The Doctor's Forbidden Fling

by Karin Baine

  ‘I didn’t think I’d see you today. I thought you’d be busy with work.’ She was sure he’d be able to feel her pulse throbbing violently beneath his lips.

  ‘I’ve no patients scheduled for the next few hours. I thought we could take the time to discuss our new arrangement.’ He dropped a feather-light kiss on her lips.

  ‘What’s that?’ Violet was burning so hot for him all these wooden fixtures and fittings were becoming a serious fire hazard, but she wasn’t going to be the one to make the rules. After the way things had ended the last time between them she wanted this to be his call.

  ‘We had such a good time last night, I don’t see any reason to keep us from doing it again. I’d go as far to say we should do it every night before you leave.’

  Before you leave. They were the crucial words she wanted to hear. That way there was no room for misunderstandings when her time here was done.

  ‘Every night, huh?’

  ‘Maybe every day too if we feel the need.’ He would definitely have the need for her in his arms, night and day, now he’d established a clear time frame. His commitment would end the minute she was on a flight back to London and that was an even bigger aphrodisiac than seeing Violet get her hands dirty.

  He’d spent the morning flitting between arousal and annoyance every time he’d thought about last night and this morning. So much so he’d been in danger of becoming distracted. For the sake of his patients, and his sanity, he’d needed to come and see her here. He hadn’t known what action he should take regarding their tryst, whether it was better to draw a line under it or repeat it. One look at Violet had made it a no-brainer. Literally. That wasn’t the part of his body doing his thinking any more.

  ‘It might make my time here more bearable, I suppose...’ She was teasing him now. He could see through that flimsy shirt she was as turned on as he was.

  ‘I think I’ll make that my new tagline on my business cards. Dr Nathaniel Taylor—making life more bearable for over thirty years.’ He hadn’t come here with sex on his mind, only a desire to see her, but the time limit they’d just set meant he didn’t want to waste any more time talking.

  He planted his lips on Violet’s with an urgency he’d never felt with anyone but her. It was an all-consuming need to be part of her, have her be part of him, which he could indulge now he knew there’d be no consequences or regret.

  They were a flurry of hands and clothes as they tore at each other’s clothes. The waistcoat had been a spur-of-the-moment decision this morning, one he was now cursing for its many, many buttons.

  ‘Sod it.’ He tore it open, the damnable buttons pinging around the room in the process.

  ‘Shouldn’t it be my clothes you’re tearing off?’ Violet helped him undo those of his shirt in double-quick time so he was topless, and halfway to where he wanted to be.

  ‘Don’t worry, you’re next.’ He whipped off her shirt in one swift move to find she’d gone commando, her perky breasts greeting him without restraint.

  Violet writhed beneath him as he buried his head in her cleavage, revelling in her softness. She was opening his belt, unzipping his fly and letting his trousers pool around his feet. When she gripped his erection in her surprisingly strong hand he had to grab hold of the bench behind him before the instant rush of blood from his head caused him to black out. When she knelt and took him in her mouth there were fireworks in the darkness behind his eyelids.

  With her hands gripping his hips, his hands pulling her hair, she took him to the edge of oblivion and back time and time again.

  ‘Come here.’ He urged her up beside him to make this afternoon delight last longer than he was currently anticipating. She kicked off her own jeans and underwear and pressed her naked form against his fevered flesh.

  ‘You know, we’re not the first people to make out in here. Rumour has it this was the favourite spot for one of the most notorious butlers who worked here. He had a reputation for seducing the kitchen maids and he carved his initials wherever he made his conquests. They’re all over the house. See?’ She traced her finger over a set of initials scratched into the leather-covered bench.

  He could see where this was going. ‘You got a penknife on you?’

  ‘There’s an old kitchen knife on the window sill.’

  He hurriedly carved a crude NT into the wooden cabinets on the wall. ‘Now we’re making history too.’

  ‘There? Really?’

  He pulled her over beside him. ‘Well, the randy butler’s already claimed the bench and we’ve done the furniture thing already...’

  As much fun as it was marking his territory, he wanted to finish what they’d started. He braced himself against the cupboard doors, caging Violet against the cupboards. His beautiful sex monkey hooked herself around him, permitting their bodies to forge together with ease.

  They were so in tune with each other she met his every thrust, kept pace with him until they reached that glorious peak together. Their combined cries of ecstasy were loud enough to wake the dead and Nate was glad they were far enough from the main house to be heard. He didn’t often get carried away in such a fashion where anyone, including his mother, could catch him in flagrante. His reputation was his livelihood but when he was with Violet nothing else seemed to matter. A dangerous game to play in real life but thankfully this was nothing more than a holiday fling, giving them the excuse to take a walk on the wild side for a week or two.

  Once they got their breath back and their clothes back on, Violet returned to the scene of the crime to inspect the graffiti.

  ‘He must’ve had a lot of fun during his time here. I’ve seen these initials in the wine cellar, the laundry room and the stone archway at the back of the house.’ She studied the carving, lost in thought, as though she somehow envied the freedom of a paid servant.

  Nate didn’t want her to relate this moment between them to feelings of regret when that was the very thing they were trying to avoid.

  ‘I reckon we could give the horny butler a run for his money. Let’s set ourselves a challenge to reclaim every nook and cranny where he’s made his mark with one of our own. It shouldn’t be Strachmore subordinates only who get to have all the fun. I think it’s time the lady of the house got to play too.’

  This became more like an illicit romance between servant and mistress with every clandestine meeting in the big house. He could live with that as long as they kept treating this as an exciting fling with a definite deadline. There was no better way to do that than to make love in every room of the house, erasing every bad memory associated with the place in the process. It was therapy on an enjoyable level for both parties, ensuring they chased the pain away with lots of pleasure. A way of closing out the past and opening up their hearts for the future. One that couldn’t include each other.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  VIOLET DIDN’T KNOW much about BH but he’d certainly been a busy boy and NT had been doing his best to rival him. Of course, they’d been discreet in recording their exploits for posterity, careful not to vandalise valuable historical artefacts, and they’d had fun along the way. In all, these last two weeks exploring, and supposedly renovating, the forgotten rooms at Strachmore had been some of the best days of her life.

  Her father was growing stronger every day, thanks to his work with the physiotherapists and Mrs Taylor’s close attention to his diet. Violet had made it clear she’d be returning to her job at the end of the month and that had been sufficient to prompt him into sitting down with her and Nate to discuss the ideas they had to make the estate self-sufficient. He’d eventually agreed in principle to their suggestions and put his signature to the required paperwork for now.

  Nate’s cool, calm explanation of the proposed changes and the expected benefits had been a crucial part of negotiations. Having him as a third party helped prevent a lot of the emotional obstac
les from getting in the way. In the end her father had even offered to sell a few of the paintings he had in storage so she could hire an events manager and whoever else it took to make this thing work in her absence. She might even come home every now and then, now there were a few more attractions, and a few places still left for NT to conquer.

  There hadn’t been a conversation between her and Nate about the possibility of her coming back, or reconnecting if she did. It didn’t seem such a stretch to carry on with what they had going on. She wouldn’t be a permanent fixture in his life, expecting any more than she did now—great sex. It would be a shame to end things completely when they were having such a good time together. Spending more time with Nate would give her something to look forward to other than TV and pizza at the end of the working week.

  She watched him now, schmoozing with the wedding party and the photographer in the grounds, and listened in fascination as he recounted her family’s history to the bride and groom. Despite his resistance, he was as much a part of Strachmore as she was. More than ever given their recent antics. She couldn’t imagine coming home and not seeing him here.

  He waved her over, not ready to leave his post as today’s host just yet. The bride and groom were his colleagues from the hospital here to use Strachmore as the backdrop for their wedding photographs. It was a favour both to his friends, and Violet. They got free use of the grounds and it was the first step to gently break her father into the idea of sharing his family home with strangers.

  Violet watched the newly-weds smiling for the camera capturing their love for eternity. She wanted to be sick.

  ‘I’d be crying too if I’d been condemned to a life of misery.’ She sidled up to Nate, making sure she was out of earshot of the over-emotional couple now dabbing their eyes and hugging. She didn’t want to ruin their day but marriage had a lot to do with the misery that had surrounded her ancestral home for so long. Her father’s confession of his love for her mother had only served to confuse her views on matrimony further. It had all seemed so black and white when she’d thought her mother’s love for her father had never been reciprocated and had cost her her life. The fear of giving everything and receiving nothing in return had kept Violet from falling into that marriage trap.

  Now she knew how much her father had loved her and how lost he was without her, it made her question if refusing to admit your feelings was equally destructive. Apparently once love had you in its clutches it was game over, either way, and no amount of pretending or running could prevent it.

  ‘Not a fan of the bride, or the groom?’ Nate cocked his head at her as though she were some anomaly of nature for not getting sentimental over the proceedings.

  ‘Marriage in general. You saw what it did to my family. It’s all flowers and romance now but she’s probably given up all her hopes and dreams to play wifey.’ She clung on to that belief her mother had been the only casualty in the marriage—the only one with feelings to consider. The alternative was to admit both of her parents had been at fault and their marriage had been a partnership rather than a dictatorship, with each of them responsible for their own actions. That idea of free will, even as part of a couple, called into question every excuse Violet had ever made for being on her own.

  ‘It’s not the eighteen hundreds any more, you know. Women can get married, have children and still work if they choose.’ He was being surprisingly pro-commitment for someone who’d taken great care to make sure they didn’t have one.

  Violet’s stomach flip-flopped. Perhaps it was only her he didn’t want around long-term. She hadn’t contemplated having to see him with someone else any time she came home, someone he might want to settle down with.

  ‘You didn’t strike me as the marrying kind.’ At least not since they were teenage sweethearts when the intensity of his feelings for her, and hers for him, had sent her running.

  ‘I’m not. It seems to work for some people, though. My parents would be an example of that, I guess. For the record, I have no problem with the honeymoon part. It’s being tied down I take issue with.’ Nate confirmed his place alongside Violet on the dark side, enabling her to breathe a little easier.

  ‘I don’t know who’s in your little black book but I’m sure you could find someone who isn’t into bondage.’ Not that she was encouraging him to start hooking up with anyone else. She’d prefer he did that when she was long gone. If he really had to.

  Nate snorted. ‘That I can handle. It’s this notion that love can solve problems that galls me when, ultimately, it only creates more. All this nonsense is fine for sentimental types whose only aspirations in life are a semi-detached house and two-point-four children but you’re right, some of us have bigger dreams.’

  She should’ve been relieved to hear his matrimonial views were in sync with her own but hearing he was as cynical as she was chilled her insides. He was so changed in his views since a teen and she knew she’d been the cause. She must have hurt him more than he ever would admit. Her selfish actions might well have cost him the happy family she’d always thought he’d deserved. The Dempsey curse had struck again.

  For a split second she’d zoned out, light-headed and unsteady in her high heels. Her conscience had clearly taken news of his commitment phobia badly, manifesting her guilt physically. They moved with the wedding party through the gardens and she slipped off to take a seat on the carved stone bench under the eucalyptus tree. She stripped a couple of the long blue-green leaves and crushed them in her fingers. The smell of menthol and pine instantly filled the air. She took a deep breath, hoping it would help quell her rolling stomach.

  It was coming up to that time of the month too, which probably wasn’t helping this feeling of nausea. She did a quick mental calculation—she’d been here for three weeks, her last period had been before she’d taken time off work... She frowned. That couldn’t be right. She was as regular as clockwork, every four weeks. Her calculations made it more than five. She did another tot-up of the dates. It was still longer than she’d ever gone. It had to be down to the stress.

  Another cramp doubled her over, surely a clear sign all was as it should be. What was the alternative? She hadn’t eaten anything other than Mrs Taylor’s nutritious meals, same as her father, so it wasn’t food poisoning. That left one glaring possibility. She couldn’t be pregnant, she just couldn’t.

  Nate chose that moment to come and sit beside her. ‘Are you okay? You look a little pale.’

  He put his hand on her forehead, her skin suddenly clammy now. Her own health hadn’t been of any significance when her father had been so critical. Now it meant everything. With horror she recalled the fraught night waiting for news of her father and that whole debacle with Nate at the house. Her routine had gone completely out of the window and she’d been a day late taking her pill. In the circumstances she hadn’t thought in a million years she would have to take extra precautions. Sex with Nate had never seemed an option. Her recklessness had apparently come at a price after all.

  How would she ever make her escape from Strachmore now if she was pregnant? She didn’t have the support in London needed to look after a baby and work at the same time and she certainly wouldn’t be able to afford childcare on her wages. Nate hadn’t asked for this either, when she’d promised him this would be nothing more than a fling. She couldn’t expect him to take two of them on when he’d made it clear he didn’t even want a plus one. Hell, she didn’t even want one.

  Parenthood had never been in her future plans. It had been too much for her mother to cope with and not enough for her to stick around. Violet didn’t want that level of change, or responsibility, causing chaos in the new life she’d made for herself. Her quiet, organised life, where loving anyone except herself was simply out of the question. It was part of the reason she’d been keen to get back to it, knowing she’d be safe from her feelings for Nate there. Now she was in double trouble.

&n
bsp; All she could do was throw herself at her father’s mercy now, if the worst had indeed happened, and beg him to take in his pregnant, unmarried daughter. Her life was never going to be the same.

  ‘I think I’m gonna be sick.’

  * * *

  Nate had tried to go after Violet when she’d taken suddenly ill, but she’d shooed him back to the wedding party, insisting someone should be taking an active role in the day’s events. He’d had no option but to return to the gathered guests when Strachmore’s reputation would soon depend on good word of mouth. Someone had to escort them around the grounds and smile in all the right places. Even if he had been desperate to go check on her.

  He’d spent most of his waking moments outside work with her these past weeks, and all of his sleeping ones too. If there was something wrong he wanted to be with her, looking after her the way he always did. He guessed that sense of duty towards the Dempseys was simply born into him. That was the only acceptable explanation for why he cared so much.

  Once he’d seen the wedding party off to continue their celebrations elsewhere, he sprinted back to the house. He bounded up the stairs calling her name but she didn’t answer. Eventually he found her in her bedroom, changed out of the dress she’d bought specially for today back into her casual jeans and grey hoodie. She seemed even paler now she’d removed her make-up, looking lost perched on the end of her princess bed. He was sorry he’d left her alone for so long.

  When he saw her suitcase lying open on the bed, clothes strewn all around, he went into full panic mode. ‘What’s wrong? Is it that bad? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?’

  ‘I’m fine. Actually, I’m not. I’m far from it but I don’t need to go to the hospital. I need to go home.’

  She wasn’t making any sense and was starting to freak him out.

  He knelt on the floor and took her hand. If he’d known she’d react so strongly against the idea of marriage he’d never have suggested bringing his friends here. Her commitment issues were clearly greater than his. In a moment of sentimentality he’d even contemplated how Violet would have looked in a wedding dress. Beautiful and elegant as always, he supposed. If she hadn’t run away, breaking his heart, or he’d been enough for her to contemplate staying, they might have had this one day for themselves. It was a shame their parents’ actions had skewed their view on marriage for ever when people like his co-workers today seemed to find their happiness in it.