by Aria Ford
Am I really as bad as she said?
I swallowed hard, thinking of that. It was difficult to understand, difficult to know where I had gone wrong in his care for them. All these years since Ada had been here…I stopped. It was still too hard to think of her. Here, in this space, where I could almost, if I listened hard, hear her laughter on the air coming from the bedroom next door, where she lay in a satiny gown, just waiting for me…
Pull yourself together.
I shook his head, mind whirling. I had come in here to work, not to spend ages thinking about the new au pair! There were deadlines to meet, forms to fill in, deals to organize I didn’t need to waste this time as it is. I groaned, running a hand across my face, just thinking about it. I was tired. The excitement of having her here had made me forget that but it was true.
I reached across, yawning, taking one of the forms off the pile I had just printed and, glancing at the laptop I saw it was already nearly nine pm I really did have to get this stuff done soon. But I couldn’t stop my mind from going back over that unexpected confrontation, again and again. Couldn’t stop myself from thinking about the fact that she was here, somewhere, in my house. I had not felt like this for years. My cock was pulsing in my pants and my heart raced. I had thought myself devoid of desire, had thought he had long ago given up feeling this for any other woman. Until now.
Until a small, pert, and lovely young au pair had confronted me.
I swallowed, thinking of her curvy form in the tight jeans, her plaid blouse loose and casual under that abundance of shiny hair. I felt his throat tighten at the memory of her pale skin, the moist pinkness of her lips, the swell of breasts pushing the buttons of her shirt.
She is here somewhere, in my house. Alone.
I felt my hands clenching into fists. I shook my head, reaching for my pen. Forcing myself to think about work. I should not be thinking about her like this. She was my children’s nanny. I had met her three days before in a hallway, when she ran into me. And now. I recalled the brief first meeting with a smirk. She had cannoned into me, and for the briefest instant I had known what it felt like for those breasts to press against me, for that soft body to be pressed up close against me.
I wonder what she would do if I drew her close again. If I held her. Kissed her.
The thought sent an unfortunate excitation my groin I clenched my teeth, fighting it down. I would not touch her. I could stop right now in these games of imagining what she might be like in bed, what kind of a lover she might be. The thought of her, on her back, her smile broad, eyes closed, sent shivers through me. But I would not waste time on asking questions that must remain unanswered: what kind of a lover she was didn’t affect me.
The fact that I just almost fired her, though, did.
For that I had to apologize.
What if she took it into her head to leave? I was here for two days and then I would fly off for another business-meeting. A longer one. I could not imagine anyone with whom I would leave my children, besides her. And it was too late to start looking now. Besides, I trusted her. Already. If she would defend them against their father, how much more so against anything else?
Come on. Better go do it.
I glanced at the clock. It was past nine o’clock in the evening, well past suppertime. I had eaten a little at the dining-room table alone. I did not even know whether or not she ate something. Feeling a sudden pang of guilt for that, as well as for my earlier unkindness. I stood and walked slowly from the room.
I stopped at the window in the hallway, checking my reflection in the reflective surface. Couldn’t help laughing.
Alexander Carring, you are apologizing to a nanny. Not presenting a million-dollar deal at a business do. Or going on a date.
The last thought made my pulse quicken and I quickly fought it down. Walking along the hallway I reached the door to the room he had assigned Miss Blunt. Weird to feel this excitement, this sense of delicious anticipation, as I walked up the hallway but I did.
I reached the door. I knocked.
No answer.
I waited, listening. Somewhere, I could hear water running. And a thread of sound suggested someone sang. I listened, feeling my heart beat faster.
She was in the shower, clearly. It was not simply the thought of water cascading over that naked skin, glistening on her wet breasts and strong thighs that moved me, though. It was the strange intimacy and innocence of her voice. High and clear, it spoke to me of sweetness, of simple pleasures. Things I long ago lost…I am surprised to find she hadn’t.
I knocked again. The water was off now, but I did not receive an answer and assumed I had not heard. I was leaning on the lintel, lost in pleasant daydreaming when the door suddenly shot open. I found himself looking down into a face that looked up, as surprised to see me as I was in that moment.
“Uh, Miss Emma…”
I cleared his throat, feeling deliciously confused and faintly silly at once. It had been many years, too many, since I had been so surprised, so clearly put at disadvantage. The feeling was surprisingly nice. And she was, also, surprising.
This close, her fresh-washed hair just curling with the warmth of her skin, smelling of roses and toothpaste, mixed, her skin clean and radiant, I had to fight not to touch her.
Her eyes were wide open, the whites showing all around from shock. Her lips had parted, too, and the space between them was a little “o”. Perfect, he thought, for sliding in a tongue, for deepening a kiss, for tasting those sweet lips.
I groaned. Emma stared up at me, even more confused.
“Sir?”
She was wearing a dressing-gown, and the instant she had seen me, she had clutched it around herself. I could just see the soft white skin of her chest. I refused to let myself stare, made myself focus on her eyes.
“Forgive me, Miss Blunt,” I said, voice oddly raw. “I meant to come to tell you…to say that…Oh, damn it! Sorry,” I added, waving a long hand in a careless gesture that I hoped would convey confusion. “I wanted to say you should stay. You will, won’t you? For the month like we agreed on earlier?”
Emma stared up at me. I could not read her thoughts, but I tried. She looked confused.
I had to hide a smile, had to see it from her viewpoint too. A few hours ago, I had almost thrown her out. Now here I was, on her doorstep, as it were, all awkward and shy with her? It must have seemed very odd. It was. But somehow, maybe stupidly, it felt right.
“Mr. Carring,” Emma said, clearing her throat. Hearing her call me that made my heart contract. I wanted to correct her. Wanted to ask her to call me Alexander. That would be weird, I supposed. I left it as it was for now. I didn’t want to scare her. “I’m sorry. I was showering.” She continued.
She made an embarrassed gesture with her hands, taking in the tatty bathrobe, the wet hair, the lack of makeup of any kind. “If you want to discuss our contract, perhaps I should…dress?” she gave a weak laugh and inclined her head sideways.
“Oh, um, yes. Fine. Of course,” I said distractedly. Emma glanced sideways at him.
“What?”
“Nothing. I was distracted. By, um…the view. Out of the window. Isn’t it nice?” He gestured to the window that looked out over the pool. Lit with floodlights, the water blueish and inviting, it actually was nice. It was only after she frowned at me that I realized how stupid what I had said was. I hadn’t been facing the window when talking to her.
“I’ll get decent,” Emma said decidedly, then ducked inside.
I stood there with my teeth clenched while I thought about Emma dressing in the room beyond the firmly closed door. I thought about what her breasts must look like—full, but well shaped. I imagined her nipples to be reddish, her body gently curved and her skin pale under the harsh lights. I felt my dick harden and I wished she would come out of there. She had to put me out of my torture!
“I guess we should meet in my office, yes?” I said when she came out a few minutes afterward.
�
��Okay,” Emma agreed with a little frown.
A tingle spread up from my groin through my whole body. I was already aroused, and everything about her aroused me more. Something about the sway of her walk was so alluring that I wanted to reach out and draw her toward me. I sighed.
Come on. You can’t very well take her down there and seduce her.
I walked along the silent hallway, feet sinking into the satiny carpet. She followed. We reached the office.
“Here we are,” I said, seeming suddenly hesitant. “My private abode.”
Emma bit her lip. I wondered what she was thinking. She seemed nervous somehow. I sighed. I wished that I could do something to relieve her nervousness, but, then, I myself didn’t exactly feel confident, what with her so close and in my private space. I shouldn’t have taken her here…I should have spoken somewhere more neutral. But I had. I couldn’t very well change my mind now, not without looking really weird.
We faced each other over the achingly-neat desk, suddenly hesitant.
“I asked you here to…”
“I guess I should…”
We both spoke at once, then we both laughed.
“Sorry,” I began, recovering my equilibrium first. “I wanted to say sorry. For earlier. And to ask if we could reconsider. I want you to stay here.”
Emma stared at me. “Of course,” she said. “I mean, it’s not like we tore up the contract or anything…” she chuckled weakly, looking down at the desk.
“Emma.”
The way I said her name surprised even me. I cleared my throat, wanting to try again, less meaningfully, less gentle, but my mouth was dry. Emma looked up at me, eyes big and longing.
“What?” she asked gently.
“I…” I stopped. I didn’t know what to do from here. She was looking up at me, eyes big and wide and tender. My whole body was aching for her, to touch that smooth skin, to feel her lips part under my lips. She had such beautiful skin, as soft and pliable as petals, or so I was imagining at that moment. I faced her and leaned in toward her slowly.
I hope she doesn’t hate me.
I couldn’t help it, though. I had to kiss her. Had to try and if it didn’t happen now it was never going to happen. Her lips met mine. She did not flinch away.
I felt his loins ignite. Her mouth was soft, so much softer even than it looked. My lips were gentle and they nipped at hers, exploring hers carefully. She sighed and those sweet lips parted just a little, letting me in. It was a wonderful feeling, my tongue inside her mouth, on hers. Her mouth tasted minty and sweet and perfect. My tongue flickered over the moist patch I had left there on her lips, and, as she made a small noise, I slid inside for a second go. She let her own tongue slide along my own. She tasted like mint and something sweet and sinfully-nice. I felt my own body catch fire.
I broke the kiss and found myself feeling suddenly weak. I leaned on the desk, eyes closed, face before hers. This is the first time I have felt anything for anyone since Ada. Certainly nothing anywhere close to this.
But what did Emma think of me?
“Sorry,” I said, eyes still closed. When I opened them again, I wasn’t sure what she saw on my face, but she looked worried. Her brow raised and a little frown appeared there.
“Sorry?” she said softly. She didn’t seem to think I had anything to say sorry for, which was in itself a relief.
“I…it was wrong of me to…to do that,” I stuttered. “Not just because…” I left it there, then stood up straight again. I didn’t want to just say: “It was wrong of me because I employ you.” That wasn’t why it was wrong. What if she hadn’t wanted that kiss?
Shaking my head as if to clear it from sleep, I opened my eyes again. I looked at her. Emma stared back. Her hands reached for mine. I felt my breath catch in my throat. Any way she could have responded, I would have expected, I thought. But not this. I took her hand, squeezed it hard. Ada’s picture watched me from the shelf and the memory, of her and of what had happened to her, made me pause. I withdrew my hand.
“Mr. Carring?”
“Alexander,” I found myself saying automatically. Then I sighed. “Sorry. This is silly. It’s late. Forgive my…my lapse of manners. We are agreed you will stay the month. Yes? We will reassess then. Please forget what…we just did. I apologize for it.” I swallowed hard, wishing that I didn’t have to say that, but knowing I did. For her sake, even more so than for mine. I felt my jaw clench as if reluctant to get out the words.
Emma stared at me. His accent was brittle, and, as I noticed, at its most perfect. I tend not to sound overtly British unless I am at a tense business meeting or I feel pressured. Now I must have felt really, really stressed.
“I understand, Mr. Carring,” she said softly.
I closed my eyes. Now I hurt her. Chased her away. At least, she would think me crazy, or slightly odd. At worst, she would hate me. But I could bear it. It was better if she thought that I was horrible than that she was really to get involved with me. Better for her. Better for me too and in the far-distant future I would probably be aware of that. I just wasn’t now. I decided to keep up the hateful character a while as it seemed like the best way to solve this particular problem.
“Now go,” I said hoarsely. “It’s late and I need to catch up with work.”
Emma nodded and, silent, she stood, walking across the carpet, her high-heeled shoes leaving a soft trace in the rich, soft pile of it. She stopped at the door.
I had not moved. I was staring straight ahead, looking through her. Emma reached for the door handle and very quietly opened and shut it behind her.
As she closed it, leaving me alone in the office, I sighed and collapsed back onto the chair.
“Ada, forgive me.”
I closed his eyes, letting the traces of the lust that had risen so suddenly, slowly dissipate. I knew that my body longed for the sweet curves and scented skin of this lovely woman. But my heart was not mine. Ada had taken that with her, when she left me. I should remember that. I had to remember that, and all it meant.
Ada.
Her picture regarded me from the shelf and I recalled the torment of losing her, the pain that wounded his heart and wounded it, every day. I could not afford to forget what happened, to forget my rage, my sense of blame and guilt. I would not let that happen to anyone again. Not now.
“Ada,” I whispered. Help me.
Miss Blunt was right. I had hurt my children, making them lose their already-tentative trust in me. What if they never regained that trust? What if they learned to fear, and then to hate. Ada would not have wished for that.
But I only want to protect them. I want to keep them safe from all harm. I could not bear to lose them.
I sighed. I ran a weary hand down my face, letting my nerves settle. I looked at the clock. It was late. I really should finish my correspondences now and then go to bed. I had been moving all day, after all. Maybe that was what had happened to me, at least in part. Had made me lose my mind as I had tone about her today.
It’s my mind; it’s playing tricks.
I sighed and, opening up my sheaf of correspondences, settling down to work.
Chapter 5
Emma
“Run, run!”
“You can’t catch me…I’m a gingerbread man!”
Two childish voices arced up through the still air as I sat on the lawn, watching Jack race Cammi across the grass. The evening smelled of dew and dust and the shadows stretched away from them, caressing the velvety grasses around their feet.
“Enough!” I laughed, as the two children collapsed in a panting, tired heap. “That was a tie! For certain.”
“Told you,” Cammi said smugly, wriggling up onto her elbows and pulling a tongue at Jack. Jack grinned and dusted off his knees.
“Cars are still faster,” Jack said, sounding matter-of-fact.
I laughed. The memory of the other night still tormented me with its sweetness, its utter confusion. Alexander Carring had kissed me. His kiss had
melted my body like no other kiss had, leaving me wanting him and leaving me with more questions.
“Emma! I’m tired.” Cammi’s voice broke through my reverie.
“Come and sit here, then,” I said. I indicated the thick, soft grass beside me. The whole garden was beautiful and I was glad the weather was so good, allowing us to spend whole mornings outdoors.
The children came to sit beside me. Cammi leaned against my leg where I sat with my fingers looped around a knee. Jack sat in front of me and I rested a hand on his shoulder, gently. He leaned back and the three of us shared a moment of still happiness. It was wonderful to sense their trust, their sense of ease with me and mine with them.
“Tell us a story,” Jack asked quietly.
“Yes!” Cammi exploded, jumping up instantly. “One with fairies. Please, Emma?”
I grinned. The last week had seen me telling several stories, all woven from my wildest imaginings and remembered tales of my childhood. They seemed to amuse the kids, and they helped me, as well. At least if she let my imagination run freely, I didn’t have time to think about Alexander. Or that kiss. Or Ada.
“Okay, okay,” I agreed, still chuckling softly. “And I promise it won’t just be about fairies,” I added to Jack, grinning, seeing his crestfallen expression cross his face.
“Okay.”
I cleared my throat. “A long time ago, in a forest, was a clearing not unlike this one. And in this clearing lived a big troll.”
“No! Not a troll,” Cammi protested, dropping the stalks of grass she was playing with. “A fairy. You promised.”
“She’s going to be part of the story in a minute. Bear with me. This wasn’t just any troll. This was an enchanted one. Really, inside, he was a handsome prince. Just waiting to come out.”
As I told the story, I realized, with some surprise, that it was about Alex. He was the troll. Yes, he might have been beautiful both inside and out—I had to admit that to myself. But he did his best to be scary and to drive people away. The fairy, who tried to make him see his good side, and loved him despite his forbidding exterior was…is it me?
