Authors: Jillian Brookes-Ward
Nat examined her wounds closely. 'You need a doctor.'
'I've already seen one at the medical centre. I'm fine...just a bit battered and bruised.'
'Was anyone else hurt?' asked Rebecca.
'No, just me.'
Nat took her in a hug and she winced. The seatbelt had tightened against her shoulder, collar bone and sternum, and they too were heavily bruised. 'I'm sorry,' he said, and slackened his grip.
'I'm alright. I'll live. I'm just a bit shaken up. I can't say the same for the car, though. They had to tow it, it's wrecked.'
'I'll buy you another one, any one you want.' He gently encircled her with his arms in a protective cocoon. 'Oh, my love, I thought I'd lost you.' He tried to find a part of her face he could touch without hurting her.
'I'm okay, sweetheart, really.' She wrinkled her nose as she too noticed the sour odour on him. 'What's that smell?' She took a deep investigative sniff of his shirt. 'It smells like…like fireworks.'
'It's nothing.' He pressed his lips gently to the uninjured left side of her forehead and glanced over at Rebecca. She gave him a small nod of encouragement. He mouthed a silent, 'Thank you', and gave her a warm smile.
He put his arm tenderly around Megan's shoulders. 'Come on, let's go home. It's time I gave you some special Mackie TLC.'
Chapter 40
On the short drive back to the Lodge they didn't speak, but Nat continually cast anxious sideways glances toward Megan. For reassurance, she patted his thigh lightly.
The house was in darkness when they arrived. Without pausing to put on any lights, he led her directly through into the sitting room. She noticed the same acrid smell in the hallway, but before she had a chance to ask again what it could be, he had closed the door against it.
He switched on the lights and dimmed their brightness to a subtle half-light. He took her coat from her, sat her down on the sofa and took off her shoes. He put her feet up on the seat and arranged cushions under her head. 'Stay there,' he said. 'Don't you move…I'll be back in five minutes.'
She was, as he expected, about to protest and he fixed her with a stern look which resolutely told her, 'Don't you dare!' He put up his hand, his fingers splayed. 'I'll be five minutes. Stay right there and don't move a muscle.'
With a submissive nod, she obeyed and lay back onto the cushions.
He took a deep breath and pushed open the study door. The destruction was still there. It hadn't been a horrible dream after all - he really had blasted a yawning hole in the back of his chair with the shotgun. The glaring evidence of his temporary mental breakdown was undeniable.
He picked up the gun and stowed it back in the cabinet; he would find time to clean it later. The rancid smell of powder still hung in the air, but the smoke had cleared. There was no way, however, to hide the mutilation to the chair. He would have to stop Megan from coming into the study until he could get rid of it. That would not be easy, and any excuse he came up with for disposing of his most beloved piece of furniture would have to be the most inventive in history for her to believe it.
Something else to think about…later.
Right now, Megan, resting on the sofa in the living room, was his first and only priority. He skirted around the carnage to retrieve the bottle of Southern Comfort from the bottom drawer of his desk. He edged his way out of the room, and for the first time in many years, locked the study door behind him.
He re-joined Megan in the sitting room, relieved to see she had not moved. She was still reclined on the cushions with her eyes closed. At his approach, she opened them and smiled half-heartedly. He handed her a glass with a measure of spirit.
'Purely medicinal,' he said.
'Where's yours?'
'I've given up.'
He lifted her legs, sat down and rested her feet in his lap. She drank the amber liquid down in a single gulp and coughed as it burned the back of her throat. She placed the empty glass on the floor.
'What happened?' he asked as he massaged her feet.
'I was on my way back here…'
She was coming back…
'…it was a silly accident. It was all my fault. I had the sun in my eyes and couldn't see properly. It's not fair, there was hardly a scratch on the other bloke's car, but he was the one making a real to-do about it.'
'You were lucky. You could have been killed.'
She sighed. 'It wasn't that bad, but it's the end of my insurance no claims bonus for the next few years.'
'You should be in hospital.'
'I'm fine. Stop fussing. The doctor came out and took me back to the Minor Injuries Unit for observation. He poked and prodded me and did an x-ray of my head. 'No bony injury,' he said, and made me lie down on a bed for ages. He wanted to make sure I didn't have a concussion. Then the police came, and there were forms to fill in and questions to answer and...can you believe this, they breathalysed me as if I were a drunk driver.'
He rubbed her toes. 'Why didn't you call me, or Rebecca? We were frantic with worry.'
'I'm sorry, I didn't think…it all happened so quickly and there was so much to deal with.'
'You couldn't manage a single phone call?'
'Don't be cross with me, Nat. I didn't think it would take so long…and I didn't want to bother anyone…' Her voice trailed off and her brow suddenly creased. She threw her hands over her face and began to cry. 'I'm sorry…I'm such a stupid cow.'
Nat gathered her protectively in his arms. 'Oh my sweet Meg, no, I'm not cross with you…don't cry…don't. You're safe now.'
'Hold me, Nat,' she whimpered, clinging to his shirt and shaking. 'Please hold me…really tight.'
'You hang on to me, hen.' He clutched her so firmly he could hardly feel her deep sobs of delayed shock and terror. 'I'm never going to let you out of my sight again….never.'
She stopped crying and lay back on the cushions once more.
'I thought you weren't coming back,' said Nat, stroking her leg.
'I didn't intend to stay away. I just needed some space…fresh air. What you said, your proposal, it came as a real bolt from the blue. It was too overwhelming. I think I went into shock.'
That makes two of us, he thought.
'As I was lying on the bed at the doctor's, it gave me plenty of time to think about everything. To think about you, and me, and marriage and…oh, Nat I was totally, horribly wrong.'
She put her hand to his neck and coaxed him down to lie on her. He rested his head on the gentle swell of her breast. 'I heard what Rebecca told you, and everything you said,' she said.
'Listening at doors again? It's going to get you into trouble one of these days.'
'I can't help being a nosey beggar. It's in my genes.' She moved her fingers through his hair. 'Oh, sweetheart, I hurt you so much and I don't know what else to say except I'm truly, truly sorry.'
'I'll get over it in a decade or two.' He looked up at her. 'You're here with me now, safe and sound. That's all that matters.'
'I didn't mean to be such a bitch. I wasn't thinking straight.'
'It's alright. I understand why you had your doubts. Why would you want to be lumbered with a useless lump like me for the rest of your life?'
'But that's the whole point, Nat, I do, I really do. I can't think of anything I want more.' She kissed his head and smelled the powder in his hair. 'I really don't care how much you have to use me to lean on. I know you'll do the same for me if I ever need it. It was cruel of me to accuse you of being weak and needy and just wanting to marry me so you would have someone to take care of you. The truth is…I like looking after you.'
'But you were right we can just live together. So long as we are together, we don't have to get married.
'We could…but I don't want to.'
'I don't understand what you are trying to say, Meg.'
'What I am saying is that I wish to exercise my woman's prerogative to change her mind and if you still want to marry me then…I wholeheartedly accept.'
He sat up quickly. 'You do?'
'I do. I want you, heart and soul for the rest of my life.'
'Oh Meg, my darling Meg!' He put her hand to his lips, kissing the palm. 'You've made me so very, very happy.' He held her hand against his face.
'I thought it might,' she said with a smile.
He clambered off the sofa and stood, looking down at her with a shifty smile on his face. 'What?' she said.
'You're so damned exquisite, purple eye and all, and I just want to…' She whooped as he stooped down, wrapped his arms around her and with no effort at all, lifted her clean off the seat. 'You're coming with me, woman.'
She grabbed at his neck for fear of falling. 'What are you doing? Put me down…you'll hurt yourself…'
'Not a chance, you're all mine now.'
'Aren't you supposed to wait until after we're married?'
'I thought we'd get some practice in before then.' He carried her into the hallway, and as they passed the study on the way to the stairs, she sniffed the air.
'What is that horrible smell? It's here…it's on you…it's…' In her mind, the dots suddenly connected and she knew why the smell was so familiar.
Fireworks… gunpowder…
'Stop! Put me down.'
'I'd rather not,' he said, tensing, and kept walking towards the staircase.
'Put me down right now!' She wriggled in his arms and he had to let her down to stand on her own feet. She went directly to the study door and grabbed the handle. It wouldn't budge when she tried to turn it.
'It's locked,' she stated. 'You never lock it. What's going on, Nat?'
'Nothing.'
'Liar! Open this door!'
'No. It…it's…untidy,' he stuttered, 'There's p...papers everywhere…it's a complete mess…'
'Open it!'
'No, Meg…I…I don't want you to go in there.'
'Open the door - now!'
Faced with her hard-eyed insistence, he had no choice but to dig the key from his pocket and unlock the door. With a last look at his downcast face, she went in and put on the light.
He closed his eyes and readied himself, anticipating a yell of horror and stream of oaths, but here was nothing but eerie silence.
After just over a minute she switched off the light, came out of the room and quietly pulled the door closed behind her. Her face had a ghostly pallor and the bruising around her eye stood out livid against the stark paleness.
'I'm sorry, Meg. I didn't want you to see…'
She leaned back against the door, breathing deeply and sucking on her lip. 'Why?' she exhaled, regarding him with eyes swimming with large, wet tears.
He swallowed hard and licked his dry lips. 'I really thought you weren't coming back, that you'd left me…that you'd gone for good. I didn't…I didn't want to be left alone...' His voice trailed off, small and unsteady.
She blinked and the tears fell, so large and heavy they missed her cheeks completely and dropped to the carpet. She held his eyes with her own and he couldn't look away. 'Come here,' she said firmly.
Cautiously, he moved towards her. When he was within her arm's length, she flung herself at him, one arm around his neck in a lock so tight it threatened to choke him. The other scrabbled for any purchase that might enable her to hold him more closely. Her pale cheek pressed cold against his ear. 'You bloody, senseless, foolish man…what are you?'
'I'm so sorry, Meg.'
She released her stranglehold, cradled his face in her hands and kissed him, tenderly but intensely. Saying nothing further, she turned and walked off toward the stairs. He could only stand and watch.
'Where are you going, my love?' he asked, bemused.
She paused on the second step with her hand on the newel post. Slowly, she turned and came back to him, her face unnervingly calm.
'Listen to me very carefully, Nathaniel,' she said, her voice low and serene. 'For I am going to enlighten you to the three things that are going to happen here tonight.' At each point, she flicked out a finger in emphasis. 'First of all, I am going to take a long, hot bath and try very, very hard not to think about what went on in that room today. Secondly, you are going to open that very expensive bottle of wine I know you've been hiding in the back of the larder. And thirdly, and I want you to mind this one well, because it is by far the most important - you are going to make love to me until you beg to be allowed to stop or you die, whichever comes first. Do I make myself perfectly clear?'
He gaped at her, at a loss for words, and he could only bob his head in mute affirmation.
'Good,' she said, and proceeded to climb the stairs. At the half-way point, she called back over her shoulder. 'Are you coming, or do I have to scrub my own back?'
Taking them two at a time he bounded up the stairs after her.
Chapter 41
He greeted a new morning in his own bed, and for the first time in over five years, he was not alone. He kept his eyes closed and reached out his foot towards a nearby source of heat. He touched it gently with his toes. Soft and smooth and solid. A female leg.