by Ashe Barker
“You didn’t take that much persuading, sugar. You were keen enough to fuck me on this table.”
I lost it. As God is my witness I don’t know where that bolt of mindless fury came from. One moment I’m glaring at him, hearing his hateful words making a mockery of all my hopes, the dreams I’d begun to build, and the next my hand is whipping through the air to connect with his cheek. The sharp crack reverberates through the kitchen as all five of them stare at me in stunned silence.
Nathan’s chin lifts, and for one terrifying moment I’m sure he’s going to hit me back. He’s three times my size. He’ll kill me. I step back, out of his reach, and my movement breaks the spell of silence. All the voices seem to burst out at once, shouting at me, at Nathan, at each other. But the one voice I hear above all the rest as I run for the door is my mother’s.
“Holy shit, my girl packs a punch.”
Chapter Twenty Four
I burst out of the door and run full pelt across the gravelly courtyard at the rear of Black Combe. I reach the grassy banking at the other side of the yard, heading for the gate at the end of our property. This leads directly out onto the moors and my only thought now is to carry on my mad dash up the hillside. I just want to get out into the open air, clear my head, gather my wits, calm down, reassess my options.
I’ve almost made it to the gate when I hear the pounding of feet on the gravel behind me and pick up my pace, as frantic now to escape Black Combe and Nathan as I had been when I fled from the cloying constraints of Oxford. I don’t want to talk to anyone yet.
No such luck. I’m tackled from behind and flung to the ground. I fall on top of Nathan somehow as he takes the weight of our fall. I struggle, try to land another punch but he has my wrists in one of his hands and I find myself on my back, looking up into his stern face.
“Let me go. Please let me go.” I realize I sound pathetic, but I’ve had it. I just need to be on my own. Regroup and lick my wounds. And work out what the hell to say to my mother.
“Never, Angel.” And he kisses me. I struggle again, in earnest, but his tongue slides between my lips, sensuous, tasting me, and I soon give up the fight. He’s stronger, and I never could resist the determined pull of his body. My mouth opens, I let him in, and my tongue joins in the familiar dance. I’m confused, hurting, but he can still make me so hot. He rolls over onto his back again, and I follow him, taking the initiative once I find myself on top. I’m kissing him back, both of us frantic now to find that place again, that place where we connect. We roll over and I’m underneath again, tunneling my fingers through his hair as we writhe together in the springy grass.
Eventually he lifts his head. “I’m sorry, Eva. I’m sorry for what happened back there in Leeds, and I’m sorry for what I just said. You got it right. I am a bastard. A stupid bastard at that. Forgive me. Please.”
A wave of shame ripples through me. “I hit you. I can’t believe I hit you. I’ve never, ever done anything like that in my life before.”
“Lucky for me you did. If you hadn’t done it, Tom would have. And I reckon he’d have properly decked me. Like I deserve.”
“Oh God, in front of everyone. Your family. My family.”
“They’ll get over it. And Amy whisked Rosie out before any blows got landed. That girl’s worth her weight in gold. Do you think she’ll stay on if I offer her a permanent job?”
“What job?”
“I dunno. Maybe a nanny or assistant housekeeper?”
“Maybe. Let me up.”
“Not if you’re going to run off again. I want to talk.”
“Well, talk to yourself then. Oaf.” I wriggle under him, trying to get free. Not a chance.
“Okay, I’ll settle for this then.” And he kisses me again.
Several mindless minutes later we’re still tangled together in the grass, and I’ve given up all thoughts of conversation, content to simply kiss him back. Eventually he lifts his head, grinning down at me, his dark chocolate eyes glinting with desire
“I want you, and I’m going to have you. But not here. Not with an audience watching us. Where were you headed?”
“What? Who’s watching?” I strain my neck trying to peer around his shoulder.
“Everyone. They were forming an orderly queue at the kitchen window as I came after you. So, where to, Eva?”
“And no one came to rescue me? I might have been, well… I might have needed help.” I stop, not sure what I want to say. Nathan may be a lot of things but violent is definitely not one of them. Which is more than can be said for me, it would seem.
He caresses my cheek with his palm, his gorgeous eyes soft as he smiles at me. “I’m pretty sure no one could mistake this for a fight. If it makes you feel better, though, I reckon your mother was tempted to sink her stiletto into my eye, and she told me in no uncertain terms that she’d kill me if I laid a finger on you. That’s how you managed to get this far before I caught up with you. I had to convince her, and Tom, that I wasn’t going to hurt you. I promised her I’d bring you back safe. Best to make sure, though, or I’ll never dare face her again. Give her a wave to let her know you’re all right.”
I shudder, more than a little familiar with my mother’s Hiroshima moments. I glance over at the kitchen window and, sure enough, I can make out the four figures watching us with undisguised interest. I wave self-consciously. I can see my mother waving back, but no one’s moving from the window. Unless we want to perform for an audience, we need to shift. Nathan has the same idea.
“So, Eva, where to?”
“I was going up onto the moors. To think.”
“Thinking’s good. I could do with a good think myself. Come on.”
With an agile, fluid motion he is on his feet, holding out a hand to me. I take it and he pulls me to my feet. With a casual wave of his own in the direction of the kitchen window he drops an arm across my shoulders and turns me in the direction of the moors.
* * * *
Making love outdoors is wonderful. Exhilarating. I highly recommend it.
Satisfied, contented, we lie on our backs, cushioned by Nathan’s T-shirt and my red blouse—which I suspect will not entirely survive this experience—the soft bracken itchy under our naked legs. We really should get dressed—what if some hiker happens along? We’re right in the middle of the Brontë Way up here, the moorland equivalent of a six lane dual carriageway at this time of year. The route’s so popular with tourists that the signs are in Japanese—and I make a mental note to learn that language next. So far, though, we’ve only outraged the decency of a few hardy sheep, and they’ll cope.
I roll over to lean my chin on Nathan’s chest, gazing up into his eyes. He tries to avoid me, pretending to be asleep. I’m not having it. I poke him in the ribs. “We need to talk.”
“Not now, Eva. I’m thinking.”
“Yes now. Thinking time’s over.”
“What about a bit more fucking time then.” His voice is hopeful, his grin cheeky. It earns him another poke in the ribs. “Ouch. Thought not.” Sitting up he pulls on his jeans before lying down on his side, facing me. “Okay, we’ll talk. What do you need me to tell you?”
There’s only one question that matters to me. “Why wouldn’t you trust me? You said I had to trust you, and I did. Why didn’t you trust me?”
“Honestly, love? Back then I hardly even knew you. You were a stranger in my home. And you were lying to me, you were evasive. I was afraid, for Rosie. As you know, I’m always ultra-cautious where she’s concerned. If it was just me, I’d have shrugged, let matters take their course, let myself wait and see. But I take no chances with Rosie. It’s that simple—if you didn’t check out, fully check out, you had to go.”
“But you… You had sex with me.”
“Oh yes. I certainly did that, first chance I got. The first time I set eyes on you I wanted to get you flat on your back, naked. Tied to my bed preferably. I wanted that so much my balls hurt. And as you now know, I had it in mind to do a whole
lot more than just fuck you.”
I gulp, remembering the shock, the terrifying exhilaration of learning what he actually had in mind for me.
“Ah, yes,” I murmur, dropping my gaze. Was it really just that simple? Just about the sex. Good sex. Wicked, kinky, mind-blowing sex. But still…?
His intuitive antennae are set to high again this morning and he tips my chin back up, forcing me to maintain eye contact.
“It wasn’t that straightforward, though, was it? I tried to make a sub out of you because to me that’s the way these relationships work. Or at least, it’s how they work best. Or so I thought. But you were rubbish as a sub. You tried, but you kept screwing up. You’d let me beat you senseless without a murmur, and then cry at the drop of a hat. You were an emotional wreck, and so high maintenance it was a bloody joke. But there was something about you. I found myself talking to you, trying to understand, wanting to help you. Wanting to keep you.” Sitting up he pulls me onto his knee, rubbing the top of my head with his chin as he contemplates what to say next.
“I should have just dumped you. I tried. Twice. But I couldn’t do it. I kept giving you another chance, making allowances, working around your little preferences and problems. You said you were scared of gags, so I took that out of our arrangement, never gagged you. You hated being suspended from the ceiling, so I never did it again. And I love both those things. But you don’t, and that mattered more to me. And then I brought you home. Back here. And I never do my casual fucking here. But then, there’s nothing casual about fucking you, Eva.” His voice trails away again and I think he’s finished, but then his arms tighten around me and he is murmuring into my hair.
“I think I loved you from that first night, when you played Bolero and all I wanted to do was kiss you senseless. But I’m not always that sharp on the uptake and it took me a while to get my head around how I feel about you. The penny finally dropped when I was in Turkey. It was when you texted me to let me know Grace was injured. I phoned you back in a blind panic about Rosie, about how to make sure she was cared for until I could get home. And you just stepped up, slipped into place here. And it was suddenly all fine. I already knew I absolutely worshiped your body, but at that moment I saw, with total clarity, the wonderful, kind, generous woman within that beautiful body. And I was a goner. I love you. Simple, really.” He tips my face up to kiss me again.
I gaze at him in wonder, lips parted to accept his kiss. Yes, perhaps it really is that simple.
I still have some questions, though. “Why did you say that stuff, back at the house?”
“Like I say, I can be slow on the uptake. And I can be a mean bastard when I’m cornered. Having your mum and old professor just arrive out of the blue threw me a bit. I was on the back foot.”
Shit! And he looked so bloody calm I thought he was comatose.
“And because I knew you were right. I should have had faith in you. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I need you to forgive me, if you will.”
I draw a deep, refreshing breath, taking the time to slowly, consciously explore this new sensation. This loving and being loved.
“I will. I do. I forgive you. And I love you too, even if you are a mean bastard. But don’t do it again. You really hurt me.” Then, “What did Ben tell you about me?”
“He said you were a brilliant and essential member of his research team, a gifted linguist and computer scientist, and that he wanted you to come back to work. That he’d welcome you back anytime. He told me you’d been ill when you left and he was worried about you. He wanted to know how you were, that you were all right. I reassured him, told him I was looking after you now. That you were safe.”
I stare at him, wordless. ‘Looking after me.’ ‘Safe.’ And I realize it’s true—that is what happened. Even after he knew what a wreck I really was, he still took care of me.
“And that was enough to convince you? You knew about my…illness. And you still thought I could be trusted around Rosie?”
“Why would I not? I think I always knew that. I was just being hard on you. And unfair. I was cruel because I felt things were getting away from me. I’m not proud of that. I was in unfamiliar territory and looking for a way out. Ben told me about you running out on his program. He’d known you were ill. He thought a bit of time off would do you good. He was expecting you to come back after a week or two, a month at the most, ready to take up where you’d left off. But you suddenly upped and disappeared. Your mother didn’t know where you’d gone. They were both getting desperate by the time I contacted him.”
“How the hell did they find me? I told my mother I was in Yorkshire, near Haworth, but I didn’t expect her just turning up here.”
“From what your mum said before you came downstairs, she and Ben have been in regular contact. He’s been phoning her a couple of times a week for news of you, and when I got in touch with him and said you were working for me as a music tutor he passed that information onto her. They apparently decided to give you two more weeks to come to your senses then they were coming to get you. And here they are. They came to Haworth by train, and then had a stroke of luck, it seems. They wandered out of the station intending to start asking around and saw Miranda.”
Miranda, my car. My lovely little injured car.
“Miranda! Where? Where is she? Can I get her back?”
“She was outside Jack’s garage opposite the station. Obviously, your mother recognized her straight away, knew she was onto a clue, and marched over there demanding to know where you were. Jack spilled the beans without putting up much of a fight, I gather, and even gave their taxi driver directions to get up here. And the rest, we know. Oh, and Jack’s bringing your bloody car up later.”
“Is she fixed?” My joyful expression is not lost on him and he smiles back.
“Yes, fixed. I had the damned thing fully reconditioned, new engine, new braking system, the works. Jack’s been doing the best he could but some of the parts have had to be ordered in specially, so it’s taken a while. But at least the rust-bucket’s roadworthy now.”
I can’t believe this. Miranda’s had a makeover, a full refit. She’s properly roadworthy! I throw my arms around him, kissing his neck, his chest, his jaw. “But why? I never expected… Oh, you wonderful, lovely, amazing man! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Hey, I’d have told you sooner if I’d known you’d be so demonstrative. I didn’t like the thought of you driving around in that death-trap. If I couldn’t get you to dump the monster—and you clearly wouldn’t be doing that—this seemed to be the next best option. I’m glad you’re pleased.”
“Pleased! I don’t know how to thank you. Really!”
“Oh, I think you’ve got a good idea how I’d like to be thanked…” His wry, sexy smile hovers over me as he shoves me back onto the springy grass.
“Is it time for more makeup sex?”
His grin is sexy and wicked, and I know this is going to be very, very good. “Oh yes, I think it is.”
Chapter Twenty Five
“I don’t want to go back. I didn’t back then, and now I definitely don’t. I want to stay here.”
We’re strolling back down the hillside, hands loosely linked, discussing our immediate and longer-term future.
“Why not? Ben seems nice enough, and your work’s fascinating. Isn’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose so. But I want to stay here.”
“It’s not so simple. I understand you’re under contract. You can’t just walk out halfway through the job.”
I stiffen, my heart sinking. I honestly never even considered this possibility. I look up at Nathan nervously, hoping he’ll have the answers. “Contract? I guess so. Shit! But there must be some way out, some loophole?”
“Possibly. I’ll ask my legal team to have a look, if you like. But don’t rely on that as your exit route. My guess is that Oxford University have trodden this path enough times—they’ll have come across this situation before and their paperwork will be pretty tight.”
“Tell me why you think you can’t go back.”
“Because, because—it’ll happen again. I know it will. It was being there, being locked in there that triggered whatever it was, whatever went wrong…” I can hear the old panic in my voice, I know I’m babbling, not making sense. I’m running on pure emotion now. The only thing that’s absolutely crystal clear is my terror at the prospect of being forced to return to Oxford and face that situation again.
Nathan’s voice is calm, authoritative. “It won’t. You don’t have to go back, we’ll work something out. But, Eva, if you did ever decide to return, there’s no reason to think you’ll have another episode like that. Why would you?”
“I would. I know I would.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Because you’re a fast learner. You’d spot the signs and get help. Or Ben would. Or your mother would. Or I would. You didn’t talk to anyone before, had no chance to understand what was happening. It’ll never be like that again.”
“But I don’t know what caused it. If I don’t know why it happened, I can’t stop it happening again.”
“Stress caused it, like it always does. Too much adrenaline surging around and nowhere to use it up. When neither fight nor flight’s an option, maybe you just turned it on yourself. I’m no psychiatrist, but I do know this is an illness like any other so it can get better. It can be cured. You’re well again now, and we’ll help you stay that way. And if you’re determined not to work in Oxford again you’ll need to do some sort of a deal with Ben.”
“What deal? I’m not going back to Oxford.” I can feel my heart rate spiking at that very prospect of being forced back into my old life.
“I don’t think he expects you to. He just wants you to finish the project you started.”
