In the Mists of Time (2 page)

He dragged open her coat, swept one hand over her throat and breast, and she held it there for an instant before his other hand pressed her into his hips and he began to draw her downward.

But Louise knew the hills, even in the mist. “No,” she whispered, resisting. Instantly, he straightened and his arms loosened, but she'd no intention of allowing that. Holding him by the waist, she drew him with her, several steps backward, several more to the left, until she found the big, jutting rock at the base of the next rise.

He came with her willingly, breathing deeply. His hands reached beyond her, feeling the sloping rock at her back. Another of those funny, sexy little smiles flickered across his lips, and then his hips pushed hers against the rock.

His erection, huge and hard, strained against his taut jeans. He ground it between her thighs. She moaned, reaching for him with both arms, impatient as he unzipped his jacket. Now, it seemed, he was in total control, and nothing would stop him. The knowledge excited her beyond endurance. He almost tore open the buttons of her woollen top, and then his hands devoured her breasts. He fell on her, his lips greedy on her skin as he reached behind her to unclip her bra. And then his mouth was on her naked breasts, almost fierce. His tongue lashed her nipples, and she arched into him, moaning, rubbing herself against his trapped erection. His lips closed around her nipples. She felt his teeth grazing, teasing, and then, with sudden strength, he sucked, and she really thought she might orgasm from the bliss of that.

Blindly, she fumbled between their bodies to find the fastening of his jeans, because there was only one way this could go now. While he kissed and sucked on her breasts, his hands were everywhere, roaming under her skirt, stroking her boots, her knees and thighs. Louise wriggled because she couldn't be still. She had his jeans unzipped, had begun to push them down over his hips, when he grasped both of her hands and spread them wide on the rock above her head.

The position drove her wild. She moaned, desperate for the comfort of his cock inside her. Deliberately, he transferred both her hands to one of his and thrust his jeans and underpants the rest of the way down his hips. Although, infuriatingly, she couldn't see it, she knew his cock was free, because she felt it, hot and hard against her naked thigh. His hand delved, thrusting aside the lust-soaked cotton of her knickers. He muttered something incomprehensible in French, perhaps because she was so wet for him. In any case, she had no time to dwell on it, for his hand vanished, to be replaced at once by his cock, sliding between her slick thighs and straight inside her.

He groaned, drowning out her choked-off cry of shock and pleasure. But there was no time to get used to his thickness within her, to savour the sensation of heat and hardness; he thrust again, fiercely, all the way in this time, and with a mindless cry, she pushed up onto him. She'd never been so turned on, so desperate for completion, in her life.

As the mist swirled around them, she writhed and strained with the stranger, the ex-con she'd never met before. She gave herself without inhibition, taking greedily for herself his every hot caress. She seemed to be drowning in his wide, dark eyes. Almost black with passion, they never left her face as he hammered into her, still holding her hands above her head, sometimes using his other hand to hold her hips steady against the rock, for his pounding, at others to knead her naked, hard-peaked breasts.

His every stroke was bliss, raising her higher and higher with impossible speed. Louise, who'd always needed a patient lover, reached for her orgasm with her whole joyful body, and shattered around the almost-fully clothed stranger in moments. Even better, her involuntary clenching seemed to drag him with her. He collapsed on her with a panting shout, burying his face in her hair, his breath hot and shuddering against her cheek.

“God, you're amazing,” he whispered when he could speak.

Her hands, released at last, flopped around him. Or at least around his open rain jacket. Unsatisfied with that, she burrowed underneath it, and his sweater, to find smooth, hot skin, damp from his exertions.

“No, I'm just amazed,” she managed.

He raised his head, his eyes searching hers. “It was too quick.
Over
too quickly. I want you again.”

She tried to laugh. “You can't! Not yet!”

But his deliberate thrust inside her denied her disbelief. And, God knew, he was right. It couldn't be over yet. She wanted more, much more of him.

He slid out of her.

Appalled, she tried to grab him back, but his hands were already on her shoulders, lifting her, turning her so that her front was pressed into the rock and her grazed bottom exposed to the cold, misty air. This time she sighed as he pushed inside her. He slid his hands down her arms, stretching them around the rock, entwining his fingers with hers.

He began more slowly this time, as if to make up for the wild, almost rough first bout. But, somehow, it wasn't enough for either of them, and after a few delicious moments of slow, sensual fucking, he groaned and thrust in hard, and that was even better. She pushed back into him, encouraging him, and again he pounded her, hard and fierce. Her naked breasts were pushed against the rock, but she welcomed the pain as part of the whole amazing, totally necessary experience.

When his breathing quickened even further, and she could hear his groaning voice in it, he released her arms, wrapping his around her upper body instead, straightening and pulling her back against him as he thrust into her. His hands closed over her breasts and his mouth latched on to her nape. She cried out, so close, so close…

He pushed into her with a muffled shout, emptying inside her once more. At the same time, his shaking hand left one breast and slid down to close over her pussy. His fingers moved, as if playing a scale on the piano and Louise came with him, just as hard as before.

I must be dreaming this… I never left home this afternoon, just fell asleep on the sofa.

“What you do to me,” her lover murmured breathlessly. Slowly, he eased his weight off her. His hands moved, finding her tangled bra, drawing it around her, fastening it. “Do you know I could do this again?”

Louise's heart still thundered.
So could I… Do it, then, do it. It doesn't matter if it's insane…

But he was fastening the buttons of her top, and slowly, almost reluctantly, he withdrew from her, adjusted her damp, mangled knickers for her, and drew down her skirt. By the time she turned to face him, his jeans were fastened.

“Next time,” he said, “you must wear jeans. And a chastity belt.”

An involuntary laugh spilled from her lips. “I never realized my old coat and hippy skirt were so sexy. Maybe it's the boots.”

“Maybe it's you.” His arm came around her shoulders. His fingers pushed up her chin until he could kiss her mouth, long and sweet and sensual. Somewhere during it, he began to walk, and she had to break off and pay attention, guiding them both toward the safe path.

He said, “The question is, rather, what was it about me?”

Actually, it was a damned good question. He was a handsome bloke with a nice body—a very nice body, as it turned out—and a hint of danger about him. But she knew many handsome men, some, like Glenn, also with the danger thing going on. But she'd never been remotely tempted to screw any of them with the first hello.

Maybe you just asked.
She wasn't sure which of them that answer insulted more, so she kept it to herself. She refused to feel down now about something that had felt so bloody good at the time.

She grasped his jacket, pulling him with her to the easiest path down the hill.

“You must know these hills very well,” he said curiously.

“I've lived in Ardknocken all my life. This was our playground.”

“Even playgrounds look different in the mist. Glenn was right, I shouldn't have come up here in this. I just never expected it to be quite so impenetrable.”

“Neither did I,” she confessed. “I've never known it so thick.”

“And yet you see right through it.”

“Sort of,” she agreed vaguely. “I always have.”

He turned her face up to his once more. Her stomach dived, just like before. She parted her lips in anticipation.

He paused. “What was that? Is someone crying?”

Louise listened. They seemed to have come down out of the worst of the mist. A faint, muffled whimper drifted towards them. A second later, someone appeared around the edge of the hill, half running, half scrambling down the steeper slope.

Instinctively, Louise and her companion veered towards the figure, who emitted another sob. Louise recognized her.

“Nicole?” she called. “Are you okay?”

The girl stopped. Louise always felt vaguely sorry for her. The general view of the village was that Nicole wasn't all there. She was certainly odd, but Louise suspected she was more eccentric than insane. Mind you, Nicole was a few years younger, so they'd never known each other all that well.

“Fine,” Nicole said. Her gaze flickered over Louise's companion and widened before they flew back to Louise. “Are you?”

“Of course. Can you see through the mist? Do you want to walk down with us?”

“No,” Nicole said. “No.” And she began to run again, slipping and sliding her way down the hill.

Louise frowned after her. “I don't think she is okay. I'd better make sure she gets home.” She looked around her. The mist had lifted. Even higher up, the sun was beginning to penetrate, a pale, almost eerie light. “If you walk straight down this path, you'll end up by the big house. I'm going to follow Nicole.”

“Wait,” he said, holding her still at his side a moment longer. “Will we meet again? I don't even know your name.”

She swallowed. After what she'd just done, she wasn't sure she should admit to it. “Louise,” she confessed at last.

And for some reason, he smiled. He had a really gorgeous smile, sort of mischievous and shy, all at once, and Louise's heart turned over.

“Then we'll meet again,” he said. His head swooped, and he kissed her mouth once more, a little hard and blatantly sensual.

Part of her ached to stay just where she was, to take his hand and bring him with her, to take him home and maybe to bed for more of his delicious sex. But reality was setting in fast and with it, appalled shame. So although she kissed him back, she slid out of his arms as soon as his mouth released hers, and ran down the hill after Nicole. She was afraid to look back in case he was still watching her. Or in case he'd vanished without a second thought about her.

* * * * *

“Wow,” Izzy whispered as Glenn finally eased himself down beside her in the bed. “What brought that on?”

Glenn smiled sleepily. “You tell me. Temptress.”

“Not sure who tempted whom,” Izzy admitted in the interests of honesty. “But it had a pretty spectacular result.”

Glenn's eyes darkened, his smile turning just a little wolfish.

Izzy touched his lips, tracing their shape. “I do love you,” she whispered.

His lips moved, kissing her fingers. His arms tightened around her. “I still don't know why.”

“It's the sex,” she teased. “You are rather fabulous in bed.”

“You're mistaking fabulous for desperate.”

“You couldn't have been desperate just now,” Izzy pointed out. “We made love before we got up this morning.”

“I
was
desperate,” Glenn insisted, “for you. In fact, I'm getting pretty desperate again.”

Izzy's calming heart began to gallop again. “Don't we have a busy day?” she asked breathlessly. “Preparing for tonight's workshops and everything…”

“Later,” Glenn said, rolling over her and pushing inside her still tingling body.

“Oh my,” she gasped, thrusting up onto him, throwing both arms around his neck. “Later, whenever…”

Over his moving shoulder, the window of their attic bedroom looked white with opaque, swirling mist.

Chapter Two

When Louise woke up at six the following morning, she had difficulty separating yesterday's wild and sexy interlude in the mist from her dreams.

It
must
have been a dream,
she thought, with a weird mixture of relief and disappointment. She didn't want the discomfort of having behaved so far out of character, the shame of screwing a total stranger on the strength of no more than a hello. More than that, she was appalled by what that might tell him about her loneliness, her desperation for a man. Any man.

On the other hand, the guilty memory was exciting and sweet, and the dark, bold part of her wanted it to be real. That part of her wished she were more like that girl in the mist, a girl who could have no-strings fun, a temptress.

Of course, the other reason for the incident to be merely an erotic dream was the fact that they'd used no protection whatsoever. And there was no excuse for that. Louise was not that stupid and never had been, not before this.

Six o'clock. Time to get up and get breakfast on. There were two guests staying at the B&B. A solitary fisherman had taken the self-catering flat, although he sometimes came in for breakfast. And Kev, one of her regular lorry drivers, had his usual room on the first floor. Kev had an early start.

Crossing the bedroom, she shrugged out of her pyjama top and caught sight of herself in the mirror. She paused, staring, then walked closer to the mirror. Her left breast had a faint red graze across it, just above the nipple. As if she'd fallen awkwardly. Or rubbed against a rock while getting fucked from behind.

Heat flamed. It
was
real. It had to be real. The heavy, slightly stinging discomfort between her legs was nothing to do with period pain—her period had ended only a couple of days ago, which was just as well in the circumstances—but with being deliciously and furiously screwed. Twice.

“Oh God,” she whispered, dragging her robe from the back of the door and leaving the room, heading for the family bathroom like an automaton. How could she ever hold up her head again? What if he'd told everyone? What if Glenn and Izzy and Chrissy knew? Her brother, Aidan, would hear and accuse both Louise and her lover, whose name she didn't even know, of God knew what. He'd be right too. She really had indulged in a moment of madness, had unprotected sex with a stranger, an ex-con.

Shit, she'd need to do something about this, get tested…

But she couldn't think about it right now. She needed to forget about it and start her day. At least he would realize she was Aidan's sister—he
had
seemed to recognize her name—and keep his mouth shut. And for Izzy's sake, surely Glenn himself would frown at any such gossip…? Damn, if she were really that wicked good-time temptress she'd thought she was when she was screwing a stranger in the mist, she wouldn't care about gossip, would she?

In Ardknocken, you
had
to care about gossip if you wanted to live here.

* * * * *

The morning rush helped. She checked on her parents, took them tea, then set the guest dining room table and cooked Kev his favourite fry-up. While he ate it, she caught up on all the latest doings of Mrs. Kev and the little Kevs. Ron from the top flat hadn't come in by the time Kev left, so she dumped the dirty dishes for later and went to help her parents get up.

This was much easier now that a carer came to help, particularly with her father. His dementia was deteriorating rapidly, and he needed to be lifted out of bed and to the stairlift, and then into his chair for the day. Occasionally he still tried to get out of the chair by himself, but, mostly, he couldn't really be bothered.

She and her parents had had breakfast together and she'd just settled them in the living room when the doorbell rang.

“Must be Cerys,” Louise said. “Bright and early!”

Cerys was the girl from the village who ostensibly came to help Louise with the housework, but whose first priority was really to look after her parents so that Louise could concentrate on other things—like the business and shopping and sanity. Only eighteen years old, Cerys was a breath of fresh air: full of life and fun, and yet caring and sensible. In the last three months, Louise had come to value her hugely, and, more importantly, both her parents liked having her around.

So, Louise opened the front door with a flourish and a smile, a long-standing joke already forming on her lips—and beheld not Cerys but a tall, dark man who was no longer a stranger. Her lover from yesterday.

Blood rushed through her body into her face.
How dare he come here to my parents' house?
she thought in panic, and not entirely reasonably. Shame and outrage mingled with insidious excitement, and through it all, awareness that even though she felt oddly persecuted by his appearance, he still looked gorgeous. While she wore old jeans and a tunic no doubt splattered with bacon fat, had her hair dragged back from her face and tied any old how.
Unglamorous
was the most flattering description she could bring to mind.

“Hello,” he said, his eyes steady and serious on her face. “I understand you have a computer problem.”

Oh God.
“You're Glenn's computer man,” she blurted, appalled.

“Thierry Duplessis.” He actually offered her his hand.

Were they going to pretend yesterday had never happened? Well, that was fine with her. It would make everything much easier.

She took his hand, very briefly since her own was shaking, and muttered, “Louise Grieve. Come in. The computer's through here.”

She almost raced past the living room to the tiny space she used as an office, then stood aside to let him go in. She knew she was behaving badly. This wasn't a paid tradesman. Leaving yesterday aside, he was a friend of a friend who'd offered to do her a favour. At the very least, he deserved the decencies of hospitality.

“Would you like some coffee?” she asked, trying not to sound stiff. “Breakfast?”

He was already walking towards the computer. As he bent to switch it on, he glanced back over his shoulder. “Coffee would be nice.”

At least it got her away from him. She wanted to shut him in the office so no one would know he was here. Stupid. Glenn and Chrissy would know he was here.

She made a big pot of coffee and took a cup each to her parents before venturing back to the office with her own and Thierry's. He'd thrown his jacket over the office chair. Beneath it, he wore a slightly crumpled button-down shirt and faded blue jeans. He'd taken the side off the computer to reveal its guts, and was clicking so fast at things on the screen that Louise couldn't see what they were.

This, surely, was the man who'd stolen millions from an insurance company by computer fraud. Robbing a B&B that was only just solvent again would be a bit of a comedown. Hell, if he fixed her computer, he could have the twenty pounds and forty-two pence that was still in the business account.

Not that she truly expected to be robbed. He was a friend of Glenn's. And though Glenn had an exceedingly dodgy past and was just a little scary, she trusted him. This man…she'd trusted him well enough yesterday to have unprotected sex with him.

The cups wobbled as she set the tray on the edge of the desk, desperately trying to dislodge the image of his lust-filled face moving above hers as he pushed and pushed inside her…

She swallowed hard. “Have you found my problem?”

He glanced at her. “I'm afraid you have many problems. Your hardware is old and you have too little memory. Plus, you're clogged up with temporary files and several nasty little viruses.”

“Oh dear.” She sat on the rickety old kitchen chair at the side of the desk. “Can you fix it?”

“I can clean it up for you, give you a bit more memory. But if you want my advice, get a new computer.”

She gave a crooked smile. “Can I get one for twenty pounds and forty-two pence?”

“Maybe,” he said, still gazing at the screen and clicking.

She blinked. “You didn't hear what I said, did you?”

He cast her one of his flashing smiles and her heart dived annoyingly downwards. “Yes.” Casually he reached across the desk, curling his long fingers around one of the mugs.

Brought to herself, Louise asked hastily, “Milk? Sugar?”

“No, thanks.” His mouse hand had stilled, and for the first time she sensed she had something like his full attention. She wasn't sure if this pleased or terrified her. “I have a lot of stuff in my workshop from when we upgraded the computers at the house. Some of it's new, some secondhand but still better than you have here. If you like, I'll check out what's there and see if I can build you a new computer.”

Her mouth fell open. “Really? But wouldn't I lose all my files? I've got bookings and accounts and the website stuff—”

“It should transfer.” He took a mouthful of coffee and then another.

She drew in her breath. “But even if you have the stuff, this would use up an awful lot of your time—rather more than twenty pounds' worth!”

He shrugged. “Tell your friends how helpful I was. Spread the word and pay me back in advertising.”

I'd see him again. He'd be here a lot, surely…
She forced herself to drop the hand she was pressing to her chest as if smothering the galloping beats of her heart. Excitement warred with acute discomfort.

“Or dinner,” he said, and she stood abruptly, her face, her whole body flaming in anger she didn't even understand.

“Look!” she began, with no clear idea what she'd say next. Fortunately, perhaps, the doorbell interrupted her, and she whisked herself out of the room.

It was Cerys, bright and happy as ever in her grungy clothes and bleached-blonde hair. “Hi, Louise! What's first? Just the usual?”

“Yes, thanks. I'll be going out, but I'll come and speak to you first.”

As Cerys breezed into the living room to greet Louise's parents, Louise walked back down the hall to the office and stood in the doorway.

Thierry was screwing the side back onto her computer, his fingers deft and quick. Then he pushed the screwdriver into his back pocket and straightened to face her.

“You want to pretend it didn't happen.”

Instinctively, Louise stepped into the room and closed the door. She didn't want Cerys or anyone else hearing this. Although as soon as she leaned back against the door, she realized horribly how it must look to him and actually held up one hand to ward him off.

“That would be stupid,” she said. “But we don't need to repeat it.”

His dark eyes searched her face. “Don't we? It was very—”

“No,” she interrupted. “We don't! It was a…an aberration, a moment of madness I can't afford in my life.”

“I see.” His eyelids swept down like hoods, long, black lashes fanning out against pale cheeks. Prison palour…

Ridiculously, it crossed her mind that she'd hurt him. Deep down, she knew she had no power to do that, and yet she couldn't help trying to make it better. “I don't do things like that. It isn't who I am!”

His heavy eyelids lifted once more. “It must be,” he said with devastating simplicity. He shrugged and turned away, grabbing up his coat and the battered canvas satchel he'd brought with him. “But I make you uncomfortable. I'm sorry.”

She stumbled out of his way, pulling open the door for him. But it was a small room. She barely had time to panic as he approached her and paused. She could feel the warmth emanating from his body. Worse, she could smell him, the scent of his skin, which had swamped her yesterday as he made amazing love to her. She swallowed convulsively.

His lips parted as if he was going to speak. He'd kissed her when they'd parted on the hill, when she'd just begun to regret her outrageous behaviour.

He closed his mouth, his lips twisting into the faintest smile before he brushed past her into the hall. Cerys, emerging from the living room, wished him a cheerful good-morning and opened the door for him. He didn't glance back.

“Wow,” Cerys whispered after she'd closed the door. “Is he staying here?”

Louise cleared her throat. “No. He's from the big house. He was having a look at the computer for me.”

“Can he help?”

“Not sure,” Louise said vaguely. She thought she might have blown her free computer deal. Worse, she'd just let the best lover she'd ever had, or was likely to have, walk away from her.

As she went upstairs to clean Kev's room, a word from childhood echoed around her head, accusing and jeering.
“Fearty.”

* * * * *

Later that morning, she walked round to Nicole's house on her way to the shops. After pursuing her down the hill yesterday afternoon, she hadn't been able to catch her. No one had answered the door of her cottage. This time, the cottage door opened as she reached it, and Nicole stepped out.

“Hello,” Louise said. “I dropped round to see you yesterday—are you okay?”

“Yes, I'm fine.” She frowned. “Did you see him too?”

“Who?”

“The stranger.”

“Thierry?” Louise asked, adding hastily, “The man who was with me?”

“No, he's from the big house, isn't he? There was someone else on the hill.” She shivered. “Nasty man.”

“Nasty? In what way?”

Nicole shrugged. “He grabbed me. I had to kick him where it hurts.”

“Shit,” Louise said, staring. “Were you running away from him when I met you?”

“Yes. I hope he floundered about up there for a long time.”

“So do I,” Louise agreed cordially. “Did you report this to the police?”

Nicole glanced at her, a shockingly cynical look. “What would be the point?”

Many of the villagers had always discounted everything Nicole said. Because she was a little odd. And maybe Louise should have been doing the same right now, only she'd seen Nicole's fear on the hill, and her concern for Louise.