TouchStone for ever (The Story of Us Trilogy) (17 page)

I’m thankful for
that. We stand, bow our heads and turn to leave. From nowhere a distraught
woman of around sixty launches herself at Ayden, her eyes wild.

“You bastard! You
caused this.” With an outstretched arm she slaps him across the face. The crack
of her hand on his cheek echoes around the small chapel. ”I hope you rot in
hell for what you’ve done.” With that she loses her balance; other family
members take hold of her arms and lead her away.

Like the rest of the
congregation, I’m stunned into silence. Ayden is rocked by her outburst and
seems frozen to the spot as if carved out of ice.

Jake pushes me
forward. “Take his arm. Let’s get out of here! We should never have come. He’s
been ambushed.” He squeezes past me and storms off ahead of us. I see him
signalling to Lester from the door to bring the car round to the entrance.

As I stand anxiously,
waiting to flee the scene, out of the corner of my eye I spot D.I. Bowker
approaching us.

Shit!

He stretches out his
hand to shake Ayden’s. “Mr. Stone, Mrs. Stone. Good morning. Here for Miss.
Richards’s cremation I see.”

Forgetting that Ayden
hears his every thought, I speak first. “Yes. It was the least we could do.”

“That’s a very
magnanimous gesture, Mrs. Stone.”

He knows about
Cambridge.

Shit!

Ayden confronts him.
“What happened was shocking. She had her issues, but that said, her passing is
tragic in the extreme.”

Our Inspector isn’t
buying it. “Yes it is, Mr. Stone, particularly as you and she were so close.”
He sneers and turns away.

“As I have indicated
previously, Detective Inspector, we were not
close
,” Ayden says by way
of a rebuttal “We had a friendship which she misinterpreted as something more
meaningful.”

Lester remains seated
to make a quick getaway while Ayden opens the door for me. “As we are all
aware, I was not responsible for Miss. Richards’s death. She got into my
vehicle with the sole purpose of ending both our lives. You have her note and
her fingerprints all over the steering wheel as I recall.”

“Yes. We do.”

“In that case is
there anything else I can help you with?”

He strokes his chin,
making Ayden wait even though he knows precisely what he’s thinking. “There is
one thing.”

Ayden sighs
impatiently. “Yes?”

“Are you aware of
Miss. Richards’s association with Mr. Rizler?”

I lean back into my
seat.

Shit!

Ayden shakes his head
and sneers. “How could I be? We did not operate in the same social circles and,
to my knowledge, Mr. Rizler had no interest in Media at a corporate level.”

Even I flinch at his
reply; it reeks of self-serving arrogance but it’s a sure fire conversation
stopper.

The Inspector slips
his right hand into his pocket, preparing to leave. “I think we are both aware
that his interests revolved around your wife Mr. Stone, and had done so for
some time.”

“Of that we are in
agreement. Anything else?”

“Not at the moment,
thank you.” The Inspector takes a step back, giving Ayden the space he needs to
duck into the car but, before we can pull away, he taps on the glass, flips out
a notepad and reads from it.

“Mrs. Stone, can you
confirm that you were at Cambridge University between the years 2005 and 2008?”

Say yes, he knows.

“Yes. I can.” I
sweeten my reply with a smile. “I secured a First Class Degree in English
Language and Literature there.”

He smiles politely.
“Well done. Thank you for your time. Do enjoy the rest of your day.”

Immediately Ayden
clicks the button to raise the glass and meets Lester’s eye in the rear view
mirror. Smoothly, we edge forward, leaving the mourners behind.

“That man continues
to make a nuisance of himself,” Ayden says incensed by the Inspectors audacity.
“Why must he persist in digging up the past?”

“Because he thinks
there’s something worth unearthing,” I explain turning to count headstones upon
which faceless names are inscribed. “He’s trying to make a connection between
me and Dan Rizler.”

“Well he will have to
keep looking. I won’t have him dragging your name through the mud because some
sociopathic misfit has been obsessing over you for the past seven years.”

I wrap my right hand
tightly around his arm. “But what about Elise? What if he traces you both back
to Bright Hill?” I let out a weighty sigh as we approach the gates.

Ayden answers
abruptly, “Then I’ll deal with it.” He calls out to Lester. “Stop at the
gates.”

I face him, horror
stricken. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see. Trust
me.” He repositions his tie.

“I do, but don’t you
think it’s best to get away from here as quickly as we can?”

“No. Already the
press are wondering why we’re here. If I don’t give them something to print,
they’ll make it up. I can diffuse the situation with a simple statement.”

My thumbnail finds
its way to my mouth. “I’ll stay in the car.”

“You can’t. We have
to present a united front.” He takes my hand and holds it to his lips for a
second. “You see darling, in warfare there are four approaches.“ He sticks out
the fingers of his right hand and proceeds to count.

“One, to evade, which
I cannot; two, to feign weakness, which I’m not prepared to do; three, to
out-manoeuver, which I dare not do for obvious reasons; and four, to launch an
attack when least expected. Hence the pre-emptive strike.”

“Bloody hell, you
have been thinking this through.” I shake my head in disbelief. “Is this really
necessary? Can’t we just go home, finish packing and catch a flight to Hong
Kong and begin our honeymoon?”

He shakes his head
ruefully. ”Only if you want your husband’s integrity and your honour to be in
disarray when we return. Our Detective Inspector Bowker is a like a dog with a
bone. No matter how one might try to relieve him of it, he would rather bite
your hand than let it go. Of that I have no doubt.”

The car slows and the
expectant reporters gather like vultures ready to tear us limb from limb.

I take an energising
breath. ”Alright, what should I do?”

“Nothing. Stand at my
side and be the beautiful woman you are. You need do no more than that to
disarm them.”

I smile confidently.
“I can do that.”

He kisses my cheek.
“Ready?” I nod. “Good. Let me put us in the spotlight.”

I swing my head to
the left and see the clouds parting; a beam of light shines down, making me
giggle. “That trick will never grow old.”  

“It’s a classic. Take
my hand.” Ayden steps from the car and helps me do the same.

I feel the heat of
the sun’s rays on my face and I raise my chin to receive its blessing.

“Ladies and
gentlemen, before we head off on our honeymoon I would like to make a brief
statement.” Cameras are rolling. “Elizabeth and I are here today to pay our
respects to Elise Richards. As you will recall, she became very unstable a week
or so ago and tried to take her own life and mine. Sadly, I could not keep
control of the vehicle and we were both involved in a crash that proved to be
fatal for Miss. Richards.

For the record, I was
not romantically involved with Miss. Richards, but I think that due to
emotional instability she found that hard to accept.”

He pauses to take a
breath. “We met just over a year ago when she assisted in the purchasing and
remodelling of my home, having worked at the Estate Agency handling the
listing. We became friends. Unfortunately, my relationship with Elizabeth
seemed to put a strain on that friendship and she became highly unstable, to
the point I became concerned about her mental health. Not wanting to prolong
her suffering I terminated our friendship; and it is with much regret that I
can look back and see how that added fuel to an already inflamed and unstable
temperament. For some reason, Miss. Richards’s family seem to think I’m
responsible in some way for her untimely death, but this is not the case. I became
embroiled in her fantasy through no fault of my own and was drawn into a
suicide pact over which I had little control.

Elizabeth and I would
like nothing more than to start our honeymoon and to leave all this behind us.
Our thoughts are with her family and friends at this time of sorrow and loss.
Thank you for your patience.”

With that he leads me
back to the car and we are on our way in less than a minute. It’s another three
or four minutes before I speak. “You were very good.”

“Thank you. Now they
have something to report, it may stop them looking for more.

Feeling as if a great
weight has been lifted from our shoulders I relax and lean onto Ayden’s arm.
Now I have only one question to ask before we arrive back home. “Why did that
woman slap you?”

“She wrongly believed
I was responsible for Elise’s death. But I suppose a mother – or stepmother –
will clutch at straws at moments like this.” He turns to look at the clouds as
they merge, filling the sun-drenched cavity he had opened up. “She wasn’t privy
to the facts.”

“What was she
thinking?”

“That I had abandoned
Elise, cast her aside for you, which was not the case.” He places a soft kiss
on my head. “Your husband was not romantically involved with her; it was more
of a fait accompli. She had her agenda and he was obligated to go along with
it.”

“That’s what I
thought. Did he love her?” I ask lifting my head to read his expression.

He pauses. “You ask
me that?”

I nod, silent and
pensive.

“He felt a great
affection for her but not with the over-powering sexual intensity he feels for
you; not that way. It was more … familial than sexual.”

I fall silent again.

“Does that put your
mind at rest?” he asks softly.

“Yes.” I fiddle with
my rings and we sit in silence for the remainder for the journey.

I’m
grateful for Bernie’s help with the packing. Unbeknown to me she used to pack
Ayden’s case regularly and has made a point of ensuring his clothes are
perfectly matched, as selected for him by his designer. If I’m honest, Ayden
could wear a boiler suit and make it look good. Unfortunately, I’m less blessed
in that department and must rely on flattering clothes and accessories to
complement my look.

Thanks to Celine’s
keen eye for detail and colour, my task is not so difficult. I leave Bernie to
assemble handbags, shoes and everything seems to fall into place.

Ayden is missing,
unwilling to participate in such menial tasks. He has a planet to plunder and
no amount of pestering on my part will extricate him from his other job.

With the packing
done, I make my way to the office down the hall. He’s sitting in the plush
leather chair with his back to me, wearing no more than a white shirt and suit
pants. Pictures from our Roman holiday are appearing one after the other on the
digital picture frame and I’m smiling more widely with each recollection.

“We had a lot of fun
in Rome,” I remark, positioning myself behind him. “Do you have a recollection
of Miss Magnani?” I place my right hand on his shoulder close enough to allow
the scent of his hair to waft over me. “She was your biggest fan, for a day.” I
snigger at the thought.

Concerned at not
receiving a reply, I swivel the chair around. “Are you accessing that memory?”

Ayden cannot reply
because he is ‘sleeping.’ I should have known by his regular breaths and the
way his chest gently rises and falls. Taking a moment, I settle myself across
his knee and wrap my arms around his neck. My nose fits perfectly under his
chin.

As before, he makes a
moaning sound and his eyes are flickering; he’s being troubled by images that
have him wincing as if in pain. I wrap my palm around his left cheek and nuzzle
into his neck. “Hush, baby, I’m here.” As before, he settles and I am left
wondering what the hell’s happening. Stifling tears, I thread my fingers through
his hair and pull him in tight until my eyes close and I feel myself dozing.

Strong arms enfold me
and I awake to the sensation of a heaving chest. I am not alone. I release my
grip and sit upright. Ayden’s hand is at my back keeping me balanced.

“I fell asleep,” I
confess, still feeling a little groggy. “You weren’t here.”

He shakes his head.
“No, I was otherwise occupied.”

 I catch him glancing
at the digital picture frame. “Those were taken in Rome.”

“Mmm. I have a
recollection of that.” His mouth twitches at the memory.

“Why are you
smirking?” I ask, curiously.

“I can recall
architecture, food and much happiness, but by far the strongest image is of
sexual encounters with you.” His eyes find mine.

My eyes widen at the
thought and I feel my cheeks beginning to glow. Out of embarrassment I giggle
and look away.

A sexy smile forms,
one I know so well. The skin around his eyes wrinkles, folds into tiny creases
and stays that way until such time as the smile straightens into a pout. “My
darling wife, I do believe you’re blushing.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Not at all, I’m
close to blushing myself and I wasn’t even there.”

His declaration makes
me laugh. “Then you shouldn’t be such a voyeur.”

He grins at my
description. “How else will I be able to engage …”

“Engage?” I
interject. “Is that what you call it? Engaging in someone else’s sexual
liaisons?” I’m shaking my head and tutting like a school marm. “And by engage
do you mean ‘see’ or ‘experience’?”

He takes hold of my
hand and places it on the bulging mass, straining against his zip. “You tell
me.”

I grasp his erection
through the suit material, feeling ridges and sinews protruding through
underwear and seams. Fearlessly I look into his eyes. “What are you thinking
about? What’s made you so hard?”

“Harder,” he
corrects. “I’m in a permanent state of arousal, remember? It takes an enormous
amount of willpower on my part to control it.” He folds his left hand around my
face. “Your husband’s virility is a force to be reckoned with. I have never
experienced anything quite like this before.”

“Perhaps you should
take a cold shower?”

He raises a hopeful
brow. “Perhaps I should spread you out on this desk? I can tell you’re aroused.
”

“This is true,” I
reply for my own amusement, feeling seriously tempted. “Why bother with the
desk?”

“Why indeed when we
have a comfortable bed a few yards down the hall.” He raises an optimistic
brow.

I play with a wayward
curl on his forehead. “But we have a plane to catch…”

“Not for another
three hours,” he reminds me. “What do you have in mind?”

“I hadn’t thought
that far ahead,” I lie.

As if to set the
mood, the sun sets behind the winter clouds as they rush to collide and
conspire. Subtle lamplight casts muted colours across the desk, softening the
surface with a kaleidoscopic quilt, inviting me to lie upon it. At one and the
same time I am at ease and empowered; passionate thoughts abound as a gentle
glow rests upon Ayden’s face. I am bewitched by his ethereal beauty. I have
been so caught up in his sorcery I have become indifferent; only now am I in
awe of his staggering masculinity. How could I ever consider letting him go?

“You’ve played your
part to perfection so far.“ I swaddle his face in my palms. “How can I reward
you?”

His mouth twitches a
little on the right. “I seek only one gift.”

Feeling bashful, I
tilt my head and for some reason my thumb finds its way into my mouth. “Would
that gift be - s
ex?”
I feel his fingers above my knee, slipping beneath
the hem of my dress.

He shakes his head.

“What then?” I ask
quizzically.

His face breaks into
a tender smile “Your love, Beth.”

The smoky hues
appearing in his eyes are causing my breath to quicken. He takes my hand from
my mouth and fixes it against his cheek, almost covering it with his own. Long,
dark lashes sweep away any doubt I might have had that I wouldn’t do
anything
to save this husband of mine.

I brush my lips
against his, savouring the soft freshness of rejuvenated skin. My mouth invites
him to taste me, to enter me, body and soul.

I unbutton his shirt
to reveal flexing muscles and downy hair into which I weave my fingers. A moan
of pleasure ripples against my lips and I press on with my audacious
exploration, becoming more aware of his racing pulse.

This is the day I
will cease to mourn. On this day, of all days, I will make it my sole purpose
in life to celebrate love as a woman might, having been reprieved from
execution for a crime she did not commit. I have been touched by Death several
times, but only now do I understand the simplicity of my task; to love like
today is the first day of forever …

Ayden raises his
eyelids having read my thoughts; the glistening iridescence of this universal
truth radiates from his eyes like starlight, causing my palpating heart to
soar. I smile softly, without fear or foreboding.

I can do this.

“I want to make love
to you, Ayden,” I whisper.

In a single movement
he raises me off the chair and I’m swept along the corridor to our bedroom.
Behind me lights are turned off: the lamp, even the spotlights overhead. It’s
as if I am leaving the darkness behind and heading into the light with him.

Once inside he places
me down onto the bed. He closes the door and is confronted by the suit of
armour; make-believe metal and chainmail. He cocks his head to the right and
fingers the material.

I put his mind at
rest. “It was Ayden’s for Charlie’s fancy dress party; he was busy with work
and never got to wear it. Maybe you could wear it?”

Laughing, he turns to
face me. “Do you mean now?”

I shake my head and
mirror his laugher. “No, of course not, we can have a party after our honeymoon
and you can wear it then.”

“Mmm … I could. And
you could be my fair maiden.”

“You could be my
knight in shining armour?”

He gives me a wry
smile. “I thought I already was …”

All I can do is roll
my eyes. “We’ll see.” I pat the duvet. “Come and lie next to me Sir Lancelot.”

He kicks off his
shoes and slides across the bed.  “Of course my darling, Guinevere.”

“Bat Girl,” I
snigger.”

“Who?”

 “I was Bat Girl. We
had fun that night with costumes. Check it out. I’ll put some music on.”

He falls onto his
back, filtering through memories until he comes across the very scene. Music
begins but he is undisturbed by it; he’s transported back to that night before
we left for Vegas, before he was taken away from me and I was almost taken from
him. The music fills the empty space.

I place my hand on
his chest where his shirt is now undone. I feel the thumping of a heart beneath
flesh and watch his lungs inflate and deflate, expelling hot breath. He
clenches the duvet almost tearing it into shreds.

He sees us.

He feels us.

He turns to me
sharply. “Fuck, Beth!”

His response shocks
me. “What? What did you see?”

“Everything. I felt
everything.” He pulls my mouth onto his fiercely.

I barely have time to
catch my breath before I am flattened by his muscular torso. I buckle and fold
into the mattress. Forceful hands, hard flesh and a devilish tongue lay siege
to my body, causing my senses to stampede towards surrender.

I break free and come
up for air, gasping, calling his name. “Ay-den!” It leaves my mouth in a
garbled cry. But so frenzied is his assault upon my senses he cannot hear me.
With his mouth on mine and unable to form words, I send out my thought as a
plea for salvation.

Stop! You promised
not to hurt me. Stop!

In a crescendo of
movement and an agonising cry, he’s catapulted into the closed door with an
almighty thud. The suit of armour comes crashing down onto him.

Still gasping I sit
up, resting my weight on my elbows while my heart rate slows, infinitesimally.
Through lips still tingling from his onslaught I ask, “What the hell just
happened?”

Like a man
intoxicated by desire he shakes his head free of the chainmail and lascivious
thoughts.  When the sound of tumbling metal comes to an end he attempts to
rediscover some semblance of normality.

Seeing him like this
- this man who can sweep clouds from the sky and silence a room with the click
of his fingers - sitting in a mound of silver vestments, breathless, is not a
sight to be easily forgotten. I try to hold off on a giggle but I can’t, even
though I may suffer his wrath because of it.  He sees the laughter in my eyes
and, unwilling to endure the indignation of a less than stellar performance,
offers a sigh.

“Your husband and his
sex drive have me so turned-on I can’t control myself.” He tries to extricate
himself from a mismatched tangle of shoulder pads and sleeves. “His memories of
coitus with you are over-powering. I can’t help myself …”

I slither down from
the bed and crawl over to him. ”Oh we did enjoy our coitus,” I state impishly.

He lifts my chin.
“Did I hurt you?”

“No, but you scared
me. I thought you were out of control. I had to shout my thoughts …”

“Yes you did, and I
apologise. I’ll have to filter out some of these libidinous feelings I have for
you or I will become … overwhelmed.”

I pull back an inch
or two. “By ‘overwhelmed’ you mean out of control?”

“Perhaps.”

“But I thought you
were all powerful. You can control everything, except fate.”

He shakes his head,
struggling to rationalise his responses. “So did I. This is all very
disconcerting.”

“You know why that
is, don’t you?”

He tips his head
pensively.

“It’s because it’s
human nature and, because you’re not human, you don’t know how to harness it!
This is what veneration feels like; what real love feels like.” I take his face
in my hands. “Don’t stop feeling it, just enjoy it. It’s not meant to be
agonising.”

He adjusts my
position so I am straddling him. “How wise you are, Beth.”

He’s got it all
wrong. “It’s not about wisdom. It’s about trust. I know what my husband feels
for me. I feel the same way. We’re two halves of one soul destined to be
together in every sense of the word. It’s like a cosmic union and not even
death will part us.” I take a breath, stunned by the clarity of my declaration.
“Maybe we should prepare for our flight?” I attempt to twist my body away.

“Oh no, not so fast,
missy. I’m experienced enough to know your husband would not let this moment
pass.” He begins to unbutton my dress with steady hands. “If you think I’m
going to let you evade me, you are very much mistaken.”