A Tangled Web

by A. Claire Everward

  He couldn’t breathe.

  She caught him unprepared when she turned back and saw his eyes on her. Saw him.

  And it hit her, the emotion, as her hold on it finally loosened, as what had been building in her for him finally won, the look in his eyes awakening what only love could.

  The words came out involuntarily, full of feeling. “I had no idea it could feel this way.”

  And then he did come into the room, covered the distance to her in long strides, caught her in his arms and kissed her, unable to stop, not wanting to. He felt her soft intake of breath as his hands moved down her back, to her hips, molding. He felt her body respond to his and his hands tightened, wanting to take more, needing to have her, needing—

  He forced himself to stop. Slowly, he had to do this, in their first time and in as many more times as she would need, slowly. Show her how it should be, how it would be with him, love her until she had no thought but him, what he could give her, when he touched her.

  He eased back and breathed. “I’m sorry, I had meant to take it slow.”

  “I trust you.” She was overwhelmed, but only by the feel of his touch, the kind of need behind it, which she had never known, and her need for him, which came so easily, so impossibly easily.

  “I know.” He had felt the change in her, her increasing, albeit hesitant acceptance of the growing intimacy between them, since he had first kissed her. And he had felt her respond to him just now. “I know,” he repeated, and touched his lips to hers.

  Something fell downstairs and they both jumped, then started laughing.

  “I’d better go see if we still have a kitchen,” Ian said, still laughing. He touched his lips to hers one more time, keeping his hands light on her, and left.

  Tess breathed in and sat down on the bed, then immediately stood up again and looked at it with new eyes. Realizing she was blushing, she forced her attention to her bag, and unpacked.

  She took a long shower, letting hot water wash over her, wishing the past days, the past, to be just that, hoping that what she wanted could be. Going into the closet, she knew what her choice would be as soon as she saw it. One of her new dresses, a white, knee-length summer dress with thin straps and a perfectly fitting bodice, its skirt gradually flaring out from the waist down. With a plunging neckline, true, which was more of a cleavage than she normally wore, but Juno and Hubert knew what she was comfortable with, and this one fit in a perfect way that was not too revealing. She glanced at herself in the mirror and let her hair down, did nothing with it but let it fall to her shoulders. She loved it this way, and so did Ian.

  She went downstairs and followed the sounds to the kitchen. It sounded like Ian Blackwell and his house manager were busy.

  “You boys need a hand?” she asked, amused at the sight before her.

  Ian began to answer, turning to her with a smile, but at the sight of her the smile disappeared and all his words were forgotten. She had expected the look, the gaze that took in her body, the way she looked in the dress. What she hadn’t expected was the tingle of pleasure it gave her.

  “We’re good,” Ian said, collecting himself, still bewildered that she could do this to him. Bewildered, but not at all displeased.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Blackwell.” Graham looked abashed. “I tried something new for your first time here and I had a bit of a mishap.”

  “A lot of a mishap, but you know what,” Ian came toward Tess with a shirt that had some sort of sauce, she guessed, spluttered all over it, and glanced behind him at Graham, “I think it came out very well, Graham.”

  “Think so?” Graham’s face brightened.

  “I’m sure so. We’ll see what Mrs. Blackwell says about it at dinner. I’m going up to wash this off me.” Walking by Tess, he touched his lips to hers, keeping a careful distance, but strictly because of the state of his clothes. “You look beautiful,” he said.

  She followed him with her eyes as he walked down the hallway, but had to look away when he took his stained shirt off on the way. Feeling the color return, she escaped into the kitchen.

  “No, please, not the way you’re dressed, Mrs. Blackwell,” Graham said, horrified. “We’ve got this all sorted out, I’ll just finish here. Can I get you a drink in the meantime?”

  “Don’t worry, Graham, I’ll get one myself.” She smiled at him and got out of the way.

  She chose a bottle of wine and poured two glasses, leaving Ian’s in the living room and taking hers outside. She stood in the warm breeze, not thinking, not having to in this place that called for nothing but peace, just letting it be for the first time . . . ever, she realized, enjoying the feeling, enjoying herself.

  “Thank you.”

  She turned to see Ian coming out with the drink she had poured for him in his hand. He had showered and was dressed casually, looking more relaxed than she had seen him in weeks. And far too good looking. Sexy, she thought and knew the color had returned. She turned back to the falling darkness, just that bit frustrated. She was too inexperienced, far too new at this, and with a man who was everything but.

  He surprised her by coming up behind her, moving her hair aside and gently touching his lips to the nape of her neck, lingering. He had promised himself that he would, after earlier, keep his distance, but he couldn’t, he simply could not stop touching her.

  Her reaction, leaning into him, letting him, trusting him, made his heart just that little bit more, impossibly more, hers.

  “Dinner is ready.” Graham was far more pleased now than he had been before, but that was because of the way the couple was standing together. “I prepared the table for you inside.”

  “Or, the three of us can eat out here,” Ian said.

  “I’m with him,” Tess agreed. It was beautiful outside, the evening comfortably warm.

  “But it’s supposed to be a romantic dinner, I put candles and everything.”

  “There are all kind of romantic,” Ian said. No frills, no pretenses. Not with Tess. This he would do his way. Love her, his way. “We’ll all eat out here together.”

  “Graham,” Tess went to him and put an affectionate hand on his arm. “You’ve worked hard on this dinner, enjoy it with us.”

  “And you and I always eat together when we’re here,” Ian said.

  “We’re always alone here. You finally brought . . .” He looked from Ian to Tess and back. “Oh, I give up.”

  Ian laughed. “Good.” He tapped Graham heartily on his shoulder. “Come on, we’ll help.”

  Dinner outside was indeed pleasant. It was also relaxed. After clearing the dishes, insisting on doing so alone, Graham excused himself, claiming the wine made him sleepy. He left Tess and Ian sitting comfortably beside each other, looking out at the woods, at the starlit sky above them.

  “I’ve never known anyone to hold his liquor better than Graham,” Ian observed after a beat, and Tess laughed. He looked at her. The smile remained on her face and she was looking out at the gentle night that had fallen over the island.

  “He loves you,” she said.

  “Yes, he does. He’s family.”

  At that, she glanced at him, at this amazing man. Her husband, she mused, and her heart picked up speed as she became conscious of this place, this night, with him.

  “He likes Lina,” Ian remarked. “He’s always chosen to be alone, but he really likes Lina.”

  “Why doesn’t he do anything about it?”

  “He feels clumsy around women.”

  “But he’s been around you,” she said, and he threw her a glance.

  “I meant that he must have learned something, picked up some moves.” She fumbled it again.

  “Picked up some moves?” He turned to her in his chair, raising both eyebrows.

  “Oh, never mind.” She laughed. “Either way, she likes him too.”

  “She does?”

  “Yes. Very much. But she’s shy about it. She actually asked me for advice.” Tess shook her head incredulously.

  “What
did you tell her?”

  “I had no idea what to say. I mean it’s not like I know what to do.”

  “You mean now that there’s a man you like.” His smile was a bit wicked.

  “What, no!” she protested, then laughed again and hid her face in her hands. “Oh, God. That’s it, I’m not talking to you about this. But,” she added after a thought, “they like each other, and we need to help them. They’re good people.”

  “We will. We’ll figure a way to set them up.”

  She nodded, and they sat silently.

  “But maybe not like Graham just tried to set us up,” Ian said, and they burst out laughing again.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The night was deep and silent by the time he walked her up the stairs to the master bedroom. He had no intention of doing anything that night and she knew that, just as she knew that he wouldn’t come near her unless she wanted him to. At the bedroom door he caressed her cheek, his fingers gentle, then touched his lips to hers, just a touch, though lingering just a little, just a bit longer. When she went inside, he turned and left.

  He walked into the guest bedroom he had chosen. Across the house from her, too far from her, but still. He would sleep here tonight, and his sleep would be calm. After all, she had come here with him. That was what had kept him up more nights than he cared to admit, unbearably so since she’d been attacked, and since he had learned her secret. The wondering, would she stay with him? Would she let him be who he wanted to be for her, would she let him give her the life she deserved? And she had chosen him, had chosen to stay. So now he would give her time. Move slowly. True, much had changed between them, it was so right now, so right for him too . . . Still, it was best this way. She was so close, just a few strides away. Still. He should wait. He would.

  He stared at the bed.

  Tess closed the door behind her and stood inside the room. The night was warm, the breeze coming from outside comfortable. She looked around her, at where she would be sleeping. Her eyes stopped at the bed. Abruptly, she walked over to it and turned down the bed covers, then the top sheet. There. Now it was ready for sleep, the bed.

  His bed.

  The thought came out of nowhere. This was Ian’s bedroom, Ian’s bed. He had slept here, would be here now, in this bed, between these sheets, if she wasn’t here. Unexpectedly, her mind brought up the image of him in his bedroom in their house, when she had woken him up the other night. Getting out of bed, near naked. Of course she knew he was well built, it was clear no matter what he wore. And he worked out, she’d seen him in the gym.

  She snapped herself out of it, out of her thinking about him this way. She had never thought about any man this way. But then, she had never been in love before. And no one had ever touched her like he had, kissed her as he had.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Shaking her head, wondering at herself, she came to stand at the doors to the balcony. To calm herself, take a refreshing breath. But standing in the well-lit room made the darkness outside simply dark, and so she returned inside and dimmed the lights, low enough for her own comfort, dim enough not to mar the night outside. She returned to the balcony and stood on the seam between inside and outside. It was comfortable, standing this way in the dimness. Easier in it, to deal with herself, with that part of her that was changing, that was still between what was and what was to be.

  She knew sex would come. Lovemaking, that’s what it would be. She had never thought about it in these terms, certainly never for herself. But she did now. Dared to think about it, about what it would be like with him. She wasn’t afraid of him. But she was afraid of it. No, she corrected herself. Not just afraid of it, afraid of her ability to experience it, the act itself. She was acutely aware of the sensations in her body when he touched her, felt something new tug at her. Need, need for him. An urge she had never felt. With him, she wanted the touch. And earlier that evening—

  Earlier that evening she hadn’t wanted him to stop. But after what had happened, what was done to her, would she even be able to . . . ?

  Movement in the corner of her eye snapped her out of her reverie and she turned around. The bedroom door was open, and Ian was a shadow in the doorway. Her heart leaped, then again, refusing to settle, and she didn’t, couldn’t, move.

  He took a step forward, a single step. He could see her clearly in the dimness of the room, framed against the darkness outside. Saw that the bed was turned down but she was still in the dress. He closed the door and walked over to her. Slowly. Giving her time to react, to decide if she didn’t want to, if she wasn’t ready. Coming close, he leaned in and brushed her lips with his, his hands on her waist, his touch light. She put her hands on his arms, but she didn’t push him away, and as the kiss deepened her arms came up around him, even as his tightened around her, holding her to him.

  He eased back, met her eyes. His had a question in them.

  Hers answered, her heart pounding.

  He picked her up, and, standing in place, kissed her, lingering. Then he walked to the bed, laid her down gently, and lay beside her, fully clothed. His need did not dictate patience, it dictated passion, taking, but this, tonight, was hers. He knew she was inexperienced, and he knew her fears. And before coming into this room, coming to her, he’d vowed she would think of nothing, feel nothing, but him and his love for her.

  He propped himself up on his elbow, his body alongside hers, careful not to put his weight on her. Keeping his hand light on her hip, he leaned and touched his lips to hers. Hers answered, parting to meet his as he deepened the kiss. He eased back just enough to look at her, to let her see his eyes, what they had in them for her, before his lips covered hers again, his hand moving up along her side, his touch tender through the soft fabric of her dress. She felt him linger at the swell of her breast as his mouth left hers, as he softly nuzzled her throat, his kisses slow and tender, moving down to where the dress did not cover, a bare shoulder. It was in his way, the dress, what she wore was in his way, but he removed nothing, not yet, wanting to let her feel his touch without being, feeling, exposed. All he did was continue to touch her, slow, so very slow, with a gentle brush of his fingers, minding where he touched, where he kissed, heeding her every reaction, every intake of breath, every parting of the lips, her eyes never wavering from his, watching him, never truly relaxed as her body fought memories even as her heart had already pushed them away.

  He lowered his hand to her thigh, his fingertips touching bare skin and feathering down to her calf, then back up, lightly brushing the back of her knee. He felt her gasp softly, then again as he circled to her inner thigh, just that much up under the dress, enough to feel the heat but nowhere near touching it. He lowered his mouth to hers, his hand moving back up, on the dress again, his touch light, gently gliding on her, becoming more pronounced as he deepened the kiss, as need threatened, as he felt her body respond to him.

  Letting go of her with one last touch of his lips to hers, he moved back, got off the bed and undressed, showing himself to her as she lay there, baring himself before he bared her. He saw her eyes on him, saw them widen fleetingly with old fears as her gaze flickered down his body, saw the anxiety disappear again when she raised her eyes to his, saw him. Saw him. He keeps doing that, she thought. Showing me I’m safe, even now, when he knows I trust him—

  The thought, all thought disappeared as he returned to lie beside her, naked, his body touching hers, but still without putting his weight on her. His eyes left hers and followed his hand as it traced her body again, his touch less delicate now, meant to be felt. As he leaned in to kiss her this time his hand slid to her back and he opened her dress, his movement slow, his fingers caressing bare skin as he did. His touch, where he had never touched her bare before, was caring, tender, so different, so amazingly different. The way he touched her, the sensations he awakened in her body, she had no idea it could be that way, had no idea anyone could do this to her, bring so much to life in her. His fingertips caressed every soft
spot he bared, his lips following them tenderly down her shoulder, her chest, the soft skin of a warm breast.

  At that, at the intimate touch, his mouth on her bare breast, she instinctively raised her hand and pushed against his shoulder, pushing him back, away from her body that was already too exposed, but he only raised his head and took her hand in his, stroking her fingers. He kissed her fingertips, his eyes back on hers, waiting, patient, giving her time. She breathed in, lay back, let him. Wanted him.

  He said nothing, did nothing until he felt the tension leave her body, saw her focus back on him. He trusted this, that he loved her, that she knew it. That she loved him. His mouth was soft, so soft on hers when he kissed her again, taking his time before he trailed down, lingered on her breast, his lips brushing over soft skin and teasing around the nipple, and when he finally touched it, his tongue gentle, she arched against him, her body responding, reacting to nothing but him, letting him pull the dress down, slip it away, slip it all away. His eyes roamed over her body and she saw the look in his eyes, filled with need, saw him breathe in, restraining himself, and trusted him as she finally lay naked with him.

  His hand moved on her body again, on bare skin, tracing her hip down to her thigh, and he did not stop this time, his eyes never moving from hers as he approached her. He lowered his mouth to her breast as his fingers lingered, his tongue teasing as they brushed through soft curls, sliding down, gentle. She strained against him, cried out as what he was doing to her took over, as every inch of her body reacted to his touch, and there was nothing in her but him, them, now.

  He aroused gently, swamping her with sensations that drowned old life past, replacing it with new life present and the promise of a new future. She did not realize she opened up to him, had no idea she arched up against him, no longer felt anything but him as he gave her what she needed, keeping his own need excruciatingly in check until she was ready. Her body was taut and her hands reached for him, but he did not let release come. When it did, this time, her first time, it had to be with him inside her, showing her what it should be, what it would be with him.