Authors: Melissa Delport
As soon as we enter the apartment I head straight for my laptop, scouring the internet until I find what I am looking for. I book two tickets to Dublin departing tomorrow, and I book us a week’s stay in what appears to be a charming Guest House. I'm not sure why I chose Ireland. Maybe it's morbid curiosity, perhaps it's just that I know it will be easier to convince Adam if he has the added lure of finding out more about his origins. Either way, I have absolutely no intention of letting Adam discover the truth in Ireland, but I have every intention of getting him as far away from Lizzy and Carl Sheldon as I can.
I take a much-needed shower leaving Adam watching the game in the lounge. The sky is dark and gloomy but without a drop of rain and I resent the symbolism.
Something else that I love that is just out of reach. The shower jets revive me but, as I get out of the cubicle, water dripping onto the sodden mat, I catch a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror. I look pale and tired. There are dark circles under my eyes and my eyes look hollow and empty. I grab my make-up bag defiantly and slap on some foundation. Better. I add bronzer and a touch of blush, and then I think, why the hell not, and I apply full war-paint, outlining my big brown eyes in black eyeliner, making them appear enormous. Two layers of mascara finish off the look. I add a dark, glossy lipstick the color of crushed berries for good measure, and pull a comb through my tangled hair.
I stare at my reflection feeling an angry rage burning in the pit of my stomach and spreading through my entire body. I am angry at the world, angry at this life and the unfairness of it all. I am done being nice; I am done being the victim. I will not lose the thing I love most in this world, not again. The sexy siren who stares back at me in the mirror raises her ruby lips in a knowing smile and I give a burst of hysterical laughter, wondering if perhaps I am the one with the hidden persona. I flick off the light as I leave the bathroom, not caring that my clothes are littering the floor and my make-up is scattered all over the dresser.
In the bedroom I rummage through my closet in frustration, searching for the perfect outfit to suit my dark reckless mood. At the back I discover a little black dress with a high neck at the front and a back so plunging that even the tiny black scrap of lace underwear I am wearing peeks out cheekily. I do not bother with a bra, my craving for Adam is growing with each second. I slip my feet into a pair of three-inch heels and I head straight for the lounge, my blood coursing through my body.
Adam does a double-take when I walk into the lounge, a low wolf-whistle emanating from deep in his chest.
“And now?” he asks, his eyes roving my body unashamedly. “Are we going somewhere?”
“Ireland,” I announce, and his eyes widen in surprise. “Tomorrow,” I continue, still advancing on him, feeling desirable and predatory. “But tonight,” I lift the glass of wine that he has poured for me from the table and bring it slowly to my lips, breathing in the aroma and feeling more alive than I have in weeks, “tonight you're not going anywhere,” I murmur huskily. I come to a stop as my legs touch his knees. He gazes up at me hungrily, his eyes dark and passionate. I take another swallow of the wine feeling it warming my body from the inside. My skin is tingling all over. I want him to touch me so badly that it hurts. Adam leans forward and I hold my breath in expectation, but he leans deliberately around me and picks up his own glass, bringing it to his mouth, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
“What did you have in mind?” he asks deliberately casual, leaning back on the couch.
I don’t say anything. I simply set my glass down on the table beside him and untie the satin ribbon from behind my head. The soft satin dress slithers down my body like a caress and I feel my nipples harden with desire. The dress pools at my feet and I kick it aside with one heel. Adam cannot hide the swift intake of breath as he takes in my black lace underwear and my naked body, the
color of caramel. My body is aching and I shiver in anticipation. The apartment is warm; Adam must have turned the heating on. Feeling very empowered, I lift my stiletto-clad foot and place it on his knee, raising my eyebrow in an obvious challenge. Adam gazes hungrily at my bare leg, and then, infinitely slowly, he raises his hand and touches my foot with one finger. I feel a jolt of lust but I meet his gaze steadily, daring him to go further. He runs his finger up my leg, over my knee and up my thigh, and I cannot help myself, I let out a low groan of desire. Adam smiles up at me through eyes that are heavy-lidded with lust and then he grabs my hips in his strong hands, jerking my body forward and burying his face in my groin. In an instant the mood changes from seductive to frenzied and I grab fistfuls of his hair, pulling his head even closer, my body on fire. Adam pulls his head back and, sliding both his hands up the back of my legs, he cups my buttocks, squeezing my flesh. He sits forward on the chair, his tongue tracing lazy circles on my bare stomach and I tilt my head back, my long dark hair cascading down my back.
“Adam!” I pant, my eyes glazed with desire. I have a physical need that is almost painful and only Adam can satisfy it.
He stands suddenly, releasing me, and I stumble backward in confusion. His arm shoots out to steady me and he takes my hand, jerking me forwards and then spinning me around so that I am standing with my back to him. He pulls me against his body aggressively and I lean back against him, wishing I could melt into his very skin. He bends his head and nips my earlobe and my knees go weak. If it weren’t for his strong arms around me, I think I would probably collapse in a heap at his feet.
“What do you want, Paige?” he whispers thickly in my ear and I have to swallow before I can answer him, my throat is so dry with longing.
“You,” I whisper and he jerks me against him. I can feel the hardness of him behind me and I moan, moving my head from side to side.
“I can’t hear you, Paige,” he coaxes, his hands moving slowly up and down my quivering body. I feel as though I might explode.
There is no-one else on earth who could make me feel this way. No-one else I would rather die than be without. This is what I am fighting for. Adam is not a figment of someone else’s sick imagination, he is a man – flesh and blood and heat and he belongs to me. I give a primal growl of possession and twist around to face him, a predatory smile on my face.
“I said,” I speak clearly and with purpose, stepping quickly forward to nip his lip with my teeth before I lean back and meet his surprised gaze, “I - want - you.”
Passion flares once more in his eyes and I push him forcefully back onto the sofa. Without a moment’s hesitation I step forward and up onto the sofa, placing one foot on each side of Adam, then I drop to my knees so I am straddling him. It is like setting a match to kindling and passion explodes between us. Adam’s mouth, tongue and teeth kiss, nip and sear my naked skin and our breathing becomes more and more gasping. Adam flings me off him, leaving me lying on the couch, my hand over my chest, as he unzips his jeans and drops them at his feet. It is only a moment that he is gone but I feel cold and empty in that short space of time. And then he is back and our bodies are pressing and pounding against each other; it is rough and the most unbearable, beautiful pain I have ever experienced. I cry out as my body finally reaches its peak, shuddering, over and over again, and Adam’s gorgeous face moving above me is the single most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
By the time we board the plane the next day my body is feeling slightly battered and bruised but absolutely sated, and I have had three missed calls from Bill Morris and two from Doctor Sheldon.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Adam gestures at the ringing phone but I turn it on silent and smile up at him.
“Nope.
No intrusions, no distractions.” I rise up onto my toes and plant a kiss on his mouth, not caring who is watching. “We're on holiday Mr Parker.”
The flight is seven hours and by the time we arrive in Dublin I am exhausted. It is raining, which is not in itself a surprise; Ireland is known for its year-round rain, but February is known as the driest month of the year. The temperature is similar to what we left behind in Manhattan and I am grateful for my coat.
We hire a car and it only takes us 40 minutes to reach the quaint Guest House. Ireland is breathtaking. The unspoiled countryside and the beauty of the rolling hills and glistening lakes takes my breath away. I can sense that Adam, beside me, is taking everything in and I wonder what he must be thinking. For the first time I wonder if this was a good idea. I want to get away from the truth and yet here we are, right where it all began.
No!
I push the thought aside. I knew getting Adam here would be the easiest way out of the States but I have no intention of letting him discover my awful secret.
“It’s so beautiful,” I murmur and he smiles at me in that secret way of his.
“This was a great idea, Miss Petrova.”
“I’m full of them,” I reply boastfully.
Mr and Mrs O’Reilly, who own and operate O’Reilly’s Guest House, are friendly and fun and are everything I had expected. Both red-haired and green-eyed, in their mid-50s, they are jovial and funny and they keep us entertained throughout dinner. We are the only guests until the weekend and they welcome us in true Irish tradition. We are soon sitting around a fire in the main house, drinking Guinness, and being plied with Irish Stew which is delicious. I draw the line at black pudding, but Adam, embracing his newly discovered Irish heritage, braves his way through an enormous helping.
Adam and Mr O’Reilly are soon waxing lyrical over all things Irish and I smile behind my glass feeling ridiculously content.
“That’s Arthur Guinness talking,” Shannon O’Reilly stage whispers to me and Mr O’Reilly’s head comes up, eyeing us narrowly. “You must excuse Conor, he’s a bit of a lush,” she continues, a twinkle in her green eyes.
“Lay off woman!” he addresses his wife, winking at me. “I’m just living...”
“The life of Reilly... yea, yea...” she finishes his sentence fondly. “That’s his favorite saying,” she explains to me, “although, God alone knows what he would have said if we were called the Durkins.” She gives a tinkling laugh and we all join in.
Adam and I are staying in a delightful cottage only a short way from the main house. After all the food and drink I am feeling full and very sleepy and I head out to the cottage, looking forward to resting my head on the fluffy white feather pillows. Adam lets me go on
ahead, he is being very cloak-and-dagger and wants to speak with our hosts in private. I smile sleepily at him; I know Adam, he is no doubt planning on surprising me with some sight-seeing tomorrow.
“Don’t be too long,” I call, as I make my way down the moss-covered pathway.
Once in the cottage I do not even have the energy for a shower and I pull on my PJs, slip between the covers and heave a sigh of contentment as I close my eyes hoping Adam will not be too long.
I wake in the morning to the sounds of Adam taking a shower. Feeling ridiculously at peace I take off my pyjamas and slip into the bathroom. Seeing Adam’s lean, bronzed body through the frosted glass is too much for me and, without so much as a second thought, I open the door and step in beside him.
“Good morning beautiful,” he croons and I smile lazily as he soaps up the sponge.
“May I have the honour?” he asks, his brow
raised, holding the sponge up and out of the deluge.
“Absolutely,” I murmur, stepping forward and letting the hot water rain down on me. His lips meet mine and the sponge drops to the floor, forgotten.
Half an hour later, dressed and holding hands, we make our way back down the path toward the main house. I can smell the bacon from here and I laugh up at Adam.
“I am going to get so fat here,” I moan and Adam ruffles my hair. His sky-blue sweater brings out the light in his eyes. He is ridiculously good-looking I think to myself, wondering how on earth I was lucky enough to be the one that he picked. No sooner has the thought crossed my mind than I feel a pang of guilt. You weren’t, a small voice in my head reminds me and I see a beautiful blonde-haired, blue-eyed, angelic face in my mind.
Lizzy. He actually chose Lizzy. I brush the thought aside, pushing back the guilt and I lean into Adam, letting his warmth and his strength ease my conscience.
When we enter the kitchen Mr and Mrs O’Reilly beam at the two of us, but I cannot miss the secret look that passes between Adam and Mrs O’Reilly.
Looking between them, I frown.
“Am I missing something?” I ask and Mrs O’Reilly waves her dishcloth at me.
“Pah! Nothing child, don’t be ridiculous. Now come and sit down and have some brekkie, you need some fattening up. Skin and bone, ye are.”
“I told you!” I whisper to Adam as we enter the dining-room and he chuckles, pulling back a chair for me.
After breakfast, feeling about 20 pounds heavier, we make our way into the garden.
“What would you like to do today?” He asks, and I shrug, feeling relaxed and content.
“Let’s do some sightseeing,” he suggests.
We say goodbye to our hosts, and set off in our hire car, towards the beach. The day is mild, and as we walk along the sandy strip, I close my eyes, picturing in my head that we are back in California, walking along Long Beach. It is such a simple, normal image, what every girl wants, to be with the man that she loves, why does it have to be impossible for me.
We walk down to the shore, letting the icy water gush over our feet. Adam spots a lone canoeist out at sea and he raises his eyebrows questioningly.
“Not today,” I smile sadly, and a frown crosses over his face. It is not like me to miss the opportunity to do something fun. I sigh softly, wishing I could
explain, that I could share reason for my sadness.
We spend most of the day at the beach, enjoying the sun and the sand. By the time we reach the car, my hair is a windswept mess and Adam laughs at my feeble attempts to untangle it using my fingers. Back in the Guest House garden, we stop and take a moment to just enjoy the scenery. It is so beautiful; a green oasis surrounded by a low stone wall. The grass is so soft and so thick it looks like a carpet. I swing around, my arms out, laughing as I did when I was a child. Stopping, I find Adam is regarding me fondly, love shining in his eyes.
“Let’s stay forever,” I say, wishing that we could.
“Paige,” his face is suddenly serious and, as he approaches, my heart lurches in my chest not knowing what to expect. I don’t say a word, not releasing the breath I am holding until he reaches me and his arms come around me. I gaze up at him, wonderingly.
“Paige,” he begins again, sounding slightly unsure of himself, “you're everything I want in this life,” he continues and I smile in relief. “You're the only person I've ever loved, the only person I'll ever love. You've stood beside me through the most unimaginable, stressful time in my life and you've never faltered. Without you I'd be lost,” his voice breaks and I reflect on the journey that has brought us here, seeing it through his eyes, believing that it is almost over.
Looking back, I should have seen it coming, but, as it was, I was so distracted by the fear of the secret that I was keeping that he took me by complete surprise with his next words.
“I want to marry you Paige. Here; now; in Ireland.”
I am so shocked that I take an involuntarily step backward. Adam looks so hurt and so fearful of rejection that I immediately step closer to him and take his hand, reassuringly, but before I can speak he does.
“I know it’s sudden and I’m sure you want your family with you, but I just think that this,” he gestures at the garden with a sweep of his arm, “this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I’ve spoken to the O’Reilly’s; they’ve had loads of weddings here; they can arrange the whole thing.” He smiles down at me, “All you have to do is get yourself a dress?” He lets the question hang and I consider my options.
How can I possibly marry a man against his will? Simon hates me. This would be the lowest, most dreadful thing I could do to him. It takes away his free will. But Simon isn’t here. Adam is here. Adam is the one who is asking me this beautiful question and looking down at me with all the love in the world reflecting in his eyes. And I can’t tell him the truth. I can’t lose him. I think of the new, ever-increasingly frantic messages from Carl Sheldon that have been coming through on my phone, messages that I am hiding from Adam.
I think of my father and what he would think, what advice he would give me and I can almost hear his voice in my head, “Tell the truth, Paige.” I think of Kevin, of how much he loved me and yet his voice joins my father's, “Tell the truth, Paige.” I think of my mother and the earful she would give me if she knew what I was considering.
No
! I force them all from my mind and I focus only on what is right in front of me. I think of Adam, of our journey and our past, of the future that we could have together. Why is what I want so very, very wrong? It’s like the universe is plotting against me, like nothing I want or need matters. I feel like I am living in some higher power’s idea of a sick, sick joke. I shake my head sadly, knowing that what I am about to do, what I have to do, will alter the course of our lives forever, and unwillingly, a tear tracks its way down my cheek. Adam cradles my face in his strong hands, his thumb wiping it away, his eyes searching mine for the cause of my despair.
“Paige?” he asks,
panic marring his features, and I clear my throat, nodding my head determinedly and lifting my face to meet his.
“Yes, Adam,” I murmur, shutting my eyes and clearing my head of all the reasons why I should not be doing this. “Of course I’ll marry you.”