She sat down on the edge of the rocks for a moment, wondering where to look next. Then a splash drew her attention out onto the water. A boat was coming into shore, just a dingy really: she could see the shape of an outboard motor in the stern, behind the figure of it’s occupant, whose smooth, rhythmical rowing had made the sound. It had to be Jed, nobody else would be here, though he hadn’t mentioned a boat. She was about to rise to her feet and go to meet him, but, as the keel ground on the bottom, several feet from the beach, and he rose to his feet, she realised he was naked. He leaped out, shaking back wet hair, hauling the small craft onto the shore. He must have rowed out into the cove and gone for a swim, she supposed. She couldn’t let him know she’d seen him unclothed, so she shrank down, keeping very still.
Then she watched, mesmerised, as he left the boat, headed up the beach and turned sideways on to the sea. She realised he was hard, his male member thrusting high and proud almost to his navel, the head rounded and blunt, the shaft thick. His hand reached down to encircle himself and began to move rhythmically, slowly at first, then faster, his spine curved like a bow and head thrown back so that his wild curls brushed his shoulder blades. He was utterly beautiful, his jaw and throat a symphony of line, the muscles of thighs and buttocks clenching and rippling as he approached his climax. She was incredibly turned on, so much so that it was all she could do not to tear her clothes off and join him. As he started to spurt, he turned away from her. Then he was walking back into the water, wading out till the waves washed his knees, propelling himself forward and beginning to swim in powerful strokes, foam falling back in glittering bubbles in his wake.
Tamsin crept away, bent double, her loins on fire with what she’d just witnessed, then straightened into a run. She glanced over her shoulder once and saw he was heading back towards the beach. She had never been more excited in her life, and yet she was deeply moved. The experience of watching him had seemed almost transcendent.
She got back well before him, scrambling out of her clothes, being careful to knock any grains of sand from her boots before she entered the porch, so that he would never have the slightest suspicion she’d seen him masturbating. Twenty minutes or so later she heard him come in, then felt the bed dip as he climbed up beside her, then, a little later still, his regular breathing as he drifted into sleep. She lay there, oddly disturbed and yet thrilled to her core by what she had seen.
Chapter 7
The morning brought brilliant sunshine and a more sober mood. Last night had seemed almost magical, as if she’d dreamed the incident on the beach. There was something about this island and Jed, some enchantment that was turning her usually sensible mind fey and giddy. Or, maybe, she was side-tracking herself from the decisions she had to make back in her real life. Whatever the reason, she was becoming fascinated by Jed, drawn to him, turned on by him. Today she had to be firm with herself and spend some time in serious thought.
But she hadn’t factored in the effect that spending the day in his presence would have on her. He was keen to show her the rest of the island - she suspected he was glad of the company, whatever he might have said previously about liking being on his own - and she didn’t see how she could refuse without sounding churlish and ungrateful.
Consequently, mid morning saw them exploring the barrows in the south. Here a wide beach swept up from the shoreline to merge into miles of dunes, clothed in marram grass, which, in turn, led onto grassy uplands. The tumuli themselves, six oval mounds, were covered by wild flowers: clover, vetch, and tiny yellow blooms whose name she didn’t know but whose sweet scent rose up as her feet crushed them in passing. There were dozens of butterflies - Jed pointed out Common Blues, Fritillaries, and Orange Tips, among many others - and the steady hum of bees provided a counterpoint to the sound of the offshore wind and the distant voice of the waves. Despite the brisk breeze, the sun was becoming hot. Something in Tamsin, some knot of tension, anxiety or worry was beginning to unravel. The island really was paradise - a place out of time and away from the common stream of everyday life.
Now, he took her hand and leapt up the side of the nearest barrow, pulling her after him, then proceeded to walk its length.
‘Round about here,’ he said, pacing slowly to a point two thirds of the way along, ‘it always feels like going through some sort of invisible gateway. Can you feel it? It’s odd.’
And she really could understand what he meant. Everything appeared as it had been before, but it was as if they had entered another realm: one that looked the same but that felt mystical and boundless. She was still aware of the sough of the breeze and the melody of birdsong, but they were remote, as if coming from another space. She was also acutely aware of Jed’s hand, which was still wrapped around hers: its firmness and warmth and the fizz of electricity that seemed to be sparking from his fingers to hers and back again. Then, suddenly, his eyes were locking onto hers, drawing her in, rendering her unable to move or even breathe for long seconds. She was aware of the lustre of his skin, the pores where cheek flowed into upper lip, and the thick darkness of his lashes,
Then the spell was broken, he dropped her hand, walked a little distance away, and she was back in the world, sounds and sensations reasserting themselves, filling her with sun and sky, wind and wave. Jed was his usual casual, friendly self. She almost wondered if she’d imagined the connection between them seconds ago, but she knew she hadn’t. Something happened to them when they touched, something that appeared to bond them on a deep and inexplicable level. Or, maybe it was the magic of the island finding a channel through them: some supernatural force that wove its way into their blood at the places the old people had made. She looked at Jed’s retreating back, his wide shoulders and gleaming curls, and he seemed so familiar, way more so than he should have done after only a couple of days. A rush of longing swept over her, so that she had to restrain herself from going after him, touching him, sliding her palms up those muscular arms, running her hands along his jawline and caressing his cheek.
Jed turned towards her and his eyes sought hers again, but she could see him shrug off the magnetism between them and force himself to be more superficial.
‘Lunch?’ he asked, voice deliberately light - or so she felt.
But when they were seated at the foot of the tumulus, backs against the stones that formed its sealed entrance, she relaxed, letting the sun caress her skin, filled with well being and contentment. She didn’t even react when Jed’s hand brushed hers as he handed her the food. And he in his turn opened up to her, chatting easily about the work he was doing here, smiling and waving his hands in emphasis, tucking into one large sandwich after another.
‘Any more headaches?’ he said at last, when they were licking their fingers and bundling up the leftovers.
‘No, absolutely none, I feel totally fine.’ She dusted her hands off and got to her feet. ‘In fact, I feel better than I’ve felt in years.’
He nodded. ‘The island does that to you. I always feel fighting fit within days of coming back here. I suppose it must be the lack of pollution, but I feel ridiculously energised.’
Then they were heading back to the Land Rover, chucking the remains of their lunch inside, driving off down the track that led to the Hermitage.
But later that afternoon, when Jed had left her listening to music on the laptop, telling her he had to do some quite dangerous cliff climbing so wouldn’t take her with him, Tamsin had space to think at last.
She took herself outside and settled against a small boulder, head tilted back, legs stretched out to absorb the sun’s rays. She could hear the gulls from here, harsh cries faint but piercing and, nearer, the comfortable clucking of the hens as they rooted for worms in the dust; and beyond all that, the ever-present song of the ocean. Tranquillity claimed her, her mind stilled and she felt a clarity that had been eluding her for days.
It hit her that she might not love Damien, that what was between them might simply be sexual attraction; obsession, even. Something
in her felt oddly outraged that he was so controlling. Being here, on the island, had given her a perspective she didn’t think she could have achieved otherwise - well, certainly not with Damien breathing down her neck all the time, taking over her life, not giving her space to work things out. She thought about how she had all but lost contact with family and friends because of him. It had happened subtly and gradually. She would decide to see someone and Damien would somehow have another arrangement for them, or would be unwell and need her, or he would make a remark about the other person that seemed, on the surface, perfectly reasonable, but that would undermine her opinion of them. If she did manage to make an arrangement, he would insist on being part of it and then would be just slightly hostile, so that the event was uncomfortable. Bit by bit her friends saw less and less of her and then began to make excuses not to see her at all. Family was a different matter, but she would find herself torn between them and Damien, feeling it her duty to be loyal and defend him when her parents or her sisters told her they didn’t feel right about him.
And yet she knew he was painfully vulnerable, knew a dysfunctional childhood had wounded him, leaving scars that went deep, even though he denied them. Shouldn’t she see it through, weather the difficulties and help him to grow past the pain? Wouldn’t her love and patience pay off in the end, healing him, making him the whole, caring person she wanted to believe he could be? If she refused to marry him and go to the States, wouldn’t she be denying him all that? Wasn’t she selfish to even think of abandoning him?
She smiled ruefully to herself. So much for clarity: she seemed to be going round in circles. But at least she was addressing the problem at last.
Then, when she and Jed were finishing an evening meal of pasta and pesto, Jed gave her a piercing look and asked her what was up. ‘Other than cabin fever from being stuck here with me,’ he joked. And she found herself spilling the whole dilemma to him. It didn’t feel wrong, even though, or maybe because, she barely knew him.
When she’d talked herself out, he got up to put the kettle on, coming back with steaming cups of coffee.
‘Right,’ he said, handing one to her and settling himself on the edge of the bed. ‘Do you want feedback, or shall I shut up?’
‘Feedback, please.’
‘Ok. So here’s how I see it. When Fi and I split, I was pretty gutted, in fact it’s left me wary of getting involved again, but I know that’s not right and I hope I’ll get over it in time. But at no time did I blackmail, coerce or threaten her. I might not have liked that she wanted her freedom, but I didn’t see the point of holding on to someone who would rather not be with me. What would be the point? I couldn’t make her go on wanting me, after all. If you love someone, let them go may be a trite cliché, but it does have some basis in truth. Which begs the question: do you and Damien really love each other or are you mutually obsessed and fulfilling some function for each other that it suits you both to maintain? Love isn’t about threats or possession. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced it’s about shared interests but giving the other person the support they need to grow - and that means also not crowding them.’
Tamsin had been staring at her hands throughout his speech, but she looked up to find he was staring at her, eyes intense yet enigmatic. She opened her mouth to speak, but Jed held up a hand. ‘Sorry, I know I’m bulldozing you a little here, and I will listen, I promise. But I just want to say that if someone I loved was being manipulated the way Damien is trying to manipulate you, I’d be very worried.’
‘Oh…’ She felt relieved and deflated all at the same time. ‘So what do I do now?’
Jed sighed, then smiled kindly at her. ‘It looks as if the decision might have been taken out of your hands. After all, you’re stuck here and have no way of contacting him, so he may have assumed you’ve run out on him.’
‘Yeah, you’re right.’ She smiled at him, a weight lifting from her. How simple it all was after all. At that moment she could feel only relief at the possibility that there was no longer a decision to make, and that Damien might be out of her life. ‘Gosh, this feels odd,’ she said. ‘I mean telling you all this about my personal life when I hardly know you.’
‘That’s why it’s easier. I don’t have any stake in your decision, so it’s easy for me to be objective. Anyway, being here on the island together is a bit of a hothouse situation. We’re forced into each other’s company, really, so we’re going to get to know each other fast.’
‘I suppose…yes, I hadn’t thought of that.’
And it was true - hadn’t she been thinking herself, only this afternoon, how familiar he seemed, out of all proportion to the short time she’d known him?
‘Well, I’m going to turn in,’ Jed announced, standing up and collecting their mugs. ‘By the way, I’ve dug out a shirt for you to wear in bed. It’s longer than that top you’ve been wearing, so you can change in the bathroom and not worry about hiding from me.’
Tamsin didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that he obviously had no interest in her body.
Chapter 8
It was the middle of the night again and she was awake and alone. This time she didn’t get up and follow Jed but lay there, drowsy and comfortable, till she drifted into sleep again. She was vaguely aware of him coming back to bed some time later, but was too tired to take much notice, sinking into slumber almost immediately.
Jed made no mention of his nocturnal activities when they woke later. He leapt out of bed clothed in boxers and T-shirt, cheerful and filled with good will, fetching her coffee, then getting busy with a breakfast of fried eggs and fried bread, which he brought in on plates awash with tinned tomatoes.
Tamsin still felt a little odd about sharing a bed with a stranger, but on another level it was becoming the norm. And it wasn’t as if he’d made any sort of move on her. He’d been a perfect gentleman, keeping to the other side of the wide couch, sleeping turned away from her, wrapped in his own blanket so that there was no disturbance, no intimacy. She supposed it was not much different to sharing a dorm in a youth hostel - which she’d done a lot of when she was travelling in her gap year. And on her own part, even though she was increasingly attracted to him, something about the air on the island, or the lack of stress, or maybe even the remains of reaction to the dramatic circumstances that had brought her here, meant that she slept deeply and soundly, not even aware of her dreams.
This morning she offered to feed the animals and found herself out in the mild air, scattering leftover crusts and handfuls of grain to the chickens and dispensing some sort of meal to the goats: Jed had given her a scoopful, extracted from a sack in the porch. Then he showed her how to milk the goats, tying them up in turn, tugging at their teats till a steady stream of milk pattered into the plastic bucket kept for the purpose.
‘You try,’ he said, getting her to kneel, guiding her hand to the teat, showing her the movement and pressure that would get the milk flowing. She was acutely aware of his hand on hers, his body pressing against hers, side on side, as she fumbled, tugged and, at last, managed to extract a few drop from the goat’s udder. The animal tried to kick, but Jed spoke sharply and firmly and it settled again. Then, to her delight, she found her rhythm and the milk began to spurt in a regular stream.
After that, they collected eggs together, searching around the grass and under the little lean-to round the back of the Hermitage, where the chickens could roost at night if they wished, sheltered from the elements.
When they’d finished those small tasks and had gone back inside for coffee, Jed told her: ‘I have to do more cliff climbing this morning. You can have a swim if you want. The water in the cove is perfectly safe, even when the tide’s going out; it’s not very deep, you wouldn’t be out of your depth at any point, and the water’s already warm because it’s so shallow. Then, this afternoon, we’ll take a look at the Viking settlement.’
So mid morning found her naked, slipping through water that was warm as
a bath and smooth as silk, its colour fawnish-gold, blending into turquoise further out. She had had to wade some considerable distance from the shore for it to be deep enough to swim, even though the tide almost was in. It was now clear why Jed had used a boat to go to the middle of the cove. A strip of wet, gleaming sand bordering the beach was criss-crossed with the runic footmarks of wading birds, whose long legs and curved beaks marked them out from the gulls. And, as she’d splashed through the shallows, little fish had swarmed away from her and tiny yellow crabs had scuttled to safety. The last few inches of rock still to be submerged by the incoming waves were festooned with bladderwrack and encrusted with whelks and limpets, whose serrated shells glistened wetly.
Beyond the entrance to the cove, she could see the arms of an encircling bay that sheltered this peaceful spot. She guessed her boat must have been driven into the bay and onto the outer wall of the cove itself. A few feet either way, and she would have been either driven further out to sea or smashed on the rocks of the bay. That she should have survived at all seemed a chance in a million and more than a little fated.
She swam for a while, slow, easy strokes, feeling the swell and suck of the waves, which were so slight they seemed like nothing more than ripples. Then she turned over to float on her back, breasts rising out of the water, hair clouding round her shoulders, the sun dazzling her, the sky an inverted bowl of bluest glass. At one point, she thought she saw a flash from the top of the cliffs, like sun on a lens, but it was gone instantly and she guessed she must have imagined it. She gave herself up to sun and sea, feeling a current of bliss move through her being. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy and relaxed.
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