Nathan’s voice is gentle as he tries to reassure her, but of course, there are no guarantees. Not yet at least. “I hope so, love. I’m going to try my very best to persuade her.”
The clatter of footsteps along the hallway announces the arrival of Tom and Grace. Tom strolls into the kitchen, smiles at me and drops a quick kiss on the top of my head. “Thanks for helping out, love. Nice burger, sprout?” He ruffles Rosie’s hair as she turns to him, her tears forgotten and her eyes now sparkling with excitement again.
“I had chicken nuggets. But Tom, Tom, we’ve got a baby. Me and Daddy. And Eva. Eva’s upstairs. She’s called Isabella and she’s my sister.”
Tom smiles back at her. “Yeah, so I hear. You gonna help look after her then? That’s what big sisters do.”
“Yes. I’ll help. I can brush her hair and read books to her. And show her where the tadpoles are, and…” She stops, more than certainly to think what else might need to go in her job description while Nathan smiles down at both his daughters. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man look more delighted with life. Or more torn.
Tom shakes his head, clearly impressed at this display of sisterly diligence. “Sounds like you’ll be busy, sprout. I hope you’ll still have time to come and help me with the baby piglets from time to time.” He turns to Nathan. “Looks like you’ve picked up the core skills pretty quick. Anyway, the cot’s assembled and on the landing, not sure which room you want it in so…”
“No problem. Thanks, mate, I appreciate what you’ve done today.”
“Any time, my friend. Any time.” And, turning to me, “So, gorgeous, can you give me a lift home then? When you’ve finished your coffee—no rush.”
* * * *
Twenty minutes later we’re cruising along the lane headed for Greystones, and I’ve had the rest of the tale from Tom. It seems they finished their meetings in Preston earlier than they expected and were headed back to Black Combe in Nathan’s Porsche. They were almost home when a Mini—Eva’s car—came swerving around the bend in the road, just before the turnoff up to Black Combe. Nathan swerved to avoid hitting it, and Eva lost control of her car. Next thing she was upside down in the tarn and sinking under about eight feet of water. As the Mini had shot past them Tom had seen Eva at the wheel, although he thought Nathan had recognized the car before, as soon as it had appeared. According to Tom, Nathan had more or less stood the Porsche on its nose, and he was out of his car and into the water after her like a man possessed. Luckily he’s a good swimmer, a scuba diver in fact, and he was able to get down there and get her out of the car in time. A few seconds later, and I doubt she’d have made it. It was a close thing, but she’s alive, and apparently sleeping it all off in Nathan’s bed. But the really odd thing is the baby wasn’t in the car with her. She’d apparently already been up to Black Combe and had just left Isabella with Grace, announced she was Nathan’s baby and that he could have her. Next thing she’s hurtling down the road, taking corners too fast and driving into the lake.
“It all sounds really odd. She just left her baby behind?” Given my history that’s especially difficult for me to understand, but who am I to judge?
“Yeah, that’s what Grace said. And that she was very, very upset. Distraught is how Grace describes it and she thinks Eva might have, well, that she might have done it deliberately. Tried to kill herself.”
I turn to him, dismayed. Not good, so not good. “Shit. What does Nathan think?”
“His gut reaction’s that it was an accident. Mine too, if I’m honest. She looked to me, in that split second as her Mini skidded past us, like she was trying to stop, trying to brake. She was just going too bloody fast, but I don’t think she intended to end up in the lake. He’ll talk to her though, when she wakes up. See what she has to say.”
“Right.” Then, for the want of something more incisive, “Shit.”
* * * *
It
was
an accident. We all know that now. Eva was ill, totally pole-axed by post-natal depression. She’d struggled since Isabella had been a few days old, and had come back to Nathan in sheer desperation. She needed help, and she found it at Black Combe. A bit like I did, I suppose.
Eva’s a couple of years older than me, and we have absolutely nothing in common, apart from our fatal attraction to Dominant men perhaps. In fact, she’s the sort of girl I always avoided at school. The brainy types, the ones who did their homework, got awarded achievement prizes at Speech Day and never got detentions. Those girls always intimidated me, if I’m honest, and when I learnt that Eva’s a doctor of something not medical, speaks about twenty different languages, has degrees in music, maths, languages, and God knows what else, I just wanted to crawl under a stone. No way was dull, ordinary little Ashley McAllister ever going to be able to compare to that glittering career, that litany of achievements. Or so I thought. Then Eva turned out to be nice, and that confused me. She
is
clever, a gifted musician. But just plain nice too. And she’s just as shy as me, just as unsure of herself, and of her welcome here.
So, I’ve put my prejudices to one side and we’ve become friends. She likes my pictures, I like to listen to her play the violin. But then, who wouldn’t?
The first time I met Eva, actually met her, she’d been back at Black Combe for about three weeks. For the first two weeks she never came out of her—their—bedroom as far as I could tell. I continued to call at Black Combe most mornings to collect Barney on my way up onto the moors, but she was never in evidence. I knew from Rosie’s chatter and occasional comments from Tom that she was around, keeping a low profile, and never going anywhere near the baby if she could help it.
Then one morning I let myself into the kitchen at Black Combe and there she was, just her, seated at the kitchen table. She had a mug of coffee in front of her and looked to have just got up. Her feet were bare, her hair still tangled from bed. I recognized the shirt she was wearing as one of Nathan’s, her long, bare legs crossed under the table. And there was no sign of Barney.
She looked up, seemed unsurprised to see me waltzing into her kitchen. “Morning. Coffee?” She smiled at me, jerked her head in the direction of the coffee pot. “I just brewed some, thought you might be turning up sometime soon.”
So she was apparently expecting me then. And seemed inclined to be sociable. Intimidated or not, I don’t have enough friends to turn down an opportunity so I nodded, muttered my thanks, and went to help myself.
Sitting opposite Eva in the kitchen at Black Combe, I found I had absolutely nothing to say to her. What does a convicted liar and self-confessed thief find to say to an accomplished academic, a respected musician? And Eva seemed to be in no rush to make small talk, having apparently done her social duty by making the coffee. At a bit of a loss I decided to fall back on the sole topic of conversation I could come up with.
“So, I understand you’ve been ill. How are you feeling now?”
She looked at me, her face giving nothing much away. Then, “Ill? Is that what you call it? Not suicidal? Mentally unstable? A crap mother?”
I regarded her, long and hard. If she wanted to pick a fight, why bother making me coffee? And I decided not to rise to it. I may not have her brains, but I’m definitely not stupid. Falling out with Nathan’s beloved Eva would not be a good move, not for me, not for any of us. I decided to make an effort.
“No, I call it ill. And the fact that you’re down here rather than huddled up in bed suggests to me you’re getting better, and I’m glad about that. And I was here that day, when you first got back. I know what happened, and I know it was an accident.”
She shakes her head, her lips quirked in a wry, self-effacing smile. “An accident waiting to happen.”
I shrug. “Whatever, but they all count.” And I decided that was enough socializing for one day. “Thanks for the coffee. Is Barney anywhere about?”
“He’s upstairs. In the shower.” She smiles at my astonished expression. “It seems he went out and rolled in something particularly vile and Grace refused to let him back in the house until he’d been swilled down. She dragged him off upstairs. It’s gonna take a whole crate of Head and Shoulders to wash that bloody dog…”
I can’t imagine shampooing Barney is easy. “Can Grace manage, do you think?” Any excuse to get out of there.
No help to be had from Eva, it seems. “I expect so. My mum’s up there too. I think they’ve got it covered. They left me in charge down here. All part of the great plan to make me feel useful. It’s not working.”
At my puzzled look, she jerked her head in the direction of the corner behind me. I turned, to see baby Isabella tucked up nice and secure in her baby seat, fast asleep. I smiled, couldn’t help it. She’s so sweet. I turned back to Eva, resolved to maybe stay a little bit longer. “Can I pick her up? I’ll try not to wake her. Please.”
She waved expansively in the direction of the baby. “Be my guest. She’s due a feed any time now in any case. Tell you what, I’ll make the bottle, and you give it to her.”
And so, that’s how we came that morning to be sitting companionably in the kitchen at Black Combe, me feeding a very appreciative Isabella her bottle while Eva quizzed me about Tom.
“So, you and Tom then? I’m glad he’s found someone. He’s a lovely man, always kind to me.”
I nodded. I think Tom’s probably kind to everyone. Hell, he was even kind to me, eventually. These days he’s especially personable when he has a whip in his hand, but I didn’t see any reason to dwell on that. But Eva was on a quest, wanted more. “So how did you and Tom meet then?”
Ah, now that
was
the six million dollar question. And quite suddenly, there and then, and bearing in mind I’d never clapped eyes on this woman before in my life, I told her. The full story, about that awful night in Bristol and about me turning up here quite by chance. I didn’t tell her about Tom’s reaction when he first saw me, when he recognized me and decided I needed to be taught some sort of a lesson—I think maybe that’s a tale for another day. Eva listened to me, never commented, never turned a hair. Her only response was to observe what a small world it is, and I found myself compelled to agree.
We fell silent for a while, both of us I’m sure wondering if, how, to broach the issue uppermost in our minds. I know that Nathan’s a Dom too, and from what Tom told me I’m pretty sure Eva’s his sub. But it’s not exactly the sort of thing you can come right out and ask. Or is it? Eva seemed to think it was worth a try. She may have been somewhat taciturn when I’d first arrived in her kitchen, but she was positively garrulous now and certainly prepared to have a go.
“Yes, Tom’s a nice guy. Very good looking too, in a sort of Adonis way.”
“Adonis?”
“Mmm, Greek god of beauty and desire.”
“Ah, right.”
Yes, definitely sounds about right to me.
“And sort of—masterful. Dominating. Don’t you think so?”
She cocked her head to one side, looked at me expectantly. I returned her gaze, steady, serious—before I lost it and collapsed into laughter. Even Isabella was moved to complain as the flow of her milk was rudely interrupted by my helpless giggling. Eva joined in, and it was clear we had a perfect understanding.
At last, able to speak again, I responded politely, “Yes, very Dominant. I have on occasions had the scars to prove it, though they don’t usually last very long.”
Eva just nodded wisely, she is after all my senior by nearly two years. “I find arnica helpful. Probably best to buy in some extra, just give me a shout if you want some.”
I thanked her politely. We both smiled and reached an understanding.
So now, Eva and I are firm friends. She’s always around as I collect Barney, we often share a morning coffee together. And occasionally she comes out with me, Rosie and Barney, up onto the moors. Never too far, or for too long. She’s not well still, gets tired easily. But I enjoy her company, and oddly enough she seems to like mine. We laugh a lot, mostly about Tom and Nathan. I’m not sure if subs are supposed to discuss their Doms and compare notes. Neither is Eva, but we do it. All the time. She’s been back about six seeks now, and is clearly staying. Rosie’s over the moon, Nathan’s a different man too. And I just love having a friend.
Chapter Two
“Are you out and about today?” Tom glances at me across the breakfast table, his marmalade toast dangling from his fingers. I smile, remembering just where those sticky fingers were half an hour ago. I do enjoy mornings at Greystones, and surely there can be no more civilized way to greet the day than with a mind-blowing orgasm. Still, back to the business in hand.
“Yes, later probably. Depends a bit on the light quality. I’m after getting some nice smudgy horizon shots, so a bit of heat haze would be useful. What’s the weather forecast, do you know?”
He shoves the last of his toast in his mouth and chews it before answering, “Of course I know. I’m a bloody farmer, it’s my job to know. You should be all right—dry, sunny, temperatures reaching twenty-two centigrade. Will that do you?”
I nod then go to put more bread in the toaster. I’m quite proud of my prowess with toast these days, it’s really very simple when you know how.
“I shot a fox earlier. Saw it sniffing around the outside of the poultry run first thing. I definitely hit it because there was blood on the wall where it scrambled over, but the crafty little bugger got away. I don’t like leaving a job unfinished, so if you happen to spot it could you text me and let me know where it is?”
I turn to him, and I confess I’m a little shocked at his callous attitude. I know foxes are pests, but still… He sees my expression and stands up, comes to give me a hug.
“Don’t go getting all sentimental, love. You’d soon lose your fondness for foxes if you saw the state of a poultry shed after one had been visiting. Blood and carnage everywhere. They’re a menace around farms.”
I shake my head. “But even so, can’t you…? I mean, you’re supposed to be humane aren’t you?”
“Indeed I am. And I’m also a farmer with a living to make. I’d prefer to have killed it cleanly, though, so if you do spot it anywhere let me know and I’ll finish the job. Okay?”