Third Time Lucky (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Rosemary J. Anderson

  “Now what?” she asked, lifting her chin and staring at Alex.

  Alex grinned at Holly’s pathetic attempt at bravado. The woman was scared. He knew it. He could smell her fear and he found it erotic. He liked the fact that he had this power over her. The power of life and death was potent and it felt incredible.

  “Now, you take your clothes off.”

  “What? Why?”

  Alex smiled in satisfaction. He could hear the slight tremble in her voice, the fear she tried hard to disguise. The helplessness, the frailty of women pleased him. With fear came control and with helplessness and frailty came fear. It was an explosive combination and he enjoyed the power.

  “Because, woman, I have an itch that needs to be scratched and you are so very beautiful. I will lose myself in your body, enjoy the ripeness of your breasts and the softness of your pussy before I kill you. You owe me, and so I have now come to collect. Now obey me and take your clothes off and if you please me I will make your death quick and painless, but if not…” He shrugged, spreading his hands.

  Seconds passed as Holly hesitated. Then taking a sustaining breath and acting with a show of calm she didn’t really feel, she slipped the coat off her shoulders. Now she had to play the siren for all she was worth. Smiling she fluttered her eyelashes and suggestively flicked her tongue across her lower lip. Alex’s gaze followed her movements, his look searching, intense. Catching hold of the bottom of her sweater, she slowly began to lift it, drawing it up higher and higher until she was free of the soft wool. Throwing the garment to one side where it lay like a pink marshmallow among the straw, she fingered the button at the top of her trousers. Alex narrowed his eyes and grinned, lustfully looking at her breasts barely covered in the lacy cups of her bra before his gaze dropped to her toying fingers.

  “Pull your pants down,” he ordered.

  “No, no, I can’t see. It’s too dark in here. It would be better if we lit the lamp.” Her eyes went to the lamp on the counter.

  “No, the dark is good.”

  “No, it’s scary. There are mice and things in here, but if we have more light the glow will keep them away and we will then be able to…enjoy each other.”

  Alex stared at her, his look suspicious, and Holly held her breath. Would he accept that she’d had an about-turn and now wanted him to have sex with her?

  However, she had no need to worry. Alex’s arrogance ensured he would believe any woman would be pleased to lie with him, no matter what the circumstances. Her breath left her body in a silent whoosh, as he nodded his head.

  Sashaying over to the lamp, she lifted the glass globe, struck a match, and held it to the already trimmed wick. The light glowed softly creating an aura of warmth around her like a halo. Turning toward him, she held the lantern aloft and sashayed back to stand in front of him. This was it! Her one chance to escape, so she’d better not blow it. Sweat trickled relentlessly down her back and her palms felt cold and clammy. Lifting a hand, she drew it gently down his pox-scarred cheek, her finger tracing the puckered scar down one side. Then as he smiled and reached out to encircle her waist, she pressed closer and wrapped her arms around him, surreptitiously removing the glass globe from the lamp and letting it drop silently to the hay. And then suddenly, in one swift movement she drew slightly back and pushed the burning wick hard against his face. Alex screamed and released her to hold the side of his face and in that moment, as the flame was extinguished against his cheek, she could smell the stench of burning flesh and hear the hiss of searing skin. Running to the side of the barn, she lifted the pitchfork and as he turned to her like a demented demon intent on revenge she lunged for him, only to have the fork wrenched from her grasp by another hand. Jerking in shock, she quickly turned to face the intruder.

  “Mason,” she cried, feeling a mixture of relief, love, and happiness.

  Sparing her no more than a glance, Mason put her to one side and with an almighty swing smashed Alex in the face with his clenched fist. Alex went down like a rock in a shallow pool and lay inert on the soft, fragrant straw.

  “Is he unconscious?” Holly, finally released from the fear that had bound her for what seemed like hours, gave Alex a good hard kick just to make sure.

  Pulling her away, Mason gave a bark of laughter. “He’s definitely unconscious. Now whilst I immobilise him run up to the house and call the police.”

  Turning to the door, Holly was halted by Mason’s amused voice. “And, Holly…” She glanced enquiringly at him, her hand on the latch.

  “Put some clothes on first.”

  Her mouth shaping into an O, Holly, grinning sheepishly, quickly donned her sweater and her coat. However, before stepping out into the snow-ravished field she turned just for a moment to watch Mason as he bent to bind Alex’s hands and feet.

  “My hero,” she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears of joy.

  * * * *

  The police arrived rather dramatically in a helicopter and took statements whilst lingering over a mug of hot chocolate before taking Jules De Verne aka Alex away. It came as no surprise that he was a wanted criminal, wanted in many countries for deception, threats to kill, assault, and theft. It seemed that grooming women and men on the Internet had become for him a very lucrative career. Apparently deceiving lonely people into parting with their life savings and making them fall in love with his fabricated persona was big business. But now finally Alex was caught, and it would be a very long time before he saw the free light of day again. Mrs. Henry was found tied and gagged in a cupboard, cross and indignant, and threatening all sorts of dire consequences to the coward that had assaulted a poor defenceless old woman, a statement that made Holly laugh until she encountered Mrs. Henry’s fierce glare. However, more than thankful to still be alive the housekeeper had thrown herself into making a mountain of sandwiches and enormous pots of hot chocolate. Sumo had been found and released from the cellar, thankfully completely unharmed and finally all was quiet.

  * * * *

  It was late, and the house finally had a peaceful aura to it. Mrs. Henry had retired to her little flat over the garage to eat chocolate and sit in front of the latest soap on television. William had retired to his cottage on the grounds but only after first giving Holly a beautiful sweet smelling rose. A gesture to say he was glad she was safe. Sumo was lying stretched out before the fire with Mrs. Henry’s two cats, Maxwell and Mercedes, snuggled up beside him. She looked up as Mason came toward her carrying a plate of warm mince pies. Mason was attentive and reassuring and she felt content—yes, that was it. She finally felt content. Standing at the window and looking out into the dark night, she noticed that the sky was at last clear, a dark velvety sky with a sprinkling of stars and a huge blood moon.

  “Bad weather,” she murmured.

  “Holly?”

  “A blood moon, beautiful though it is, is a portent for weather.”

  Mason laughed at her whimsical outlook and offered the plate. Accepting a mince pie, she bit into the soft butter crustiness and savoured the sweet mincemeat underneath. “Snow’s stopped.”

  “Yes, but it has drifted, and so it will be a few days before anything gets through.” Mason took her hand and led her back to the fire. Pulling her to sit beside him on the sofa, he threw an arm across her shoulders and kissed her cheek.

  “What’s up, Holly? You’re perfectly safe now you know.”

  Holly tilted her head until it touched his shoulder and she gazed dreamily into the flickering flames dancing up the chimney. “I know, it’s just that now everything that has happened seems so surreal. All this occurred because I was lonely and just wanted a friend and then foolishly I got sucked into Alex’s lies. I just can’t believe I was that stupid.”

  “Not stupid, Holly, just lonely and trusting. Unfortunately it happens to hundreds of women and men as well. People like Alex are expert at choosing and grooming their targets, although fortunately they are not all stalkers intent on killing their victims. Usually they are just out for the
money and when it dries up they move on to the next target. So don’t beat yourself up, Holly. It could have happened to anyone.”

  Nodding, Holly silently vowed to forget all about Alex and begin to live the life she had always dreamed about. She had everything, well, nearly everything. A wonderful home set in the most beautiful countryside around. No worries over money, and she had friends such as Mrs. Henry and William and the gentlest of dogs in Sumo and most of all, leaving the best till last, a devastating, handsome husband that was strong yet gentle, tender and protective, and she loved him. Moving slightly away to gaze into Mason’s rugged face, she licked suddenly dry lips. Now was the time. But still she hesitated. What if her words ruined what they had? Was it worth the risk?

  He lifted an enquiring eyebrow. “Holly?”

  Briefly closing her eyes she took a deep breath and made a sudden decision. Yes, it was worth it.

  “Mason I–I need to tell you something, but I hope…” She took another sustaining breath. “I sincerely hope that what I need to tell you won’t ruin what we have. I mean, I hope it won’t change how you feel about me—our friendship.”

  “Holly, just tell me.”

  She swallowed. “I love you!” There, she had said it. The words, the feelings were out in the open, waiting for his response.

  Mason smiled a soft, slow smile that darkened the gray of his eyes and brought out the flecks of blue.

  “I know.” He ignored her gasp of surprise. “And I love you as well, Holly, always have. I was just waiting for you to realise you felt the same way about me.”

  “Mason,” she whispered before throwing herself in his arms to be kissed most thoroughly.

  Epilogue

  Finally it was Christmas day and the whole house looked festive and jolly. The fire was burning brightly, the flames dancing up the chimney like frenzied imps. The stockings, filled and bulging, were hanging from the mantel and the tree was twinkling thanks to the myriad of white fairy lights decking its sweet-smelling branches. Swags of holly, mistletoe, and scarlet ribbon were artfully displayed around the room and an enticing smell was emerging from the kitchen. Holly was surrounded by pretty, festive paper and Mason was sitting next to her on the sofa enjoying her delight at the beautiful diamond-and-sapphire bracelet he had given her.

  Pulling Holly into his arms, Mason sought her lips and kissed her deep, long, and hard. Winding her arms around his neck, Holly sighed in satisfaction. This was where she wanted to be, living in the country in a home of her own, but mostly in the arms of the man she loved and who loved her in return. What more could she ask for? Her eyes twinkled merrily.

  Sumo, chasing after a piece of ribbon, jumped up onto the sofa, breaking them apart. Laughing with the sheer joy of living, Holly hugged the big bear of a dog to her and kissed him on the nose.

  “Hey, wife, save some of those kisses for me,” Mason laughingly demanded, pushing the dog to the floor. Gazing lovingly at his master, Sumo, his tongue lolling out of the side of his big grinning mouth, bounded off in the pursuit of a tasty tidbit from the kitchen, leaving Mason to take up where he left off.

  Sighing blissfully Holly succumbed to Mason’s irresistible charms and gave herself up to his sweet caresses. A satisfying time later and Holly reluctantly pulled free and gazed a trifle shyly at her husband.

  “Mason, we have to talk. Well, I have something I’ve got to tell you.”

  Mason’s smile was tender, reassuring. “What is it, Holly?”

  “Well…” Now the time had come to tell him her news she felt inordinately shy, unsure how to say what she needed to say.

  “Well, we’ve never discussed some things, Mason, and so I don’t really know how you feel about…things, but…” She bit her lip and looked at him from under her lashes.

  “Spit it out, Holly. There’s nothing you can’t tell me.”

  “Well, you know you said you loved me, and you know I love you,” she quickly added as he made to speak. “Well, the thing is, something has happened and…”

  “You’ve fallen out of love with me?” An enquiring eyebrow rose.

  “Err, no, I…”

  “You’ve found another man and want to be set free?”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  “I know, you’ve decided to become a career girl and want to go to London to find fame and fortune?”

  “What? No! Mason, I’m trying to tell you I’m…”

  “Pregnant?”

  “No! Yes, I mean yes—but how did you…”

  “Do it?”

  “What?” She laughed up at him. “I, err, think I know how you well, how we did it. I mean I couldn’t not do could I?” She blushed in confusion. “What I mean is how did you know I was pregnant? I’ve only just found out myself.”

  “Holly.” He gently pulled her back into his arms. “Holly, we’ve only been married a few months, but I think I know the workings of your body almost as well as you do. You’ve not had a period for some time and well, that leads to a little suspicion. But then when you started to have a queasy stomach in the mornings, I put two and two together and adding your, err, almost insatiable appetite for sex to that suspicion I could only come to one conclusion, and that was that you were pregnant.”

  “Why didn’t you say?”

  “Because, my darling, this was your special news.”

  Holly smiled and, lifting a hand, caressed the side of his dear face. “No, my love, this is our special news, yours and mine. We made this baby together, so he, or she is ours, made with love.”

  Mason laughed and pulled her into his arms. “By my reckoning, Holly, this baby was made in lust.” He leered comically at her, making her laugh. “Conceived on that first night we had sex together. But…” He looked into her pouting face. “But that makes it no less special and no less loved.”

  Mason pulled an unresisting Holly back into his hard muscular arms. Arms that felt safe and secure, arms that protected and comforted, the arms of the man who was the father of her child and the man she truly loved above all else.

  “It was third time lucky after all,” she whispered as she fell back against the cushions, pulling him with her.

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Rosemary Anderson was born in Shipston-upon-Stour Warwickshire England and is one of seven children. Born into a military family, she has moved all over the country. She now lives in the village of Adlington in Lancashire and shares her home with a large dog, a long haired Akita named Sumo and numerous cats. She enjoys reading, going to the cinema, eating out, and spending time with friends and family. Before moving to Lancashire she spent many years in Bristol working as a Legal/Financial Caseworker for the Legal Aid Commission. Her passion is for all animals and of course writing.

  For all titles by Rosemary J. Anderson, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/rosemary-j-anderson

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com