by Ashe Barker
“Er…”
“Yes,” Tom interrupts me, his tone brooking no argument. The charge nurse just nods and gestures for us to follow him. We troop along in his wake and find ourselves in a small cubicle, dominated by a high bed where Mrs Richardson—Grace—is propped up against a huge pile of pillows. She’s attached to a drip, and has one of those huge crocodile clips on the end of her finger to monitor her pulse. Quite irrelevantly, it conjures up images of a nipple clamp—maybe I’ve been around Nathan Darke for too long. Or not long enough.
Rosie’s chin is just about level with the edge of the bed so Tom picks her up for a proper look.
“Ooh look, all these visitors.” Despite her ordeal Grace is all beaming smiles, reaching out to stroke Rosie’s cheek. And, overcome by the relief, I suppose, Rosie immediately bursts into tears. The charge nurse pushes a box of tissues into my hands and leaves us to it.
I’m dabbing at Rosie’s tears and that diverts my attention briefly, but not for long. Back there in Nathan’s bedroom I was terrified, we all were, and now that Grace does appear to be all right we’re all desperate to know what happened.
“Are you okay? Really? You scared us to death. We came back and found you out cold on the bedroom floor. What on earth happened to you?” Fear and relief make a heady combination, and my tone is probably sharper than I intend. Even so, three pairs of curious eyes are turned on the invalid, all waiting for an explanation. Mrs Richardson looks distinctly embarrassed, plucking at the crisp white sheet tucked around her.
“Oh, it’s so silly really. I was stripping the bed to do the washing. I pulled the duvet off and sort of got my feet tangled in it and tripped over. I’ve no idea how I managed it. I went down hard, on my hip. I knew I’d busted something and I didn’t dare move. I could hear Barney barking downstairs. Then I blacked out. I think I came round a little bit, once or twice. I remember hearing voices, and someone holding my hand. But the next thing I knew, properly and consciously, I was in this bed, wired up to all these gadgets. And I didn’t even make you two your dinner. I’ve a nice bit of lamb, still in the fridge…”
“A duvet! You got your feet tangled in a duvet!” I can’t keep the astonishment out of my voice. The laughter comes hard on its heels. You couldn’t make this up.
“Well, it’s a big duvet. King size.” The defensive response is followed by a few moments of stunned silence before all four of us collapse, howling with laughter.
The charge nurse comes back with more tissues and tells us to keep the noise down. We do try, but the cocktail of relief and hilarity is powerful, intoxicating, and hard to control. After another half-hour or so of grumpy looks and shushing by the hard-pressed A & E staff a porter bustles in our direction to wheel Mrs Richardson up to the ward. We take that as our cue to leave so we all troop out and make for home.
Tom’s driving us in Mrs Richardson’s car, and I text Nathan with the news.
Hi. Little problem at home, Grace fell and broke hip. She’s OK, in hospital. Rosie’s fine. More later. Eva
Less than three minutes after I hit ‘send’ my phone is ringing. It’s Nathan. And he’s frantic. I answer, to be bombarded with a barrage of questions. What happened? How? When? Where? I answer as best I can, and he starts to calm down once he realises that matters are under some semblance of control in his absence. When I get to the bit about the duvet I try to be serious, honestly, but know it sounds ridiculous.
Attacked by a duvet, wrestled to the ground by a king-size, duck-down-filled monster. Out cold for hours, likely to be laid up for weeks.
Ignoring my unseemly giggles Nathan is all efficiency and business, assuming control again. Always the Dom…
“I’ll get back as soon as I can but it won’t be for a few more days at least. Can you hold the fort for a little while, until I sort something out for Rosie?” His composure seems to wither somewhat as he realises how short on options he is. “Shit! Tom’s on his own, and he’s got the farm to run. There’s Mrs Appleyard in the village, I suppose. Maybe Daniel can help out. I’ll ring him…”
“Whoah! Ring Daniel? What Daniel? And why?”
“Daniel. Dan. My brother. He’s a vet, in the Lake District. He’ll have to drive down or maybe you could drop Rosie off up there…”
“Why? I mean, I’m sure he’s lovely and we could go see him if Rosie fancies that, but we’re fine here. There’s no need for anyone to drive anywhere. Except you, back from the airport, as soon as you’re able to manage it.”
“I can’t ask you to look after Rosie full-time. You were hired as a part-time music tutor, not a full-time nanny. It’s not fair to expect it of you—”
“It’s got nothing to do with jobs. I’m your…friend.” I settle for the most innocuous word I can come up with given the two pairs of ears in the car with me. “And Rosie’s. As long as she’s happy to stay with me, I’m happy too. And we will be fine. Honestly.” I look over my shoulder to Rosie seated in the back and she’s nodding furiously. That settles it. “Rosie agrees. And Tom’s here too in case we get stuck. He came with us to the hospital and now he’s driving us back. So you just concentrate on getting some sense out of your Turkish builders so you can come home, and don’t worry about us.”
The silence at the other end is deafening. Then, “Eva…” I wait for him to go on, to say that I’m not up to it, not allowed, somehow not good enough. But that’s not what’s on his mind at all.
“Miss Byrne, you are sounding more than a bit bossy. I think you know where that’ll get you.” His tone is one not to argue with, back in full Dom mode. I gasp and glance round anxiously at Tom and Rosie. He continues, “I know you’re not alone so just listen and don’t speak. I’ll keep my voice down.” He does—I have to press the phone hard against my ear to hear his words, so softly spoken but steely in intent. “I’ll be back in a few days, and when I get there I’m going to spank your beautiful bare arse so hard you’ll not sit down for a week. But before I put you across my knees I’m going to clamp your nipples, and don’t expect any ice this time to help you. This will hurt. You will scream. And finally I’m going to fuck you, hard and fast and very, very deep. You’ll love that bit, something to look forward to while you’re bent over my knees, begging me to stop. Are we clear?” At my stunned silence he is insistent.
“Miss Byrne, just say yes—that you’ve heard and understood.”
“Yes.” I answer, hoping my voice isn’t shaking.
“And, Miss Byrne, this conversation is not over. But I do require privacy for the things I want to say to you next on this subject. So, you’ll phone me back later, when you’re alone. In bed. Naked. Is that clear and understood?”
“Yes,” I whisper, a bolt of pure lust shooting through me. He’s two thousand miles away and can still make me wet with a few well-chosen words. And a promise of phone sex to come. I hope.
I decide to live dangerously, see what might happen.
“Do you need me to…to pick up any of your stuff? From Leeds?”
“Thank you for offering, Miss Byrne, but I have all the items I’ll need. If you care to check in my bedroom you can select the things you want to use. And, Miss Byrne, your cockiness just earned you a punishment fuck. Do you remember what that is?”
“Yes. But, Nathan, I—”
He cuts me off, sharp and authoritative. “We’ll talk later. When you’re…ready to proceed. Okay?” He means in bed, and naked. Maybe then I’ll be able to talk him round as far as the punishment fuck is concerned. I intend to try.
His next words are quiet, but stun me even more than the Dom talk.
“Eva, one last thing. I just want to say, I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you. I am so incredibly grateful to you, for looking out for Rosie. I can’t tell you.”
Usually pretty quick on the uptake my head is reeling with the change in gear. “What? You’ll let me look after her? It’s okay, then? You don’t mind me staying with Rosie, just us two?”
“Mind? Fuck no. I just would
n’t have dared to ask you. Are you okay for cash? I’ll sort out access to my credit card for you so you can buy in what you need.”
“I’ve got my own money. I’m all right, really.”
“I’ll sort it. And, Eva, thank you. Really.”
“You’re welcome. That’s what friends are for, or so I imagine.” Back to the business in hand, I remember poor Grace. “And talking of friends, I’ll let you know what’s happening with Grace as soon as I find out something definite. At this stage, though, she’s down for surgery tomorrow to reset the hip.”
“Where is she?”
“Airedale General Hospital.”
“Right. I’ll send flowers. When are you seeing her again?”
“I’m not sure exactly. Soon, though. Tonight, maybe.” I turn to Tom. “Tom, could Rosie stay with you for a couple of hours this evening while I go back to keep Grace company?”
“Sure. We’ll go mud-slopping and check on the latest piglets. How’s that sound, tiddler?”
“Cool!”
Putting the phone back to my ear again I can hear Nathan chuckling. “Seems Rosie fancies getting down and dirty with the baby piggies so that’s settled. I’ll drive back to the hospital tonight and see how Grace is getting on.”
“Tell her I’m thinking about her, and to get well soon. I’ll see her when I get back. And—thanks Eva. For being there.”
“Where else would I be? I told you, I’m staying. And—I’ll phone you later…”
“You do that, sweetheart.” And with a click he’s gone. And I need a change of underwear very urgently.
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About the Author
In 2010, Ashe escaped a career in the public sector and started to write. Now she counts herself one of the lucky few who spend their time doing what they love.
Ashe has been an avid reader of women’s fiction for many years—erotic, historical, contemporary, fantasy, romance—you name it, as long as it’s written by women, for women. Now, at last in control of her own time and working from her home in rural West Yorkshire, she has been able to realise her dream of writing erotic romance herself.
She likes to write about people, relationships, and the general cock-up and mayhem that is most of our lives. She often writes about places she’s known but her stories of love, challenge, resilience and compassion are the conjurings of her own imagination, with a hefty dose of kink to keep it interesting. We all need to have a hobby.
Ashe loves to craft strong, enigmatic men and bright, sassy women to give them a hard time—in every sense of the word.
When she’s not writing, Ashe’s time is divided between her role as resident taxi driver for her teenage daughter, and caring for a menagerie of dogs, rabbits, tortoises, and Colin the hamster.
Email: [email protected]
Ashe loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.
Also by Ashe Barker
The Dark Side: Darkening
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