Wayward Heart

by Cathryn Hein

  Keeping his gaze fixed on the kitchen window, he turned off the engine and stepped out. There was no sign of movement, no sound other than the whistling sea breeze and the constant murmur of the ocean. He hurried to the house, pausing only to lift one of the chaff bags.

  A mineral stench assaulted him. He lifted the bag higher, angling it to make the most of the moonlight. Fury clawed Digby’s guts. Someone had spray-painted the word ‘whore’ in ugly, dripping red capitals. The W was gouged and ragged where Jas must have attempted to scour it off. He checked the side next to the lounge. ‘SLUT’ shouted viciously from the wall.

  He leaped up the steps and banged on her door, barging in before she could answer. ‘Jas?’

  ‘In here,’ she called from the lounge, her voice weary.

  She was on her knees in front of the fire, trying to light it with a shaking hand.

  ‘Jas,’ he said, crouching next to her and touching her chin to get her to look at him. ‘What’s going on?’

  She opened her trembling mouth to answer and shut it again, stubbornly twisting out of his grip to concentrate back on the fire.

  Frustrated, Digby snatched the matches out of her hand. It wasn’t cold, in fact the night was mild. A fire shouldn’t have been necessary but from the way Jas was shivering she was desperate for warmth. With a flick he lit another match and set the kindling alight. Satisfied it had caught, he tossed the matches aside and rested back on his haunches to study her.

  ‘Do you know who did this?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Someone who knows about you and Mike?’

  She stared at the flames. Shadows danced over her face. Her skin had an almost lustrous sheen from the make-up she was wearing, but her mascara now formed charcoal smudges under her eyes. ‘Probably.’

  There was too much resignation in her voice for this to be new. Digby thought back to the unplugged phone, the bike lock, the way she’d abruptly stiffened when she’d spotted him coming back from the beach with Ox.

  ‘What else has happened?’ When she didn’t answer he prodded further, his anger at her tormenter and worry for her making him harsh and demanding. ‘What else, Jas?’

  ‘Rotting fish, dog shit.’ She made a dismissive gesture. ‘The usual cowardly crap.’

  Digby tried to keep his breathing steady. Dog crap? Rotting fish? And she’d said nothing? Jesus Christ.

  ‘How long has it been going on for?’

  ‘Two, three weeks.’ She looked at him. ‘I can handle it.’

  ‘Of course you can. That’s why you’re sitting here shaking like you’ll never get warm.’

  ‘I’m not scared, if that’s what you’re implying. Just …’ She jammed fingers into her brow and slid them back and forth. ‘I just hate knowing there’s someone out there who despises me so much they’d do this.’ Her hand dropped and her mouth thinned with bitterness. ‘It’s the unfairness of it too, you know? Why I am I the whore? Why not Mike? He’s the married one, not me. Why isn’t whoever’s doing this tormenting him?’ Her gaze turned hollow. ‘It’s always the woman’s fault, have you noticed that? Always Eve, never Adam.’

  Digby didn’t know what to say. Jas was right, of course. Blame almost always fell on the women in these situations, regardless of where true fault lay. Digby wished he’d given in to his urge and punched Mike in the car like he’d wanted to. Not that it would have made a scrap of difference to what Jas was suffering, but knowing he’d done it would make Digby feel a whole lot better now.

  The fire had caught and was beginning to crackle in earnest, yet Jas remained shivering. Shock more than likely. Coming home from your best friend’s bridal shower to find your house vandalised would rattle anyone. Shrugging off his jacket, Digby draped it gently around her shoulders.

  ‘Stay there,’ he said, stroking the silky dark curls at the back of her head. ‘I’ll be back in a tick.’

  A few minutes later he returned, bearing filled wineglasses. He eased down close to Jas and passed one over. It was awkward sitting on the floor but he needed to be close.

  ‘It won’t be as good as the last,’ he said. ‘Everyone was still in the kitchen when I went across to the house. I just grabbed whatever was closest in the cellar and got out before anyone could corner me.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She took a small sip and stared back at the fire. The combusting logs seemed to almost pulse with life. ‘What a horrible way to end a good day.’

  It was, no question, but the unsettling thing for Digby was that being with her right now it didn’t feel that way. Sitting alongside Jas, keeping her safe, gave him an odd sense of worth, the likes of which he hadn’t felt since Felicity.

  ‘We’ll clean it off in the morning. There’s turps at home. We’ll try that first and if it doesn’t work the Mitre 10 should have some graffiti remover. Otherwise it might be a case of sanding it back and repainting.’

  ‘You don’t have to help. I can manage.’

  ‘I know, but I’m going to anyway.’

  Jas was silent for a while, then she smiled. ‘Thanks.’

  Digby covered her hand with his own, meaning only to give it a quick squeeze, but the feel of her soft skin against his palm had him holding on. Uncertain, he checked her face. The smile remained in place. So did his hand. The sense of worthiness that his presence was truly valued intensified.

  ‘Did you want me to get you anything to eat?’

  ‘No. I had enough of your mum’s cooking today.’ A cloud passed over Jasmine’s eyes. ‘I don’t think I could eat even if I was hungry.’

  ‘Understandable. Have you spoken to anyone about what’s been happening?’

  ‘Like who? My parents? The police?’ She sighed. ‘As I said to Em, I’d have to explain about Mike then. Mum and Dad would be devastated. All the excuses I made, the lies … As for the police, knowing how this place works, it’d be the equivalent of making it front-page article on the Leader. What could they do anyway? Drive past every now and then?’ Her lip curled slightly, dismissing the notion. ‘Whoever it is keeps a watch. They know when I’m out and they know how not to be seen.’

  That someone had been spying on her deepened Digby’s anger. Whatever mistakes Jas had made, she didn’t deserve this.

  ‘I can though.’

  Her brow furrowed. ‘You can what?’

  ‘Drive past, keep an eye out.’

  ‘Right. And if you catch someone in the act?’

  He hesitated. What would he do if he caught them? ‘I beat them up?’

  Jasmine’s giggle was the best sound he’d heard since arriving. She leaned against him fondly. ‘Tough guy.’

  ‘That’s me, Super Digby,’ he said, kissing her hair.

  She stilled and Digby thought he heard her breath catch. He swallowed. He’d kissed her without thinking. It was spontaneous. The way he used to be with Felicity.

  His face burned. ‘Jas—’

  Head shaking, she lifted her hand and pressed a finger against his lips. ‘Don’t.’ Inhaling deeply, she focused wide eyes on his and this time her voice was barely a whisper. ‘Don’t.’

  He didn’t know what she meant. Don’t talk? Don’t kiss her again? Panic that he’d overstepped hurtled through his veins but as she held his gaze, as he saw her expression sweeten and yield to longing, he began to understand that whatever this moment held, one thing was certain: it mattered.

  Digby felt something tick over inside himself, like a cog moving on. It was a strange feeling—not unpleasant but not completely agreeable either. More a sense of cautious hope. Like he was about to embark on an experiment that had a greater chance of failure than success.

  Jas placed her glass aside and shifted to rest on her knees, hands on the top of her thighs. Eyes downcast, she took another deep breath before addressing him once more. ‘Do you think …’

  He knew what she wanted to ask. Fear and guilt and five hundred other emotions fluttered through him, beating wings against his chest. But one beat harder than all the othe
rs.

  Desire.

  His voice, when it came, sounded as breathless as hers. ‘Yeah, I do.’

  ‘Oh.’ The corner of her mouth lifted and her nose screwed up cutely. ‘I kind of wasn’t expecting that.’

  ‘If it’s any consolation, neither was I.’

  She gave a soft laugh and just as quickly sobered. ‘God,’ she breathed, closing her eyes. ‘This is so weird. You’re my best friend’s brother. I’ve never … you know.’

  ‘Me either.’

  ‘But it feels right though, doesn’t it? For us?’

  He stroked curled fingers down the side of her face. Her skin was like satin, warm from the fire and flush with her yearning. Eyes hooded, she pressed catlike against the contact, as if it was something exquisite. The start of a moan vibrated inside Digby. How long since he’d touched someone with that kind of tenderness? How long since he’d found intimacy, since the burn of loneliness had been soothed?

  ‘Yes,’ he said as desire bulldozed over his guilt. Right, wrong, he didn’t care. He simply wanted.

  A heartbeat, two heartbeats, then they were diving together and his lips were on hers. She was luscious, welcoming and wine flavoured. The kiss at first was delicate, exploratory, but as the connection built it deepened. Their mouths opened wider, moved faster. His breathing turned ragged. Hands dug at clothes, seeking skin. Passion became vocal. Lust rocketed through Digby, turning every other thought to ashes. Heat surrounded him. His brain burned with need, the cold ache of his heart forgotten.

  Seconds became minutes, then time ran out and all he knew was the pleasure of Jasmine’s yielding body and the sound of her excitement and need as they rushed each other headlong and joyous back to life.

  CHAPTER

  11

  Jas stared at the ceiling, a nervous smile playing over her face. Had last night really happened? Body heat from the man next to her revealed it had, as did the throb of fulfilment between her legs. And it had been exciting and comforting and weird and perfect and scary and silly and a million other things all at once.

  Biting her lip, she rolled over, tucked her hand under her cheek and gazed at Digby. Creeping dawn painted the room in shades that seemed to grow more radiant and joyful with every second. He was awake, also lying on his side, facing her. Contrary to Jasmine’s haze of disbelief, Digby appeared smug and well satisfied.

  ‘Hi,’ he said.

  For some irrational reason Jas felt suddenly, stupidly, shy. Ridiculous after what they’d done. Last night was like the breaking of a dam. One kiss and the flow of their desire had become unstoppable. She scraped a lock of hair out of her eye. ‘Hi.’

  A long moment passed as she tried to read his thoughts. From the way he was scrutinising her in return, Digby was doing the same. What to say though? What if he felt last night was a mistake? Jas didn’t think so, not from the way he’d first met her gaze, but this was a man whose grief had been so encompassing he’d barely functioned for a year. Jasmine would bet her life savings she was the first woman he’d been with since Felicity. There were bound to be emotional consequences.

  ‘Did we really do that?’ she asked.

  ‘We did.’

  ‘Regrets?’ Jas winced at the question. Of all the moronic things to ask the morning after, when it was too late. Plus it smacked of insecurity, and the truth was Jas felt pretty damn wonderful about what had happened. Sex with Digby had been a revelation. Nothing like she’d imagined. Not that she’d ever imagined sex with her best friend’s brother before, which made the whole situation even more confounding.

  Her mind flickered to the brooding, Heathcliff-like image of him standing at the back door at Camrick, the confusing gut-punch of lust at the sight of him. But she suspected her attraction had begun well before then, in the quiet intimacy of his visits, in the shared drama with Mike. In Digby’s new-found masculine protectiveness.

  Digby didn’t seem to mind the question. ‘No. You?’

  ‘None.’ The certainty of his reply unfurled a warm, teasing feeling inside Jas. ‘Well, maybe one.’

  He raised an eyebrow.

  She wriggled a fraction closer, her heart already breaking into flutters. ‘Only that we didn’t do it more.’

  He chuckled and reached for her, hauling her onto his chest and kissing her. She wriggled against him, savouring the length of Digby’s erection against her lower belly.

  ‘Eveready,’ she whispered, nuzzling his neck and nibbling on his earlobe.

  A hand slipped behind her buttocks and explored downward. ‘I could say the same for you.’

  ‘I like sex.’

  ‘No kidding.’

  They broke into laughter.

  Suddenly, as though cleaved in half, Digby’s laughter stopped. He regarded Jas with a kind of puzzled awe. His gaze raked her face, a small line appearing between his brows.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t know, it’s weird. I keep thinking I shouldn’t be laughing.’

  The admission tangled around her heart. Jas fingered the nest of lightly curled hairs on his chest. ‘Because of Felicity?’

  Mouth closed against emotion, he nodded.

  ‘She would have wanted you to laugh, Dig. Felicity loved you. She wouldn’t want you to grieve forever.’

  ‘I know.’ But as he spoke his eyes shifted from hers to stare at nothing.

  She steered Digby’s face back towards hers with her finger. ‘Don’t think about it. That’s for later. Think about this instead.’

  Jasmine’s mouth closed over his, shutting off any protest, shutting out thoughts of her. This wasn’t about Felicity or his grief or his confusion. This was about now. About them taking all the wrongs in their lives and remodelling them into something good and right.

  The kiss was soft at first, teasing and without urgency. Its languidness allowed her to sense the thud of his heart against her chest, catch the increasing huskiness of his breaths, the thickening of his cock against her belly.

  The top sheet slipped down Jasmine’s back in a sensuous slither, cool morning air making her skin pucker. His fingers traced her spine, gliding lower with each delicious stroke and tightening her goosebumps even further. His hands weren’t coarse like a manual labourer’s, nor were they office-worker soft like Mike’s. There were rough patches, the occasional callous. Digby was a horticulturalist by profession and though he hadn’t worked for a year, Jas knew Camrick’s elegant gardens were mostly thanks to him. The scrape of roughness from the wear of work, the knowledge those hands had helped plants grow and thrive and bloom, added extra frisson to his touch. It was as though he was nurturing her into life too, her body ripening under his sure caresses.

  She gasped as Digby tumbled her over and propped on an elbow, head balanced on one palm. The other rested in the hollow just below the gap between her breasts, thumb caressing tiny circles. The smile was back on his face. In a lazy sweep, he raked his gaze over her chest, eyelids half lowered in a way that made Jasmine’s insides leap with excitement. His eyes slid back to hers and a slow, sexy-wicked tilt curled the edge of his mouth. Still watching her, he bowed towards her turgid nipple and tongued it, then eased back a fraction to blow air over the surface.

  Everything puckered. From her nipple to her scalp to the skin behind her knees. Jasmine’s toes curled, her fingers with them. She managed a choked ‘oh’ before Digby angled close again and sucked the nub fully into his mouth.

  Her gasp became breathless. Tiny bites shot electricity straight into her groin. Digby’s free hand cupped her other breast, finger and thumb rolling the straining nipple. Restless energy twitched through Jasmine’s legs and lifted her hips in an involuntary gesture of want. She moaned and reached for him. The skin of his cock was taut and satiny, the tip moist.

  Not releasing either breast, Digby lifted his head to regard her with wolfish eyes. It was the sexiest look she’d ever witnessed from any lover. As if he wanted to devour her. Aroused beyond measure, Jas eyed him hungrily, only to jerk back when
he scraped his teeth firmly over the sensitive peak of her nipple.

  ‘God!’

  The smugness in his gaze when she managed to uncross her eyes had her giggling, but her amusement was short-lived. His fingers were trailing lower, the pads of his fingertips leaving tiny pitter-patters over her belly. They meandered left then right, roving everywhere except where she wanted them.

  ‘You’re a tease,’ she whispered, arching as he tickled the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

  ‘I’m only making up for what you did to me last night.’

  ‘That wasn’t teasing.’

  ‘Sure it wasn’t.’ He lowered his head back to her breast and tongued a line to her ribs. Stretching his long legs back, he began to shuffle further down the bed, dragging his hot mouth lower.

  ‘I don’t want to be teased, Dig.’ She tugged on his hair, forcing his head up. ‘I want you. Now.’

  ‘You’re spoiling my cunning plan.’

  ‘Your cunning-lingus plan, you mean?’ At his expression she laughed and tickled his cheek. ‘Later, lover.’

  ‘You don’t like it?’

  ‘Oh, I like it, believe me, but there’s something else I like just as much. Something that involves you, me and …’ she wiggled her eyebrows, ‘… that impressive appendage of yours.’

  ‘Impressive, huh?’

  ‘Very.’

  She tilted her head, curious if Digby had any idea of how intoxicating he was in bed. There was definite pride there but none of the hubris of Mike. Digby’s passion was spontaneous, fired by instinct. Mike had been all technique and mechanics. He’d had turning Jas on so fine-tuned she feared any other lover would be commonplace. But it was Digby’s humanity, his chuckles about mistakes, the funny fumblings and hesitant experimentation, the pure heart he put into his lovemaking that made him more special than Mike could ever be.

  Jas lifted her chin. ‘Come here.’

  Digby didn’t need to be told again. He scrambled back up the bed and was kissing her before she had time to laugh at his eagerness. And this time when he entered her, there was none of the residual worry of last night, none of the nervousness. Simply two people immersing themselves in the thrilling pleasure and intimacy of sex.