Shades of Trust

by Cristiane Serruya

  Sophia heard her name being shouted all around her. On one side of the widening crack, Gabriel and Ethan were chained to a wall, and on the other side, Alistair. They were shouting and pleading as the flames got closer to them.

  She didn’t think twice; she jumped as Uó cackled with evil glee.

  When she looked up, Gabriel, Ethan, and Alistair had morphed into demons, their arms flapping as black wings and they dived after her.

  Screaming, Sophia fell and the jaws of hell closed above her.

  Alistair had been trying to wake a thrashing Sophia for a few seconds when she pushed him away hard and bolted up on the bed.

  Her hands flew to her head, and with her eyes glazed wide, she screamed.

  She screamed until her breath was gone and her throat was raw. Feeling empty, tiredness came over her. Her shoulders hunched and her head dropped as she gulped air in great, deep breaths.

  Alistair pulled her into his arms murmuring soothing words. She was trembling like a leaf in the wind but the big crash he was expecting didn’t come. It was stuck inside her, imprisoning her in guilt. A guilt he knew too well. She had to vomit it out.

  Sophia had healed him. She had soothed the beast that was eating his insides and had cauterized what remained of his wounds. Now, he would do the same for her. With love and patience.

  Open Pandora’s box and face your demons, Sophia. “Do you want a glass of water?”

  She nodded and put her forehead on her knees, breathing slowly, in and out. What is this place where I have to kill myself and the ones I love?

  “Here, mo gràdh. Drink,” he whispered, sitting by her on the edge of the bed. “Want to talk about the nightmare?”

  “Thanks.” She accepted the glass, drinking the water in great gulps as she looked around the room, before facing him. “Why was I chosen to receive so many graces?” All this wealth cost me so much, so many loved ones, that some would think it a disgrace.

  “Why?” He frowned at her question, struggling to hear her inner monologue. He didn’t have her years of therapy, but he had learned much from her and from Dr. Volk in the last year. She was asking something completely different. “Why not? You are less responsible for them than you wish to be.”

  Her haunted eyes sought his. “So, all I have to do is free myself.”

  All? And you think it will be easy? He raised his ink-black eyebrows. Her eyes were no longer that mix of yellow and brown. They were dim and dark brown. “I guess, sweetheart, that to be free, one has to speak the truth. Are you willing to?” Open up, Sophia.

  Lord Veritas-vos-liberabit. “Maybe.” She sighed and put the glass on the bedside table. “Once you’ve been in hell, you have a much greater appreciation of Heaven.”

  “Beautiful. But you’re speaking in riddles.” His knuckles caressed her cheek. “The truth is not a riddle. The truth can be unwoven slowly. It waits until you’re ready. It may hurt, but it doesn’t devour you if you answer wrongly. What is devouring you, my love?”

  You can’t even start to imagine. “The fantasy…” feeling too powerful. “The power…” using it wrongly. “The knowledge…” of everything I’ve done wrong, it’s too much. “Sometimes, it’s too heavy a burden to carry alone.”

  “So, share it. I’m here to share life with you. Past, present, and future.” Why are you boycotting us? Why are you thinking only about the bad moments?

  Reminders of those last days whispered and whispered in her head. I’ve studied so hard, learned so many languages, and have so many material things. What for? “How much of a failure am I?”

  Her head itched. Fighting against the physical and psychological pain, Sophia fisted her hands. She hardly cared when her nails dug into her skin. She wanted to rip the memories out of her mind just as she wanted to rip off the bandages.

  A failure? He looked at her, astonished. “You’re not a failure, sweetheart. Never could you be. This is a fantasy. You have to deconstruct it.”

  She breathed out a shuddering sigh.

  “Sophia, look at me,” he asked. When she lifted her eyelids, he said to her, “We are just human. We are less powerful than we idealize and we are much more powerful than we realize.”

  Chapter 8

  In the Game Room

  Saturday, April 2, 2011

  1:43 p.m.

  “And Alberto?” Felipe asked, his hands entwining together as if he were suffocating Alberto’s neck between them.

  Alistair paced the length of the Game Room, checking if Sophia was still sitting on the bench looking at the kids playing. Carolina, Alice, and Domitila had just arrived from their walk and were chatting with her, Angelica, Elena, and the twins. “It’s as if he’s disappeared into thin air. Isabel informed me he checked-out from his hotel the day Sophia was kidnapped.”

  “Have the Brazilian police already been informed?”

  He turned to look at the five men sitting on the sofas and armchairs. Tavish, Lachlann, Felipe, Leonard, and even Alexander were gathered together. Alistair marveled at how Sophia and he had such a devoted and loving family. He walked back thoughtfully. “Aye. But Isabel doesn’t believe he has left the UK yet.”

  “So how are we supposed to keep her safe?” asked Felipe.

  “The security all around Craigdale has been reinforced,” said Lachlann.

  “The last guests depart today. We are closing the resort while he is still at large and—” Alistair snapped his mouth shut as he saw Tavish stand up and his lips working for a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  He turned to see Sophia walking up to them. Oh, fuck.

  They all fell into an awkward silence.

  “Quick,” she sneered. “Change the subject. She’s back in the room.”

  “Sophia, it’s not like that,” Felipe soothed, rising from his armchair too.

  No. It never is, is it? So how is it? Her face contorted as if she was going to cry. Alistair stepped in her direction but stopped when she raised her palm. “Who is at large? What are you not telling me?”

  Christ! “Sophia. We just doona want you to worry. We know what you’re going through—”

  How? How can you think you know? She looked open-mouthed at Alistair for a moment before she exploded. Pointing a trembling finger at him, she screamed with rage, “You’ve been lying! You don’t know anything. And neither do you.” She spat the words at Felipe, when she saw her brother stepping in her direction. She backed away from them, breathing heavily. At the door, she shook her head, hissing, “You have no idea.”

  She broke into a run, leaving all of them looking at her back.

  Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a long, tortured breath as he stepped outside seeing her pass the hothouse. Felipe walked with him after her, followed by Tavish and Lachlann.

  “She is right, ye know? None of us know what she’s going through.” Tavish said calmly as he stepped in front of Alistair and Felipe. But his stance was tense when he raised his arms to block them. He looked over his shoulder at Sophia as she ran away. He swung his turbulent gaze back to the men with an understanding that neither of them had. “And it’s no’ very nice of us to keep her in the dark. We are underestimating the brilliant woman she is by treating her like a child.”

  “We can’t let her run away like this. She is no’ dressed for the weather. She is sick—”

  Lachlann put a hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “She is not sick. She is pregnant and under a great amount of stress. That was just hormones. Blowing off some steam will do her good. She’ll come back.”

  Alistair didn’t answer.

  He stood there watching her run; run away from him.

  He knew his wife. He knew she didn’t like lies. He was afraid he had pushed her too far.

  Uneasiness crept through Alistair’s spine and settled on his shoulders. If she doesn’t return in half-an-hour, I’ll go after her.

  In the center of the maze, Under a cherry tree

  2:31 p.m.

  Sophia could barely brea
the from the sheer effort of it, and she sank to the ground, wishing it would open up and take her, once and for all, as in the nightmare.

  She hated that Alistair had stopped talking as if she were unable to deal with the facts. That’s not fair. They are just trying to protect me.

  She looked up at the sky, angry at herself for being so unbalanced that he felt the need to lie to her and yet, so frail that she could understand him so well. Scattered clouds were lazily trailing by. She felt as if nature were forming a little nest to hide and protect her inside the tall maze.

  She welcomed the peace, but at the same time, she also wanted to scream, to shout, and to destroy something. She could almost hear Dr. Kent say that her duality was a most natural reaction to a situation like the one she was going through.

  Without a drop of humor, she laughed and whispered to a hummingbird that was tasting the flowers, “We humans are such complicated and confused beings that we call the animals beasts.”

  A draft of air swirled around her, thick with moisture and the crisp spring scents of the Highlands.

  Warmed by the soft sun and lulled by the birds’ chirping, Sophia drifted slowly to a deep sleep.

  3:24 p.m.

  “Have you found her?” Alistair inquired over the intercom, as he checked again with each security guard. There was no sign of Sophia and the sky was getting darker and cloudier with every passing minute.

  She couldn’t have left Craigdale since she was on foot, but the property covered acres and acres comprising the loch, the beach, the farmland, and the woodland. Security cameras covered some of it, but Sophia appeared in none of them.

  Something could have happened to her. He marched out of the room and almost crashed into Leonard as he came in. “I’m going to look for her.”

  Leonard peered at his watch. “Well. She could be on her way back to the house already. Why don’t you give her a little more time?”

  Because I’m freaking out. “Nae. You stay. Father is heading out with Felipe to the loch and to the gardens. I’m going east and Tavish Uilleam and Alexander to the west. We’ll be on the radio, channel seven.”

  “Alistair,” Leonard looked worriedly at his brother-in-law’s taut face. “Aren’t you making this a bigger problem than it really is?”

  If you’d been through what I have, you would understand. “Leo, you may be right, you may be right.” But I don’t give a fuck.

  4:12 p.m.

  He galloped through Sequoia Alley shouting Sophia’s name.

  “She is not by the lake,” informed Felipe by the radio. “Lachlann is driving around once more just to make sure.”

  “Tavish Uilleam?” Alistair asked.

  Tavish also replied negatively and said that the western area was larger and the Land Rover could only cover the area up to the woodlands. The rest would have to be done on foot.

  At the entrance of the maze, Craigdale Beast reared and shook his head wildly.

  “Okay, okay.” Alistair patted the sweaty neck of his stallion and turned back to tie him to one of the cherry trees nearby.

  Oh, Christ! “Sophia!” Alistair shouted, his deep voice fraught with fear. At first, when she didn’t answer or move, he thought she had fainted and hurt herself. The white Louis Vuitton scarf had come undone and her Chanel pink-and-white flats were off her feet and far from her. He ran to her and dropped to his knees.

  Dressed in a silk ruffled white poet-shirt with rose pearl buttons marching up the front, she was lying down, curled in on herself, her arms circling the waist of her long soft-pink merino skirt.

  As he realized she was only sleeping, a rush of relief went through his body leaving his hands trembling.

  Even with the cuts, yellowing bruises on her face and the bandage around her head, to him she looked beautiful and fresh like a nymph.

  And then his relief turned into boiling rage. Fuck, Sophia. Fuck.

  With a firm voice, he uttered her name loudly, “Sophia.”

  Stretching her arms above her head and arching her torso on the ground, she opened her eyes lazily. She looked up to see Alistair’s tense face looking down at her, his brow creased. She was having such a nice dream that she had yet to come out of it. She whispered, “Hi.”

  “Craigdale has been turned upside down and you didn’t think to inform us that you were about to take a beauty nap,” he reprimanded. “Do you know how long we have been looking for you, Sleeping Beauty?”

  Sleeping Beauty? She sat on the ground and picking up his arm, she looked at his watch. Oh, God. It’s late. But when she looked back at his frowning face, her guilt evaporated. “No. Not really. And I don’t care.”

  “Do you have any idea how I was feeling while ye were here sleeping peacefully?”

  Yes, afraid, I’m sorry. With her index finger, she poked his chest. “And who do you think you are? To lie to me? To omit things about my life? And then demand I comply easily with everything? Who?”

  Who am I? To do what? What do you mean? He looked at her through his black eyelashes.

  She lifted her chin, daring him to answer, starting to get annoyed.

  “Well,” he straightened up to his knees, towering over her. His anger grew in tandem with his uncertainty. “If you doona know, I doona either.” He didn’t realize that he had lapsed into his mix of Scottish Gaelic and English and that his accent had turned almost into a brogue. “But I know who ye are,” he shouted, “Ye, Wife, are mo beatha. Mo gràdh. Mo chridhe. Or at least, I hope so.”

  “I can’t defend myself if I don’t understand what you’re saying,” she shouted back, up on her knees and pushed him.

  He fell back on the grass astonished by her sudden attack. Defend? From whom? Me?

  She straddled him, pounding her fists against his chest, as she bit out, “You liar, you alpha-macho, you caveman…”

  Sophia stopped mid-sentence and drew a huge breath. My Lord Caveman.

  Your Lord Caveman. Alistair was staring fixedly at her, with hooded eyes. “Have ye finished?”

  No, I haven’t. But it’s not so important right now. Without answering, she crushed her lips against his, her tongue seeking his as her hands gripped his long, silky hair, tugging, slanting his head, demanding surrender.

  Her breasts smashed against his chest as their mouths and hands sought, took, and gave into a carnal need so explosive that they didn’t even care they were out in the open or that everyone was looking for her.

  He sat up with Sophia straddling his legs and pulled off his sweater, his eyes hot as he stared at her mouth reddened by their rough kiss. Be careful. She has been hurt.

  I missed you. She closed her eyes in bliss as her hands ran over his shoulders and arms, chest, and abs to palm his engorged crotch, squeezing. She gasped and undid his fly to have better access. When her hand dipped into his boxers and fisted his hard manhood both of them moaned out loud.

  Everything inside him cracked and he couldn’t hold himself still any longer. He needed contact, beyond desperate. He ripped her blouse open, the tiny pearl buttons flying away to expose her breasts encased in a beautiful white silk bra. He splayed his big hands over them, pulling the bra down.

  “Suck.” Her nerves were on fire and she screamed in pleasure when he tongued first one nipple then the other before taking one in his mouth completely. She fisted his hair and her pleasured cries rippled in the air.

  He could feel the urgency coiling inside her and pushed her onto the grass. He threw her skirt up to her waist and tore off her panties, his fingers reaching for her and finding her wet for him.

  She spread her legs and wound them around his hips, as he shoved his jeans and boxers down. Her desire sparked all over her body when his erection pressed against her inner thigh.

  “Fuck me hard,” her voice was low and strained.

  Alistair ran his hands over her toned thighs, feeling the velvet texture of her skin and was swept by a wildfire of passion. His pupils dilated as she moaned in lust, his blood burned and urged him to ta
ke her but he didn’t want to be too rough.

  “Sophia,” he said in a needy sigh. Sweat trickled down his temples as he debated with himself if she was well enough to be made love to.

  “Hard,” she whispered and gripped his biceps, her nails digging into his skin.

  It ripped away the last threads of his control. He understood that all Sophia wanted was to feel alive. And he was there to give her all she wished for. He was going to make love to his wife, to make her feel loved, protected, and free. He looked at her as he settled himself on his forearms, nudging at her opening.

  “Keep your eyes open. I want to see their amazing kaleidoscope of color,” he breathed before he slid into her with one powerful thrust.

  She gasped, jerking forward, rejoicing at the sensation of utter fullness. It emptied her mind of all thoughts as he started to pump.

  “Pick up the rhythm.” His voice roughened with the command. Alistair pulled her against him and thrust again. “Fuck yourself on me.”

  Sophia’s world distilled to pure sensation with her husband’s hands gripping her shoulders, sliding in and out of her in powerful plunges. Just the sight of his glorious body glistened with sweat, pumping into her as his forest-green eyes demanded her heart and soul was enough to spike her lust. Her blood ran as lava, making her skin burn. She squeezed herself around him, dug her nails into his tapered waist and raked them over his back.

  “Do it again.” He grunted out loud. The sensations were nearly unbearable. “I love it when you’re so free.”

  “Then give me more,” she demanded, repeating the action. “I want more.”

  Alistair’s groans rumbled as air scorched his lungs. He slammed into her all the way in, jarring her to the core, pleasure mixing with an edge of pain in an erotic mixture.

  Sophia’s pulse pounded loudly in her ears and she could feel herself getting more and more out of control.

  “Tell me what you want, Sophia.” Alistair grabbed her, plunging so far inside her that she shook with the impact.