Out of Sight

by Rebecca Duval

  “If we don’t, how will we ever know where it comes out?”

  The bolt took some shifting, but eventually, with a lot of encouragement on Isla’s part, and brute force on Ryder’s, they got it unlocked. Ryder shoved hard against the wood and the trapdoor fell away with a clatter. He swung himself up with ease, his head and shoulders disappearing from Isla’s view.

  “Oh.”

  She could hear the disappointment in his tone.

  “What is it? Where are we?”

  Ryder lifted himself through the hatch and reached a hand down to her. “Here, see for yourself.”

  Ryder hauled her through the trapdoor like she weighed nothing at all.

  “Oh,” Isla echoed his sentiment as she emerged into the small, empty room. It was one of the bedrooms on the second floor, she realised, the one next to the old nursery. It had probably belonged to a nurse or governess…

  “Oh,” she repeated, with more enthusiasm. “Well, that makes sense.”

  “It does?” Ryder got to his feet and looked around the room with a frown.

  “The love letter, the one we found in the bible box...the bible box I found in that cupboard…” Isla gestured.

  She knelt to investigate the trap door. “And this would have been beneath the bed before it was cleared away...look, do you see how the lines of the floorboards have been followed, so it’s almost undetectable?”

  Ryder was still frowning, and suddenly Isla remembered. He hadn’t heard her read the letter.

  “A hundred years ago two people were in love at Rosehill, who weren’t supposed to be.”

  Ryder’s frown deepened before his eyebrows flew back up as realisation hit. “You don’t mean…John Douglas and his maid?”

  Isla glanced around the narrow room. “I don’t think she was just a maid if she was sleeping up here, but yes, possibly. The dates match up, and whoever had that bookcase installed would have needed means, authority and privacy. Something that the heir to a fortune would have had...at least until his secret was discovered, anyway.”

  Ryder ran a hand over his jaw. “But this is...incredible.”

  “There’s no way to know for sure. Not unless the ghosts are feeling chatty,” she joked, but Ryder only gave her a nervous glance.

  “I have to tell Ethan,” Ryder said. “He’ll definitely want to hear about this.”

  Isla bit her lip. “Of course.”

  “Unless you want to-” Ryder’s blue eyes met hers.

  “No,” she said softly. “I have some things to finish up. You go. I’ll put the trapdoor back in place, we don’t want Ethan falling through it.”

  *

  Ethan had wandered the grounds for what felt like hours, his cane scraping the hard ground. There hadn’t been any rain since the storm, the night he’d found Isla in the tower, the night she’d ended up in his bed for the first time. For what should have been the only time, but thanks to his weakness had become a regular occurrence.

  Autumn was giving way to Winter, and tonight would be Isla’s last night at Rosehill. Unless…Ethan paused at the doorway to the study, his hand on the door handle. Unless what? He wasn’t seriously considering an ‘unless’...was he?

  He twisted the handle and stepped into the room. The fire was roaring, and he heard a shuffle of feet against carpet, the clink of the poker against its stand.

  “I wondered where you’d got to.”

  Ryder.

  Ethan tried to ignore the flicker of disappointment he felt. He crossed the room, and joined Ryder by the fire, thawing his hands in front of the flames.

  “You’re never going to believe this...”

  Thirty

  Isla worked as late as she could until only a sliver of light shone through the castle windows. She’d long since given up on the idea of finding any last-minute treasure. She’d even stopped pretending to herself that she was just trying to be thorough, and ensure she wrapped things up before she left Rosehill for good.

  She was delaying the inevitable.

  And now she had to creep down the staircase in the darkness, say goodbye to Ethan, and drive away under cover of night, and pretend it was what she wanted because it was what they’d agreed. And because what other option was there?

  She had a life and a job to get back to, a neglected best friend, and a growing fear that she was already in over her head. Ethan had a traumatic past he wasn’t willing to share, and zero interest in taking their relationship further than the walls of the castle. What possible future could they have together?

  By the time Isla had made it to the door of the study she had managed to convince herself thoroughly that the only sane thing to do was kiss Ethan goodbye, and walk away, leaving nothing but an invoice behind her.

  The fire was flickering, sending long shadows up the wine-coloured walls. Ethan turned towards the door as Isla pushed it open, and her pulse stuttered.

  Was this the last time she would ever see him?

  Ethan stood beside the fire, his dark hair curling at his temples, his worn boots splashed with mud.

  “Isla?”

  She stepped forward. “Yes, it’s me.”

  “I heard you found something today.” His golden-brown eyes flickered.

  Isla took a breath. “Not something I can sell, unfortunately.”

  Ethan’s mouth quirked. “No. More’s the pity, since it sounds like a valuable find, and I dinnae have use for it.”

  “Never say never,” Isla said.

  “Do you have to leave right now, or-” Ethan gestured vaguely at the chairs.

  She shouldn’t. It would make it so much harder. She should just go. But first…

  “I have something for you,” she blurted.

  Ethan’s eyebrows lifted.

  Isla crossed the room and pulled the gift from her bag. Wrapping it had seemed pointless but she hadn’t wanted to just hand it over in a brown paper bag either. In the end, she’d settled for a piece of wide, velvet ribbon in deep burgundy, to match the bottle’s label. She knew Ethan wouldn’t care, but she did, and besides, she thought he could appreciate the texture of it, and the anticipation of untying the ribbon to feel the letters carved into the presentation box beneath.

  Isla lifted Ethan’s hands and placed the box into them.

  He frowned. “A present?”

  “Yes,” she said quietly.

  Ethan felt for the armchair with one hand and lowered himself into it. Isla sat opposite, her heart pounding. She didn’t think she’d ever been so nervous about giving a gift before. Maybe she shouldn’t have...maybe it would only make tonight all the harder…

  Ethan tugged on the bow and ran his hands over the lid of the box, his lips moving silently as his fingers traced each engraved letter.

  His eyes widened as he reached the date. “Isla, is this...”

  “Yes. I figured I owe you some. I think I’ve drunk more whisky these last few weeks than I ever have in my life.”

  Ethan smiled. “Aye, well I dinnae think you need to worry. I’ve had more than my fair share. But you shouldnae’ve.” His expression was unreadable as he lifted the lid, and smoothed his fingers across the bottle beneath.

  “This must have set you back quite a bit.” Ethan took the whisky from the box and lifted his head.

  “Don’t worry, I’m on commission,” Isla joked.

  Ethan got to his feet. “In that case, I’ll open it now.”

  Isla shifted in her seat. “Oh, no...I shouldn’t. I bought it for you, Ethan, so you could have a drink when I was gone, and…”

  Ethan frowned. “And what?”

  “I don’t know,” Isla admitted, her voice barely a whisper. She hadn’t thought beyond giving him the whisky and getting out of there with her heart intact.

  “I’d rather share it with you now.”

  Isla watched Ethan move towards the sideboard, and set out two glasses.

  “You know, you make it look so easy.”

  He lifted his head, waiting for her to go on.r />
  “To see you move around in here, no one would guess you can’t see.”

  “I’m treading a well-worn path,” he muttered, gesturing to the liquor bottles inside the glass cabinet.

  “It’s not only that. There’s the time you spend out in the grounds...you fare better in Rose Wood than I did with twenty-twenty vision…” Isla trailed off.

  Ethan poured the scotch, and carried the glasses to the table, setting one down in front of her. “What’s your point, Isla? Where are you going with this?”

  “What is it like, really?” Isla bit her lip. “I’ve never wanted to ask, in case it’s rude or insensitive, but after tonight, I’ll never see you again and-”

  Ethan raised one eyebrow. “And you want to spend our last night discussing the complexities of sight loss and how to navigate a world built on visual cues that you can’t process?”

  “No.” Isla gave a frustrated sigh. “I just want to understand.”

  “You can’t, Isla. No one can, who hasnae been through it.”

  “I’d like to at least try.”

  “Why? If you arenae going to see me again, why do you care?” He didn’t say it harshly but Isla felt the sting of his words nonetheless.

  “I don’t know,” she said. But it was a lie, and she knew it. Maybe he did too.

  Ethan sighed deeply and then lifted his glass in the air. “To parting gifts.”

  “Cheers,” Isla mumbled.

  She watched Ethan take a swig from his glass, before drinking herself. The whisky was rich and smoky. She felt the warmth in her throat, but she didn’t cough, and her eyes didn’t water. Either it was good Scotch, or she was getting used to this.

  Just as it was coming to an end.

  Ethan leaned back in his chair, resting his tumbler against his thigh. “What is it that you want to know?”

  Everything. Isla set her glass down on the table. “I want to know what it’s like for you. What your perspective is, how you visualise things and people. The castle, Ryder...me.”

  Ethan frowned. “Well, the castle I’ve seen. I bought Rosehill before I lost my sight.”

  Ryder had said as much. Still, Isla couldn’t imagine how he could keep a mental map of a place that size in his head at all times.

  “I’d visited it a few times before...so when I came back, I used that knowledge to learn the layout. I have my cane, I count paces. Sometimes I get it wrong. I’ve had a few injuries. Stone walls and hardwood floors dinnae make for soft landings, but it is what it is.” He shrugged. “As for Ryder, I asked him what he looked like when he first started working for me. I noticed other people were having...reactions to him, so I was curious.”

  Isla felt her eyebrows raise. “And? What did he say?”

  “Trouble.”

  Isla snorted.

  “I’m guessing from that reaction, you agree?” Ethan tilted his head.

  “He looks like a hitman pretending to be a butler,” Isla said. “Or possibly the other way round, I can’t tell.”

  Ethan’s mouth quirked at one corner. “He was in the army, long before I met him. But I suppose old habits die hard.” He turned to the fire, pensive suddenly.

  Isla lifted her tumbler from the table. “And me?” she prompted.

  Ethan turned. His eyes didn’t meet hers but skimmed across her face. “And you,” he repeated.

  He wasn’t going to answer. Isla swallowed her disappointment with her whisky.

  “You want to know how I imagine you?”

  “Yes.”

  Ethan took another swig of whisky. “I know you have a lot of hair.”

  Isla touched a hand to her hair and smiled.

  “I don’t know what colour it is.”

  “Blonde,” she said automatically.

  A flash of surprise crossed Ethan’s features before he continued. “You smell like a rose garden.”

  “My bubble bath,” Isla murmured.

  “You always wear heels. Even when you’re out walking in the woods.”

  Isla laughed. “I need the extra height.”

  “I can hear you coming a mile away,” Ethan said.

  “Does it bother you?”

  He shook his head. “If you wore trainers, I’d forever be confusing you and Ryder, and think how awkward that could get.”

  Isla smiled. She hadn’t expected jokes from him, not tonight, anyway. But maybe it was better they keep it light. “Right. Because other than the footwear, we’re very similar.”

  Ethan’s mouth twitched at the corner. “Aye.”

  Isla sipped her own whisky, watching Ethan over the rim of her glass. “What about sex?”

  Ethan’s eyebrows shot up. “What about it?” He sounded wary.

  Isla set the tumbler down on the table beside his. “Is it different? Without your sight?”

  “Yes.”

  For a moment Isla thought that was all she was going to get.

  Ethan shifted in his chair. “But…”

  “But what?” Isla prompted.

  Ethan shook his head. “I cannae explain.”

  Isla’s eyes flickered to the table between them, and then back up to Ethan’s face. “Then show me,” she said.

  Ethan tilted his head. “What?”

  Isla got to her feet and picked the discarded ribbon from the table. She placed it in Ethan’s hands. “I want to know what it’s like for you.”

  Understanding dawned on Ethan’s features. “Here? Now?”

  Isla frowned. “When else?”

  Ethan’s adam’s apple bobbed. “Are you sure?”

  Isla had never had sex blindfolded before, but if there was anyone she trusted to do it with, it was Ethan. And after tonight that wouldn’t be an option. He wouldn’t be an option.

  “Yes.”

  *

  They knelt across from each other in front of the fire, the sheepskin rug downy against Isla’s bare knees.

  “Put this on.” Ethan held the ribbon out to her, and Isla took it, the velvet brushing her fingers.

  The wide band just covered her eyes, and she knotted it in place behind her head. Between the thick burgundy fabric, and the dim study, she couldn’t see anything.

  “Done.”

  The fire popped, and Isla jumped.

  “Isla, if you want me to stop, just say so and I will, okay?”

  “Okay.” Isla ran her tongue across her bottom lip.

  “I cannae see you, and you cannae see me. If it’s too much, just take the blindfold off. You dinnae have anything to prove.”

  “I know.”

  Silence.

  No, not silence The flicker of the flames, the low whistle of a draft from beneath the study door, and Ethan breathing.

  “I’m going to touch you now.”

  “Okay.”

  Even with the warning, Isla jolted at the feel of Ethan’s arm on her shoulder. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be touched without any warning at all. How was Ethan not a nervous wreck? Then again, how many people touched him in his day-to-day life...other than her?

  Ethan’s thumb traced the line of Isla’s collarbone to her shoulder, meeting the sleeve of her dress. “I’m going to need you to take this off.” Ethan tugged at the fabric.

  Isla swallowed, and reached for the zip, peeling it down slowly, the sound louder than she’d ever imagined a single zip could be. She wriggled free of the dress, kneeling in just her underwear. The fire warming her bare skin on one side of her body, the other side rippling with goose pimples at the cool air in the study.

  Then Ethan’s hands were back, and her entire body goosebumped under his touch. He brought one hand to her face, grasping her chin gently between his finger and thumb to kiss her. His lips brushed hers with agonising tenderness, and Isla felt the first hum of impatience building inside her. Without her vision she couldn’t anticipate his next move, she could only wait for what came next.

  His hands slid into her hair at the base of her neck, drawing her closer. The denim of his
jeans met Isla’s bare legs, and she grabbed for the loose cotton of his t-shirt, anchoring herself in his kiss.

  “Lie back,” Ethan murmured against her lips.

  Isla reluctantly let go of his t-shirt and did as he’d asked. She expected him to follow her, but there was no sound that suggested movement. She could feel his presence, had a rough idea that he still knelt before her, but nothing was certain. Then she heard the rustle of fabric and the growl of a zip. There was a clatter of metal against hardwood, and a rush of air over her bare legs as something landed beside them.

  Ethan was naked.

  Isla lay still, her breath coming quickly. The sheepskin rug was like a cloud against her back. Her skin glowed with the heat of the fire, and with need- waiting, wanting Ethan’s touch. The sense of anticipation was almost unbearable.

  Then his fingertips were moving up her thighs, and plucking at her lace underwear, sliding it down with deliberate slowness. The lace scratching against her skin. Ethan’s fingers brushed the backs of her knees, and Isla squirmed at the sudden ticklishness. And then in one swift movement, her knickers were off, and Ethan had her ankles firmly in his grasp, lifting them into the air.

  He trailed kisses along her calves until Isla writhed beneath him. The ribbon slipped, and she lifted her hands to move it back into place.

  “Too much?” Ethan lowered her legs either side of him. She felt the gentle scratch of his leg hair against her smooth skin.

  “No, I was just...no, it isn’t. Don’t stop, Ethan. Please.”

  Ethan made a low noise in his throat, somewhere between a hum and a growl, and dipped his head between Isla’s legs, his stubble brushing her inner thighs, his breath hot against her.

  Isla knotted her fingers in Ethan’s hair, her thighs trembling against his jaw as his tongue swirled in ceaseless circles, and Isla felt the world slipping away, heard herself moan as though it was coming from someone else, unable to keep her hips from their own rolling rhythm.

  There was nothing but darkness, and glowing heat, and Ethan.

  Isla cried out his name, her fingers tangled in his hair, her thighs clenched against his jaw, and then, before she’d come down from her high, Ethan was shifting, bringing himself upright. His hands slid beneath her, lifting her from the sheepskin, and he was there, pushing into her, filling her, even as the aftershocks of her climax rippled through her.