Authors: Cristiane Serruya
You don’t know the power you hold over me, do you?
He stared at her, taking in her smooth skin, her straight nose and full lips, until he drowned himself in her transparent light honey colored eyes. “For you, Sophia, I would have.”
Scotland, Northern Highlands, Inchnadamph.
Altreck Caisteal.
9.25 a.m.
It was pitch dark and icy cold.
Barbara tried to grab the branch of a tree but her hand only brushed it and she fell and fell.
Gnarled tree fingers ripped her dress and slashed her skin.
She looked up as her body weight took her even deeper into the abyss.
On the edge of the mountain, Sophia was smirking down at her.
“Ethan, please!” Barbara screamed, her hand outstretched, begging for his help.
For any help.
With his arm around Sophia’s shoulders, Ethan didn’t even blink as he watched Barbara fall to her death.
“No.” The garbled whisper left Barbara’s mouth as she sat up startled and drenched in sweat. She heaved a great breath of relief, realizing that it was only a nightmare.
She looked around the dimly-lit room and noticed that Ethan was not in bed anymore.
She rose a few minutes later and walked to the bathroom. She paused at the opened door and stood there admiring Ethan’s fit body in the shower.
He was thinner but he was a hunk anyway.
The water beat on his broad shoulders and sluiced down to his tapered waist, lean stomach, manhood and strong legs.
His moist tanned skin glistening with water, liquid soap and bubbles made her mouth water, her hands twitched and her heart quickened. Barbara had always had a thing for men showering. It turned her on as nothing could.
She shook her head at herself. She knew she should not feel anything for him. Not even lust. She knew Ethan didn’t like her. He loved Sophia.
And being with him was only work; a means to pay off her father’s debts and to earn her living.
Barbara grimaced as the thought made her swallow bile. Hatred shimmered in her eyes for a moment before she composed herself.
She could not fool herself anymore. With all her being, she detested the woman that she was impersonating.
Barbara had fallen in love with Ethan.
Ethan let the hot water beat his body while he remembered the last time he had seen Sophia.
Her wedding was vividly imprinted in his mind.
It had been a big event in contrast with traditional European celebrations. As everything Sophia did, everyone had been received with warmth, gentleness and felt special. The guests had been housed within the MacCraigs’ properties and received special gifts.
Ethan lathered his hair, masochistically reminiscing; Sophia climbing down the stairs so moved that she could not even smile; her dress showing and tempting, that frilled lace hiding exactly what he wanted to see, leaving his imagination on fire; going from table to table, talking to each and every one, smiling in ecstasy, with Alistair’s arm around her waist. And the way she glittered under the huge crystal chandeliers of the Airgead ballroom, dancing one last time with him.
How good he had felt having her in his arms.
Her smell, her softness. Her.
Ethan sighed and rinsed his hair. He was feeling tired. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before. He hadn’t been sleeping well ever since Scott had told him about her engagement to Alistair. By the time he danced with Sophia, Ethan knew it was all over. As soon as he left Airgead Caisteal, weariness overcame him.
Paola had babbled during the helicopter ride to Altreck Caisteal, making him regret his decision to take her. He didn’t like women that talked much.
In fact, every new woman since Sophia annoyed him.
In the beginning, even Barbara.
Not quite anymore.
As if hearing his thoughts, Barbara plastered a smile on her face and knocked on the door frame.
Ethan turned his head to look at her.
He enjoyed looking at Barbara. One could even say she was more beautiful than Sophia; her hair was as silky, her skin as smooth, she was taller, her body a bit more curvaceous, and her scar was smaller and less pronounced.
Ethan liked her body as it was.
A stunning, sexy woman. So, what’s missing?
He tried to compare the feelings he felt for one and for the other and the reality made him sick. He felt lust for Barbara because she was a woman that looked like Sophia. But he did not love or even like her. And he knew why.
For once in his life, Sophia had made him feel special, loved.
Sophia had cared for his inner-self. She had liked and admired him for what he had to offer as a human being. She didn’t care about his wealth, or his status as a successful businessman. It was not because she was rich or a successful woman herself. No. It was because Sophia had something different in her. She looked beyond appearances and conventions to the bare heart and soul.
And he had thrown it all away.
His eyes raked Barbara up and down, taking note of every difference. And of every similarity.
She resembled Sophia so much that his heart clenched in his chest and tears filled his eyes. He was glad he was still in the shower. He didn’t allow anyone to see him crying.
I have to dismiss her. But where will I find such a woman that treats me so well?
He was silent for so long that Barbara cleared her throat and said, “Good morning, dear.”
Ethan shook his head, shooing away his thoughts, and motioned for her. “Take a shower with me.”
Barbara’s body tingled in all the wrong places when she heard his baritone voice. Her breasts felt heavy and she felt a pull in her core. She reasoned with herself that it was only sexual desire; after all he was a very handsome man. She clenched her teeth. She wanted to leave and never return, but she saw herself walking lithely to the shower with a welcoming smile on her lips.
Ethan pulled Barbara to an open-mouthed kiss as soon as she entered the stall. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine it was Sophia in his arms but it didn’t work. When he had danced with her last night, all the feelings that were buried came back with full force. He tore away from the kiss, disgusted with himself and with the woman in front of him. His eyes glazed with memories.
“Ethan?” Barbara’s voice came out shaky and breathless as she sensed him withdrawing, inwardly wincing at the pain that tore through her heart.
He uttered a vicious curse and pressed her against the marble wall to suck her nipple. She pushed herself toward his mouth, encouraging him, and dipped her fingers in his wet hair. She couldn’t stop the moan that came from her parted lips and arched her chest upward against his face to give him better access while Ethan sucked her breast into his mouth and rolled his tongue over the tip.
It was an erotic feeling, something she’d never experienced with any man but Ethan. She loved the way he initiated sex, sometimes without asking permission, almost demanding she felt pleasure.
“Nice,” Ethan growled before his mouth moved to the other nipple and closed around it. He growled, causing vibrations and sucked on her with hard tugs, his teeth rubbing against her sensitive nipple.
Barbara moaned louder and dug her fingers in his scalp, holding his head in place. Her body responded in a shocking manner when Ethan was near.
His knee shoved at her thighs to spread her wider and his hand cupped her between her legs. His thumb firmly rubbed her clitoris.
She reacted instinctively as the sensation tore through her body, moaning, “Yes, take me, Ethan. Love me.”
Love me?
He froze. Cold air hit her when he jerked away from her and Barbara’s eyes flew open as she tried to remember what she had said to cause such an intense reaction.
Ethan’s entire body stiffened and towered over her, as he analyzed her, struggling to divine what was behind her words. He rasped, “You do warm up, don’t you?”
She was impressed. The man must have ice in his heart and fire in his veins. His hand was wrapped around her buttock. She could feel its warmth and the strength of his grip even under the shower and his hard manhood stated his arousal. However, his detached eyes belied all the passion his body displayed.
Ethan pressed his erection on her lower stomach and his fingers dug hard in the firm flesh of her butt before he released her. “Face the wall. I’ll have you now.”
Barbara put her hands on the marbled wall and pushed her rump in his direction. She screamed his name in pleasure when he hammered his hard arousal in her.
Ethan closed his eyes to the sight of the woman in front of him and let Sophia’s images come to the fore. After a few more hard and fast thrusts, he felt Barbara’s orgasm grip him and it triggered his.
Without permission, an exclamation left his mouth, “Ah! Sophia!”
Barbara hated herself at that moment.
Her traitorous heart and body ached with love and lust for a man who was just using her.
9.49 a.m.
Ethan was so immersed in his thoughts as he climbed down the stairs that he missed the rich French tapestries hanging from the tall stone walls and the lavish new furbishing he had ordered after Sophia had stayed there.
Originally a large and imposing structure that once housed more than a thousand persons inside its defensive walls, Altreck Caisteal had been partially destroyed by many fierce battles over the centuries, but the main building had stood intact. Standing on a peninsula, it was a rectangular-shaped three-floor keep, with four round towers and a preserved dungeon, a walled garden and formal courtyard. When the waters rose very high, the castle could be cut off from the mainland and reached only by a small ferry-boat.
Ethan’s grandfather, Niarchos Angepopoulos, had bought Altreck Caisteal for his English wife, Elizabeth Ashford, who missed the cold and rainy British weather. They had searched up and down the United Kingdom for a place and were almost giving up, when Elizabeth saw it standing solitary on a small promontory jutting out of Loch Assynt.
Niarchos pointed out that it was too far away from any city or community and that it would need restoring and refurbishing.
Elizabeth had fallen in love with its loch, its ghosts and legends. The idea of having such a beautiful haunted landscape to spend her summer vacations rooted on her mind. Niarchos could never deny his wife’s whims and bought it, restoring it to its former glory and more.
After Elizabeth died, Niarchos didn’t set foot on the property anymore.
Calista never had the least interest in a place far from the sizzling metropolises and stayed at the house that had been her mother’s in Chiswick, the Ashford Mansion.
Niarchos happily bestowed the castle, and Ashford Mansion - just as a precaution - to his only grandson.
When Ethan left the master-bedroom dressed to have breakfast with Paola, Barbara had kissed him with what he thought was a sad smile.
As he closed and locked the bedroom door from outside, he realized he was keeping her as a prisoner. He knew he was paying her very well and that she liked his company, but somehow, since yesterday, the whole situation started grating on his nerves. Now he had to entertain Paola, whom he was paying too.
He brooded darkly about the many women and no love in his life. That was all his fault. Both women had tried to entice Ethan but he had kept a polite distance and, unlike Barbara, Paola understood the message.
Paola di Lucca was a young woman who had the potential to be one of the most sought after models in the world. She was perfect for egocentric designers as she was tall, very thin, charming and stunning. However what made her stand out from the crowd was her peculiar way of walking and standing which made the eye seek the clothes and not her.
He could choose from several different women to please him. But, no. All he wanted was Sophia, the only one who didn’t want him.
He cursed, then scowled at himself.
Usually, Ethan didn’t swear because it reminded him of his parents, who used foul language for everything.
That day he had already cursed twice.
Ethan was having one of those days when even the sight of a person caused his emotions to flare up without explanation. He disliked immensely when he behaved unstably, alternating between high, happy positive elation and dark, heavy disappointment, and when he felt impulsive.
When he was a teenager, one of the many psychiatrists his grandfather took him to said that Ethan idealized or devalued himself and others, because he had low self-esteem and poor self-image; all were caused by repeated and prolonged abuse. He had also often been misjudged as being immature and inconsistent because he wasn’t able to connect with people.
He snorted at the idea as he looked for a book to read. His fingers brushed Machiavelli’s books but he dismissed them as he remembered one of his quotes. ‘
Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience what you really are.’
He walked to the end of the library thinking about how many had known him and the thought dispirited him.
He picked up
Fernando Pessoa’s
The Book of Disquiet
. He leafed through it aimlessly, back and forth.
The words jumped from the book’s preface and beckoned him.
Unbidden, a hushed, reverential whisper left his mouth, “
‘I don’t know how many souls I have. I’ve changed at every moment. I always feel like a stranger. I’ve never seen or found myself. From being so much, I have only soul. A man who has soul has no calm. A man who sees is just what he sees. A man who feels is not who he is.’”
As Ethan sat on the sofa near the French doors that faced the loch,
he thought about how his parents’ abuse had affected his life on all levels and whether he had overcome it yet. How solitary like Pessoa, he felt.
What Ethan didn’t know was that the abuse had damaged him in such a deep, permanent way that
he had blocked out most of what happened during his childhood and teenage years by choosing unconsciously to compartmentalize.