He’s stripped, carefully folded his clothes, and opened the glass cantilevered doors before I even unzip the bag. I do sneak a peek at his muscled backside as he walks out into the tropical sun.
True to his word; he has packed three bathing suits: one blazing, red bikini, all straps and triangles; a white one-piece; and a demure tankini with a flower design. Curious, I pull out the rest of the clothes. A couple sundresses, shorts and t-shirts, flip-flops, a hat, two bottles of sunscreen, lace underwear, some toiletries—all my brands—and a fresh packet of my birth control pills. Crap, I’d forgotten about those still sitting on my bathroom vanity. That’s Mr. Blackwood, always prepared and two steps ahead.
I hear the splash of the water. I’m sure he’s impatient for me to join him. Do I dare go unclothed? He’s seen me naked before. I blush from head-to-toe when I think of him bending me over the sofa and spanking me.
I go to the full-length mirror and take in my appearance. My breasts make me look curvier than I truly am. I do have hips and thighs, though they’re toned from running and riding horses. I take off my Mangler shirt and unhook my three-for-ten-dollars bra. I don’t see the attraction Roy has for my body, nor do I see anything to be ashamed of. I slip out of my khaki shorts and panties. What difference will a few scraps of fabric make?
“They’ll give him something to look forward to.” I hear Aunt Stella’s voice in my head. “A man doesn’t want to see it all out there on display. He wants to uncover your secrets.”
He’s seen me naked. Yes, I counter, but I was impaired. I decide on the white one-piece.
Roy’s at the edge of the infinity pool with his back to the view, watching me walk out. From the smile on his face, I know I’ve made the right choice. “There’s a school of dolphins out there.” He wraps my back into his chest and points us toward the ocean. “Tomorrow, we’ll take the boat out. Sometimes they’ll come up.”
Under normal circumstances, I’d be awed by the view, but with his chest pressed firmly into my back and his arms encircling me, it just doesn’t seem that important. “So.” I giggle at the tickling sensation of him nibbling on my neck. “Your grandmother owns this. That’s a twist I wasn’t expecting.”
He chuckles and spreads his hand over my stomach. “My mother would do a Thomas Hardy novel proud.”
I clutch the secret Gavin shared with me and vow to do all I can to make his future a happy one. “You’ll buy it?”
“Do you like it?”
“What’s not to like?”
He slides down my body until our upper halves are even. I suspect he’s being respectful and keeping his erection from pressing against me, which isn’t what I want at all. I want it hard against me and in me and…
When I turn in his arms, the reflection of the sun and water make his eyes resemble perfect emeralds, inhuman and infinitely attractive. He dips down in the water while still holding me up, and kisses my belly before rising. With his hair slicked back and the tan he already has from whatever desert land he’s visited, it’s almost unbearable to look upon such beauty. I know this image of him will stay with me until I die.
“Let’s get some dinner.” Effortlessly, with his arm around my waist, he glides through the water and carries me up the stairs, planting my feet on the warm pool deck. Before I can ogle him, he wraps a towel around his waist and one around my shoulders. “You can have anything you want as long as it’s quesadillas.”
I dry off. “What’s so magical about quesadillas?”
“That’s all I know how to make, except for eggs.”
I twist the water from my hair. “I’m shocked. I thought you’d be a gourmet chef.”
“Nope, the basics. I’m a man who knows his limitations.”
As I follow him inside, I notice the cut on his shoulder is now a scar. It’s sobering to see the numerous old wounds marring his beautiful body.
“You know, I don’t need any of this. I mean, it’s nice, but all I want is you.”
He turns around so abruptly I bump into him. “You want more, do you?”
It’s a vague statement. More spankings, yes, I do. More of his hands and mouth on my body, most definitely. Not more talking though. I don’t want to hear what he has to say.
“If you’re going to keep up with me, you’ll need to eat.” He runs his finger over my lower lip. “I intend to put you to bed exhausted.”
“Can we talk…tomorrow?”
“No.” His tone is inflexible as stone as he drags me along inside.
“You’re so bossy.” I stomp my feet like a petulant child.
“It’s non-negotiable.”
“I hate when you say that.”
“Better you hate me now then hate me later.”
It’s disorienting the way he can slip between playful and serious so quickly. “I could never hate you.”
“With all my heart, I hope that’s true.”
“I’ve waited long enough.” I grouse, as he steps behind a gigantic kitchen island.
“Patience is a virtue, Miss Aldridge.”
“As is chastity, so what’s your point?”
“Such a smart mouth.” He pulls items from the industrial refrigerator. “I’m going to enjoy putting my cock in it.”
All the air leaves my lungs as his sexy voice does unholy things to my body. His smirk tells me he knows the exact effect he has on me.
“Sit, while I make dinner.”
He sees my hesitation. “The sooner we’re done here, the sooner I can carry you off to bed.”
I immediately sit. I’m so easy.
“Here.” He pulls a Coke out of the refrigerator and hands it to me.
I pop the tab on the can. “How was the mission?”
“You try to do more good than harm, but I doubt we made any difference.”
“Will you ever talk to me about your work?”
“When I can. When it’s appropriate.” While a tortilla warms, he dices cooked chicken into tiny chunks.
“Why were you in Middleburg five years ago? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? When I asked, you got all weird and said we needed to talk.”
“You do like quesadillas?”
“Yes,” I exhale.
“Eat this first.” He flips the tortilla filled with cheese and chicken onto a plate.
I open my mouth to argue, but his determined look halts me. “Half. I’ll eat half.”
“Always the negotiator, Miss Aldridge.”
“I’d like to be deflowered before midnight.”
His eyes sparkle like green diamonds. “Something magical about midnight? A pumpkin? Glass slippers?”
“No.” I grin. “I thought you’d be more…excited and not so much into talking…about…you know?”
“I do know.” His voice sounds like sex, or what I imagine sex would sound like if it could talk. “I’ve never made love to a woman before. I want to do this the right way.”
I need to work on my sultry glances. All I can manage is to twist my fingers in my lap and hold myself in place instead of launching my body into his. “Right…the Marquis de Sade probably had less sex than you.”
“Fucking is not the same as making love.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I mutter and take the offered plate. “Maybe I want to be fucked.” I know I don’t want him to treat me like something fragile.
“Not tonight.” He pours a glass of red wine and leans against the counter, waiting for me to finish.
I gulp down my food. “I’m done.” And hold my plate for him to see. “No more delays, Mr. Blackwood.”
He heaves in a deep breath, drinks the whole glass of wine, and immediately pours another healthy amount. “In the living room.”
Why do we need to move? It’s an open-concept home. One area is as good as another to tell me something I probably don’t want to hear. When he nods to the sofa, I sink into a million down feathers.
“Now.” He sips his wine. “What happened to you five years ago?”
“Is this
a trick question?”
“No, Daisy.”
Let’s see, five years ago I would have been in high school. I didn’t sleep last night, so I’m not as sharp as I should be, but still, it takes me an embarrassing minute or two to calculate I would have been sixteen. At sixteen I was a junior and…
“No.” I stand with the sudden realization of where he’s going with this conversation.
“Yes.” He places his glass on the coffee table. “What happened?”
“You know... Charlie and everything.”
“Sit, please.”
“I want to forget,” I whisper. “Please don’t make me talk about this tonight.”
“I know you do, baby.” Roy slips his hand into mine and pulls me to the sofa. “I should have told you sooner. That I was there, with you that night.”
“No.” I try to stand, but he still has a hold of my hand. “You’re lying. I would remember. I remember everything.” Do I? I don’t even know how I got home. And the dominoes fall into place. “I was right. That day in Jason’s trailer…you did know me.”
“Yes. And I thought you remembered me, too. It’s one of the reasons I took you to breakfast—so we could talk.”
I want to escape, to run, to do anything but talk about this, but I can’t because I’m so tired of my whole life being controlled by that one incident. I should have told the police, and my aunts, and Vincent, instead of hiding and pretending like it never happened. “Why wouldn’t I remember you?”
“I don’t know. Shock. Slight concussion. Maybe both.”
“And you were there because…”
“You know Mr. Stanwyck was an—”
I wrangle out of his grasp. “Was an initial investor. I know all that. Would you get to it?” I’m ready to crumble for fear of what he’ll say.
“I was there to keep tabs on his son.”
“Charlie?”
“Yes, to watch him and investigate any associates while he was home from being kicked out of school again.”
I stumble back and bump into the ottoman. “That’s not what you do.” Maybe it was back when he was a fixer.
“You’re right. It was a favor to a valued client who was worried about his child.”
Quick as my shaky legs will take me, I move to the patio outside. “Don’t, don’t you dare come any closer to me. You lied.”
“It was wrong not to tell you right away, but at first I thought you knew me. And then I realized you had no memory of it, maybe a mental block of some kind. When you told me you’re a virgin, I knew I had to explain before anything more happened between us.”
“That’s why you left that night.”
He takes a step closer to me.
“Stop,” I warn, seeing him tense to rush me. I take two more steps back.
“Please.” He kneels and places his hands behind his head. “You’re right on the pool edge.”
I scissor-step to the left, and stand behind a chaise. Unwanted tears flow.
“There you go, crazy girl, crying. You’ve always been a cliché.” Charlie joins the conversation. “Roy’s not going to let you go. He’s more of a killer than you are. You’re so fucked.”
“Hit me. Cut me. Do anything you want to me, but please, please, don’t cry.”
“I need to go home.” I close my eyes, willing myself to my woods, to my home.
“Hear me out.”
The panic in Roy’s voice causes me to open my eyes. He’s still on his knees. His beautiful eyes are wary. I’ve never seen Roy scared. He’s scared of me, of what I’ll do.
“He knows you’re a crazy bitch. The man might have a massive hard-on for you, but he’s not an idiot.” Charlie laughs. “He’s in love with you. Doesn’t matter. We don’t need him. Just you and me and a razor.”
What am I doing to him? To myself? My knees give out and hit the concrete hard, too numb right now to feel the pain.
“Daisy,” he cries out and rushes to my side. “I’ll do whatever you want, just please; don’t hurt yourself because of me.”
It takes an eternity to lift my hand to rest against his face. “Tell me the rest of it.”
He scoops me up and carries me back inside, placing me on the sofa. Then he backs away, grabbing the bottle of wine, and sits in the far chair on the other side of the coffee table. “Mr. Stanwyck hired me to watch over Charlie. Said his boy was selling drugs. I followed him for a few days and found nothing. Charlie was a lot of things, but drug dealer was not one of them. I don’t know why Mr. Stanwyck was scared for Charlie. Whatever the reason, it was bad enough that he was sending him out of the country to a school in Switzerland the morning after the dance.”
I remember Charlie talking about how he didn’t want to leave.
“The day of the dance, Mr. Stanwyck called. He thanked me and told me my services were no longer needed.”
“Charlie didn’t know you were watching him?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you go home? Why were you still following him?”
“I…” Roy drains the bottle and tosses it aside. “I saw you.” He keeps his head down like a sinner in prayer. “I was captivated by you. Hated the thought of him touching you.”
“Oh my god, you were attracted to me? At sixteen?”
“I know it was wrong. I would have never touched you, not at that age.”
“Because you’re not a monster,” I whisper.
“I am a monster, but never with you. You’ve got to believe me. I’m incapable of harming you.”
“You watched?” My hands turn to ice.
“I didn’t know what was happening inside the car. I thought you were making out, or whatever kids call it today. I swear I had no idea what he was doing.”
“When I hit him over the head…you were there, weren’t you?”
He barely nods, like he doesn’t want to interrupt my memories.
It’s like pushing through a dense fog and trying to decipher the shapes in front of me. “You punished him.”
“My emotions took over.” He rubs his hands on his thighs. “That never happens.”
I remember a large man coming out of the shadows and descending on Charlie. I backed away, fell, and… “I thought it was Charlie reaching out to me.”
“It was me.” He drops his head into his hands. “You ran. The more I chased you, the crazier…”
I wince at the word.
“Sorry, the more distraught you became. So I fell back and followed until you dropped, and carried you to my car.” He closes the distance between us and kneels in front of me. “I had you in the car outside your aunts’ home, debating my next step, when you awoke, got out of the car, and ran into the house. Do you remember any of it? I called out your name, but you never looked back.”
I shake my head. Maybe I am crazy. “And Charlie?”
Roy looks like he’s run a marathon. “What were you told about the accident?”
“He was drunk and lost control of the car.” My eyes widen. “Was it because you beat him?” I instantly wish I could take back my words. “I know you were only trying to protect me.”
Roy shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t the accident that killed him. He was found propped up against his car with his head in his lap. That’s why the police kept looking for answers.” He lightly touches my skinned knees.
“He was murdered?”
“Yes.”
“By whomever Mr. Stanwyck was afraid of.”
“Yes. I should have bundled you up and taken you to your aunts. I could have prevented all the suffering you’ve endured trying to keep this secret.”
Puzzle pieces fall into place. His need to protect me. The way I always felt safe around him. Somewhere in my subconscious, I remembered.
“Then why does Mr. Stanwyck hate me?” I search Roy’s eyes.
“He thinks you know more.” He takes my hand. “And he blames you because he can’t face that if he’d kept me on duty his son would be alive.”
“Poor Charl
ie.” Roy’s eyes have pain and torment lurking in their depths. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
He nods his head. “Have you seen a picture of Whitcomb and Bobby’s mother?”
“No. Is it the one with her wearing the ring?” The unwanted birthday gift I gave back to the Stanwyck family.
Roy’s expression hardens. “Haven’t you ever suspected you might be a Stanwyck?”
“No,” I exhale. “No way.” Charlie’s words replay in my head. Why are you so special? What did he know? “You think this Elizabetta, the woman with the ring, was my mother?”
“Could be.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“Proctor’s working on that. She rented a cottage from Mr. Barnes.”
“Stoke Castle.” I stand, needing distance to process everything. “And you’re buying a house in Middleburg.”
“I never stopped thinking about you. Wondering how you were. Needing to be worthy of you.”
“Worthy of me? I’m nobody.”
“You’re everything to me.”
“Roy,” I whisper and don’t fight when he pulls me into his chest, and I’m comforted by the steady beat of his heart. “I understand why you didn’t tell me.” Like Proctor said, maybe it’s best to let all this go. “I don’t want to waste any more time on the past. What’s important is we’ve found each other, and right now I want you to make love to me.”
He pulls me away from his chest to read my face. “You promised to get help.”
His body is riddled with scars from God knows who trying to kill him, and he’s worried about a few scratches? “You’re right, I did. It was…” In truth, I don’t want to speak with anyone about my issues. “I will. I just need time. Alright? No more talk of Charlie or Mr. Stanwyck or the rest while we’re here. Okay? And I don’t want you to treat me like I’m fragile. I’m so sick of being innocent. Promise me you’ll show me everything, tonight.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Everything. Quite ambitious.” Eyebrow cocked, he turns and goes to the kitchen. From the fridge, he grabs a bottle of champagne along with two glasses from an open cabinet. “Do you like champagne?” he asks.
“Sure,” I answer, not wanting to tell him the truth and delay this even further by going back for something else. “Trying to get me drunk?” Butterflies spread their wings inside my stomach as I follow him into the bedroom.
Secrets In Our Scars Page 26
