“No. Nothing. I haven’t heard anything either.” Despite trying. Not everything, not yet. There were still some lines I hadn’t tapped into, but for all purposes he had dropped off the edge of the earth.
“We’ve had more intel that he was behind planned attacks on me.” Her voice is flat.
“Do you believe that?”
She doesn’t respond, not at first.
“Do I think the man who fucked me every night and told me he loved me wanted me dead? I don’t want to think that, but I’m not sure who I can trust.” Her gaze tells me she can’t trust me either.
“I don’t believe he was involved in anything that would hurt you.” I take a step closer and realise my heart is heavy in my chest.
She doesn’t move, just watches.
“Blair, I know this is shit. I know how you feel about Ben…”
“And you. I feel things for you too and it’s so fucking confusing, because when Ben was here he made it make sense and now he’s not. Am I cheating? When will I stop waiting for him to come back?” She stands up and heads to me.
It’s easy to open my arms and pull her towards me. She feels cold and fragile, even though I know she’s not. Her hair smells of the loch and mist and I’m not sure how I’m going to fucking leave her in a few hours.
“Does it have to make sense?” Because I understand what she’s saying. “And I’m going to say it’s not cheating, because it was the three of us, and sometimes it was two of us.” My words peter out because I don’t know what she knows of me and Ben together.
“I know. I get that. And he isn’t here. I can’t make a decision when I don’t have all the facts.” She presses her forehead to my chest and I feel her relax.
“And I can’t tell you what to do, because I have a vested interest in us.” I search for the words because they aren’t ones I’ve spoken before. “Even without Ben, I want an us.”
“Even though I have a castle full of baggage?”
“It isn’t about that. I don’t care what your responsibilities are or what deals you have to make with the devil.”
“What if you are the devil?” She looks up at me, shifts her head back. “Dark hair and this pirate’s jaw.”
Her thumb brushes over my stubble, touches my lip. I don’t fight the shiver; I just hold her tighter.
“And eyes like the emeralds on the necklace you sent me. Why did you send me that?”
I grasp her hands and guide her to a leather chair, one that’s seen better days. I sit down and pull her on to my knee, sure that we won’t be disturbed because someone downstairs has opened the champagne even though there’s nothing to celebrate.
“Because it should’ve been yours years ago.”
“What do you mean?”
She straddles me, a knee on either side, squashed in between me and the arms of the chair. Her long skirt billows over us and my cock knows instantly I’ve got easy access.
“You know the door isn’t locked.” I don’t care but Blair may and probably should.
“No one will come up, and if they do, what will they say? They already speculate. Tell me about the emeralds.” Her hands press against my shoulders, her tits at eye level and it’s too easy for my hands to open the few buttons at the top of her fitted shirt, trying not to pull too hard so they pop away.
Her bra is black lace, sheer enough for me to see her nipples, tight and dark, and ripe for me to pinch and rub, knowing the friction from the lace will send that jolt of pleasure through her. Outside the tall windows a greyness that has never really become light plays with the trees and their bare branches.
Spring is a long way away.
I run my hands down over her breasts to her waist, slowly, knowing she likes it fast and rough. Today she’s only having one and it won’t be fast.
“Tell me about the emeralds.” There a hitch to her voice that I’ve put there.
“They belonged to your grandmother. Before she married your grandfather.” I know the story well. I heard it not far from the bedroom that she now has. She doesn’t know, doesn’t remember me. Why would she from back then?
“My grandmother’s family were poor. They lost everything.”
