Always a Wanderer Page 6

  Chapter Six

  JUST WHEN HELENA THOUGHT life couldn’t get any more complicated, they had a murder on their hands, Graham’s mother was possibly suicidal and refusing help, and Mr. Shane seemed to be going off the deep end.

  Good or bad, they needed Mr. Shane to come back to himself and to his role as the leader of the manor staff. She and Graham had enough on their hands with the hospital, and the last thing they needed was to have to run the business of the manor in addition to the murder investigation. For now, they needed life to be as normal as possible—even if that meant suffering through the tumultuous nature of Mr. Shane’s moods.

  Maybe someday she would understand the man. On the other hand, maybe she didn’t want to understand exactly what made him tick—or what had made him freak out.

  Graham hung up his mobile and sat it on the table between them. The drawing room was full of tourists, and she couldn’t help but wonder how many of them were here for the hospital’s grand opening tomorrow. They had carefully selected guests from the families of those in their care, those whose relatives were supportive and involved in caring for their loved ones.

  She couldn’t wait for the celebration—finally there would be something positive in their lives, and maybe some of the seemingly perpetual stress would come to an end.

  “The hospital staff has been talking.” Graham motioned to his phone.

  “And? Did anyone see anything that would give us any clues about Neill’s death?”

  He shook his head.

  “Ya made it clear that Neill’s death isn’t to be talked about tomorrow, aye?”

  “No one there is foolish. They don’t want to lose their jobs or put anything at risk. I think they’re going to stay quiet. At least for the event. As for after it’s over, though...” He shrugged.

  “What do ya mean?”

  “They’re scared. They don’t know what’s going on. And, just like us, they don’t understand the death. At least they don’t know it was a murder. Yet.” He picked up his fork and pressed it into the bits of chicken he had pushed around on his plate while he’d been talking. “If...wait...when they find out. Well, you remember what happened last time; we ended up losing a quarter of our staff after Herb’s death. We are going to have to work double time in order to stay open and keep the remaining staff happy.”

  He took a bite, chewing slowly, as if he wanted to savor this fleeting moment of peace.

  He was right. If the staff found out more about Neill’s death, they would panic. Gossip would follow. Then the mob mentality would kick in. She and Graham would have to be careful how they navigated these waters.

  “Do ya think this event is really even worth the risk of an investigation?” She couldn’t believe she was uttering the words that Mr. Shane had said only a day before.

  He gazed at her for a moment, but thankfully it was with a look of understanding, and it seemed he was carefully choosing his words. “The thought has crossed my mind. We could just let this go.” He popped another bite into his mouth.

  She waited for him to swallow as she thought over the ramifications a decision like this would have on their lives.

  “If we don’t go looking into this, maybe things will be okay. Maybe his death will just be swept under the rug. Things can just move along fine. No one would be any the wiser. There are only a few who know the truth,” she said, trying to convince herself it was the right decision.

  But deep in her gut, it just felt wrong. Something like this, the death of an innocent man, needed to be understood and atoned for. They needed to find out who had been behind it. If she and Graham didn’t act now, what would happen if the person responsible murdered someone else? They would bear the blame, if only because they had failed to act.

  Then again, if they actively pursued the case, everything—their relationship, Mr. Shane, Rose, her family, the hospital and its staff—could turn to dust beneath their fingertips.

  “I don’t know, Helena. I don’t know what to do,” Graham said, in a voice that was soft and pleading.

  “Neither do I, Graham, but we can’t just walk away.”

  Giorgio was busy handling the man’s remains and looking into the hospital staff, and there was little they could do until he got back to them. They needed to act, but right now they were at an impasse. It would have been easy to walk away, but hard to look in the mirror.

  Right now what she really needed was escape. She glanced back up at Graham, her eyes lingering on his stubble-ridden jaw. Her heart melted as she looked into his chocolate-colored eyes. They were deep and rich, warm in a way that swept into her core and made her think of the fantasy she’d had earlier. She squirmed in her chair.

  What would it be like to have him in her bed? Would she be a sinner if she gave in to her need to be touched by a man?

  She would be going against her culture and her traditions if she gave herself to a man before marriage. Yet, every part of her yearned to be touched by him. She needed to feel him against her skin. To feel his lips explore the curves of her body.

  Her body shook, forcing her to move in her chair.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, still looking at her with those stunning eyes.

  “Aye, I’m fine.”

  “Really?”

  How could she tell him that she needed a break from the stresses of life? More, that she wanted him?

  “Do ya wanna get out of here?” she asked, motioning to the busy drawing room, where couples filled the tables around them.

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  She gave him a wicked smile. “I mean do ya want to get out of here?”

  He cocked his head to one side like a confused pup before an impish smile flickered over his lips, accentuating the cleft in his chin. “Are you serious?”

  She stood up and held out her hand for him to take hold. It felt so good to be in control of some element of her life for once.

  He put his hand into hers. It felt strange, this role reversal, but it was empowering. Why did she have to wait for the man to make the first move? She could be a lady and still get exactly what she wanted from a man—even if it was sex.

  It was as if a whole new door had opened in her soul as she realized the power she held. She could be the woman she wanted to be—at least in the bedroom. She didn’t have to be held back by the restrictions her culture had placed on her. Or rather, she didn’t wish to be. The stigmas and limitations of her past had held so much power over her, but why did she have to continue to let them? She had the right to make her own choices.

  She’d already broken tradition by coming to live at the manor. Now it was time to continue following her heart.

  Hopefully, she wouldn’t regret it in the morning.

  Then again, looking into Graham’s hungry, needy eyes, she wondered if she was crazy to doubt herself. With a man as special as him, this couldn’t possibly be a bad choice. He wasn’t a one-night stand, or a man who meant nothing. They were going through a hard time. They needed each other. Now more than ever.

  He stood up and followed her out of the room. She couldn’t help the way her hips seemed to sway as if they had a mind of their own. She felt sexier than she had in her entire life. Almost as if a whole new part of her soul had been awakened.

  She was raw power.

  “Do ya wanna go to your room?” she whispered, looking back over her shoulder at him as they left the hall.

  “Uh.” He paused, as though struggling to follow her train of thought. “I...Are you sure you want to go up there?” He looked at her with a mix of shock and awe, like he couldn’t believe his luck, or understand what he’d done to earn this.

  She was ready. Everything else in her life had pushed her into independence and womanhood—it seemed only right that her body should follow.

  “It’s been a long few months. We need this. I need to be close to someone. I need to be close to you.”

  His hesitation disappeared, and he wrapped his arms around her. “I...I can’
t believe—” He shut up, like he realized that he was possibly jinxing her offer. “If you’re sure.”

  She loved the feeling of being in his arms. For the first time in a long time, she was safe. Like his touch promised her a reprieve from the reality that seemed to press in from all sides.

  The closer they came to his room, the faster her heart beat, and she was sure if she wasn’t careful, it would burst from her chest.

  Apprehension nibbled at her, but she forced down the feeling. It was nothing more than social conditioning. What she was doing wasn’t wrong. It was right, in so many ways.

  Graham opened his door.

  It had been a long time since she had been in this room. It smelled of his aftershave, a mixture of sandalwood and something reminiscent of green grass and the outdoors—it was the scent of a real man, and just the thought made her body clench with longing.

  On the bookshelf was a collection of action books—John Grisham, Lee Child, and David Baldacci—but beside them were the works of Robert Frost and Walt Whitman. There was something so sexy about a man who loved to read about murder and mayhem and then, in the quiet hours, took time to skim through the weight of beautiful words—words that captured the soul and made a person question every aspect of their nature.

  Across from his bed was a fireplace, a remnant of bygone days in which life had been slower, maybe even easier than the world she lived in now. Her thoughts drifted to when she and her siblings had been young and moving around the countryside. That was one of the things she missed the most about a life disconnected—gone were the moments by the fire, the quiet solitude of a morning in their campsite. Her life had changed so quickly.

  And yet, here she was, ready for the next step. For a choice that might forever change her and her opinion of herself.

  She let go of Graham’s hand and made her way into the room. The bed was so close.

  They had snogged, but never in a bed. Never even in his room. Being there now amplified every need she was feeling. She felt so...so naughty.

  “If you want, we can just watch telly or something,” Graham said, motioning toward the screen on the opposite wall.

  It was nice of him to try and make her feel at ease, but that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted him to take her face in his hands, kiss her like it was the last time anyone on the planet would ever have the chance to kiss, and then show her how to get what she so badly wanted.

  Then again, she couldn’t judge him for acting like a gentleman. So many women would kill for a man like him—a man who had happily gone along with a relationship in which, for the last few months, he had been treated like a friend and given no promises of anything more.

  For a second she wondered if she was making this decision partly because of her guilt and insecurity about her role in their relationship, but she pushed the thought aside. Guilt had nothing to do with the desire roaring through her.

  She just had to stop overthinking, but the only way she could was by doing something she had no idea how to initiate.

  What if she walked over to him, put her arms around him, and just took his lips in hers? Would things naturally progress? Was she just supposed to take off her clothes and get into bed? She’d seen enough telly to know there was a certain dance that always took place in moments like this, but suddenly she felt like she had two giant left feet.

  Unsure, she walked across the room and stood in front of the fireplace. Three logs were stacked in the grate, waiting for the flame to be lit. They were so naked, so exposed, so vulnerable.

  Vulnerable. The word reverberated through her. Was she really ready to have him see all of her? To have him judge her for all of her flaws? To be open to and possessed by a man?

  Graham stepped behind her and drew his arms around her waist. He bent down, his hot breath on her neck, and his lips slowly grazed the soft skin where her neck and her shoulders blended into one.

  She sucked in a long breath as his tongue flicked against her skin.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his hot breath moving over her and making goose bumps rise on her arms and down her legs. “I’ve never wanted anyone or anything as badly as I want you. Right now. Right here. Are you sure you are ready for this?”

  She wasn’t sure of anything except how badly she wanted him. If she gave him this moment, if they shared it, maybe everything would fall back into place and their relationship could get back on track. She could prove her feelings to him and show him that no matter how hard things were, she still cared about him.

  Helena nodded and turned her face, rubbing her cheek over his stubble. It made the nerves in her skin spark, and she yearned for his soft touch after the roughness. She turned her body in his hands, coming face-to-face with him. Even without a fire, she could feel the heat rising around them.

  “I’ve wanted ya and this for as long as I’ve known ya.” She moved close, so her lips were nearly touching his. “I’m sorry it’s taken so long. I just...”

  He leaned back and away from her lips. “You can’t possibly be apologizing because you wanted to take your time. You’re allowed to take as much time as you need. I want you to be happy with this, and me. I don’t want to force you into anything.”

  Any residual reservations she held dissipated into nothingness. He was sexy, but more than that, he was kind. That was a far bigger turn-on than the smooth contours of his chest or the muscles that pressed against the sleeves of his shirt. Superficial beauty was fleeting, but a beautiful soul was something that couldn’t be replicated.

  Leaning forward ever so boldly, she took his mouth with hers.

  This was their moment.

  His tongue skimmed over hers, and she lived in the pleasure of feeling his mouth exploring hers, diving deeper, making her hungry for more. Without breaking their kiss, she ran her hands down his shirt and pulled open his buttons as she moved closer to the bed.

  He moaned into her mouth as she slipped the white shirt off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. His kilt was next, and her mind wandered to the vision she’d had months ago. Was this the moment she had seen thanks to the forshaw? Was her fantasy going to become reality?

  The dampness grew between her thighs at the thought of him teasing her with his nakedness, or maybe it was the way his lips moved down over her chin. His tongue flicked against her skin as he pulled open the first button of her shirt and exposed the tops of her warm breasts to the cool bedroom air.

  His fingers trembled as he undid the rest of the buttons of her shirt. Was he really nervous? Or was it merely excitement that made his hands shake?

  Maybe he was just as nervous as she was.

  The thought was endearing.

  Here he was, a man she assumed had been in a situation like this before, acting just as innocent as she did.

  For a moment, she thought about bringing up the subject of how many women he had slept with, but decided better of it. Some things didn’t need to be known. All she had to know was that he wanted her.

  He pulled her shirt off, letting it drop to the floor upon his. He unclasped her bra, and the straps slipped down her arms and she dropped it at her feet. She covered her nakedness self-consciously. No one had ever seen her like this...this exposed.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You don’t need to cover yourself when you are with me. I want you to feel proud of who and what you are, always. You’re beautiful.” He reached up and gently pulled her hands down, away from her naked breasts.

  The cool air caressed her nipples, making them grow hard.

  He looked up at her as he took one nub into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. She threw her head back with a wild moan at the feeling of his tongue on her flooded her senses.

  This...him...it was all so fecking hot.

  Her thighs trembled, and he pushed her down gently upon the bed. He stood between her open legs. Her skirt was hiked up, mere inches from revealing the rest of her.

  For a moment he stood still, admiring her. �
��I’m the luckiest man alive,” he said, half under his breath.

  He reached down and unfastened the belt that held his sporran in place. As she watched him, she slipped under the covers of the bed, pulling the white sheet around her middle.

  “No,” she said, watching him undo his kilt and let it slip down his thighs. “I’m the lucky one.”

  He held his red kilt with his left hand, so it just covered him. He smiled, the action impish and a bit shy, as though he were just as self-conscious.

  She let the sheet drop from her hands as she reached out to him. “Come here.”

  He dropped the kilt, exposing all of him.

  He was even better than she remembered from her vision. He climbed across the bed and slipped beneath the sheets beside her. Pulling her body against his, he reached down and ran his fingers over the edge of her skirt.

  “It hardly seems fair that I’m the only one naked,” he said with a wicked smile as he ducked beneath the sheets.

  She drew in a breath as she lay back, resting her head on the pillow as his lips caressed the sensitive skin of her thigh. He trailed his tongue up her, to the edge of her skirt. When he reached her waist, he slowly, tooth by tooth, lowered the zipper. He pulled the skirt down her legs, kissing each spot where the fabric pulled against her skin.

  The pleasure was agony, feeling him work over her skin, sucking and licking her as he moved to her panties.

  She peeked under the sheet and watched as he lowered them down to her knees, slipped them over her toes, and let them fall to the mattress beside her skirt. He kissed up her leg, following an invisible trail that led, millimeter by millimeter, to her center.

  His tongue hit her mark, and her body shuddered with the ecstasy of the wonderful, powerful unknown. Her body went numb in all but the place their bodies had melded into one; there she could feel every stroke, every swirl of his tongue and vibration of his breath. It was so intense.

  Almost too intense.

  The world spun around her. The draw of the other world threatened to pull her away from the moment she had waited so long for.

  This couldn’t be happening. Not a vision.