Drowning (15 page)

“It gives you a real sense of isolation, coming here,” I said, wishing I could capture the sea of greenery, the empty sky with its towering clouds, in the eye of my camera lens.

“It does. It always makes me feel peaceful. I spend time here when I want to think.”

Fifteen minutes later, he eased the car up a steep, winding road. I saw to my amazement that at the top of the hill was a small wooden chalet, built partly on long stilts and partly bermed into the hillside itself. Nicholas parked under the chalet and we climbed out.

“I’ll go first,” he said, walking around to a steep wooden staircase on the side of the building. “There is a tiny chance that there might be a stray scorpion in the bathroom, or another unwanted creature somewhere inside.”

After that warning, I followed cautiously behind and waited outside the wooden door until he gave the all-clear.

Stepping inside, I caught my breath.

The small building smelled pleasantly of the mahogany boards that had been used in its construction. It had a surprisingly high, sloped roof and a simple layout. The main room, a bedroom, had a double bed positioned against the back wall and an enormous glazed window opposite. The window looked out over the sheer cliff-side onto the astonishing view below. Here, the azure waters of a large dam were spread out in front of us.

I caught my breath as I saw that, so close that I could make out every detail of their lithe, powerful bodies, a pride of five lions and two cubs were at the water’s edge, drinking.

“Oh, wow!” I moved over to the window and stood, transfixed, watching this visual feast until the last of the lions had drunk their fill. Even then, the pride did not leave the dam area but instead moved to a shady spot of grass where they settled down to rest or, in the cubs’ case, to play pouncing games with each other.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

Nicholas’s voice resonated from the room to the right of the bedroom, a kitchenette. Here, another door led out onto a small, shady balcony which also overlooked the dam. Nicholas was pouring water from a plastic jerry can into a kettle on a gas plate. A small gas-powered fridge stood by the window.

“The room opposite is a bathroom,” he told me, pointing to the door. “Its water supply comes from a rainwater catchment tank on the roof.”

When he made the coffee, I noticed there was only one mug on the wooden shelf.

“We’ll have to share,” Nicholas said. “You’re the first person apart from me who’s been in this hideaway since I had it built last year.”

So he hadn’t even brought Angela here? I felt illogically pleased to be the only one he’d shared this special hideaway with.

“Thank you for bringing me. It’s incredible.”

We sat down on the bed and leaned back on the cushions, passing the mug back and forth while staring out at the view of the endless sky and the grasslands and dam below. The peaceful sight soothed me and helped to calm my frazzled emotions. There was an extraordinary stillness in this place. The only sounds were of nature—insects, the calling of birds, the faint babble of water from somewhere nearby.

Nicholas was right—being part of this timeless, wild landscape was giving me the opportunity I required to think.

And I was thinking I needed to get back across that river fast.

Whatever this attraction was between us, I was prepared to admit that Nicholas was as much under its spell as I. While I was with him, the magnetism between us created a static that made it impossible to reason. Even now I could feel its tug—this ridiculous desire, this longing to touch him, this crazy feeling of happiness inside, of being at peace—as if everything had turned from impossibly complicated to utterly simple.

I told myself sternly that this was not real. It was an illusion of happiness. It could not last, and it was interfering with my perception of everything—including, most crucially, my own marriage.

I owed it to my husband to try and fix what had gone wrong between us. If my efforts did not work—and the idea of that happening made me feel disoriented, as if I were teetering on the edge of a tall building—then the foundations of my world would crumble.

I had to get out of here as soon as was humanly possible. This place—and this man—were becoming addictive. Nicholas and Leopard Rock Estate were drawing me in, making me forget that there was a world outside the borders and that I had a life I needed to go back to. I was becoming entangled, and this was not right, not healthy, and simply not acceptable.

I could not afford to let this happen. The next few days would be difficult enough. I needed to come to terms with what I had done, and try and fix my marriage. I would require all my strength of mind to get through this.

I handed the empty mug back to Nicholas and our fingers brushed. Quickly, I moved my hand away but he moved his towards me.

The touch interrupted my thoughts and distracted me from the task of shoring up my resolve. In any case, I told myself, I had made my decision. As soon as there was any way out of here—any way at all—I was going to take it. That would be within another two days at the most. In the meantime, I acknowledged reluctantly, I could not win the battle against my own desires. Besides, giving in to temptation would be all the sweeter now that I knew, for sure, there was so little time left for me to surrender.

As our hands idly
caressed, Nicholas’ touch caused my heart to pound.

“This is something I’ve dreamt of doing for days. Bringing you here. Sharing this place with you.”

He put the cup down and sprawled on the bed, pulling me close with one strong arm. His lips tasted of coffee and his kiss swiftly grew urgent. Only two more days at the most, I promised myself… and I must take every moment of pleasure they offered. In fact, I must saturate my senses with Nicholas de Lanoy in the hope that doing so would finally satisfy my craving for him.

His hands roamed over my body, stroking my breasts, teasing my nipples which stood out taut and hard under my shirt. He tugged at the fastening of my pants, and in turn, my fingers were at his jeans, unbuckling, unzipping, pulling them down, revealing him.

He made to remove my clothes, but I stopped him.

“No,” I whispered. “Not yet.” With the flat of my hand on his chest, I pushed him back onto the cushions, seeing the bewilderment in his eyes and feeling a sudden surge of power at having seized the moment, taken control for just a while of this powerful, magnificent man.

I kissed my way down his body, loving the silken sensation of his skin under my lips, the coarser tickle of hair, feeling the tension in him, the breathless anticipation of what I was about to do.

“Oh, Erin,” he groaned as I wrapped my right hand around the pulsing length of his cock and flickered my tongue around its head. “God, that’s good.”

I could hear his breathing, rough and hard, and found I was breathless myself. I could feel his desire as if it was my own. I was trembling with excitement at his response. I longed to give him more; to take him to the same heights of bliss where he had taken me.

I opened my lips and slid them around the wide head of his cock, then circled the tip of my tongue slowly, lusciously around it, tasting him. I loved the feel of his skin, so silken soft compared to the powerful hardness underneath. I moved my lips further down his shaft, sucking him as deep as I could take him, caressing his thickness with my tongue. His helpless groans of delight made me feel incredibly aroused.

This was a sensual pleasure for me in a way I’d never felt it to be before, with other men… but, if I was truthful with myself, it was more than that. I was amazed by how much I needed to do this for him. I wanted to give him my all, to let him know the honesty of my desire, holding nothing back. It was as if, by pleasuring him so intimately, I was letting myself show the feelings I could never tell him.

After all… I had two more days at most before everything would remain unsaid forever.

I slid my lips rhythmically up and down his shaft, caressing him more firmly with my tongue, finding the pleasure points where he could not help but cry out as I massaged them, and where I felt him swell and throb in response to my touch.

“Oh, God, Erin, that feels so good. You must… you must stop now, or I’m going to…”

I disregarded his breathless instructions, loving that I was defying his wishes, sucking him hard and deep, wanting and needing to take him further than he had been taken before. His body tensed, his left hand closing around my left and grasping me hard as he let out a loud groan of pleasure. He felt hot in my mouth, as hard as granite, and then he gave himself up to me, spurting into my mouth, warm liquid, and I swallowed him greedily.

When I sat up he pulled me to him and kissed me long and hard. In the embrace of his strong arms I felt amazingly safe. With the taste of him still in my mouth, the feel of him next to me, my senses were filled by him and I was utterly at peace.

I closed my eyes as his breathing slowed, and when I opened them again it was to discover I’d fallen into a deep sleep. The light through the window was totally different—a bright reddish-gold of late afternoon.

Nicholas lay beside me. He was awake and reading a book. Peeking at the cover I saw it was a Stephen King novel. He seemed engrossed in it and I now realized the soft sound I’d heard while coming out of my sleep had been pages turning.

“Afternoon,” he said, smoothing my hair away from my face. “You slept for hours. Take a look through the window. We have some more visitors.”

Staring down at the dam, I caught my breath. A herd of four elephant had arrived at the water. They drank, then sluiced water over their massive, grey bodies with their trunks.

Nicholas laid his book aside and, in each other’s arms, we watched their evening ritual. By the time the elephant had moved away, the sun was setting, blazing in through the window in a fiery mingling of colors.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed.

“You’re beautiful.” He moved his hips against mine. I could feel him aroused once again, and realized I was breathless with desire for him. “Your eyes, Erin… they’re incredible. The deepest blue I’ve ever seen. They sparkle when you smile. And I can’t look at your lips without needing to kiss them.” He brushed his mouth over mine.

“I want to see you naked,” he murmured. “God, your body’s a turn-on.”

With careful fingers he unbuttoned my shirt before opening it.

“Your breasts… so firm, so round.” He stroked his fingers gently over them before bending to suck and tease my nipples with his tongue. He nibbled at my left nipple before biting it harder, causing me to let out a small squeal at the unexpected sensation.

He ran his tongue over it again and heat spread through my body to pool in my core. Playful desire was escalating into urgent need. We both felt it—I could not deny it.

He slipped my shirt off and removed my pants.

I lay, staring up at his hard-muscled, aroused body as he knelt over me, taking me in with appreciative, admiring eyes. He was the beautiful one—a breathtakingly handsome man whose rugged appearance concealed the tantalizing complexity of character that lay beneath.

He ran his fingers lightly over my breastbone.

“I’m sorry I had to bruise you so badly.”

“You were saving my life,” I said, and gestured with my left hand to emphasize my words. The action caused the inside of my arm to be exposed and something inside me constricted as I saw his eyes narrow.

I tried to move my arm back again but he stopped me with a firm grasp on my wrist. He bent closer, examining the five telltale bruises which were fainter now than they had been, blurring purple-yellow, but still entirely visible.

“Erin,” he said, and his voice was cold. “I didn’t do that to you. I held you under your arms when I was dragging you out of the car. And this?” He ran his fingers lightly over the massive bruise on my hip.

I stared up at him, wordless, the fury I saw in his face making me feeling frightened even though I didn’t know exactly why.

“Was that your husband?” he asked.

I found myself blinking tears away. I still couldn’t speak. I gave a small nod.

“Jesus!” he snapped.

“It’s not—it was just a moment when he lost his temper. He pulled me towards him and I banged my hip on something.” My throat felt very dry. “It’s never happened before.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he said slowly. “It’s happened before.”

I shook my head, but the memories were flooding back now—Vince shaking me until my teeth rattled during a particularly vicious argument; Vince bending my finger back during a fight over
possession of the remote control—he had meant to bend it, of course, had intended to cause me pain although he had certainly not meant to break it. I’d had to go to the emergency room and had spent six weeks in a splint.

Vince, enraged that I’d been speaking to another man at one of the launch parties for his new photographic collection, grabbing my arm as soon as we were in his apartment together, and forcing it back towards my face so hard and suddenly that my own hand had hit me with enough force to make my nose bleed.

I didn’t know what to say to Nicholas now. I’d forgotten those incidents—or made myself forget—believing them or perhaps wanting them to be incidental, unimportant blips on the radar of Vince’s and my relationship.

Silence filled the small chalet. Even the chorus of the birds outside seemed muted.

He exhaled deeply and let go of my wrist.

“It’s never just once,” he said again, more gently this time. “Not ever. Why didn’t you tell me this had happened?”

“I didn’t think it was such a big deal.” My voice sounded very small.

“It’s abuse,” His voice was like steel.

“Well, not really, no. We just have a—a dynamic relationship.”

“I’m sure that’s how my parents’ marriage started out as well,” he said, in the coldest voice I had ever heard him use, and my eyes widened at the words. Was this what he had gone through? Was this the part of his past he did not want to talk about?

“Your parents?” I repeated, my voice unsteady.

“I can only surmise it escalated as the years went by. Nobody would marry a man they knew was going to put them in hospital once a month, would they?”

He stared down at me with icy eyes and I could find nothing to say in response.

“I’m sure that’s how it started,” he continued. “A pinch here. A slap there. Every time getting worse. Each time blaming the victim—because it’s always your fault, isn’t it, Erin? You should be schooled in that by now.”

His voice was heavy with cynicism.

“By the time I was old enough to be aware of it, it had started in earnest. I’d lie in bed and listen to the punches. The meaty sound of flesh hitting flesh. My mother’s screams. The way she’d beg and plead with him to stop. Sometimes she’d try to defend herself and then things inevitably got worse. Furniture would be knocked over. Glasses were smashed. The extent of his rage… it was uncontrollable. Brutal. And I grew up with it.” He was blinking now—were those tears in his eyes?

“What did you do?” I asked softly.

“At first, when I was very young, I’d try to comfort my mother. To help her. Bring her ice. Stop the bleeding. Twice, I called the ambulance for her.”

“Oh, Jesus, Nicholas, that’s terrible.”

“Later, I tried to intervene. I got smacked around for my troubles, although not as badly as he hit my older brother. For some reason, the abusive bastard didn’t bother to hurt me, which made it all the worse. Then, a few years later, when I was bigger and stronger, I finally managed to best him. I put him on the floor with a black eye, two teeth missing, and concussion.”

I didn’t know what to say. I found his hand and held it, and he gripped mine tightly.

“God, Nicholas, I’m so sorry that had to happen to you. That you had to go through such a thing—with your own parents.”

“It was hell,” he told me, and looking into his eyes I could truly believe the words. I wanted to hold him, to offer him comfort from the agony he’d gone through, but when I reached for him, to pull him down beside me, he locked his arms around me and drew me up to sit facing him.

“Erin, I can’t let this happen to you,” he said slowly. “I can’t. I don’t even care to what degree it occurs. Abuse in any form is absolutely unacceptable. It is a crime.”

“My situation is different, Nicholas. Vince is not a criminal. It’s not abuse…”

“Your husband is a wife-beating bastard,” he spat out.

“No!” I shouted. “Stop saying those things about him!”

Rage and shame flooded through me, so intense my eyes filled with tears. Seeing them, his face softened. “I’m sorry, Erin,” he said, but when he tried to take me in his arms I pushed him away.

I was furious with myself for having let Nicholas see that bruise, and furious with him for having said these hurtful words. Instinctively, I had been trying to hide my arm from him, knowing deep down that he would say something if he saw it. The thought of Vince in jail for spousal abuse terrified me, so at that moment I could only defend my husband’s actions. I was not like Nicholas’s mother. I was not a victim, and never would be.

I was still seething when Nicholas got up and strode over to the window.

“Whatever, Erin. Believe what you like about him.” His voice was filled with despair. “I can’t convince you, even though you’re a highly intelligent, independent-minded woman. You’ve got a blind spot when it comes to your self-worth. You’re in denial. No matter what I say, it won’t make a difference.”

“With all due respect, Nicholas, I know Vince better than you do. He is not a violent man normally. Well, only when he gets upset with me, and I can control that. You went through hell, and so did your mother. That doesn’t mean everyone who—who is in a physically passionate relationship is going to end up doing the same.”

He didn’t answer but simply shook his head. The distance between us felt suddenly huge and cold. I got out of bed and walked over to stand beside him, naked, locking my arms around him, staring through the window at the last fiery traces of the setting sun.

“Do you even hear your own words, Erin?” Nicholas asked quietly, staring out at the darkening landscape. “You blame yourself, just to make excuses for his appalling, out of control behavior.”

“In a couple more days I’ll be gone, Nicholas. You won’t have to worry about me anymore, so why are you wasting time doing it now when we could be spending it so much more pleasurably?”

I smoothed my hands over his back. Then I locked my arms around him and kissed him.

At first, I felt him tense against me with anger, but then as my lips softened his, and his own parted, we melted into each other. Our tongues caressed, our bodies pressed tightly together. I felt the now-familiar rush of heat inside me, the incredible pulsing desire that his proximity triggered… and I knew that he was feeling it, too.

“Erin, how do you do this to me? It’s crazy. Wonderful, but crazy,” he whispered.

He walked the few steps to the bed and we fell on it together, kissing hard, almost frantically, as if both of us knew that this time might possibly be the last.

His lips trailed down my neck before he took my right nipple in his mouth, grazing it with his teeth before sliding his tongue over its hardening tip. I moaned softly, thrusting my hips towards him, the delight his touch offered triggering a more urgent, throbbing need in my lower belly.

“Such perfect, responsive nipples,” he murmured, turning his attention to my left one, his pleasuring tautening a cord of desire inside me so intense that I thought I might come from this touch alone.