Drakon (8 page)

Instead she took his hand and placed it firmly on her breast, using her hand to guide his hand to squeeze it. He had no choice but to obey. He groaned and tried to pull his hand away, but Andrea was stronger than she looked and his hand remained a prisoner.

“Andrea! Ahh...you don't know what that's doing to me!”

“Yes I do, Jonathan,” she said and her other hand reached out and stroked his hardness through his boxers. Finding strength from somewhere, he released his hand and then grabbed both her wrists, holding them high above her head, while his mouth crushed hers in a passionate kiss.

“Is this what you want?” He asked breathlessly, pulling her towards the bed. Andrea could only nod in reply. She felt weak, a heady mix of desire and fear. She had seen the anger in Jonathan's eyes and knew he could hurt her if he wanted to. But once they were on the bed, he was gentle and his lips travelled across her body into all her secret places and she thought she might die from the pleasure of it. It was Jonathan and she was his wife and he was making love to her as though she was the only woman in the world and nothing else existed except them and this room and this bed and she was soaring, soaring, soaring.

Jonathan was there too. They came together in a chorus of moans and Jonathan lay on top of her, spent and exhausted.

“God, Andrea! I love you so much!” And she felt his tears against her chest, mingling with the sweat of their lovemaking.

“Jonathan, I love you too. I always have and I always will.”

“Even after everything? After I've lied to you?” He looked up at her. Andrea reached out her hand, wiping his tears away.

“I know you must have had your reasons. I realize that now. You were only trying to protect me. No matter what you've done, or will do, I know that you love me. And I will love you. Forever.”

“But I don't deserve you, Andrea! Look at what's happened to you because of me? Why do you love me Andrea?”

“Because you're the one. I can't love anyone else.”

*

The next few weeks passed by in a blur, with both of them helping out at the farm. Jonathan spent all day in the fields with Pat, while Angela taught Andrea how to make cheese and butter in the dairy.

She was surprised how much she enjoyed the physical work. On Mondays it was market day and Angela would take in their milk, cheese and butter to be sold. At night they would make love, like the newly-weds they were, and it was like each time was the first time and better than the last.

Andrea wanted the distraction, of going to the market with Angela but Jonathan didn't want them to go where anyone could see them other than the Malone family. So that's how she ended up on her own baby-sitting Kate. The little girl was fascinated by Andrea's red hair. She was staring at Andrea and holding her rag doll against her chest like a baby, rocking it and cooing to it.

“Would you like to hold Amelia?” Asked Kate.

Andrea felt her chest constrict. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't.

“Amelia?” She whispered.

“My doll,” said Kate and thrust it out in front of her like an offering. No, Andrea didn't want to hold a doll. She wanted to hold a flesh and blood child. Her own child. A child who wouldn't die on her. Her child. And Jonathan's. She cried then, trying to hide it from Kate. The chemotherapy had made her barren and she despaired.

She was crying for herself, but most of all for Jonathan. She'd seen the way he was around kids. She could never give him a family, and she knew it was what he wanted. A happy family to take away the memories of his unhappy one. She wanted to give him that. She ached to give him that. And it had been robbed from her. Ripped from her body by modern medicine.

“Auntie Andrea!” Kate's cry reached through her tears. Andrea glanced up from the table and felt her insides turn to rubber. There was a shadow by Kate's shoulder, almost reaching out to the little girl.

“NO!” Screamed Andrea and shot up from the chair. “Run Kate! Run!” But Kate stood there, motionless. Not even her eyes were moving. The shadow coalesced into something solid.

Something evil. Haroldson.

His hand reached out to touch the little girl, who was like a statue.

“NO!!” Shrieked Andrea again, and Haroldson turned to her.

“Well, well, if it isn't Andrea. I didn't expect to find you here, though I should have guessed, really. It's a wise child who knows its father, but an even wiser one knows its mother.”

“What do you mean?” demanded Andrea, terribly afraid that she already knew the answer.

“Come now, don't tell me you haven't noticed a certain resemblance? The red hair, the blue eyes? Did you think we only created one? I didn't think you were that naive, Andrea.” He smiled evilly at her.

“You mean Kate? Kate is my daughter?” She wanted to faint; she wanted to hide, to wake up from this horrible dream. “How? Why?”

“We need her, if all our plans are to come to fruition. And you can't stop me from taking her.”

“NO! I'll do anything, just leave her alone!”

“It's too late for that, but maybe there is something...” And suddenly Andrea wasn't seeing the farmhouse any more; she was seeing the field where Pat and Jonathan were ploughing. Pat was driving the tractor pulling the plough, and Jonathan was following behind him planting potatoes. Suddenly there was a screech as the tractor began to move backwards.

Andrea watched in fascinated horror, she knew what was about to happen and even tried to scream a warning to Jonathan. But it was no use. No sound escaped from her locked throat and she had to watch as Jonathan stumbled and fell, his feet slipping in the mud. There was an agonizing scream from Jonathan as the plough severed his arm at the elbow, a crimson arc of blood shooting into the sky. Andrea sank to her knees on the farmhouse floor, bile rising in her throat. She was aware of Haroldson's presence like a mouse is aware of a cat and the danger it poses.

“What's it to be, Andrea? Jonathan's life for Kate's?”

“I can't make that choice!” She yelled, tears flowing freely.

“No? What about the child in your womb? His life for Kate's?” She stared at him and then Andrea did something she had never done before. She fainted.

*

When she came to, she was lying on the sofa, Jonathan hovering anxiously over her.

“Jonathan!” She sat up too quickly, feeling dizzy again.

“It's okay, Andrea. Ssh.” He held her in his arms while she just cried and cried. She didn't think she'd ever stop. Poor Kate! There would be nothing but experiments for her and she dreaded to think what would happen to her when she became childbearing age.

“We've got to find Kate! Haroldson took her!”

“Kate's fine. She's outside playing.”

“But Haroldson? He was here? Or did I dream it?” The memory was just a blur now.

“Yes, he was here.”

“Why didn't he take Kate? I fainted, I couldn't help her!”

“Kate helped herself. Haroldson's dead, Andrea. I shot him.”

“But how did you know he was here?”

“You and Kate must share a link. I heard both of your minds when I was out in the field, it was jumbled, but there was something about 'help' and 'danger'. I knew it must be something to do with Haroldson, so I rushed back. I saw you on the floor and Haroldson was just about to pick up Kate. He looked straight at me, and I swear it was like looking into the eyes of pure evil. He can't hurt anyone again.”

“What about the police?” Asked Andrea. She didn't think the shooting of an unarmed man would just be hushed up.

“The Gardai have been and gone. As far as they're concerned, the case is closed. Haroldson had a string of aliases, he was wanted here in Ireland, in Europe and America for countless kidnappings, all young girls. I've saved them a trial, and stopped him from taking Kate. I'm a local hero, Andrea! What does it feel like to be married to a hero?”

She smiled weakly at him. “It feels wonderful, Jonathan. It feels wonderful. So, can we go home now?”

“Yes, we can go home,” he kissed her forehead and left her to rest.

“Jonathan. He said I'm pregnant. But I thought I couldn't have children after the chemotherapy. The doctors told me so.”

“That was probably true if you were human, Andrea. But you're not. You healed yourself. So I'm going to be a dad?”

“Yes, you are,” Andrea reached out her hand and grabbed his, placing it on her abdomen.

“Rest now,” said Jonathan and her eyelids fluttered closed. As he walked away, she thought she heard him whistle.

THE END

About the Author

Annette Gisby grew up in a small town in Northern Ireland, moving to London when she was seventeen. Being a very small town there were no bookshops and a small library. When she'd devoured every book she could get her hands on in the library, she started writing her own stories so she would always have something to read later.

When not writing she enjoys reading, cinema, theatre, walks along deserted beaches or wandering around ruined castles (great places for inspiration!) New Zealand is her favourite place and she hopes to travel back there one day. She's a fan of Japanese Manga and Anime and one day hopes to learn Japanese.

She currently lives in Hampshire with her husband, a collection of porcelain dolls and stuffed penguins and enough books to fill a small library. It's diminishing gradually since the discovery of ebooks but still has a long way to go.

[email protected]

Other Books by Annette Gisby

Novels

Drowning Rapunzel

The Chosen

Silent Screams

Short Stories

The Prince's Guard

Of Pets and Pleasures

The Witch Hunter

Non-fiction

New Zealand with a Hobbit Botherer