even to think.
"You can sue me if you want ..." he rasped, "for however much you think it’s worth and I'll pay you every dime, but I won't apologize for last night. I want you. I’ve always wanted you, and I always will. Maybe it was a mistake for you.” He paused. “Tell me why are you rejecting me, Charlotte. Don't lie to me. Whatever it is I'll accept it."
I was about to dismiss the question and fight for my release from him when the significance of his question struck me. I stared at his face. His incredibly beautiful face. I could not understand how anyone could even think to call this man a monster. Even with the trace of scars running down from under his eyes he still looked more beautiful than most men I had ever come across. I told him the truth.
"It's not because of your scars."
He had been ready for the blow, for what he was sure was the reason for my rejection, but when he heard my statement, his guard slipped for just a moment. And for a second I saw the terrible sadness and loneliness within. I was no longer intimidated by him ... or embarrassed that I had begged him to have sex with me. In that moment, I wanted more than anything in the world to embrace him and try to make up for the pain that he’d had to endure. For the suffering ridicule and rejection he’d suffered at Jillian’s hands.
The moment was fleeting.
Before I could even respond to him, he had put the steel back into his gaze. "Then why?" he growled.
There was only one reason, but it was something I could not see past. No matter what he said, he could never change the fact that as far as Zackary was concerned I would always be the other woman. He would never understand. He would learn to hate me. He would think I had pretended to love him, and then torn his family up from the inside. The end would surely be drastic.
"I don't owe you an explanation,” I said to him but before I could leave he slid a hand around my neck and crushed my lips to his.
I fought the kiss ... pulling my mouth from his, but it still ended up back where it seemingly belonged. His slanted lips fit my mouth perfectly, wrenching more emotion from me than should have been possible.
I pushed at his shoulders, but with his hands around my waist he held me in place until his tongue slid into my mouth. Then my entire body went limp. There was no more fight in me. I gave in to pleasure. He stroked and dipped, and sucked, and I totally surrendered to the delicious assault. He tasted heavenly, but at the same time beautifully sinful. He was mine and yet he was forbidden. I couldn't place a reason on it. More than anything I wanted to understand why I reacted to him in this way.
His lips withdrew from mine.
"Brett," I croaked, my brain starting to reassert itself.
Instead of answering me his mouth claimed my neck. A ripple of sweet ecstasy coursed through me. It made my toes curl. I snaked my hands around his neck and let my fingers tangle in his hair. I gasped when my back was slammed against a wall.
We needed to stop otherwise I would lose myself, I thought. But I didn’t do anything about it. I just let the passion in me build higher and higher and grow even more wild. Suddenly, an image of Zackary crying for his mother came into my head. I felt something like panic and tears rushed to my eyes as I struggled to break free of him.
If I didn’t let go now, I would never be able to. "Brett," I cried, "Brett. Stop."
My voice reverberated in the still room and he immediately came to a halt. His breathing was ragged, and so was mine. He lifted his gaze to mine and seeing the tears in my eyes, flinched and pulled away from me.
I felt cold when the heat of his body was gone. So cold I wanted to throw myself back into his embrace.
“Charlotte, are you alright?” he started to reach out, but I held my hand out. “Please don't touch me.”
I couldn't meet his eyes for the fear that he would see how much I wanted him. I hurried away from the room.
Chapter 37
Brett
It was barely a day later when Jillian stormed into my office.
She was fuming as she approached. I leaned back into my seat and watched her explod
e in a way that only Jillian could. "What the fuck is this?"
She flung the folder on the table, and the stack of papers inside scattered out. I watched calmly as they floated down and landed in varying locations across the table and the floor. There was not a stitch of makeup on her face and for a moment it took me back to when we were younger.
"You're asking for a divorce?” she screeched. “Where the hell is this coming from?"
"Don't you think it's high time we bring our joke of a relationship to an end?" I asked her quietly.
"Who says it's a joke," she yelled at me. "Who? Why is it a joke?"
"Are we truly married, then?" I asked.
For a moment she was at a loss for words, then she took a deep breath to calm herself. "Brett, we're fine. We have an agreement. An arrangement that gives Zackary stability and access to both his parents. Cancel this rubbish."
"I'm not fine. The agreement doesn’t suit me anymore," I said to her. "You sleep around ... get into accidents that I constantly have to clean up ... ignore our child. What then is your use to me exactly?"
"This has been going on for years and you've never said a word. Why is it bothering you now?"
"It's high time we made a clean bre—”
"Is there someone else?" she cut in, her eyes glittering. "You've been indifferent all along. I cannot understand why you are suddenly in such a hurry to be free.”
"What part of living this way are you okay with?”
"It doesn't matter,” she cried. "We have almost everything. You have more money than you could ever be able to spend even if you lived to be a thousand. You have the prestige. Very few men in this world hold as much influence as you do. What else do you fucking want?”
I watched her carefully. "What does any of this have to do with my wanting a divorce?"
"I grew up with you, Brett. My father was more yours than he ever was to me. I should have had a problem with that, but it didn't matter because I knew you had nothing. I cared about you.”
The Man In The Mirror Page 13
