Powerful Destiny

by Tricia McGill

  Chapter Twelve

  Brigid shrugged into the jacket he held for her, saying, “That would be great.” With a sigh of relief, she walked to the main door of the hotel. For a while there she thought perhaps he was trying to find a way to bring the evening to an end in a hurry. The only alternative she thought of was asking him to accompany her to the bar where the locals congregated.

  Being alone with him was far more satisfactory. It was clear he was not used to spending a lot of time in the company of women. He admitted that his sister was the only other female in his life, apart from his mother, with whom he felt truly comfortable. Perhaps presumptuous of her, but Brigid hoped sincerely he would grow to accept her as a fixture in his life.

  It was chilly outside, but the wind had dropped, and a million stars decorated the night sky. As they strolled he kept a casual distance from her and Brigid wondered what he would do if she closed the gap and linked arms or hands with him. His reticence and shyness appealed to her—perhaps she could draw him out of his shell. It was now or never—only one way to find out. Taking the plunge, she did what she wanted and pushed her arm though his.

  For a moment she half expected him to break free, but instead he pressed her elbow into his side and secured her more firmly. “Have you seen any properties you fancy yet?” he asked, and Brigid thought there was a touch of huskiness in his question. Embarrassment, perhaps, at her temerity?

  “Not yet, but don't forget I've only just started looking. Know any other lighthouses for sale in these parts?” She nudged him with her elbow. “I'd love one like yours. I told you I have this urge to live by the sea. Well, couldn't get much closer than that, could I?”

  “There are about one hundred and fifty lighthouses around the British coast, but no others near here to my knowledge,” he said. “There are lots of houses right near the sea, though, so I’m pretty sure the estate agent will come up with something suitable. Quite a few people come down here, love the area so buy places, then find they can't cope with the rough weather in winter and desert us again to return to city living.”

  “I'm not about to do that.” Brigid took a deep breath of the fresh salty air. “Would you think me weird if I say I know I've found the place where I want to spend the rest of my days?”

  “Not at all.” He halted by the shop that sold souvenirs. Brigid had a feeling he wasn't looking at the assortment of shells, bottles of coloured sand, miniature boats and various knick-knacks on display in the window. “We have a lot in common, you and me.”

  “We do?” She cocked her head to one side. That was something she had worked out, but it was nice to hear him agree with her.

  “This love of the sea for one, and the desire to be near it.” They began to walk again. When they reached the low wall along the side of the jetty, he stopped again, staring into the darkness. The waves lapped the sea wall, singing and sighing their mystical age-old melody. “I'd better get you back.”

  That was not what she wanted at all, but she didn’t say as much as they retraced their steps. “I guess Hanno had to stay at home this evening,” she said instead. “I’ll bet that didn’t please him.”

  “You’re right. He expects to go everywhere with me, but I didn’t want to leave him out in the car for too long and doubt he would be welcomed in the dining room.”

  When they reached the door to the hotel, he stopped and faced her, politely said, “Thanks for a lovely evening. Goodnight Brigid,” and walked off.

  Dumbfounded, she stood inside the hallway of the hotel, shaking her head. Why didn’t he kiss her? Throughout the evening, she really thought they were becoming good friends if nothing more. An enigma he might be, but she certainly picked up vibes and was certain he found her attractive. Perhaps she scared him off with all her talk of past lives and soul mates. She was no expert on the way men’s minds worked but did know they were not into deep emotional discussions. But then again, she only had Michel’s behaviour to go by. It was clear as glass she would have to be the one to make the first move if she wanted this relationship with Rolf to make any progress.

  * * *

  Brigid parked her car alongside Rolf's in the shelter of the cliff. As she climbed out, she nibbled her lower lip. In the day and night since Rolf left her at the hotel, the hoped-for call did not come. All day yesterday, she waited vainly. She knew he possessed a mobile phone, for she saw him place it on the table during her visit to the lighthouse. A couple of times she contemplated asking the hotel owners if they knew his number but curbed that urge. They would likely think it strange for a newcomer to town to be calling a man who was a well-known loner, even knowing they did share a lunch and a dinner. This news must surely have spread around town by now, if she knew anything about women and their love of gossip, especially where the man obviously was not one for casual flirtations.

  Even so, if she was to make her home here, she certainly didn’t want to set the wrong impression before she even settled in. So far, the locals were all very obliging and welcoming. Patience had never been a strong trait in Brigid—especially when she made up her mind about something. Her mother always accused her of being too impulsive for her own good.

  Today was do or die day. If he made it clear he was not in the least interested, then she would simply have to be satisfied with that. That was not a conclusion she wanted to dwell on. As she walked along the narrow-protected pathway, her insides did a few quick somersaults. The sun appeared earlier and now at mid-morning it was almost spring-like. Birds flitted and swooped, making it clear they too thought spring just around the corner. This truly was a magnificent part of the country, and it would be disastrous if Rolf spurned her advances, so forcing her to search elsewhere for somewhere to settle.

  As she neared the lighthouse, Brigid looked up. Like a chieftain surveying his domain, Rolf stood at the rail watching her approach. From this distance she couldn’t judge how he felt at this intrusion. He lifted a hand and waved, then disappeared. At least he didn’t go inside when he spotted her and planned to not answer her call, which he could easily have done if he chose to pretend he wasn’t at home. Good grief, she was now becoming paranoid. It was more than likely he didn’t give a hoot about her one way or the other.

  As she climbed the steps, the door opened, and Hanno bounded out, whimpering with what she thought, and hoped, was pleasure as he met her, tail wagging. Brigid turned to watch him as he continued down, cocked his leg up a shrub, and then raced back, panting.

  When Brigid turned to face the door again, Rolf stood there, with a smile that made her insides whirl in a different way. “What a pleasant surprise,” he said.

  “Is it?” Uncertainty filled her. “I hope you don't think I'm intruding.” She pushed her hair back, now feeling like an awkward teenager. She castigated herself internally, she was a mature widow for goodness sake, not some tongue-tied juvenile.

  “Not at all. Glad to see you on such a fine day.” The door was held wide and he ushered her inside. “Come on up.”

  “Isn’t it? I was just thinking how fabulous it is today, with the sun shining and the birds busy. You really are lucky.” She began to mount the steps that wound around the inner wall of the lighthouse as he closed the door, intensely aware of him behind her as they went up. “I would have called first, but don't know your number, and didn’t like to ask anyone at the hotel in case they thought me a busybody.”

  “That's all right. Unexpected guests such as you are always welcome. I hope I didn’t give the impression I hate people popping in. I know my sister tells me often I should be more inviting.” He certainly didn't sound annoyed with her, more apologetic than anything. When they reached his living room, he asked, “Can I take your coat?”

  “Thanks. I didn’t realise the weather would warm up.” He helped her as she shrugged out of the short fleecy jacket, and then Brigid sat on the padded bench along the wall. Now she was here she was unsure what to say. And it seemed, so was he. What a pair they were.

  For a moment,
he stood with her jacket over his arm while he watched her fidget, before he turned to hang it behind the door. “Want a drink?”

  “Yes, please. Tea would be lovely.” Unaccustomed to feeling nervous Brigid chided herself again. What did she have to lose? If the worst came to the worst she would just slink away and find another town to settle in. That thought was upsetting. She watched as he put the water on to heat then poured the tea into two mugs. The fact that he remembered she liked it weak with one sugar and milk gave her hope.

  When seated in his easy chair, he asked, “Any luck with the house hunting?”

  “I found something I like yesterday afternoon. A terrific little cottage right on the street facing the sea, just along from the hotel. Do you know that place with the green gate and rambling garden?” Brigid fell in love with it as soon as she passed through the front door. “There are two rooms downstairs and two up. It has a modernised kitchen and bathroom, rare in this part of the world. I expected to have to completely refurbish any place I bought.”

  He grinned. “What a coincidence. I looked at that before I decided on the lighthouse. It has a lovely garden, and a friendly aura.”

  Amazed, Brigid stared at him. “Do you believe in auras and ESP?” Not many men shared her beliefs and Michel always laughed at what he called her odd feelings, much to her chagrin.

  Rolf sat forward, put his mug down and rested his elbows on his knees as he gazed at her, a look of puzzlement on his face. “I've never told anyone that before. Do you know you have the strangest effect on me, Brigid?”

  She laughed. “I know I'm strange. I've been told that before.”

  “No, you're not strange at all. Can I tell you something?” Now he looked uncomfortable.

  “Please do.” She also placed her empty mug on the table as she leaned forward.

  After a brief hesitation he said, “I had the oddest feeling that we've met before, and when you asked me if we'd met, I was dumbfounded.”

  Brigid’s jaw dropped. “That is odd.” Not only odd, also significant. Hadn't she felt sure they had a strong connection? “Why didn't you call me yesterday?” She flapped a hand, blushing at the stupidity of that abrupt demand. “I'm so sorry... now you really will think me strange.”

  His strong hands linked together, and he seemed to be searching for words. “I'm not very good at relationships as you no doubt guessed by now.”

  Brigid went to kneel before him between his parted knees. “Are any of us, Rolf? It's all a game of chance. Do you mind if I ask why you didn't marry the woman you were engaged to?”

  This close she could see herself reflected in his eyes. He hadn't moved since she positioned herself between his spread legs, and a multitude of emotions flitted across his face. None of them expressed distaste at her nearness.

  After a small shrug, he admitted, “It just wasn't the right thing to do. It would have been cheating. She was a nice woman and didn't deserve second best. Do you know what I mean?” His hands moved to his knees.

  Of course, she knew precisely what he meant. She should never have married Michel for that same reason. Taking his hands in hers, she linked their fingers, and said, “I have the fiercest desire to be kissed by you.”

  That shocked him, she could see it in his eyes. “Me too,” he said. “I've wanted to kiss you from the first moment I set eyes on you.” Moving his hands out of her grasp so he could cup her cheeks, he said softly, “I was worried you might find me too reserved and set in my ways.” He sent a quick glance about the room. “I've spent too many hours alone here with just my dog for company. I really don't know how to treat a lady.”

  “Nonsense. You've been doing fine so far. I have this premonition that we aren't going to be like other people, you and I.” When she ran her finger down his jaw and touched his mouth, she felt a quiver run through him.

  “Your ESP?” he whispered.

  “Either that or something far more mysterious. Would you kiss me, now, please?” Shuffling her knees, she moved forward until only a tiny space separated them.

  The first touch of his lips sent scorching heat to her extremities. Warmth settled in her core. No one—ever—had that effect on her with one simple kiss, certainly Michel never did. Brigid circled his neck with her arms at the same time he pulled her into his body so that she could feel his hardness. There was no doubt of the effect the kiss had on him. The effect on her senses was electric.

  He wore a thick woollen sweater and Brigid wanted it off, wanted to run her hands over his skin—another thing she had never experienced before. It seemed he shared the same urgent need, for he drew back far enough so he could lift her top, hesitating just long enough to see her nod in assent before dragging it up and over her head. Tossing it aside, his eyes grew hot as he studied the mounds of her breasts swelling in her lacy bra.

  Brigid had always been self-conscious of being over-endowed. Michel reinforced that belief by giving the impression that he found no pleasure in her full breasts, but by the way Rolf’s gaze feasted on what he'd uncovered, it proved he found them immensely pleasing.

  Without further hesitation, Brigid gripped the bottom hem of his sweater and dragged it over his head, thrilled to find he wore nothing underneath. As she ran her fingers over the smattering of red hairs on his chest, he shuddered. Brigid took his hands and directed them behind her. For a moment he fumbled with the clasp, but soon freed her breasts to his sizzling gaze.

  “You're so beautiful,” he said in a strangely thick voice.

  “No, I'm not, but it's nice of you to say so,” she said on a soft chuckle.

  “There are degrees of beauty, Brigid. We all see things differently. The first thing I noticed about you was your eyes.” He gently kissed each eyelid and it was Brigid's turn to shudder. “They're so incredibly expressive. The mirror to your soul. I have the feeling you have a beautiful soul. You're right, too—you have lived before.”

  “What made you say that?” She ran her fingertip across his mouth.

  He shook his head, looking puzzled. “I have no idea. It's just a feeling.” His eyes wandered to her breasts again, already proudly erect. “May I?”

  “I'll die if you don't.” Brigid closed her eyes, resting her forehead on his shoulder as he fondled her. The heat that pooled low down in her abdomen now turned her whole body to jelly. When she lifted her head and their lips met, an explosion of feeling sent her senses reeling. “I've never felt like this before.”

  Momentarily, she wondered if she admitted that aloud, but when he said huskily against her mouth, “Neither have I—at least not in this lifetime,” she knew she had voiced her feelings.

  Hanno pressed his cold, wet nose against her naked side, bringing her out of the trance she'd been wrapped in. When Rolf gave a gentle order, the dog went back to his blanket in the corner and flopped down with a sigh.

  “Can we go to your bed?” Once again, Brigid wondered if she said that out loud.

  “I thought you’d never ask. I’ll die if we don’t.” Their eyes locked and both laughed at his repetition of her earlier statement.

  As he stood, he gently pulled her up with him. Bending, Rolf easily lifted her, one hand around her back and the other beneath her knees. Brigid circled his neck with her arms and, lips joined, he carried her to the adjoining room. Opening her eyes briefly, she saw a ray of sunlight across the bed, and in that strip of light a vision of another couple appeared. They were similar in looks to Rolf and herself but with a slight difference.

  She frowned as she tried to work out what it was about the couple that was so striking, but then he was removing the rest of her clothing and Brigid became too wrapped up in sensations to think about anything but this man touching her with exquisite reverence.

  Brigid helped him with his belt, and then it was a matter of moments until both were naked. She knelt on the bed and he did the same, facing her. Now it was her turn to touch him, a thrill of awareness racing through her as she explored his shape. The smattering of red hairs narro
wed invitingly to his navel and she followed it down, reveling in his shudders as her fingers traced sensuous paths over his skin.

  “I might not be too good at this,” he admitted in a throaty whisper.

  “You're doing just right by me, Rolf.” Brigid smiled and let out a soft murmur of delight as he touched her pebbled nipples. “We belong together, you and I. Our bodies know that. Just look.”

  * * *

  Rolf followed her gaze to where his erection stood between them. As her fingers reached it, then hesitated a second, he held his breath. If she didn't touch him there soon he surely would die. At the first caress of her fingers on the tip he almost jumped out of his skin. She brushed her thumb backwards and forwards and the sensation this invoked was so overwhelming he felt it in every fibre of his being. More than anything, he wanted to be inside her, but also knew that he must prolong this moment, had to show patience.

  “That is amazing.” Rolf slowly lowered her to the bed and came down beside her. For a second, they stared into each other's eyes before their lips met. The old uncertainty returned but only lasted for a millisecond until her soft murmurs told him she shared his satisfaction.

  The feel of flesh sliding on flesh was incredibly erotic. Her fingers returned to his erection and it seemed she knew exactly where to touch him to give him the greatest pleasure. He stroked her belly, venturing lower, over the soft curls then into the damp hot valley below.

  “Oh, Rolf, that is so good,” she moaned low, pressing closer, still working magic on him with her skilled fingers and thumb. “I want you inside me, now.”

  Her body told him she was ready for him and he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in that heat and softness. She squealed low as he entered her, and he hesitated, opening his eyes. But it was a squeal of delight, for the smile on her lips was magic to see.