Her Master's Kiss 4 (Erotic Romance)

by Sparx, Vivien

  Stefan’s bedroom door was closed. Tink flung it open without knocking and stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips, tiny as a pixie, but her expression thunderous.

  Stefan was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, staring blankly down at the pattern of the carpeting. There was a freshly-opened bottle of whisky on the bedside table, and an empty bottle on the ground. He was wearing the same clothes she had seen him in the day before. They were rumpled and creased.

  Stefan spun his head at the sound of the door crashing back and looked up dazedly. He stared at her with bleary eyes.

  Tink gasped in shock. Stefan looked deathly pale. The skin around his features had softened and blurred into ash-grey pouches that sagged beneath his eyes and hung loose from his jaw. The lines around his mouth were deeply etched, and new lines had carved themselves into the corners of his eyes and across his brow. His cheeks were dark with scruffy stubble, and his hair hung lank and tangled and unwashed.

  “What do you want?” Stefan asked thickly.

  Tink’s lips drew back into a thin angry growl. She stepped across the floor and swung her open palm as hard as she could, slapping Stefan’s face with such force that his head was jolted. The sound was like the crack of a whip in the tiny bedroom.

  “You bastard!” Tink seethed, staring down at him on the edge of the bed, her whole body trembling with her anger and adrenalin. “You selfish bastard!”

  Stefan stared up into her face, his expression still blank, but with the first signs of his anger showing flinty black in his eyes. “You don’t deserve a woman like Renee. You’re not good enough for her!” Tink drew back her hand again and lashed out, but Stefan’s own hand came up flashing, and he caught her wrist. Tink was still screaming at him, but now her emotions spilled over so that she was sobbing, her face wretched with her anguish. “You’ve given up, Stefan – and I can’t forgive you for that. You have given up on your marriage, you bastard. And I hate you!”

  “I hate me too!” Stefan roared suddenly, his voice snapping. He pushed himself to his feet, standing over Tink like a towering avalanche, and there was an ugly twist of rage in his expression. “I hate this pain, Tink. I hate the helplessness. I hate myself for what I’ve done to Renee, and what I should have done as a man!”

  “Then fight for her!” Tink shrieked, struggling wildly against his grip. “Show her that she’s worth fighting for!”

  “I don’t know how!” Stefan snarled. “I call every day and she hangs up. What else can I do?”

  “Go to her.”

  “She won’t see me.”

  “Then make her see that you want her.”

  “How, Tink? I don’t know how, dammit!”

  “Show her!” Tink cried out. “You’re sitting in this room, feeling sorry for yourself. Why Stefan? Tell me why?”

  She was like a wildcat, lashing out at him, her eyes huge in her face and her expression twisted by her heartache. Finally Stefan flung her down on the bed and stepped away. He bunched his fist and drove it like a hammer through the bedroom door.

  “Because I’m scared!” he whirled back to her and shouted. His chest was heaving, and his face was a dark grimace. “There! I said it! Is that what you wanted, Tink? Is that what you wanted to hear me say?” He punched at the door again, splintering the timber. “I’m scared if I do anything I will lose Renee forever!”

  “How can that be worse than this, Stefan? How can you sit here and do nothing?”

  “I’m giving her the time she wanted.”

  Tink shook her head angrily. “It’s not time Renee wants. It’s you, Stefan.”

  “I offered! I went to her…” he roared indignantly.

  “She needs to believe in you again. You’re the only one who can make that happen.”

  “I’ll lose her if I push, Tink. I’ll never get her back.”

  Tink flung herself off the bed. She was fearful, intimidated by Stefan’s flash of rage, but she got to her feet regardless, standing toe-to-toe with Stefan, like David against Goliath.

  “You’ve already lost her, Stefan! Don’t you see? You’re already losing her from your life. You’ve got to fight to get her back.”

  He shook his head abruptly. The rage went out of him in an instant. He stood there, his fists bunch, his chest heaving, his whole body trembling – but with the anger extinguished, as though it had never been.

  “No. I don’t know how. It’s hopeless…”

  Tink stared into his face for long seconds. She was crying – soft broken sounds of immense sadness that shook her shoulders.

  “Don’t you dare give up hope! Don’t you dare give up fighting to win Renee back, Stefan,” she said fervently. “Don’t you understand what that would mean?”

  Stefan stared blankly. Tink stabbed a finger at his chest. “It would mean there is no hope for any of us, Stefan. Not me and Master Peter, or anyone else in the world. You and Renee are perfect for each other – you’re meant to be together. If your love can’t triumph over this tragedy, that means there is no hope for love at all.”

  “I don’t know how to show her,” Stefan’s body slumped, lost all of its tension. His face became grim again.

  “At least try!”

  But he shook his head, slow and sorrowful.

  “Then fuck you,” Tink said coldly – and walked out the door.

  Twenty-Three.

  The following morning Tink was woken by the sounds of shuffling deeper within the house. She rose quietly, careful not to wake her Master, and went to the closed bedroom door to listen. She heard the back door swing quietly open. From behind the blinds of her bedroom window Tink watched the gaunt figure of Stefan step purposefully out into the morning light and disappear behind the rear of the farmstead. She dressed quickly in hacked-off denim shorts and t-shirt and followed him out through the back door, careful not to make a sound as she stepped lightly through the long dewy grass.

  She kept her eyes on the shape of Stefan’s broad shoulders as he went out past the small vegetable garden towards two timber buildings.

  The largest building was the barn: Master Peter’s storage shed where farm machinery was housed. Beside the building was another, smaller timber shed, where tools were maintained. Tink watched Stefan stride to the small shed and pull the door open. He stepped inside without looking back.

  She paused on the path for long moments, staring idly at the crops of fresh garden vegetables until she finally heard the sound of heavy rhythmic thumping coming from further up the hill. She started off quickly again, her brow furrowed in curiosity.

  Tink paused outside the shed’s door for a long moment and listened. The sound she heard was strangely muted. When she pulled open the door she was surprised to find the shed empty.

  On the opposite side of the building was another door, swinging ajar. Instead of stepping through the shed, she circled the building, coming around the other side to find Stefan standing beside a pile of timber. He was naked to the waist, wearing just faded blue jeans and leaning on the handle of an axe.

  He looked up at her, with the first beads of sweat glistening on his shoulders and chest. His arms were hard with sinewy muscle.

  “You’re not surprised to see me.”

  “No,” Stefan said simply. “I knew you were following me. I was hoping you would.”

  “Why?”

  She sat down on a huge block of timber, drawing her legs up to her chin and hugging her arms around her knees.

  “So I could talk to you – alone.”

  Tink was silent for a while. The morning was clear and bright. She watched Stefan pick up pieces of timber, turning them over in his hand to appraise them before discarding them, or occasionally adding them to the pile at his feet. After several minutes, he positioned one of the pieces of timber on a chopping block and raised the axe high over his shoulder. Tink saw the way the muscles in his arms bunched, and noticed the cage of his ribs drawn tight against the lean flesh of his abdomen. Stefan swung the axe with a
mighty swoosh, and the timber split and splintered neatly down the center. He set the axe down against the wall of the shed and folded his arms across his chest.

  “How did you get to be so tough?” Stefan asked suddenly.

  Tink was surprised by his question and the softness of his tone. She looked confused for a moment.

  “Yesterday – in the bedroom. I thought you were going to kill me,” Stefan added. There was a hint of a smile on his face.

  Tink smiled back self-consciously. “I’m sorry I swore at you.”

  Stefan grunted. “I’m sorry you had to.”

  He dropped down onto his haunches so their eyes were level. He reached out for her hand and now his expression was solemn. “I’m sorry, Tink. I was so deep in my misery and despair that I couldn’t see a way out. Thank you. I needed the kick in the guts you gave me. I really did.”

  Tink felt a sting of tears in her eyes, but they were happy, hopeful tears. She blinked them away and sniffed. “I was worried you would hate me.”

  Stefan shook his head. “You showed me how much you cared – about me and Renee. The fact that you were prepared to risk our friendship made me realize how passionate I need to be to win Renee back. I spent a long time thinking last night,” he admitted. “I realized I gave Renee all my love, but never all of my heart. Now I need to find out if everything I have will be enough. But, like you said, I have nothing left to lose now.”

  Tink squeezed his hand and felt the first glimmer of hope. “Do you have an idea? Do you know some way you can show Renee how much you want a future with her?”

  Stefan smiled – a slow warm smile that reached all the way to his eyes and made them sparkle.

  “Yes,” he said softly. “I think I’ve found a way.”

  Twenty-Four.

  For nearly two weeks the toolshed and the barn were declared off limits to Peter and Tink.

  Each morning Stefan would rise with the sun and stride up the gentle hill, only returning when it was too dark to work a moment longer. He ate ravenously and flung himself down on the bed, sleeping like the dead each night through the crush of his physical exhaustion.

  As the days passed, his body began to harden. The alcohol sweated away through his pores, and the sun burned his upper body dark. His face filled out again, the features of his face smoothing and sharpening around the lines of his jaw.

  There was comfort in the effort; a total absorption and dedication that worked as therapy, giving him time to come to terms with the terrible loss of baby Storm, but never so much time to dwell and sink back into the depths of his despair. Stefan labored with a passion he had never known before.

  On the last day, when the work was done, Stefan went down to the farmstead and borrowed Peter’s pickup. He draped heavy tarpaulins over the load, and tied it carefully.

  He looked down at his hands. They were blistered and gouged, like war wounds from a battle he had fought and won.

  Stefan smiled.

  He went into the cool shade of the farmstead, bare chested, with his body glistening with sweat.

  He was ready at last.

  Twenty-Five.

  Somehow when the phone began to ring, Renee knew it was Stefan. Her hand hovered over the receiver for long moments. He had not phoned for ten days, and though she and Tink chatted daily, Renee had never asked about Stefan.

  Now, with a sudden lurch that made her stomach clench, she realized how much she missed him. She snatched up the phone and said softly, “Hello.”

  “Renee. It’s Stefan.”

  There was long silence. Renee bit her lip, feeling a sudden surge of emotions. Anger and hurt still mingled, but no longer so strong. Older, more instinctive feelings added themselves to the mixture, simmering together so that she felt herself oscillating wildly at the mere sound of his voice.

  “How are you?” she asked softly.

  “I miss you.”

  Stefan’s words hung in the air. Renee missed him too – but the wounds were still too raw, the words too jagged to say. She gasped softly.

  “I love you Renee. I love you more than life itself. I want to show you how much you mean to me…”

  Renee felt her sadness welling up into her throat, choking the sound of her voice. She had not wept for days, she had kept it all hidden, bottled away – but now the first tearful sob burst from her. “You had that chance, Stefan.”

  “No!” he said quickly, and there was something urgent and passionate in his voice; a spark she had thought extinguished by his grief. “I’ve only ever had the chance to tell you, Renee. Now I’m coming to the house to show you.”

  Twenty-Six.

  The drive to the house was an hour-long torture of Stefan’s fears and doubts.

  He drove carefully, mindful of the precious load tied onto the back of the pickup, and as he drew ever closer to the estate, his anxiety grew until his hands trembled on the steering wheel like he was in the grips of a high fever.

  For many days he had rehearsed and replayed in his mind all of the events about to unfold, and whilst he chided himself that to do so was mere fantasy, his imagination had run riot with hopeful expectation.

  Now, the reality seemed much less romantic – much more perilous.

  He was risking everything, and whilst he told himself again and again that he had nothing more to lose, the truth was that he had never yet considered the possibility of life without Renee.

  Now all those fears and consequences were tumbling down on him, crushing down on his hopes and compounding his torment so that it was a relief to finally steer the pickup into the driveway and shut off the engine.

  Stefan sat in the cab of the vehicle for long moments. He could feel his heart racing. The roar of his blood pounding in his ears was like a relentless drum. He wiped his sweating hands on his jeans and stared at himself in the rear-vision mirror.

  “In a single moment, fate changed your life,” he whispered to his reflection. “Now you have a chance to change it back again.”

  He climbed out of the pickup and went around to the back of the vehicle. The knotted ropes came away quickly. He dragged the covering tarpaulins aside and folded them. Then he took the weight of the timber in his hands and carried it carefully to the front step. He set it down.

  It was sunset. Over Stefan’s shoulder, the sky was turning glorious shades of crimson and orange, melting the afternoon clouds with golden light, and blanketing the world in a hush of silent calm.

  Stefan took one last long breath – and knocked on the door.

  The door opened slowly and Renee stood, unsure and nervous before him.

  Stefan felt the surge of his emotions grip tight around his heart. Renee was dressed in a simple white blouse and grey skirt. The bruises had faded from her face, leaving her skin fresh and glowing, and he noticed the touch of color she had dabbed on her lips. Her hair had been cut. It hung down to her shoulders, falling in soft golden curls. He liked it.

  She smiled at him tentatively and there was a softness in her expression that encouraged him. He reached out for Renee’s hand, but she flinched.

  Renee bit her lip. The sunlight was behind Stefan so he appeared as a tall broad-shouldered silhouette, but she noticed the clearness in his eyes, and how he seemed infused with color and new vitality.

  “Stefan, I don’t…”

  “No.” Stefan said, cutting her off. “Please, before you say anything, please just hear me out.”

  She nodded – a little nervous movement of her head.

  Stefan took a deep breath – and then fixed his gaze on Renee’s face so that she could see his passion in every word.

  “I don’t believe you and I are a tragedy, Renee. I don’t believe this dreadful sadness should define us. We are a love story – a story of two people who love each other beyond all limits. What we have is not perfect – no love is – but it’s too precious to lose. It’s too precious to walk away from. I came here today to show you what love can do, and to show you my hope for our future.”
>
  He stood aside, and Renee suddenly saw the beautiful cradle he had set upon the step.

  It was the most exquisite piece of craftsmanship Renee had ever seen. She had admired photos of beautiful cribs in the baby magazines, each one like a work of art, but now those images had been made real. Her breath caught in her throat, and she was drawn out onto the porch, numbed with her disbelief.

  The cradle had been crafted from a dark wood, each piece selected by Stefan for its beautiful timber grain. The headboard of the cradle was carved with two kissing angels, the detail so exquisite that Renee could see the definition of each figure’s features. She reached out her hand, running her fingers over the frame.

  The crib swung gently from a wide timber base, the supporting arms also carved with a delicate pattern of vines and leaves that twisted in and around the contours of the timber.

  “I built this for us,” Stefan said softly. “I wanted to show you how much I love you, and how much I want to share my future with you. I can never apologize enough for betraying your faith – but if you give me the chance, I’ll dedicate the same love and care to our marriage as I poured into this crib, Renee. I built this to show you that I want our future to include another baby – if you’d like to try again.”

  Renee stared at him, open-mouthed, her eyes filling with tears.

  Stefan reached out his hand, and pressed his palm lightly against her chest. “You have my heart,” he said simply, his voice thick with emotion. “Now, I’m asking you to give me hope – hope for a future we can share together. Forever.”

  Renee sobbed, feeling the erratic flutter of her pulse under the touch of Stefan’s hand. Then suddenly she went willingly into his arms, wrapping her hands tight around his shoulders and pressing her face to his chest so she could feel the same racing beat of his own heart against her cheek.