Shadows of the Past

by Frances Housden

  Maybe this was her answer. Franc finding the school photo had happened so darn pat. It was his comment about her looking like a little nun that had done it; upset Mamma. But how was he to know of the three scars she bore, silvered through time, but scars nonetheless. Three crosses.

  “You know what I’m talking about, hon.”

  He wasn’t really wheedling, but there was an edge of disappointment in his tone. Yeah, she knew what he was talking about, trust.

  “You want to know what upset us, is that it?” Her question bounced around the confined space of the car, ricocheting off windows that looked like miniature waterfalls. The rain was so heavy they would be lucky not to run into flooding on the flat ground closer to Warkworth.

  “Jeez, was I that obvious?”

  She flashed him an annoyed glance and caught him grinning at her. “Keep your eyes on the road, you’re making me nervous.”

  “I will. I’ll keep my eyes glued to the road while I listen to your answer.”

  Sased around, her shoulder leaning against the door. There was a slight draft blowing through it and the damp air chilled her to the bone. To the heart. She’d known Franc for less than five days and from what she’d already confessed, he’d imagined her life had only one direction and that was down.

  “That photo was taken the week before I was abducted. Mamma got it in the mail the day I disappeared.” She twisted the handkerchief Franc had given her between her fingers. The red stains hadn’t gone; they lingered like old blood.

  “How long were you missing?” He spoke so low she leaned toward him. “How long did he hold you?”

  “I’m told it was less than a week. I don’t remember. And I don’t want to…” She stopped, forgot what she was going to say as the car began to slide into the middle of the road. “My God, what’s happening?”

  “We’re hydroplaning! Hands over your face in case I can’t get us out of it.”

  The tail broke away as Franc steered into the skid, and through the fingers covering her eyes she watched the rain on the windows changed from waterfall to whirlpool as they spun right around and back again. There was a buzzing in her ears as if all the air had been wrung out of the car.

  Franc recited curses, some of them she’d never heard of, and just as she thought they’d be sure to land in a ditch or hit a tree, he wrenched the wheel round and the car zoomed up a side road all cylinders firing.

  There was a buzzing in her ears. She’d forgotten to breathe. Her first gasp kick-started her burning lungs. The second gave her back her voice. “My God, I thought we were dead for sure.”

  “You and me both, hon. Hell, am I glad we were wrong.”

  He pulled the car over into a small slip road in front of a fruit stall and halted. Jerking back the parking brake, he shut down the engine. “It’s not true what they say, you know.”

  “What do they say?”

  He turned in his seat and gave her a look that warmed her cold bones, melted them. “That your life flashes in front of your eyes. At least, if it did I was too busy to look.”

  She stared at him a little longer as she unfastened her seat belt. “I had my eyes covered—most of the time.”

  But they weren’t covered now. She watched him punch the button on his seat belt and met him halfway. Halfway to his arms. Halfway to his mouth. No one had ever kissed her this way before, with such feeling, such passion, not even Franc.

  She gave herself up to his embrace, his lips, and kissed him with more heat, more heartfelt emotion than she’d ever kissed anyone before, not even Franc.

  In the midst of death, they’d chosen life, chosen each other.

  For now anyway…

  Chapter 8

  The downpour had stopped by the time they drew up in the driveway of the Northcote Point villa Maria shared. They were almost an hour later than they’d calculated, due to the rain and other stuff. Pleasurable stuff. The car windows had been as wet inside as out by the time they resumed their journey, he’d had to wipe the condensation off so they could proceed.

  Swinging her legs to exit the car, she let her lips curve into a smile as she stood. Not everything in her life at present had a downside.

  On the driver’s side, Franc got out. She watched him across the low roof of the sports car as he walked round to open the trunk and remove her bags. He caught her gaze, and her contented expression.

  A flash of white teeth broke up the natural tan of his skin, and her grin broadened. They stood gazing at each other down the length of the car like a pair of loons until he looked at his watch and moaned, “Still five hours until I pick you up again.”

  Too long.

  “I’ll take a cab tonight. That way I won’t have to drink and drive, and since you’re the expert on wines, I’m depending on you to choose something special for the occasion.”

  The thought painted a slash of heat across her cheeks.

  The occasion. She supposed that was one way to classify her deflowering. If his car hadn’t been so small, they might have already accomplished it in the middle of the storm. Now, wouldn’t that have been something to tell her grandchildren…oops, if she ever had any, they weren’t likely to be Franc’s.

  “I’ll be waiting. Plenty of time left to get ready.” She held out her hand for the bags, but he shook his head.

  “Uh-uh. Remember, I need to come in and check the place out. I’m not leaving you alone until I’m sure it’s safe.”

  When her parents fussed these days, she wanted to say, “Relax, I’m a big girl now. I can take care of myself.” But when Franc did it, her fancy was to cuddle up close to him and enjoy. Take it while you can get it, hon, she mused stealing Franc’s little endearment. It won’t last forever. That’s for real.

  “Okay, I’ll go ahead and open the door.” With all the dampness in the air, the wood creaked as it opened, after she put her shoulder to it. She picked up on Franc’s amusement as he came up the three porch steps behind her. “That door’s slightly arthritic with age. It takes a lot to move it. I think its body has shrunk around its bones.”

  “More likely the door has swelled as a result of the rain front passing through. Probably only needs a little taken off the top and bottom. Remind me to take a look at it sometime.”

  Sometime in the next ten days? She knew for all he appeared eager to be with her, an underlying part of his mind was chomping at the bit. He wanted to be back at work finishing the project she was researching for him, since it was in the very last stages of development.

  He put the bags at her feet. All business again, he told her, “Wait here while I do a quick recon of the house. I’ll whistle when it’s safe to

  She bit her bottom lip to prevent herself from laughing as he came back to pick up the bags. “I could have managed those myself, you know, I have muscles.”

  “Don’t spoil the surprise. That’s something I want to discover for myself. But that’s not what’s tickling you. Come on, cough up, hon, what have I done to amuse you?”

  Less than a foot separated them. This close she had to tilt her head back to see his face. His raised eyebrows made another question redundant. She inched closer and his mouth quirked crookedly to one side. She’d remembered the heart-throb he reminded her of, but she wouldn’t tell him, he was too darn pleased with himself this afternoon as it was, without making his head any bigger. Another inch and she said, “I was simply imagining what would have happened if one of the other girls had come back early and you’d burst in on them.”

  She batted her eyelids, testing the newly discovered power of a woman over a man. His eyebrows drew a line above the serious brown depth of his irises as they mirrored his thoughts.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but they’re not due back for another ten days or so, are they?”

  “You’re right. I told you it was all imagination, and if I had heard screams of outrage I would have come racing to your rescue.” She considered for a moment and stretched higher, closer to his mouth. Maria could almost t
aste him. She moistened her lips anticipating his kiss. Anticipating the sensations his mouth drew from her and the images he would paint in her mind.

  The bags hampered his hands and prevented him from pulling her into his arms, or so she thought, as with one palm to steady her on his chest, she brushed his mouth with hers, teasing it with her tongue.

  She was wrong. Waiting for his mouth to open set her heart racing and made her brain dizzy with suspense. But she wasn’t held in no-man’s-land for long. A thump echoed through the hallway as he released the handles. He captured her lips with a determined slant of his mouth, and her body with his freed hands. They splayed across her back pulling her into him, into the magic and mystery he spun with his touch, his kiss. “Mmm.”

  Her sigh just about covered all she was capable of uttering.

  They were standing in the open entranceway where anyone could see them, but that was of no account compared to giving herself up to Franc’s embrace and waiting for the world to stand still.

  Time twisted and spiraled like two fine wraiths of smoke that became one. Coalescing until a second before the vanishing point, they formed one bright shining moment. The vision was as clear as crystal in her mind. She wondered Franc didn’t see it, as well.

  He’d anticipated an earlier arrival, knowing Maria’s work schedule and how conscientious she was, always hanging her clothes outside the wardrobe ready for the next day. But, she hadn’t come alone and he’d barely jumped out the back window in time to watch from the bushes.

  Look at her flaunting her ardor like a slut for anyone to see. For him to see. Did she know he was out here watching? Was this her way of taunting himThe view from where he’d hidden was perfect, almost too perfect, he decided as he predicted Jellic’s next move and cursed when he was proved correct.

  His massive hands closed over her small butt as he lifted her up on him, then the bags were kicked aside as the jerk shouldered the door shut, as if in his face.

  Pretty Maria. He knew the way to cool Jellic’s, or better still, Maria’s ardor.

  With the tip of his knife.

  Maria knew his skills, his precision work. The weight of the weapon at his hip never bothered him. Comforted more like. He patted it like someone else might spoil a pet.

  Ha! He’d see who got the last laugh then.

  Instinct drove Franc in the direction of Maria’s room.

  No time for thought, no time for anything but Maria and the need to finish what they’d started a few hours ago in his car. With the echo of one closing door still ringing in his ears he heeled her bedroom door shut and turned, pressing her back against it to leave his hands free to explore her curves freely.

  His heart hammered in his ears as he found her breast and let the perfection of its fit—its weight—in his palm, whip through him like a cyclone.

  He was as hard as hell and getting harder as she gathered him to her, hooking her ankles behind him until the steel in his flesh cushioned its ache in the softness that held the only remedy for what ailed him.

  Lust; there was no other name for it in his vocabulary. He’d always been a quick study, a good student at school, and from the beginning he’d learned his ABC’s and minded his p’s and q’s, but he’d never learned or wanted to be taught about the L word.

  The heat from Maria’s mouth threatened to envelope him in a fire that he might not be able to put out, but he’d walked away from worse situations in his life—his family for one—and he could do it again.

  Making a slight adjustment to their current position, he scraped his knuckles against the doorframe. The inside of the door had to be as unwieldy as concrete and just as uncomfortable for Maria. This was stupid. Damn straight it was, when there was a bed lying in wait for them on the other side of the room.

  “Hang on tight now, I’m going to try to carry you over to the bed without spoiling the good thing we’ve got going.” He pressed in closer, making sure there was no mistaking the thick, pulsing length on the wrong side of his zipper.

  She cocked her head to one side, dragging her passion-weighted lids open to look at him. Her pupils were blurred with a desire that echoed his own, and for the first time in a year he wondered what the hell he’d been thinking, staying celibate all those months when Maria had in actuality been working with him, albeit on the other end of the phone or an e-mail.

  Her lips were full and red from the ravishment he’d put them through as she clasped her hands behind his neck. “I’m ready, take me where you will.”

  “Oh, I will, you can bet the house on it.” He took a step backward, then another, taking it easy as if they had all the time in the world, instead of as if he was liable to explode if he didn’t get inside her in the next few minutes. But his plan was to land on the bed with Maria on top. Her slight weight against him had brought home the huge differences in their build. Crushing her wasn’t a good start for what he had in mind.

  Ever helpful, in a voice far more assured than he’d imagined at this moment, she told him, “Two more steps and you’ll be lined up with the bed.”

  “If I end up on the floor, look out, little…” The feel of her stiffening in his arms sent cold shivers through him.

  She’d changed her mind.

  Unwinding her arms and legs, she cried, “Oh my God, look at that!” In less than a heartbeat she twisted out of his grasp and spun away, grabbing his hand. “Look.”

  The old disused hearth was filled with pinecones and twigs with dried leaves arranged to fill its empty corners, but on the mantel above, little figurines he hadn’t paid much heed to last time he’d been in the room were lying down in pairs. Shepherds lying over shepherdesses and so on, down the width of the wooden mantelpiece. “Is this one of your friend’s ideas of a joke?”

  “They haven’t got it in them to be so crude.” She’d begun straightening the ornaments before he could say, “No, leave them as they are.”

  “But I always keep them just so. I like to look at them from the bed.” His head turned in the same direction as hers, though his reason was more about what he’d missed than Maria’s view when in bed.

  Maria clutched at his wrist, squeezing as if his presence gave her the strength to take in what they saw; the imprint of someone’s body pressed into the feather duvet. She whirled into his arms and flung her shuddering body against him, but not with fear, as he soon discovered.

  “I’m so angry. Dammit!

  “He has almost spoiled everything, being so happy, wanting you more than I wanted the breath to tell you.” Her shoulders lifted against his palms as he did his best to quell the anger pulsing through her body. “Thank the Lord we stopped when we did. I’d hate the memory of my first time to be tainted by his presence. It’s almost as if he was watching us now.”

  Franc’s back teeth ground down on his anger, filtering the worst of it out so Maria wouldn’t know of the murderous force that roared in his head. His inspection had been too cursory. What if he hadn’t decided not to wait any longer? What if Maria hadn’t teased him into it? Would that pervert have returned the moment his back was turned?

  “I can’t let you stay here.”

  As if she hadn’t heard, she crossed to the window and pulled up on the handles. The sash slid up without any effort. “I wonder if we have nails anyplace. That would fix him.”

  “Maria, did you hear what I said? I can’t leave you in this house on your own. You have to come home with me.”

  “I heard.” She said it softly, as if something had drained her of the anger that haled over when she’d seen the crude arrangement of the figurines and then Searle’s shape on the bed. Who else could it be? Tony? It hadn’t been Arthur, for they’d left him behind—he remembered the long hour they’d passed in his car—or had they? He found he much preferred to see her raging, to the fragile silence that encased her now.

  Her gaze wandered the room without lighting on anything for more than a second or evincing any reaction until she stood and hurried to the bedside table with
its pictures of her family. She picked up a lavish Christmas card. “Look what he’s left. Too bad he neglected to sign it.”

  “That’s it,” he growled. “I’ve had enough.”

  He swung on his heel and practically ripped the door off its hinges as the memory of Maria plastered against its hard surface threw him off balance. Franc was halfway down the hall before he heard her call out, “Where are you going?”

  “To call the cops. Something you should have done before this got out of hand.”

  Later that evening, he told her, “We could have called off the dinner, hon. I don’t know if taking you out tonight actually makes sense after getting that kind of shock. And well, hell, this time of year they probably have queues of people waiting for cancellations.”

  Maria took a sip of her wine. It was exactly what she needed. Not for the shock, to get past Franc’s gentle treatment as if she was one of the little ornaments that had been so maligned. She much preferred the Franc who’d pushed her against the door and let her feel his desire in the most explicit way possible. She had nine days left to her—and Franc. She wasn’t going to let Randy Searle rub his grubby mind all over what was her best chance of experiencing a once-in-a-lifetime sexual encounter, which, going by Franc’s rules, was the safest name for what they had going.

  “Franc.” He stopped midconcern, catching her impatience on the fly the moment she said his name.

  “You are my lover not my mother—”

  “Not your lover, either.”

  “Okay, if you want to be punctilious, my almost lover. As almost as anyone has been.” She slipped off her sandal under the table, determined to turn the tone of the evening toward more earthy matters. If being new at this didn’t spoil the fun.

  So, she’d missed the first time?

  Her second attempt was more successful as she wiggled her toes into the space between the cuff of his pants and his leg.