by Grace Lowrie
At length we paused to catch our breath and I basked in Liam’s smile.
‘You look like some sort of wild animal in this big furry coat.’
I stepped back away from him and he reluctantly loosened his hold on me with an unspoken question in his expression. Without taking my gaze from his, I began to unbutton my coat, starting at the neck and slowly working my way down. His reaction made me smile; his eyes widening and his jaw dropping as he began to see that I was entirely naked beneath, except for my shoes. The coat slipped from my shoulders and crumpled to the ground at my feet and he cursed under his breath.
His gaze roamed all over my body, bright and hungry; warming my skin along with the flames. Gently placing his big hands on my shoulders he looked deep into my eyes.
‘I’d like to make love to you, Melody’ he said hoarsely, making my hair stand on end. I nodded my consent and then watched as he picked up my coat and spread it out on a large pile of dry leaves. It provided a soft, comfortable mattress as he helped me to lie back, removed my shoes, and then knelt to straddle my legs with his own.
‘Are you warm enough? We can move closer to the fire if...?’ I shook my head and silenced him by sitting up and pushing his jacket from his shoulders. Removing it he then tugged his jumper and shirt off over his head all in one go. His naked torso was stunning in the firelight – the shifting light and shadows burnishing his skin and emphasising the sculpted lines and planes of his muscles.
Kissing me, he urged me to lie back again, and surveyed me with steady concentration as he began to run his warm, callused fingertips lightly down my body. He started at my neck; tracing the outer curves of my breasts and my ribs, always skimming past my erect nipples which strained tightly, desperate for his touch. Tenderly he continued on down, softly circling my belly and my hips, and by the time his knuckles were grazing my thighs I was a mess of tingling, sensitive flesh. His gentle patience, combined with the clear bulge in his pants, had me aching and quivering with anticipation.
Once he’d reached my toes he stretched his long body out beside mine, supporting himself on one elbow, as he re-traced the same route but this time with his mouth; quietly trailing kisses down from my neck, pausing only to blow air over each breast and dip his tongue inside my navel. I writhed and squirmed beneath his lips, fisting the fur beneath me as his hot mouth brushed tantalisingly close to my entrance, but shifted softly to the trembling inside of my thighs. He kissed, licked, and nipped at them as I bucked beneath him; silently urging him to move higher. What new kind of torture was this? How could such a big, strong man be so gentle, attentive and teasing? As Liam worked to prove his love, he imbued my body with so much pleasure that I felt deliciously molten; as if my bones were melting with desire from the inside out. But I wanted, needed, more; I wanted him inside me; to consume me.
Sensing my growing desperation, he climbed to his feet, retrieved a condom from his back pocket, and kicked off the rest of his clothes. I waited at his feet; feverish and panting with anticipation, while he stood over me, naked before the flames, and sheathed his jutting cock.
As he lowered himself on top of me, supporting himself on his arms, he dipped his head, returned his mouth to mine and flexed his hips; rubbing himself between my thighs. Deep in his chest he groaned and I shuddered in response, wrapping my legs around his hips and plundering his mouth with my tongue; begging him to take me. At last he did so, and I stared into his eyes, mesmerised by the ardent, almost pained, expression on his face as he pushed up inside me; burying himself from root to tip and making me whole again.
He paused there for a moment, regaining control, before withdrawing and re-entering me with a long, slow thrust which made me gasp and sigh. Soon he was rocking back and forth inside me; his chest pressed to mine, his muscles flexing beneath my fingers, and his abdomen repeatedly rubbing my clit in a delicious rhythm. My insides trembled and tightened as he drove me higher and higher and I dug my nails viciously into his back as I clung to the edge of my sanity.
‘Oh God, I love you, Mel,’ he muttered with a ragged breath, his words pushing me over that edge. With one last thrust he emptied himself inside me, moaning, as I shattered and convulsed beneath him; overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of our love.
Withdrawing he collapsed to one side of me, to avoid crushing me with his weight, and I nuzzled my face in his chest as our breathing started to return to normal.
‘How dare you!’ The cold condemnation cut through the night, turning my blood to ice as Liam stilled beside me.
No! How could he be here – he wasn’t due back till next week...
Liam was quick to pull the edge of the fur coat up over me, a seemingly instinctive and belated attempt to preserve my modesty as I lay frozen in shock. Reaching for his clothes, Liam staggered to his feet and attempted to pull his jeans back on while I looked for the source of the voice.
Gregory was standing at the edge of the clearing, partly obscured by shadows now that the flames of the bonfire had abated. He wore his heavy black winter coat over his suit, his hands fisted tightly at his sides as he stared at me, his face ugly with barely controlled rage.
‘Get back to the house,’ he said sharply.
I glanced at Liam, who was tugging the rest of his clothes on, while I slipped my arms into the sleeves of my coat and pulled it tight around me. I was now wearing it inside out; the fur soft against my skin but little comfort.
‘Now, Melody,’ Gregory barked, taking a threatening step closer.
I was reluctant to leave the two men alone, but defying Gregory now would only make him angrier. As I stood and pushed my feet into my shoes, Liam and I exchanged a look in which he tipped his head in the direction of the house, encouraging me to go. And with that I was walking back the way I’d come; avoiding Gregory’s eye, but holding my head high and any tears of frustration firmly in check.
Chapter Forty-five
Shit. How could we have been so careless? My need for Mel blinded me to all common sense and now I was going to suffer the consequences. Sinclair, her gaoler of a father, looked about ready to kill me, and as I shoved my feet back into my boots I fervently hoped he wasn’t armed.
‘You really are the lowest of the low,’ he said, taking two angry steps towards me.
‘Look, I’m sorry you had to find out this way–’
‘Don’t you dare try to tell me you’re sorry, you filthy son of a bitch! I give you a job, good money, and this is how you repay me? By seducing my precious girl right under my nose; taking advantage of her special needs–’
‘Special needs...?’ I interrupted.
‘She can’t speak, you idiot, or hadn’t you noticed? She’s entirely reliant on me; she’s vulnerable and innocent and she’s mine, damn you, you will not take her away from me!’
Bewildered by his outburst I held my hands up in a placating manner. ‘Are we talking about the same person? She may be mute but Mel seems pretty independent to me, and she’s old enough to–’
‘Don’t lecture me on my own wife, you ungrateful bastard–’
‘ Wife!’ I was stunned; I could feel my heartbeat changing, the back of my neck prickling with sweat. ‘What do you mean wife? I thought–’
‘Of course she’s my wife, what did you think? What did she tell you? You didn’t believe any of her lies did you...?’ he sneered.
My confusion congealed into a painful sense of shame and despair as his words rang in my ears. Hadn’t I known all along that something wasn’t right about their relationship? Hadn’t I avoided asking her more questions because I didn’t want to hear the answers? I’d chosen to believe Mel when she said Sinclair was her father, because I’d wanted to believe her; because I loved her and coveted her for myself.
‘She’s a dreamer; a fantasist; she lives in her own little world and lies all the time,’ Sinclair said. ‘You can’t believe anything she’s told you.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I muttered.
‘I don’t want your apologies, jus
t leave, go on. I don’t ever want to see you around here again!’ Spittle sprayed from his mouth as I passed him. He stank of whiskey and cigars; of a wealth and influence that seemed to mock me.
It started to rain, and that wretched man followed me all the way back to the house, ranting about how he was going to make sure I never got any decent employment ever again. His words barely registered. My mind was filled with Mel; all the months we’d spent together; all the moments we’d shared; the stolen looks, texts and kisses; the way we’d made love... was it all lies?
An immense pressure was building in my chest and I had a pressing urge to get as far away from Wildham Hall as possible. As the rain grew heavier I didn’t bother to stop at the stables to collect my things. The same, familiar gaze penetrated deep into my bones from the windows of the house as I passed, but I studiously avoided looking up. Snatching the key-fob which activated the front gates from the dashboard of my van, I chucked it at Sinclair before climbing in and slamming the door. As I executed a jerky three-point turn, narrowly missing the Merc, the rain hammered down on the wind-shield like a manifestation of my misery. Aggressively I took off down the drive, almost colliding with the still-opening gates at the other end, before accelerating away into the black, wet night, with a scream of burning rubber.
Chapter Forty-six
I waited for Gregory in his study, with my sleeve pushed up and my first question scrawled in Biro up my arm: What did you say to him?
He ignored me as he entered, poured himself a large scotch, downed it, and then poured himself another. His hand was shaking, but whether with rage or something else I couldn’t be sure. Upon finding us in the clearing his reaction had been worse than I’d imagined – I’d never seen him so riled up – and I needed to know what had transpired after I left. But still Gregory made no reply. He was a master at using my own silence against me.
Storming towards him, I yanked the tumbler out of his hand and whiskey slopped onto the floor. He looked at me then, with glazed eyes, and I realised he’d already had a skinful.
‘How could you?’ he said, his voice dangerously smooth. ‘How could you let that Neanderthal touch you?’ He went to put his arms around me and I shrugged out of reach, pointing again at the question on my forearm.
‘How could you let him touch you, and not me...? It should have been me,’ he added, this time grabbing hold of me with greater determination. ‘I thought you’d changed... started dressing differently – more provocatively – for me, but all along...’
I twisted away, but he pulled me back against him and his erection jabbed at my behind. A shudder of revulsion swept through me, the glass slipping from my hand and spilling amber liquid all over the carpet. As he pressed a kiss to the side of my face my stomach churned with nausea. Furious and frightened, I stamped on his toes with the heel of my shoe; launching myself out of his grasp as he recoiled in pain. Without turning back I fled through the house towards my bedroom, horrified by Gregory’s behaviour and wondering if I was somehow to blame.
There had been moments, particularly in the last year or so, where I’d caught him looking at me oddly and he’d certainly been more attentive recently, but I’d hoped it was all in my imagination; I hadn’t wanted to consider what it might mean. Who would want to believe that of their own father? But then I hardly knew him as a person at all; he was someone I occasionally shared a house and a meal with. He might be blood, but in every way that counted he was a stranger to me. Who knew what he might do?
I was surprised to pass Mrs Daly on the back stairs, I had forgotten she was there, but perhaps it was as well that there was a witness present, should I need one. Even so, I wasn’t about to stop and listen to her crow at me. In the nursery I switched on the light, grabbed the nearest sheet of paper and a pen and wrote in large letters: What are you doing? I’m not her! I’m not your wife – I’m your daughter!
I was holding it up in front of me like a shield by the time Gregory reached my doorway.
‘You think I don’t know that?’ he growled, snatching the paper from my hands. ‘You’re nothing like her; you never could be. She was perfect... she was everything to me... everything...’ With this admission he sagged, the anger draining from his features and his eyes dropping to the floor. Witnessing his grief was almost as uncomfortable as fending off his lewd attentions, and so I turned away. I still needed to know what he’d said to Liam. He’d sacked him for sure, and probably said plenty of nasty things, but the way Liam left, without even acknowledging me had me worried. Why had he looked so upset? Did he still love me? Would he keep his word and come back for me...?
‘What the hell’s this?’
I turned back to find Gregory staring open-mouthed at a phallic rendering of Pan in his hand. In my haste I’d scribbled my message on the back of a grotto drawing by mistake.
It was in that moment that Mrs Daly, who must have been hovering nearby, chose to exact her revenge.
‘Oh that’s one of those statues from the garden, isn’t it?’ she said, casually depositing a pile of clean washing on the end of my bed. She had never brought me clean washing before.
‘What statues?’ Gregory demanded.
‘You know – in that grotto garden, or whatever it is, in the woods behind the walled garden...’
‘The fernery?’
‘That’s the one – the gardener’s been restoring it and it’s full of rude figures,’ she said smugly, eyes gleaming.
Stunned, I watched this exchange, helpless to interrupt. I had no idea that Mrs Daly ever ventured into the grounds, let alone explored the grotto. Holy crap, had she witnessed Liam and I having sex there? The hideous notion made me flush with humiliation.
‘There were always rumours about that garden,’ Gregory said, his eyes returning to mine. ‘That’s why it was locked up – it was considered to be dangerous; a celebration of sin and debauchery; corrupting...’ His gaze dropped to where my coat was gaping open at the collar and I clasped it tightly closed around my neck, nauseated once again by his eyes on my skin. ‘I’d always assumed it was old-fashioned prudishness, but now I come to think about it, Cornelia was always afraid of that place. She never wanted me to open it; never wanted me to see what was inside. She used to say: “Sin spreads like a disease from generation to generation; infectious and all-consuming.”’
I shook my head. I could scarcely make sense of what he was saying, but he must be wrong. His eyes narrowed and slid around the room alighting on the mobile phone I’d carelessly left out. No! Before I could move, he swiped it up from the night-stand, glaring venomously at me as I stepped towards him, palms up in an openly begging gesture, pleading with my eyes.
Ignoring me, he rounded on Mrs Daly. ‘You knew didn’t you! You knew what was going on between the two of them and you never said anything...?’
‘No I... well I suspected, but I... it wasn’t my place to.’ I recognised the panic that flared up in her eyes, but she was on her own – she’d dug her grave and I, for one, would not be writing a single word in her defence.
‘Get your things and get out,’ Gregory said, balling up my drawing and discarding it on the floor.
‘Mr Sinclair, you can’t–’
‘I just did,’ he snapped.
‘But it’s her... she’s possessed by the devil,’ she said, pointing a crooked finger in my direction.
‘You could be right about that,’ Gregory said with a grim smile as he shoved my phone into his trouser pocket. ‘But that’s by the by – it seems none of my staff can be trusted and I’m sacking the lot of you.’ Stepping aside, he let her pass. ‘Be gone by the time I get back.’ Mrs Daly marched stiffly out of the room without another word. ‘And you...’ he said, turning back to me, ‘...you do not leave this room. Is that understood?’
I stared blankly at him and he took an angry step towards me.
‘Is. That. Understood?’
Knowing that it was not a good time to push him, I nodded, and he slammed the door behind him
as he left.
For a while I paced my room, too restless to sit, my mind a cacophony of emotions as I tried to process everything that had happened. Hearing the back door slam down below, I observed from the window with a growing sense of unease as Gregory went to the stables and re-emerged a few moments later with a battery-powered torch and what looked like a large sledgehammer. What had I done? Following the intermittent torchlight with my eyes, I miserably traced his progress through the trees as he went to destroy the compelling mythological figurines that had helped bring Liam and I together. I was grateful that Gregory wasn’t taking a sledgehammer to Liam himself. But upon hearing the first crashing blow in the distance, I had to switch on my music, and turn it up loud.
Chapter Forty-seven
‘Another round,’ I said, tossing a tenner onto the bar.
Wendy was busy rinsing glasses and hesitated, her gaze flicking from me to James and then back again. ‘You sure that’s a good idea?’
Giving her a hard stare I raised one eyebrow.
‘You boys have been hitting it rather hard tonight, that’s all...’ Her misplaced concern pissed me off, but James jumped in before I could argue:
‘Aw go on, Wendy, pour him another pint – he’s a big lad, he can handle it.’
She hesitated again and James flashed his most charming smile. ‘Right, well, there’d better not be any trouble or I’m holding you responsible, James Southwood.’ Positioning a clean glass beneath the beer tap she began filling it with lager.
Wendy set my pint and change before me, called last orders and moved to the other end of the bar where are large group of punters were dressed up for Halloween.
‘So, are you ready to tell me what’s going on, big guy?’ I took a large gulp of cold beer, but this time James wasn’t going to let it drop. ‘Has this got something to do with Melody?’