Read BULL: MC ROMANCE (Forsaken Riders MC Romance Book 6) Online
Authors: Samantha Leal
Book 2 of the Runes of Argyll series
Jessica Savage
Copyright ©2015 by Jessica savage All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
As the plane started its descent to 20,000 ft over New York, Andrea woke as the pressure popped in her ears. The cabin was noisy with the chatter of passengers, most of who had just woken in time for the landing. Seat belts were fastened and stray hand luggage stowed away in readiness. Everything seemed so ordinary, so 21st century and Andrea breathed deeply. When she had set off from Glasgow airport that morning she had been full of fire and fury and ready to read the riot act to Steve, but now she was back in civilization her determination had started to waiver. The events of the last week now seemed a dream and she wondered if she could actually be going slightly mad. Her memory was foggy, as if she was trying to recall something that had happened years ago rather than just yesterday.
She remembered carrying out her Grandmother’s last wish, her pilgrimage to the Isle of Iona in the Western Hebrides to return a strange looking stone to the cemetery of the ancient chapel of St Oran. Something had happened there, something remarkable in that sacred place, the thin place where time and eternity met. That's what Geraldine had said, the old woman she had met at the hotel Columba over coffee. Even she now seemed like a phantom.
And then there was Alexhander MacDonald. How could she ever forget him? Yet she could scarcely remember his face now, only the eyes remained burning brightly in her memory, the intense way that he looked at her with his green grey eyes. It all seemed like a distant memory rather than yesterday. But it hadn't been her time, it had been his; 1625 to be exact. The date was engraved in her mind. Yet still it was so ridiculous. The old woman, Geraldine, had found her in the chapel grounds, being violently sick: food poisoning or something of the like. Yet it had seemed so real, she could still feel his touch on her skin, could still feel his presence around her even though the details were no longer clear.
The rune was still in her possession. She had wanted to bury it in the graveyard at the chapel of St Oran, to carry out her Grandma Betty’s wishes, but the old woman had told her to take it with her, to keep it safe and there was something in her manner that made her do just that.
The pilot announced that they were about to start the landing process and she sat upright in her seat.
Wheeling her case through JFK International airport, the bright lights awakened her senses and she started to feel herself again. Settling into the back of a taxi she started to laugh softly.
How ridiculous she had been. A slight dose of salmonella and she had almost convinced herself that she had been time travelling - a lady time lord whizzing through time and space. All she needed was a Tardis. She had definitely been overdoing it lately and would take a short break from work, she was owed some time and things were pretty quiet at the moment.
Steve would be surprised to see her. He had been angry at her for being away in his time of need; his first exhibition was due to open that night and it was the accumulation of years of work. Now she would be at his side and all would be well. He would forgive her. She could feel the excitement well up inside, the past week was forgotten as she looked forward to the future.
***
The apartment was quiet. Steve would be at the gallery making the final preparations for the evening opening. The place was pretty tidy too, as if he hadn't been there for a while, the bed un-slept in, and the towels dry on the bathroom radiator. Even the air was still; the reverent hush of a chapel lay over the sleek furniture as if no one had lived here for years. Steve had probably been staying at the gallery or with friends, he was hopeless at looking after himself. He was a real mummy's boy when it came down to it and would have jumped at any offer to be looked after whilst she was away.
At least it would give her time to shower and change and make herself glamorous for him. It was true; absence really did make the heart grow fonder.
Andrea could have stayed under the shower for hours. The hot water streamed over her tired body, reviving and refreshing. For a moment she almost remembered another time, a picture appearing in her mind of an earthenware bowl in front of an open fire, a black cloaked figure with a smiling face. The thought stayed for a mere instance before disappearing.
Scrubbing at her skin she sloughed away at the dry skin cells; off with the old and onto the new. Patting herself dry on the soft towels she reached for her body oil. It was lavender and the old fashioned smell never failed to revive her senses, de-stress her body and soul.
As she rubbed a small amount of the oil into her skin her heart began to race. Somehow the smell excited her; brought out a longing within her. Again it was gone in an instance and she shook her head at her own imaginings.
She tried not to be vain, but checking in the mirror she looked pretty good for someone who had just stepped off the plane less than 3 hours ago. The expensive black trouser suit accentuated her figure and the silk blouse was an exact match to her eyes, bringing out their color in a most enchanting manner.
The exhibition would start in just over two hours, time for a quick reunion with Steve before the celebrity guests and VIPs started to arrive.
Although it was only 2 blocks to the gallery she hailed a yellow cab, her heels ridiculously high to walk far in. They were for 'display purposes only' as she used to joke to Steve.
***
The gallery was very chic and large notices heralded the opening night. There would be press and TV coverage too and after tonight their lives would never be the same again. The year was already booked with guest appearances, dinners and countless social extravaganzas. There were a few people milling around, some familiar faces, but most of them new to Andrea. As she paid the taxi fare she spotted Jim, a good friend of both her and Steve's, and she shouted over to him.
To say that he looked shocked was an understatement. His face was almost white by the time Andrea had walked over and stood smiling in front of him.
"Hey Jim, it's me. You look like you’ve seen a ghost?"
She laughed. But Jim didn't respond, only opened and closed his mouth like a fish.
Andrea laughed. She hadn't been away that long.
"I thought I'd surprise Steve"
"He'll be surprised all right - shall I rush up and warn him?"
Jim was obviously having some joke with her and eventually he broke into a half smile.
"No, it’s OK Jim, I really do want to surprise him. I think I'm in his bad books and I need to atone for my sins."
He opened his mouth as if to speak but after consideration, kept silent. It was not his call.
As she entered through the glass doors she could see his reflection staring back behind her. If she hadn't been so excited she would have felt most unwelcome.
The exhibition was on the second floor but the foyer was already decked out with flowers and a few prints, tasters of the first collection of Steve’s.
Pressing the lift button her heart was almost in her mouth, it was such an exciting time and she could hardly wait to see him again.
The lift opened directly onto the gallery space. Before the doors opened she had spotted Steve looking relaxed, leaning over a table with a dark haired woman. He was laughing, which was a real change for him, she had expected to find him prowling the gallery floor like a caged animal, fretting about this and that little detail.
The ping of the lift doors opening caused them to look up. Andrea’s face was beaming as she stepped into the room, her eyes alight and ready to greet her lover.
Steve hadn't moved, but held his head at a slight angle whilst looking at her, the stillness of his features belying the turmoil within.
"Surprise" she rushed across the gallery floor, her high heeled boots clicking over the polished wooden surface. Steve whispered something to the woman at his side as he stepped forward to greet her.
"Andrea, now this IS a surprise"
He seemed cool as he walked slowly over to where she had stopped. There was something wrong, his voice sounded different and she could sense something in the pit of her stomach as she stepped forward to embrace him.
Ignoring her outstretched arms, he kissed her coolly on the cheek. Her eyes sought his but he looked away. Normally he was so demonstrative in public.
"Andrea can I introduce you to Helen, Helen McDonald, she's part owner of the gallery here" his voice was clinical as if he were introducing a work client.
The woman with dark hair stepped forward. She was pale with piercing green eyes. She wasn't exactly beautiful yet there was something striking about her, an aura and a presence that took Andrea by surprise and somehow made her feel inferior. There was a strange feeling of power around her too. Perhaps it was the expensive jewelry and clothes, or the perfectly manicured nails and coiffured hair, yet it was more than that. Andrea felt weakened by her, disempowered, as she shook the slender hand. There was also a strong sense of déjà vu, as if they had met before, but Andrea could swear that wasn’t possible, it just wasn’t true.
Helen smiled back, the secret smile of the Sphinx that wavered on her lips but did not reach her eyes. She had seen that smile before but she couldn’t think where or when.
Steve was definitely acting strange. Normally suave and sophisticated, his hands moved jerkily and there was something dishonest about his general demeanor.
Helen was like a cat at his side, stretching her long arms and fingers with an air of smug satisfaction. She was almost predatory in the way she moved stealthily around him, like a lion around a gazelle.
Andrea knew instinctively that something was wrong and her air of excitement and expectancy of being back home began to fade into something ugly and twisted. It was obvious he was sleeping with this woman. She felt almost sorry for him, he looked confused and somewhat weary around the eyes, obviously her sudden appearance had caused him some real problems. Well tough!
She had only been gone just over a week, 10 days to be exact and he had been unfaithful. Whilst she was stood at her grandmother’s graveside he had been shagging this stranger. Andrea could feel the anger rising inside of her but it had nowhere to go. The exhibition would be opening soon and it would be no good to cause a scene out here in public. She would have to wait, bide her time and stem her feelings until later, when she could rant and scream in private.
Steve made an excuse to leave. One of the exhibits needed looking at and after a quick smile and squeeze of her arm he left the two women together.
Helen gave him a knowing smile as he headed across the room.
‘
Coward
’
, thought Andrea, like all men, sloping off when they couldn't stand the heat.
"Well Andrea, we weren't expecting you back tonight. What made you change your mind?" Helen almost purred in her Deep South American lazy drawl.
She felt like shouting
'None of your fucking business bitch
' but ended up smiling instead. The word '
we
' had grated too. It inferred that Helen and Steve were an item and it was she who was the odd one out.
Andrea hated this woman more and more. She was certainly trying her best to usurp her and Andrea was determined not to let that happen.
"Steve has worked so hard for this. It's his night and we have to allow him a little leeway. Artistic souls always like to have a sense of freedom don't you think. We don't want to cramp his style"
Biting her lip Andrea wants to scream. How dare this woman tell her about Steve; HER Steve?
"Yes I do know how hard STEVE has been working. We have been through it all together and I have been supporting him for the last 3 years"
Helen narrowed her eyes as if she had not expected this inferior woman stood before her to retaliate. It was good to have a bit of fighting spirit in one’s adversaries. She always enjoyed a challenge.
***
Very soon the champagne corks were popping and flashbulbs exploding as the event kicked off with a host of the great and the good in attendance. The beautiful people arrived and were whisked through the canapés and glasses of bubbly with a sophisticated ease. The whole thing was a terrific success and Steve reveled in the limelight, once again finding his nerve and oozing charm in bucketfuls, having pulled off the evening with great aplomb.
Andrea had been by his side for most of the evening, the supportive partner. The tabloids would show pictures of them the following morning, portraying them as the golden couple, the beautiful pair. They had spoken little apart from the usual pleasantries. Smiling much more than talking and the pretence was making Andrea weary. In the background she would always catch Helen hovering around, casually glancing over at Steve, catching his eye, brushing his arm with her hand, passing him another glass of champagne and laughing at the end of his jokes. She was like an irritating fly that Andrea longed to swat.
***
She was tired and needed to rest but also needed to be on her guard. The effort was taking its toll and she leaned into a large Grecian pillar that let into a small alcove where one of Steve's larger pictures was framed, for support.