A Seven Year Hitch (13 page)

“Yes, that would be great.”

“Of-course, the simple thing would have been to section off each garden with hedges but Great Grandfather believed that would be too ordinary and detract from the unusual and beautiful scheme he had planned.  That’s when he hit upon the idea of using rocks and suchlike to create tunnels and passageways to interconnect the different zones. If we climb these steps over here we will come to the quintessential English garden, complete with a cottage, but upon entering it you will find yourself back in a passageway leading to the root garden. There are also stepping stones to be navigated and exciting winding paths with uneven steps to be traversed. Adults and children alike delight in it, as you can imagine.”

Erica enthused and, temporarily forgetting their wager and battle of wills, she took great pleasure in showing him the horticultural delights.

“The root garden sounds interesting,” Trevellyn said.

“A small path takes you up and around and on either side are exposed roots, all twisting and gnarled into the most interesting patt
erns. We spent hours as children, spotting different shapes in them and if you look carefully you can make out a pig and a troll’s face, among other things.”

“
Come and see,” she said, taking his hand and leading the way through the English garden and into the cottage.

“When I was very little, Gerald told me the troll was real and would eat me if it caught me. I was too scared to come here for a while until Uncle Richard showed me it wasn’t real after all.”

“How did he manage to prove to you that it wasn’t real?”

Erica laughed as she recalled. “He punched it on the nose and
told me that no self respecting Troll would have allowed such cavalier treatment without retaliating!”

The afternoon passed very quickly for Erica who was enjoying showing the gardens to Trevellyn and sharing childhood anecdotes with him. Whenever they came across any of the other family members, he would release her hand but would always reclaim it as soon as they were alone again. Erica deemed not to notice but on the one occasion when he didn’t take it, she subconsciously reached for his. He refrained from commenting, not wanting her to become self-conscious and break the physical contact, but he inwardly smiled at the small but distinct indication that her defences were beginning to crumble.

“We just have time to view the monastery before we need to gather the stragglers and return for tea.” Erica said.

She led him along a tree-lined a
venue to where a huge stone urn inlaid with bronze, marked the end of the themed area. It was surrounded by benches and high hedges and at first Trevellyn believed they had wondered into a dead end. Erica watched him as his gaze swept around and waited, a smile playing around her mouth.

“Can you not see it?” she asked
.

She t
hen led him towards a bench near to the rear of the urn and as they approached he noticed a cleverly concealed exit.

“Great Grandfather did not wish the visual affect of this circular area disrupted and therefore designed it so that the exit is only discernable when you are almost upon it
.” Erica explained. “It also protects the monastery; preserves it in its isolated splendour. When we pass along these high hedges and come out in the old grounds you will see what I mean. You can see no trace of the house, formal gardens or the themed area. You could almost imagine you were a million miles from anywhere.”

An overwhelming sense of peace and tranquillity was the first thing that assailed Trevellyn’s senses as he emerged from the high-hedged passageway and he could not help but comment on it.

“It is so wonderfully peaceful here, amazingly so considering the rather violent end it must have suffered at the hands of King Henry’s henchmen.”

“Yes, althoug
h that was but a moment in time was it not, compared to its long history. It could not possibly obliterate the hundreds of years of prayer and tranquil living that preceded it. If you half close your eyes, you can almost see the monks drifting around the walls; completing their daily chores.”

“I’ve married a romantic!” Trevellyn muttered, and looked at Erica with such tenderness that it took her breath away. They had wondered into what remained of the Refectory building
and now stood facing each other; content and at ease.

“You sound surprised
,” she answered though her voice was barely audible.

“No, not
really,” he murmured against her full lips before he pressed a gentle kiss upon them that had Erica tingling all the way to her toes.

She leaned into him and kissed him back, a little shy at first, as this was their first real kiss, devoid of demands or a desire to overpower and command. 

              Her hands stole up his chest, and clasped each other behind his neck at the same time as his became entangled in her thick chestnut hair. The kiss remained gentle; explorative until Trevellyn broke away to press kisses onto her eyelids, face and neck. When he returned to her mouth, passion flared between them and the kiss deepened.

Trevellyn backed her up against the wall and pressed his length against her. She could feel his arousal hard against her stomach and an answering pool of desire growing at the juncture of her thighs. She pushed against him, trying to ease the ache and he responded by parting her legs with his thigh and rubbing it against her intimately. She moaned and sucked on his tongue, entwining her own with it, glad of the support of the wall for her legs were trembling so
much; she doubted they could hold her. His hand stole down and cupped her breast, weighing it, kneading it before his thumb caressed her nipple through the thin cambric of her dress. Erica gasped at the sheer pleasure his touch evinced and watched, mesmerized as he bowed his head and took the tight bud into his mouth; his tongue continuing where his thumb had left off.

Erica was very close to begging him to take her there and then when the unmistakeable sound of talking reached them. Trevellyn cursed under his breath, damning all relatives to hell before swiftly pulling Erica along to a shadowed doorway
; away from the direction of the voices. The clouds of passion that had fogged her mind were by now beginning to dissipate and Erica, intensely aware that they were in danger of being caught, grabbed his arm and whispered urgently, “This way, keep low!”

Stealthily they made their way around the ruins until they were some distance from her cousins.

“It’s Fiona and the others. She will be unbearable if she finds us here.”

Trevellyn was taking the opportunity to straighten hi
s clothes but glancing at Erica who, not only had dishevelled clothing but who also gave every appearance of having been thoroughly kissed, accepted that they needed to escape for a good ten minutes to allow her swollen lips to recover. Placing his lips very close to her ear he whispered, “We’ll make our way back to the hidden entrance and act like we’ve just arrived.”

She nodded and together t
hey furtively made their escape; Trevellyn offering up thanks for the experience he’d gained from escaping tight spots during his spying days in France.

“Here
Erica, let me help you!” Trevellyn nimbly ran his fingers through her long tresses, coaxing them into some sort of acceptable order. He gritted his teeth and thought of cold baths as the feel of it reawakened his passion.

“You are rather free with my name all of a sudden, My Lord
,” Erica said trying to revert to their former relationship of combatants in a wager war.

Trevellyn mer
ely looked at her before saying, “I feel we can dispense with formality, at least in private. No more of this My Lording Erica, I wish to hear you say my name.”

“Trevellyn it is then, My Lord!” she teased.

“Erica! That, as you very well know is my title. I want you to call me Ross.”

When she looked liked refusing, he drew close to her and huskily said,

“Actually no. The first time I want to hear you say Ross is when I am buried deep inside you. It will fall like honey from your lips.”

“Not going to happ
en…Ross, but feel free to dream,” she replied briskly although she could not resist starring at his lips as she spoke. Her own lips went dry and she found herself licking them, the tip of her tongue sliding erotically from one side to the other.

“Erica,” Ross spoke firmly, “If you carry on doing that, I will take you here and now and on that bench!”

“I’m not doing anything!” she answered crossly. “Come on, we’d better go and meet the others. They are going to be suspicious enough at our disappearance all afternoon without delaying any further.” And so saying, she stomped off into the concealed passage.

Ross smiled and hung back a little while before following in her wake. The depth of the passion that had overtaken them had shaken him, and he was somewhat relieved that the interruption had occurred when it did and not a few moments later. Besides which, he wanted their first coupling to take place in a luxurious bed when time and interruptions were not factors that need
ed to be considered. Afterwards he acknowledged with a grin, he would delight in taking her in many different surroundings and positions. The themed gardens certainly had plenty of potential.

Ross was content with the pace at which his seduction was going. It was after all, not just a case of enticing her into his bed, but also into accepting that they were destined to be life long partners. Besides which, he enjoyed th
eir little sparring matches and although she was well and truly caught in his clutches; he was prepared to tolerate her attempts to wriggle out of them.

“Ah, there you are!” Erica exclaimed as she came across her cousins amidst the ruins. “The Marquis and I have been looking all over for you. I can only assume we kept missing each other!”

“Quite possibly,” Fiona said, although she did not sound too sure and looked at the newcomers sharply. If she noticed anything amiss, she kept her observations to herself and asked instead, “Michael wants us all to believe these ruins are haunted by the restless spirits of monks. What do you say, Erica?”

“Oh there’s no doubt
,” Erica smiled. “We’ve seen them!”

“Did I not tell you that as children we would come down here in the dead of night and watch our ghostly neighbours?” Michael asked.

“Yes you did, but we’re still not sure we believe you, even with Erica’s confirmation,” Charlie answered.

“Of-course, being members of the family that took their l
ands when they were confiscated meant we had to stay well hidden, for goodness knows what would have happened to us if they had ever caught us watching them!” Erica added for good measure.

“Weren’t you scared?” asked
Charlotte in an awed voice, totally taken in by the yarn being spun.

“Petrified!” Erica assured her
“Once, one got so close I touched his robe and that night my hair turned white!”

Ross smothered a laugh.

“I don’t remember your hair ever being white,” Charlotte said, puzzled.

“That’s because it only stayed white for a day!” Erica brazened it out.

Ross choked.

Erica slapped him none too gently on the back.

“But that was nothing. Michael’s hair fell out around the crown; just like the shaven bit on a monk’s head. It didn’t grow back for ages!” Erica earnestly continued.

Ross snorted.

Erica elbowed him.

“I don’t remember Michael with a bald patch!”
Charlotte said, bewildered.

“Well you wouldn’t. He wore a toupee
.”

Ross guffawed.

Erica kicked him. Hard.

“Ouch, that hurt
!” he exclaimed.

“It was meant to
,” she retorted.

Everyone collapsed laughing and
Charlotte, realizing she was metaphorically having her leg pulled, laughed good humouredly, saying, “You are mean. I really believed you!”

They were all still chuckling as they left the ruins and, gathering relatives, returned to the house for a much-needed tea. Of-course everyone not privy to the events at the monastery wanted to hear and this led to a discussion of reputed ghosts at other properties.

Much later when the children were all tucked up in their beds and the adults were enjoying their dinner the conversation turned back to ghosts.

“You know,” said Stephen, “It’s a full moon this evening. Why don’t we go on a ghost hunt?”

“What a splendid idea!” exclaimed Sophie, “I’d love to go?”

“And me,” said Fiona.

“I’m up for it too!” said Charlie and an excited babble broke out as people expressed a wish to be included.

“What about you, Gerry?” asked Erica, surprised that he had not said anything.

“I’m sorry sis; I’ve got a frightful headache and need to seek my bed. Such a shame for it’s definitely the sort of lark I’m like to enjoy,” he said dolefully.

Erica had not missed the secret sign of their childhood that alerted her to the fact that he needed to speak to her in private.