After putting together two smaller bags of essentials for the night, we walked back to the farmhouse using the light from our phones. I couldn’t wait to get the mud off and get warm. The woman had put a heavy coat on, and I was relieved to see the rifle had been left in the house. She was waiting for us at her rental cottage with a picnic basket. “I’m Caroline, welcome to our farm.”
“Thank you for your hospitality, Caroline. I’m Ben, and this is my girlfriend, Jane. We won’t be any trouble.”
“My husband, Donald, broke his ankle last week, so I need to be getting back to him. I’ll call for your recovery van first thing in the morning. There’s wood for a fire by the side here, and the kitchen has the basics. Here’s some fresh bread, milk, and meat for sandwiches to get you by.” She handed Ben the giant key to the cottage and turned to walk back to the farmhouse. “Thank you, Caroline, we’re in your debt,” Ben called out to her as she nodded.
“Well, honey, we’re home!” Ben smiled at me as he flung open the cottage door.
Chapter Sixteen.
The cottage was small but clean and a welcome dry place after being in the cold mud all afternoon. We left our mud-encrusted shoes at the door on a woven mat. Darkness had fallen outside, and Ben turned on a lamp beside the sofa. For some reason, I hadn’t expected there to be electricity. I guess I mistook rural for primitive. After setting our bags down, Ben walked into the kitchen and looked through the cabinets. I followed after him and unpacked the basket of food, placing the items in the tiny refrigerator under one of the counters. After filling it with water from the sink, Ben plugged in an electric teakettle. He placed two mugs on the small wooden table and sat down, checking his iPhone yet again as if service would magically appear.
I left him in the kitchen in search of the bathroom. I changed into dry clothes, and splashed some water across my face. The cottage was chilly, so I covered a t-shirt with my favorite green sweater and wandered back into the kitchen. Ben had the tea made, and was staring at me. “I should know how you take your tea, but I’m at a loss?” I stared at him as if he were speaking another language, which it often felt like he was. “Um, I guess I have no idea. I usually drink coffee.”
“Ah,” he said, “well, then, how do you like your coffee?”
“A little sugar and creamer, if I have it. I often run out of creamer and drink it black, though.”
He looked at me as he poured milk into my teacup. “Let’s hope we find the Cupid, and you’ll have all the money for creamer you need from now on.” He spooned some sugar into my cup, gave it a stir, and slid the mug toward me. He made his tea with more milk, but skipped the sugar. He drank it down steaming hot, as I blew on mine. “I’d build a fire to warm the place up, but I fear I’d burn it down. I have absolutely no rural skills whatsoever.” We both laughed as I admitted that neither did I. Something else we had in common.
After managing a small dinner scavenged from the kitchen and the food Caroline left, we grabbed a bottle of red wine from the cupboard and filled two glasses. Ben toasted with a “Cheers” as we clinked glasses and sat down on the small sofa. “I’ll sleep here, you take the bed and get some sleep. I only hope we can get out early tomorrow—we must get to that clue as soon as possible.” My face fell in disappointment before I could catch myself. “That doesn’t seem fair…this sofa doesn’t seem very comfortable, and you paid for the cottage. We shared a bed last night without killing each other…”
“Jane, last night I tried to sleep with your sexy body wrapped around mine. If you do that again, I don’t think I can control myself. I’ll sleep here, you take the bed, and let’s get some sleep.” He placed his wine glass on the table and walked into the bedroom, leaving me there, thoroughly disappointed. He returned a minute later with a pillow and blanket. “Goodnight, fair Jane,” he said dramatically, reaching for my hand and standing me up. He leaned in and kissed me, a deep, romantic kiss, before pulling away and gesturing toward the bedroom door. “Get some sleep, baby, you’ll need it.” I wandered toward the bedroom, hoping he’d change his mind.
I tried to sleep, but it was dark. Dark like I’d never known. I pictured someone chasing us, the evil Sean, trying to separate us. A spark of lightning followed by a crash of thunder caused me to jump; I’d been afraid of storms since I was a little girl. I couldn’t sleep, despite the exhaustion I felt. I missed Ben, even though he was twenty feet away. I wanted him, and I didn’t care if it was all pretend. I didn’t care if it was only for one night.
I slowly wandered into the living room, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. In front of the sofa, I knelt down to where he was sleeping. The sofa was tiny, and his feet hung awkwardly off the end. I could barely make out his features in the dim light. I ran my fingertips across his jaw, the scratchy stubble of the day prickling my skin. He moved as if to roll over, and I ran my hand down his neck to his chest. I could smell him as I leaned in, that peppery clean perfect scent that I’d been attracted to since that first afternoon in his office. Leaning in, I kissed him, his sleepy lips soft and pliable. At some point, he returned the kiss, his lips parting to allow my tongue to tangle with his. As his hand slipped up to grab a handful of my hair, pulling me closer, I knew there was no turning back. I didn’t care how badly I got burned, I had to play with fire.
“Jane, you don’t want this,” he husked, pulling his lips from mine.
“Do you?” I asked in the darkness.
“Yes, God yes. But…”
“I’m not your type, I get that it’s just temporary.”
“What? No… You’re far too good for me. I’m trouble, Jane, I’m not…”
Our lips crashed together again, his fist embedded in my hair. I already knew he was trouble; I didn’t want to be reminded. That night, as the thunder pounded and the lightning pierced the consuming darkness, I wanted to forget the reality and live the fantasy—at least once. “I shouldn’t do this,” he breathed as he rose from the small sofa. “You do this all the time. What’s changed from last night?” I protested, pulling his hand toward the bedroom. “Everything,” he exhaled, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me up.
He carried me to the bedroom, gently laying me across the bed. He crouched over me in the near darkness, his kisses dusting across my neck, down my collarbone. I had one of his t-shirts on—I’d borrowed it to sleep in without asking. It smelled like him. He slipped it from me, leaving me bared in front of him in only my plain cotton panties. I was glad it was dark in the room; compared to the women he was used to, my curves were fairly uninspiring.
His fingers caressed down my chest, my nipples hardening as his gentle touch brought them to life. My back arched as his hands flitted lower, across my torso, stopping just at my waist. He brought his face close to mine, his troubled eyes lighting up with the next flash of the storm. “Jane, no matter what you hear about me, no matter what happens, tonight is real, okay?” I bit my lip hard, trying to chase away the doubts. “Mm hm,” I moaned, as his kisses skipped across my hipbones.
Further down his warm lips slipped, the panties in between our skin being lowered until they dropped on the wooden floor. He breathed in deeply before his tongue slowly flicked at my quivering sex, shaven smooth for the first time in years, just for him. My hips raised, my thighs fell open, desperately craving his touch. Being far more experienced, he didn’t rush—instead, he savored every moment of discovering me for the first time.
As his tongue toyed with my throbbing bundle of nerves, I begged him for more. “Please, I can’t…not like this…I’ve never…ahhhhh!” It had been years since a man had touched me, and never like this. I’d had a brief few minutes of oral foreplay before, but this was in a different league; in a different universe. Ben was in no hurry, and slowly circled my clit as if he could do just that all night long. I moaned for more, lifting from the bed in an attempt to press against his attentive tongue. As he slipped a long finger, then two, inside me, I couldn’t hold back. I begged him to fuck me; I craved it. “Mmm,�
�� he teased, his voice vibrating against my overly-sensitive clit, “you’re not ready for me yet.” As his fingers pressed against my G-spot, causing a burst of liquid to squirt, he sucked my clit hard into his warm mouth. With the flick of his tongue, I was gone—shuddering, begging, pleading, shaking, erupting into the best orgasm I’d ever had.
When I finally regained a sense of where I was, he was taking off the jeans he’d slept in, fishing a condom from the pocket before tossing them to the floor. There was a crisp rip as he tore open the foil, and within seconds he was kneeling between my still-shaking legs. His mouth was on me again, his tongue finding mine in an erotic dance, as he carefully slid into my tightness, filling me slowly in a thrust that never seemed to end. When he was fully sheathed deep inside me, he paused, giving my out-of-practice body time to adjust. He kissed me deeper, with an urgency I’d never felt before. We melted into each other as he at last began to move, a timeless motion that drove me higher and higher to yet another shattering climax. As I tightened around him, biting down on his collarbone to squelch my scream as I came yet again around him. “Fuck, Jane, you are so tight and perfect, I can’t…” he groaned in a deep guttural plea as he shook and twitched inside of me, his own intense climax overwhelming us both.
Chapter Seventeen.
The next thing I remember, the golden wash of the sun was urging me to wake. I was naked but warm, wrapped tightly in the soft quilt. Ben was standing at the window, as naked as I was, but far less self-conscious of it. The rays of warm sunshine bathed him in an ethereal glow, a glow far brighter than his mood. He looked troubled, worried—torn.
“What time is it?” I asked, breaking his lonely melancholy. He turned to face me, causing my heart to skip a beat as I took him in, completely bare and fully unashamed of it. “It’s just after six, baby, go back to sleep,” he smiled warmly. “Come back to bed,” I encouraged, my hand reaching out toward him. He slowly walked back toward the bed, crawling under the covers and cradling me in his embrace as we both drifted off into a hard sleep.
“Ben! Don’t go!” I woke up yelling, jolting up in bed. His palm rested on my bare back, his reassuring words calming me, “Shhh, I’m right here, baby, you’re dreaming.” Fighting the hold of the vivid image, I relaxed, breathing deeply and lying back down beside him. “I guess I do say your name in my sleep,” I joked. He wrapped me up in his arms and kissed my shoulder, “I was just bullshitting you before, but it seems your wise sub-conscious is joining in with the others to warn you that I’m bad news.” My hands found his, and I pulled his arms even closer around me. I didn’t know what his game was, but I’d never felt this connection with anyone before…ever. There was a spark between us, and I didn’t care if it ended in pain—I wanted every second with Ben Hunt that I could steal. We slept again as he buried his face into my hair.
The hard rapping on the heavy door woke me, the room bright—I knew it was late. I could hear Ben in the living room speaking with whoever was at the door in hushed tones. As I slid from the cozy quilt to find his discarded t-shirt, Ben opened the bedroom door—dressed, shaven, and showered. “Jane, roadside service is here to pull the car from the mud. I’ll be back, will you be okay here?” I nodded as he closed the door.
I quickly showered and dressed, re-packing my things before heading to the kitchen. Ben was there, dressed in a white button-down shirt and wearing the well-fitted jeans he’d worn two days ago, cleaned of my vomit by the staff at Hopetoun. He flashed me his million-dollar smile as he handed me a cup of tea. I was missing coffee, but I could get used to Ben Hunt making me tea every morning. “The car is freed of the ominous mud, and Caroline brought us freshly baked baps for breakfast.” Before I could ask what the hell a bap was, he unwrapped a roll, about the size of a small hamburger bun, from a linen napkin and handed it to me. It was still warm, and smelled heavenly. “Butter that beast up and you’ll never want to go home,” he taunted. I took his advice and, covered in the sweet, fresh butter, Caroline’s bread was delicious. I ate two more and drank my tea as Ben packed up his stuff to go.
When he returned to the kitchen, he leaned down to kiss me, his lips warm and lingering. “Well good morning,” I purred. “It is a good morning, but it was a much better night,” he flirted, licking his lips. “Reality awaits,” he said, reaching out for my hand and helping me down from the stool I was perched on. He carried the bags to the car, now parked just outside, and loaded the trunk. After locking up the cottage, he slipped the large skeleton key under the doormat.
“Are we still lost?” I asked as he slid into the driver’s seat, his sunglasses shielding his eyes from the rare Scottish sunshine. “We’re going old school,” he said, tapping a map on his palm for emphasis. “The AA gave me this wonderful invention for way-finding.” I took the map from him, attempting to find our location. I’ve always been decent at navigation. “Our road service company is called triple A in America,” I said absently, my finger tracing the remote country road where I thought we were located. “Damn Americans, you have to do everything bigger—you added an A?”
With the mud drying and the aid of the map, we managed to make our way to Glasgow in just under two hours, including a stop for gas, which Ben referred to as petrol. As we crept into the city, traffic clogging the highway in every direction, I started to get nervous. We were close to either the Cupid or yet another clue. I should have been hoping to find the sculpture, but I was really hoping for more time with Ben—at least another night.
We pulled up to the Govan Old Parish Church, on the bank of the River Clyde, and Ben circled around a few times before aggressively swooping in on a parking space on the street out front. His driving was every bit as horrible as it was the first day, but I’d spent so much time in the car with him the last two days I was numb to it. He glanced at his iPhone again, swiped through several screens of messages, and then walked around the car to open my door. “Sean?” I asked, gesturing toward his phone. “Yes,” he confirmed, “the old man is not happy. Neither is Elizabeth, I’m afraid.” I scowled momentarily at the mention of her name; I could still picture them together vividly, and it hurt. “Don’t be jealous, fair Jane,” he teased, taking my hand and guiding me toward the church.
“What’s the game plan?” I asked, sensing another twist in our adventure. “The game plan…Well, there are several Viking hogback stones on display here. Let’s rummage around them and see if we can get this next clue sorted. I’m sure the Cupid itself wouldn’t be left here, so we’re looking for another envelope.” Inside the medieval church, there were several museum-type displays elegantly lit around the perimeter. It was a weekday, and the place wasn’t crowded, but there were several tourists milling around as well as a school group. On a low wooden platform sat the stones, massive and better preserved than those at Abercorn. These were raised on painted white stands, allowing us to search underneath. As Ben was combing over the final stone, a young female docent walked up to him. “Sir, I have to ask you not to disturb the stones, if I may.” He looked over at her and turned on the charm. “Right, sorry. My cousin Jane here has come all the way from America to study Viking hogback stones. We simply wanted a closer look.” She sized him up before returning his smile. She looked over at me, her eyes questioning, as she bit her lower lip.
“Oh, where in Ohio are you from?” she asked, the pointed question disguised by her breezy tone.
“Toledo.”
“How did you know she was from Ohio,” he asked, glancing at the docent’s nametag, and adding, “Mary from Aberdeen. I said America, that’s a quite large place.” The charming smile slipped from her lips, her eyes narrowing. Ignoring Ben, she gazed back at me, locking her eyes with mine. “Jane Andrews, this is important. What did your Uncle Stuart bring you from Cairo?” Shocked, it took me a minute to process what was happening. Ben and Mary from Aberdeen were locked on me so intently, waiting for my answer, that others were beginning to stare as well. I looked at Ben for guidance, and he gave me a quick head nod. “A
sphinx. It’s still on my desk at home.”
Mary reached into her dark blazer and handed me an envelope. “I expected you days ago, I’ve had to work extra hours here to ensure I didn’t miss you. I didn’t expect him,” she said in warning. Ben quickly spanned the distance between us, grasping my arm and attempted to drag me from the church. “We need to go,” he grumbled, his tone low and definitive. I went along with him, my mind processing everything that had happened in the last few days. Something suddenly clicked, and I pulled away from Ben and ran back into the church.
Mary was standing at the information desk, taking off her nametag as I approached. She flushed when she saw me, finally gesturing for me to head to a quiet corner as the docent at the desk eyed us suspiciously.
“Listen, I don’t want any trouble with you. I’ve done my part—”
“You said you weren’t expecting the guy who’s with me. Why?”
“The man said you’d be with an older English gentleman, not some fit sexy bloke, that’s all. He gave me a hundred quid to hand an American from Toledo who was searching around the hogbacks an envelope. He said he’d know if I didn’t do it. I’m skint right now and need the money.”
“Has anyone else been here, searching?” She shook her head.
“No, and I’m done with this now. The man said it was some sort of scavenger hunt, but I can’t afford to lose my docent job here. I need this position for my course at uni.”
Uni? University! I was starting to understand this strange vocabulary, slowly. And like Mary from Aberdeen, I was also broke, or as she put it, skint.
Mary turned to leave, desperate to get away from me. My mind was reeling, and I started to get angry…really angry. Uncle Stuart didn’t expect Ben Hunt to be with me on this adventure?
I slowly walked from the church. Ben was sitting just outside the entrance on a wooden bench, his head in his hands. He stood up as I approached, reaching out for me. “Jane, please, let me explain. I wanted to tell you...”
The Hunt for Eros Page 8