Beautiful White Lies Duet

by K L Clare

  “Witch.”

  He patted my ass as we walked out the front door.

  * * *

  I was outside Eastridge for the first time since arriving in England. It was seventy-eight degrees Fahrenheit, and not a cloud floated in the sky. The glorious sun caressed my skin the minute we stepped through the doorway. I took in the flourishing landscape and decided to paint it someday. An airy bouquet of earthiness after a long rain, freshly clipped grass, and lavender wove through my senses. I inhaled deeply, noting a faint, salty nip of the sea, and smiled.

  Thomas pulled up in a black Range Rover with dark tinted windows. Ben rode shotgun. John sprinted out of the house behind us and yanked open the car door before we reached it. I cuffed him on the shoulder and winked, receiving a sweeping grin and a countered wink in return. Will and I climbed into the back. He locked his arm around my waist and slid me closer to him after John piled in on the other side.

  “Weapons?”

  “Secured. You don’t want any of the Six?” Thomas looked at Will in the rearview mirror.

  “Not this time. Let’s roll.”

  Anxiety made its move. I squeezed Will’s thigh and chewed on my lip. “Is it safe?”

  He tightened his arm around me. “Yeah. The locals aren’t aware you’re here. There might be some initial confusion, but these people aren’t the enemy. They’ll support you, even protect you once they get used to the idea. There’s nothing to indicate assassins are here, but it won’t be long before they show up. I want you to experience Old Town before that happens.”

  I took a deep breath and forgot to release it.

  “Breathe, baby. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Someday you’ll walk the streets of London with me.” He winked and kissed my forehead.

  I exhaled and nodded. I trusted him. If he said it was okay, then it was okay.

  “I’m going to teach you how to use a gun. I bought one for you. You’ll handle it only when I give it to you.”

  “What?”

  “I’d be a fool not to teach you.”

  A gun wouldn’t be much use for me, not in the UK, where firearms possession was broadly prohibited. Will’s family was well connected, and he knew how to find policy loopholes, but his methods wouldn’t work for a foreigner like me. Still, I understood where he was coming from: I’d be exposed to guns, and I needed to know what to do should one fall into my hands.

  “I should learn to fight.”

  “No way,” he snapped.

  “But—”

  “No.” His back stiffened and he shook his head. “I won’t see you beaten and bruised.”

  I leaned over his lap and gawked at the passing scenery. Wild forget-me-nots bloomed along the edge of the forest, and bumblebees buzzed about the blossoms. Several deer loped throughout the trees. “We’ll see,” I said.

  Thomas drove north down the ridge until the estate ended near Old London Road, then headed south into the heart of Hastings. They referred to the area as Old Town. It could have been the model for Stonington, though it had an edgier feel. It was like the ancient town dangled from a precipice but worked hard to hoist itself up as it evolved alongside a younger, more hip generation.

  The streets were filled with people and celebrations. There were vendors selling drinks, food, fresh-caught fish, and crafts. Local artists painted portraits for those who posed. Solo musicians and traditional marching bands dueled for attention. A carnival queen and her court paraded through the cobblestoned streets.

  Parking was limited, and many streets were closed for the town’s annual week-long late summer festival. We pulled into a small gated lot behind a charming pub with a crown sculpture mounted above its front entrance.

  Will caught my unasked question. “It’s one of Ethan’s investments. His partner runs it.”

  A cute girl with short blond hair stepped out of another car and sidled up to Thomas. She was fashion-model thin and six feet tall with heels. He took her hand.

  “Ellie, this is my friend Kirsty.”

  She presented me with a timid smile and a nod. “Quite nice to meet you.”

  I returned the smile but saved my perceptible American-accented words for later, when she was more comfortable.

  We walked down a quaint alleyway with stacked Tudor-style buildings on both sides until it ended at the fisherman’s beach, or the Stade, as it was called. Not far to the west was the historic pier, reaching proudly into the English Channel even as it endured the workmen and machinery of a substantial renovation. The remains of William the Conqueror’s castle sat high upon the west ridge beyond the pier.

  “No sand?” I asked, stopping to slip off my sinking heels.

  “There’s some out closer to the water.” Will canted his head toward the channel.

  I looked down at the pebbles digging into the bottom of my feet. “Is this pebble beach part of the ecosystem or was it placed intentionally?”

  “Shingle beach. It’s natural.” One corner of his mouth curved with amusement just before he swooped me into his arms and headed toward the water. When he put me down, my feet hit soft sand.

  It frustrated me when he wore his dark aviators. I counted on reading his expressive eyes. “Take them off, Will,” I said.

  He hooked the sunglasses on his T-shirt and his hands on my bottom. “Better?”

  I locked into his gaze and nodded.

  “This sweet, plump arse fills my hands perfectly,” he teased, squeezing to demonstrate.

  “Plump?”

  “It’s perfect. Christ. You’re beautiful.”

  I pulled his face down until his lips burned near mine, and he took my mouth with his. “I can’t get enough of you, baby,” he said once he’d broken our deep kiss, his warm breath still touching my lips.

  It took me a moment to recover. “So you won’t be leaving tonight?”

  An eye-crinkling smile ate up his face. “Is that an order?”

  “Not at all. You give the orders around here, so I hear.” I kissed his cheek, then tugged on his arm. “Let’s walk. I want to see more.”

  It wasn’t an order or a demand. It was a suggestion. Suggestions left him an out when he needed one. I recognized how serious he’d become. From the moment he’d made his decision to take what he wanted on the tarmac in Connecticut, he was all in.

  Yes, I suffered when he wasn’t there at night. Missed his raspy whispers in my ear telling me everything was okay, the fire in his eyes when he looked at me, his equal measures of tough guy and tenderness, and the security of his arms. And I battled nightmares without him. But I wouldn’t use it to hold on to him. I needed to be certain he was making choices, not fulfilling obligations.

  Will grabbed my hand and pointed east. “I want to show you something down there.”

  We headed away from the activity, soon coming upon a quiet expanse of shoreline beneath the ridge. The English Channel’s tempestuous disposition had carved striking eroded walls into the sandstone cliffs. It was gorgeous. We dropped our things, and he led me into the water.

  Will pointed above the cliffs. “See on the right side of that cluster of Wellingtonias on top of the ridge?”

  I stepped back. The tide swept over my knees. Beyond the cluster of trees, the house’s second story and chimneys came into view. I stepped back again, and there was Eastridge, perched high above where we stood. She was an elegant stone fortress standing tall and proud, announcing her presence to all who dared look her way.

  “How beautiful,” I breathed, mesmerized.

  He tugged me closer to the beach and kissed me as an aggressive tide swept in.

  A burst of cool sea air washed over my flesh and left behind a blanket of goose bumps. It carried a whispered message as it had on the coast of Connecticut. I arched my back and let go, trusting Will to hold me while I closed my eyes to send my reply, acknowledging that it had found me. My hair floated behind me with the next hard-driving breeze.

  Right then, something peaceful, something so honest it almost hurt, stak
ed a claim in my unguarded mind and heart.

  Will pulled me back into his arms fully and pressed his forehead to mine. “You were never lost, Elle. I knew where you were all along. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  19

  The restrooms at Ethan’s pub were set in a wood-paneled alcove for privacy. I opened the ladies’ room door after freshening up and found Will waiting with the handsome, possessive smile that had awakened my soul and changed me.

  From our table I explored the pub’s artful, hipster charm. In addition to tables with board games painted on them, there were snugs with casual leather seating. The generous bar was handcrafted from reclaimed wood. Original fireplaces anchored each end of the pub. Local artists’ works for sale filled the walls, and daily newspapers and books were scattered about.

  I thought of Nick’s and the similarities. I thought of the old Victorian house where I grew up and the cottage at Lords Point. The gallery where I worked, the kids I taught. The stars over the open waters of the Atlantic. I thought of everything I had cherished in Connecticut. But truth be told, I didn’t miss it. I was too busy falling in love with England—the place where reminders of abandonment and heartbreak had grown distant.

  I snuggled deeper into Will’s side for reassurance.

  He leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose. “You’re reflecting a lot today.”

  “I’m . . . well, I think I’m happy here. It feels right.”

  A gratified smile possessed his face before a seriousness chased it away. “So I can stop worrying that I might have to chase you round the globe?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ll let me know if that changes?” He brushed his lips over mine.

  “Yes.”

  With tenderness and discretion, he kissed his way down my neck. “Ready to go home?”

  I twisted to see his eyes. “You need to start for London soon?”

  “I’m not going. Can’t sleep apart from you tonight.”

  His gaze jumped to a yellow envelope that the server placed on the table in front of him. “What the hell is this?” he snarled at her.

  “I don’t know, sir. A man paid me fifty pounds to put it in front of you.”

  “Show me,” Will commanded.

  “I can’t. He left out the back door when I came over to your table.”

  Ben flew to the back and burst through the door. He stepped back inside seconds later and shook his head. It was too late. The man was gone, camouflaged within the festival crowd.

  Will opened the envelope and pulled out two large photos. Both were taken from an elevated position and showed him carrying me from the plane. He was flanked by Thomas, Ethan, John, and Ben—an obvious protection detail. The Cross of Saint George was stamped on the front of each. He tossed the photos into the middle of the table, pushed back against his chair, and stretched. “War it is, motherfuckers.”

  Thomas returned from walking Kirsty to her car and picked up the photos. “I guess it’s on, then,” he said.

  They knew where I was. Assassins had watched Will carry me onto British soil.

  I swallowed hard and battled anxiety and fear as they worked to overwhelm me. They lurked in tandem and courted my mind, waiting for an opportunity to steal the kiss that would seal the deal. I shook them from my head, refusing to hide, choosing to fight. I corrected my posture and took a deep breath and released it. Despite my best effort, one traitorous tear found freedom and rolled down my cheek.

  “You’re safe—I promise.” Will caught the tear before it dropped from my chin. “No one will get past me.” He rested his lips along my temple. “I swear it, Elle. Please trust me.”

  I sniffled and then smiled. His commitment to me was unreal. It was beyond comprehension. “I trust you, Will. Take me home now.”

  After Ben inspected the car, he pulled up to the entrance, and the rest of us climbed in. He hit the lock button and met Will’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Left side of the street, dark sedan, two men. Drive or fight?”

  Will’s attention shifted to the sedan. “Get us out of town first.” The muscles in his arms tensed. He’d tucked me into both arms tightly. “Open up the cache, John.”

  Ben pulled away from the curb and headed out of town. The dark car followed closely.

  John lifted the mat and a panel beneath his feet and retrieved two pistols, inserted a loaded magazine into each gun, and handed them to his brothers without a word.

  Will cuffed Thomas’s shoulder, and Thomas gave him a quick nod.

  I stared straight ahead, choking back the fear that swam in my blood. Illuminated clouds hung low in the magenta and blue twilight sky, the sun having dipped below the horizon only moments before.

  Will strengthened his embrace. “Thomas and I are going to jump out. You will stay in the car, Elle. John will restrain you if you try to get out.” His tone was hawkish. He lifted my chin and stared hard into my eyes, seeking obedience.

  “Okay,” I breathed, my heart banging against my sternum.

  Will’s arms tightened more, creating an impenetrable cocoon. “Prepare yourself, John. Keep her in this car—by force if necessary,” he told his brother. Then he lowered his head and planted a soft, haunting kiss on my mouth.

  Ben accelerated. So did the car on our tail. He hit the brakes. Both cars skidded, tires screeching as rubber smoked and burned. Metal crunched and glass shattered as the sedan plowed into the back of us.

  Will absorbed the impact I should have felt.

  Ben threw the Rover into reverse and accelerated again, pushing the sedan until it dislodged from our bumper and lurched sideways, sliding into the gravel at the edge of the road.

  Will and Thomas were out of the car at once. In the time I twisted and tracked them through the broken rear window, they tore the two men out of the dark car and held them at gunpoint.

  Ben remained behind the wheel with the Rover still running. “Shit!” He slammed the gearshift into Park. As he leaped out, he shouted at John and me to stay in the car.

  John held my hand, the sweat of our palms mingling. “Oh, shit,” he echoed. “Look up ahead. . . .”

  I turned and saw a police car approaching from the opposite direction. It sped up and abruptly engaged its vibrant emergency lights. Wine rebelled in my clenched stomach. I fought the wave of nausea with measured breaths.

  Ben jumped back into the car and handed the guns to John. “Pull the mags and get these back into the floor.” A blast of crisp air slapped my face. He’d put the windows down. “Ellie, sit up straight and don’t give us away with panic. Will can fix this. This is an unfortunate car accident—nothing more.”

  20

  Before Will let go of my hand at the top of the stairs, he placed a tender kiss on my palm. “I need to touch base with Ethan and reach out to some clients. No more worrying, Elle. It’s been handled. See you in a bit.”

  A hot bath with the soothing rose essential oil Mary had given me helped ease the tension in my mind and body. My strength had crumbled once we had made it back to Eastridge. I’d cried, and Will had soothed me, promising me things I wasn’t sure anyone could ever deliver.

  He was sitting in the armchair talking on his phone when I came out of the bathroom. His voice was low as he spoke to Ethan. “Their information is on the police report. Shouldn’t be an issue. They were unarmed messengers. I was clear. They understand further involvement will cost them their lives. Need to get Thomas a new car.”

  I’d taken nothing into the bathroom with me other than the clean bra and panties I wore. I shrugged to myself and paraded toward the closet. I didn’t make it that far.

  Will cleared his throat and summoned me with those long fingers. “Turn round,” he commanded when I stood in front of him.

  I obliged, giving him the “plump” view he desired.

  He continued his conversation with Ethan as he stared at my ass. After he filled his eyes, he filled his lap with me, making sure my backside was snugly against his erection. “I’ll ring
you back later. Something just came up.” He disconnected and tossed his phone onto the table.

  “Really? Something just came up?” I teased.

  “You’ve been tormenting me with this pretty arse all day.” He gripped my hips and ground himself against my lace-covered cheeks, his words warm against my hair. “Give me what’s mine.”

  “Take it, savage.”

  A primitive grunt came from his chest as he moved us across the room. The back of my legs hit the mattress, and I fell onto the bed. He pulled himself into check as he stripped. “You’re okay, baby?” His eyes were fierce and filled with heat but softer than the night before. “Last night, I mean. Did I hurt you?”

  Will climbed onto the bed and supported the weight of his body above mine, inhaling against the skin between my breasts, exhaling, “Roses.”

  He had hurt me with his first thrusts the night before, but I wouldn’t concede to it. He was significantly bigger than I was, but once he’d stretched me, it was amazing. And more than that, it connected us on an emotional level never before equaled for me. I needed that from him.

  “Do it again, Will. Fill me. Make me feel.”

  We didn’t bother with a slow burn. We shared the same urgent sense of desperation—I needed him inside me, and he needed to be there. My fierce defender gathered my wrists above my head in one of his hands and brushed his lips over mine. “When I’m inside you, you’ll surrender to me completely. Every time, Elle.” Then he eased into me one rock-hard inch at a time. I panted and moaned, insane from the intense desire he stirred in me.

  His possessive whispers brought me to tears. “You’re an angel. . . . My beautiful angel . . . I’m never letting go. . . .”

  When he finally pushed in deep, he swallowed his name as I sobbed it, and then he kissed the tears that had slipped away from me. “Let go—give yourself to me,” he commanded. And as I gave up everything he claimed, we burned to ashes and became one breathless, sated existence. He maintained mind-blowing control, covering my mouth with his to absorb my loud cries and quelling his own when he came.