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‘“And then” involves me thinking up new and creative ways to keep you distracted from your own thoughts for a very, very long time.’ He lowered his head again and this time let his lips linger against hers. ‘So long that by the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be passed out cold.’
He kissed her a third time, the press firmer. His tongue playing along the seam of her lips in a velvety caress that had her opening to him. The arms holding her tightened, pulling her flush up against his body as he deepened the kiss, claiming her mouth with yearning hunger.
And Annabel was lost. She couldn’t fight the desire he roused in her, even if she wanted to. She raised her hands and sank them into the cool, silky strands of his hair. Worn slightly too long and slightly too tousled, the style hid the fine six-inch line of scar tissue that curved down over his scalp a little behind his ear. Her fingers found it now, that permanent mark of the lifesaving operation he’d had following the stroke she’d learned he’d suffered only a few years back.
With his body pressed against hers, so warm, so vital, so straight and strong, it was hard to imagine that he’d been so ill, paralysed and helpless, his muscles wasting as he lay confined to a bed. The only physical evidence that remained of such a traumatic event was the scar and the slightly lopsided smile that had never righted itself.
That he was here today as he was proved that Aidan Flynn was a fighter. A self-professed dirty one at times, but nevertheless a fighter who was offering to help battle her nightmares with her.
With all that on offer, quite frankly, the argument could wait until morning.
‘Take me to bed, then,’ she murmured against his lips.
He did. And it wasn’t until a long, long time later that they found out whether his plan worked.
Annabel managed a solid four hours of exhausted sleep before the terror of another nightmare woke them both.
Chapter Six (#ulink_a6fc08ad-d79e-545c-8fe6-eca0a2f48063)
Good luck.
Annabel read the text message that came through from Aidan. Even though he was busy in Ireland he apparently could still find time to remember, almost to the very minute, her appointment today.
His thoughtfulness made something warm and cosy unfurl within her chest; a sensation that felt much scarier than it sounded, especially as it seemed to be happening more and more often, and there was no way for her to control or protect herself from it.
Thanks, she sent in reply before switching the phone to silent and sliding it back into the bag sitting on her lap. Clasping her hands together atop the leather, she aimed her gaze at the framed print of a generic pastel landscape on the wall opposite. This wasn’t the time or place to let thoughts of Aidan Flynn unsettle her nerves.
Because, much to her own surprise, this was the second time in as many weeks she’d found herself waiting in the carefully decorated blandness of her local Victim Support offices. Following the sneaky ambush Aidan had sprung on the night he’d come to pick her up from her flat, she’d known that neither he nor her mother would give up on the subject of getting the help they thought she needed for her nightmares. She’d figured the easiest way to get them off her back, or to stop them going behind it and setting up something themselves, was to agree to make an appointment.
By taking the initiative, at least she got to stay in charge and make the choices that seemed right for herself. And, after weighing up various options, she’d decided that the Victim Support service sounded most suited to her needs, not least because the terminology they used sounded so normal. There was no counselling this, or therapist that, no sessions, nothing to imply that she was in any way mentally weak or unstable. There were just nice, straightforward-sounding visits with volunteers.
Aidan had insisted on delivering her here for her first visit, which she found pretty hypocritical of him considering the way he went on about her supposed issues with trust. But again, for the sake of getting this whole unnecessary exercise over and done with as quickly and easily as possible, she’d decided to go along with it, even though it had meant cutting off any chance she’d had of ducking out. She’d figured she’d only need to get through an hour, after all, to satisfy everyone’s concern. After that she’d insist that one session was enough and she could regain control of her life. And not a moment too soon. It seemed she was doing a lot of giving in to other people’s demands, all of a sudden.
In the event, giving into this particular demand had turned out nowhere near as bad as she’d feared. She’d been introduced to Susan, a friendly, practical woman of around her own age whose fashion sense ran to smart urban without a string of hippy beads or pair of woven hemp sandals in sight. Thankfully, there’d been none of the touchy-feely New Age jargon she’d been dreading either.
Nevertheless, walking into the meeting room she’d been as uncomfortable as she’d ever been. No doubt sensing Annabel’s initial reticence from her stiff, monosyllabic answers, Susan had allowed her time to unbend by turning the spotlight on herself. Filling what would otherwise have been a series of awkward silences with a little of her own background, she’d explained that she was also a survivor of an assault, who’d been inspired to become a volunteer after the help she’d received from the service.
Annabel had been surprised enough by Susan’s candid manner to forget about her own self-consciousness long enough to start talking. And once she’d started, it turned out she had quite a bit to say. Verbalising the events of the attack hadn’t caused anywhere near as much upset or panic as she’d envisaged. In fact, taking the time to inspect the half-hazy memories in order to lay them out in sequence actually helped her view them more calmly, feel more in control. That’s why, when her hour had ended before she’d known it and Susan had asked whether she’d like to make another appointment, she’d agreed to come back.
It had all been surprisingly easy. As was her budding ‘go slow’ relationship with Aidan, despite all his overbearing tendencies. A part of her at least was beginning to recognise that he did things because he cared, and an even smaller part was beginning to learn to grudgingly accept that. Used as she was to being alone, it wasn’t always easy, but, with Aidan’s unique brand of ruthless patience, she felt she might eventually get there.
Between her work commitments and Aidan’s numerous trips to Ireland, they’d found the opportunity to squeeze in a few more dates over the past couple of weeks. They’d ticked the boxes marked ‘dinner’ and ‘show’ and had even been ice-skating. And the week after next, to coincide with her scheduled double day off work and Aidan’s return from his latest trip to Ireland, they were graduating to a night away.
‘Annabel?’ At the sound of her name she looked up to see Susan making her way across the waiting room with a warm smile. ‘Lovely to see you again. Would you like to come through?’
Noting the short, printed skirt teamed with a great-fitting cashmere sweater and knee-high black suede boots, all of which reaffirmed her first impression of young, fashionable, normal, Annabel felt the nervousness she’d been trying to ignore suddenly ease. She stood and shook the proffered hand. She could do this.
* * *
A fortnight later, Annabel and Aidan set out from London in weather that, for a late March morning, was glorious. An early spring sun shone down from a cloudless, powder-blue sky, lending an unseasonable warmth to the air.
With the heat of that sun on her shoulders, and the wind tugging at the ends of her braided hair, Annabel felt lighter, happier than she could remember being in … well, in far too long.
It wasn’t only the bright weather lifting her spirits, she knew. It was also the bike that surged powerfully beneath her, the sense of freedom and excitement the sleek black and chrome Triumph Thunderbird inspired as it sped her away from her everyday life.
And, yes, being wrapped around the fine, leather-clad figure of Aidan Flynn definitely didn’t hurt. Closing her eyes against the outer-city scenery streaming by, she tightened her hold around his waist and nestled closer against his back, resting her helmeted head between the blades of his broad shoulders. With the world shut out, it was easy to feel every movement he made – each breath inflating his chest, every shift of weight pulling the flat planes of his stomach taut as he navigated skilfully through the mid-morning traffic with a natural confidence that left her feeling relaxed, trusting. Not only was Aidan Flynn irresistibly sex-on-a-stick lickable, he was starting to feel … safe.
He was also a man of his word. Keeping to his promise of dating her properly, he’d arranged a night away in a luxury country-house spa hotel somewhere near the city of Bath. In honour of the occasion – a first for her – she’d bought a new dress and swimsuit, which were currently stowed with the rest of her gear in one of the bike’s panniers.
Joining the M4 motorway, they left London behind at speed. They stopped after about an hour for coffee and refuelled before resuming their journey on more scenic A and B roads.
It had been a while since she’d been outside the capital, and more than twenty years since she’d ventured so far to the South West. As much as she enjoyed the journey and sightseeing, she was so looking forward to being wined and dined and pampered that she found herself counting down the miles on the road signs they passed.
When they reached a major roundabout and continued past the first exit signposted to Bath, she guessed they were drawing near to their destination. However, when they merged onto a fast-moving A road heading north, and sped along it towards Gloucester, a new alertness started to seep into her carefree mood.
Where exactly were they headed? Thinking back on their discussions, she realised she had no idea of the specifics beyond Aidan’s vague mention of Bath and his more animated description of the innovative biodynamic kitchen garden the hotel used to supply the in-house restaurant, from which he hoped to garner some ideas for incorporating a similar scheme into his Tulaí venture.
But, whizzing along in the fast lane with the throttle open, she noted they were heading well away from Bath and showing no signs of slowing down. She felt a twinge of unease as the road signs on their new route began to feature names she recognised from a long time ago, names like Malmesbury and Stroud that told her they were heading north, towards the heart of the Cotswolds.
Surely, with the entire South of England countryside to choose from, he couldn’t have happened to choose the one area she never wanted to see again as long as she lived? An area filled with too many heartbreaking memories. What were the chances of that?
The slightly sick feeling of apprehension rising in her stomach told her she couldn’t take the risk of waiting to see. She needed to find out exactly where they were headed. But with little traffic to slow them down on the long stretches of country road, Aidan seemed lost in the pleasure of putting the bike through its paces, keeping their speed high enough to make communicating difficult.
Realising the danger of distracting him too suddenly, she tried to get his attention by squeezing him around his waist. After a couple of attempts, she felt their speed drop a little, felt Aidan shift as one of his gloved hands covered hers and squeezed back. Relief had barely begun to register before he leaned forward to grip the handlebars again and, with a renewed kick of power, the bike surged forward once more.
What? No. He’d misunderstood and now they were going even faster than before. She tried squeezing him a few more times, but the action was obviously failing to convey her urgency as they kept motoring along regardless. As the name Tetbury began to appear with increasing regularity her alertness grew into apprehension – that was a place that really was too close to the past for comfort.
Cautiously, she loosened one of her arms and tried to get Aidan’s attention by tapping him on the ribs.
Thank God that seemed to work. She felt the power throttle back and the bike begin to slow. Aidan’s hand covered hers again, giving a brief pat of acknowledgement. Ahead, she saw a crossroad junction and realised they were slowing their approach. Good, that would give her the opportunity to tell him to pull over, turn around. And not a moment too soon, she realised with a lurch of panic. With the signs ahead pointing left to Wootton-under-Edge and right to Tetbury, Annabel suddenly realised precisely where they were.
As they rolled to a slow speed, she began to loosen her hold around Aidan’s waist, prepared to flip up her visor to shout at him, or take the opportunity to dismount if necessary. But she found herself stopped by a sudden firm grip encasing her wrists, trapping them in place. Before she could even think to pull herself free, the grip was gone and the bike jumped forward again, throwing her off balance and leaving her instinctively to grab on tight.
Her heart leaped into her throat as she realised they were turning right. No. This couldn’t be happening. Panic took hold, desperate, helpless panic, as though she were racing head-on towards a cliff edge with no way to stop, no way to turn, no way to get off.
She fought the rising sense of light-headedness that had little to do with the sudden twists and turns of the narrow country lane as it wound through hedgerow-fringed fields and into the dappled shade of a small wood. Even before they rounded the final turn that would take them out of the trees, she knew what she’d find. The small roadside sign announcing that they were entering the village of Marton Chilbury, and just beyond that …
She thought about closing her eyes as they rode past, figuring that, if she didn’t look, she could pretend it wasn’t there. Yet when they rounded the bend, she found her eyes drawn to the exact spot she wanted to avoid. There, on the lefthand side of the road, where it had stood for hundreds of years, was an old thatched coaching inn. The place she’d once called home. The White Harte.
A cry of disbelief escaped her when she registered that Aidan was slowing the bike and pulling into the entrance of the carpark. She realised she’d been holding her breath for too long when her vision blurred and a rush of dizziness assaulted her, making her feel like she was going to throw up, or pass out. Or quite possibly both.
She tried to fill her lungs but within the close confines of her helmet she couldn’t seem to find enough air. What had happened to all the oxygen? She began to gasp, but that only made the dry, tight feeling in her chest grow worse.
She couldn’t breathe. She needed to get the helmet off or she was going to suffocate.
Barely waiting for the bike to stop, she jumped off, stumbling in her haste and nearly ending up flat on her face. Her knees felt too weak to hold her up so she let herself drop to them as she fought to pull the helmet off.
Her sense of panic increased as she realised it was stuck. Holding it tightly between her hands she tugged harder. It was only then she remembered the chinstrap. She tilted her head back, finding herself blinded by the sun shining on her visor, the rasping sound of her sobbing gasps filling the confined space as her gloved fingers, numb and clumsy, scrabbled to release the strap.
Then a shadow fell over her. Her hands were firmly grasped and lowered from their futile fumbling. An instant later the chinstrap was released and Annabel ripped off the helmet and sucked in huge sobbing gulps of air.
‘Take it easy, a mhuirnín. You’re going to hyperventilate.’
Aidan’s gentle, reasonable tone should have calmed her, but instead it infuriated her. Take it easy? He wasn’t the one who’d nearly suffocated, whose fingers and toes had gone numb and tingly through lack of oxygen. She dragged in another lungful and another and another.
‘Come on now. You’ll only make it worse.’ This time, his soothing murmur was accompanied by a stabilising hand that slid around her nape and exerted steady pressure downwards, pushing her head toward her knees. ‘Breathe.’
Couldn’t he tell that was what she was trying to do? Anger erupted through the panic. This was his fault anyway.
She pushed back against the pressure of the hand until she could glare at him where he crouched in front of her, his own helmet nowhere in sight. ‘Why the fuck did you ignore me? I wanted you to pull over miles ago,’ she bit out between gasps. ‘We need to turn around and go back. I can’t be here.’
He reached for her again. ‘Calm down –’
‘Don’t you dare!’ she shouted over him. ‘Don’t you dare tell me to calm down. We need to leave. Now.’ Staggering back to her feet, she grasped the helmet between her hands as she mustered every ounce of the courage she’d need to make herself put it back on, even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. ‘You’ve no idea what you’ve done here.’
Aidan also straightened. ‘I do know, Annabel. I know what this place is to you.’
Something icy-cold shot up the back of her neck, and her gaze flew up to his face. ‘What?’
‘I know this is where the photograph of you and your father was taken.’ Those grey eyes of his seemed even more intense than usual, focused unwaveringly on her. ‘The place you grew up. I brought you here for a reason.’
Annabel gaped at him for a frozen moment then the shock cracked open and she went for him, shoving the helmet at his chest with enough force to push him back half a step. ‘You bastard. How dare you?’ She shoved again, but this time he was braced and ready and simply rocked on the spot. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’
‘I’m not playing,’ he said, raising his hands to block the third shove aimed at his chest so that they both held the helmet gripped between them. ‘This is too important for it to be a game.’
‘Oh, please! Everything’s a game to you.’ Including her. This was why she needed to protect herself against him. He had no boundaries when it came to bulldozing his way into every corner of her being, exposing every part of her.
‘Not this. Believe me.’
‘Believe you?’ she stared at him with wide-eyed incredulity. ‘When all you do is pull dirty tricks?’
‘I’m not trying to trick you. I’m trying to help you.’
No. Any fool could see that he was trying to control and manipulate her. And she wasn’t a fool. ‘You want to help me?’ she snapped, tugging the helmet free from his grasp. ‘Great. The most helpful thing you can do is take me back to London.’
Spinning away, she spotted the bike standing nearby and stomped towards it. Pulling her helmet on, she found herself having trouble with the blasted chinstrap again. She needed to slow down a bit and concentrate, but honestly, she couldn’t believe the audacity of the man. To think he thought it acceptable to interfere …
Aidan was suddenly in front of her again, his fingers joining hers under her chin. But this time they seemed intent on hindering her efforts rather than helping. She pushed them away, and ducked to avoid his hands as they reached out to remove the helmet from her head. She wasn’t quite quick enough to stop his next move, which flipped her visor up.
‘We’re not going anywhere,’ he announced through the opening. ‘Not until we’ve sorted this.’
She stared at him. ‘I am not staying here! I can’t. You seriously thought trying to force me into coming here for the night was a good idea?’
‘We’re not staying here. It’s only a lunch stop, Annabel.’
That was supposed to make it any better? ‘Then let’s find somewhere else for lunch.’
Aidan started to shake his head.
‘Fine. I’ll call a cab.’ She removed the helmet and tossed it to him, then unzipped a pocket in the leather jacket and got out her phone. No bloody signal. Feeling Aidan’s gaze upon her every move, she shoved the useless device back in her pocket. ‘Or I’ll walk.’
As she strode off across the carpark towards the road, she was aware of him falling in beside her, his long legs making it easy for him to keep up, though he made no move to touch her or stop her.
‘Your reaction says that you do need to be here, Annabel. You need to face this.’
‘Don’t “shrink” me,’ she snapped, not turning, not breaking stride. ‘You’re trying to fix me. If I’m not good enough for you, you know what –’
‘You’re perfect for me,’ he interrupted. ‘The small part of you that you’re prepared to share, at any rate. So no, I’m not trying to fix you, I’m trying to get to know more about you. Understand you.’
‘And you think dragging me to a place I haven’t been in twenty years and raking over a past that has nothing to do with you is the best way to understand me?’ She gave him a look that matched the sarcasm in her tone. At the end of the driveway she turned and continued marching along the road in the direction from which they’d just come.
‘I think it’s a relevant place to start, at least,’ Aidan persevered, still keeping step with her. ‘What’s here that you can’t bear to face? Does it bring back such bad memories?’
Only the devastating memory of losing the only place in her life where she’d felt safe and happy and loved for who she was. ‘No.’
‘Then think about that for a moment. If that’s the case your reaction makes no sense. From what I can tell, things from your past still haunt you. You won’t be able to move on until you face whatever ghosts you carry. You can’t do that if you keep running from them.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. And even if you did, you certainly don’t get to make those sorts of decisions for me.’
‘Annabel, please. Trus–’
Sensing what was coming she swung on him. ‘If you dare say, “Trust me,” I will slap you!’
His black brows shot up at the threat, but his tone remained mild, perhaps a little amused, as he said, ‘I was going to say, “Trust yourself,” actually.’ Then the humour melted away to be replaced by sincerity. ‘That’s the only thing that really matters here,’ he said, the lyrical tones of his Irish accent softening to an alluring lilt. ‘Believe in yourself. You know you can do this.’
She stood there, breathing heavily, aware that he was trying to play her with charm – even more aware and perturbed to discover that there was a part of her that wanted to fall for it. Unsettled, she blurted somewhat petulantly, ‘Maybe I don’t want to do it.’
Pulling off a glove, Aidan took a step closer. He placed his bare fingertips on the side of her neck, resting them lightly over the spot where she could feel the racing gallop of her pulse.
‘There’s no “maybe” about it,’ he murmured with a crooked smile. ‘It’s perfectly obvious that you don’t want to.’
‘Then we’re in agreement for once. Let’s go.’ She turned and started walking again but Aidan caught her hand and pulled her off the road onto the wooded verge.
‘I’ll make a deal with you. If you can give one valid reason why you don’t want to do this, we’ll leave.’
Was irrational fear a valid reason? she wondered. Too bad if it was. She’d never admitted that kind of weakness to anyone before, and she wasn’t going to start now. Nor was there much point in trying to make something up, given Aidan’s uncanny ability to see through her deceptions. He was as astute as he was infuriating.
She tried to pull her hand free, but he only tightened his grip.
‘Come on, Annabel,’ he challenged. ‘What are you really afraid of?’
Since he’d come into her life? Too much, it seemed. She was afraid of him. Of herself. Of the past, the future. Afraid of her own bloody shadow. ‘Nothing. Everything. I don’t know!’ she shouted, exasperated.
He looked at her for a long moment – calm, cool, collected. ‘And that’s why I really think you should do it. Come on.’ He stepped back onto the road, and, using the hand he’d effortlessly kept hold of, towed her back towards the inn.
Chapter Seven (#ulink_6d952cda-4eb2-5643-ac44-852e5ca3a487)
Aidan watched Annabel’s every move carefully as, back in the carpark, he secured the bike and collected their helmets. After the way he’d shocked her, she’d be justified in bolting.
