Out of Sight

by Rebecca Duval

  Ethan reached for the waistband of her lace underwear, sliding it over her legs and dropping it to the floor beside the piano. Then he kissed her, moving from her mouth to her neck, to the hollow of her throat, tasting her heartbeat. He planted kisses on every inch of her body, revelling in the taste of her, and the way she writhed beneath him.

  “Ethan,” Isla murmured, her hands in his hair.

  He didn’t answer. He’d reached the apex of her thighs, and felt her tremble as his fingers trailed through the patch of hair he found there, already slick with moisture.

  “I want to taste you, Isla. All of you.”

  She writhed beneath the touch of his fingers. “Yes,” she gasped.

  Ethan dipped his head, and moved his tongue against her, felt her thighs clench around him. He drank her in, intoxicated by the scent, and the sounds she was making. A shudder rippled through Isla, and Ethan was sure she must be close. He was, and she hadn’t even touched him yet. Ignoring his own pulsing need, Ethan slid his hands up the inside of her thighs, and slipped one finger inside her, and then another.

  “Ahhh.” Isla’s body lifted, and she tightened around him. He could feel her release building, hear it in her breath, taste it...in that moment, kneeling in the dark, Ethan didn’t need his sight, his senses were engulfed by Isla’s desire, and it was a revelation.

  Isla’s hand tightened in Ethan’s hair, she bucked against his mouth and then she cried his name into the night.

  Ethan staggered to his feet half-drunk with desire. He heard Isla move, and then felt her lips, hot and tender against his chest.

  “I want you.”

  Her words tipped him over the edge, and Ethan growled into her hair. “Isla-” he grasped for one last minute of clarity before letting himself go under. “Are you sure? It’s not too late-”

  But already her hands were on him, and she guided him into her, with a low hum of satisfaction.

  He was in heaven.

  He was going to hell.

  *

  Ethan was inside her. It made no sense, and yet this feeling- this feeling made every kind of sense. He slid all the way in, filling her, before pulling almost all the way out again, over-and-over. Isla watched, mesmerised.

  His eyes were closed, his long dark lashes fanned out against his flushed cheekbones, his hair fell forward as he pushed himself all the way into her.

  Isla’s hands were all over him like they had a mind of their own. Moving from his chest to his neck and then trailing down his sides, stroking, grabbing, scratching and clawing, urging him on- faster, deeper, harder.

  He’d already given her one mind-blowing, toe-curling orgasm, but somehow it had only whetted her appetite for more. That wasn’t how this was supposed to work. A note of warning sounded in Isla’s head. It was supposed to be the scratch of an itch, something temporary, not the beginning of an addiction from which she might never recover. But it was hard to worry about that with Ethan’s pelvis grinding against hers at the end of every thrust.

  “Yes. Oh my God, yes. Ethan...” Isla’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she could feel the knot inside her loosening. She threw one hand out to the side, looking for something to grab onto but found only the slick, dark surface of the piano top. Isla flattened one palm against it, her other hand was knotted in Ethan’s hair, clinging on for life. She felt as though she was backed up against a cliff edge, with no idea of when she might fall, only knowing that she would.

  She looked up at Ethan, the muscles of his chest glistening with sweat, his face screwed up in concentration, and Isla tugged his head towards her, brushing her lips against his.

  When her second orgasm hit, she cried out against his mouth, speaking in tongues, the language of pleasure and surrender. The only recognisable word was Ethan’s name, which she called loud enough to be heard over the storm.

  Then Ethan was kissing her, his hands grasping hers, and pressing them into the top of the piano, and he was grinding into her, his hips moving in circles, his breath ragged. Isla met his thrusts, her core still clenching around him from the aftershocks of her own orgasm.

  “Isla-”

  Her name was a broken plea on his lips, and even through her bliss, Isla felt the anguish behind it. She wanted to reach for him, but her hands were pinned beneath his. And then Ethan swore, harsh and low, growling profanities into the darkness. His moans could have been pleasure or pain, it was only from the jerk of his hips and the slippery heat inside her, that Isla knew the difference, and even then she couldn’t be sure.

  Twenty Seven

  Isla couldn’t breathe. The blankets felt hot and heavy around her, she tried to push them off but nothing happened. She prised open one eye and saw why. It wasn’t a blanket weighing down on her chest, but Ethan’s bare arm slung across her, and the heat came from his body, pressing against her side, his breath blowing gently on her neck with every steady inhale and exhale.

  Memories flooded through her. Music drifting down the shadowy corridor, Ethan standing naked in front of her as she lay on the piano, his hands on her, his mouth on her, their bodies tangled together in the candlelight…

  They’d moved to Ethan’s room, after. He’d insisted he wouldn’t sleep, but Isla had persuaded him to at least lie beside her.

  She twisted to face him, and he stirred, his eyes flickering beneath his lids. What did he see in his dreams? Not her, anyway.

  Isla sat up, gently lifting Ethan’s arm off her. His brow creased beneath the strands of dark hair falling across his face, and he murmured something illegible. Isla slid from the bed, careful not to wake him, and pulled on yesterday’s dress.

  There was a stillness to the castle. Maybe it was just the absence of the driving rain and howling winds, now that the storm had passed. Or maybe...no that was ridiculous, she refused to even think it.

  Isla padded down the corridor barefoot, unwilling to break the peace with the click of her heels. Was this really the same corridor she’d crept down last night? Everything looked different in the dawn light. She felt different.

  The castle walls may have survived Ethan and Isla’s union, but the walls around Isla’s heart were another question. ‘What else would it be?’ her own words echoed in her ears. What else could it be?

  The door at the end of the corridor stood wide open, giving her a view of the room beyond. Her heart stepped up a pace at the sight of the piano, and images danced tantalisingly behind her eyes, but her blushes turned to a frown as she got closer. She’d been so distracted last night, and it had been so dark, but in the morning light, it was clear to Isla this wasn’t just any piano. She gasped at the familiar inscription and date stamp.

  It was a vintage Steinway, clearly painstakingly restored and cared for. This was it. The elusive piece she’d been searching for all this time. The one thing she’d found within the walls of Rosehill that could potentially save Parsons & Co.

  Isla lifted the piano lid and trailed her fingers across the keys. If she sold this for Ethan, her percentage would keep the business afloat for at least a year. Her finger slipped against a key, and a hollow note splintered the silence. No. She couldn’t.

  Isla closed the lid and turned away quickly. Her gaze fell on the dusty daybed in the corner, with a scratchy-looking tartan blanket strewn over it. Was that where he’d been planning to sleep? She felt a stab of guilt, quickly replaced by terror when she saw what was propped beside it. The gun.

  Isla’s mouth went dry and she averted her eyes, pushing away the memory of staring down its barrels petrified by fear. Why did Ethan MacRae, a blind property developer, own a gun?

  Making her way down the grand staircase, Isla held the gaze of the judgemental Douglas portraits as she passed. They hadn’t exactly made a success of their own time in Rosehill. Besides, she felt no shame about what had happened between her and Ethan. It felt inevitable somehow, as though forces bigger than her, bigger than either of them were at play. But she didn’t believe that, did she?

  God, she ne
eded a cup of tea.

  The kitchen was as quiet as the rest of the castle. Only the tap dripping into the cracked sink broke the silence. Isla hummed under her breath as she pottered around, the old tiles icy beneath her feet.

  She set the kettle on the stove, turned, and caught sight of Ethan in the doorway. Isla shrieked and pressed a hand against her chest.

  “I swear to god, Ethan, you need a collar with a bell or something!”

  Ethan’s expression was wild. He was wearing a pair of low-slung black jeans, and nothing else. His hands were braced on the doorframe, and his hair stuck out from his head in the most impressive, and alluring display of bedhead she’d ever seen.

  “Ethan?” Isla took a tentative step towards him. “Are you-”

  “You’re here.” He sounded stunned.

  “Y-es...”

  Ethan ran one hand through his hair. “I woke up, and you were gone, and I…” he trailed off, and realisation dawned on Isla. He thought she’d left.

  “You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you,” she said quietly.

  “I was asleep,” Ethan repeated dazedly. “I mean, I actually slept. In my bed. Overnight. With you.”

  Isla wasn’t sure which part he was most amazed by. “Erm, yes we...did.” She felt herself blushing. Well, this was awkward. Was he still half-asleep? Had he been drunk last night? No, she couldn’t believe that.

  “And I dreamt...”

  The awe in Ethan’s voice interrupted Isla’s wonderings. “You dreamt what?”

  Ethan shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. “Ach, it was nonsense. But you dinnae understand. I dinnae sleep, I dinnae dream. I live the same nightmare over and over every night.” Pain sliced through his features, and Isla reached for him instinctively, wrapping her arms around him. He jumped at her touch, before relaxing against her.

  “How is it possible?” he murmured into her hair.

  Isla pulled back and looked up into his face. “What?”

  Ethan shook his head. “This...you...” He shook his head. “You’re still here.”

  Isla frowned. “Where else would I be?”

  Something flashed across Ethan’s face, and he brought his hands to cup her face and kissed her with the same ferocity she remembered from last night. Sparks flew through her body, as Ethan’s lips moved against hers, and she couldn’t remember why this had ever seemed a bad idea when it was surely the best idea she’d ever had.

  Ethan gave a satisfied hum as Isla’s tongue pressed against his, and before she knew what was happening he had her backed up against the kitchen counter. Any idea she’d had, that last night had been an itch that they would scratch only once, evaporated at the feel of Ethan’s body, hot and hard against her, pressing her against the cold granite at her back. She should have known that this heat between them couldn’t be extinguished in one night.

  But what happened when it was? The thought nagged at her as Ethan nipped at her lower lip and Isla pulled back, pressing her hands flat to his bare chest. His heart thundered against her palm.

  “What, what is it? Did I do something wrong?” Ethan’s brow creased in concern and Isla’s heart ached.

  “No, Ethan. You didn’t. It’s just-” But what could she say? How could she explain her fear without sounding like she was asking him for promises she knew he couldn’t keep? Isla shook her head. “Nothing.”

  Ethan’s frown deepened. “It’s not nothing. Tell me.”

  “I was just wondering, what happens now. With this. With us.” It was the truth. Just not all of it.

  “What do you want to happen?” Ethan’s expression was wary. His brown eyes danced over her, and Isla studied them, picking out the individual flecks of gold in his irises, following the silver lines of his scars outwards. Her eyes dropped to his lips.

  “I want you to kiss me.”

  Ethan’s mouth curved into a lopsided smile, and Isla’s heart stuttered. Oh god, how would she survive this? How would she survive him?

  “That I can do.”

  Ethan brushed his lips softly over hers with a tenderness that was startling. Isla’s breath caught in her throat, as he moved his mouth down her neck. She gripped the countertop behind her as he dipped lower still, running his lips over her collarbone. He slid the fabric of her dress off one shoulder, raining kisses on the exposed skin, before moving over to the other side. His thumbs brushed over the lace of her bra, rubbing circles around her nipples, and Isla’s core clenched in time with his movements. He moved back to her mouth now, kissing her harder, his thumbs still circling, driving her to the brink.

  “Ethan-” she whimpered against his mouth.

  Ethan pinched one nipple hard, rolling it between his finger and thumb, and Isla gasped, her eyes flying open, just in time to see a shadow pass the kitchen window. She heard the crunch of gravel beneath feet.

  “Ryder’s here!”

  Ethan lifted her dress back onto her shoulder and kissed her softly on the lips.

  Keys scraped the lock, and the door creaked open.

  Ryder froze in the doorway, gaping across the room at the two of them. Isla flustered, backed-up against the counter, Ethan shirtless and glowering in Ryder’s direction. The kettle began to whistle.

  “Morning! I was just, umm...getting tea.” Isla’s voice sounded high and false even to her. She lifted the kettle from the stove and began pulling mugs from a cupboard.

  Ryder stepped through the doorway, and Isla saw that he wasn’t alone.

  “Connor!”

  She felt Ethan shift beside her, a frown falling across his face.

  “Isn’t it a little early for a visit, brother?”

  A flash of something crossed Connor’s face. He was clutching a cardboard coffee cup, and Isla saw that Ryder held a matching one.

  “Aye, well I didnae expect you to be up yet.”

  Isla had only met Connor twice, but even she could tell that there was something on his mind.

  He glanced at Ryder and then back to his brother. “I have a favour to ask you.”

  Ethan raised one eyebrow. “Do you now? Well, then you’d better let me get dressed.”

  *

  The fire in the study was unlit, and the room bathed in cool grey light. Isla shivered and tucked her legs beneath her. She sat on the chaise longue, clutching a mug of tea, while Connor sat in one of the armchairs, nursing his paper cup of coffee. Ryder knelt before the fire. They all looked up when Ethan walked in, fully clothed, his cane in one hand. He sat down opposite his brother.

  Did he know she was there? Isla shifted in her seat, wondering if she should excuse herself. Maybe they were going to talk business.

  “Is it work?” Ethan cocked his head.

  “No,” Connor answered quickly, and Isla caught Ryder’s sideways glance as he placed another log in the fireplace.

  “Well then, what is it?”

  Connor set his coffee cup down. “Dad’s birthday.”

  “Jesus, Connor. I said I’d come, didn’t I? What, now you want me to make a speech? Bake a cake?”

  Connor took a deep breath. “The venue has fallen through. They called me this morning, full of apologies. They’ve double-booked, and the other event pre-dates our booking, so…”

  “So?” Ethan repeated.

  Connor threw his hands up. “There’s no way I’m going to be able to find somewhere else in time, not with ten days to go, and two hundred guests!” He sounded frantic.

  “What do you want me to do?” Ethan frowned.

  Ryder lit the fire and sat back on his heels. His back was to the room, but Isla could see the tension in his shoulders.

  She frowned. He knew what was coming, Isla realised.

  Connor sat forward in his chair. “Well...I just thought that...maybe...we could...have it...here?”

  “No! No way. Absolutely not! Are you fucking mad?”

  The fire had taken, and Ryder got to his feet, turning slowly. Connor looked up at him, and Isla saw something unspoken pass be
tween them.

  Connor turned back to Ethan. “We’d only need one or two rooms.”

  “After living here alone for five years, you want me to suddenly throw open the castle doors for two hundred strangers?” Ethan ran a hand through his hair.

  “Not strangers, Ethan, family.”

  Ethan snorted. “My only family is sitting in front of me right now. How can you ask this of me, Connor?”

  “Because I have to! Because my only other option is to tell Ma and Dad that the whole thing is cancelled.”

  “They’ll get over it.” Ethan got to his feet and moved to the desk.

  “Aye, of course they will. Just like they’ve got over all the other disappointments in the past few years.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ethan asked over his shoulder.

  “Life! I’m talking about life, Ethan. See, when you opted out, the rest of us had no choice but to carry on. Making plans, maintaining relationships, running a business.”

  Ethan turned slowly, frowning. “You’ve never asked for my help with MacRae and Sons.”

  “I’ve never asked for your help with anything,” Connor snapped.

  Ethan was silent. Connor glowered across at him. They both seemed to have forgotten Isla and Ryder were there. Isla wondered if she should leave. She glanced over at Ryder but his eyes were fixed on Connor.

  “I cannae do it,” Ethan said eventually.

  Connor snorted, and got to his feet, shaking his head. “Well, I willnae say I understand, because I dinnae, but I cannae say I’m surprised. I expected you to say no. After all, I’m used to it.”

  Ethan winced. “Even if I could, it’s impossible. Look around you- the place is a wreck! There isnae a single, usable room in the entire-”

  “The ballroom,” Isla blurted. Everyone turned to her, including Ethan. She shrank into the upholstery at her back, wishing it would swallow her up. Damn. She hadn’t meant to speak out loud. “I’m just saying. It’s empty now, and it has the capacity…”

  Connor’s eyes widened.

  “It would need cleaning up, obviously-” Isla hurried on.