Third Time Lucky (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Rosemary J. Anderson

  Frightened beyond words, she jumped violently as her door was thumped.

  Oh God—they had found her!

  Hardly daring to move, Holly rose slowly to her feet. What to do? Should she answer it? Or should she pretend she wasn’t in?

  Undecided she hesitated. Another thump and her heart jumped in her mouth. She had to answer it. Not doing so would be more frightening than opening the door. The fear of the unknown.

  On leaden feet, Holly moved slowly and silently to the door, stopping briefly to pull an umbrella out of the stand. If she needed to she would defend herself. Pressing the side of her head against the wood she listened intently only to jump like a scalded cat when another thump shook the wood.

  “Wh–who is it?” She bit her lip to stop them trembling.

  “Open the door, Holly, its Mason, Mason Black.”

  “Oh, Mason!” With shaking fingers Holly quickly turned the key and flung the door wide.

  Mason looked strong, dependable, and safe, and flinging the umbrella to the floor she threw herself into his arms sobbing incoherently.

  Moments later Holly was safely ensconced in the kitchen and Mason was holding her close. Inarticulate words tumbled disjointedly from her lips as she buried her face in his shirt.

  “Shush, cry it all out, and then we’ll talk.” Sitting on a chair, Mason drew her onto his lap and let her cry out her worry, her stress, and her fear.

  Finally all cried out, her head pounding and her eyes sore, Holly lifted her head and stared into Mason’s eyes. They were so very beautiful, slate-gray but with tiny flecks of iridescent blue.

  Unclenching her fist she pushed the crumpled piece of paper into his hand.

  Slowly straightening out the note, Mason read and reread what had been written.

  “When did you get this, Holly?”

  “It was on the mat when I got up, but in the night I thought I’d heard the gate open, so I guess it was delivered then.” She looked worriedly at him. “Mason, they know where I live and they are going to kill me.”

  “No, no they won’t, Holly. This is just a threat to get more money from you, but it’s sick and dangerous.”

  “How did they know where I live?”

  “Oh, Holly, the clues were all there for anyone to see. On your profile you gave the area in which you live, so they only needed to look you up in the phone book. And as you gave them your real name and you described your life, where you worked, and what you did for a living, you really did make it so easy for them to find you.”

  “Mason, what can I do? I don’t understand why this is happening to me. All I wanted was a home of my own, a husband, and a family.” She looked him straight in the face. “You think I’m foolish, don’t you? But I’ve been so lonely since Adam died and I just wanted to have someone coming home in the evening, to share things with, and someone to talk to. You know someone with whom to tell all my secrets, all my hopes and fears. You see I’ve never wanted a career or to be independent. I’m not a decision-maker or a world changer. Ever since I can remember, well, since I was a little girl playing houses with my dolls all I’ve ever wanted was a husband and children, to be someone’s mum.” She bit her lip, suddenly for some reason feeling slightly ashamed.

  “Well, I guess if I was honest I just wanted love.”

  Mason’s eyes softened. He loved this woman so much and as yet she was completely unaware of him as a man she could love. Yes, they had had sex, but for Holly it had been an act of comfort, getting close to someone. And unfortunately, it probably wouldn’t have mattered who it was, which was why she had got so entangled in the fantasy this bastard Alex had woven. But he could and would offer her a way out, a chance to live the life she’d always wanted. It was a risk but one he was prepared to take.

  “Listen to me, Holly. If there was anything in the world you could have, what would it be?” He held up a hand as she opened her mouth to speak. “No, think carefully, be sure of your answer.”

  Holly, obedient to Mason’s softly spoken words, thought carefully. Then, looking him straight in the face she drew a deep breath. “Promise you won’t laugh.”

  Mason nodded gravely.

  “Well if it was anything, anything at all, it would be marriage.”

  “Why?”

  “What?”

  “Why marriage when there are so many other things you could have said?”

  “Because it’s all I’ve ever wanted, dreamed about. When I married Adam it was like a dream come true, I was marrying a man that would stay with me forever, protect me, help me, and most of all would always be my friend and I would at last have a home of my very own and not just one where I was a guest. And…” She drew a shaky breath.” I want that again, that closeness to someone, that feeling that no matter how many stupid things I do or say he will always be there for me, fighting in my corner. Old-fashioned of me I know. Today women want to earn big money and be competitive, but that’s not me.”

  “In that case, Holly, will you marry me?”

  Holly stared at Mason, her mouth working but no sounds emerging. She loved Mason. She knew that now, but she also knew he didn’t love her. She was just Adam’s widow. A woman that had got herself into one god-awful mess, and being the kind of man he was he wanted to help her, protect her. So she had to be a realist here. He wasn’t going to magically fall in love with her, or suddenly find he couldn’t live without her. To him she would be just one more mission he was undertaking. Could she live with that? She bit her lip. She really didn’t have to think about it. The answer was yes, she could. She loved Mason and maybe in time and with patience she could make him love her in return. And if not, then her love would be enough for both of them. She would be a good wife, the kind of wife he wanted her to be. She would make a home for him and eventually with luck, be a good mother to his children, their children. And most of all, she would never ever feel lonely again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Holly looked down at her hand, to where a thick, plain gold band gleamed on her finger and she felt…

  Elated? Happy? She frowned trying to define just what her feelings were. No, her feelings were more like comforted and protected. That was it, protected. Safe in the aura of Mason’s protection.

  Mason had got a special licence and she had a bare week to do the things a new bride needed to do. However, the wedding had been quiet but beautiful. September had overnight turned into October, but the day had been bright and the sun shiny with not a cloud blighting the bright blue autumn sky. The church had been old, golden-stoned with beautiful stained glass windows and a tall steeple. Surrounding the church was a delightful ancient graveyard with amazing headstones of angels, lambs, and open bibles carved in stone and granite. Autumn flowers were in abundance, the russet-coloured chrysanthemums, the red, white, and pink of cyclamen, and the dark green foliage of holly laden with red berries. Mason had been instrumental in having the church filled with an abundance of beautiful sweet-smelling flowers and had provided her with a matching bouquet. She looked at the flowers now steeping in a vase of fresh water, cream freesias, roses, and tulips caressed in a cradle of vibrant green fern.

  Her dress had been a find, the price slashed in the sale because it was only available in a small size 10. It was ivory silk with a tight bodice set in the style of the fifties. It had a knee-length full skirt puffed out with netting petticoats and happily she had found shoes that complemented the simple style. Her hair she had arranged artfully in a loose coil at the back of her head and secured it with a beautiful old silver-and-pearl clip, a gift from Mason. And because winter was just a sigh away she had finished the outfit in a smooth cream hooded cashmere cape. The service had been short and sweet and her heart had all but stopped when Mason had smiled disarmingly at her as he slipped the ring on her finger. And his kiss? She ran her tongue along her lower lip reliving the sensations. His lips had just brushed hers more like a sigh than an actual kiss, but it had been heavenly. But the crowning glory had been when they left
the church where guards of honour raised their swords to form an arch. Mason’s friends all exceedingly dashing in their dress uniform had brought back memories of her marriage to Adam. And, she bit her lip, as she had glanced across the simple but beautiful graveyard. She could have sworn that under a giant oak as old as time itself she had glimpsed Adam, his eyes twinkling as he smiled his approval. She shook her head and gave a small laugh at her own whimsy. But the memory of the exquisite contentment she’d felt at that moment still lingered like an aura around her.

  Holly looked up as Mason entered the room, and the soft but beautiful memory of Adam diminished into the gentle breeze that had mysteriously wafted through the room. However, another altogether different but delicious feeling took its place at the sight of her new husband. They were at his, no their, country home and it was breathtaking. Saviour was a small manor house, the stone golden in the mellow light of the fading day. A beautiful edifice, set in ten acres of woodland in the Cotswolds, just a stone’s throw away from Morton-in-Marsh. She smiled diffidently at Mason, unsure of how to act. He was now her husband and although they had once slept together she still felt inordinately shy.

  “Mrs. Henry will bring tea in a moment.” He raised an eyebrow. “Sit down, Holly. This is your home now.”

  Holly sat, perched uncomfortably on the edge of a Queen Anne chair and looked nervously at him as he sat opposite. “I–I thought you lived in an apartment.”

  “I do, well, some of the time, but this is my home, my real home and I, no we, also have a small cottage in Cornwall. However, now we are married this will be our main home. I will only stay in the flat when I’m on duty and can’t get back here.”

  “Oh!” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and stared into the fire, watching the bright yellow flames leaping merrily up the chimney. The phone rang and she jumped. Mason, with a quiet word of apology, got up to answer it, leaving her to look curiously around.

  The living room was large with a huge stone fireplace taking up most of one wall, the fire burning brightly shooting small feisty sparks into the hearth. The wallpaper was of silk, a pale silvery cream with a narrow silver stripe. The floor was a real wood, mellowed with age with a deep-pile scarlet rug underfoot, almost the size of the room itself and her feet sank luxuriously into its comfort. An enormous tan-coloured leather sofa was positioned opposite the fire and was scattered with large cream cushions and flanked by two equally enormous chairs. High on the ceiling a bright, crystal chandelier cast shadows across the ornate plasterwork and prisms of light danced merrily around the room.

  Mason finished his call just as the door opened and Mrs. Henry came in carrying a silver tea tray. She was a short, well-built woman with a kindly face and wore her gray hair in a bun tucked up under a pink net. Her dress was black and plain, covered with a startling red old-fashioned pinafore with the words “Housekeepers Do It In Rubber Gloves” scrawled in white across the bodice.

  When finally alone with her husband, Holly poured the tea and tried to relax, but she had to ask.

  “Are you rich, Mason? I mean…”

  She indicated the room. “All this, your apartment, and the house in Cornwall.”

  “Yes, Holly, we are.”

  “Then why…”

  “Why?”

  “What I mean is why are you in the SAS? You’ve no need of the money.”

  “Money isn’t everything, Holly. As a young man…”

  He gave a self-deprecating grin. “Well, younger man, I wanted adventure, a purpose in life, and I wanted to be able to make a difference, and that’s something I found in the SAS. However, now that I have a wife things will change. I’m leaving the forces and will instead concentrate my time on making a haven for animals.” He smiled. “Another one of my ambitions, to make a wildlife sanctuary on this land.”

  Holly smiled eagerly, back caught up in the idea. “Really, that would be marvellous. I’ve always loved animals and it sounds an exciting venture. But won’t you miss your regiment and the camaraderie?”

  “Well…” He leaned back in his chair. “We will have other things to concentrate on, won’t we?” He smiled at the rosy hue that invaded her cheeks. “But in the meantime, we have tonight, and then I must return to the regiment. It will be about two months, around Christmas before I can leave. So I’m afraid no honeymoon and you will be on your own except for Mrs. Henry and her cats, Maxwell and Mercedes. However, William the gardener will be in and out of the house and of course there’s Sumo.”

  “Sumo?”

  “My dog.” He whistled and the door was nudged open by a large hair-covered snout.

  “This is Sumo. He’s very gentle and wants to be friends.”

  Holly squealed with excitement as an enormous shaggy gray-and-white long-haired Akita loped toward her, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth and his little black eyes gleaming in excitement.

  She sighed in supreme contentment. For once she had it all, well, nearly it all. She gave a fleeting thought to babies. A house, a husband, cats, and now a dog. It was a new beginning and life was finally going to be perfect!

  * * * *

  It was later that night and Holly was standing undecided in the large bedroom that she was now to share with Mason. She gnawed her lower lip. Should she wait hovering like a simpering virgin in the middle of the room? Or should she get under the downy duvet feigning sleep? Or maybe she should play the sophisticate and lounge sexily on top of the covers? She felt shy, which was silly really because it wasn’t as if she hadn’t had sex with Mason before, but somehow tonight was different. Tonight she wasn’t an emotional wreck in need of comfort sex. Tonight she was a married woman, a bride waiting for her new husband. Decision made she pulled back the covers and threw off her robe, but it was too late. Mason entered the room, his eyes seeking her out.

  “Oh, hi.” Holly straightened and self-consciously twirled a strand of hair around her fingers unaware that the light from the moon shining through the window made her nightgown almost transparent, outlining her curves to his all-seeing eyes.

  Mason smiled and walked slowly toward her. Taking her gently in his arms, he bent his head and kissed her tenderly. Her eyes fluttered closed and her breath left her lips in a gentle sigh. Gathering her farther into his arms, he deepened the kiss, his mouth exploring, enticing, drawing from her an answering response. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed closer, her breasts brushing his hard masculine chest. Lifting Holly into his arms, Mason laid her gently down on the sheet and, quickly discarding the towel wrapped around his hips, covered her body with his.

  Holly closed her eyes, relishing the hardness of Mason’s body pressing hers to the mattress. Her senses were alert, taking in everything about Mason, the feel, the touch, the smell, and the taste. She revelled in the tensile strength of his muscles sheathed in soft flesh. The slight abrasion of his pubic hair against her soft mound, the hardness of his hips in the cradle of her pelvis, and the long muscular power of his legs between her open ones. And finally, the engorged soft potency of his cock nestling against her labia. Running the tip of her tongue along his throat as he kissed her brow, she savoured the slight salty taste of his skin and the smell! She inhaled gently. He smelled gorgeous, of lemon soap, minty toothpaste, and the particular masculine, musky scent that was uniquely his. His mouth caressed as his hands soothed and moulded. Her breath caught and her lungs felt as though they were about to explode as his mouth closed over one aching nipple and sucked, his teeth grazing its tender surface. Her head thrashed from side to side and her body trembled. Murmuring softly Mason soothed her tremulous flanks with a soft sweep of his caressing hands.

  “Easy,” he murmured as his mouth closed over hers in a deep, soul-destroying kiss. Wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips, Holly pleaded for his possession. Raising his hips, Mason nudged his cock at the heart of her femininity and with a swift thrust entered her warm and welcoming body.

  Holly gave a soft cry, revelli
ng in the fullness that his possession brought. The size and strength of him stretched her yielding muscles to the hilt and as he began to move, Holly felt as if she had finally come home.

  Meeting thrust with thrust, Holly rode on a storm of emotions and feeling. The sensation in her pussy that had once been an ache became a tender pain, and she welcomed the primal, irresistible urge to be impregnated. Her body surged with sensations she had never experienced before and she clawed at his back primitively urging him on. The feel of his cock sheathed inside her, the tightness and fullness of her pussy and the rapid tattoo of her heartbeat pulsating with each thrust of his cock initiated that amazing but elusive phenomenon of the earth moving. Then as she began the dizzying spiral toward orgasm she cried out her encouragement to the culmination of the mating dance with the words “Fuck me, Mason, and fuck me hard.” Reaching the peak of satisfaction it was as if time stood still, and as she teetered on the edge of complete and utter exhilaration, she experienced a sudden huge rise of love as Mason groaned his climax and pumped his hot seed deep into her waiting womb.

  * * * *

  Jules De Verne pushed away from his desk, his chair toppling to the floor. Slamming his fists down on its surface, he angrily swept the papers onto the floor. Swearing profusely in Portuguese, his face twisted in rage, the scar a livid red against his olive pox-ridden skin. He took a deep breath before righting his chair and reseating himself in front of the computer. Still no message from Holly.

  It had been nearly two weeks since he had sent the message to her threatening her with dire consequences should she not send the money, and yet she had not responded. What was happening? Where was she? Had she taken fright and was now refusing to open his messages? He snarled in rage. For some reason she had got under his skin, a stupid, pathetic, wretched woman who thought she could outwit him. He’d spent far too long grooming her, making her need him, need his attention and the money she’d paid was not enough, not nearly enough. He was arrogantly certain that with a bit more time he could guilt her into getting more. She wasn’t yet broken. And yet, she’d disappeared, disobeyed him, and discredited him in the eyes of his men. He was livid. No woman made a fool of him. They went when he said they could go and not before, and he wasn’t finished with Holly Young—not yet!