Rude Awakening (3 page)

“No,” she said, sipping, still staring outside.

“Are you happy to stay here until the morning? Until we can figure out what to do? I doubt an ambulance or the police—”

“No!” she said, snapping her head to face him. “Don’t call anyone. No one at all. I’ll be all right. If I can just stay here until…until I know who I am, then I can go back home.”

How long would that take? He wasn’t versed in the medical field, but he knew amnesia could sometimes last years. At some point she would have to leave, he’d have to let the authorities take care of her, but despite her having no apparent recollection of who she was, he skated on thin ice with regards to keeping her here. As a lawyer, he knew if she was aware of who she was, she might not want to stay here at all, and if he allowed her to stay when she wasn’t sure of her own mind, he could be in a heap of trouble.

Monday. She can stay until Monday.

“All right,” he said, scraping his chair back and wincing at the harsh sound it made on the slate floor tiles. “We’ll leave it over the weekend, but only on the condition that as soon as you remember who you are, you must tell me. People could be worried about you.” He decided to push it a little more. “And considering your…appearance, it doesn’t look like you’ve been eating too well recently.”

She let a small smile touch her lips and drank more coffee, gaze straying back to the door.

“Do you want to leave?” he asked, giving her the option despite his instincts shouting that she couldn’t walk back out there tonight.

“No,” she said. “No.”

“Are you looking at the door for any specific reason?”

“Yes. Wondering if it’s locked.”

“Yes, it’s locked. It’s night-time and I live in the middle of nowhere, so it needs to be lock—”

“Good.” She nodded. “Good.”

She relaxed, her shoulders slumping, and Harry wondered what the bloody hell had happened to make her so skittish, so obviously afraid of something.

“I’ll need to call you something while you’re here,” he said.

“Anything. Call me anything you like.” Her voice was so thin, so…quiet.

He regarded her for a moment, seeing her as he’d found her—asleep in the snow, her mouth blue, legs so red.

“Ruby,” he said. “That all right?”

“Yes,” she said, her smile growing a little wider. “That’ll do just fine.”

Chapter Two

What the fuck have I just done?

Ruby—she liked the sound of that—closed her eyes and sipped her coffee, loving the hot liquid rushing down her throat. Running out in the snow had been a really fucking stupid idea, but at a time like that, the weather hadn’t been on her mind. Not only had it been bloody stupid, now she was trapped with another man and there was no way on this earth she was going back outside and freezing her tits off. It was not happening, not today.

“Once you’ve finished your coffee, I’ll show you to the spare room, then you can take a bath. I’ll get your clothes laundered.”

The hot guy in front of her kept trying to reassure her, but no matter how strong she tried to be, her attention kept straying to the kitchen door, with her expecting to see him.

She touched the collar at her neck and a shiver ran through her body. What would happen if he found her? No, she couldn’t think like that. Against all odds, she was free…and intended to stay that way.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

The man who’d taken her in stood and moved out of her space but within distance—she suspected in case she suffered with any after-effects of the cold. A really sweet gesture, and one Ruby would keep in her heart always.

Ruby. It was a rather fitting name and one she was going to keep for a while. Her real name, Margaret Savage, left a lot to be desired. A horrible thing to have lied about her memory, but the less he thought she knew about herself, the less it was likely he’d go running to the police. Keeping a low profile was all that mattered at the moment.

“Harry.” His voice was direct and left no room for argument every time he spoke.

Ruby sipped from her cup and took the time to look at him.

Harry, her protector, was a tall and striking man. ‘Built like a brick shit house’, her mum would say, but to her, Harry was sex on legs. Top notch, the dog’s bollocks.

He stared down at her as if commanding her to his will, and from years of abuse—sorry, training—she averted her eyes and drank the rest of her coffee. The liquid burnt another welcome path. Although his gaze didn’t unnerve her like his had, she needed to get away from this stranger and have a shower. Touching the collar again from months of habit, she waited for the usual commands of her body. Then, realising her Master was no longer with her, Ruby lifted her head and smiled at the man before her.

No longer a dog to be kept and ordered around, she was free to live her life.

Unless he found her.

“Do you have a last name?” she asked.

“Not one I’m willing to divulge at the moment, no.”

His voice, for some unknown reason, made her feel protected. And wow, was he ever posh. He must be one of those toffs working in a high-end job. With a house like this, and the obviously well-cut clothes he wore, he inhabited a world she’d only ever seen on TV. The type of person who looked down on the likes of her, unless they wanted a bit of rough with a common girl from a council estate.

Ruby cursed her life and her upbringing. A standard education, and brought up in an area considered ‘rough’, Ruby believed she’d made a decent way in her life despite the pitfalls. Long before meeting the bastard, devil incarnate, that was. A library assistant didn’t pay very well, but she loved her job. Though, the library had been the place the bastard had found her.

More than five years had passed since he’d come into the library, wooed her and taken her away from her life. No more second-rate flats or dead-end boyfriends. No, she’d fallen in love with who she’d thought was a decent man. Then it had turned out he wasn’t so decent, and her life had turned to shit.

Another thing—she really needed to stop swearing.

“I’m ready for the bath or a shower,” she said.

He nodded. She smiled and followed him out of the kitchen, clutching the soft blanket around her. How she managed to contain her gasp of surprise was beyond her. The house was more like a mansion.

“Do you actually live here?” she asked. “You know, own this gaff?”

Harry turned abruptly and gave her a funny look.

“I was only asking.” Jesus, what got his goat?

She looked away from him and gazed at the walls in the hallway—a hallway bigger than her mum’s living room. How the other half lived! The paintings alone must have cost more than she’d made in a year. They were so beautiful—classic art she reckoned. She’d seen some in books and wasn’t sure if she believed they were the real deal—artwork of the universe and interpretations of still life so breathtaking that she fell behind to look closer.

She was brought out of her awe when he cleared his throat—in a very uptight kind of way—and tapped his foot.

Strange man.

“I’m so sorry. Your artwork is amazing.” She pointed behind her and wondered why the hell she was trying to show him when it was obvious where his bloody art was.

He simply moved on towards the uncarpeted stairs, some kind of polished dark wood that shone from the light of a chandelier.

What the fuck’s his deal?

Instead of over-thinking his rejection and obvious dislike of her, she took the time to admire his arse.

How long had it been since she last appreciated an arse where Master wasn’t present to yell at or ridicule her?

Too long.

Harry’s was tight, hard, and for a split second she imagined sinking her fingers into the flesh, holding him closer to fuck her harder. The image, shocking and sudden, shook her to the core. No man had made her feel that way. Those times and images were long gone, banished by the greater fear of the whip or far harsher punishments. Whips brandished not to give her pleasure-pain but to hurt, to make her know her place. On the surface, to anyone who might have been watching, the whippings looked like any other normal play, but when his temper had been really rife and she’d been unable to scream or break free, she’d suffered unimaginable pain. Oh, she didn’t need to imagine the pain now—she knew first-hand how a badly wielded crop could make you want to die rather than feel another strike. Some scars were still present on her back, faded as they all became with time, but still there.

The scars inside her heart and mind, though, they were another matter.

She trailed Harry up the stairs.

Times when she thought about her past—because it was her past now, and her present was here for however long Harry let her stay—she wondered why Master had picked her. Out of so many other women—other women who’d gladly do as they were told with no second guesses—he’d chosen her, someone who had spoken up when she wasn’t supposed to, who questioned him.

He’d soon beaten that out of her.

Her life, her very upbringing, had hindered any positive relationship she could’ve had with him. Growing up on a council estate where you got bullied for being different made her, as a child, steer away from making many friends. She didn’t go out much, and when Master had come into the library, with his kind words and soft gestures, she’d thought she’d found her equal, someone who enjoyed a woman who wanted to learn, wanted to understand every aspect of BDSM.

She soon found out it wasn’t her job to learn. Not the kind of lessons she’d had in mind, anyway. Her job was to learn a totally different lesson—do as you’re fucking told. After a time, she’d realised he manipulated things so she was in the wrong and he had an excuse to punish her.

Fuck, don’t cry now. Keep it all together.

At the top of the stairs, Ruby followed Harry down a long corridor filled with several doors.

“Well, is this your house?” she asked again.

Please tell me I haven’t just stumbled upon one of the richest men alive. Tell me you’re looking after this place. I so don’t need my life to go to shit like that, getting involved with another damn toff.

He stopped suddenly and she collided with his back. Her gasp and inhale brought a giant whiff of his wonderful, natural scent. Harry Something-or-Other had it going on in all departments.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, stepping away from him.

Crap. A blush was spreading to her cheeks. She tried to cover it with some of her hair, but he reached his hands out and stopped her.

“Don’t shield any of yourself from me,” he said gently.

Her vocal cords went into retreat, and she stood still as he pushed her hair off her face, his fingers brushing across the sides and back of her neck. Goosebumps erupted on her skin and she gasped, the tightness in her muscles doubling against the onset of arousal—arousal so quick and unexpected Ruby couldn’t account for it. Not daring to look up, she kept her gaze firmly on his hard chest. A wide, protective chest, one that would surround her as he made love to her.

Where were these erotic thoughts coming from? Master only evoked fear and loathing. This—the thick pulse of warmth between her legs and the tingling sensitivity on her arms and body—could only be described as the instant arousal she’d experienced too long ago to remember.

Her solace to the situation with Master had been to bring herself to orgasm. Had she ever reached orgasm with him? She did once or twice, and was truly amazed at her inability to recall all the amazing sensations lovemaking could bring to a woman—until now. Even when pleasuring a man, she’d found some form of happiness in the act.

“Of course I own this house. What did you think? I was some stray off the street?”

His words struck a chord with her. She was a stray off the street. Biting her lip, she kept her eyes downcast, her usual defence against seeing derision and repulsion in someone’s eyes.

“You never know, stranger things have happened at sea,” she muttered.

“We’re not at sea and the reference is completely irrelevant.”

Oh, God. He thought she was stupid. He sounded like some sort of teacher with the way he spoke. Sure, she’d read plenty of books in her time, was well learned even if she did speak coarse and common, but come on—‘the reference is completely irrelevant’? Was that kind of response really necessary? It was a figure of speech, not something that needed argument.

“I apologise. I’ll keep my silly statements to myself,” she said, cheeks blazing hotter.

He turned away and Ruby couldn’t resist sticking her tongue out at his back.

“That act simply makes you immature and makes me feel the need to call child services.”

Ruby jumped, looking all over his back for some kind of third eye.

How the fuck did he see that?

“I see from your shock you’re wondering how I saw you pulling the predictable face of sticking the tongue out. Well, from your attitude it was easy to predict, but then it helped having the aid of a mirror there.”

Harry pointed to the wall opposite and there it was. She had been so struck with her thoughts and his fine arse she’d failed to see the mirrors dotting the spaces between doors along the entirety of the landing.