by Ellen March
Eventually she’d had enough and lay alongside the stream, relaxing in the hot sun that seared her skin. The soft bubbling sound of the water trickling over the rocks and stones was almost hypnotic. Her eyelids felt heavy and with a brief glance at the stallion contentedly grazing beside her, felt herself drifting to sleep.
* * *
Paul raised his head at the purr of an engine. Guessing it was Roman, he left his greenhouse and wandered down to meet him. He was more than ready for an ice cold drink.
“Where’s Sally?” asked Marilyn as he helped himself to a cold juice.
“She went up to have a look at the mares.” He took a refreshing gulp and glanced at the time. “Is that clock fast?”
“No. Why?” Marilyn didn’t bother to look up from the dishes she was washing.
“Because she’s been gone for a while, that’s all. I just hope she hasn’t got into any trouble,” Paul said worriedly. Three hours was a hell of a long time to look at some horses.
“Don’t tell me,” interrupted Roman, walking in on the tail end of the conversation. “Sally.” He pulled his tie off and tugged at the buttons of his shirt. “Christ, it’s been a hot one today.”
Pulling a can out of the fridge, he yanked at the ring pull and drank, then turned to Paul. “So?” His tone demanded an answer.
“She went to look at the mares, and I haven’t seen her since. I think I’d better go and look for her.” He shuffled his feet nervously, knowing how volatile Roman could be.
“How long ago did she leave?”
“Not too long,” hedged Paul.
“How long?”
“Um, about three hours ago.” Paul flushed in shame.
“Oh shit, you know she’s not safe on her own, and you let her go charging up the mountain?” he shouted, slamming his drink down. “For your sake, those mares had better be in one piece. Give me five minutes to get changed and we’ll go and check.”
Marilyn stared at his retreating back. “Take it he doesn’t like our Sal,” she said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.
“Seems that way, doesn’t it?” Paul said with a grin. “But I think he’s protesting a bit too much.”
* * *
Roman walked alongside Paul, wearing only a pair of body-hugging jeans that sat low on his hips. He was too warm to wear a T-shirt. “Come on, let’s go up to the top field first.” His muscles bunched in the play of light dancing over his bronzed skin, and Paul admired him with envy, wishing for the hundredth time he was available. He knew Roman was aware of his rampant thoughts. And consigned them to the bin, because that’s as far as they’d be going. He knew they were friends, nothing more, and Paul wouldn’t step over the fine line. He thought too much of Roman to cause an embarrassing situation for the both of them. He had long ago faced facts: he was gay and Roman was a womaniser. And nothing would change that.
The mares stood beneath the cover of the trees, spots of sunlight dappling their glossy coats. They raised their heads curiously, tails swishing against the onslaught of flies that circled, but they didn’t make the effort to move out of the shade.
Roman leaned on the gate and cupped his hands to his mouth. “Sally!” His voice echoed around the field. The only feedback came from birds squawking overhead, leisurely flapping their wings along a current of warm air.
“Well, she’s not here.” Suddenly a thought came to him. “I just hope she’s not stupid enough to go into the field with Facet.”
“No, don’t see why she would. I told her not to.” He ignored Roman’s scathing glare. “And anyway, it’s the mares she wanted to see. I mean, actually, I gave her the idea ….”
Roman felt sick to his stomach, aware that if she’d gone in the field with that unpredictable animal anything could have happened. “Come on, let’s go and check.”
Standing outside the huge field, which covered a large expanse of moor land, he searched for any sign of her. It was empty and that included the stallion.
“Are you coming?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Easily leaping over the five bar gate, his foot hit something hard and he stooped down to pick up the mobile. “Damn, is that woman stupid or what?” he shouted, a squall of fury rushing through him. “Here, catch.” He threw it to Paul, who remained on the other side of the gate. “Well, what are you doing?”
Paul shook his head. Suicide by horse didn’t figure into his plans. “I’ll wait here. Shout when you find her.” His words hovered in the air. Roman was already striding away.
Reaching the top of the slope, he stared down to the stream that ran through the valley. His heart stopped and his breath hitched. From this distance it looked like a body lay on the ground, partially obscured by the stallion. Roman thundered down the grassy bank towards them, skidding to a halt when Facet suddenly took off.
He stared in shock at Sally, sleeping peacefully.
Her long blonde hair spun out around her. One arm lay across her bare midriff, the other flung out in the grass. His gaze dropped, following the contour of her shapely legs, taking in the thin scrap of transparent lace. He felt a surge of a raw hunger at the sight of the vee at the apex of her thighs.
Breathing deeply, he feasted his eyes on her and felt a familiar stirring in his groin. He wondered how the hell, or even why, she kept herself covered. He wished she’d take off those hideous glasses that she wore even now because he was curious about the colour of her eyes. He’d had only a brief glimpse of them that night by the pool.
Restlessly, she stirred and Roman tried to think how he could wake her without her discovering he’d seen her half naked. Again. His eyes returned to her breasts, and remembering how they’d spilled over in his arms at the pool, he felt an irrational need to touch and fondle them. Raising a trembling hand, he let out a shaky sigh and turned, then walked towards Facet, who was watching them with large, limpid eyes. Taking him by his headstall, he led the stallion away. He hadn’t hurt her, but he wasn’t taking any chances, especially not now.
Getting past those clothes of hers was like deep mining. He’d just hit the jackpot, but he really didn’t know what he was going to do about it.
As he returned to the top of the grassy knoll, he gave her one last look before disappearing over the ridge. Then he shouted her name.
* * *
Sally groaned. A voice was calling her name over and over. She struggled to open her eyes. Rubbing them, she looked about her, trying to work out where she was. Then she realized that the voice belonged to Roman.
Not wanting to be caught out again, she grabbed at her clothes and yanked them on. Despite shaking hands, she quickly and expertly tied her hair back up. Finally she pushed her glasses up her nose and ran towards the sound of the yelling. “Okay, I’m coming!”
* * *
“About bloody time.” Roman muttered, thinking to himself she could sleep through anything. That thought stayed with him. Not quite, he decided; she wouldn’t sleep if she were in bed beneath him.
“Did you find her?” asked Paul. He leaned on the fence, watching as Roman walked towards him, leading Facet.
“Oh, I found her all right. She’s on her way back now.” He jutted his chin in the direction of Sally, in the distance, ambling down the hill. Pushing the gate open, he led the stallion through. “You wait here for her. I’ll see you back at the house.” He was feeling a strange aversion to seeing her covered up again in those unsightly clothes.
“What happened to you?” Paul asked in disbelief as he took in her red face and the way she walked. ‘Hobbled’ better described it.
“I fell asleep in the sun,” moaned Sally. Her body felt as if it was covered in parchment instead of skin. Each painful step burned in agony.
“I was worried something had happened to you.” Paul was a bit annoyed with her.
She limped alongside him. “Well it has. I’m burned to within an inch of my life.”
“But how?” He glanced down at the garb she wore. She had so much cover he didn’t think any rays c
ould get to her.
“I stripped off, and don’t say a word,” she ordered. Sally was dreading taking off her glasses because she probably resembled a giant panda.
“Where was Roman?” he asked casually, keeping his focus straight ahead.
“Don’t know. I just heard him shouting; that’s what woke me up or I’d still be there,” she admitted. She concentrated on walking carefully towards the kitchen, lured by a mouth-watering aroma that filtered through the air.
“Really?” Paul grinned. He knew Roman too well and wondered why he’d kept that snippet of news to himself. Considering how short a time Sally had been at the house, Roman certainly seemed to be seeing a lot of her.
Marilyn stared at her as she limped inside. “What on earth have you been doing, child? You’re burnt to a frazzle.”
“I know.” Sally groaned and hitched her hip, slowly lowering her body onto the nearby stool.
“I’ve got some after sun cream here somewhere.” Marilyn rummaged in the cupboard then handed it to her. “Put that on. Should ease it a bit.”
Sally winced as she stood and took the cream, grimacing at each agonizing step.
“How are you going to get up those stairs?” asked Paul. “Much as I’d like to help, I can’t carry you.”
Roman walked into the kitchen and Sally’s eyes devoured his muscled chest, noting the sprinkle of dark hair covering it. A feathery line dropped down past his naval, disappearing beneath the pale jeans hugging his hips. She was so glad she was wearing her dark glasses, which allowed her to feast her eyes on him unobserved.
“What have you done now?” he asked bluntly.
“Got herself sunburnt,” Paul replied. “Seems she stripped off and fell asleep.” Paul grinned knowingly at Roman and noticed the slight tic at the side of his cheek. “She needs a hand to get up the stairs.”
Cringing at the thought of Roman helping her, she shook her head furiously. “No, its fine, I can manage.” She limped painfully through the kitchen. Suddenly she felt herself swept into a pair of steely arms, yelping as her arm hit his chest.
“Put it round my neck,” he ordered gruffly. Roman couldn’t watch her struggle anymore and he carried her easily up the stairs. At the feel of her in his arms, he could sense his body reacting to hers, already getting aroused. His cock had moved into overdrive.
Sally shyly did as he asked, luxuriating in the sensations caused by his skin rubbing against hers, despite the extreme sensitivity of her burnt limbs. She breathed in the scent of his masculinity, felt his warm breath against her hair. She wished the stairs could go on forever, but too soon she was deposited in her bedroom.
“I’ll ask Marilyn to fetch your food up. I think it’s best if you spend the night in bed.” His words betrayed his thoughts and he wished he had more control over his rampant dick. Spinning abruptly, before she could see anything, he closed the door behind him.
* * *
“How is she?” asked Paul conversationally. He was sitting comfortably on the patio, a large umbrella shading him.
“I told her to stay in bed.” Slouching into the nearby seat, he swigged out of a cold glass of beer.
“Whose?”
“What do you mean? Hers, of course.” Roman stared at him in amazement. “I’ve told you she’s not my type, and Angie is coming over tonight.” A wicked grin spread across his face at the thought.
Paul sipped from his glass of wine and gazed thoughtfully over the rim. “You saw her, didn’t you?”
“Yep,” said Roman without any hesitation. “Don’t know why she keeps that body covered. And her hair, I’ve never seen anything like it. It was like molten gold.”
Paul raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What? She had it down?”
Roman didn’t answer, yet his expression said it all.
Paul casually dropped his bombshell. “You know she’s a virgin?”
“No way. Didn’t think any existed these days.” Roman laughed in disbelief. “And you fell for it?” He shook his head at his friend’s naiveté.
No woman with a body like that could possibly have retained her virginity into her twenties. Hell, these days even the ugliest woman could give it away. Plus it was 2014, for Christ’s sake. Women were liberated, didn’t want to hold onto purity. In fact most got rid of it by the time they’d come out of high school.
Chapter Eight
Sally lay on top of her bed. Marilyn had fetched up her food and she’d gulped it down hungrily. Then, uncovering her body, which now radiated more heat than the sun, she drifted into a restless sleep.
Until the noise disturbed her. She heard the unmistakeable sound of Roman making love. Squeezing her eyes firmly closed, she pulled the pillow over her head and cursed him. Christ, doesn’t he ever stop?
* * *
She woke suddenly to a commotion outside and wondered what was happening. Then she remembered the party planned for the evening and rose stiffly from the bed. She blinked and checked the time, finding the hands pointing almost to midday. She’d slept around the clock. Sally was relieved to find the stinging burn had gone, but her skin still felt tight and itchy.
Feeling hot and sticky, she experimentally sniffed under her arms and wrinkled her nose in disgust. She unbound her hair and decided to have a shower to freshen up. Grabbing a towel from the stash in the nearby cupboard, she wrapped it around her body. When she realized it was too small—it stopped at the top of her legs and didn’t even cover her backside—she simply shrugged her shoulders. She would move quickly, and no one would see her.
She peeped out the door. Her long hair swept downwards when Roman’s door suddenly opened, and she slammed hers shut.
Head down, he was pushing his shirt into his jeans when he noticed a skein of blond hair trailing from the door opposite. He wondered what the hell she was up to now.
Sally heard the knock on her door and closed her eyes, wishing he’d just go away. But again it came, the tapping—louder and more insistent. He wasn’t going away.
She silently cursed the length of her hair, swearing she was going to cut it. She’d only let it grow so long to save on the hairdressers, and she was afraid to cut it herself, knowing her penchant for disaster even when sharp objects such as scissors weren’t involved. She kept it pinned up because it annoyed the hell out of her. Yet, she admitted to mixed feelings when it came to her hair. A part of her loved it; the other was irritated that it constantly got it the way.
Cautiously, she pulled the door open and found herself drowning in Roman’s smoky eyes.
“What are you doing?” His harsh words contrasted sharply with the expression in his smouldering eyes. His gaze devoured her. He homed in on her long, shapely legs and the tiny towel.
“Well, isn’t it obvious?” She threw her head back and rose to her full height. If he wanted to act like an idiot she’d treat him like one. Stepping from her room, she closed the door behind her. “I’m going shopping.” She casually strolled barefoot, the towel hardly covering her body, into the adjacent bathroom.
Roman stared after her, unable to drag his gaze away from the cheeks of her ass that peeped out tantalisingly from beneath the towel. His lips moved, but words failed him. He didn’t know what he was going to do about her, but something was seriously wrong with him. He didn’t like the emotions she was stirring at all. Roman realized his interest in Sally surpassed lust. Something else drew him to her, yet he didn’t know what. All he knew was that it scared him.
* * *
Sally wandered downstairs, feeling refreshed. She stared around curiously at the hive of activity and wondered just how big this party was going to be, considering the preparations taking place. Thankfully, when she headed for the sanctuary of the kitchen, Roman was nowhere to be seen. She found Paul and Marilyn seated at the breakfast bar deep in conversation.
“Morning.”
Both heads turned.
“Glad to see you’re looking better this morning.” Marilyn munched on a huge slice of pasty, un
mindful of the golden crumbs flaking onto her plate.
“I feel it.” Sally helped herself to a coffee and took a sip. Shuddering at its bitterness, she added an extra spoonful of sugar.
“You haven’t done anything to upset Roman again, have you?” Paul narrowed his eyes. “He came downstairs in one hell of a mood.”
“Hey, don’t go blaming me. It wasn’t my fault.” She clamped her mouth shut, realizing she’d almost told him what happened.
“What’s not?” Paul asked. Since her arrival Roman had been acting totally out of character. She was rattling him big style.
“Oy, mister! Where are these to go?” shouted a burly man carrying poles.
Sally was relieved by the timely interruption.
Paul glared at the man and glanced back at Sally. Something was definitely up between those two. He could feel it in his bones. Before answering the man, Paul took a moment to appreciate his large biceps.
“How many people are coming to this party?” Sally asked as she nibbled on a biscuit. She licked at the chocolate then dunked it in her coffee, cursing when it fell in and carefully spooning out the soggy mess.
“Usually about a hundred or so,” said Marilyn, dabbing at the crumbs on her plate and grinning at the way Sally ate a biscuit.
“How many?” shrieked Sally. “But why, what’s the occasion?” She forgot the soggy mess and it fell back into her mug, the black coffee splattering on the tiled breakfast bar.
“Oh, with Roman there doesn’t have to be an occasion. Think it’s more of an excuse to get together.” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Wait till you see some of the women. Talk about making it obvious … they’re blooming sex-starved strumpets.” She gave a snort of disgust. “I just wish he’d settle down and find himself a nice woman.” Marilyn considered Sally, whose head was bent as she concentrated on fishing for the biscuit, and shook her head, trying not to laugh.
“I don’t have to go, do I?” Sally was suddenly fearful. She hated crowds.