Unbind (Sub Rosa Series Book 1)

by Lynch, Sarah Michelle

  He clutched at his throat. “My god, you still don’t know, do you?”

  “Know what?” Bile rose in my throat. What was there to know? I certainly didn’t like being left out of something and sounded almost desperate when I asked in a small, hurt voice, “Tell me.”

  He zipped his trap shut and shot me his big, puppy dog eyes. A soft gaze fell over his face and he explained, “She is a total and utter enigma… and you’re getting to spend Christmas… with her? We bet on whether you’ll come back in the new year… whether any of the rumours about that place up there are true.”

  I decided to be straight with him. “There is something unnerving about her but she doesn’t scare me. I’ll be on my guard but Cai is the only thing I care about.”

  “That’s sweet, honey. However, there’s a reason why she and Cai perpetuated all those gay rumours for so long… and there’s a reason why she’s keeping you locked in her dungeon, so to speak.”

  Since I’d been in New York, the gay rumours had stopped. However, maybe it had something to do with the fact I was with him so often, the gay thing had certainly become questionable. I stared at Carl, waiting for clarity.

  “I guess she never expected you to turn out so well. You have this, I don’t know, way of writing. So as of the new year, you’ll be taken off the online stuff and transferred to features. Real Frame, if you excuse the ring to that. Researchers already have a bag of stuff for you to wade through… you just have to decide what makes you tick, what holds interest with you.”

  I glared, in disbelief. “I can write what I like? Like, a proper column?” Not a glorified one in the form of a blog.

  “Within reason. It’ll get vetoed, of course. However, we trust you. You’re up with it. You have a finger on the pulse. You’re tenacious, I’ll give you that.”

  I stood to shake his hand. “You know I won’t let you down.”

  “I know. Piece of advice… don’t go grovelling to her with thanks. Just enjoy the time off.”

  I tipped my head back and forth in long motions, somehow feeling it was all still a dream—I needed to shake myself awake. Carl snickered under his breath and grinned, pleased with himself for rendering me speechless. I mouthed features and he nodded. Plain and simple.

  I remembered something he had tried to derail me from. “Why did they perpetuate those gay rumours?”

  He crossed his hands in front of him, his plucked eyebrows meeting in the middle as he frowned. “I thought you knew? It’s simple… she doesn’t want him to be with anyone who might undo her mystery. Which is why I am shocked you are spending Christmas with both of them.”

  The journey back to my desk a blur, I began robotically clearing everything away into my bag or in drawers, locking them after I was done. I started laughing to myself… and guess what? I didn’t leave the building until after I called Kay!

  Chapter 34

  MUCH LATER THAT day, after battling traffic and an oncoming snow storm, we arrived in Litchfield tired yet relieved to finally be in for the holidays.

  A large, Georgian house lifted right out of Old England loomed as we chugged down the tree-lined drive. Though its vastness was somewhat eclipsed by the weather, I was aware of history and heritage as we travelled along in silence. Cai’s money slapped me in the face at the sight of it. The three-storey house was constructed from bloody granite, from the looks. It was amazing how lush the grounds looked, even in winter. It also seemed odd to me that Jennifer had taken care of arrangements, when it was Cai who owned the place.

  The car full of presents and foodstuffs, it was such a relief to have our luggage taken by servants (shock, horror—I know!). Jennifer greeted us in the airy, high-ceilinged hall before we strode up a large marble staircase. We headed through cherry wood-panelled corridors before winding our way to his bedroom and finding our wares already delivered and left at the foot of the bed, near a Chinese ottoman that lived right there next to the footboard. I quickly hung my delicate dresses and Cai’s blazers, shirts and slacks, before I caught up with him in the luxurious, glittering white en suite. We had a quickie in the shower and dressed in clean, warm clothes for the evening’s festivities.

  Cai looked gorgeous in a thick, black sweater with toggles holding the roll-down neck, matched with his usual dark jeans and pointed-toe shoes. He told me it was pretty informal that night so I threw on a jumper dress with a patent black belt, some frilly lace crochet edging the sweetheart neckline and sleeves. I felt like Santa’s little helper with my red tights and black knee-high boots matching the dress. Cai and I joked on it in the bedroom, me being his little elf and him being a very greedy, lusty Santa. We almost got ourselves so wrapped up that we nearly had another round of sex on the bed. I gently rebuffed him with the deterring promise of wine, cheese and ham, which we’d smelt cooking on our way in earlier. Both of us were starving, plus I didn’t want to piss Jennifer off with a late arrival.

  He held my hand and I followed his lead as we wove through long corridors decorated with pieces that were carefully put together, nothing out of place. Not too many paintings, vases or filigrees, just an elegant scattering of wealth and class. I relished the feel of the original, exposed wood flooring under foot, my low-heeled boots clicking in unison with Cai’s masculine footwear.

  Almost every door downstairs was shut but like finding a rare, open inn on a dangerous, unwelcome night, we reached an invitation from one open door—coupled with happy voices, sumptuous scents and light.

  If I’d grown to know anything about Jennifer it was that she wasn’t the showy type, not one bit. The person people believed her to be wasn’t the real woman. She turned up for work a mystery, a perfect specimen of taste and breeding, yet inside that house that night, she was just a lady of the house sat at the head of a table. Four small dogs panted and yapped at her feet—the small, indistinguishable variety. She wore a thick, cream jumper with a large neck swathing her chest and shoulders like a boot sleeve you might see in a children’s story. As we walked toward the table, I detected jodhpurs and boots similar to mine. Riding boots were all the rage and why not? Elegant, robust and damn comfortable. For once I agreed with a trend. I noticed a sly smile flutter over her mouth when she spotted our matching footwear. Pity she then saw my belt and frowned. Jennifer thought belts merely failed to mask shoddy tailoring.

  “Sit, sit,” she demanded, slouching in the chair, her legs crossed beneath the table. So relaxed, not a bit the woman who stopped traffic in large hallways in one of the most famous buildings and magazine houses in the entire world.

  Cai and I sat at her sides, so she was at the head, and we, opposite one another. It was the way the place settings had been arranged. The thick wood of the table, possibly centuries old, was rosewood, maybe. It looked and felt, rare. The table could most probably sit at least 20, if not more, if it was one of those unfolding things. A terrific glass chandelier that was simple with large bulbs hung overheard, lighting the darkness of the wooden chamber. Wood was everywhere, literally. Walls. Floors. Furniture. Only the deep ceiling cornicing, in a light mustard, offset the dark dining room which might have concealed mysteries or dinnerware in hidden cupboards, for all I knew.

  “Good trip up?” Jennifer looked at Cai, her hand absentmindedly reaching down to pet one of her toy dogs.

  “If we’d waited ten more minutes, I don’t think we’d have made it.”

  I nodded in agreement and accepted wine from a waiter. Or was he a butler? He was certainly as stiff as his starched bib and tucker looked.

  This place was singular. I knew it was open for weddings and occasions, but I thought Jennifer might have sent the help home for the season. She obviously did have a little bit of a sharp edge, after all.

  I sipped the burgundy syrup and groaned, it was delicious. Cai joined me and smiled in satisfaction.

  “Vintage pinot noir, you like?” Jennifer tossed me a vacant, meaning-to-be polite smile.

  “Gorgeous,” I exclaimed.

  A woman brou
ght out trays of crackers, cheeses, warm ham cut so thin I wanted to suck it off the silver plate it laid on. Comfits and condiments were placed between us, as well as sweetbreads and rolls, jars of pickles and olives. It was like tapas, but bastardized in the most wonderful way—for English tastes.

  “Just a few nibbles tonight, dears. Have to save ourselves for tomorrow.” Cai and I looked at one another greedily, waiting for her to go first. She had, after all, organised this whole thing. Which in itself was strange, given Cai was the one who really owned this house. I understood why he didn’t want to run it, but he could sell it, surely?

  “Dig in, you young things. I know a starved pair of lovers when I see one.” She sniggered, only minutely. It was all she would allow herself.

  We piled our plates and between sipping wine, we tasted and remarked on the flavours, the variety. Oh, but… the freshness and the way in which the food hit just the right note! Throughout the meal I vaguely sensed hints of freshly baked minced pies wafting in from the kitchen and had high hopes for more yet.

  Jennifer ate a few pieces of ham, a bit of cheese, but got through the wine in a much more cheerful way than she did the food. Cai noticed she wasn’t eating much too, but shrugged it off when I gave him a look he recognised.

  “I didn’t tell you in the car,” I began, a smile burning my cheeks. “I got features.”

  Cai reached over the table and squeezed my hand. “That’s great. I’m always proud of you, though.”

  Jennifer remained quiet, her face looking at her lap. I wondered whether to broach it. Or not. She was the one who looked up with a sheen of wine-induced lethargy, groggily admitting, “Well, Carl thinks a lot of you. Wouldn’t stop pestering.”

  Cai’s gaze fixed on me, an inquisitive expression on his face. I never really took my work home, it was something I was very conscious of because he didn’t bring his home either. Why hadn’t I told him of my burgeoning friendship with Carl? Well, the answer to that was easy—Carl was most certainly a friend and nothing more—but only through my eyes.

  Jennifer looked between us and admitted, “She’s fit right in, Kincaid. Just like you said she would.”

  He nodded slowly, still gauging my reactions, my expressions. I had to explain, or rather, smooth it over. His blue eyes never dropped from my face, reading me intently.

  “On my first day I told Carl that I was a writer and not an image conscious prop—it seemed to evince respect from him.”

  Cai’s gaze sparkled, widened, and he smiled. That smile got me, every time. Made my knees go weak, my heart race and my stomach flutter. In that moment if we didn’t have company, I might have asked him to throw me across the spread and ravish me right there, cheese and ham slices sticking to my bare buttocks as he licked and tasted me, then plunged deep inside my body.

  I read his smile and what was behind it: the day we met and the words I used that day. I wasn’t ever going to be something I wasn’t. This was who I was. Take me, or leave me.

  “Carl is the perfect colleague, but he’s a flirt,” Jennifer told us, looking down at the table with a tiny smirk.

  “Carl respects me and it works. I’m lucky I have that in the workplace.” I added that to the argument, or my defence I guess. Why I felt insecure, or guilty, I wasn’t sure. Maybe because Cai was inexperienced and still struggled with his jealousies. I knew I felt jealous when he was away shooting, thinking of him with half-naked models or dolled up assistants eager to give him a blowjob—a quick, little act that nobody need ever know about—but would most certainly break my heart. Yet as soon as we were together again, after a full day’s work or a trip of his, we’d rekindle all that had brought us together in the first place. We had an indescribable force of attraction that obliterated everything else.

  “That’s great,” Jennifer said tiredly, not really interested in me gushing over Carl and a job I hadn’t taken for granted, not for a single day. “Listen you guys, I think I shall head to bed. The wine really hit my head and it’s been a long, long day battling those elements and numerous factors.” Her eyes avoided us both as she stood and shooed the pups from beneath her chair so she could move it. She held her head as she wobbled and I almost reached out to help steady her, I didn’t know about Cai. “I’ve had a lovely evening anyway, so goodnight.”

  She was abrupt, but never impolite. I sensed her eagerness to please but be unreadable, too. She was an enigma, like Carl said.

  “More for us,” Cai excused her, watching as she walked away slowly, her aged body weary from a long day, possibly a long ride… or something.

  After we ate our fill, the servants came to clear up for us, the butler’s bib and tucker making me feel wildly underdressed. I don’t know, it was just a custom I wasn’t used to.

  We retired to a drawing room that was styled in a similar fashion and both sat in large, leather wingback chairs pushed close to the roaring, open fire nearby. The manservant popped his head around the door and asked if that was all. Cai nodded, enthusing, “Happy Christmas, Dirk. We got it.”

  Cai’s slight gesticulation was a relief for the man in the penguin suit, relieved of his duties. The door shut behind him and I looked at the fire, thinking longingly of my earlier fantasy of having Cai throw me over the table and spread me over the buffet.

  “You have that look in your eye,” he warned, so he’d spotted my thoughts.

  “What look?” I demanded, my eyes still trained on the large, billowing red flames. He let it go and I reached my feet over so he could massage them on his lap. He removed the fluffy, white socks I wore over my tights and tossed them over to where I’d left my boots on the edge of the rug.

  “Did you notice she seemed, ill? Or, I don’t know… out of it?”

  “What?” He seemed confused.

  “Jennifer hardly ate a thing,” I elucidated, “she stumbled from her chair which might not seem odd, given the wine she had, however she stumbled the rest of the way across the dining room too.”

  Cai looked into my eyes and gave no answers, not verbally or otherwise. So I pursued the issue. “How do you usually spend Christmas?”

  He chewed his inner cheek and a momentary shift in his concentrated gaze made me realise it wasn’t a comfortable question for him. “I stay in Florida or LA, anywhere warm. It’s a nightmare in New York City at Christmas… all that fucking snow!”

  Didn’t we know it.

  “So, what does Jennifer normally do?” I quirked a brow; I really was interested in the woman.

  “No idea. I think, well… I think it’s odd she got us together like this, don’t you?”

  I pursed my lips. “I honestly don’t know. I thought seeing as though you’re her nephew, you’d be the one to enlighten me.”

  His eyes widened which was Cai’s body language for, ‘I can’t talk. I’m thinking.’ He reached over to an end table, grabbing a mince pie from a stacked plate. Some tumbled down and icing sugar puffed into the candlelit, smoky air.

  So, food was the prop between us, the one thing stalling our confessions, for that night anyway. I smiled gingerly and joined him in enjoying a bite or two. He poured some brandy from a decanter and handed me a dram.

  “Cheers, to us,” he announced, and the fiery bite hit the back of my throat pleasingly. Once sated, he asked, “Now, tell me what you were thinking of back at the table earlier, when you gave me that look.”

  I gave him that look and he repeated, “Yeah, that look. I’ve had that look thrown at me too many times tonight, not able to do a goddamned thing about it… until now.”

  I smiled mischievously and sat back in my chair, watching as he uncoiled his beautiful, powerful body, sliding to the floor on his knees.

  He rolled my jumper dress up my legs, past my thighs, and then reached for the tops of my tights, pulling so I had to sit up and let him drag them from my waist down my thighs. Legs bare, he kissed my feet, then up my calves. In the warming, sensual light, Cai’s eyes radiated heat and love. His long lashes fanned into large
shadows across his hollowed cheeks and I got wetter just staring into his eyes. He pulled the dress over my head and there was no more time for thought, or worry.

  “I wanna make love, right here,” he patted the carpet beside him, rocking back on his heels. He pulled his sweater over his head and I met him on the ground, on our knees, chests pressed together. We undressed each other until we were both naked and then he laid me on the mat, hovering at my entrance as he told me, “I don’t fear a thing when I’m with you.”

  Chapter 35

  CHRISTMAS DAY WAS largely informal too, just lots of eating, drinking and some films in the den later in the afternoon. I thought it was all so surreal and didn’t understand how or why Jennifer was happy enough to spend Christmas with just us two, when she most likely had dozens of friends in high places desperate to give her a fantastic day. She wasn’t the gooseberry, exactly, but we would have been happy enough cuddled on the couch by ourselves.

  In bed that morning, Cai had gifted me a diamond necklace that I was told was insured, but it still freaked me out. “Wear it always,” he had insisted. In the den I twirled the jewels in my hand and marvelled at the spectrum of baubles and fairy lights nearby reflected in the platinum settings. Each room downstairs had a tree and garlands on the fireplaces but except for those, seasonal decoration was sparse.

  What did you buy the man who had everything? Seven pairs of custom-made silk boxers with comic-strip variations I chose myself, that’s what. I did think it was adorable and strange he always wore comic strip underwear but how could I judge? I wrapped them all individually so his face was priceless after he opened each consecutive little packet to find another dainty pair of weightless silk drawers. Funny. He loved my gifts and also loved waking up to find me in his real present—a sheer, scarlet babydoll with white fur trim.

  I kept expecting Carl to be proven right, you know, like he’d almost said, ‘You might come back from there kicking and screaming.’