Mountain Made Baby

by Aria Ford

  She made an embarrassed gesture with her hands, taking in the tatty bathrobe, the wet hair, the lack of makeup of any kind. “If you want to discuss our contract, perhaps I should…dress?” she gave a weak laugh and inclined her head sideways.

  “Oh, um, yes. Fine. Of course,” I said distractedly. Emma glanced sideways at him.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I was distracted. By, um…the view. Out of the window. Isn’t it nice?” He gestured to the window that looked out over the pool. Lit with floodlights, the water blueish and inviting, it actually was nice. It was only after she frowned at me that I realized how stupid what I had said was. I hadn’t been facing the window when talking to her.

  “I’ll get decent,” Emma said decidedly, then ducked inside.

  I stood there with my teeth clenched while I thought about Emma dressing in the room beyond the firmly closed door. I thought about what her breasts must look like—full, but well shaped. I imagined her nipples to be reddish, her body gently curved and her skin pale under the harsh lights. I felt my dick harden and I wished she would come out of there. She had to put me out of my torture!

  “I guess we should meet in my office, yes?” I said when she came out a few minutes afterward.

  “Okay,” Emma agreed with a little frown.

  A tingle spread up from my groin through my whole body. I was already aroused, and everything about her aroused me more. Something about the sway of her walk was so alluring that I wanted to reach out and draw her toward me. I sighed.

  Come on. You can’t very well take her down there and seduce her.

  I walked along the silent hallway, feet sinking into the satiny carpet. She followed. We reached the office.

  “Here we are,” I said, seeming suddenly hesitant. “My private abode.”

  Emma bit her lip. I wondered what she was thinking. She seemed nervous somehow. I sighed. I wished that I could do something to relieve her nervousness, but, then, I myself didn’t exactly feel confident, what with her so close and in my private space. I shouldn’t have taken her here…I should have spoken somewhere more neutral. But I had. I couldn’t very well change my mind now, not without looking really weird.

  We faced each other over the achingly-neat desk, suddenly hesitant.

  “I asked you here to…”

  “I guess I should…”

  We both spoke at once, then we both laughed.

  “Sorry,” I began, recovering my equilibrium first. “I wanted to say sorry. For earlier. And to ask if we could reconsider. I want you to stay here.”

  Emma stared at me. “Of course,” she said. “I mean, it’s not like we tore up the contract or anything…” she chuckled weakly, looking down at the desk.

  “Emma.”

  The way I said her name surprised even me. I cleared my throat, wanting to try again, less meaningfully, less gentle, but my mouth was dry. Emma looked up at me, eyes big and longing.

  “What?” she asked gently.

  “I…” I stopped. I didn’t know what to do from here. She was looking up at me, eyes big and wide and tender. My whole body was aching for her, to touch that smooth skin, to feel her lips part under my lips. She had such beautiful skin, as soft and pliable as petals, or so I was imagining at that moment. I faced her and leaned in toward her slowly.

  I hope she doesn’t hate me.

  I couldn’t help it, though. I had to kiss her. Had to try and if it didn’t happen now it was never going to happen. Her lips met mine. She did not flinch away.

  I felt his loins ignite. Her mouth was soft, so much softer even than it looked. My lips were gentle and they nipped at hers, exploring hers carefully. She sighed and those sweet lips parted just a little, letting me in. It was a wonderful feeling, my tongue inside her mouth, on hers. Her mouth tasted minty and sweet and perfect. My tongue flickered over the moist patch I had left there on her lips, and, as she made a small noise, I slid inside for a second go. She let her own tongue slide along my own. She tasted like mint and something sweet and sinfully-nice. I felt my own body catch fire.

  I broke the kiss and found myself feeling suddenly weak. I leaned on the desk, eyes closed, face before hers. This is the first time I have felt anything for anyone since Ada. Certainly nothing anywhere close to this.

  But what did Emma think of me?

  “Sorry,” I said, eyes still closed. When I opened them again, I wasn’t sure what she saw on my face, but she looked worried. Her brow raised and a little frown appeared there.

  “Sorry?” she said softly. She didn’t seem to think I had anything to say sorry for, which was in itself a relief.

  “I…it was wrong of me to…to do that,” I stuttered. “Not just because…” I left it there, then stood up straight again. I didn’t want to just say: “It was wrong of me because I employ you.” That wasn’t why it was wrong. What if she hadn’t wanted that kiss?

  Shaking my head as if to clear it from sleep, I opened my eyes again. I looked at her. Emma stared back. Her hands reached for mine. I felt my breath catch in my throat. Any way she could have responded, I would have expected, I thought. But not this. I took her hand, squeezed it hard. Ada’s picture watched me from the shelf and the memory, of her and of what had happened to her, made me pause. I withdrew my hand.

  “Mr. Carring?”

  “Alexander,” I found myself saying automatically. Then I sighed. “Sorry. This is silly. It’s late. Forgive my…my lapse of manners. We are agreed you will stay the month. Yes? We will reassess then. Please forget what…we just did. I apologize for it.” I swallowed hard, wishing that I didn’t have to say that, but knowing I did. For her sake, even more so than for mine. I felt my jaw clench as if reluctant to get out the words.

  Emma stared at me. His accent was brittle, and, as I noticed, at its most perfect. I tend not to sound overtly British unless I am at a tense business meeting or I feel pressured. Now I must have felt really, really stressed.

  “I understand, Mr. Carring,” she said softly.

  I closed my eyes. Now I hurt her. Chased her away. At least, she would think me crazy, or slightly odd. At worst, she would hate me. But I could bear it. It was better if she thought that I was horrible than that she was really to get involved with me. Better for her. Better for me too and in the far-distant future I would probably be aware of that. I just wasn’t now. I decided to keep up the hateful character a while as it seemed like the best way to solve this particular problem.

  “Now go,” I said hoarsely. “It’s late and I need to catch up with work.”

  Emma nodded and, silent, she stood, walking across the carpet, her high-heeled shoes leaving a soft trace in the rich, soft pile of it. She stopped at the door.

  I had not moved. I was staring straight ahead, looking through her. Emma reached for the door handle and very quietly opened and shut it behind her.

  As she closed it, leaving me alone in the office, I sighed and collapsed back onto the chair.

  “Ada, forgive me.”

  I closed his eyes, letting the traces of the lust that had risen so suddenly, slowly dissipate. I knew that my body longed for the sweet curves and scented skin of this lovely woman. But my heart was not mine. Ada had taken that with her, when she left me. I should remember that. I had to remember that, and all it meant.

  Ada.

  Her picture regarded me from the shelf and I recalled the torment of losing her, the pain that wounded his heart and wounded it, every day. I could not afford to forget what happened, to forget my rage, my sense of blame and guilt. I would not let that happen to anyone again. Not now.

  “Ada,” I whispered. Help me.

  Miss Blunt was right. I had hurt my children, making them lose their already-tentative trust in me. What if they never regained that trust? What if they learned to fear, and then to hate. Ada would not have wished for that.

  But I only want to protect them. I want to keep them safe from all harm. I could not bear to lose them.

  I sighed. I ran a we
ary hand down my face, letting my nerves settle. I looked at the clock. It was late. I really should finish my correspondences now and then go to bed. I had been moving all day, after all. Maybe that was what had happened to me, at least in part. Had made me lose my mind as I had tone about her today.

  It’s my mind; it’s playing tricks.

  I sighed and, opening up my sheaf of correspondences, settling down to work.

  Chapter 5

  Emma

  “Run, run!”

  “You can’t catch me…I’m a gingerbread man!”

  Two childish voices arced up through the still air as I sat on the lawn, watching Jack race Cammi across the grass. The evening smelled of dew and dust and the shadows stretched away from them, caressing the velvety grasses around their feet.

  “Enough!” I laughed, as the two children collapsed in a panting, tired heap. “That was a tie! For certain.”

  “Told you,” Cammi said smugly, wriggling up onto her elbows and pulling a tongue at Jack. Jack grinned and dusted off his knees.

  “Cars are still faster,” Jack said, sounding matter-of-fact.

  I laughed. The memory of the other night still tormented me with its sweetness, its utter confusion. Alexander Carring had kissed me. His kiss had melted my body like no other kiss had, leaving me wanting him and leaving me with more questions.

  “Emma! I’m tired.” Cammi’s voice broke through my reverie.

  “Come and sit here, then,” I said. I indicated the thick, soft grass beside me. The whole garden was beautiful and I was glad the weather was so good, allowing us to spend whole mornings outdoors.

  The children came to sit beside me. Cammi leaned against my leg where I sat with my fingers looped around a knee. Jack sat in front of me and I rested a hand on his shoulder, gently. He leaned back and the three of us shared a moment of still happiness. It was wonderful to sense their trust, their sense of ease with me and mine with them.

  “Tell us a story,” Jack asked quietly.

  “Yes!” Cammi exploded, jumping up instantly. “One with fairies. Please, Emma?”

  I grinned. The last week had seen me telling several stories, all woven from my wildest imaginings and remembered tales of my childhood. They seemed to amuse the kids, and they helped me, as well. At least if she let my imagination run freely, I didn’t have time to think about Alexander. Or that kiss. Or Ada.

  “Okay, okay,” I agreed, still chuckling softly. “And I promise it won’t just be about fairies,” I added to Jack, grinning, seeing his crestfallen expression cross his face.

  “Okay.”

  I cleared my throat. “A long time ago, in a forest, was a clearing not unlike this one. And in this clearing lived a big troll.”

  “No! Not a troll,” Cammi protested, dropping the stalks of grass she was playing with. “A fairy. You promised.”

  “She’s going to be part of the story in a minute. Bear with me. This wasn’t just any troll. This was an enchanted one. Really, inside, he was a handsome prince. Just waiting to come out.”

  As I told the story, I realized, with some surprise, that it was about Alex. He was the troll. Yes, he might have been beautiful both inside and out—I had to admit that to myself. But he did his best to be scary and to drive people away. The fairy, who tried to make him see his good side, and loved him despite his forbidding exterior was…is it me?

  I laughed at it, the thought breaking the thread of my concentration, and the thrust of the story.

  “What?” Jack asked, squinting up at her where he lay on his back in the late-afternoon rays, playing with grass stalks.

  “Nothing,” I said, suddenly flustered. “I just had a funny thought…”

  “She was having a funny thought about the troll,” a deep, resonant British voice explained, matter of fact, somewhere in the trees behind. “And about what he might drive, if he happened to have a car.”

  I whipped round. I know that voice. I had heard it every night in my dreams since I met him.

  Alex was there, dressed in a tweed jacket and Levi’s, looking more debonair than I had ever seen him. The jeans were tight and fitted perfectly over his muscled form, the tweed jacket bringing out his dark eyes. I swallowed and looked up at his face, noticing with some surprise that he was smiling.

  “Hello,” he said. “Sorry for sneaking up like that. I was just passing on my way to the garage, and I wanted to ask you, all of you”—he added, looking from me to his small son and daughter who looked up at him with loving eyes—“if you would like to join me in the car for a ride.”

  I wet my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. “A ride?”

  “I have recently had some repairs made to a vehicle of mine. A certain MG…”

  He had not finished the sentence before Jack jumped, face suffused with awe. “Not the MG convertible?”

  “Yes, son. That’s correct.” Alexander was laughing as he ruffled the child’s hair. Cammi was looking from her father to her older brother with a delighted half-smile on her face. Not wanting to be excluded from the general love, she ran forward and hugged his knees.

  “Daddy! Can I sit on your knee while we’re driving?” she asked.

  I laughed, then felt a tenderness fill me as Alexander slowly bent his knee and looked into the little girl’s eyes.

  “Of course,” he said softly. “But only on the country roads. On the big road, it’s safer if you sit behind me. You can help me, too…keeping a lookout for trolls. Or is that traffic policemen? I forget the differences.”

  I, and the children, all laughed. I stood as the children cannoned off, evidently knowing the route to the garage very well. I looked up at Alexander, suddenly alone with him for the first time since that night. Having him so close was intense. I cleared my throat and looked away, suddenly feeling a torrent of emotions flood through me. One of them was profound nervousness.

  “Well,” he said, sighing. “That seems to have cheered that lot up.”

  I gave a soft chuckle. “Yes.”

  I stood there a little awkwardly. The breeze ruffled the leaves overhead. Neither he nor I spoke. Watching the children running around in the garden, their whoops of joy breaking the evening quiet, I turned away.

  “Emma,” he said after a moment.

  I swallowed. It was the first time he had used my name, not just “Miss Blunt”. His lips made it a touch, almost as if those long fingers reached out and took my hand in his.

  “Yes?” I asked. My voice came out hoarse and I cleared my throat. I looked up at him and saw a tenderness in his eyes that made my heart thud.

  “Thank you.”

  I stared. “Thank me? Whatever for?”

  “For making me see what a tyrant I was being. I can’t believe it now. For giving me a chance to rebuild things with my kids.” He sighed.

  I chuckled and felt my heart reach out to him. “They sure do love you. Kids are very forgiving you know.”

  “I noticed.” Alexander chuckled, the sound tinged with self-mockery. I bit my lip, hearing it.

  “Whatever you did, you had your reasons,” I said quietly. We were walking behind them now, slowly, while they played tag up ahead on the lawn, racing each other along. “If the kids can forgive you, if you fix it now, that’s all that matters.”

  Alexander looked into my eyes. “Truly?”

  “Yes.”

  He was an arm’s length from me. The breeze ruffled my hair and there was no other sound except its soft whispering rustles in the leaves. The only thing in the clearing was him. He reached out and laid a hand on my shoulder. I stood very still. My heart thumped, and my whole body shivered. The touch of his fingers was soft, hesitant. A gentle foray into what might be forbidden territory. I half-lifted her hand to rest it on his, then let my arm drop.

  “What?”

  I shrugged. He removed his hand and I missed it instantly.

  “Nothing,” I said, shakily. The loss of touch was like a physical blow. It had felt so right, to stand with his hand on my shoulder
, the sunset making patterns of their shadows. “Where are the kids?”

  He laughed. “Quite.”

  Together we watched as the two children ran down the long green lawns into the sunset. It felt strange. Like I knew him for years. Like it was so natural to walk here, slower, while the children played about on the path ahead, their laughs soft and high in the evening air.

  “Whoa!” Alexander said, raising his hands in mock-surrender as two small bodies hurtled down the drive at him. He was laughing. On the edge of the scene, I was surprised to feel tears prick at her eyes as I watched him reach down and lift Cammi, ruffling Jack’s hair.

  “Here we go!” he said, pressing the knob to open the door. I walked forward a pace while the children sucked in their breaths with excitement. I didn’t want to intrude on this special moment between them, and yet it seemed I had been invited to, that I was welcome here in this space with the three of them. I stared at the thing he had to show us. The children stared too.

  It was an MG. A beautiful, shiny, vintage thing of beauty and fineness that spoke of style. I sucked in my own breath, feeling a thrill of delight.

  “Okay!” Alex said, gesturing to the wide garage-doors. “I’ll bring it out, then we all pile in. Okay?”

  “Woohoo!”

  “Yay!”

  I smiled as the children hopped about, hugging themselves with excitement. Alex grinned, a sudden flash of happiness. My heart soared with the sweetness of it. I smiled back and his gaze held mine. The children went quiet, and Alex cleared his throat. He drew his eyes away from mine and to the children, shaking his head a little.

  “Okay, gang,” he said happily. “Here goes…”

  He slid nimbly into the seat and drove the car out, greeted by a wave of requests.

  “I want to sit in the back, behind Daddy. That’s my place. Remember?” Cammi protested.

  “Who’s going in the front seat?” Jack asked.

  Alex alighted and walked round to the door. He opened it.

  “Emma?”

  I swallowed hard. He was holding the door open for me.