Master

by Raven McAllan

  And she did want to. Anna knew that. These last weeks had been hard going. Athol had been a kind but determined taskmaster. For several days they hadn't mentioned her issues, and then slowly they had started to talk. Today had been the start of phase two as Athol had called it.

  "Storming the castle and winning the war takes time and planning," he'd said one morning as they walked along the coastal path. "I'm in no hurry, and I'm a strategist. We'll get there in our own good time and at the pace best suited to us. Like now. As long as we get to the pub for lunch, we're doing fine." Anna had laughed and increased her pace. Now Athol had increased it.

  On an impulse Anna kissed Athol on the cheek. "Take that now, because I bet I won't feel like kissing you much for a while." She turned to walk out of the room. She'd had enough of artificial light. She wanted sunshine and proper warmth.

  "You're probably right. So, before we leave?"

  Anna looked round at him. "Yeah?"

  His eyes twinkled with what she could only describe as wicked mischief—and something deeper than that. It's his Dom look. I've a feeling I'm not going to like this.

  "Ditch the knicks. And the bra. Wear that floaty sundress."

  "You what?" It was one thing wandering around the house like that when she was with Cade, but here?

  "You heard. And hope it's not windy."

  It wasn't just the wind she was bothered about. Anna muttered as she went into her bedroom and did as Athol had demanded. He was testing her; she knew that, but did she want to be tested? Was it an exam in her curriculum to get an A in going bare-assed naked in the street? Or was it a something and nothing that she didn't feel strongly about one way or another? The sundress was short, and she'd need a lot of grace and decorum to not bare her all. Since her first session at the waxing salon, Anna had continued to depilate, but she wasn't sure she wanted the entire village to know that. But, she reasoned, she liked the feel of no underwear, so why was she standing here muttering about arrogant Doms and bloody men? With a snigger Anna checked her appearance in the mirror. Yeah, she'd need to remember good posture, and pray for no errant gusts of wind. That thought sent another snigger off. She needed to get her mind out of the gutter.

  As she slipped her feet into her flip-flops she was thankful there had been no discussion about footwear. At least in flatties there was less chance of her tripping up.

  The sun was still warm, but she picked up a pashmina for when it went down. If they were going to sit in the garden, she might need it. As she waited for Athol to appear, Anna wondered what was going to happen next. Now that the elephant in the closet was out in the open, she was under no illusions that Athol was prepared to let things ride. She was right. He wasn't.

  "So," he said as they walked down the lane. "You think that Cade shouldn't want to scene?"

  "Yes, no, oh hell." Anna wiped her clammy hands over the dress of her skirt. "It's not that exactly. It's more that I can't understand why he's happy to do stuff when other people can see. I love him, Athol. He's the core of my world. He can make me fly, and it's perfect. But it's personal."

  "Uh-huh." They'd reached the pub, and Athol opened the gate to the garden. "Grab that table by the wall and sit facing the garden. I'll grab some menus." He disappeared inside without saying anything else. Anna weaved her way through the tables to the one he'd indicated. It was late in the year for many tourists to be out and about, and the air held a hint of autumn. However, the pub used patio heaters, and the low wall around the garden kept the breeze down to an acceptable level. She was glad of her pashmina though. The sundress might be pretty, but it wasn't exactly a coverall.

  Athol came back with two glasses, a bottle of wine in a cooler, and a menu under his arm. "I ordered your favorite and brought it out so we can have a drink whilst we decide. Though I'm guessing you already have?"

  Anna nodded. "Yup, I don't need the menu." She smiled up at the waitress who'd followed Athol with cutlery and condiments. "Mussels and then steak please, medium rare."

  Athol shut the menu. "Can you make that two, please?"

  Once the waitress had gone he poured the wine. "So no scening for you. Was that not acceptable to Cade?"

  Anna swirled the liquid around in her glass. It slid down the sides and created wavy patterns. "He said it was, but, Athol, he loved it. The club was his baby. He lit up when he went there. I was such a disappointment. I felt sick when we got near. I'd be sick when I went inside, and I'd need to shower after a scene to scrub the scent of the club away. I felt dirty. Argh, that sounds awful. I don't mean it's bad, but it made me feel as if I'd done something wrong. Coming and knowing other people saw it. You see one of the things he'd said to me right at the beginning was my orgasm belonged to him. Well, it didn't, did it? Because he was sharing it with strangers."

  "You gave it to him though. It was a gift, yes?"

  "Well, yes." Anna had no idea what he implied.

  "So it was his. To do with as he chose. And he chose to share it. Something so beautiful and precious, that he decided it was unfair to keep it all to himself. You don't give a gift with conditions, Anna. You give it freely."

  She'd never thought about it like that.

  "But then if you respect and honor your gift, you don't give it away. In my book that means you don't share it. I gave it to him and him alone."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cade stood and stretched. His back ached, and his hands were covered in scratches, but the garden looked tidy, and the bonfire of leaves and debris was blazing away safely in a corner. After sitting at his computer for eight hours a day for more days than he could remember, he'd woken up that morning and decided he needed to do physical work. Good manual labor. He'd put on his oldest jeans and a disreputable t-shirt that should have been in the ragbag years ago and headed for the jungle laughingly called a walled garden. There he got down on his knees and did battle with the weeds. Now, several hours later, as he looked around at the almost tidy plot, he felt a great sense of satisfaction. He'd achieved something. Sadly not to do with his wife, but satisfying nonetheless.

  His life had turned upside down, and apart from the niggle of doubt that Anna may have decided enough was enough, he was enjoying it all.

  As he put his tools away in the garden shed and tamped down the bonfire, Cade mused over the previous few weeks. The handover of the club to Daisy and Marco was almost complete and his office all but emptied of all the clutter he'd built up over the years. His bag of toys had been banished to the top shelf of a tall cupboard in the playroom at home, and to his amazement, the pangs of sorrow he'd felt were lighter and almost unfelt. He'd even started to dismantle some of his equipment. If—no, when—Anna returned, Cade was determined to show her what he'd done. And come hell or high water be happy about it. Marco and Daisy had cautioned him to take his time and think everything through.

  "You don't want to regret it later, Cade," Marco had said. "BDSM is part of you. You can't turn those feelings and needs off like a tap however much you wish you could. Did you both ever really speak about why and what you need?"

  Cade had shaken his head. "I wish, but you can't get through to a closed mind, Marco. Anna had gone past the point of talking. Hell, she'd gone full stop, before I even noticed we'd got anywhere near." He grimaced. "My fault entirely. When we got back together again, hell, you know what happened as well as I do. She was fine one minute and not the next. Before you ask, there were no signs at all when we played. She's one of the most responsive people I know. We were even talking about scening at the club and," he'd stopped speaking. "Oh fucking shite and hell. Scening, that's bloody it." He'd stared at Daisy and Marco. "We talked about scening. I said how I enjoyed showing her beautiful body and her responsiveness. Nothing else and only in general terms, and that must be the trigger."

  Cade had hit the table in front of him with a fist. "That's it, that's the catalyst. Oh jeez." And until she opened to him there was nothing he could do about it. For once instead of mulling it over in his mind a
nd giving himself a headache, he accepted it was as it was and threw himself into his writing.

  Several days later, his book was half written, and he'd sent the first three chapters for consideration to a publisher. The welcome email of ‘yes, please, we are very interested’, less than a week after had been a complete and very much appreciated surprise. It had been his spur to do something different for the day before he got stuck in and finished it. He now almost had a freshly turned vegetable plot and an ache between his shoulder blades. He'd learned things about himself as he wrote, things he hadn't realized he thought. It had made him take a long, hard look at himself, and Cade realized he wasn't too keen on everything he saw.

  After a final look round the garden, he made his way inside. He pondered on his soul searching over the garden fork. There were a lot of things that he hoped he would have a chance to share with Anna. However much he wanted it to be different, Cade knew he had to wait to let her make the first move. As hard as it had been, he'd not tried to find her and had honored her request to let her sort herself out. It was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done and went against all his nurturing instincts.

  Once he'd showered away the fruits of his labors, Cade made a pot of coffee and wandered into the study. The room called to him in a way that gave him a quiet sense of satisfaction. Even though he might have left one part of his life behind, he was hopeful this new phase would be equally rewarding. He banished the tiny niggle of doubt at how ruthlessly he'd cut things. If Anna did come home he wanted to show her he didn't need the club or what happened within its walls. Or at home? He ignored the wayward thought. If it took that to keep Anna, so be it.

  He put his mug on a shelf a good distance away from the computer and looked around. As ever the room worked its magic on his nerves. Cade switched on his computer and opened his emails. Absently he reached for his mug and smelled the rich coffee aroma. He stopped with the mug halfway to his mouth, and with none of his usual care put it down next to the keyboard.

  Even just seeing her name made his cock throb. Oh shit, I still have it bad. He could only hope it was more than her usual two words. His fingers slipped off the mouse as he went to click to open it, and Cade swore. It was stupid, but he couldn't stop the tremble that went through him. Every time he thought he should be due an email he worried that it wouldn't appear. Which he acknowledged was stupid, because if he knew anything it was that Anna kept her word.

  He wiped his hands on his jeans, took a mouthful of coffee, and opened Anna's email. How he didn't tip the contents of his mug all over himself he had no idea. Or spit the liquid in his mouth all over the keyboard. He put the mug back on the shelf away from danger and away from all things electrical before he enlarged the message. He hadn't read it wrong. There were considerably more than two words. Oh it started, 'I'm fine.' But then Anna had continued, Caden, I do love you so. Soon, love, I hope we'll be together. There won't be an email for the next week or so. Sorry, but there's a valid reason. One day I'll tell you what it is. Please trust me. I hope it won't all be too late. Cade scrubbed his cheeks and was surprised to feel they were damp. How could she think that it could be too late? As he did every time he received an email from Anna, he sat down to type his chatty—and he hoped welcome—reply. He never knew if she read it, because Anna never mentioned it. Well, she'd be hard pressed to when her emails were I'm fine.

  He opened up his manuscript and continued his journey into the past.

  It was hard, harder than Cade imagined anything could be, to respect her silence and not bombard her with emails. Especially after her last one. But he did it—just. Three weeks later as he refreshed his inbox for the umpteenth time and checked that once again there was no email from Anna his phone rang. Cussing, Cade checked caller display and growled at the Pavlovian effect the ringing of his phone had. Why the hell hadn't he switched it and the Internet off?

  Because I'm expecting some sort of communication from Anna. It had been a barren three weeks, and Cade admitted he was getting anxious.

  Daisy. That was fine, if it had been yet another "can I ask if you own your own home", or “do you want double glazing" he'd have likely expanded the caller's repertoire of epithets.

  "Cade, love, I need your help on Tuesday." Daisy's words couldn't have been more unwelcome, but he'd never have told her so. Just because they made him feel sick was no reason to let her know.

  "Hi, Daisy, what's cooking apart from the bun?"

  She laughed. It had been Marco who had christened her bump Bunny, which they'd soon shortened to bun. Most people thought it came from … in the oven. It didn't. Cade was rather pleased they'd let him in on the joke.

  "Can you demonstrate for us?"

  They were the words he'd been dreading to hear.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Anna felt more settled than she had in ages. Athol and she had talked and argued until the pub called last orders and then wandered home arm in arm. As she tripped over nothing, and sniggered, Anna wasn't sure how much alcohol she'd had, apart from too much. She'd definitely had one glass of wine too many. Surely there hadn't been three blue doors on the boathouse when they went to the pub?

  As they got to the front of the house she turned into the garden and looked across the river to the docks and the couple of boats tied up there.

  "I'm going to sit and watch the water," she said and turned in a circle with her arms in the air. "Oops! Am I baring my all?" She giggled. "Don't want to do that. Though you're not interested and Caden wants to share it. I'm not for sharing, none of me, not one little bit." Athol followed her and pushed her into a chair.

  "You're squiffy, love, and I don't want your head or parrot cage mouth tomorrow. Sit there, commune with nature, and let me make some coffee. Do not move, I'll be right back. What do you say?"

  "Hmm, you sound all Dommy… But I don't want a Dom unless it's Cade and he doesn't want me unless I'll share. And you know what?" She stood up and poked Athol in the chest. "This lady ain't for sharing. Oh no, not me. See if he's mine, he's mine." She nodded, pleased with herself for admitting what she'd known all along. Not one little bit, not eve." Anna hiccoughed. "Even with the club thingy whatsit. He's mine, and I'm gonna tell him. Where is he?" She looked around and the panorama spun. That was strange. Anna was sure it shouldn't move. "Wass the earth dooo…Oh shoot, I'm drunk." She sat back down into the chair with a thump. "I think I need my bed, even if it's all alone, eh? Do you feel like that, Athol? No one to cuddle, but better than the wrong one?" She stared. Now there were two Athols. Maybe they'd keep each other company. With that thought, Anna knew she needed to go to bed. "I've got to lie down, now."

  "I think you do. Come on, drunken-bum, let's get you into bed and leave a bucket handy."

  Oh how she hoped she didn't need the bucket. She didn't, but when she woke up after a night of weird dreams and thoughts, Anna decided she'd never again drink more than a single glass of wine in a day.

  The knock on her bedroom door sounded more like Big Ben chiming midnight on New Year's Eve, and Athol's cheery, "Rise and shine, here's coffee and a paracetamol," sounded like an overloud commentator at the Grand National.

  "Shh, or go away. You've corrupted me. I don't drink." She pulled the duvet over her head. "Let me die in peace."

  Athol pulled the cover back with what Anna considered way too much force. "Anna, love, you had three small glasses of wine, that's all. You're just a lightweight. And angst and baring your all, including your soul, has a way of affecting your alcohol intake in an adverse way. You get so relaxed it goes straight to your bloodstream and woof…" He put the cup on the table. Even that little noise made Anna wince.

  "No woofing, no nothing, like I said, let me die in peace." He'd been right about the parrot cage mouth. Anna wanted a whole tube of toothpaste and a mouthwash there and then. Though she guessed coffee would do until she made it to the bathroom.

  "Nope, we're going to have visitors in ohh about an hour, so get your butt out of bed and stic
k it and the rest of you under the shower. Then I'll fix you a nice bacon butty, that'll sort you out."

  "Be the last straw, no doubt." However, Anna sat up gingerly and almost rolled her eyes as he handed her the mug of steaming coffee and wrapped her hands around it. As she had a feeling if she did roll her eyes, her stomach would mimic that action, Anna contented herself with a grimace and a slurp of coffee so hot it nearly took the inside of her mouth off.

  "Bloody hell, you trying to kill me ‘cause the booze didn't?"

  "Fifty odd minutes and counting. Move, woman." Athol left the room whistling. At least he didn't bang the door shut.

  ****

  Twenty minutes later, Anna brushed her wet hair back from her face—she decided the noise of the drier would be one noise too much—and joined Athol in the kitchen. True to his word the bacon was sizzling and contrary to what she thought might happen, her tummy rumbled. Athol lifted the grill pan, made two sandwiches and handed her one.

  "Eat."

  Anna nodded. The rich flavor of the bacon, and the chunky homemade bread were as good as any five-star meal. If she hadn't been so busy chewing she'd’ve said so. Instead she concentrated on the simple food until all that was left was the grease on her fingers. She licked them one by one and giggled at Athol's speculative look.

  "Yeah, so sue me, because I love licking stuff off my fing … oh fuck."

  His laugh echoed round the tiny room.

  "You're a shit, Athol. You know what I mean."

  "Oh do I ever, love. No, don't wave your knife at me, we've got visitors due, and I don't want them to find me in a crying heap on the floor. I don't do blood. In fact," he glanced out of the window. "I reckon they're early. Stay here, I'll go and let them in." He disappeared out of the room.

  Anna looked out of the window to try to see who was at the door, but the small porch roof blocked her view. She contented herself with washing the plates up, refilling the kettle, and switching it on. It was almost a given that any friends of either of them would be always ready for a caffeine intake.