by Ally Forbes
Tara moaned softly and pulled his head into her, rolling waves of desire moving from her breasts to her sex.
He was savouring every moment with her, every part of her. She could tell by his breathing that he was struggling to keep control but this made the experience sharper, more exquisite.
He kissed and licked down her flat stomach and then stood up to remove his trousers and underwear.
Tara watched him, his body strong, muscled, defined and perfect. She gasped inwardly at the size of him, his erection strong and explosive.
He knelt on the floor between her legs and kissed the inside of her knees and up the inside of her thighs, moving her legs over his shoulders as he did so.
Tara threw her head back, unable to restrain her desire.
He lapped at her sex, kissing her clitoris, licking gently at her. He pushed a long finger into her and then another.
For the first time she heard him moan. His eyes were closed and he removed his long fingers and replaced them with his warm, wet tongue.
‘Arlen.’ She gasped as her orgasm knifed through her, pulling his head closer to her. He continued to lap at her until the wave of orgasm subsided and then moved up between her legs, positioning himself at the entrance of her sex.
He paused momentarily and then pushed slowly into her, watching himself disappear into her inch by inch.
‘Arlen.’ She felt herself expand to take him, stretching slowly and deliciously. Deep inside her now, he paused and leaned over her, closing the distance between them and kissed her. She could taste herself on him and feel him deep inside her. He didn’t move, his eyes closed, savouring the feeling of her tight sex.
His hand reached for her breasts, pushing at the full, pillowy softness before rolling her nipple lazily. He started to move in her, gently, smoothly. She could feel the heat of him inside her and felt herself build slowly to another climax. He kissed her deeply and then rolle ind then d her over, never losing his stroke until he was lying underneath her and she on top of him.
Tara sat on him and moved slowly to her own rhythm, Arlen’s large hands massaging her breasts as she moved.
He pushed a couple of fingers between them, feeling himself pushing into her and stroking her clitoris as she moved, pushing gently against her.
He watched her as she moved on him, lost in their lovemaking.
‘Tara. Oh God Tara.’ He moaned softly, approaching his own climax.
She moved slowly on him now, trying to prolong the ultimate moment, not wanting it to end.
He bucked underneath her and closed his eyes, his large hands pulling her on to him. She felt herself orgasm around him, a second, more powerful, longer climax, intensely aware of him deep inside her.
He held her close, not wanting to let her go or to move out of her. They clutched each other, savouring each other’s warmth, completely aware of the momentous, intense moment they had just shared.
He kissed her again, smiling with delight, and she rolled off him and on to the bed.
‘As I said downstairs, you are quite something Mr Emberline’
The stars above them twinkled brightly and Arlen rested his head on the slope of her breast, his hand resting protectively, outstretched over her stomach.
Tara remained silent and watched their faint reflection in the glass above them, his beautiful body tucked up against hers, his eyes closed now, almost asleep. She noticed the frown on her face, not aware of the concern that was etched there.
‘What have I got myself into? What have I done? I made you a promise Arlen. ’ She stroked his dark hair and bent to kiss his forehead. His eyes were closed now, his long lashes dark against his skin, his breathing slowing as he fell deeper into sleep.
Tara watched him for some time longer until she was sure that he was completely asleep and then slowly extricated herself from his embrace. He hardly stirred. She pulled a blanket over him and kissed his forehead once more.
Pulling on her clothes, she moved swiftly and silently, now feeling sober and very tired. And worried.
Tonight had felt so great, so right, but at the same time, it felt like trouble. She checked her reflection in the mirror on the stairs and tiptoed down and out the door, closing it behind her as silently as she could.
She knew she shouldn’t be driving legally but it was a private estate and she felt sober enough to drive the short distance back to her house safely – she would never normally consider doing such a thing but she felt her options were limited. This place was having a strange and unsettling effect on her. She was doing things she wouldheags she never normally do.
She climbed into her car and slowly made her way back home, taking twice as long as normal. The cottage was a wonderful welcoming sight and she let herself in, closing the door on her worries. The answer phone light flashed in the darkness. She reached to switch on the small light beside the phone and pressed the message button.
‘Tara. This is Xander Ashbrook. I want to you to take me round the walled garden tomorrow. Meet me at the gate 6 am.’
‘Oh shit.’ Tara whispered. She glanced at her watch. It was 12:40 am.
She took a glass of fresh orange from the fridge and a couple of pain killers, switched off the lights and went up the stairs to get ready for bed. Sleep came quickly and she slept dreamlessly until the alarm woke her at 5, unaware of the trouble that would greet her with the sunrise of the new morning.
5.
Tara woke the next morning feeling a lot better than she had any right or expectation to. The alarm bleeped insistently at 5 am and it took her a moment to orientate, wondering where she was and if last night really was a dream. The slight discomfort and rawness between her legs told her all she needed to know.
She opened the curtains to the warm glow of the rising sun and the orchestral sound of birdsong.
As delighted as she was to see it was another beautiful day, after listening to the answer phone message last night, she had wished for rain, hoping that she would have a suitable excuse for cancelling Xander’s request for a meeting first thing.
It was not that she didn’t wish to see him. She was curious and excited by him. She also knew from what Arlen had said that this was a most unusual event – historically, he appeared to have little or no interest in the gardens. So what did he want to see her for? She had a strong instinct the garden was just a convenient pretext to see her, to exert his control over her and make her jump to his command.
She also worried about Arlen’s reaction to their meeting. She had to proceed professionally. Xander was her ultimate employer and had every right to ask her to let him know what she had planned for the gardens. She tried to put their previous meeting to the back of her mind.
She quickly got ready, pouring herself a large mug of coffee, grabbing some toast and her bag and heading out the door and down to the Garden.
Despite arriving there ten minutes early, she was dismayed to see that Xander was already there, leaning against the bonnet of a huge silver Land Rover, phone to his ear and back to her.
Tara pulled up her own little car beside his and taking her bag from the passenger seat she got out and stood at a short distance, not wanting to intrude on his phone conversation.
He must have been aware of her arrival but he continued his call, not acknowledging her presence. She couldn’t help overhearing his conversation but it was in a language she didn lant understand and it was only as she continued to listen to him that she realised it was Italian he spoke.
Tara continued to wait, listening to his soft, deep voice. Italian was such a fluid, beautiful language. She watched him as he had her back to her. He was dressed in a pair of navy Alexander McQueen trousers; the label obvious on the belt loop. He wore a cashmere V-neck over a white t-shirt. Everything about him screamed luxury.
She decided to make her way to the garden. Although she couldn’t understand his words it still seemed like too much of an intrusion standing so close to him and overhearing what he said. She walked over to t
he gate and entered her own world. She felt her tension ease as she walked into her own territory. Here she was a master of her craft and although Xander Ashbrook was her employer, he knew nothing in here.
She made her way between the shrubs and through the dense tangle of plants to the nearest espaliered pear tree on the wall. She watched the bees visit the beautiful blossom and her mind wandered to what would need to be done to restore these fantastic old trees.
‘Tara.’
She turned, surprised to see him so close to her. He stood on the path beside the tree she now stood at. She had not heard him enter the garden.
‘I’m sorry. I had to take that call. Business never sleeps or rests,’ he fiddled with the cuff of his sweater as he spoke.
He turned his back to her once again and looked out over the tangle that was his walled garden.
‘Please. Come and show me round. Tell me what needs to be done.’
He took a step towards her and reached out for her hand to help her through the undergrowth. His grip was firm but gentle and he pulled her towards him on the path.
Her foot caught on an exposed root and she tripped in to his arms. He caught her and held her for slightly longer than was necessary.
‘Sorry,’ she murmured.
He traced his finger down the side of her face. His touch was like fire on her.
Abruptly, he turned and walked from her.
‘Come Tara. I want to see your vision.’
He walked off ahead and she stood and watched him for a moment. Her earlier confidence was evaporating. She felt strangely vulnerable when she was with him. She wasn’t sure whether it was his dominant, authoritative attitude and the air of privilege and luxury that seeped from every pore of him. Or was it more visceral that that?
She hurried to catch up with him.
‘The garden’s magnificent. To find something like this...it’s....well...more than I could ever dream of.’
They continued to walk.
‘It’s a tangled mess just now but there’re huge amount of wonderful old specimens and specithat I’m sure can be saved. I hope to find historic records of the garden and recreate, as far as possible at least, the garden as it was at the turn of the last century. It would have been an incredible sight. It should be able to provide your kitchens with all the produce you need.’
He remained silent.
‘Where were you last night?
‘Sorry?’
‘Tara. You heard me. Where were you last night?’
Tara’s heart leapt in her chest. She felt she had walked straight into a trap.
‘I’m sorry but what business is it of yours where I am in my own time?’ her mouth was dry and her mind raced feverishly. She was surprised to feel guilty.
‘You were requested at my dinner last night, as an employee. You chose not to attend but your time was mine. Where were you last night?’
He spoke quietly but there was a sharp, accusatory tone in his voice.
He kept walking, taking them further into the garden.
For a reason she could not explain to herself, she lied.
‘I was home.’
‘You weren’t home Tara. I called.’
‘I was in the bath.’ Why was she even trying to explain?
He turned to face her, watching her intently.
‘I was at the house. You weren’t there Tara.’
Tara could feel the colour rising in her cheeks.
‘I explained my reasons for declining your late invitation last night. I don’t have to let you know my every movement. It really is none of your business.’
‘You are my business Tara.’
He turned once again.
‘Come, show me the old greenhouses.’
He pulled her hand and walked off quickly, pushing through the thicket with ease.
Tara had to break into a light jog as he pulled her behind him.
‘Xander, stop. STOP!’ she jerked her hand out of his firm hold and she stood in front of him as he turned to face her.
‘What’s this all about? You’re scaring me.’
He took a deep breath and looked at the ground. She could see him fight inwardly with something he wanted to say.
However, his control dominated and he raised his head to look at her. His eyes were the clearest, lucent blue and he, like Arlen, had incredible long, dark lashes. His gaze was piercing andme,piercin she felt in that moment that he knew exactly where she had been last night. Her heart seemed to take an interminable pause.
‘I want your opinion on my land in Italy. I have a large estate and vineyard in Tuscany where I spend half the year. It needs some attention. We’ll leave next week. For a month.’
Tara was shocked by the rapid turn of events.
‘No.’
It was his turn to look surprised.
‘You are my employee Tara. You’ll go where you’re needed and at the moment I need your input in Italy. There’s nothing here that can’t wait for another few months.’
‘I may be your employee but travel abroad was never part of my remit and I’ve barely begun my work here at Blackfell,’ she paused and added, ‘It was Blackfell that I was employed to restore.’
Ignoring her comments he replied, ‘We leave next week.’
In a millisecond, Tara weighed up her options. She could resign but she could not bear to let go of this chance in a lifetime. She needed to play for a bit of time, give herself a bit of wriggle room. She had no intention of going to Italy. If she could make a start here, she hoped that Xander would rapidly lose interest in her and leave her to continue with work in Blackfell.
‘Give me three weeks here.’
‘No. I need you next week.’
‘Look, if I can just make a plan, I can start work here. I have some good people I can trust to get on with the job while I’d be away.’
He remained silent.
‘Please,’ she whispered to him.
He sighed in frustration, ‘You have two weeks Tara. I want weekly progress reports.’
She knew that this was the end of the negotiations, if you could call it that.
‘Now please. Take me to these greenhouses.’
The tension in the air seemed to have evaporated. He thought he had what he wanted.
‘Sure,’ she answered simply, mind whirring, feeling the weight of her deceipt.
They walked on in silence.
‘Why didn’t you take the car?’
‘I’m sorry?’
Forcefully he repeated, ‘Why didn’t you take the car?’
Caught off-guard once again, Tara stammered, ‘I...I... have the use of your estate 4x4’s and my own car of course. It’s too generous a gift.’
‘I want you to have it Tara. I’ve arranged for it to be left at the cottage.’
‘Look, I’m just not comfortable with this. I...’ hafont>
Still he walked, nearing the old greenhouses on the sun-soaked south wall.
‘I used to play here as a child.’
He kept knocking her off her train of thought with the twists and turns in conversation.
The glass was mostly still intact in the greenhouses that spread in a great bank along the brick wall but the paint was badly flaking, spots of rot dotting the exposed timbers. Tara put out her hand and pulled off a flake of paint and rubbed gently at the wood underneath.
‘It’s not going to take too much to make this look great again. What was it like growing up in this place?’ she asked, wanting to know more about this man.
‘I spent the holidays on the Estate but I was educated in Italy,’ by way of explanation he added, ‘My mother was Italian.’
Tara’s phone rang. Fishing it out of her back pocket, she glanced at the number. She didn’t recognise it. She hit the ‘Reject’ button and put it back in her pocket.
‘Sorry.’
It rang again almost as soon as she put it back.
Again she hit the ‘Reject’ button and switched the phone off.
‘Someone’s keen to get hold of you this morning,’ he said, watching her closely.
‘Probably a sales call,’ she offered apologetically.
Xander bent his head and kissed her, pulling her close to him. Unexpected as the kiss was, she responded immediately, letting him hold her tight.
The kiss was brief but intense and Tara felt powerless to control her response to him.
He broke their embrace and took a step back.
‘Two weeks Tara.’
He turned sharply and left her. She watched him as he disappeared, feeling weak with the effect he had on her. She leaned up against the greenhouse, closed her eyes and raised her face to the warmth of the sun, basking in its restorative warmth. The air in the garden was warm with an almost sultry evening humidity. Her feelings were in turmoil, a sinking despair deep in her stomach. She should never have returned here. She had broken her own promise, her resolve not to become involved with these men, shattered. Her willpower dissolved in their company. This place was intoxicating.
She took a deep breath and savoured the silence.
Her phone rang again.
‘God damn it.’ She muttered, pulling the phone from her trouser pocket again.
The same unknown number flashed up. This time she answered.
‘Tara speaking.’
‘Tara. It’s Arlen.’
‘Arlen,’ she exclaimed unable to keep the surprise from her voice.
‘Why didn’t you stay last night?’
‘Arlen, I...I ‘ve work to do. I needed to get back home.’
‘I want to see you today.’
‘I’m sorry Arlen, I’ve got a mountain to climb with the garden. I need to get things moving as soon as possible.’
‘ Look. Let me bring you lunch. It won’t keep you away from work too long.’
‘Well...’
‘Meet me outside the garden gates at 12.’
He hung up and Tara smiled. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer but he did it with a soft Irish charm that Tara already adored.
She made her way back through the garden, as if in a dream. She was starting to develop a picture in her head . The seed of a plan for the restoration of the Garden was developing and growing. She got into her little car and drove out of the estate.
