Third Time Lucky (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Rosemary J. Anderson

  Chapter Seventeen

  Using a stick to flick the cobwebs off the kindling and watching whilst the small spiders scurried away to safety, Holly rolled up some of the newspapers and proceeded to light the fire, feeling a sense of satisfaction as the paper smouldered and eventually the flames licked up the chimney. Coughing slightly at the wisps of smoke that filtered into the room, Holly felt her spirits begin to lift as warmth invaded her cold limbs and chased away shadows. Sumo, stationing himself as close to the fire as he possibly could and sighing deeply as he put his head on his paws, drew forth the first smile of the night to her lips.

  “Next, something to eat, Sumo. How about that? And then bed.” Glancing at her watch, she yawned. Midnight. No wonder she felt tired. Busying herself getting the makeshift meal and shaking out newspapers and sacks to form a bed kept her mind off Alex, Mason, and what the future might possibly hold for her.

  * * * *

  Jules De Verne roared with rage. Where was the woman? He’d entered the house through a small window in the kitchen and surprisingly no alarm had sounded. After cutting the wires to the telephone he’d systematically searched the property finding only an old lady whom he presumed was the housekeeper. Her snores had drowned the sound of his movements and she had not wakened when he’d leaned over her. Hesitating only briefly at the sight of a large dog bowl, his hand had tightened on the evil-looking dagger he’d been holding. However, time was wasted as he went from room to room only to find the house empty. No woman and no dog. Where had she gone? His agents had indicated she was at home and her husband, he ground his teeth hard, her husband was away. So where the hell was she? He’d been sitting in his car outside ever since he’d received the information, so there was no way she’d sneaked past him. Returning to the outside he stared around. She’d not passed him so she must have gone over the fields. His gaze settled on the distant forest, his look intense and frustrated. She would not escape him, not again.

  * * * *

  Sitting before the fire, enjoying its warmth, Holly tucked into bread and cheese. Sumo snuggled reassuringly close. She was so very tired she could barely keep her eyes open. Feeding Sumo the last of the bread and some sausages she pulled the dog close and stretched out onto the hard makeshift bed, her bag acting as a pillow. Taking out the photo she’d taken from Mason’s desk she placed it on the pillow, then in order to save oil, she with some trepidation extinguished the lamp. With the light came reassurance and a feeling of safety. Without, the darkness closed in around her as did her fears. The fire still burned brightly and having Sumo near allowed her to feel reassured enough to close her eyes and it was then the tears came running down her cheeks and soaking Sumo’s fur. However, as the fire burnt low, Holly finally slipped into a deep, exhausted slumber.

  * * * *

  Mason Black finished his report and retired to his apartment. Tomorrow he would go home. His heart lifted at the thought of Holly waiting for him. He’d tried telephoning her mobile, but there had been no answer. Puzzled he’d phoned the house only to find the lines out of order. It seemed he was destined to wait. He was tired. The mission had been beset with difficulties, but luckily all his men had survived, although two of the bad men had been killed in the process. Extracting people from difficult situations and battle-worn countries was always a risk, one he no longer wanted now he had Holly in his life. He smiled. It was a nice feeling knowing he had a wife waiting for him, someone to care for, someone to protect and someone to love and hopefully realise her love for him in return. He’d had women in the past. Of course he had. He was no monk, but he’d never felt this overwhelming feeling of contentment before. He supposed that came from loving someone. The future looked bright, a loving wife, maybe children and the animal sanctuary he’d always wanted. Life couldn’t be better.

  Throwing himself on the bed, his thoughts wandered back to time spent in Holly’s arms. She was so loving and giving, happy to be in his arms and in his bed. Eagerly meeting his needs with her own, enjoying his body as he enjoyed hers. He groaned silently. Why was he torturing himself like this? But his thoughts refused to be tamed and he closed his eyes recalling that one time.

  It had been Mrs. Henry’s day off and she had been visiting her sister. Holly had been in the kitchen getting breakfast. He recalled her bright, sunny smile. The lines of worry etched on her face had been lifted and she’d looked young and carefree. She’d been wearing overalls and nothing else, the strap of the bib falling off one narrow shoulder exposing the soft curve of her breast to his hungry eyes. Slowly he’d walked over to her on the pretext of getting the sugar. She’d been fully aware of what he’d been up to, and her eyes had sparkled as she laughed mischievously up at him, and unable to resist he’d pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply and thoroughly. She’d responded in kind, winding her arms around his neck and standing on tiptoe in order to get closer to him. His kisses had moved to her neck and lowering the strap farther down her arm he had caressed her shoulder with his lips, his tongue tantalizing as it flicked out tasting her silky skin. Slowly, sensuously, he followed the exposed curve of her breast only to be halted by the coarse fabric of her clothing. Lifting his head he’d stared deeply, intently into her eyes and unclipped the buckles holding up the bib. It dropped to her waist revealing her luscious breasts to his gaze, the nipples hard and perky commanding his attention. Her groan was all that he could have hoped for and she’d tilted her head back in order for him to freely explore her throat and glorious bosom. He’d been hard, so hard his cock had been almost exploding out of his pants. Playfully she had touched his erection, lightly caressing it through the taut fabric of his pants. The sound and feel of his zipper opening had acted like a catalyst and before she could draw breath he’d turned her and pulling her overalls and panties down around her ankles he’d bent her over the kitchen table and spread her legs. Using his fingers he’d explored the soft peachy roundness of her bottom before sinking them deeply into her wet pussy. The catching of her breath had pleased him and removing his pumping fingers he’d surged up against her and penetrated her pussy from behind. Her squeal of appreciation had urged him on and he’d driven into her time and time again, stretching her internal muscles to the limit. Holding her hips he’d controlled her movements, easing their wildly bucking coupling into a smooth rhythmic thrust and volley. The air had grown thick with the harshness of their breath and the guttural throaty sounds of satisfaction and the musky scent of sex. And when Holly had finally found release, her internal muscles had tightened into a band of iron around his cock and trembling uncontrollably she’d screamed her satisfaction. Quickly following her into a climax his skin had goose-bumped, and his groan had been savage, primal, and satisfied.

  Coming back to the present, Mason turned on his side, calling himself all kinds of fool. His thoughts had been erotic and now he was rock hard, desperately wanting the release of having Holly sheathing his cock inside her body. However, he rose from the bed. A cold shower was all he was going to get tonight.

  * * * *

  Jules De Verne’s anger turned into smouldering resentment. The woman thought she had escaped his revenge, instead she had made him even more determined to find her. Once morning came he would be hot on her trail, and this time there would be no escape. He eased the seat of his car back and reached for a case secreted away under the seat. Flicking open the locks, he stared down at the weapon cushioned on the dark blue velvet and gently stroked a tender finger along its timeless lines. Nothing was more beautiful than a classic medieval crossbow and he was expert at it. Quiet, efficient, and deadly, she wouldn’t know what had hit her. He smiled a cruel twist of his thick lips. A hunt was always a thrill. The fear of the beast, the exhilaration of the chase, and finally the kill! Tomorrow would definitely be a rewarding day.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Holly awoke to a bright morning, the sun shining through the window warming the chilly little hut. There had been a frost overnight and she stared at the frozen window the
patterns made by Jack Frost on the glass truly creative. Slightly disoriented she stared around before she found her wits. Quickly looking at her watch she gave a cry of surprise. Seven o’clock. She had overslept. By now she was sure Alex would have realised she was not at the house and was already out looking for her. Scrambling to her feet, she crept to the door and looked out. All appeared calm. It was really cold, but the sun was bright and struggling to warm the autumn day. Quickly going behind a tree, she made her ablutions and returned to the hut. Feeding Sumo the last of the sausages she made a breakfast of an apple and the last of the tepid coffee. Making sure the fire was well and truly out, she checked she had all her belongings and, feeling like she was leaving all her security behind, she left the hut. Forgetting about the spider’s web and the big spider over the door, she walked straight into the fine fibres and crying out in fear brushed frantically at her face and hair, thoughts of the fat body and long legs creeping into her neckline giving her the chills. Feeling as if everything was against her, she shed a few tears, but knowing that she didn’t have time to indulge in self-pity she abruptly brushed them away. Eventually she calmed and breathing deeply managed to regain some semblance of composure. Not sure where she was going, Holly returned to the density of the forest. Immediately the trees closed in around her, bringing back all her old fears.

  * * * *

  Jules De Verne stepped from the car, adjusting the jacket of his black pin-striped suit and carrying the crossbow. With narrowed eyes he scanned the country before him. There was no way Holly would have passed him without being seen. To the left and right were open fields with no place to hide whereas in the distance a dense forest would provide cover should a person be intent on concealment. Through the process of elimination he chose the route toward the forest and set off. Striding across the fields beyond the house, Jules was focused. He had hunted many times, stalking his prey until the inevitable kill and Holly would be no different. An experienced hunter with no compassion for the creatures he stalked, he was confident, focused, and pitiless. He strode past the house, barely giving it a glance. There was nothing for him there. Soon the open fields gave way to the forest. Here he paused, sniffing the air like an animal. A faint smell of wood smoke wafted on the air. In the last few hours someone had built a fire. His mouth twisting in a semblance of a smile, he followed the scent.

  * * * *

  Holly’s breath came thick and fast. For some reason the feeling of apprehension had returned tenfold. Was she experiencing a premonition? Was Alex hot on her trail or had he given up and gone home? Or was he even following her? Maybe all her worries and fears were just supposition, an assumption of being hunted? She had no proof beyond Alex’s message that he was even going to do anything, so maybe it was just an empty threat from an angry man that had been thwarted. Slowing her footsteps, she reasoned out her fears. Had she been overreacting by running away? Should she have stayed at home and waited for Masson to come back? Or maybe she should just have called the police and left them to handle things? Panicking when she had read Alex’s message, she had acted on instinct, that of running away from danger. She drew a deep breath. She had behaved irrationally and hastily last night leaving like that, so maybe she should just return home. After all this was England, hardly the place for gun-toting maniacs.

  Sumo growling low in his throat brought her thoughts back to her surroundings and she placed a comforting hand on the big dog’s head.

  “What is it, Sumo?” She looked around but couldn’t see anything out of place. Shushing the dog, she tilted her head and listened intently. The birds appeared to have stopped singing and even the breeze through the bare trees seemed to have disappeared. Looking around she stared intently into the dense interior of the forest. Something whizzing past her ear made her jump and her gaze involuntarily followed the missile until it became embedded in a nearby tree. Momentarily frozen to the spot, she stared in horror. It was an arrow! Someone was shooting at her! Her heart beating erratically, she caught hold of Sumo’s lead and ran for cover. Another arrow had her almost fainting in fright. An inch to the right and she would have been killed. Running as fast as she could, Sumo grumbling deep in his chest keeping pace with her, she hid behind an enormous oak, the trunk double her width. Pulling Sumo close she put a restraining hand on his muzzle and his growls became nothing more than a rumble in his mighty chest. Fear dried her throat and sweat trickled down her spine. The snapping of a twig froze her limbs—he was near.

  A movement in her peripheral vision and a man strode into sight, and in his hands was a crossbow, the arrow already in place. Sumo growled and the man spun in her direction. Time seemed to stand still as they stared at each other, and then he lifted the bow and Sumo was pulling loose and launching himself at the man, his size and bulk knocking him to the ground, and in the scuffle the arrow left the rest. This was her chance and quickly gathering her wits she ran toward her assailant and in turn became the assailant as scooping up a fallen branch she lifted it high and brought it down hard onto the man’s head. A grunt and he lay immobile. Pulling Sumo away, she quickly realised with a sinking heart that the dog was injured, the arrow had grazed his thigh and blood was dripping from the wound and he was limping unable to bear his own weight. Hugging the dog to her, she praised him and kissed his soft head. He had in fact saved her life. Taking off her jacket, she removed her sweater and the small vest underneath. Quickly pulling her jumper and coat back on, she wrapped the vest around Sumo’s wound and tied it in a firm knot. It was an effective bandage, stemming the flow of blood, but the wound would need a vet’s attention. The man began to stir and she jumped like a scolded cat.

  “Sumo,” she whispered. “I can’t take you with me, you will slow me down and we could both get killed.” She thought for a moment. “Home,” she whispered to the dog. “Sumo, go home and find Mason.” The dog looked at her, his black eyes soft and deep like limpid pools full of love and trust. Wanting to cry and keep the big dog with her, Holly hardened her heart. If nothing else she had to save the dog. “Go, Sumo, find Mason,” she repeated and with one last lingering look the dog quickly limped away looking back just once before he disappeared from sight. Hearing a noise behind her, she gave a small scream as the man staggered to his feet, his searching gaze finding the crossbow. Acting quickly, fear giving her speeding wings, Holly once again scooped up the branch and brought it down against the back of his head. Stumbling over his own uncoordinated feet, the man fell to his knees but failed to lose consciousness. Scared beyond anything she had ever felt before Holly lifted the branch again but couldn’t do it. Another blow might kill him and she couldn’t live with that. Seeing the crossbow, she dropped the branch and picked it up, it was heavy, too heavy. Knowing that carrying the bow would slow her down, Holly instead lifted the quiver of arrows and without thought threw them with all her might into the trees. Finding her bag, she gave a fleeting thought to the knife she’d secreted away and with a last look at the restless man she presumed was Alex, Holly ran deeper into the forest, her lungs feeling as if they were about to burst.

  * * * *

  Mason Black arrived home to find the place in an uproar. Mrs. Henry met him at the door wringing her hands, her old face streaked with tears. William the gardener was pacing the length of the kitchen, his boots leaving muddy footprints in his wake.

  “Oh, sir…” Mrs. Henry cried, throwing herself into Mason’s arms.

  A glass of sherry later and Mrs. Henry poured out her story interrupted by William adding his tuppence worth. The housekeeper explained how Mrs. Black must have left the house during the night, maybe kidnapped, and that there was a letter for sir on his desk, maybe a ransom note. She was almost certain something funny was happening because William had found all his prize Dahlia’s trodden down, the ones near the kitchen window, and that there were large footprints probably belonging to a man left in the flower bed. However, that wasn’t the half of it. Leaning forward, Mrs. Henry, her face earnest, spoke in hushed tones.
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  It had been about seven in the morning and William had been just coming to the kitchen for his morning cuppa when striding across the fields as bold as you like was a man in a pinstriped suit carrying a crossbow. “Foreign he looked, so’s William said.” She looked enquiringly at William, who stopped pacing long enough to nod vigorously.

  “Oh, sir…” she finished, wiping her nose on the corner of her pinny. “Sir, do you really think that something bad has happened to Miss Holly?”

  Patting her shoulder in a comforting manner, Mason murmured reassuring words of comfort to Mrs. Henry and, advising her to go easy on the cooking sherry, left the room, his face set and grim.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jules De Verne got slowly to his feet. His head was thumping like a bass drum and the rage that engulfed him was indeed murderous. The woman wouldn’t get away with trying to kill him. Picking up the bow, he looked around for the quiver of arrows and finding none let out such a roar that the birds, startled, flew wildly into the air. Staggering forward he stared at the ground, the leaves in the area were disturbed from their previous struggle. However, leading away from the area were squashed mushrooms and disturbed undergrowth that indicated the way the woman Holly had gone. Following the signs of destruction, Jules came across his quiver containing nothing but one lone arrow. Teeth clenched and eyes narrowed, he scanned the area, his sharp sight discovering more arrows caught in bushes and bracken. He smiled a ruthless twist of his lips. The woman was a fool. If she’d had any sense she would have killed him, but now he was alive and more determined than ever to take his revenge. Still dazed, his eyesight blurred, and his head pounding, Jules moved deeper into the forest. He was consumed with the need for vengeance, and cursed the day he’d ever contacted Holly.