Belonging

by Maria Bernard

  Chapter 29

  “You have no idea how much I love you,” Crispin whispered in her ear, in the early hours of the morning. “How grateful I am to have found you.” Gwen had awoken in a panic. At first, she didn’t know where she was. She had gotten used to the inn in London. When she woke up in the new room, it had thrown her off.

  “Me too,” she eventually said, calming at the sound of his voice. “I’m so glad you’re here. I won’t ever let you go.” She reached out to him, tugging him near. As though it were second nature, he covered her with his weight until she calmed. She wrapped her arms around him, still thinking about all he had told her.

  “We’ll be together always,” he said it her as much as to himself. “I promise to take care of you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” As he spoke, he kissed her on both cheeks, on the nose and then on the lips, savouring the quiet of their room before the tumult of the day’s activities could crash through their warm cocoon.

  After a moment, he slid off her. She turned, resting her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest, pondering the sweet sentiment of his words. “I’ll keep you safe, too, Crispin,” she whispered pensively.

  He tightened his arms around her in response. She was a balm to his soul and he loved her for knowing what to say just when he needed to hear it. With every little breathy whisper, she nestled further into his heart.

  “What’s on your mind?” he asked, stroking his fingers through her hair. Even after she had fully reassured him that his unsavoury past hadn’t changed her opinion of him, he couldn’t help but worry. A part of him would always worry, he sadly realized. Especially when all this seemed too good to be true.

  She struggled for composure but lost the battle. “Oh, Crispin. I can’t… I just… I can’t seem to get it out of my mind.”

  “What?” he asked, bracing himself for the worst. Had she decided he wasn’t worth the bother? Had she come to the realization that his past was too pathetic? Would she always look onto him with pity?

  She perched up on his chest and stared at him with glistening eyes. “How is it possible that you survived into adulthood without being loved? Are you sure no one loved you, even just a little bit? I find it so hard to accept.” When he didn’t respond, she rested her forehead on his chest and let out a sorrowful sob. She couldn’t hold him any tighter if she tried. “You must have, surely, there must have been someone. You can’t have become who you are without a trace of it.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. Her concern touched him deeply. In the next moment, he braced himself for what he was about to say. It was something he hadn’t thought about for so long or rather someone… “You are right. There was one.”

  “Really?” Gwen held her breath and perched up on his chest once again. “Who?”

  “Maria.”

  “Maria?” she repeated in anticipation. “Tell me about her.”

  “I was seven.” As he spoke, Crispin ran a hand through Gwen’s tangled web of dark hair. “I had just been placed into another foster home with a family. It was to be the longest stint of time I would ever have in one place.”

  “Tell me about Maria.” Gwen was curious and anxious to hear about this woman. Maria must have played a major key role in Crispin’s formative years. “Was she the mother?”

  Crispin smiled as he spoke next. “Grandmother, very old, in fact. When I think about it, I strongly believe she suffered from borderline Alzheimer’s. Anyway, she lived with the family. I don’t remember the actual parents too well. I know they were always so busy. There were other kids around too. When I arrived, I was there a few days, just existing as I had come to do, when for some reason, Maria took a shine to me. She saw me, really saw me. Something about me drew her out of herself and in return I responded to her. She made me feel special. For the first time in my life, I felt I had someone on my side. At night, I often snuck into her room and slept with her. She made me feel safe. Told me I was special. She found me crying one day, hiding in her room. The other kids were teasing me because I was always sickly. They said I was a weakling and no one would ever want to keep me.”

  “Aww…”

  “She asked me why I was crying. I told her what they’d said. I told her I had a sick heart. That’s what I called it at my age. I told her no one would ever want me because nobody wanted a boy with a sick heart.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She took me in her arms, sat me on her lap and said in her heavy European accent, “Crispin, your heart is no sick.” Gwen let out a small giggle at his imitation of Maria’s accent and nodded for him to continue.

  “When I asked her why I was so weak, she told me it was because I was heartsick,” he said with a fond smile. “Huge difference apparently.”

  “Heartsick?”

  “Yes, she explained it was why I caught so many colds and childhood illnesses. She said it was because I was lonely and neglected, deprived of unconditional love of which only a mother could give. But then she told me she loved me and said I would never be sick again. And you know, even after she died not long after, and I got moved yet again, I rarely got sick ever. All my childhood illnesses vanished with her words. It’s like she lifted it all away.”

  “That’s a beautiful story, Crispin.” Gwen wiped her eyes. “See, I knew there had to be someone.”

  “Yeah, for five minutes, I had someone. Aren’t I lucky?”

  “Maria gave you hope.” Gwen took his face between her palms. “Showed you kindness and love.”

  “I suppose,” Crispin said. “I’m glad it makes you feel better.”

  “It does. God knows it does, and you shouldn’t downplay it either. She opened your heart. Gave you the ability to love in return.”

  “Think so?” Crispin quirked an eyebrow.

  “Yes, I really do. It’s why you’re able to love me and trust me with your tender heart. It’s why you haven’t given up hope.”

  “My tender heart,” he snickered at the term.

  Ignoring him, she continued, “Because trust requires faith, and where there is faith you find hope, and where there is hope you find love.”

  “There you go again, my little poet,” he said, drawing her in for a kiss on the lips. “Here I thought I was the songwriter.”

  ***

  In the morning while sharing the cramped shower, Gwen took the lead and made it a point to look after Crispin. She could tell he was still in need of reassurance. He had exposed his heart and soul to her. She didn’t take that lightly. It was a bit of a challenge, him being so much taller, but it made for a fun time. She insisted she wash his hair, so he helped by hoisting her up and pinning her against the tiles. She then applied shampoo and massaged his scalp. She found it hard to concentrate when all he ended up doing was sucking and nibbling on her pebbled nipples the entire time. His hands digging into her slippery backside didn’t help her cause either, but somehow she found the strength to get the job done. After aiming the shower nozzle to the back of his head and rinsing his long dark tresses, she then followed up with conditioner.

  “I love what you’re doing with your fingers,” he said, moving his lips to her mouth, slipping his tongue between the seam of her lips. “Where have you been all my life?”

  “Searching for you,” she said with a heated smile, feeling the head of his hardness flirting with her core. She closed her eyes and thought of the night before. When they had returned from dinner, both were so filled with emotion, they had hit the bed and drowned their sorrows with hours of unhinged animalistic sex action.

  The first round had consisted of what Crispin referred to as raw vanilla sex. Which meant her in her back and him ravishing her with unbridled ardour. The second time, he’d made good use of the brass bed, tying her wrists up to the headrest with the furry handcuffs, her feet to the bars at the bottom with the silk scarves, her legs spread wide. He had lavished her with hot wet kisses from her toes to her lips with plenty of stops in between.

  She could still feel hi
m enter her then as he was doing now. She had been just as helpless at the time, only now in the shower, she had her arms around his shoulders.

  The third time, he had tied her to a chair, her hands towards the back, a silk scarf around each ankle to a chair leg, another set of scarves around each thigh. He had then lined up his erection with her mouth and she had more than willingly taken him in. She had worried for all of a second about not being able to use her hands, but when he gently grasped her by the hair and angled her head just so, it all came together quite beautifully. It was something she hadn’t expected to enjoy in that particular position but now looked forward to doing again.

  Last night, she had been wide open and exposed and she had loved every second of it. He truly was a kind master. Not a cruel streak in his bones, none that she had experienced thus far. As Crispin repeatedly thrust into her, at present, she couldn’t help but moan and dig her fingers into his flesh.

  “Sexy as fuck,” Crispin husked as he withdrew and then re-entered her with a desperate thrust of his hips, watching her eyes roll back in ecstasy. He loved the creamy complexion of her flesh tinged with the heat of passion, the way her eyes of blue-grey lost focus as he fucked the living daylights out of her. He loved the way she clung to him, her fingernails digging into his back. He loved the way she had looked last night spread wide and helpless. Truth was, he loved her in every possible way.

  Chapter 30

  At breakfast, Crispin informed Gwen of a change of plans. He had decided he was done with trains and would rather rent a car and drive from Windsor to Bath. He was a little concerned this might upset Gwen but figured he would take his chances.

  “That’s perfect, Crispin,” she said, surprising him with her enthusiasm.

  “So you won’t miss travelling by train?” he asked. “It won’t throw you off or upset you to alter our route?”

  “No, actually, it makes more sense,” she said as her mind started to race, in a very good way. “That way, we could even take little day trips around Bath.”

  “Day trips?” He quirked an eyebrow.

  “Yes! We could go see Stonehenge and Salisbury Cathedral!” Gwen’s mind raced with possibilities. She was getting hyper-excited. While she had included them in her itinerary, she hadn’t thought it would be possible to see all those places before when she thought they would be travelling by train. But a car made it all possible. “Oh, yay! And the next day, we could even take a drive through the Cotswolds!” Her voice came out louder than she had intended causing everyone in the small breakfast room to jump, Crispin included. Too excited to care, she clapped with glee.

  Glad to see her so excited and not fretting with anxiety, Crispin went ahead and arranged the rental at the front desk while Gwen ran up to their room to pack. She had her suitcase ready and waiting by the door by the time he came in.

  “All set?” she asked as he sat on the edge of the bed and studied the itinerary.

  “The car will be delivered within the hour,” he said as he flipped through the folder and then checked his cell phone, looking up directions. “Mind packing my things while I plan our route?” he asked, while he waited for the map to pop up.

  “Not at all,” Gwen chirped. As she loaded his suitcase with his clothes, she couldn’t help but smile. It felt so natural, almost like they were married, a seasoned couple of travellers getting ready to embark on yet another adventure. The idea tickled her to no end. She had packed everything as neatly as possible, having noticed how meticulously he treated his intricate clothing. When that was done, she made sure to gather up his vast array of fancy toiletries into the smaller handbag. In doing so, it toppled over and its contents fell out onto the bed. She worried for a moment when Crispin looked up from his intensive research but relaxed when he made no comment and went back to studying his phone. Shrugging it off, she picked up the bag and began to fill it when she noticed an envelope on the bed. She would have simply placed it back into the bag if it were not for the name on the address.

  “Simple enough,” Crispin said, slipping the phone into his pocket and sitting up. “Shouldn’t take us long to get to Bath. We’ll just hop on the M-4 and we should get there in a couple of hours… Hey, that’s mine!” he snapped, catching her off guard. Stalking towards her, he snatched the envelope from her hand and tossed it into his bag, zipping it shut with a vengeance.

  “Oh, sorry,” she gasped, startled and confused at his abrupt change in demeanour.

  “Just forget it!” Gathering up all the bags, he then headed to the door. “The car should be here by now.” Without another word, he left her standing there wondering what she had discovered. An envelope addressed to Crispin Hewson from someone named P. Harlow of Harlow Manor. She hadn’t caught the full address. She hadn’t gotten the chance before Crispin snatched the envelope from her hand. The only other thing she caught was Gloucestershire, United Kingdom.

  ***

  Without incident, Gwen and Crispin arrived in Bath and with the help of the GPS, found the Ivy House B&B and checked in. Gwen would have enjoyed this part of the trip more if Crispin hadn’t been in such a foul mood. Ever since the envelope incident, he hadn’t uttered a word except for cursing and grumbling as he drove and navigated the route. He did impress her with how quickly he adjusted to driving on the opposite side of the road. But instead of enjoying the trip, she sat fretting the entire time. What had she done? Had she ruined the remainder of their trip? Had she crossed some terrible line? Just when she thought her anxiety was under control, it now had her within its grips, once again.

  When booking this particular B&B, she and Stacy had thought it would be fun because the rooms were named after famous Lords and Ladies from back in the day. But all that seemed silly now with Crispin being in such a state. When they stepped into the fancy turreted powder-blue themed room, named The Lord Elgin room, he scowled and scoffed all the more. His mood continued to deteriorate as he huffed and puffed around the room, all the while muttering his distaste for the fancy decor. By the time they settled in, instead of being excited to tour the beautiful city of Bath, Gwen sat visibly deflated on the chair by the window and stared blankly at the garden out back. She had given up trying to engage him since he had already bitten her head off twice. She couldn’t help but wonder what exactly upset him? Was it her discovery of that letter? Or the content within? Who was this mysterious Harlow of Harlow Manor, and how did he know Crispin Clover, or was he, in fact, Crispin Hewson?

  His renewed flipping of her itinerary stirred her from her thoughts. Scoffing at whatever it was he read, he shut it, tossed in a drawer and stood up. He then put on his dark coat, slipped his hands into his pockets and waited by the door.

  “Whenever you’re ready, Gwen,” he said with lacklustre enthusiasm.

  “Never mind, Crispin,” she said as she stood up. “We don’t have to go if you’re not into it.” She almost hoped he’d rather skip sightseeing today. As much as she looked forward to seeing the beautiful city of Bath, she suddenly hadn’t the energy to leave the room. With him in his current mood, she didn’t think she could handle being out and about.

  Watching Gwen’s forlorn posture and the way she toyed self-consciously with her fingers, Crispin took a deep breath and sighed. Averting his eyes, he then rested his head back against the door. After a few contemplative moments, he spoke before leaving the room. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

  ***

  The city centre was a short walk from the B&B, and while Crispin started out hoofing it ahead of her, he eventually slowed his steps and held out his hand. Relieved and glad he had let his guard down even just a little, Gwen caught up to him and accepted his kind gesture. Bath was a beautifully romantic city and to tour it in such a sour mood would have been a terrible shame.

  Having committed Gwen’s itinerary to memory, Crispin did his best to keep to the plan. This was all so important to her and he refused to let his mood alter the course. First on the list was the Abbey, a 500-year-old perpendicular Gothic
church, followed by a tour of the Roman and Medieval Baths. Gwen should have been smiling more at the sight of such stunning scenery, as should he, and under any other circumstances, he would have been impressed by the combination of Gothic and Georgian architecture. But, unfortunately, he could not get that letter out of his mind.

  None of it was Gwen’s fault, but he could sense her confusion and tell she blamed herself for his bad mood. He needed to apologize, to explain why he had reacted badly when she had discovered that letter. In truth, he had almost forgotten he had brought it with him. Then as if fate were mocking him, the moment he had locked eyes with a curious town on the map when planning the route from Windsor to Bath, Gwen had discovered the envelope which had originated from the same address.

  “Come, sit,” he said, having just purchased a couple of Cornish Pasties from a bakery. He led the way to a bench. It wasn’t an ideal location to tell her what weighed most on his mind. They faced a busy touristy town square, but in a way, it worked for him. The hustle and bustle of passing tourists gave them both something to focus on while he searched for the courage to speak.

  Gwen waited patiently, taking small bites of her tasty local pastry and soothing sips of tea. She no longer blamed herself for his turn in mood. She now realized he simply was who he was. Complicated. They both had their issues, neither were perfect. She had her anxieties which surprisingly had taken a backseat the last little while, and he had his own demons to deal with. There were many layers to Crispin and she looked forward to discovering them all.

  As they had toured the beautiful old church, she had noticed his anger lessen. He had gradually come around. He had even snuck a kiss to her cheek when no one was looking. While holding her hand, she hadn’t missed the gentle swipes of his thumb over her knuckles, his way of communicating without words. He often did that despite his mood. It was a sweet thing that hadn’t gone unnoticed. Something, she had come to realize, played an integral part in why they got along so well, why they complemented each other. Some might call it co-dependancy, or weakness, but in her heart, she knew it went deeper than that. They were soulmates. This need to constantly touch her was a reminder of her presence and a balm to his soul, in very much the same way, her soul needed the reassurance of his proximity.