You gaze lower and take in the length of his cock. He gleams slick in the water from the shower, and you reach to take him into your hand as he moves the loofah lower, running it smoothly up each thigh then finding the most sensitive spot between your legs and rubbing the slightly abrasive sponge gently there. As he works, you discover the benefit of the sheath of his foreskin, using it to bring him to the point of pleasure. When neither of you can wait another moment, Colm turns off the water and wraps you in a soft towel, drying every inch of you and stopping to kiss you every few seconds as he does. He guides you to the bed and, kissing you hungrily, uses his fingers to bring you back to the edge of desire. When he is sure you are ready, he shifts his body to pause above yours for a moment and looks down between you. For a moment you’re sure he will pull away, but instead he thrusts to fill you with every inch of him. As you climax together, waves of pleasure crash over and over you and you melt completely into this man you have loved from the first moment you met. Later, he holds you close under the soft, warm covers of your bed, and everything feels right again.
“There’s so much to tell you . . .” you begin as you lay in his arms. But he silences you with a gentle kiss and holds you tightly to him.
“Just rest now, Anna. I’m not going anywhere. And we have all the time in the world.”
THE END
To take Anna on a new Bedventure, go back and choose a new path.
From page 129 . . .
You feel the anxiety that has become such part of your existence in this place begin to drain away as you make the decision to leave the island. Slowly, you extend your hand and allow Colm to take it. Firmly but gently, he walks you to the waiting taxi. You look back only once before closing the door, whispering one last goodbye to Buffy.
Your re-entry into the world of LA is bumpier than you expected. Tabloids and paparazzi hound you relentlessly, trying to flush out the details of your hiatus. “Anna!” they shout. “How was rehab?” Rumors of plastic surgery, engagement, and even a hidden wedding swirl. The only piece of information the tabloids get right is that your agent dropped you unceremoniously upon your return. There are many moments you consider booking the next flight back to your island hideaway.
But then you come home to Colm, who wraps his arms tightly around you and tilts your face up to his, declaring you a “wee, bonny lass,” an expression which never fails to bring a smile to your lips and warmth to your heart. At least Colm has some control over what is printed in WE, and your flattering coverage in that popular magazine seems to kill some of the rumors and improve your public image. Offers from reality show talent scouts come pouring in and then finally a slow trickle of scripts begins to follow.
Colm is careful to take his time with you and is the consummate gentleman in every aspect of your relationship. You take long hikes together every evening, enjoying the simple intimacy of holding hands, and each night you lie in the cocoon of Colm’s embrace, feeling safer and more complete than you ever imagined you could. When you wake in the morning, you feel a surge of grateful joy to find him beside you, and turn to him and take his face between your hands, the delicious roughness of his cheeks slightly abrading your palms.
Colm’s presence beside you is a healing salve. Although you continue making regular calls to the island authorities, you find you have much less control at this distance and get far briefer responses. Eventually your calls and inquiries become fewer and farther between.
One morning, as you sit on the little balcony, finishing your coffee, the doorbell rings. Colm answers and slides open the screen door with a serious expression on his face. “It’s Rose,” he whispers. He reads the look of concern and confusion on your face and shrugs his shoulders.
You slide past him and greet Rose, who is standing in the entryway, fingers tugging nervously at her beaded necklace. Gathering her into a hug, you notice how thin and frail she feels. She looks like she hasn’t slept in days. Your heart drops. You don’t even want to imagine what she is here to say.
“Do you have a minute to talk?” she asks.
“Of course,” you tell her. You’d do anything for this woman. You lead her into the living room and sit beside her on the sofa. Colm leans in, pokes his head around the wall, and excuses himself politely. “I’m just off on a quick errand. Can I bring you something to drink, either of you?”
“No, thank you, dear,” Rose tells him,
“I’m good, thanks,” you reply, your voice a little strangled. He gives you a small grin of encouragement before he leaves.
“Anna,” Rose begins, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. It’s been almost a year.”
“I know,” you tell her, feeling the old emotions wash over you, bringing a sudden spring of tears to your eyes.
“Which means almost two since you last saw her,” Rose pauses for a moment before continuing. “I know how much you love her, Anna, and I know how hard this has been on all of us.” She takes a breath then bravely soldiers on, “Anna, I need to tell you something. I can’t go on . . .” Her voice breaks and she takes a moment to compose herself. “I need to tell you the truth.”
You say nothing, giving Rose the time she needs. She breathes out a slow, controlled breath and meets your eyes.
“Anna, please believe me when I tell you this—I didn’t know either, not until right before I left, and then I had to protect her. Please try to understand.”
“Rose, what are you saying?”
“I’m sorry, Anna, I’m trying to explain—it’s just . . . She doesn’t know I’m here and I don’t know how much to say. But I feel like I need to tell you everything. It’s not fair, what we’ve put you through.”
Suddenly your head is spinning, your heart racing. Did you really hear what you think you heard? You know it can’t be right, but still, you want so much to believe it, to hold onto those words. She doesn’t know I’m here. You control your breathing and do your best to hide the shock you feel. You want Rose to continue. You squeeze your trembling hands together then take Rose’s hands in yours. “Go on,” you tell her.
“That day I came to you, on the island. It was only the night before that the call came in. She sounded so panicked, Anna, I could barely follow what she was saying. She begged me, made me promise I wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone. She was so afraid of what he might do. She wouldn’t even tell me where she was at first. She’d just lost trust in everything, everyone. But she needed me, Anna. So I had to leave, to go to her. And I couldn’t tell you, I just couldn’t. I’m so sorry, Anna. It’s eaten at me every day since I left you. The one solace I had was that I’d already arranged for Colm to come—please believe me when I tell you this—I had planned that long before I ever knew, and you were beginning to lose yourself in that search. When she called, and I knew she was safe, and I knew Colm was coming to help lift you out of that awful place, it just seemed like things were finally righting themselves, like our prayers were being answered. It all happened so quickly.”
She pauses for a moment, then continues, “She’s all I have in the world, Anna. And then when she told me the truth—what she had been through, and that she was expecting, I had no choice but to protect her. She wanted so much to keep the baby, Anna, and she was convinced he would come after her. We just couldn’t risk anyone knowing.”
A dizzying mix of emotions begins to emerge as Rose finally speaks the words you have been waiting for so long to hear. “But she’s alive, Anna. It’s time you know. She’s alive.”
You laugh giddily and let the pointless sense of betrayal fall away as tears of joy and relief wash down your cheeks. “She’s alive! Oh my God, I thought you were here to tell me—it doesn’t matter what I thought!” You grab Rose by the shoulders and embrace her again. “Where is she? I have to see her.”
“It’s not that simple,” Rose says, straightening up and moving slightly away from you on the sofa. “She would be furious if she knew I was here, Anna. She has a lot more at stake now than just her own safety.
There’s the baby to think about, too.”
“Is she here in LA? Is she okay? Is the baby a boy or a girl? How old is he—or she? Please, I want to know everything.”
“I know you do, Anna, and the time will come. But for now, just know that Buffy is safe. I’m going to work on her. It’s changed her, what she’s been through, and she’s just beginning to feel safe again. I can’t take that from her. But I also couldn’t let you grieve any longer.”
You know you have no choice but to accept this small gift you’ve been given, however incomplete it feels. “Thank you, Rose. Thank you for telling me. Even if I never get to see her again, at least I know she’s safe. And that’s so much more than I was expecting. But I hope she’ll forgive me. I hope she knows how much I miss her.”
Visibly relieved, Rose rises and takes your hands again. “Thank you, Anna, for understanding. I was hoping you would. I knew you would. You are a wonderful friend and a beautiful person. I’m going to work on her, I promise.”
With that, Rose picks up her purse and walks out the door. You feel as though the weight of the world has been lifted from your shoulders. At the same time, you feel incredibly exhausted. You curl up on the sofa, unsure whether to laugh or cry, so you do both as you wait for Colm to return.
He does moments later, and you realize he must have been just outside waiting for Rose to leave. He takes one look at your face and gathers you into an enormous hug. “I’m so sorry, Anna,” he says.
You look up at him with what must look like an insane smile. “She’s alive, Colm. I don’t know whether I’ll ever see her again, but she’s alive!”
His baffled “Mmmph?” followed by “Well then, that’s brilliant!” has you laughing hysterically.
“I know, it is brilliant!” you agree, and you settle beside him on the sofa to tell him the little bit you know. The next few weeks seem endless as you wait for word you know may never come from Rose. Your emotions swing wildly and you find yourself bursting into tears at odd moments. Colm is there through it all, supporting you when you need it and giving you space when you don’t.
“You’re in a bit of shock, Anna. It’s to be expected with news like this.” He is truly the perfect match for you, calming you when you need it most. You realize how lucky you are.
You do your best to distract yourself with work. A handful of offers present themselves—commercials, scripts for TV movies or trite sitcoms, even an artsy indie film. You read carefully through everything that comes your way, but nothing seems right. At last, a script arrives that looks promising. It’s a pilot for a sitcom about an aspiring actress living with a male roommate and his young son. It’s witty, sarcastic, and right up your alley. You read a little to Colm, who laughs in all the right places.
“This could be something,” he says with a glint in his eye.
“It is intriguing,” you agree, “but what if it gets picked up? We’d be committed to living in New York for who knows how long.”
“One step at a time,” Colm tells you. “Step one, sounds like you need a good agent.”
“Hmmm . . . I do. An agent and a manager.” Your eyes meet his and you can see the idea already fully formed. “You’d want to do that?”
“Might as well get paid for it,” he laughs, ducking the pillow you throw at his head.
Colm begins spending less and less time at WE and more and more time reaching out to the many contacts he’s built up over his years working as a Hollywood journalist. He arranges for flattering photos to signal your impending comeback to be printed in only a few of the top national entertainment magazines.
He comes into the kitchen one morning as you’re rinsing the last sip of coffee from your morning mug. “Guess what?” he asks, looking every bit the cat that ate the canary. “The phone’s started ringin’.”
You look up at him quizzically. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” he tells you, drawing you into his arms in a huge bear hug, “that people are startin’ to call lookin’ for ye—’stead of the other way round.”
You laugh at the sudden increase in his brogue, always heightened when his mood is, too.
“In fact, I’m here to tell ye I’ve two, count ’em, two, film scripts on the way right now. You may just have your pick of a project.”
You’re so excited you can hardly stand it, and you jump up and down like a little girl. The thought of a TV series is exciting but film is where your heart is. “Thank you, thank you!” you squeal, kissing Colm on his scruffy cheek.
As promised, two scripts arrive by courier within a day. Both are fun and full of promise. Then, two days later, a third script arrives. It’s about an actress trying to come back after some hard knocks. It’s as if it was written for you and the mix of hilarious bits with touching undertones pulls at your heart. You read it in one sitting.
Your heart skips with excitement as you march into Colm’s office. “This is it,” you tell him. “I have a really good feeling about this one.”
“Brilliant,” he says, with warmth in his eyes. “It’s yours then.” He picks up the phone to set the wheels into motion.
Day one of shooting feels like falling back into the rhythm of a dance you know in your soul. The chemistry of the cast is electric and you love every moment. You are thrilled and relieved when the critics do, too.
Everything is falling into place, and you know you wouldn’t have any of it without Colm by your side.
Your first hiatus, you surprise him with a trip back to Scotland to visit his family. You’ve arranged for a hotel near his childhood village, not wanting to step on anyone’s toes, and a little nervous at the thought of meeting his family. Still, you know it is time.
* * *
Colm beams as you walk arm in arm down the long airport terminal corridor. You can feel him physically relax as he enters his homeland. You pass a newsstand and spot a glossy tabloid with an inevitable Anna Chambliss headline: ANNA CHAMBLISS FINDS HER KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR! IS AN ENGAGEMENT IN THE WORKS? WE HAS THE ANSWERS!
Colm squeezes your hand as you pass by. “The media—they never do give up, do they?” He laughs ironically.
In the taxi to the hotel, Colm takes your hand. “You’re freezing!” you tell him, pulling your hand back and tucking it between the layers of your thick wool scarf.
“I’m nervous, Anna.” He pauses before continuing, “There’s something I haven’t quite told you.”
A pit of dread forms in your stomach as you wait to hear what is coming next.
“It’s just”—Colm is tongue-tied again and clears his throat before he goes on—“it’s just I haven’t quite told you exactly everything about my growin’ up. I was thinking it’d be better if I show you.”
He gives the taxi driver what might be an address but sounds more like a name. You can’t tell completely because the two have fallen into an almost indecipherable brogue.
“Mmph” is the driver’s only response, as he takes a sharp turn onto a tiny, winding, graveled roadway.
Colm’s hand clamps more tightly to yours as you ride up the bumpy drive. A canopy of majestic, emerald trees with knobby, ancient-looking trunks gives way to more manicured shrubs on either side of an ornamental iron gate. You cross through the gate and into a circle with an age-worn, non-functional fountain in its center. Beyond the circle sits another pair of overgrown ornamental shrubs, and beyond that, the most magnificently dilapidated stone castle you’ve ever seen.
“We won’t be more’n a few moments,” Colm tells the driver.
The loose stone drive leads to a wide, chipped, and worn stairway. You can see the path centuries of footsteps have left on each stone tread, concave and darkened toward their centers. You look at Colm inquisitively, trying to gauge what is going on. He tucks your hand firmly into the crook of his arm and guides you up the enormous stairway.
Before he opens the door, he turns you to face him. “Anna,” he begins nervously, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all this before. It’s a
lot to swallow. I know that. I’m just asking you to keep an open mind.”
The massive entry door yawns open with an enormous creak as Colm leads you into a dimly lit but breathtaking grand hallway. The soaring ceilings are lost in shadows and the light slants in toward the floor at odd angles through dust-covered windows. There’s stone as far as the eye can see, worn smooth with age and dotted with ancient rugs, themselves worn threadbare in places, and pieces of what must be furniture covered with heavy, dust-laden tarps. It looks haunted, bewildering, and altogether magnificent.
“What?” you begin, your eyes adjusting to the dim light.
Your voice echoes wildly through the empty rooms as you reach out to touch the cool, grey stone of the walls.
Colm turns to face you again, sweeping his eyes around the huge hall. “It’s ours, Anna, if you want it.”
“What? How?” is all you can manage.
“I’ll explain everything to you, I promise. It’s a lot to care for, I know. It’s been more’n my family could do for the past hundred years, as you can see. But I think we could make something of it. Anna, what do you say?”
“What do I say?” you stammer. “I don’t even understand what is going on right now.”
“The castle’s been in the family for centuries, Anna. But it takes a load of work—a whole staff to keep it running, in fact. It’s not something my family were able to do. I was telling you the truth about my growin’ up. That part, anyway. This was never home to us. But I’ve always dreamt that someday I could come back here and bring her back to how she used to be. She could be glorious, Anna.”
And in his eyes you see his vision. For a moment, you picture the windows hung with rich draperies, the cold, stone hall warmed with firelight, the floors covered with fine rugs, and the furniture uncovered, gleaming and resplendent, its wood reflecting the glowing flames.
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