Master

by Raven McAllan

  It wasn't Cade. It was Athol, the fifth time he'd rung. There'd been half a dozen texts and emails along with the calls. Anna clicked on answer.

  "Hey, hon. What the fuck? Your DH has been burning the phone lines. What's going on?" Anna took a deep breath and ignored the shiver that slinked up her spine. She had to start sometime, and the sooner the better.

  "Hi, Athol. I'm sorting myself out. Do you know a good shrink?"

  The silence made her think he'd ended the call.

  "Er who for?" he asked cautiously.

  "Me obviously," Anna said and chuckled. "There's something deep-seated in all this, and if I have any chance of being with Cade, I need to find it and sort it damned quick." She was quiet for a moment, and Athol didn't speak. "I love him, Athol, and I'm crucifying him. I'm having nightmares, and I don't know why. I need help."

  "Where are you? No, I'll not tell Caden."

  Anna hesitated, but she had to start somewhere. "Devon."

  His startled laugh boomed out through the phone. "Hell, you couldn't get much farther, could you? Do you have a spare room?"

  "Two, why?"

  "Give me the address, and I'll see you tomorrow."

  It'd be nice to see him, but Anna was puzzled. However, she rattled the address off. Then she asked the next question. "Why?"

  "Shit, Anna, you sound like a wind up toy. Why … why … why…" He laughed. "You need a shrink. I'm your man. Qualified and all yours. Athol Donaldson MB BChir, etcetera, at your service. I'll let you know what time I think I’ll arrive when I know myself. Take care now, hon, see ya soon." The phone went dead.

  Anna stared at it for a long time before she put it back into her pocket and picked up her cooling cup of coffee.

  There were hidden depths in everyone, it seemed.

  ****

  Athol was as good as his word. After a night of broken sleep that she couldn't put down to a strange bed, Anna struggled out of bed around eight, had a quick wake-me-up shower, and took Dickens for a run on the narrow strip of beach. She'd have to look for somewhere else when the tide was in. She made a pot of coffee, and as she waited for it to brew she looked out of the window. The sun was up and the tide high. A little fishing boat made its way up river, and across by the estuary mouth, a couple of people were fishing from the sands. It was a glorious autumn morning, and Anna wished she could take more pleasure from it.

  Her phone chirruped to indicate a new text, and she glanced at it whilst she took a mug from the cupboard. It was Athol. ETA ten a.m. Get the bacon cooking and the coffee on. She laughed, put the mug back, and poured her coffee into an insulated one instead. Bacon was one thing she hadn't bought, preferring to use the local butcher. It looked like her first visit there was going to be sooner than she'd anticipated. She pushed her feet into her clogs and made a mental note to buy something more substantial. It might be an Indian summer and as warm as any true summer day in Scotland, but it wouldn't be too long before she needed warmer clothes. For now though she'd be fine.

  Anna walked briskly along the lane and toward the village green where the shops were situated all in a row. She came to the butcher first. She'd noticed it on her way the day before, along with a baker, to say nothing of a candlestick maker, greengrocer, and chemist. A proper village she'd decided, and one she could be happy in—maybe. It was the maybe that was the skeleton in the closet. The big black cloud that spoiled her happiness. But as it was one of her own making and one she intended to address, she'd cope with it.

  Half an hour later and after a pleasant chat to the butcher and the baker, Anna sauntered back along the riverbank lane. Much to his disgust, Dickens had been left in his kennel. Anna didn't know if there were tying posts, and she was darned sure the butcher wouldn't want him within sniffing distance of his meat.

  The sun was warm, and she'd put her jacket over her shopping bag. A car horn behind her made her step to one side and turn around. The headlights flashed, and the driver stuck his head out of the window.

  "Anna, doll, this is not a lane, it’s a footpath. I know you said narrow, but come on." Athol got out and held his arms wide. With a little cry Anna ran into them and got a big bear hug. She choked on a sob, and his arms tightened. "Hey, hon, none of that. I'm here now, shh." He stroked her hair.

  Anna felt safe, but she noted not in the same way as she felt safe with Caden. She hoped that was a good thing.

  "Right, show me how to get to this cottage of yours before we back up all the traffic in the village."

  "What?" Anna turned round. The only car was Athol's. "There's nothing there."

  He grinned. "Nah, but it got you moving." Athol patted her bum, and she sniggered.

  "Doesn't do anything for me."

  "Nor me, love. So how much farther?"

  Anna pointed ahead of her. "Just past that house on the left. There's my car and enough room for a very careful driver to park another one. I'll walk and open the chain barrier."

  Athol laughed and rolled his eyes. "Sounds kinky."

  "Wha … oh my god, Athol, trust you." Anna giggled. This is going to work. "It was full of kinks ‘til I unkinked it."

  "Tut tut, Anna, not the right answer." Athol wagged his finger as he got back into the car. "You need more kink in your life, not less."

  That might be the problem. Do I really? She walked along the lane to her cottage and opened the chain railing that kept her parking space private. Although not overlarge, it was big enough for two cars, and her little sports car took up very little space. Athol reversed in expertly and parked beside it.

  "Hairdresser’s car," he said as he got out of his mini and tapped her beloved vehicle. "Not what I see you driving."

  "Tough, I love it." Ana waited whilst Athol dragged two enormous cases out of the boot. "Grief, Athol, what have you brought? All your wardrobe and household utensils? The place is quite well equipped, you know."

  "Some of my wardrobe and a few of my Dom utensils." He shut the boot and locked it. "Lead on."

  Anna shivered, as a tiny dart of fear hit her. This sounded like full on therapy with a vengeance.

  "Dom utensils?" she asked as she unlocked the door. Athol dropped the biggest of the bags on the floor. It rattled. Ana glanced at it as if it might bite and led the way upstairs. "There's a bedroom up here or one next to mine downstairs. Take your pick."

  "Mm, I'll decide later. And yeah, Dom utensils. Doll, I'm a Dom and a Doc, and I'm trained to read behind the words. Hear what you don't say. We'll talk about it later. Now, where's the bacon?"

  There was nothing to do but go with the flow. Anna took out the bacon from her bag. "Here. With an egg?"

  "Well duh." Athol wandered out of the tiny kitchen. It wasn't big enough for them both. "I'm off to nose." He whistled cheerfully as Anna heard him go downstairs.

  Her heart was lighter than it had been for ages. She might be facing tough times—in fact, she'd bet she was—but somehow Athol's cheerful acceptance of her needs made everything a lot better.

  Fifteen minutes later, she wondered what the thumps and curses she could hear were all about. Anna turned the cooker off, and still holding the frying pan, she walked to the top of the stairwell.

  "Grub up," she shouted. Her only answer was a thud, and then a few moments later Athol appeared at the bottom of the staircase. There was a scratch on his cheek.

  "What on earth?"

  "Just rearranging the furniture a bit." He paused, and his eyes twinkled with what Anna thought of as 'wicked mirth'. "To make space for the dungeon."

  She dropped the frying pan. Bits of fried egg and bacon went everywhere.

  Chapter Thirteen

  This has to be a bloody nightmare. What the hell is he talking about?

  Athol picked a slice of bacon off his head. "I want to eat it, not wear it," he said in a mild tone. "Shall we?" Without another word, he picked up the ruined breakfast and put it back into the frying pan. Then he walked up the stairs to stand level with Anna. He rubbed her shoulder. The warmth
of his hand was a welcoming feeling, but Anna couldn't help the shiver that ran through her.

  For fuck’s sake, this is Athol. Athol. Friend and all round good guy. He's here to help you, not add to your worries.

  "Anna, honey, I'm not the big bad wolf, and you don't need to throw my food at me. I can sit at a table, you know?” He grinned, and Anna felt foolish.

  "With a knife and fork?' she asked.

  Athol chuckled. "If I must."

  Phew.

  "I'm starving, so any which way, hon. A cup of crap coffee and a stale something masquerading as a pasty at three a.m. somewhere on the motorway doesn't satisfy me." He rolled his eyes. "But don't worry, pretty lady." He spoke in a silly sing-song voice. "Neither do fair damsels. I need food for the body now. Food for the soul can follow later. That is, if you know any hot bod males who'd like to be dominated?"

  Anna hugged him, and the contents of the frying pan so recently restored to its interior one more found a home on the floor.

  "Athol, I do so love you in a non-body-fluid-sharing way. Sadly, I've met no male except the butcher. He's sixtyish, and his wife works alongside him. She wielded a mean knife."

  He laughed and took the frying pan from her. "Sit," he said in a firm voice. "Talk to me. I'll cook, you be supervisor. Enjoy it. It's not often I let anyone else be boss."

  Anna sat down in a chair near the door to the kitchen and giggled, as she was sure he'd meant her to. A thought about something he'd said struck her. "What do you mean crap coffee and whatever? Do you mean to say you drove all night? Shit, Athol, I didn't mean for you to do that."

  "Honey, at the risk of adding one more nail in the coffin of my Dom cred, or one tick on my plus side, whichever way you see it, it didn't matter. You need me, I'm here. I just grabbed stuff I thought might be useful, took leave of absence, and drove. And oh, I can see those cogs spinning faster than a hamster's wheel. I didn't say why or where, so no one except us knows. Although I have a suspicion your friends, as in Lindsay, Fiona, and Lizzie, have a good idea whom I'm with, if not the location. They're all worried, love. To say nothing of ready to dismember Cade."

  Anna stared at him as he whisked eggs and put bacon under the grill. Her stomach had dancing gnats in it, and they threatened to make her sick. "It's not Cade's fault," she said. "It’s mine."

  Athol had just put the egg mixture onto a griddle. It swayed perilously near the rim as he put it onto the heat in a quick unsteady movement. "What the fuck are you on about? He's your Dom. Your Master. How is it not his fault?"

  "Well, he did all the right things,” Anna said, somewhat annoyed by the defensive tone she heard in her voice. "It's me. I'm the one who cocked up."

  "You don't have a cock, in any way at the moment. But you don't half talk a load of bollocks. You can't cock up by yourself Anna, It takes two. Here, eat this before I ruin it and then, Anna McCourt, you and I are going to talk." He sliced the omelet he'd made into two and passed her half, decorated with some perfectly cooked bacon. The tone of his voice sent chills down her spine. At that moment, Anna realized there was a side to Athol she didn't really know. But she wanted to.

  Without a word, she began to eat.

  ****

  An hour later she was sitting in the warm sunshine in a deckchair in the garden. Dickens was fast asleep under her chair, tired out from the exercise Athol had given him on the beach whilst Anna had washed up. Athol sat opposite her, eyes closed; one ankle resting on his knee and looking totally relaxed. Anna was envious. He looked ready to fall asleep, and she was ready to fall apart. He opened one eye.

  "So, why did you run?"

  Well, that's going for the jugular.

  "I wasn't being fair to Cade."

  Athol opened both eyes and stared at her for so long Anna began to fidget. This was an Athol she didn't know. He seemed detached, a stranger who was only there as a professional, not a friend.

  "Did he say so?"

  Anna shook her head.

  "Then how do you know?"

  "I just did." Gah, now I sound like a sulky ten year old.

  "No, you didn't. You presumed. Why did you presume that, Anna? Was he cruel? Uninterested? Did he give you a boring orgasm, and leave it there? Couldn't you get him off? Was every fuck a pity fuck? Didn't he rock your boat anymore?"

  He picked up the coffee jug he'd brought outside and poured her a mug full. "Well?"

  She shrugged. Athol picked up a large stone from the rockery and threw it into the river.

  "The man is crazy over you, but will you bloody believe it? Will you, fuck? Shit, Anna he's even…" He stopped speaking and rolled his shoulders. "God, what I'd give for someone to care for me like that." His voice was bleak. "To worry so much he's threatening castration and goodness knows what if he finds out someone isn't telling him where you are and if you're okay. And you don't accept what a gift that is? Woman, you're crazy. Believe it, Anna, he's yours."

  The passion and the pain in Athol's voice surprised her. Although she knew he was dominant, he'd always come cross as someone who just took life as it came and rolled with the waves. Now she wasn't so sure. Was there a special someone he was hurting over? It wasn't the time to ask.

  Anna took a sip of coffee and burned her tongue. It served her right for not waiting. She'd been putting off the moment to start talking.

  "Oh shit. No, you're right. Yet again I blew it. Where do we go from here?"

  Athol picked up a notepad and a pencil from the ground and handed them to her. Anna took them and stared at her hands. She was proud of how steady they were. Athol's words made them shake.

  "Well, now I guess that's up to you, Anna. Write down ten things you loved about your life and ten things you hated. Then we can begin. Take your time. I'm going to take Dickens for a walk and get a newspaper. I might even bring chocolate back."

  Anna watched his back as he sauntered away, the dog beside him. Bastard. She turned the pencil over and over in her hands and bit her top lip. What he wanted sounded unusual. Her phone signaled an incoming text. Anna looked at it and rolled her eyes. The man was a mind reader.

  'Everyone is different. This is right for you. And don’t you let my mother hear what you've called me. I arrived a straight nine months and three days after the wedding. Just do it or give up.'

  She laughed—she'd long thought he'd got supernatural powers—opened the notebook and began to write. When Athol came back over an hour later, Anna had made fresh coffee and was sitting stretched out in the chair, her feet propped on his seat. He glanced at her face, and then she saw his eyes flicker to the notebook on the wall next to her.

  "Coffee in the pot, I made enough if you want one." She moved her feet.

  Athol poured some coffee into a mug and sat down. Dickens went to his water bowl and began to lap noisily. As Athol stared at her over the rim of his mug, Anna thought she now knew how a bug under a microscope felt. Naked and vulnerable.

  "Well?" she asked when the silence had stretched to unbearable and Dickens's steady lapping was getting on her nerves.

  "Very, thank you." It seemed he wasn't going to make it easy.

  "Do you want to know what I've written or not?” Anna could feel her temper bubbling up like a kettle coming to boil.

  Athol didn't drop his calm demeanor. "Do you want me to?"

  "Oh suit yourself." Anna knew she was back to miss sulky pre-teen and couldn't have cared less. It was that or have a full-blown tantrum along with the coffee pot heaved over the wall into the river, which was now lapping at the base.

  The deliberation with which Athol placed his mug on the ground should have warned her. He stood up and looked every inch the Dom. For the first time Anna had an inkling what made him the successful Dom and Master he was. And probably the successful doctor also.

  "Anna, don't push me. I want to help you, by god I do. But I'm a Dom first and foremost here. The doctor side knows some things, but the Dom side knows others. That's what’s uppermost. And unless you want me to take you in
side and spank what I'm sure is a pretty pussy to those who swing that way, I suggest you remember a few of the basic rules I'm damned sure Master Caden taught you."

  She dropped her mug into the dog's water bowl. Dickens looked at her with reproach before he moved to stretch out well out of the line of another wetting. Anna could feel the heat rush to her face, and her fingers itched as she did her best not to put her hands to her hot cheeks.

  "Sorry, Sir." The salutation slipped out.

  Athol nodded and sat down again. "Okay, but I think we'll set some ground rules right now, Anna. Why did you ask about a psychiatrist?"

  She sighed. "Because I thought he—or she—might get to the bottom of my nightmares."

  "Anna, love, you don't need a psychiatrist. Not totally anyway. Tell me honestly, will you trust me as a friend first, a Dom second, and a shrink last? I warn you though; I'll open you up and wring you out. But at the end of it all, you'll know what you want and how to get it. It might not be what you hoped. Hell, you might not even chose to listen or take the way you should, but that'll be your choice."

  Anna turned his words over in her mind. She'd known he could help or why else ask for it? She picked up her notebook and opened it. "This is what I think."

  "Read it out." His tone brooked no arguments.

  She cleared her throat and took a deep breath.

  "What I like…"

  Chapter Fourteen

  When it got to the point he was checking his emails every hour, Cade knew he had to do something. Anna had only been gone a few weeks, and he was convinced he'd driven every one of her friends crazy, to say nothing of alienating them. True to her word, Anna had emailed twice each week, but a brief 'I'm fine' didn't hack it for him. He'd extracted promises from her friends that they didn't know where she was and they'd tell him if they heard from her. Not that he thought they necessarily would tell him unless it was an emergency. Although he applauded their loyalty, at the same time he despaired of it.

  He rubbed his hand over his chin. The stubble surprised him. How on earth had it got to that length? It was more scruffy than designer. Moodily, he opened his fridge door and looked at the contents. Three eggs, a cold sausage, and some limp lettuce leaves didn't make for an awe-inspiring view. He looked at the half full bottle of wine and sighed. Alcohol wasn't the answer. Anna was, and that was too bad. She wasn't there, and she might never be again. Somehow this leaving was so much worse than the last. Then it had been a shock, but his love of his work had carried him through. This time he couldn't dredge up any enthusiasm to supervise or tutor, let alone scene. Cade poured a glass of water and wandered into the lounge. After flicking through the TV Channels, he admitted defeat. Contrary to what he'd told Daisy, he needed company. He picked up his phone and pulled up her number. She answered his call so promptly he wondered if she'd had her phone in her hand.