by Lisa Torquay
A couple of weeks after her arrival, Mark had had her things come from Cardiff and the precious memories from her past were carefully kept in her bedroom. But the mourning faded and she was able to move on. She still felt a tug of discomfort around talking about this period of her life, even to Mrs. Smith, who she considered her closest friend.
Chapter II
Mark was sitting on the sofa in the sitting room in impeccable tuxedo, waiting for Amy. She had invited him to her prom. Even though he knew the ‘oldies’ weren’t supposed to attend, he couldn’t resist the temptation. He dismissed Andrew’s notion of taking her, as protocol demanded.
He heard stilettos descending the steps and rose from the sofa. When she came into the room Mark swallowed dryly. She looked stunning in a long coral dress falling perfectly over her feminine curves, matching her honey eyes and cinnamon hair dazzlingly. The thin straps on her shoulder led the eyes foolishly to her full breasts under the well-tailored bodice and its simple cut evidenced her round hips and long legs. Her silky curls were held up, with many of them surrounding her heart-shaped face.
Mark tried to give his face a blasé air, but his sparkling eyes were hypnotised, his breath arrested in his rib-cage. “You look very beautiful, Amy.” His voice came cold, as if to cap a boiling pan.
Amy thought that he was no less handsome, the tuxedo making him seem even taller, its black fabric darkening his eyes and lending his dark, straight hair a special shade.
“Thanks. You too.” She said calmly, but there was a storm unfolding in her stomach, coming from heaven knew where.
The party reached its peak and Amy was radiant with her success among her peers. Andrew kept her on the dance-floor, proud of dating the most beautiful girl to be seen there. She had felt Mark’s feline eyes on her most of the time, making her feel funny.
At last Andrew conducted her out of the dance-floor, giving Mark the opportunity to ask her. He was blind to the fact that he was surrounded by teenagers, as he bitterly endured Andrew monopolising his ex-charge.
Amy held Mark’s arm as she was led back to the dance-floor. He reposed a light warm hand on her waist, keeping her at arm’s length. The physical contact with him, his musky scent wired a shiver through her and she kept her eyes low so as to focus on the music and not falter.
He wondered why the devil he’d asked her to dance. Even at arm’s length, she was too close for comfort. He could smell her suave flowery perfume, feel the silky touch of her dress and have a vision of the cleavage the dress allowed. It felt mesmerizing; he was engulfed in the foggy presence of her. His mind produced the most ruthless images. He saw himself lowering his head so that his parted lips could touch the creamy silk of the base of her neck. Maybe for the first time. His parted lips would track down to her bosom, inhaling her flowery scent. How would it feel if his fingers went down from her shoulder to hook delicately the top of her dress cupping her swelled femininity? What if his mouth followed? He sucked in the air harshly, censoring the train of his indecent thoughts. He kept her as far as he could, desperate to disguise the unlawfulness of his body state, pressing unbearable weight on his conscience.
Amy was proud to be doing well with the dance-steps, but the heat of his body was picking on her. A feeling of laxity cut through her. Her limbs were slow. Her lashes seemed heavy, her head nearly giving way, her lips dry and parted. A drunk couple bumped on them and she was thrown against his body. He held her instinctively. She registered that something was not normal. Her beautiful eyes darted up to him as her body responded frantically to his.
Bloody hell, swore Mark silently. But then she lifted her huge, surprised eyes to him and he definitely bordered insanity, as his piercing eyes merged in hers. The electricity in this exchange cooked high and he was at a loss at how to cool it down. In a legitimate way. Their eyes stared for long seconds in a universe of wordless communication, their bodies moving automatically in an unknown rhythm, still closely touching. For those brief seconds he was taken off to paradise. A paradise of unsurpassed delights.
Only to be cast back in hell by his moody conscience.
The music finally stopped and he took her swiftly to Andrew. He instructed the boy to take her home and disappeared taking his sense of indecency, rather than the opposite, with him.
Amy watched him walk away in total bewilderment, after he stammered a lame excuse. Confusion stalked her as all the gaiety forsook her for the rest of the night. By the time Andrew left her at home she was a mass of contradictory emotions.
Mark ordered another glass of whiskey. It had been several and if this would be the last, only heaven knew. His lean body bent over the counter, his head down; guilt and self-reproach eating him inside, not to be blurred, even after all these drinks. He had thought about calling Greta, it was still early when he left the party, but he didn’t feel minimally like meeting anyone right now.
He couldn’t tell what had been coming over him these last weeks. His guess was that the change of status, from former guardianship to...what? Damn! It didn’t matter what! But it was twisting his mind, this he knew for sure. And now? Was he supposed to tell her candidly what he should have a long time ago? The information that’d give her the power of taking her life into her own hands? And let him standing where exactly? Certainly not on very easy-going ground. He spat an ironic laugh to himself. There was nothing slightly resembling easy-going at that precise minute.
A hotel sheltered him for the night. He didn’t have a single drop of condition of going home and facing her.
Amy woke up for the thousandth time that night. Restless sleep. She sharpened her ears. All quiet. She was alone in the vast Georgian mansion. Alone and lonely. Alone, lonely and full of doubts. What she had been feeling lately was a mystery. Maybe it was just that the future was about to unfold full of possibilities, which could be causing her to overreact. Those brief moments in Mark’s arms the night before kept hammering in her memory, causing her to re-live all the sensations and emotions it inspired.
But it was utter madness even to winnow the thought of him as more than her saviour, the person who sheltered her, took care of her, even pampered her for the last two years. She was totally grateful to him for being there, against all odds. He didn’t have any obligation towards her, any family favours to repay, anything. He had done it out of pure kindness. True, he didn’t seem to be very affectionate. His reliability, though, was above question. And that was enough.
Mark entered the Georgian mansion next morning looking awful. His tuxedo was wrinkled all over, his bow-tie unfastened, dishevelled hair and weary eyes. His attention focused on someone sitting on the sofa. Andrew. A glacial rage froze his movements. Had the damn rascal slept there? Worse: had he slept with her? They seemed quite close at the party. His first instinct was to punch the guy out of his house. But then he remembered that Civilization was too old for him to fail it now. Consented sex wasn’t a crime after all. Whereas sinful fantasies...
“May I help you?” A cold treatment was the maximum he could afford.
“Oh, Mr Benton!” He lifted his head from his book and smiled easily. “We’re all going on a picnic. I came to pick Amy up.”
Mark remembered Amy saying something about it. “I see.” His deep male voice acknowledged.
“She told me to wait for a while.” He blinked. “Girls, you know.”
Girls, yes, she was a girl, just out of school. He wondered why he insisted in forgetting this detail. “Getting close the both of you, are you?” He had to know.
Andrew smiled dreamingly and Mark didn’t need any other answer to go to boiling jealous mode. “Well, boy,” Mark said in a low, silkily threatening tone, “you get this straight: Amy is going to university and will be very busy to care for boys in the years to come. You’d better not stand in her way.”
The boy seemed taken aback and was about to answer when they heard steps on the stairs.
When Amy showed in the sitting room, she had a very serious expression in her face. S
he had overheard what Mark told Andrew and didn’t like it in the least. Mark didn’t have the right. She felt angry at him first time in those years. She hadn’t been angry at him even in the peak of her teenager-hood. Something broke inside of her, if she only recognised what.
She gave a hollow smile to Andrew, but couldn’t bring herself to look at Mark, last night flashing in her memory. Her muscles were tense and she felt a little dizzy for lack of sleep.
For Mark, her indifference felt like she had hit his stomach in a full blow. He stared at her sideways, trying to swallow the lumpy knowledge that she was going to spend the day with this project of a man. He had to get hold of himself and he had to do it fast, lest he’d go crazy.
Amy had applied to a number of universities and was admitted to more than she expected. This made her feel proud of herself. Oxford was her choice. She had a notion that it’d be healthy to leave the Georgian mansion for a period. Besides, the institution offered exactly the course she wanted to go to. She was very excited about the new life she’d begin to lead in a few weeks’ time.
When Amy told Mark about her choice, he was tossed in a gloomy mood. He had expected that she would remain in London while studying. But he had offered her full sponsorship and he couldn’t go back in his word now. They had a deal and he’d stick to it, because then she’d stick to it herself. Thus he’d have something to look forward too.
Mark sat in his study in the Georgian mansion. All life was drained from it; or rather it was taken with Amy. She had left the week before and it already seemed like years. He hadn’t got the slightest idea of how he would endure years. She had written an e-mail to him saying that the student’s lodge was cosy and that her classes were beginning to pick pace. To keep his mind from it he drowned in work and exhausted himself in intense training. As if work and muscles could protect him from himself.
Loneliness was not a feeling Mark felt very often. He was constantly busy around his ever growing company and it left little time for other things. He had always been a person who kept mostly to himself. Reserved, from tender age. He had had quite an average childhood to be sure. His father had been an electronic technician working for a television and radio manufacturer. His mother had been a housewife. Mark considered he had a happy family. He had left home to attend college. His father passed away soon after he graduated and his mother decided to move to Cardiff, where she had relatives. The small inheritance Mark got from his father was invested in the beginnings of his company. His own old mother had passed away some years ago, which made Mark lose touch with what was left of his relatives.
Until Amy.
Only now did he realise how she had filled his life. Her cheerful disposition, her bright intelligence, her courage in adversity. All this time she had been part of his daily life. The Georgian mansion felt empty. His steps echoed in it when he arrived from work, and there was nobody to receive him, no one to talk to him. Vexed, he saw the time stretching ahead of him in an endless wait. How infuriating it was no to be able to change it.
Chapter III
The train glided in speed, maybe a little too much speed. Amy was coming back home; with a successful university degree. She deserved it, having studied hard and performed all her assignments with extreme care. A fully grown up woman by now, she couldn’t tell how she felt about going back. Home? Who knew? She hadn’t visited the Georgian mansion for the last two years. From the first year she had taken summer jobs on holidays, she made sure she paid her lodge since the beginning. She had had probationer jobs as well, which gave her extensive experience. First and second years she managed to spend Christmas at Mark’s house. On both occasions she felt awkward. They weren’t at ease at all. Never did she stay a full week then, but it was enough to cause her to be strained. So she made excuses for the last two Christmas, making other arrangements.
Actually, they were lame excuses, for she had been with Andrew. She never told Mark that Andrew was admitted at Oxford too. She didn’t want him interfering in her life. She got careful after what she had overheard the day after the prom. It hinted on Mark’s possessiveness. She had been only his charge and now she had a deal to go through.
Amy and Andrew had come close to getting engaged. As her course neared the end, she realized they didn’t have the same aims. He wanted a wife. She wanted a career. It seemed only natural that they broke up before they made a mistake.
Her heart wasn’t at average rate as she stood on the front steps. The door opened abruptly. Mark. How could that tall man look even more attractive was an unanswered question for her. His remarkable eyes still held that deep intensity she so well remembered. His dark hair impeccably cut. But his body...oh, Heaven help her...his body. His muscles had grown to be powerfully built, giving him total broad shoulders. He looked like a hero in his dragging magnetism. His tailored trousers and shirt fit him only too well.
“There you are.” He said in his a-tone-too-pleasant voice.
Mark had waited for her the whole day. He hadn’t even gone to work. He wanted to be home when she arrived. Never would his pride allow him to tell her how demolishing disappointed he was when she didn’t show up even for Christmas in the last couple of years.
“Here I am to carry out my part of our deal.” Neutrality was a thin defence, she knew, but it was all she could produce at that moment.
He stared at her for long seconds. She was even more stunningly beautiful than he remembered. Through her simple but charming suit he could see the swell of her full breasts, her slim waist and round hips. Her hair-pin couldn’t hold all her cinnamon hair, making part of it fall in silky ringlets around her perfectly heart-shaped face. Those amazing translucent honey eyes had lost the girlish look to give way to a mature, self-assured stare that was making his breath become suspiciously irregular.
Mrs Smith came to greet her cheerfully as he made way for Amy to come in. The years had weighted little on the elderly lady and she was still very active. She offered them tea.
Amy sat in the sitting-room felling irritatingly self-conscious. There were warm waves reaping through her. She thanked her wonder-bra for hiding further signals. “I heard you overran the competition.” She was sitting ram-rod straight on the arm-chair.
His company had bought its biggest competitor, going global and having shares in the stock market. Mark Benton Systems, the MBS, climbed to the top of the world in security systems services. Mark was a magnate now. He entered the Forbes ranking and the business media was buzzing around him.
“So they say.” He eased on the sofa as if he was as relaxed as a yoga master, his tailored trousers and shirt clinging to his muscles outrageously. His shirt clung to his six-pack abdominal.
Tumultuous feelings swarmed insider her. She felt threatened by his watchfulness, but his attractiveness drew her so unbearably that she had to harden all her nerves to keep still. It had been like this since she left. The pattern repeated itself when she came to visit and now again.
She finished her tea. “Excuse me.” She murmured and went up with her baggage. Her room was safe territory.
Mark watched her go, hands in his pockets. He wanted her. He had done it for years now. But he wouldn’t make a fool of himself by letting her know it. Being near her was a self-control test, though. One he wasn’t sure he could take.
“Mrs Smith was very particular on keeping your room as you left it.” His feet brought him there. He didn’t seem to have a conscious will of his own where she was concerned.
She startled at his deep male voice. She had her back to the open-door, busy at tiding. She turned to him in a swift movement. His unforgettable eyes were fixed on her, he stood legs apart, dominating the door frame. His thumbs hung on his trousers waistline. A predator. Her answer got stuck in her throat. She raised her huge stare to him. All those old sensations stirring again. Reaps of fire assailed her blood, alerting her feminine instincts, prickling her skin.
When she thought she could take no more, he angled his stare, boring into her, wh
ich squeezed unwanted responses from her. Her legs treaded back on their own accord to put vital space between them. Her spine met the brass bed-board, as her feminine instincts commanded her to lie down on the mattress for this male. She fought this mad impulse grabbing the delicate bars with her hands behind her back. Her eyes dilated as their stares clashed. Her hands tightened on the bars even harder.
This feminine reaction of fear and wantonness she showed set Mark ablaze. He felt the urge of taking her there and then and lose himself in her to oblivion. His breath was altered. He had to get out of this spell. Now! “No boy-friends left behind?” A hoarse question.
She moistened her full lips, nervous and his eyes widened. “This is none of your business.” Her smile mocked him, or so she tried.
His eyes hardened. “Of course it is! How will I know you just played around while I was sponsoring you?”
This brought her to an enraged state. How dared he, after these years of hard work? After all the school reports she’d sent him! Clear mind eroded. She came near him in a transparent intention to shake his arrogance off his face by lecturing him, pointing her finger daringly at him.
Quick as lightning, he stopped her mid-way. Even quicker, he brought her hands over her head and made her face the wall, pinning her there with one hand. Their breaths were ragged by now. Amy swore silently to get herself in such disadvantage.
