As Deep as the Ocean Page 15

  “Take a breath,” he said. Puzzled, she did so. “Now breathe out,” he instructed. “Slowly.” As she blew out the breath, he pushed forward.

  She gasped and clenched, and he stopped, withdrew, then pushed again. Gradually, he slid inside her, half an inch more each time until his hips met the back of her thighs and he was up to the hilt.

  Fred closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of him, hot, hard, throbbing, deep within. She’d forgotten how amazing it felt to have a man inside her, to have his hands holding her tight, his lips on her body. He scooped up more water and splashed it over her, then followed it with his tongue, and she moaned and wrapped her legs around his waist.

  “Jesus,” he said, and he began to move, sliding in and out of her swollen flesh and teasing her more toward the edge with every thrust.

  “Oh, Mac...” Her eyelids fluttered open a fraction, and she looked up into his that burned like a blue flame, so intense she thought she might self-combust.

  He leaned forward over her, the angle meaning that he ground against her with each movement of his hips, and Fred’s breaths grew erratic as pleasure spiraled. She couldn’t believe she was doing this, lying in the late sunshine, stark naked, a gorgeous man thrusting her to oblivion, with the blinds still open so that anyone could see them should they happen to walk by. But she didn’t care, couldn’t think about anything except his mouth and his hands and his hot hardness inside her, and all her muscles were tensing, and she cried out, her orgasm bursting through her, sharp as the first bite into a chili, and just as powerful.

  Mac thrust harder, filling the air with the slick sounds of their lovemaking, and then he shuddered and groaned. Fred lifted her head to watch the pleasure spread across his face as his climax took him, as strong and powerful as her own, by the look of it. His hands were tight on her thighs, his body hard as rock, turned brick-red in the setting sun, the color of Merlot. He was magnificent, and her heart thundered at the realization of what they’d done. They’d consummated their marriage, and even though she told herself it mattered not a jot, because it was just a piece of paper, in her heart she knew that was very far from the truth.

  His eyelids fluttered open, and he focused on her. “Wow,” he said.

  She reached over and turned off the tap. “I’m all wet,” she complained.

  “My work here is done.”

  She laughed and tipped up her face as he leaned over her to press his lips to hers. They exchanged a long, sweet kiss, and it was with some reluctance that she watched him straighten.

  “Careful,” he said, and withdrew from her, holding the condom until he was free and could dispose of it. Fred sighed, already missing him, expecting him to walk off and get a drink from the fridge or something. But he came straight back to her and, to her surprise, lifted her easily into his arms.

  Without saying anything else, he walked out of the kitchen and along the corridor to the main bedroom, carried her over to the bed, and lowered her down.

  “I shouldn’t stay,” she protested. “Ginger and Sandi will be back.”

  “They’ll be a while yet.” He stretched out beside her, all hard muscles and tanned skin. “Come here.” He held out his arms.

  There was nothing wrong with taking a few minutes to relax against that glorious body. The pace of her heart began to slow, and she sighed and snuggled up against him. Beside the bed, she heard Scully sigh as she lay.

  “That was nice.” He tucked one arm under his head and used the fingers of the other to play with Fred’s hair.

  “Mmm.” She rested her chin on his chest and looked up at him. “Did I shock you?”

  “A bit.” He smiled, telling her that he didn’t mind.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t apologize. It was a good sort of shock.”

  “I guess it’s not quite how you expected the evening to end.”

  He gave a lazy shrug. “A man can dream.”

  He’d been dreaming about going to bed with her? It was nice to know he hadn’t just taken advantage of her offer.

  She yawned. “I feel all loose and floppy, like a chicken breast beaten with a mallet.”

  “Mmm.” His fingers continued to run through her hair, a soothing gesture that made her eyes start to close. She shouldn’t stay here. She didn’t want the girls to come back and find her bed empty. This was nobody else’s business, and she didn’t want them making fun of her, or trying to push her into admitting that their marriage was anything more than a signed document.

  Just a few more minutes, she told herself. Then she’d kiss him goodbye and leave, and that would be that.

  THE ROOM GREW DARK and cool, and Fred felt as if someone had given her a sleeping drug. Her limbs were heavy and refused to do as she bid. Several times, she tried to rise, but each time Mac’s arm felt like an iron band around her waist, holding her there.

  The shadows lengthened and the moon rose in the sky, and still she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, could only lie there, feeling the race of her heart, listening to the moreporks calling in the trees. She glanced at the clock—it was nearly midnight. Midnight! She hadn’t meant to sleep for so long. Still, though, she couldn’t bring herself to move.

  It was only gradually that she became aware of a shape in the corner of the room. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision, but she still couldn’t make it out. It was just a shadow, surely... But after a few minutes, it began to take shape. It was a figure. A man. He stood in the semi-darkness, still and menacing. The moonlight sliced across the bed like a steel blade, moving toward the corner as the moon rose. She watched the silver bar start at his feet and lift up his body like a laser scanning a barcode, up and up, illuminating as it went. Eventually, it reached his face. A straight nose cast a shadow over a wide mouth. His gray hair shone dully in the light. His hazel eyes looked like flat, lifeless discs. Familiar eyes, and yet they weren’t filled with love. They were angry, accusatory, and although he didn’t move, didn’t say anything, fear and panic rushed through her, and she gave a great gasp and sat bolt upright, her heart pounding.

  Chapter Twenty

  MAC SNAPPED AWAKE AS the woman in his arms suddenly sat upright with a gasp.

  He’d fallen asleep—he hadn’t meant to. Maybe an hour had passed—the last of the sun’s rays had vanished, and the room had subsided into semi-darkness.

  Fred had scrabbled up the bed until her back reached the headboard, and now she sat staring at the corner of the room, her chest heaving, clearly terrified.

  “Sweetheart, what is it?” He couldn’t see anything there.

  “There was...” She swallowed hard. “Someone standing there.”

  He glanced over. “Nobody’s there, honey.”

  “There was...”

  “Fred, Scully would have barked if someone had come into the room.”

  Her gaze flicked to him, and he could see the white of her eyes around her irises. “Are you sure?”

  His brow furrowed. He leaned over to the bedside table and switched on a lamp, casting the room in a warm glow. Scully lay by the side of the bed, her head on her paws, although she stood as he rose. He pulled on a pair of track pants. She looked unconcerned—there had been nobody there, not even someone she knew, because she would have been excited to see them.

  He suspected that Fred had been dreaming, but nevertheless he clicked his fingers at Scully and got her to follow him around the room, then walked out along the corridor and did a quick patrol of the house. Scully sniffed happily, spotting nothing. It was true that he hadn’t locked the front door, but she ran out and did a pee, and showed no signs of suspicion that anyone had passed by that way.

  Eventually, he returned to the bedroom with her. Fred still sat against the headboard, clutching the duvet, her shoulders drawn up like a little girl, and her gaze still fixed on the corner of the room.

  “It’s all right.” He sat on the bed. “Scully didn’t spot anything.”

  Her eyes slowly came to meet his
, and gradually her shoulders relaxed. “It was just a dream.”

  “I think so. Probably.”

  She moistened her lips. “Thank you for taking me seriously, though.”

  “No worries. Who did you think you saw?”

  “My father.” She rubbed her nose. “It was a dream, of course it was. It was darker in here—I looked at the clock in the dream and it said midnight, and it’s only eight.”

  “Did he say something?”

  “No. He just stared at me. But he was really angry.” Her face shone pale as the moon, and when he reached over and rested a hand on her arm, her skin felt cold and clammy.

  “Why don’t you come into the kitchen? I’ll make us a cup of tea.” Without waiting for her to reply, he went out and fetched her pajamas and brought them back, then left her to get dressed while he returned to the kitchen and filled the kettle. It had just reached the boil when she appeared. She looked younger in the pajamas, with her hair loose around her shoulders, and he felt a surge of protectiveness and pity for this young woman who’d been through so much.

  “Come on.” He knew she liked Earl Grey, and he made the tea, then carried their mugs into the living room and pulled her down onto the sofa beside him. “The girls aren’t back yet,” he told her. “The car’s still missing.”

  She sipped the tea. To his relief, a touch of color had returned to her cheeks. Scully rested her snout on Fred’s knee, and Fred stroked her ear.

  “I’m sorry you had a bad dream,” he said. “I hope I wasn’t the cause of it.”

  “Of course not. At least, not directly.” She ran a finger around the rim of the mug. “I guess what you said was playing on my mind—what my father might say about the two of us getting married. I can’t help but believe he’d be angry with me. I didn’t really think it through. I just wanted the money. But now, I keep thinking about what James did, and how angry Dad would be with me for going against his wishes, especially with James’s son. And I guess after what we just did...” She looked into her tea.

  Mac’s spirits sank. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel guilty or upset because they’d slept together. “I’m sure he wouldn’t feel like that. I’m convinced that if he’d known what my dad was going to do, he wouldn’t have placed that clause on your inheritance the way he did. I can’t believe he’d be angry with you for trying to do your best. Or with me, as it happens. I liked Harry, and I’m sure he liked me too. He would be pleased I’m looking out for you. I hope he would, anyway.”

  “Hope... that’s all we can do, isn’t it?” She looked somewhat forlorn. Then she gave a little laugh and flicked him a wry look. “I’m so sorry—this isn’t the best post-coital discussion, is it?”

  He smiled and reached out to hold her hand. “Hey, I’m just glad you stayed for a while. We might not have gone into this with the intention of it developing into something, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have feelings for each other. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  She gave a cautious nod.

  “Good,” he said. “Look, I know you have your sisters, but you’re the oldest, and I can see that you feel responsibility to be the strong one. I doubt that you open up to them often.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “Not much, no.”

  “Then I hope you feel as if you can talk to me.”

  She turned her mug in her hands. “We agreed that the marriage didn’t mean anything. I don’t want you to feel as if you have to sit and listen to my woes just because we signed a bit of paper.”

  He felt a flare of impatience. Why couldn’t she trust him? “Give me some credit, will you? I like you, Fred. Come on, talk to me. I can see you’re struggling. You’ve been through a hell of a hard time. I’ve been waiting for you to open up, to tell me about your mother, but you seem determined to keep everything to yourself. Isn’t a problem shared a problem halved?”

  She tipped her head from side to side. “Maybe, but I suppose I’m also scared of giving voice to my fears in case it makes them real.”

  “I don’t believe that. Do you?”

  “Okay, maybe not, but sometimes talking about things stirs it all up again, like picking at a scab and stopping it healing.”

  “And not talking about it leaves it festering, like refusing to clean out a wound.”

  She poked her tongue out at him. “Stop using my own metaphors on me.”

  “I just want to understand you. To get to know you better.”

  “Mac, what we just did...”

  “Are you going to give me a lecture about how it meant nothing, and I mustn’t get my hopes up?”

  Now she was getting exasperated. “Something like that.”

  “Save your words. I get it. I’m not assuming that because we slept together it’ll happen again.” Although he hoped it would. “I like you. It’s as simple as that. I wanted to help—I still do.”

  She scratched at a mark on her pajama bottoms. “I suppose I have trouble believing you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart.”

  “Well, believe it, baby. I really am that great a person.”

  She laughed. “Okay.”

  “Come on. Tell me about your mum.”

  Immediately, her smile vanished. “I don’t want to talk about her.”

  Jeez, it was like getting blood out of a really, really hard stone. He should give up, but he couldn’t. He gave a huff of frustration.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s just...” She bit her lip. “I like the way you look at me, and I don’t want that to change.”

  He frowned, puzzled. “Why would I look at you differently?”

  She studied her hands, and suddenly he understood. She was ashamed.

  “Fred,” he murmured. “Nothing you could tell me would make me think any less of you. I’m not judgmental—at least, I try not to be. Everything has a context, and I know you’ve had a hard time. Tell me about it.”

  She swallowed, and for a moment he thought she wasn’t going to say anything.

  Then she sighed, obviously deciding it was time to confess. “I told you Mum was bipolar.”

  “Yes.”

  “Her illness grew worse as time went by. Sometimes, she was okay, but the bad episodes became more frequent and intense. After Dad left, I looked after her. I taught myself to touch type and took secretarial courses in the evenings. I temped a lot—it suited me, as I could do a few days here and there and not have to commit to a full-time job, because when she was bad, she needed me at home. It was hard, but I loved her, and I knew it wasn’t her fault. Her husband had abandoned her, and even though she’d cheated on him, I knew she loved him. I felt sorry for her.” Her lips pressed into a thin line.

  “What happened?”

  “Dad died,” Fred said simply. “And our solicitor forwarded your email. I sat there for ages, reading his letter over and over. I couldn’t believe it. All those years I’d spent hating him, and it wasn’t his fault, or at least, not only his fault.”

  “What did you do?”

  She gazed into the distance, and he had a feeling she wasn’t seeing the living room window or the view outside, but instead some other time and place. “I confronted her. She admitted destroying his and my letters. She told me she was worried he’d take us all away and she’d lose us all. She cried and begged my forgiveness.”

  Mac knew they were drawing near to the heart of the matter, and he felt like holding his breath.

  She frowned. “I was horrified to know he’d died thinking we didn’t love him and wanted nothing to do with him.”

  “I get that,” he said.

  She turned her shining hazel eyes to him. “You have to understand what kind of daughter I was up until that point. I never rebelled. Never argued or shouted. Never challenged my mother. Ginger and Sandi both dyed their hair, had tantrums, did all the things you should do as a teen, but I never did. I always did what I was told—I was always polite and deferential, the perfect daughter. Until that day.”

  Mac
put down his mug. “What happened?”

  “I lost it. I screamed at her that she’d ruined my life. I felt so utterly devastated. She was my mother—she was supposed to support me, be there for me, and instead she’d been cruel and selfish. She’d let me throw my own life away, and she’d ruined my relationship with my father.”

  He went cold inside. What was she trying to tell him? She hadn’t turned physical toward her mother, surely? God, please no. Don’t let her tell him that.

  But she continued, “I walked out, the first time I’d ever done that. I drove down to the sea and spent hours walking along the sea wall, so miserable, absolutely heartbroken. I thought about throwing myself in. Came very close to it. But for the first time, I felt a seed of determination inside me. I wasn’t going to let her ruin my life anymore. I was done with someone else controlling me. I decided I was going to move out, maybe go to nursing school, start all over again...”

  Her voice trailed off. She fell silent for a moment. He didn’t dare say anything to break the spell.

  Then she blinked and swallowed. “When I got back...” She was trembling now. “When I walked in, I saw her on the sofa. A bottle of pills lay on its side, a couple of them on the floor. She’d taken an overdose.”

  All his tension left him in a rush. “Ah, Fred...”

  “I rang for an ambulance immediately, and they took her to hospital, but I was too late. The pills had done too much damage, and she died the next day.” She stared at him, white-faced. She looked terrified of his reaction.

  “Sweetheart,” he said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  As if someone had broken the wall of a dam, the tears tumbled down her cheeks, and she put her face in her hands.

  He slid an arm around her. She stiffened, but he tugged her and said, “Come here,” and she turned to him and pressed her face to his bare chest. Gradually, he felt her melt against him as she let go of the last dregs of resistance.

  Mac whispered, “Shhh,” and stroked her back. “It’s okay,” he murmured, over and over again, while outside the rain began to fall lightly, pattering against the windows.