Winter's End Part 12

"Honey," she replied. "That's the best idea my husband has come up with in a long time. You'd be crazy to pa.s.s it on. h.e.l.l, if I were you, I'd be crazy not to take it up."

They all broke out into laughter.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help overhearing," interrupted a voice. "But am I right in saying that the beautiful lady here was overwrought about not being able to return home tonight?"

"Ethan," said Emma. "Hi."

"We meet again," said Ethan, smiling.

Emma smiled back and introduced Ethan to her friends. "I'm having a kind of situation crisis," she explained to Ethan.

"I heard," he replied.

"I'm sorry," she blushed. "Were we too loud about it?"

"No," he said. "I just couldn't help taking my eyes off you the moment I saw you."

"You were deliberately eavesdropping!" she exclaimed in a giggle.

The women sighed, charmed by his suavity.

"Eavesdrop on me darling, any day," said Grace, mesmerised.

Ethan smiled and turned to Emma. "I could take you back to Breakish tonight if you want. But I'm also renting a cottage here in Dunvegan. You could always stay and I could take you back to Breakish tomorrow. I would love to show you that Fairy Flag we talked about earlier. But it's your call. I'm just going to be a gentleman and obediently follow whatever you decide."

Emma fl.u.s.tered, looked over at Lisa for some support.

"I'm sure Bill and Lisa here would love to continue with their romantic date," he said, noticing.

"It's your choice," said Lisa, a.s.suredly.

Emma grew quiet, weighing her now attractive option. She wanted to return home and no matter how much she wanted to say that she did, she felt it would be selfish of her to make such a request. She also was already feeling guilty of barging into Lisa's romantic evening with her husband which she knew Lisa often couldn't afford.

She looked up at Ethan. He was watching her patiently. She believed she could trust him, despite what Chris Cameron had said.

But before she could answer, she felt someone clutch her palm tightly as she was dragged through the dance hall.

She heard chairs grate the floor as the men at her table stood abruptly to confront her abductor. She heard Lisa's m.u.f.fled voice. She didn't understand what she said but she could guess what it was when she also heard Grace exclaim behind her. "That's her date?! Chris Cameron?!"

They exited the hall, entering the lobby of the hotel. She pulled her hand angrily away from him, almost tripping herself backwards as she did.

"I swear, you try dragging me one more time and I will hit you were it hurts," she shouted out, angrily.

"I told you to stay away from Ethan Wells," he said, his enraged eyes clas.h.i.+ng with hers.

"And why should I listen to you?" she said, straightening her dress. She forcibly lowered her voice, paying attention to the curious looks she was getting around her. They must be wondering she was such an unappreciative twit. She wished she could tell them who the real Chris Cameron was. "From what you have shown me, you're not quite credible either."

He glared at her, his inflamed eyes almost boring a hole into her soul.

She glared back at him stubbornly, holding her ground. Inside, she was trembling from the exhaustive emotions he had put her through in a single night.

But then he backed down silently and walked away to the reception. She watched the attendant hand him over a key card.

She stamped nervously, undecided to what she should do next. Half-embarra.s.sed from his behaviour, she tried to convince herself she shouldn't be. Maybe she should march back inside and take Ethan's offer. She hoped though there still was one.

"Well, are you coming?" said Chris.

Her heart lifted, hopefully. "You're going home?"

"No," he replied bluntly. "But I do have a room. It's big enough for the both of us."

"I am certainly not sharing a room with you," she said, firmly.

"But you are happy to share one with Ethan Wells," anger returning to his voice.

"He has a cottage. There's a difference."

"I don't care if he has reserved the entire Dunvegan Castle for the night," he said threateningly, edging closer. "You're not staying with him and you're certainly not taking that ride back home with him."

She grew quiet once more. How could he do this to her? He didn't want to be with her and she accepted it. She even had worked out her problems with Ethan Wells.

But there was also Ethel she needed to speak to. And she didn't want to jeopardise her friends.h.i.+p with her. Not after all these years when she almost felt like finally she had got her own grandmother back. And the children also loved her...

"I won't hear a no," he added, sternly. "Either you step into that elevator at your own free will or I carry you into it."

Emma gave him an incensed glance before marching through the elevator doors. She said a short silent prayer composed of vulgarities she would never normally mouth in the hope that she would not fulfil her urge to kill him tonight.

It wasn't an overtly small bedroom but it wasn't large either. It was certainly not luxurious. It was comprised of simple, basic amenities. Two arm chairs graced the ends of a large bay window which overlooked the dark ocean. A dresser stood at one end of the wall and the double bed took prime precedence in the middle of it.

"It's small," Emma uttered before she could prevent the words from escaping her lips.

"I'm sorry," Chris replied sarcastically. "Had I known earlier you had not booked yourself a room, I would have requested a larger one."

Her cheeks coloured. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. It's just that I didn't expect for you to have reserved such a humble room." She bit her lips. She was making a greater mess of her thoughts. She reminded herself to shut up. All she needed from this man was to help her get through the night.

"You think just because I'm a celebrity, I would be travelling with an entourage and spoiling myself with luxury."

"No, I never said that," she snapped.

"But you thought that," he said, his mouth drawn into a thin line.

He turned his back to her and took off his blazer, hanging it onto a wooden coat tree. He began pulling off his tee-s.h.i.+rt.

She stepped back, slightly bewildered. "What are you doing?"

"Taking my clothes off. I don't intend to go to bed fully dressed even if you do," he said. He pulled out his pants and headed to the shower as he did.

She heard him turn on the shower and flushed when she imagined the water running down his naked body. She hastily turned to her circ.u.mstances and reminded herself there were other pressing matters at hand. Like where they should sleep? How would she sleep? She looked down at her dress and wished for the first time since buying it, she had not worn something so revealing. She wished she had worn her old and comfortable dress pants instead. She searched the cupboards for a house coat but there was none. This wasn't a five star hotel, it was an inn, she grumbled to herself. All there was available was a large towel which she definitely could not wear to bed.

Bed? She studied the bed in deep thought wondering if Chris Cameron would demonstrate at least one gentlemanly conduct before the night ended. She promised herself that if he did, she would forgive him for all his arrogant, vile behaviour as well.

She heard him turn off the shower. He stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped at his waist. She turned away, embarra.s.sed, fiddling with the edges of the flat sheet on the bed.

"Well, aren't you going to bed?" he said curiously.

"Where are you sleeping?"

"That bed's made for two people. I'm certain we can both fit into it, if we try."

"I'm not sharing a bed with you," she said, firmly.

His eyes scanned the room. "I don't see where else you can sleep. But then that's your choice."

She began to fume. "What are you! You can't even offer your bed to a lady?"

Chris flung her an icy look filled with disdain and impatience. "Listen, woman, I got off a plane not too long ago only to be told by my grandmother that I had to escort you to a silly dance. I'm tired. And with that scowl you've been carrying, I'm exhausted. Frankly, I don't see what the big deal is about sharing a bed. I thought you had two kids. You can't be that naive. It's not like you're a friggin' virgin or something. Besides, I have no intention of seducing you even if I was ordered by the High Queen of Breakish, herself."

Emma, blinked, stunned and frozen with disbelief. She didn't know what she was more greatly offended with. That he was telling her to share a bed with her or he wouldn't seduce her.

Her hands grabbed at the flat sheet and pulled it off the bed. Bundling it into a messy, chaotic ball, she stomped off into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

Muttering a string of vulgarities for the second time that night, she stripped off her clothes. What she needed was a warm shower to wash away the tight knots in her body. She stood under the running water for a while, enjoying the feel of it ease her tension.

She then towelled herself dry and pulled back her panties on. She caught her naked reflection in the bathroom mirror and paused, self-appraising her body. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were not as full and firm as they used to be before she had her children. Her waist also showed signs of childbirth. In addition, she still carried the caesarean scar from Hannah's birth. She sighed sadly.

She manoevered the flat sheet lengthwise and wrapped it skilfully around her like a sarong, transforming it into a white, draped dress. She a.s.sessed her handiwork in the mirror. Her cowl neckline sat at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The knot on her side only managed to hide what was necessary. The rest fell into a seductive side slit down her legs. She sighed sadly. If she was carefully, she might just be able to manage with it, she thought.

She opened the bathroom door. The bedroom was already in darkness. Chris had turned out all the lights and slipped into bed. She could only make out his dark outline under the covers. She stalled for a while at the door wondering what to do. The room was quite warm from the air conditioning so she might not need any covers for the night. She pushed the two arm chairs together to create a makes.h.i.+ft long chair. She then crept softly to the bed and pulled away a pillow. Turning off the bathroom light, she thankfully stepped into her small, cramped makes.h.i.+ft long chair. Exhausted, she hardly felt the discomfort and soon drifted into a pleasant, deep sleep.

Chris tossed and turned in his bed. His mind kept drifting to the woman who lay a few paces from him. A woman who refused to share his bed. Baffled, he sat up a little and watched her figure in the darkness. He had expected her to give up on her supposed tantrum and join him in his bed. But her breaths told him that she was already asleep.

She was strange. Unlike any woman he had ever known. When he had seen her with Ethan Wells, he was seething with fury. And it wasn't jealousy. He knew jealousy. This was an unfamiliar spewing rage that scalded his mind each time he thought of it. He hated that this woman could have such a weakening effect on him.

Then she had stepped out of the bathroom draped in his flat sheet. He had never seen a flat sheet look so seductive on a woman. She had attempted to do her best at decency but she clearly had no inkling that the light in the bathroom had made her even more sensuous. Her flowery scent from her shower t.i.tillated his senses as she had crept closer to his bed. He had half-hoped she would step under the covers and beside him. He was surprisingly disappointed when she didn't, opting instead for the un-comely armchairs.

He tried to brush away his prurient thoughts of her. His hand reached to the bedside table for his phone and instead knocked it onto the floor. He turned the side lamp on, hoping the light would not awaken her. Stepping out of bed, he picked up his phone. As he rose, his eyes fell on her sleeping form . He walked to her side and a.s.sayed her for a while. Her back was exposed, revealing her fair skin. The slit of her temporary sarong had done nothing to help her. Instead it had loosened, graciously revealing the soft alluring sides of her breast and her long, trim legs. Her long auburn hair fell haphazardly over an arm of the chair, giving her an image of the seductive Celtic G.o.ddess, Aeval, Lady of s.e.xuality, enchanting him to do as she bade. The damp tendrils of her hair fell over her face and he was almost tempted to brush them away, so he could see her lips. Instead, his eyes lowered to her waist. The scar at her abdomen enraptured him. He reached out and lightly caressed its callus tissues with his finger tips. His thumb accidently brushed the soft flesh of her slim waist, tingling his synapses. She moved slightly and he stilled.

He stepped back, feeling guilty. Removing the comforter off his bed, he draped it gently over her. He had misjudged her. She was far too serpentine than he had a.s.sumed. She was unfurling a heat within him and if he wasn't too careful, she'd burn him.

CHAPTER 12.

His phone alarm blared loudly, awakening him from his sleep. His hand instinctively reached for his phone to turn his alarm off. Chris barely could open his eyes. He squinted at his phone for the time. It was eight o'clock. He ran a palm over his face tiredly. Emma, he thought.

He sat up to glance at her but her temporary long chair had split back into arm chairs and positioned at the ends of the bay windows as he had first seen them. Her flat sheet was neatly folded and placed onto the seat of one of the chairs; the only evidence of her night spent in his room. His heart paced faster as he wondered where she could have gone. Breakfast, he reasoned. She must have gone for breakfast.

He stepped out of bed to wash himself. A few minutes through his routine, he peeped back into the room to see if she had returned. The room was still empty. His thoughts drifted to the possibility of Ethan Wells driving her to Breakish. He swallowed nervously. He rushed through his wash and dressed himself rather quickly.

Downstairs he headed for the dining room. It was still quite empty. Guests must still be asleep from the dance last night, he thought. He strolled out into the gardens hoping to see her somewhere but there were no signs of her. He ambled back to the dining room thoughtfully. Ordering himself a light meal of cornmeal pancakes and apple sauce, he waited impatiently for her to arrive soon.

He kicked himself for not taking her phone number. He always remembered phone numbers for his potential lady friends. But that was it. She wasn't his potential lady friend. This was a temporary a.s.signment as arranged by his grandmother. For her sake, he was worried.

An hour later, he was fidgeting. His pancakes had grown cold and insipid. He had barely touched it. His eyes glowered. His right hand busily twirled a fork at his fingers. Finally, he pulled out his phone and scrolled for his grandmother's number.

Emma slumped into her couch. Her mind kept retracing the events of the dance two days ago. She hadn't spoken or seen Chris Cameron since she sneaked out of his hotel room early that morning.

She had awoken from an acute pain in her back. The arm chairs did not give her ample s.p.a.ce to turn at all during the night. She was glad though she had got some rest. She must have been extremely tired to not have noticed the cramped and uncomfortable s.p.a.ce in which she had slept. But she had suffered more in her lifetime. The armchairs were luxury in comparison.

She felt her tentative dress come loose at her waist. Her body would have been exposed had it not been for the comforter laid upon her. She was thankful for it. She would have thanked him as well if he hadn't enraged her so much last night.

She crept up to him but he was fast asleep. He had covered himself with the thin, decorative coverlet. She watched him breathe peacefully and he looked so much different than the arrogant man who tormented her through the night.

She changed into her dress as fast as she could, placed back the arm chairs softly and folded the flat sheet. She put it neatly onto a chair although she knew hotel housekeepers would be throwing it out into their laundry during their run that morning.

She wondered if she should return the favour of covering him with the comforter but then decided against it. She couldn't bear to face him anymore if he awoke. And she was going to do all she could to avoid him.

She called for a taxi from the reception and was gone, leaving the harsh memories of her Dunvegan dance behind her. She couldn't resist a sigh as she saw the inn breeze away in the distance.

Today, she was determined to push back that disastrous night into the abyss of her memories. She laid back on her couch and tried to meditate on the silence in her home. There were no grouchy men, no grumbles, no dragging by the elbows, by the palm...

She sat back up, agitated. Rolling her eyes, she knew it was going to be a daunting task to forget all that had happened at the dance. She was curious though as to why Chris despised Ethan Wells.

The rustle of gravel stones outside told her that a car had approached her house. She peered through her windows and saw it was Ethel's dark BMW coming to a stop. She rose and opened the door to let her in.

"h.e.l.lo," she said as Ethel stepped out of the car.

Ethel's face was grim. She made a sound in her throat but remained quiet as she walked into the house.

"The children are in school?" Ethel asked.

"Yes," Emma replied. It was Monday. It was a question that needn't require asking. Worry began to shadow her face as she felt knots pitting in her stomach. She hadn't been quite as cordial with Ethel when she had picked up the children early in the morning after that ill-fated date.

"Good," said Ethel, nodding. "Can we talk?"