by Jenny Frame
Then it hit Finn what she thought. She was now assuming Carrie was somewhere else, somewhere better. Was it just wishful thinking?
Finn shook her head and was disgusted at the way she used to patronize people’s need to believe in a spiritual world after a loved one’s death, but the feeling was palpable. She still felt connected to Carrie as if the tethers of love and family were unbroken. She took a few seconds and closed her eyes. In her mind’s eye she could see a smiling Carrie standing beside her, with her hand on her shoulder.
“I love you, Carrie.”
Finn felt a ripple of cold air. She snapped her eyes open, turned around, and saw her bedroom curtain move. “Carrie?”
She nearly jumped out of her skin when someone banged the cottage door. “Jesus fucking Christ!”
Finn hurried downstairs and opened the door to find a smiling Quade there. “Morning, mate. Bridge said you were going to church this morning, and I thought we could walk together.”
Finn raised a quizzical eyebrow and said, “More like she sent you to make sure I get there.”
“Well, whatever. I’m glad of the company and it’s best to do what Bridge says, in my experience,” Quade joked.
“Okay, give me a second.” Just before Finn went back in to get her wallet, and her pack of cards for her top pocket, she realized that Quade had on jeans, boots, but a smarter shirt and blazer. “Wait, we can wear jeans? Bridge said I had to wear a suit.”
Quade smiled. “It’s a country parish, very informal. If you’ve been up since half past four, looking after animals, you’re lucky the farmers get washed and put on a smarter shirt, far less a suit.”
Finn let out a sigh. She would have been so much more comfortable in jeans, but if that’s what Bridge wanted, then fine.
Finn and Quade walked through the village enjoying the early morning sun and crisp, cold air.
“So,” Quade said, “did you enjoy Witch’s Night?”
“It was great. I guess things like that make living in a small village something special.”
“Yeah, you could say that. I love life here, though it would be even better to share it with someone,” Quade said with a sigh.
“The farmer wants a wife, eh?” Finn joked.
Quade laughed and pushed her hands into her jeans pockets. “Something like that.”
“You need to get out of Axedale for a night or two with me and visit some gay pubs and clubs in London. The women would love a strong farmer like you.”
Quade looked terrified at the thought. “Um…thanks, but I doubt sophisticated city girls would much like the life of a farmer’s wife. Anyway, what happened to you and Bridge last night? You disappeared.”
Finn got nervous suddenly, remembering Bridge on her lap kissing her, and making Finn want her like no one had before. “We just went to talk.”
Quade put a hand on her chest and stopped her. “Finn, did something more serious happen?”
Finn sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“Isn’t it always.” Quade pointed to the bench by the bus stop and said, “Sit.”
As kind and as friendly as Quade was, she was big and tough, and looked intimidating when she wanted to.
Finn sat and Quade stood over her. “Is this the part where you threaten me with bodily harm if I hurt her?”
“Something like that. Bridge has made a good life here, and the church and her friends are her life. You know the position she is in, and the homophobic bishop she has breathing down her neck. So if you care about Bridge, you take it at her pace and be discreet. Especially considering who you are.”
“I know what she has at stake, Quade, but we have to explore what’s between us. She is the most wonderful and infuriating woman I’ve ever met, and she’s helped me so much. I promise I will go at her pace—besides, no one tells Bridge what to do.”
“Very true.” Quade laughed and then held out a hand to help Finn up. “Bridge means a lot to the people of the village, Finn, and remember—we’re country people and farmers, so we have lots of shotguns and lots of land to bury you on.”
“Very funny. Get me to church, or the vicar will have a fit.”
Quade started to stride forward. “Yeah, keep up. I don’t want her to bring that whip out. It’s not my thing.”
“Wait. What whip?” Finn jogged to keep up with her.
* * *
Finn’s heart thudded and her palms were sweaty, as she and Quade sat in church waiting for the service to start. The church organ music played in the background, and only made the knot in her stomach worse. You’re doing this for Bridge.
Then everyone stood, and Bridge walked out to the pulpit. Her worry floated away as she listened to Bridge welcome everyone and start to give out some parish notices. This was Bridge, and there was nothing to worry about when she was there.
The Church of England service was very different to the ones she had been involved with as she grew up. There were no flash tricks, loud music, or people being whipped into unnatural excitement. It was reflective and calming almost, and Bridge had been right about church being more than praising God. She felt like an important part of the community here.
As Bridge spoke, Finn couldn’t help but remember Bridge sitting on her lap and kissing her. It was entirely wrong to be thinking these thoughts, but they made her feel even more excited.
They sang a hymn together and Bridge prepared to start her sermon. “I’ve taken for my reading today the parable of the lost sheep.”
Bridge looked at her then and gave her a small smile. Finn could only smile back, and thought, I’m falling in love with you.
Once the service was over, everyone filed out of the church, shaking Bridge’s hand at the church door. When it was Finn’s turn she squeezed her hand, and said, “I loved the sermon, Vicar. Very appropriate.”
Bridge smiled. “Did I knock your socks off then?”
“You always do, Bridge.” They gazed at each other a little too long and Quade gave Finn a soft nudge in the back.
“Sorry. Will I see you later, Vicar?” Finn said hopefully.
Bridge nodded. “Go to the pub with Quade, and I’ll join you there soon. We usually have Sunday lunch at Axedale but since Harry and Annie are away, we thought we’d have a pub lunch. I need to pop into Mrs. Castle’s on my way.”
“See you soon.”
Finn wandered down to the church gates to wait on Quade, and Mr. Butterstone approached her. “Morning, Ms. Kane. It was wonderful to see you in church this morning. Has the vicar asked you yet? She must have done, since you’ve come this morning. You must be feeling a lot better.”
Finn hadn’t a clue what he was talking about. “I’m sorry, Mr. Butterstone. I’m not quite sure what you mean.”
“Our winter show. When you came to the village, we on the parish council thought it would be wonderful if you could perform and maybe direct our village show. We’d love to see your magic performance, but the vicar insisted we wait until she got to know you a bit better, and then she’d ask you to do it. I know it’s just a little village show, but it would keep you well practised before you return to your big shows in the city.”
Finn’s heart sank at the reminder that there was another life waiting for her back in London. A life where the illusion of Finnian Kane took people’s money for cheap magic tricks, just like her father, and a life that would pull her away from this tranquil little village where she could be herself. And away from Bridge, the woman she was falling in love with.
“Excuse me, Mr. Butterstone,” Finn said and hurried out of the church gates, emotion and confusion threating to spill over.
* * *
Bridge looked in the pub, and asked around if anyone had seen Finn. When she’d seen Mr. Butterstone talking to Finn, she just knew he was going to say something about the village show.
She finally spotted Finn on the bench where they had shared their first kiss. She walked up and said, “May I sit?”
“It’s a free country,” a mo
ody Finn replied.
Bridge sat and sighed. “I’m sorry, Finn. I—”
Finn turned on her quickly. “Is my show the only thing people will ever see, Bridge?”
“I don’t believe that, darling,” Bridge said.
Finn held her face in her hands and said, “I’m a con artist just like my father. I use the illusion of Finnian Kane to take people’s money, just like him.”
“Do you really believe that, Finn?” Bridge said.
Finn let out a breath and stared down at her feet. “No, not really, but you know I’m not ready to perform. It’s one thing showing you and some kids a few tricks, but performing in a show? I can’t be that person I am in London, and in the media. I just don’t know if I have that in me any more.”
Bridge took a chance and grasped Finn’s hand. “I know that, Finn. I just kept putting Mr. Butterstone off, but he was too eager and said something to you. I would never put you in a position where you feel uncomfortable.”
“If I did something like that, the press would find me. I just can’t.”
“I’m sorry if it upset you,” Bridge said.
Finn squeezed Bridge’s hand. “For one split second, I thought maybe this wasn’t real, maybe what I’ve found here is an illusion.”
“No, Finn, this is real. Trust me?”
“Always.” Finn stood and pulled Bridge up into a hug.
They lingered awhile and Bridge said, “We better get to the pub. Poor Quade will be waiting.”
When they walked off, they held hands and neither made comment on it.
Chapter Eighteen
The next week dragged slowly, as both Bridge and Finn were looking forward to their night out in London. Bridge had been feeling the excitement building all day. It was just like all those years ago, a time when going out and having fun were the only things she had to worry about.
She put her bags in the boot of Harry’s car, and the thought of what was inside made her shiver. Before her dog collar, Bridge’s kink outfits were her costume and her armour. Kink expressed that big part of her personality so perfectly, but was she really ready to face it?
Bridge stopped and leaned against the car, as doubt and fear started to spread through her.
I could lose everything.
Her home, her career, the safe life she had built up for all these years.
Fear and the memories of those dark days after Ellen broke her heart started to grip her body.
“I can’t do this.” Bridge let out a breath, pulled out her phone, and looked up Finn’s number.
If she cancelled, she ran the risk of losing Finn forever, and hurting her the way Bridge had been. She would also be saying goodbye to this part of herself, the part that was Mistress Black, who was screaming to get out. She thought about her bishop and what he would do to her if he ever found out.
But I’m falling in love with her.
Bridge’s finger hovered over Finn’s number. Safety or…
Then a feeling of righteous indignation came over her. Why should she be put in this position? Why should she have to choose? This was part of who she was.
She slammed down the boot of the car and said, “Claremonts don’t run and hide.”
Finn was right. She had to recognize and explore this part of herself again, and even if it was just for tonight, this was for her, her chance to be totally true to herself, and she would not feel guilty about it any more.
She walked around to the front door of the car, and reapplied her deep red lipstick in the car door mirror, then took her sunglasses from her biker jacket and slipped them on.
Her outfit of figure-hugging black jeans, tight black rollneck cashmere sweater, and black heels very much suited her mood today. The black sunglasses only finished off the look.
Bridge smirked at herself in the mirror. “Welcome back, Mistress Black. We have a magician to put on her knees.”
The black Aston Martin suited the energy she was feeling completely. If only Harry could see her.
* * *
Finn sat on the couch waiting on Bridge picking her up. Bridge said she’d commandeer one of Lady Harry’s cars. Finn shuffled her cards nervously.
“Why did I get myself into this?” When she had suggested this night out, it seemed like the most exciting idea in the world, and it still was, but she was also nervous. What if when she saw the Mistress Black side of Bridge, she didn’t like it? It was one thing finding Bridge and her dismissive top attitude different and sexy, but what if in reality she didn’t like being with the dominatrix that was Mistress Black? She had always been the one who did the running, the demanding, the leading. Maybe this was a step too far? And that would be tragic, because she was sure she was falling for Bridge in a big way.
Her phone beeped with a message. I’m outside.
Finn let out a breath and put her cards away safely in her bag. “Well, this is it, Finn. You wanted this.”
She threw her bag over her shoulder and said to Carrie’s photo, “Wish me luck, Carrie.”
When Finn opened her front door, she gasped. “Bloody hell.”
Bridge leaned against a black Aston Martin, looking a lot like one of the Bond girls her mother played, arms crossed, in tight black jeans, black sweater, an extremely high pair of heels, and black sunglasses.
Bridge had clearly left the vicar at home. She was standing taller and carrying herself with more confidence. This was Mistress Black.
She lowered her sunglasses along the bridge of her nose and gave Finn a smoky look. “Do I have to wait all day, Magician?”
Jesus Christ. She had no idea why she’d been worried about being comfortable with this dynamic that was growing between them. At this moment Finn would have crawled over to the car and kissed Bridge’s shoes. There was nothing contrived about this energy between them. It was natural and it appeared that they both fed off it. Finn only prayed she would be allowed to touch Bridge.
“Did you hear me?” Bridge said.
Finn jumped into action, locked her cottage door, and walked down to the car. She tried to play it as cool as she could. “When you said you were borrowing one of your friend’s cars, I didn’t think you’d roll up in an Aston Martin.”
Bridge smiled. “You wanted me to show you the other side of me, what my life used to be like. This is it, champagne and sports cars. Put your bag in and we can get going.”
Finn put her bag in the back seat and got in the front. The interior was so gorgeous it was making her horny. She turned to watch Bridge slip into the driver’s seat and throw her heels into the back seat, and felt even more aroused. She needed to touch Bridge at least once.
“Bridge?” Finn leaned over to kiss her, and Bridge grasped her chin.
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. We are starting off on the wrong foot, boy. What did I tell you about taking? You don’t want to be bad, do you?”
Finn smiled. “Maybe I want to do bad things with you.”
Bridge laughed and switched on the engine. “I bet you do. Let’s go.”
* * *
Bridge had booked them into a small hotel around the corner from the private members’ club she was taking Finn to. The club was run by some old friends of hers from her Red’s days, and she was sure they would be discreet. She couldn’t face going to Red’s again and facing her painful memories, so this was the next best thing.
She had gotten two rooms to assure discretion but there was an interconnecting door between the two. Bridge sat at her dressing table applying her make-up after showering, and she was already getting that tingle of excitement she used to get when she went out regularly. It amazed her how easily Mistress Black came out from under her armour. It never had been difficult to keep that side of her under wraps, but since Finn came to the village and slammed the cottage door in her face, Mistress Black had wanted Finn, and on her knees.
Bridge finished with her eye pencil and blotted her lipstick one last time. This was it, the moment she had been most excited about, donning her
black leather corset and leather miniskirt. It crossed her mind how much she would love to have Finn dress her, but if she invited that now, they might not make it out of the hotel room.
A little voice at the back of her mind told her to stop this before it went too far, but her need to explore her feelings for Finn were too loud.
As she dressed, Bridge felt a rush of confidence and power. The leather, the way her corset held her, the feel of her sheer stockings and suspenders that hung below the hem of her skirt, and her high, high heels magnified that part of her personality, the part that loved to control, to coerce her play partner to their ultimate pleasure. She loved giving someone that, and to think of holding Finn on the edge of pleasure before giving her release made Bridge shiver.
She checked her corset in the full-length mirror on the wardrobe, and considered the similarity to dressing in her vestments. Each costume amplified another part of her personality. Both were part of Bridge, and she’d always believed that the two couldn’t coexist, but that need that Finn was bringing out in her made her wonder if she was wrong.
There was a knock at the connecting door. “Wait,” Bridge said firmly.
She went over to the bed and picked up the last piece of her outfit, the part that made her persona of Mistress Black complete—her riding crop.
Bridge stood by the four-poster bed and said, “Come in.”
Finn opened the door and walked in. She stopped suddenly when she saw Bridge and said, “Jesus fucking Christ.”
* * *
Finn could hardly breathe at the sight before her. Bridget looked sexy, exquisite, terrifying…all of the above. She wore a tight black leather corset and a tiny black leather skirt that was so short Finn could see her lace underwear and the tops of her stockings.
Finn longed to touch and kiss those legs that had tormented her. Bridget’s bright red lipstick matched the nails that she longed to feel dig into her back.
Bridge stood nonchalantly by the bed, tapping a riding crop on her thigh. “That mouth of yours is filthy, boy.”