How long she crouched there she wasn't sure. Each minute that passed seemed like a lifetime of torment. She screwed her eyes tight shut and covered her ears in a futile attempt to block out the noise of the storm. And eventually, the wildness abated as the storm blew over and went to wreak havoc further north. The rain continued, and gradually diminished to a trickle, and the keening wind was stilled.
Evie breathed a sigh of relief and stood up on shaky legs. She was cold and soaked through, and the prospect of a long walk back was not a pleasant one. But there was no alternative. She shouldered her pack and stepped forward, only to fall headlong as her right pump slid over the slippery wet rock.
Someone was screaming. It took Evie some while to realise it was herself making those dreadful mewling noises. Her left knee hurt where it had been gashed, and when she put her hand up to her face, she was horrified to find her fingers covered in blood. For long minutes she struggled to control her breathing, telling herself that she was ok, that everything would be fine once she managed to get herself together.
She limped back to the place where she had rested for her picnic lunch. The pain in her leg was dreadful, and her temple throbbed. The head wound was bleeding freely and she had nothing with her to quell the flow, so pressed as hard as she could with the palm of her hand. Fighting off the dizziness she continued through the darkened afternoon, somehow managing to climb back over the stone wall and onto the road.
She looked down. It was such a long way back, and she was bone-weary. Some sixth sense made her turn her head in the opposite direction, and there in the distance, set back from the road, was a house, and there was a light shining through the window. Evie trudged forward towards that light, stumbling ever more slowly as pain and fatigue threatened to topple her.
"Almost there," she muttered. "Keep going, Evie. Almost there."
'Almost' turned out to be another half mile away, but eventually she reached the house, solidly built of mellow old stone set under a steeply pitched slate roof with gables and quaint mullioned windows. At the end of her strength, she blundered on, through a little white-painted gate that led her along a winding garden path to the front door.
"Oh let there be someone home. Please, please let there be someone home..."
The door was painted white, and there was an old-fashioned door knocker in the shape of a lion's head. The eyes of the lion seemed to mock her as she reached to grasp the handle and knock ... once ... twice ... before sinking to her feet in exhaustion.
The door opened inward and a voice sounded as though from a great distance away.
"My God! You're hurt?"
Strong arms picked Evie up and carried her inside, and gently positioned her on the sofa.
"I was scared of the storm ... I-I fell and hurt myself," whispered Evie.
"Don't worry, you're safe now. I'll ... Evie? Evie! What the hell happened?"
Evie blinked. Dylan Draper was kneeling in front of her, his fingers carefully examining her head wound and the gash on her knee. She tried to speak, but couldn't. A big tear trickled down her cheek.
"There now. Shush, sweetheart. Explanations can wait. Let's get you sorted out first. I'll be right back." Dylan hurried from the room, and returned a few minutes later with a bowl of warm water, antiseptic, towels and a selection of Band-Aids and bandages.
In no time, he cleaned the blood from her face and neck and examined her temple. "The amount of bleeding may be alarming, but the good news is that the injury isn't severe. The wound isn't deep. Minor cuts on the head often bleed heavily because the face and scalp have got many blood vessels close to the surface of the skin. We'll soon have you fixed up." He carefully applied antiseptic and gauze. "The bleeding has stopped, Honey. I'll take a look at the knee now."
"Owww," wailed Evie as he cleaned away the grit and dirt surrounding the cut.
"Sorry, but it has to be done. Well, you've got yourself a proper skinned knee here, but you'll live." He patted the area gently dry with a towel, then applied a sterile adhesive dressing. "There you go. Good as new."
"Th-thank you," sniffled Evie.
"Here. Drink this." He held a glass of amber liquid to her lips and watched in semi-amusement as her face changed as she tasted the drink.
"Ewww! What's that?"
"Brandy."
"I don't like brandy."
"Tough. Drink it," he said in a tone that brooked no argument.
Evie drank the brandy, protesting and grimacing as she did so.
"Right. Now it's time for a hot bath." He picked her up as though she weighed no more than thistledown and carried her up the stairs and deposited her on a bathroom chair while he ran hot water in the bath.
Evie sat there as the bathroom filled up with steam and the fragrance of scented bath oils. Her head drooped. The brandy had warmed her but made her feel even more exhausted. She barely registered as Dylan lifted her arms up and pulled off her sodden t-shirt and bra. But when he stood her up and tugged down her shorts and panties, her eyes flickered open in shock.
"Oh!"
But before she had time to voice her protests, he was holding her again, and gently lowering her into the bath, where she sank into a nest of scented bubbles. It was bliss. Pure bliss. The trauma of the afternoon began to diminish along with her aches and pains as she half-dozed in the soothing water.
When Dylan returned, he held a denim shirt. "It isn't exactly your size, but it will do for now." Temporarily discarding the shirt, he picked up a big white fluffy towel. "Out you get, princess, let's get you dried."
Suddenly overcome with shyness at her nakedness, Evie cringed and shook her head, and sank back into the depleting bubbles. But Dylan just reached for her and lifted her out, and much to her embarrassment, began patting her dry with the towel, grinning as she made futile attempts to cover her breasts and pussy. When he was satisfied, he slipped the shirt over her head. It completely buried her, and reached below her knees.
"Enchanting," said Dylan, as he rolled the sleeves up. Then without further ado he picked her up again and took her downstairs. "I've got a fire going in the hearth in the sitting room. You'll be warm and cosy - can't risk you getting pneumonia after your ordeal." He set her down on the sofa. "Sit tight. I'll dry your hair and then we'll have some soup."
Evie felt different somehow. Her feet hurt. Her knee hurt. Her head hurt. Yet she felt strangely content sitting here half naked, being looked after by Dylan Draper. She realised she was enjoying being helpless and being pampered. It was comforting. She felt safe, and cared for - and she hadn't felt that way in a long, long while.
Dylan towelled her hair and then switched on the hair dryer, marvelling at the riotous curls that sprang beneath his fingers. At work, Evie always wore her hair either tied back in a ponytail, or in two braids. The latter gave her a juvenile look that, combined with her small size, had earned her the name of 'Little Evie'. Now that her hair was loose, it was truly beautiful. He combed it through with his fingers, teasing the long curls.
And then he remembered.
He remembered where he had seen her before. On that occasion, her hair had been loose, just like it was now. Well, well, he thought. Interesting. He regarded her speculatively through narrowed eyes as his brain processed the infinite number of possibilities that this revelation triggered. A wolfish smile curved the corners of his mouth. He hid it adeptly and picked up the hair dryer and towel.
"Sit there and behave yourself. I'll get us some soup."
Evie looked up at him, her face now pleasantly pink instead of white and strained. "Thank you, Dylan," she said in a small voice.
As he met her gaze, she read something in his eyes ... something she couldn't quite discern ... yet whatever it was, it excited her beyond belief. And somehow, she knew that he knew. There was a spark between them, there always had been, but now it was subtly intensified and full of unspoken promise.
"My pleasure," he said, and left the room.
---oOo---
Th
ey ate off trays in front of the fire. To her surprise, Evie demolished two bowls of soup and several large pieces of French bread.
"Oh that was so good. I'm stuffed," she said.
"Got any room for a piece of apple pie?"
"No thanks. It's tempting, but I couldn't eat another thing."
"Perhaps later. I'll get some coffee on. This is phase 4 of the Dylan Draper five phase action plan."
"It is?" Evie sounded puzzled.
"Uh huh. Phase 1 - clean and dress the patient's wounds. Phase 2 - administer brandy to said patient. Phase 3 - put patient in a hot bath. Phase 4 - feed her."
"Oh, right! Sounds like a very good action plan. What's phase 5?"
"Ah, you'll have to wait and see," said Dylan cryptically. "Coffee first."
"Can I help?"
"No. Sit tight." He gathered up their trays and headed for the kitchen, returning shortly with two mugs of steaming coffee. As he handed one to Evie, the clock on the mantel chimed six-o-clock.
"I didn't realise the time," said Evie. "I'm really sorry to inconvenience you like this. If you wouldn't mind drying my clothes, I'll leave as soon as they're ready to wear."
"You'll do no such thing," said Dylan firmly. "You'll remain here tonight so I can keep an eye on you."
"Oh ... but ..."
"No buts. Do as you're told, Evie."
His tone thrilled her. Not only his tone, but his whole demeanour. Evie bit her lip and looked at him shyly. As his blue eyes raked over her body clad only in the ridiculously big shirt, she trembled with a desire she hadn't experienced in a very long time.
"Now," he said as he deliberately seated himself opposite so he could observe every facial expression, "tell me what happened."
"I hadn't been out for a decent walk in ages, so I caught the bus to Little Wicklow. I'd intended going west, but I forgot my book of walks so abandoned that idea and just went with the flow, following a public footpath and then a bridle path. It was lovely. I guess I must have walked for about 4 to 5 miles, and then I found a pretty spot for a picnic lunch. I only closed my eyes for a few minutes ... but I fell asleep," she said sheepishly. "The rain woke me. I couldn't believe it - the weather had been glorious all morning, and then the rain got heavier and a thunderstorm came out of nowhere. It really scared me." She shuddered at the memory.
"Didn't you have a waterproof jacket in your rucksack?"
"Er, no. I didn't think I'd need it."
Dylan looked at her dainty little feet, reached forward and grabbed one, inspecting the blisters. "And why didn't you wear proper walking boots and socks instead of those ridiculous pumps?"
"I ... ah ... I was going to, really I was. In fact I put them on but they looked stupid with my shorts, so I opted for the pumps instead."
"Foolish girl." His eyes glittered as he spoke, making Evie squirm uncomfortably. "And then what did you do?"
"The rain was coming down in buckets, and there were lightning flashes and loud thunder. I looked for somewhere to shelter and I saw some big rocks ahead. I made for them and found a little space beneath a ledge that kept me safe and shielded most of the downpour. I'm not sure how long I was there. It seemed ages. Anyway, when the storm blew over I came back out but I slipped - the rock surface was treacherous when wet. I stumbled around feeling sorry for myself and I managed to get back to the road - and then instead of going back down the way I'd come, I looked in the opposite direction and I saw the lights of a house - your house. You know the rest..."
Dylan nodded. "So, the gist of this little escapade that could have got you killed, is that you set off walking without proper clothing and footwear, no guidebook or clear indication of where you were headed. Did you inform anyone you were going out walking?"
"Er... no." Evie grimaced.
"And I take it you had no compass, mobile phone or first aid kit with you either?"
"Um ... no. I forgot."
"You forgot." He gave her a look that had her squirming again. She felt like a silly six-year-old beneath his scrutiny. "You behaved in a totally irresponsible manner. You do realise that, don't you?"
"Er yes, I suppose."
"There's no 'suppose' about it, young lady. How do you think you should be punished for your actions?"
"Wh-what? Punished?" She stared at him, colour rising to her face.
"Yes Evie. Punished. A good spanking, perhaps?"
"Sp-spanking?" Her voice came out as a squeak. Her blush deepened.
"You're no stranger to spankings, are you Evie. We both know that."
"But - but you can't know that." Evie shook her head. It wasn't possible. How could he possibly know. "I ... um..." She lapsed into an embarrassed silence.
"I know because I saw you getting one." Evie's eyes grew wide. "At Club Lash, about two years ago." Evie's eyes grew wider still.
"You were there?" she whispered.
He nodded. "It appears you and I share similar interests, my dear."
Evie gulped. "I only went there once. Well ... twice," she said defensively.
Dylan raised an eyebrow. "I see. And who were you with? Your husband?"
"N-no, not Greg. It was s-someone I met on the i-internet," she stuttered.
Dylan made no comment, merely looked at her expectantly, waiting for more.
"I, er ... It's kind of complicated," she said.
"Tell me." It wasn't an invitation, it was a command. Evie began to fidget. "Tell me everything. I'm a good listener."
So Evie opened up, and it was a relief to do so. "My marriage to Greg wasn't a happy one. We got married when I was 22. For the first year, everything was great. And then ... well, I began to suspect he was seeing someone else. I confronted him but he denied it. He had this ideal for happy families, where I would stay home and keep house and have babies, and he would go out to work and socialise. I began to feel trapped. I came off the pill, but didn't get pregnant, and now I'm glad I didn't. As I told you in my interview, he didn't want me going to catering college, but we eventually reached a compromise and I went to work part time at Greyson Holdings. It was just as well I did, because Greg lost a lot of our savings by gambling in the casinos."
"What attracted you to him initially?"
"He was big and strong and very protective of me. I liked that. He was also very much in control. I liked that too - needed it in fact - but he got way too controlling, and not in a good way. It was stifling. I felt as though I was his possession and didn't have a life of my own. He didn't even like me going out for the occasional night out with girlfriends or colleagues from work."
"Did he spank you?"
"No. I wanted him to - I even asked him to a few times, but he just laughed at me and told me not to be stupid."
"So you decided to get someone else to spank you instead?"
"Yes. I wanted to explore a whole lot of things, and I started nosing around on the internet and got chatting to a guy - Alan. He invited me to the club and we had a couple of sessions and they were brilliant."
"And how did you manage that without Greg finding out?" probed Dylan.
"He was often away. He used to travel a lot as part of his job. After he died ..." Evie faltered, then took a deep breath and resumed. "After he died I found out that a few of those business trips over the years had been bogus. He'd gone to various resorts with a whole string of women. He was a serial adulterer with a secret life. After he died, I found letters and phone messages and emails that confirmed all my suspicions."
"That must have been very unpleasant to deal with," said Dylan sympathetically.
"Yes, it was. And when the police came round to tell me he'd been involved in a road traffic accident and was dead at the scene, they also mentioned there was a woman passenger who was in a critical condition. I went to the hospital to see her. I needed to do it, to give me ... closure.
"That took courage. Go on."
"Her name was Samantha. She had a ruptured spleen, fractured skull and a broken leg. I should have hated her. But I didn't.
I felt sorry for her. She was horrified to find out Greg was married. He'd told her he was divorced. Greg was one lying bastard." Evie sighed. "Anyway, he'd squandered so much money I had very few savings to fall back on. I used some of my redundancy - which wasn't much - to pay for my catering course. I sold the car, which meant I couldn't travel the 25 miles to Club Lash any more. I cut down on household expenses wherever I could, but things were still uncomfortably tight. That's why I was so grateful you offered me the job at Barkers. You gave me a lifeline."
Dylan looked at her for a moment then rose from his chair and sat down next to her on the sofa. Taking her in his arms, he hugged her close. "You've had a bad time, little one, but all that's in the past. Daddy will take care of you now." He tilted her chin, raising her face, and then he kissed her on the lips. And when she responded, her lips parting beneath his own, her little hands encircling his neck, he kissed her again ... harder, forcefully, passionately, relishing the taste and feel and smell of her.
At length he broke off the kiss and looked deep into her eyes. "I never get intimate with anyone from work, but I'm afraid I just crossed the line. How do you feel about that?"
"Oh ... do it again. Please. Do it again."
"Mmmm." His mouth came down again, hard, devouring her own. And when he paused to nuzzle her neck, Evie mewled like a kitten, then gasped with pleasure as his hand dipped beneath the shirt to cup her small breast, teasing her elongated nipples with his fingers. "Nice?" he murmured huskily.
"Please," she gasped.
Dylan grinned, undid the first few buttons of the shirt and took her nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirled and teased the expanse of the areola and then he clamped his mouth over the rigid nipple, lightly biting, making Evie squirm in pleasure. She squirmed even more when he stroked her thigh and worked his hand further up. She parted her legs, allowing him access, closing her eyes as his fingers probed her honeyed wetness.
Dylan explored her gaping sex, expertly fingering the slick folds, then dipping into the core of her, using her juices to massage her throbbing clit. This resulted in a strangled groan from Evie. She began to pant and rock her hips as the sensation flooded over her. "Come for me, baby," Dylan whispered. "Come for Daddy."
Little Women Box Set Page 17