Inconvenient Lover

by Cooper-Posey, Tracy

  “We’re going to walk the boundary,” she added. Such an innocuous occupation could hardly offend her father’s sensibilities.

  He nodded. “You’ll get wet again, Anastasia. Take a raincoat with you.” He nodded at David. “Enjoy your walk.” He disappeared back into the room.

  David stared after him for a moment, then looked at her. “Wet again?” he said curiously.

  “I’ll explain later,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t take her up on the implied promise. “Let’s just get outside and get moving.”

  He stepped aside. She led him out through the family room and across the extensive back garden to the gate set into the back wall that led out into the pasture land that made up the rest of the property.

  They set off in silence, a silence that lasted for many minutes. The clouds overhead were quite threatening, thick dirty balls of fluff that hung so low Anastasia thought she might be able to touch them if she could reach high enough.

  Numeralla was a large property, which stretched back to take in some of the foothills and they crossed the rolling downs, making their way toward the larger tree-covered hills in the east.

  David examined the terrain ahead. “When you said we’d be doing some climbing you weren’t kidding, were you?”

  She shook her head. “They’re not mountains but you’ll feel like they are when you get to the top. We can skip that part of the boundary if you want.”

  He looked at her. “Do you want to climb them?”

  It was a tough climb as she knew from experience but the view from the top repaid the effort. And today, as she had last night, she felt the need to exhaust herself with some physical task so demanding it would sap her of all energy, all drive, all needs and wants. “Yes,” she said firmly. “I do.”

  It was just as tough and exacting as Anastasia remembered it to be and just what she needed to keep her mind and body occupied. David climbed by her side, breathing steadily and evenly, his long legs working smoothly as he climbed. Every now and again he would reach out to haul himself up the incline with a handy tree branch or rock. And whenever she slipped or stumbled his hands were there, to tug her easily back onto her feet. And because she was constantly watching him and distracting her mind from the climb, she stumbled often.

  The slope grew steeper and they were within twenty feet of the top when she felt her foot slip on a loose rock and twist. She lurched sideways and grasped at thin air, her arms flailing as her center of gravity, already balanced over her back foot, threatened to topple her back down the slope.

  David threw his arm around her waist and pulled her back up, physically lifting her off her feet because of the strength of his pull. She stumbled upward and came to rest against the solid wall of his chest, his arms two iron bands around her body.

  She remained quiescent against him, listening to his rapid heartbeat and the slowing of his breath while her own scattered wits and shrieking nerves subsided. It was good to feel his arms around her.

  “Are you all right?” She could feel his voice reverberate against her cheekbone. “Did you hurt your ankle?”

  She looked up and shook her head. “I’m all right.”

  He lifted one arm away from her, brushing back the thick locks framing her face. “You’ve gone as white as a sheet. Come on, there’s only a few feet left. We can rest at the top.” He released her, all except her hand, which he kept firmly in his grasp.

  Slowly, they climbed to the top, Anastasia cautiously putting weight on the ankle that she had felt slip from beneath her but it seemed fine. On the crest they came across sheep tracks which led to a stony outcrop that served as an excellent lookout point and followed the worn path to the flat peak.

  The spectacular view took whatever breath they had left after the climb.

  Numeralla was laid out beneath them like a patchy green picnic blanket, the house and surrounding gardens and the long graceful driveway anchoring the billowing land. Scudding cloud shadows raced across the ground toward them, dipping up and down over hillocks, as the cool, rain-heavy wind pushed against their faces where they stood at the very edge of the outcrop.

  “It was worth the climb,” David remarked.

  She lifted her chin up into the wind, letting it stream over her face and push back her hair, lifting the sides up and away from her face. Her skin was glowing from the exercise and the fresh air and she felt wholly alive and at peace as she always did when she climbed this hill.

  She sighed.

  “That’s the third sigh this morning,” he said. “And you’ve been very quiet—even for you. What’s up?”

  “Nothing now. Not here. Whenever I’m up here, looking down on the view, all my problems seem so trivial. It must be the remoteness and height above the world—being here reminds you just how short and precious life is.”

  David looked out over the view once more and nodded a little in agreement. “So what was your problem?” he asked, making her smile at his persistence.

  And because it did seem so very trivial up there, she found she could tell him. “You were,” she admitted. “Or, to be quite literal, you weren’t.”

  David didn’t show any surprise. On the contrary, she thought she could detect a flicker of pleasure in his eyes. His face remained smoothly neutral, however. “Is that cryptic clue supposed to be an official complaint? Is it that my gentlemanly behaviour is somehow irritating you, Anastasia?”

  “No! Don’t misunderstand me. Your behaviour has allowed me to relax in your company. But you made me a very specific promise and so far, you don’t seem to have done a lot about trying to achieve that promise and I’m…suspicious.”

  He pushed his hands into the deep pockets of his heavy coat. “Have you forgotten that I have no intention of carrying out some sort of sex-enslavement scheme upon you?” He grimaced. “It would be an empty victory if I did resort to that. I already know the potential power of your response to me. I couldn’t fail to bind you to me that way.”

  She suddenly shivered. “Then what are you trying to achieve?”

  He smiled, his expression lighting up his face. There was an impish joy in his eyes. “If you can’t see it yet, Anastasia, then my agenda must stay safely hidden. But your question gives me hope.”

  “Then…you still do want me?” she asked hesitantly. “I mean, it’s just that…” She faltered, for David’s joyful expression had abruptly vanished, to be replaced by another that frightened her by its power.

  He took the single step that separated them and grasped her shoulders. “You should never ask that question unless your own intentions are immediate and explicit.” His voice was a growl. “It’s like waving a red rag. No man can resist proving the affirmative, at once and thoroughly.”

  “Then you do? Want me?”

  “God above, woman, I’m not a machine. I can’t just switch it off.” He shook his head a little. “Though I’ve lain awake every night wishing I could.”

  “Then why…” She swallowed dryly, for his proximity and the subject were making her adrenaline pump and her body tingle. She rephrased herself. “That night on the boat and at your place, the next week. I haven’t felt anything like that coming from you since.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, as if lowering the shutters against revealing something by the eloquent expressions his eyes would unveil. The hands on her shoulders tightened for a brief fraction of a moment.

  He looked down at her again but she had no chance to decipher his expression for he was lowering his head down to hers. “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured as his lips came down upon hers.

  It was just like before. Caught by surprise, she felt her breath desert her as he drew her up against him with a delicious friction that revealed the power of his arousal. He did indeed want her. His mouth moved against hers, gently encouraging her response. And she responded blindly and without constraint.

  Her thoughts were stolen away by his lips as they grew firmer and his tongue explored every sweet corner of her mouth. His large
hand lay warm against her cheek and jaw, holding her steady. She lifted her arms up, up. They felt heavy. She slid her fingers up into the thick velvety hair on the back of his neck, feeling the smooth hot skin beneath her fingertips ripple with a shiver and his breath checked for a moment, before resuming, at a slightly faster pace.

  Then even her awareness of them as two entities evaporated under a hot wave of sensuality. She was caught up entirely by the driving need within her, aware only of the delicious feelings being evoked by external stimuli that registered dimly after the fact. His warm hands stroking the tender plains of her stomach and midriff, the taste of his skin under her lips, the feel of it under her hands and the responses her touch created—small twitches of nerves and tendons and muscles, which were provoking in their own right. His hands sliding upward to find her breasts in their confining cups of lace and satin. His strong thumbs pushing them aside to allow his fingers access. The sharp silvery spike of pleasure that speared her at his touch made her gasp and made her hips arch against him in an involuntary spasm that brought an answering growl from deep within his chest.

  Her urgent need was utterly devoid of fear. He had told her not to fear, so she didn’t. Deep in the core of her being, a tiny final bastion of reason could sense the element of control in him. It had been there all along. Usually it was covert, undetected, a last reserve to be called on at need. And now it was strong, to match the strength of his own need. It would be strong enough. In that she believed him, had seen the evidence in the implacable will and iron discipline she had discovered over the last few weeks, just as she had learned of the many facets of the passion he was controlling now.

  And so, fearlessly, she allowed herself to sink into the maelstrom.

  Until she was pushed from his arms, almost thrown away. He turned from her, a groan tearing from his throat, and strode across the stone, as if he must put distance between them. He swore under his breath and pushed the heavy fringe of hair off his forehead with a jerky movement of his arm.

  She blinked rapidly, trying to adjust her sight to the daylight, dull though it was. Her whole body trembled with the subsiding tide of emotion. Her lips were tender and swollen and her clothing loose, the shirt unbuttoned and dragged from her jeans.

  David had fared no better. His coat was lying in an untidy pile on the rocks at her feet. The band of his sweater was riding up high, exposing the coffee cream skin of his hips and stomach to the cold touch of the wind. The button of his trousers was loose and the zipper partly lowered. Anastasia felt her gaze drawn to the flat tender skin that was revealed and forced herself to look up to his face instead, her heartbeat skipping unsteadily at the evidence of her passion.

  His eyes were dilated, wide, the gray almost consumed. He cleared his throat and attempted a smile that emerged lopsided and rueful. “Does that answer your question, Anastasia?” He began to readjust his clothing.

  She quickly closed her eyes and looked away. Guilt flooded her system. What had she been doing? Why? She’d virtually asked him to do this to her. And if he hadn’t been able to stop, if he hadn’t had the strength of will, where would it have ended? She had been beyond control…mindless. Careless of even her own feelings and decisions, driven by more base instincts.

  “No, don’t look away.” David’s voice was a sharp command and she found herself obeying him. She looked back at him.

  He crossed the flat stone to stand in front of her once more and picked up her hand. She could feel his trembling and that told her more eloquently than all the other evidence just how much he wanted her.

  “I told you that you would always be safe in my arms.”

  “I remember.” Anastasia forced herself to look him in the eye. “It’s not you I’m afraid of. It’s me. What’s inside me.” She couldn’t voice the rest of it—that she was afraid of becoming like her mother and succumbing to a passion that would only bring pain and misery and untold suffering down upon those close to her.

  But David didn’t need to be told. “I know you’re afraid of yourself. You’re afraid of your response to me. And that is what I promised you—that I would keep you safe. You. I know you, Anna. Better than you think. I know your guilt. I understand your fear.”

  “How can you? I’ve never told you—any of it.”

  “I’m not blind. Or deaf. I’ve seen the painting of your mother and I saw your reaction to your aunt’s tale. I’ve watched and listened when you and your father are together. And I’ve sifted through Hugh’s words too.”

  “Hugh doesn’t know all of it, either.”

  David shook his head. “No. And I don’t know the details. But I can see the shape of it, Anna. I know what it is that is pushing you into marrying Hugh. I’ve learnt a lot from my outsider’s perspective. And that’s why I don’t want you to fear, even yourself.” He caressed her cheek with his knuckles. “I won’t ever let you go beyond what you want…and I will know that point too. I will know and you needn’t fear.”

  “For how long?”

  “Until you come to me, completely.”

  “And if that day never comes?”

  A light flared deep in his eyes and she recognized it as his will answering the challenge. “It will come.”

  “No—don’t tell me what is in your mind. Answer my question,” she persisted.

  “I did.”

  She studied him. “It won’t ever come, David. I won’t ever submit to you completely. You may be able to break down my defences enough to snatch a moment or two, like this. But you will never have me completely. And if you understand my fear, as you say you do, then you should see that logically, I’m right. To come to you would mean acknowledging that my real nature is to be like my mother—and to give it freedom. If I do that, then I will be falling into the same trap as she did and likely will end up in the same misery as she did.”

  “You are not your mother,” he said sharply.

  “No. I’m not. I’m able to make choices, to control my life. And I’ve chosen to marry Hugh. I’ve made a decision to avoid all the mistakes my mother made and even if I’m not deliriously happy with my life I know I will be content. I don’t want my life to end like hers did. She ran away. I don’t know what happened to her but in my mind I see her, lying there dying. And she is miserable, alone and unloved.” It was the first time she had ever spoken the words aloud and she found their expression had created a tight hard knot in her throat. Unshed tears. She tried to swallow them back.

  David studied her for a long moment and she could see he was trying to assimilate her words.

  His voice was low but forceful with the strength of his conviction. “You’re wrong, Anastasia. You’re wrong about this. I can’t prove it, or tell you why. I don’t know enough details about your parents’ marriage or the way your mother died to argue with you. But with every bone in my body I know that you are wrong to turn your back on your nature. I’ve told you that before and I still believe it. You don’t have to make the same decisions as your parents did but trying to deny who and what you are is doomed to end in the very misery you are trying to avoid.”

  She shrugged, fighting the fear his words evoked. “As you say, you can’t prove it. So don’t wait for me, David. I won’t come.”

  She could see he didn’t believe her. He was supremely confident of his own assessment of her. “I can’t force you to make your own decisions, of course. So if that is truly what you decide to do, then I will settle for a compromise. Don’t marry Hugh.”

  “If you can’t have me, then no one will, huh?” She shivered as the coldness of the wind finally began to register on her senses as the last vestige of want ebbed away. She began to fasten her clothing.

  “If I can’t have you, I will settle for preventing you from dragging yourself and Hugh through heartache. You’re both my friends. I won’t let you do it.”

  She picked up his coat and held it out to him silently.

  He took it from her and put it on.

  “Let’s go down,” she said
. “We’ve got a long way to go.”

  The remainder of their walk was uneventful but the air remained a little strained between them. For once David’s company made her uneasy. He seemed preoccupied and distant. It hinted that his confidence in his own judgment was not as sure as he had tried to convey to her.

  Once back at the house, he did not linger for long. After saying goodbye to her father and the rest of the household and with his usual simple wave, he left, spraying gravel across the spread of lawn. She watched the BMW turn out onto the road and realized he hadn’t given her a gift as usual. It was a jarring note within a day of jarring notes, so the breaking of the custom didn’t have quite as much impact as it might have done otherwise.

  She had no right to expect he would remember, or even want to keep up the practice. She shouldn’t feel disappointed, she told herself that night, as she got ready for bed. He simply forgot. A lot has happened today.

  She sat at her dressing table and brushed her unruly hair into a thick ponytail at the nape of her neck. At night she tied her hair with a velvet ribbon, to keep it in some semblance of order during the night and to minimize snarls and tangles. The velvet stayed in place where no other ribbon would. She reached across to the enamelled box she kept the ribbon in, lifted the lid and paused with her hand hovering over the open box.

  It was filled with ribbons. Black, dark green, emerald, cornflower blue, turquoise, red, pink. They were all velvet and the material made the colors glow and shimmer in a mesmerizing way. And resting on top was a small card.

  Sweet dreams. David.

  She snatched her hand back as if the ribbons might burn her. How had he managed to place them there? When? And how did he know about her night time habit?

  She stared at herself in the mirror. The ribbons were his gift. He hadn’t forgotten. But the lesson for her senses wasn’t the ribbons but their deliverance. They said that even here, in the privacy of her bedroom, he could reach her and invade her thoughts. And most disturbing of all, that at this moment he was thinking of her.