“Fucking bitch”, he pushed his length into her and moaned with pleasure and she could feel herself recoil slightly, almost repulsed. Andrea closed her eyes and tried to get back into the mood. What was wrong with her? Up to a moment ago she had been eager for this man to enter her, now she wanted to push him away. Opening her eyes she looked up at him, hoping that the old feelings would come back. The face wasn’t Steve’s, it was a lover from another time, the handsome and rugged man of her dreams; it was Alex MacDonald’s face she saw, the man she had almost forgotten, the man she loved. The memories came flooding back and she fought back the tears as she remembered his gentle love making, their nights of passion alone in the strange room of her dreams. Her heart ached with the memories, but they were not her memories, just her imaginings –what else could they be? The more Steve thrust away inside her, the more she felt the hatred for him rise up inside her, and all the time the face of Alexhander MacDonald was in front of her.
She was relieved when, with a final jerk, he came, the lust rushing from him as the semen dripped out of her ravaged pussy to wet the inside of her thighs. His body flopped like a dead weight on top of her and for a moment she felt sullied, and something almost akin to disgust for this man who almost felt like a stranger.
Within a minute he was breathing heavily, almost snoring as he fell into a deep snooze, his weight almost crushing her.
Easing out from under him, she quietly made her way to the bathroom to clean herself in the shower. It was ridiculous but she wanted the stench and sweat of this man away from her. Once the bathroom door was closed she broke down, sitting on the floor and weeping. What on earth was happening to her? Yesterday she had been jealous of another woman making advances towards Steve and today she loathed him, after such a promising night. He hadn’t done anything wrong, Steve had just been, well Steve. It was her; it was all in her head. She was in love with a man she could barely remember, someone who was surely a figment of her imagination, she was going mad.
Once her tears had dried she showered for the second time that day. It was good to feel clean again. Steve would probably sleep until morning, so she could go to bed alone. Kate would be ringing her tomorrow with the results of the blood tests, it would give her an opportunity to explain all of these confusing thoughts and feelings. Maybe there was something wrong after all?
Slipping on her dressing gown she moved into the kitchen and started to clear the table; one of her pet hates was waking in the morning to last night’s dirty dishes. As she cleared away she noticed a brochure on the work bench; the new exhibition Steve had been working on with Helen. ‘Runes and Relics - Man and Myth’ –the title jumped out at her as she opened the pages. There was a picture of Helen on the inside cover and Andrea shivered as the cold and lifeless eyes looked back at her. The woman was like a lizard, she didn’t seem human and there was something startling and familiar about her face. She had felt the same yesterday evening in the gallery.
She slowly read the blurb. The exhibition was travelling around the world and it was a collection of ancient artefacts, art and objects from the dark medieval period of history. The catalogue showcased a few of the more rare and interesting objects. Ancient religious paintings and statues carved out of the finest stone. There were illustrated manuscripts dating back to the time of St Bede and Columba, Andrea was tired and was just about to close the brochure when one of the photographs caught her eye. ‘The Runes of Argyll – an ancient mystery’.
It was the picture of an ancient rune, ‘as old as time’ the poetic language of the publicity material read. The last remaining rune of Argyll; Norse legend has it that the God Odin forged 2 runes that were blessed with the secrets of the Gods. Any man possessing one of them would have the power of immortality at his fingertips, like the very God’s themselves. Andrea dropped the brochure onto the floor. She had seen this rune before; there was one just like it sat inside a drawer in her bedside table.
Andrea sat for a moment on a stool by the work bench, trying to make sense of the strange happenings over the last two weeks. Her grandmother had died and left her the Rune, her last request had been that Andrea take the Rune to the Isle of Iona in the Western Hebrides of Scotland and place it on a gravestone in the little chapel graveyard. Everything since then had been hazy. She had fainted or blacked out at the graveside and ever since then she had started to have strange dreams and imaginings, almost as if she had been back in time. Alex MacDonald had been there, she was sure of that. But was it all true or was her mind playing tricks on her?
It was too much of a coincidence, it had to be. Only two of the runes in existence and both in New York and connected to her. Helen was connected, she had to be. Leaving the dishes she ran into the bedroom and quietly closed the door. Opening the dressing table drawer she reached her hand inside and took out the rune. It was such a small and insignificant looking stone, yet there was something about its simplicity that she had never noticed before. She had placed it into the drawer and forgotten all about it on her return.
Andrea removed her dressing gown and found an old pair of pajamas. She generally went to bed naked, enjoying the cool of the sheets against her skin, yet tonight she wanted to feel safe and warm, besides, there was a buttoned pocket in the pajama top where she could keep the rune safely next to her. It seemed a silly thing to do, yet she almost felt compelled to do it. Her grandmother had passed it on to her, entrusted her granddaughter, and she was now its keeper.
That night Andrea did not sleep well; her dreams were strange and disturbing and she wrestled with a darkness that filled her heart and head with unrest. At one point she thought she saw a figure in her room - a black cloaked figure, almost a ghost flitting in and out of the shadows. She could hear the sound of objects being moved, doors opening and closing, drawers sliding open and the rustle of papers and clothes before they were shut once more. At one point she thought she could feel someone's breath upon her face, could feel the weight of another presence bearing down on her but she kept her eyes tightly shut. When she awoke she was alone.
***
The early morning sun was streaming through the light fabric of the curtains and Andrea rubbed her eyes as she glanced around the room. The dream had been so real but as she looked around, nothing had been disturbed. Her mind was playing tricks once more.
But then she noticed it, faint at first but definitely in the air; the lingering sweet and heavy smell of expensive perfume and she recognized it at once. It was not one of her own favorites; it was too heavy - too powerful, she preferred the lighter and more floral fragrances.
Andrea remembered where she had noticed the aroma - at the opening night of the exhibition in the gallery. It was Helen's perfume.
Sitting up straight her heart began to beat fast. Something was happening and it was not all in her head - it was very real and tangible, but she could not think what it was or why. What did Helen want from her? Had Helen really been in her room last night and if so, what was she looking for?
Her hand brushed against her pajama pocket - the rune still safely there, weighing slightly heavy against the flimsy material. There had to be a connection but it was not clear. There was the new exhibition too - Runes and Relics - everything was starting to link up but she was still no wiser. Was the rune of monetary value, is that what Helen was looking for? Surely a pair would be valuable but why would she act like a thief in the night? Helen was a respected figure in the arts world and very rich, why the furtiveness and mystery? Taking the rune from her pocket Andrea looked carefully at the small engraved stone. She didn’t believe in all the ancient mumbo jumbo, but there was something going on, something that she couldn’t quite grasp, but all paths led to this small object in her hand. She had to keep it safe, but where? Glancing around the room she thought carefully. It had to be a place no-one would think of looking. She wasn’t one for ornaments and the like, her own belongings were pretty sparse and she didn’t believe in personal clutter. Even from her own childhood she ha
d only kept a few things, an Enid Blyton illustrated companion and an old teddy bear with one eye and not much fur; definitely the worse for wear but more lovable because of it.
It gave her an idea. Picking up the bear Andrea fetched the small sewing kit from her dressing table drawer. She had hated sewing at school and only kept the kit for extreme emergencies.
Holding the bear at arm’s length she looked him straight in the one beady eye.
“Sorry Ted, this has to be done. It won’t hurt a bit” and she began to pick away at his soft side seam with a small pair of scissors, creating a small gap, just big enough to slot the stone into, before stitching up the seam and making him whole again.
“There. That wasn’t so bad was it, now don’t you tell a soul” and with that she sat the Ted back into the old basket chair.
Andrea smiled at her eccentricity. If anyone had told her a few weeks ago that she would be hiding an old rock in a stuffed bear she would have thought them crackers. Instead it seemed that she was the one that was slightly unhinged, yet hiding the rune had made her mind feel easier, safer. It was almost a relief.
The whole thing seemed so ridiculous in the light of day. All smoke and mirrors like something out of a bad novel, yet she couldn't deny there was something happening. Glancing at the clock, the digital numbers blinked out 8:10. She could hear a stirring in the next room - Steve was waking. It was probably best not to tell him her fears. He would only think that she was definitely crazy. She still didn't believe him about Helen. Something was going on and he was sure to confide everything she said to that woman. She would just have to be quiet whilst she worked it out for herself. At least the rune was safe.
The bedroom door opened just as she was about to go into the shower. Steve grabbed at her naked body but she managed to whisk herself into the shower before he had time to get too amorous. She had been repulsed by his lovemaking last night, somehow it had felt all wrong and the niggle still played on her mind. She could feel his eyes on her as he watched her shower through the glass cubicle, as she rubbed the shower gel over her body, the spray of the water splashing over her, the water beading across her skin and running in rivulets down her long legs. It never ceased to turn him on and she knew that once she had finished he would be waiting for her. The thought of it almost made her sick. A mobile phone beeped in the distance and Steve reluctantly left the bathroom, winking at Andrea through the steam.
A few seconds later he was back in the bathroom, splashing cold water across his face and shouting; the mood of a few seconds ago lost.
“Bloody hell Andrea, why didn’t you tell me what time it was, I didn’t know it was so late! A reporter from the New York Tribune is meeting me at the gallery at 9 to do a feature on me and the exhibition. I’ve got to dash, see you later”.
He rushed out of the bathroom and a few minutes later she heard the outside door bang shut. He was gone. Switching off the water she stepped out of the shower and wrapped an oversized towel around her. Thank god he had gone. Last night during sex she had felt as if she were almost cheating on someone and that someone was a figment of her imagination – Alex MacDonald – a shadowy figure from the past that had haunted her ever since she had returned home from Iona. She closed her eyes and could almost feel him, his strong arms wrapped around her.
A phone rang out from the bedroom, this time it was her phone. Slipping into her dressing gown she walked into the bedroom and sitting on the bed, picked up the phone.
“Hi Andrea, it’s Kate, how you feeling this morning? Listen, I have to be quick. I’ve got the blood tests back. Do you want to come down to see me at the surgery, I have a spare hour free at 12?”
Andrea had almost forgotten about her blood tests and the sound of her friend’s voice pulled her out of her dreaming and into the present.
“Is there something wrong Kate?”
There was a small pause on the phone, a hesitation in her voice before she spoke again.
“There’s nothing wrong, not exactly Andrea, nothing to worry about anyway, but I think it would be good if you could come into the surgery for a chat”.
Standing up, Andrea crossed to the window and looked out into the morning sun, the world outside looked bright.
“Whatever it is Kate, just tell me over the phone; I’m a big girl”.
“You’re pregnant”.
Andrea sat back on the bed to let the words sink in, but they could not. Kate must be wrong; there was no way that she could be pregnant.
She began to laugh “Kate, I see, you’re having me on, a joke and not a very good one at that. It’s too early for such things. God woman, you almost gave me a heart attack”
There was another pause.
“Andrea, listen, I’m not joking. The tests have come back positive. You’re having a baby”.
Her mind raced to the last time she and Steve had sex, it must be well over a month ago. She had been away for nearly 2 weeks, the timings were all wrong, it was impossible.
“Look Andrea, there must be some mistake. Steve and I haven’t been together for over a month, I’ve had a period since then. It’s impossible”.
Now it was Kate’s turn to laugh down the phone.
“Andrea, just listen to yourself. I have the results here and I can definitely say that you are pregnant. Lots of my patients find it hard to take in at first, make all kinds of excuses. Now let’s make an appointment to get you booked in to see me for a full check up and, better than that, let’s make a date to go out and catch up properly. No alcohol for you though eh?”
It was no use arguing with Kate over the phone, she was sure it was a mistake but agreed with her friend to make the appointment and to meet for lunch later in the week. She ended the call as quickly as she could, needing some time to think.
Walking into the living room she picked up her bag and retrieved her filofax. She was meticulous at recording dates and always tracked her monthly cycle. Her last period had been three weeks ago, the last time she had sex with Steve was 5 weeks ago, it just didn’t add up.
Opening up her dressing gown she stroked the smooth skin of her belly. It was impossible. They must have made a mistake with the test results. Still, a nagging fear played on her mind, she had fainted a couple of times, had been feeling emotional lately, the strange dreams about Helen and Alex MacDonald - something was definitely amiss.
For the rest of the day Andrea moped around. She still felt tired from her sleepless night and although she tried to sleep her mind was restless and she could not relax.
Just after noon Steve rang. Helen had invited them both out for dinner that evening at her place. At first Andrea was tempted to decline the offer. She did not like Helen nor did she trust her, but then again, if she were the enemy, perhaps it was better to understand a little more about her? She didn’t mention the pregnancy to Steve, why should she; it couldn’t possibly be true; could it?
4.
Helen looked out of her window and down the long drive to the line of trees that blocked the view beyond her gate. She liked to feel secluded; keep away prying eyes. They would be here soon. It was an important night and everything was in place. Andrea had been a much tougher nut to crack than she had first thought but she was not going to be thwarted by such a pathetic and ordinary woman. It had happened once but she was determined it would never happen again. There was too much riding on it. She had waited a lifetime, several lifetimes, for this moment and it was within her grasp. She would have the 2 runes, the one in the exhibition and the one in Andrea’s keeping, and would go back to Iona to save her brother, both to return to the future with the power of the runes and together they would rebuild their empire in a new world. Generations of women before her had led to this moment - it was her destiny and she could not fail now in her mission. The MacDonald clan would rise again to power and she would rule along with her brother; all that stood in the way was two small stones and a woman who was not worthy of her brother’s love.
At least she knew the whe
reabouts of one rune; the one that had propelled her into the present time. She had spent years collecting ancient artwork and artefacts in the hope that she would discover the second; the two runes that would bring herself and her brother safely to the future, her brother who lay dying back in Iona, 500 years in the past. Only she could save him now.
The lights of a car beamed across the driveway as the taxi crawled up the drive and came to a halt in front of the entrance, the wheels scattering the grey gravel over the immaculate lawn.
Andrea took a deep breath as she looked up at the great mansion house, seeing the dark outline of a figure in one of the lighted downstairs windows. In her head she wanted to turn back, run away. There was something wrong, something evil about the place. It sounded stupid but her hackles were raised and she sat in silence in the back of the cab, staring out into the night.
"Andrea!" Steve was opening the door and grabbing at her hand to pull her out.
Smoothing down her skirt she stepped into the cold air. She had made an extra effort tonight; she would not let Helen beat her, whatever she was up to. The dress was new and expensive, very expensive. It fitted well, perhaps a little too well and hugged her slender figure. She wore killer heels, uncomfortable but adding an extra 2 inches to her height was part of her battle armor; essential she always found in one to one combat with another of her sex.
A butler answered the door, not one of the lumbering, old and white haired dodders from an Agatha Christie novel, but a beautiful young and toned man, straight from the pages of Dorian Gray, an Adonis in the flesh. He was almost too beautiful, too perfect with his finely chiseled features, and although he smiled in greeting, his manner was cold and aloof, just like his mistress.
BULL: MC ROMANCE (Forsaken Riders MC Romance Book 6) Page 170
