Ghosts of Winter

by Rebecca S. Buck

  “Anna?” I hoped to begin on that process now.

  “Yes?” She adjusted the flame on the cooker as the water began to boil and did not turn to look at me.

  “Thank you.”

  “Stop thanking me, Ros. I’ve said it’s unnecessary.” She glanced at me and smiled slightly.

  “You don’t know what I’m thanking you for. I don’t mean for being my knight in shining armour and rescuing me. Or for cooking dinner for me.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No. I mean for not ignoring my calls in the end. For wanting to see me again.”

  Anna turned back to the pan of water, although it didn’t need her attention. She appeared to consider before she spoke. When she did, her words sounded like an effort. “Like I said, we couldn’t just leave it like that, Ros. Or I couldn’t anyway. You...you...make me feel...different. I couldn’t let it go.”

  “Different?” I picked up on the word eagerly. “Is that good or bad?”

  “If it was bad I wouldn’t have come to Winter to talk.”

  “No. So I make you feel good-different?”

  “Yes, you do.” Finally she looked me in the eye, and I felt the strength of the emotion she was having such difficulty explaining.

  “Different from what?” It was all very well having caused a change in her feelings, but I was hazy as to how she’d felt before anyway. Apart from that brief revelation in Durham, her fear of losing her freedom, I knew so little of her.

  I saw the tension come into her expression and worried I’d pushed too hard, too soon. But she didn’t look as though she resented it. Just as though she wasn’t sure what to say.

  “I’m sorry, Ros. I know it’s hypocritical after everything you’ve explained to me. But I don’t know how to tell you what I mean right now.” Her features softened and I saw her real affection for me there. My heart beat with yet more hope. “Just please know that you make me feel in a way I didn’t know I could. And that it frightens me.”

  The tone of her last words forbade further questioning. Besides, what questions could I ask? She’d already told me she didn’t know how to explain it. “I don’t want you to be frightened, Anna,” I said.

  “I know. It’s my problem, Ros, not yours. We will talk about it. But not now. Now I want to concentrate on our dinner.”

  I let her take that route out of the conversation. We’d made some progress and both of us were tired after the night in the hospital. I was elated to hear I made her feel “different” since it seemed to be a change she welcomed. She’d changed me too, already. I looked forward to the coming days, the chance to explore the way we felt further.

  Anna’s food was as delicious as it sounded and she made the process of cooking it look remarkably easy for someone who claimed to be only an average cook. Soon after we had eaten, I began to feel drowsy, but fought the heaviness in my eyelids, not wanting to lose one moment of my time with Anna.

  “Why don’t you sleep now?” she asked, when she noticed me trying to blink the sleep away.

  “I want to stay awake and talk to you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” She laughed gently. “I’m going to help you into bed.”

  “If you must.”

  “I must.” She got to her feet, offered me her hand to help me rise onto my one good foot, and wrapped her arm around my shoulders to assist me in hopping the few feet to the bed. Once I was perched on the edge she helped me remove the flowing skirt she’d selected from my small collection of clothes because it fitted easily over the plaster cast on my leg.

  “I kind of thought the next time you undressed me it would be different to this,” I said.

  “Oh, but think how much better it will be because you’ve had to wait.”

  “Is that a promise?” I was delighted she’d not just passed over my suggestive comment. Her words were the strongest confirmation I’d had so far of the direction she wanted our relationship to progress in. I felt a rush of relief, quickly followed by a nagging trepidation. This was a path I’d been terrified of taking just a few months ago. I couldn’t help a flutter of nervous tension I did my best to mask.

  “Of course,” Anna replied, as though there had never been any question. “Lie down.”

  I did as she said, and allowed her to pull the blanket over me. “I’m going to sleep here, on your camping bed,” she told me. I was too tired and grateful to argue. She leaned closer to me. “And this,” she said, “is a taste of what’s to come, when you feel better.” Her hand caressed my cheek as she pressed her lips lightly to mine. Her kiss was tender as it deepened, her lips parting and her tongue stroking over my own. My body, broken though it was, responded quickly and hotly to the kiss. I reached up with my good hand and grasped the back of her neck, pulling her closer, pushing my tongue into her mouth. Her kiss banished every doubt from my mind in those moments.

  “I want you so bad,” I whispered into her mouth, pulling back just a little. The way she returned her mouth to mine left me in no doubt the feeling was mutual.

  “When you feel better you can show me,” she said when our lips parted.

  I groaned at the lascivious expression on her face. If my ribs hadn’t been aching already, I’d have pulled her down on top of me, broken bones or not. “I think you should sleep now,” she told me.

  “Do you really think I will after that?”

  “Yes, and I think you’ll have the pleasure of some very interesting dreams.”

  “I’m sure I will.” I sighed. “Okay, you’re right. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Ros.” She bent to kiss my forehead, as my eyelids began to close. “Sleep well.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Repair of the floor—and the ceiling I’d plummeted through—was well underway when I awoke the next morning, in my own bed in Winter. There was no question of anyone being to blame for my accident, except myself, since the danger area had been clearly marked off by the tape, and as I recalled now, one of the workmen had warned me about an area of the floor he considered to be unsafe. I’d just not listened properly.

  I spent the day in bed, propped up by pillows, while Anna took care of both my needs, and those of the workers. One moment I watched her making cups of tea and coffee, and the next she was finding her plans for the renovation and becoming the professional architect as she went to consult with the builders. She was extraordinary. I was very happy and grateful she was with me, not only because I was practically helpless, but also because the renovation of Winter progressed remarkably in the few days that she was constantly there. A few times I wondered if her lingering in the house with me was entirely for my benefit, or if she had become so devoted to the restoration of Winter’s glory that she simply wanted to be at the house all the time.

  Anna stayed overnight with me for three days. My bruised elbow mended quickly over that time, which made it possible for me to begin to balance on the crutches, at least as far as the bathroom, about the farthest I could make it before the pain in my ribs became too much to bear. I was glad of the greater degree of independence and told Anna I’d be fine if she went home, at least at night. Whatever was happening between us, I was viewing our reunion after my accident as a fresh start, a more honest and open beginning. I didn’t want the early days of our new relationship to be based on her caring for me, helping me walk to the bathroom, and cooking my meals. I wanted to retain some sense of mystery and glamour, for a short while at least. She tried to protest, but I was insistent. I satisfied her concerns by calling Maggie Potter, telling her what had happened to me, and securing her promise to call in on me the next day. Reassured, Anna left in the late afternoon, bound first for her neglected office and then home, with a lingering kiss that almost made me pull her back inside.

  As I reflected on everything that had happened over the last few days, my first thought was that I was very glad indeed to be alive. Life was finally something to enjoy again, and I hadn’t needed to fall through a ceiling to bring that feeling home to me.
But the picture wasn’t quite complete. I knew all too well what the missing piece was. Anna. She was part of my day-to-day life now, and I was getting to know her on a far more relaxed basis than I had up to this point. Everything about her stirred emotions in me, tender and lustful, amused and trusting. I wanted her, there was no doubt in my mind about that.

  At the same time though, there was so much unspoken between us. She knew my story but I did not know hers. She said she was frightened, but of what? Was she experiencing those kinds of doubts about commitment now? Was that the cause of the distance that remained between us? How did she feel “different” from before? Why did she feel that way? I had more questions than answers where Anna was concerned.

  If that distance was erased would I now be strong enough in myself to be able to deal with the intensity of a full relationship? I was happier and had a far better sense of myself than I’d had for years. I had Winter as a solid and hopeful presence in my life. But relationships involved being able to give some of yourself, to be able to compromise, to take on elements of another person’s self as part of your own existence. Was I ready for that? Would Anna be prepared to give it to me? I’d thrown her invitation to trust back at her once. What if she wouldn’t go there again?

  I looked forward with undeniable excitement to seeing her again, but I couldn’t help the mounting tension, deep down. Just how did Anna and I, seeing each other every day as she tended to my invalid’s needs and to my ramshackle house, advance any further in our relationship if we were both afraid of where that next step would take us?

  *

  Anna came to Winter daily for the next two weeks, to check how I was coping, and to have some personal input into the renovation. The more times I saw her, kissed her hello and goodbye, the more I wanted to touch her. Every look we exchanged contained the promise of what we could share. Her kisses were satisfying and teasing all at once. The slight touches of her hands were never enough. I smelled tantalising traces of the sweet spice of her scent in every room.

  Moreover, I sensed Anna’s desires were equally frustrated. I hoped they were. I contemplated her desire often, as I watched her. Did she want me as much as I wanted her? There was a pink flush on her cheeks and a spark in her eye, which made her ever more beautiful. Every kiss and embrace we shared left us both breathing hard. I was convinced she desired me, there seemed to be evidence enough. Knowing she reacted that way to me made me feel more confident about our relationship, and my mind knew no rest from thoughts of Anna. Just watching her walk across the hallway, jacket off and shirt sleeves rolled up, brushing her hair back behind her ear, or biting her nail as she bent over her plans, could make my heart pound. But how on earth did we go about acting on it?

  The connection and the attraction between us were undeniable. Yet the more I desired her—that desire increased by frustration—the more I grew anxious. What if all of this longing and teasing came to nothing because neither of us ever took that next brave step? I couldn’t stop pondering the situation and trying to find answers. Was she keeping her distance—both physically and emotionally—to protect me? Had she taken my point that awful morning and come to the conclusion I was too vulnerable for more than flirting and kissing? Or was she nervous of any further entanglement with me for herself? Already open about her uneasiness with commitment, my own uncertainties and outright rejection of her would not have soothed her concerns. Was that the root of her fear? We needed to talk, as she had acknowledged herself. But it was a difficult conversation to know how to start.

  The more I watched Anna, the more kisses we shared, I knew I had to get closer to her. My desire grew unbearable to the point it was beginning to eclipse some of my concerns. I knew that could be a mistake, but craving Anna became all consuming and made me prepared to take risks. I couldn’t help but think intimacy with her might propel us forward before either of us realised we’d taken the step. She was too tough to resist anyway. Initially my cracked ribs were prohibitive, but after about a week and a half of gazing at her and wanting her, the urge was too much. In tightly tailored grey trousers, long jacket, and a white shirt which accentuated the pink of her skin, she bustled around the house with a determined look in her eye, and there was no way I could watch her and resist her any longer. And so, I devised a strategy.

  I was already on my feet when she came to check I had everything I needed, and made a feeble attempt to trap her against the wall of the Blue Drawing Room with my crutches. Admittedly, the attempt would have failed had she not co-operated. Emboldened, I pressed myself to her, kissing her hard with all of my pent-up desire. Relief washed through me when she met my kisses with enthusiasm, and I began to burn with arousal for her. From the way her hands rapidly slid under my clothes to explore my skin, I knew finally her frustration matched mine, and I kissed her harder. I wobbled on my one good leg, and she pulled back gently. “I’m not sure this is safe.”

  “I don’t care,” I gasped, unable to bear it any longer.

  “I don’t want to have to take you back to the hospital and explain how I damaged you.”

  “I’m not that fragile.”

  “But your ribs…”

  “I don’t care about my bloody ribs! God, Anna, I want you. You drive me crazy. If you don’t let me have you, I’ll do myself a real injury when I spontaneously combust!”

  “Do you think you might be overreacting slightly?” She wanted to smile, I could see it, though her mouth barely twitched.

  “No, I don’t. Kiss me, please.” She still hesitated slightly. “Please, Anna, I need you.”

  Anna did as I asked, moving her lips lightly and teasingly over mine. I didn’t miss the sparkle in her eyes or the lust that crept into her expression. “Hmm, are you begging me?”

  Heat pulsed through me at the hungry way she was looking at me. I smiled and licked my lips. “Yes, I am. I want you, Anna, please, come to bed with me. Now.”

  “It’s the middle of the day.”

  “Who cares?”

  “I might not be responsible for my actions.”

  “Good.”

  Our progress towards the bed was awkward and faltering, and it proved impossible to undress and walk with crutches at the same time, though we tried. Eventually, I was sitting on the bed as Anna pulled my top over my head. I watched as she removed her tailored jacket and began to loosen the buttons of her shirt. Every layer she peeled away revealed a different aspect of her. The perfectly cut jacket made her imposing and professional. With it removed, in her shirt sleeves, she took on a more practical, solid appearance. As she unfastened the buttons and revealed her pink skin and plain bra, the barriers collapsed too, and she lost all the traces that made her intimidating and became purely sensual, a faint blush spreading over her chest and reaching the gentle swell of her breasts. I watched as she reached behind her back to unfasten the bra and let it drop to the floor. Her nipples hardened with the touch of the air, and I felt sweat prickling all over my skin. I was able to enjoy the wonderful spectacle of her nakedness in all of its detail this time, not so blinded by the sheer excitement of our first night together, and I watched her hands as she unzipped her trousers and stepped out of them.

  She approached me as I sat, entranced by her and largely helpless to move anyway. She bent to kiss me and her firm nipples brushed against mine as the kiss grew more intense. I pulled her towards me, tried to urge her on top of me, but she resisted.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered.

  “You won’t.”

  “I’m not taking any risks.” She slid her hand underneath the hem of the long denim skirt I was wearing and rubbed up my calf to the inside of my knee.

  I groaned with pleasure and anticipation. “God, I want you, Anna.”

  Her hand stopped and she kissed me lightly, before pulling back, her eyes full of light. “Are you sure?”

  “For God’s sake, please.” She ran her hand a little higher along the inside of my thigh, and I felt the electric intensity shoot from t
he place she touched to gather low in my abdomen. She paused again.

  “You really want me to?”

  “Anna, please.” I gritted my teeth. This time her hand made it all the way to rub over the cotton of my underwear. “Off, take them off.” I endured her doing so with excruciating slowness, a knowing smile on her lips.

  She traced her fingers over her previous path all the way up the inside of my thigh, but more quickly this time. Her lips made soft, moist contact with mine just as her fingers reached my centre, and I moaned into her mouth with the relief of her touch.

  “You’re so wet for me, Ros.” She pushed her mouth back against mine. Her fingers were exploring, teasing, stroking, and I pushed my hips towards her to increase the pressure, running my other hand over the smooth skin of her back. I pulled my lips away from hers to kiss her jawline, her throat, and the soft flesh of her breasts, and heard her breathing deepen. I ran my tongue up the muscle at the side of her neck and grasped her hair to pull her ear to my mouth, so that my breath caressed her there.

  “Fuck me, Anna, I want you inside me.” She moaned, a deep, feral sound, and her fingers slid lower, teasing still.

  “Ask me again.” She kissed my open mouth. I breathed in the air she exhaled and let the anticipation take me over.

  “Please fuck me, Anna. I need you to—” My words evaporated as she did exactly as I asked and slid her fingers into me. I drew in a deep breath and pressed my forehead to hers, and gazed deeply into her eyes.

  “God, Ros,” she moaned against my lips, her breath coming harder and faster.

  “I’ve never wanted anyone so much, Anna.” She slipped her fingers virtually out of me and then drove them back in powerfully. I rocked my hips with the movements of her hand and pushed my mouth back onto hers. I gave myself up entirely to the heat of her mouth, the slide of her tongue over mine, and the wonderful stretch of her fingers inside me, the way she skilfully caressed my most sensitive spot with her thumb. I knew I was digging my fingers into her shoulders as I felt the pressure building between my hips. I threw my head back and felt her mouth on my throat, knew the caress of her teeth there had left a mark. Then there was nothing but dizzying intensity, as all of the sensations became one and found their focus where her hand continued to move, meeting there and exploding so powerfully tears came into my eyes, and I couldn’t see as I cried out loud.