Master (17 page)

Basic
undies
and some t-shirts
along with a couple of pairs of trousers and a jumper were easily purchased,
along with a set of bedding and some towels. She didn’t want anything fancy.
Her food shopping was completed in record time, and a couple of hours later
Anna sat in her garden with Dickens at her feet gnawing on a bone. She ate a
salad sandwich and sipped coffee as she watched the sailing dinghies tacking
across the water. She picked up the notepad and pencil she'd taken out of the
car and chewed the end of the pencil. The long drive had helped her sort out
her thoughts, and she had a very definite list of what she needed to do and
how. That didn't include adding a few more clothes to her wardrobe and buying
another set of sheets and towels.

When “Bitter Sweet Symphony” by The Verve played on her
phone, she jumped and dropped the pencil onto the river wall. It rolled over
the edge and into the water with a plop and a series of ripples.

Her tummy churned as she picked the phone up and looked at
it as if it was going to bite. Why hadn't she turned it off again?
Because I need to know he's okay.
Because I want to know if he contacts me.
And hope he does.
Because I love him.

It wasn't
Cade
. It was Athol, the
fifth time he'd rung. There'd been half a dozen texts and emails along with the
calls. Anna clicked on answer.

"Hey, hon.
What
the fuck? Your
DH has been burning the phone lines. What's going on?" Anna took a deep
breath and ignored the shiver that slinked up her spine. She had to start
sometime,
and the sooner the better.

"Hi, Athol.
I'm sorting myself out. Do
you know a good shrink?"

The silence made her think he'd ended the call.

"
Er
who for?" he asked
cautiously.

"Me obviously," Anna said and chuckled.
"There's something deep-seated in all this, and if I have any chance of
being with
Cade
, I need to find it and sort it damned
quick." She was quiet for a moment, and Athol didn't speak. "I love
him, Athol, and I'm crucifying him. I'm having nightmares, and I don't know
why. I need help."

"Where are you? No, I'll not tell
Caden
."

Anna hesitated, but she had to start somewhere.
"
Devon
."

His startled laugh boomed out through the phone. "Hell,
you couldn't get much farther, could you? Do you have a spare room?"

"Two, why?"

"Give me the address, and I'll see you tomorrow."

It'd be nice to see him, but Anna was puzzled. However, she
rattled the address off. Then she asked the next question. "Why?"

"Shit, Anna, you sound like a wind up toy. Why … why …
why…" He laughed. "You need a shrink. I'm your man.
Qualified and all yours.
Athol Donaldson
MB
BChir
, etcetera, at your service.
I'll let
you know what time I think I’ll arrive when I know myself. Take care now,
hon
, see
ya
soon." The phone
went dead.

Anna stared at it for a long time before she put it back
into her pocket and picked up her cooling cup of coffee.

There were hidden depths in everyone, it seemed.

****

Athol was as good as his word. After a night of broken sleep
that she couldn't put down to a strange bed, Anna struggled out of bed around
eight, had a quick wake-me-up shower, and took Dickens for a run on the narrow
strip of beach. She'd have to look for somewhere else when the tide was in. She
made a pot of coffee, and as she waited for it to brew she looked out of the
window. The sun was up and the tide high. A little fishing boat made its way up
river, and across by the estuary mouth, a couple of people were fishing from
the sands. It was a glorious autumn morning, and Anna wished she could take
more pleasure from it.

Her phone chirruped to indicate a new text, and she glanced
at it whilst she took a mug from the cupboard. It was Athol.
ETA ten a.m. Get the bacon cooking and the
coffee on.
She laughed, put the mug back, and poured her coffee into an
insulated one instead. Bacon was one thing she hadn't bought, preferring to use
the local butcher. It looked like her first visit there was going to be sooner
than she'd anticipated. She pushed her feet into her clogs and made a mental
note to buy something more substantial. It might be an Indian summer and as
warm as any true summer day in
Scotland
,
but it wouldn't be too long before she needed warmer clothes. For now though
she'd be fine.

Anna walked briskly along the lane and toward the village
green where the shops were situated all in a row. She came to the butcher
first. She'd noticed it on her way the day before, along with a baker, to say
nothing of a candlestick maker, greengrocer, and chemist. A proper village
she'd decided, and one she could be happy in—maybe. It was the maybe that was
the skeleton in the closet.
The big black cloud that spoiled
her happiness.
But as it was one of her own making and one she intended
to address, she'd cope with it.

Half an hour later and after a pleasant chat to the butcher
and the baker, Anna sauntered back along the riverbank lane. Much to his
disgust, Dickens had been left in his kennel. Anna didn't know if there were
tying posts, and she was darned sure the butcher wouldn't want him within
sniffing distance of his meat.

The sun was warm, and she'd put her jacket over her shopping
bag. A car horn behind her made her step to one side and turn around. The
headlights flashed, and the driver stuck his head out of the window.

 
"Anna, doll,
this is not a lane,
it’s
a footpath. I know you said
narrow, but come on." Athol got out and held his arms wide. With a little
cry Anna ran into them and got a big bear hug. She choked on a sob, and his
arms tightened.
"Hey,
hon
,
none of that.
I'm here now,
shh
." He
stroked her hair.

Anna felt safe, but she noted not in the same way as she
felt safe with
Caden
. She hoped that was a good thing.

"Right, show me how to get to this cottage of yours
before we back up all the traffic in the village."

"What?" Anna turned round. The only car was
Athol's. "There's nothing there."

He grinned. "Nah, but it got you moving." Athol
patted her bum, and she sniggered.

"Doesn't do anything for me."

"Nor me, love.
So how much
farther?"

Anna pointed ahead of her.
"Just past
that house on the left.
There's my car and enough room for a very
careful driver to park another one. I'll walk and open the chain barrier."

Athol laughed and rolled his eyes.
"Sounds
kinky."

"
Wha
… oh my god, Athol,
trust you." Anna giggled.
This is
going to work.
"It was full of kinks ‘til I
unkinked
it."

"
Tut
tut
,
Anna, not the
right answer
." Athol wagged his
finger as he got back into the car. "You need more kink in your life, not
less."

That might be the problem. Do
I really?
She
walked along the lane to her cottage and opened the chain railing that kept her
parking space private. Although not overlarge, it was big enough for two cars,
and her little sports car took up very little space. Athol reversed in expertly
and parked beside it.

"Hairdresser’s car," he said as he got out of his
mini and tapped her beloved vehicle. "Not what I see you driving."

"Tough, I love it." Ana waited whilst Athol
dragged two enormous cases out of the boot. "Grief, Athol, what have you
brought?
All your wardrobe and household utensils?
The
place is quite well equipped, you know."

"Some of my wardrobe and a few of my
Dom utensils."
He shut the boot and locked it. "Lead on."

Anna shivered, as a tiny dart of fear hit her. This sounded
like full on therapy with a vengeance.

"Dom utensils?" she asked as she unlocked the
door. Athol dropped the biggest of the bags on the floor. It rattled. Ana
glanced at it as if it might bite and led the way upstairs. "There's a
bedroom up here or one next to mine downstairs. Take your pick."

"Mm, I'll decide later.
And yeah, Dom
utensils.
Doll, I'm a Dom and a Doc, and I'm trained to read behind the
words. Hear what you don't say. We'll talk about it later. Now, where's the
bacon?"

There was nothing to do but go with the flow. Anna took out
the bacon from her bag. "Here.
With an egg?"

"Well duh." Athol wandered out of the tiny
kitchen. It wasn't big enough for them both. "I'm off to nose." He
whistled cheerfully as Anna heard him go downstairs.

 
Her heart was lighter
than it had been for ages. She might be facing tough times—in fact, she'd bet
she was—but somehow Athol's cheerful acceptance of her needs made everything a
lot better.

Fifteen minutes later, she wondered what the thumps and
curses she could hear were all about. Anna turned the cooker off, and still
holding the frying pan, she walked to the top of the stairwell.

"Grub up," she shouted. Her only answer was a
thud, and then a few moments later Athol appeared at the bottom of the
staircase. There was a scratch on his cheek.

"What on earth?"

"Just rearranging the furniture a
bit."
He paused, and his eyes twinkled with what Anna thought of as 'wicked mirth'.
"To make space for the dungeon."

She dropped the frying pan. Bits of fried egg and bacon went
everywhere.

Chapter Thirteen

This has to be a bloody
nightmare. What the hell is he talking about?

Athol picked a slice of bacon off his head. "I want to
eat it, not wear it," he said in a mild tone. "Shall we?"
Without another word, he picked up the ruined breakfast and put it back into
the frying pan. Then he walked up the stairs to stand level with Anna. He
rubbed her shoulder. The warmth of his hand was a welcoming feeling, but Anna
couldn't help the shiver that ran through her.

 
For fuck’s sake, this is Athol.
Athol.
Friend and all round good guy. He's here to help you,
not add to your worries.

"Anna, honey, I'm not the big bad wolf, and you don't
need to throw my food at me. I can sit at a table, you know?” He grinned, and
Anna felt foolish.

"With a knife and fork?' she asked.

Athol chuckled.
"If I must."

Phew.

"I'm starving, so any which way, hon.
A
cup of crap coffee and a stale something masquerading as a
pasty at three a.m. somewhere on the motorway doesn't satisfy me." He
rolled his eyes. "But don't worry, pretty lady." He spoke in a silly
sing-song voice. "Neither
do
fair damsels. I need
food for the body now. Food for the soul can follow later. That is, if you know
any hot
bod
males who'd like to be dominated?"

Anna hugged him, and the contents of the frying pan so
recently restored to its interior one more found a home on the floor.

"Athol, I do so love you in a non-body-fluid-sharing
way. Sadly, I've met no male except the butcher. He's
sixtyish
,
and his wife works alongside him. She wielded a mean knife."

He laughed and took the frying pan from her.
"Sit," he said in a firm voice. "Talk to me. I'll cook, you be
supervisor. Enjoy it. It's not often I let anyone else be boss."

Anna sat down in a chair near the door to the kitchen and
giggled, as she was sure he'd meant her to. A thought about something he'd said
struck her. "What do you mean crap coffee and whatever? Do you mean to say
you drove all night? Shit, Athol, I didn't mean for you to do that."

"Honey, at the risk of adding one more nail in the
coffin of my Dom
cred
, or one tick on my plus side,
whichever way you see it, it didn't matter. You need me, I'm here. I just
grabbed stuff I thought might be useful, took leave of absence, and drove. And
oh, I can see those cogs spinning faster than a hamster's wheel. I didn't say
why or where, so no one except us knows. Although I have a suspicion your
friends, as in Lindsay, Fiona, and Lizzie, have a good idea whom I'm with, if
not the location. They're all worried, love.
To say nothing
of ready to dismember
Cade
."

Anna stared at him as he whisked eggs and put bacon under
the grill. Her stomach had dancing gnats in it, and they threatened to make her
sick. "It's not
Cade's
fault," she said.
"It’s mine."

Athol had just put the egg mixture onto a griddle. It swayed
perilously near the rim as he put it onto the heat in a quick unsteady
movement. "What the
fuck are
you on about? He's
your Dom.
Your
Master. How is it not his fault?"