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The Tessarae Inn |
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Suspicions In Scarlet Repose CHAPTER 24 Love and physical attraction were not the same thing. She knew that. She honestly felt that each could exist without the other. But when they combined and fused into something more than either alone, it was like riding on the fiery breath of a dragon. It damned your reason to the whims of passion. She wanted her heart to stop beating so fast and she wanted her body to stop quivering and trembling at the sight of him. Neither was cooperating. “I need to talk to you,” he said softly. “I don’t have anything to say to you, Bryan.” “Yeah, well I have something to say to you.” He brushed past her into the apartment. She slowly closed the door and turned and faced him. She told herself to breathe. She demanded that her body relax and that her heart rate return to its within normal parameters. He searched her face and then stared at her with such longing in his eyes that she stepped back from the intensity. What did he want from her? Why was he trying to play with her head? He stepped forward then back and folded his arms over his chest then dropped his hands to his sides. “You didn’t do it, did you?” “Do what?” “Kill Carmen.” “You know I didn’t. You knew that all along.” “No. I…I thought you were just…well, I thought you…” “What are you doing out of jail? You got arraigned already?” “No. The charges, or whatever they were, were dropped or never filed or whatever. I have an alibi, Heather. You didn’t really think I would have done something like that, do you?” What the hell? An alibi? What kind of alibi? The kind you could buy for big bucks and some change? “This stuff has been killing me, Heather.” “Well, it hasn’t exactly been a bowl of cherries for me either and—“ “I know. I know. And I’m sorry about all of that.” “Oh, you’re sorry? Well, as long as you’re sorry then everything is right in the world.” “Look, we’ve wasted enough time. Let’s not fight, okay? You look great by the way.” “Oh, so you don’t want to fight and everything just changes on your whim and—“ He pulled her into his arms so quickly her heart skipped a beat and she forgot to breathe. His fingers felt like points of fire. “I’ve missed you,” he said hoarsely. She tried to think of something to say but he placed his hands on either side of her face and he laced fingers with her hair as he pulled her closer. He kissed her and shifted his body so that any space between them was obliterated. His tongue was demanding and at the same time needy. The exquisite agony of his touch almost drove her insane. He was out of her heart why couldn’t she stop her body from reacting to him this way. He eased his hand under her sweater and touched her bare flesh then he released her and lifted her sweater over her head and tossed it away. He drew her back to him and kissed her again with a probing tongue. It was like fire. She tried to compose herself but it was like flames were engulfing her body. She threw her head back and gasped for air. He reached behind her and unbuckled her bra. In one swift move he pulled her bra away. He stared at her for a second and a deep groan escaped from his lips. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he said then gripped his t-shirt and pulled it over his head and tossed it away. His chest was bare and it was even more exquisite than she remembered. How was that possible? She prayed to whatever deity she could think of to give her the strength to stop what was happening. It was so insane. She touched his chest and fire swept through her body again and she lost all reason. She needed to feel him on her, in her so much that there seemed to be no free will left. He fumbled with the zipper of her skirt and she moved his hand and reached back and unbuttoned the waistband and opened the zipper. She slipped out of the skirt and the half-slip so that all that stood between her and totally nudity was a pair of panties. He locked his gaze on her and she could actually see his breathing becoming labored. Finally, he stepped back and whipped off the rest of his clothes. For a moment, he stood in front of her naked, aroused and powerful. She reached up for him. He moved his fingers between her skin and the thin fabric of the panties and yanked the fabric until it gave way and released her body completely. He framed her body to hers and then lowered her to the floor. She tried to find her voice but then wrapped his arms around her and kissed her with such ferocity his kisses seemed to singe her lips. She was lost in him. Lost in his fire. And in the end all she could do was call his name as he spread her legs and mounted her and rode her passion to an explosion that rocked them both and left her shaken to her core. For a minute he lay on top of her and breathed heavily then rolled off of her and tried to catch his breath. He looked over at her and saw her face then pulled her close to him. “Are you okay?” he asked. “God it’s like I was out of my mind I wanted you so bad but I never meant to… Did I hurt you?” “Yes.” He sat up quickly. “Heather, I’m sorry. I would never do that…” “You hurt me when you pushed me away all those times. You hurt me when you left me sitting in that jail cell. When--” He kissed her gently then said, “I’m sorry but you know why I did that.” She didn’t know anything except that he was her weakness. There was no one else and that thought scared her to death. She looked around for her clothes then got up quickly and gathered them together. “I think you better leave. You got what you wanted. You proved I’m willing to whore myself for you. Please don’t rub my face in it.” “What the hell, Heather?” “Just leave, Bryan.” She ran up the stairs to her bedroom and quickly jumped into the shower. When she came out he was sitting in the chair in her bedroom dressed only in his jeans. Did anyone in this life have a right to look that good? He stood up. “I’m going to take a shower and get dressed then we’re going to talk, Heather. What happened was more than what you said and you know it. We are going to work this out today—not going to wait one minute longer.” She just stared at him until he disappeared into the bathroom. She dressed quickly then went downstairs and picked up the living room. When she finished no one would guess that the man she loved had just nailed her on the floor and taken her to heaven at least twice on a rocket of pleasure so powerful it made her knees weak to think about it. She glanced around the room and involuntarily remembered how it felt when his fingers touched her face and he pulled her toward him and… She had dreamed so many times for so many months about what it would feel like to have him that way again but she had no illusions. He had used her and her need for him. She was not going to let that happen again. An incessant pounding on the front door pulled her back into the present. There was someone at the door. “Heather, please open up. It’s your mother. I have a wonderful surprise for you.” Her mother? Heather glanced around frantically. What was she supposed to do? What had she been doing? Bryan was upstairs and they had just… and now her mother was at the door. This was surreal. “Heather, are you there? Please open up, dear.” “Just a minute,” she said. She quickly glanced in the mirror over the hall table next to the front door and patted down her hair. Could someone look at her and tell what she had just been doing? And when in god’s name had she started to care what other people thought. She swung open the door and then stepped back from the force of the image. Her mother--she still wasn’t use to using that phrase—looked even more glamorous and elegant than she had the day before. Her mother smiled at her and then pecked her on the cheek. “My you look flushed with health today.” Heather felt a wave of embarrassment encircle her. Her mother reached out her hand to the left. “Come along, dear,” she said. Heather was confused. Was she talking to her? Her mother turned to her left and Heather heard sounds of movement then a man came into view. He was young probably in his early or mid twenties. He was dressed in jeans and a rugby shirt. His hair was wavy and he wore glasses. “Heather, this is my son. Your brother.” What? “My what?” Her mother smiled the smile of a woman determined to run roughshod over any objections thrown her way. “Isn’t he a handsome boy? My children are all quite beautiful.” “Cut it out, mother,” her son said. Her mother placed her hand gently on the side of his face. “He’s beautiful but not a boy anymore. He’s a married man with two gorgeous daughters. You’re an aunt, two times over. May we come in, dear?” Heather stumbled back into the room. Her mother and brother strolled in. Heather closed the door and then stared at them. Her brother cleared his throat then walked up to her with an outstretched hand. “My name is Albert Wright. It is nice to meet you, Heather.” “Albert? Wright?” “Well, you can call me AB if you prefer. I have a friend who thinks that’s a better—“ “Albert, please,” his mother said. “I did not name you AB.” Heather glanced at her with wide eyes. “You married again?” “Yes. Albert’s father, God rest his soul, was a book publisher. A wonderful man. He died five years ago. Luckily he lived long enough to see Albert marry the wonderful Rebecca and to get a chance to know his two wonderful granddaughters.” Heather felt as if he head was spinning. She flopped down on the couch. Her mother slipped into a chair across from her. “Albert runs a charity organization.” “A charity organization?” She glanced at Albert. He nodded his head. “Yes, I’m the executive director. We’re dedicated to the eradication of world hunger.” Heather’s mother laughed. “I guess you can tell that my life with Albert’s father was substantially different from the experience I had with your father. My goodness but you suddenly look peaked, sweetheart. I guess this was a lot to drop on you at one time. Maybe I could make us all some tea. Would you like that?” Heather nodded. “Where’s the kitchen?” Heather pointed her toward the kitchen. “It’s to the right down that hall. Her mother smiled at her and then switched her gaze to Albert. “You two need to get to know each other. I’ll be back in a sec.” Her mother rushed out of the room. Albert sat on the couch next to her. “She’s nervous. I know she’s rattling on but she was so determined that I meet you.” “Did you know about me?” “Not until last night. She told me the whole story.” Heather shook her head. “So she never even mentioned me before?” “I don’t think she thought she could.” Heather stood up and began to wring her hands. “So you’re my brother?” “Half brother but yes.” What the hell was going on here? None of this was making any sense. “What do you want from me? Are you here about your charity? Do you think I could make a big contribution or something?” “No. This isn’t about money.” “Good because I don’t have any money.” “Do you need some? I could loan you some.” Heather stared at him for a second then she started laughing. She laughed so hard tears streamed down her face. He stood up and walked over to her. He touched her hand gently and then led her back to the couch. “I know this all seems crazy but this isn’t about money,” Albert said as he slipped next to her again. “If anything, it’s about redemption. My father was actually our mother’s third husband. Her second husband, Conrad Moore, was quite wealthy. He died a year or so after they married and left her a very, very wealthy woman.” “She’s rich.” “Very” “Then you’re rich.” “I guess you could say that I was a trust fund baby but I didn’t know it. My mother didn’t tell me about my biological father until a couple of years ago. My father, the father who raised me, was a very down to earth man. He taught me to value compassion and kindness above all else. I grew up in a modest house with a white picket fence on a cul de sac in the suburbs. My first car was ten years old and used. I was president of the environmental studies club and played in the band. I attended a state university on an merit scholarship.” “My first car was a Porsche. And I’ve never actually seen a house with a white picket fence around it.” He laughed. “You actually have two children?” “Oh, yes.” He reached for his wallet and pulled out an accordion picture file. “This is Maree, she’s seven, and this is Rachel, she’s six.” Heather stared at them. They looked like twins and were both so beautiful— curly brown hair, with a matching set of soft brown eyes and pearl white smiles. For a moment, a swell of emotion choked her. Would Pumpkin be this beautiful? “They’re lovely,” she managed to say finally. Albert beamed at her and then pointed to another picture. “And here’s their mother. Rebecca.” Heather studied the picture. It was obvious where the Maree and Rachel got their looks. She had a brother—half brother on her mother’s side who had a beautiful wife and two beautiful children. How weird was life? A day ago Robyn and the promise of Pumpkin were it—now her family seemed to be bursting at the seams. Her mother reappeared carrying a tray loaded with a teapot, cups, saucers and so on. She stopped when she saw that she and Albert were sitting on the couch next to each other looking at pictures. She seemed to get misty eyed but then smiled broadly. A loud pulsating sound ricocheted around the room. Someone was pounding on the door. “Open. The. Damn. Door.” Heather’s stomach flipped when she recognized the voice but before she could respond the door burst open with a bang. Suddenly her father was in the room. He let his gaze rocket around the room, pausing briefly on each of them and then locked on her mother. “Angela,” Carl said. “You are one hard woman to find.” “Only when you’re looking for me.” Albert stood up but Angela waved him back down with a stern expression on her face then walked close to the couch. “Well, luckily I had a little help this time,” Carl said and glanced at Heather. “MY daughter called me all the way from London damn England to tell me you had resurfaced like some kind of resistant strain of bacteria.” Angela set the tray on the coffee table and began to place the cups on the saucers. She glanced over at Carl. “Would you like to join us for tea?” Carl stared at her. “I see time has been kind. What’s it been? Twenty… twenty-two years?” “Close enough.” “I hear you killed your third husband like your second. Two out of three ain’t bad. Pretty damn lethal.” Albert stood up. “Excuse me, but I don’t like your attitude or your tone.” Carl appraised him coolly. “Who are you? Heather’s latest boy toy?” Angela poured a cup of tea and handed the cup to Heather. “Carl, that is my son Albert Wright. Albert, that is my never lamented first husband, Carl Shuttlesworth, and Heather’s father.” “Oh,” said Albert. He hesitated and then stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you.” “Like hell it is.” Carl stepped around him. “Angela we need to talk. I suggest we do it on the way to the airport. I’ve made a reservation and purchased a ticket for you to make it as easy as possible to get the hell out of town and away from my daughters.” Angela poured another cup of tea then placed on the coffee table in front of where Albert had been sitting. “Come have some tea, Albert.” “Are you listening to me?” Carl bellowed. Angela poured yet another cup of tea then sat down in the chair that was behind her and crossed her legs. She took a sip of tea. “Will Robyn be here soon, Carl?” Carl stepped back, grabbed the door and slammed it shut. “How do you want to do this, Angela? How do you want to play it? Want to take off the gloves with the children in the room?” “Actually, I would prefer not to do this at all. Why don’t you just crawl back into your little hole and practice your hissing.” “You, not me, abandoned your children. You left your daughters to spread your legs for some old goat who had more money than sense. Never called, wrote or visited. You don’t get to play the martyr here.” “You were always so good at revising history to suit your purposes, Carl. And here you are doing it once again. I didn’t leave. You threw me away. And I bet you never told Heather or Robyn about how I came back for them and you had me arrested.” “I was not the one who stole that painting.” “Neither was I and you damn well know it. It’s in your vault somewhere gathering dust.” “Nice theory but the court didn’t see it that way.” “The court saw it any way your money told them to see it.” Heather felt herself sinking into a well of inky blackness. Her stomach was rolling and her head felt like a balloon about to burst. She leaned over and suddenly was falling into empty space. “Are you all right, Heather?” It was her mother. “No, please leave,” she managed to mutter. “Would all of you just please leave.” “She looks green,” said Albert. “Get away from my daughter,” yelled Carl. “YOUR daughter. Your daughter. It’s always about ownership and property. She’s my daughter too.” “The hell she is.” Albert jumped up and walked directly in front of Carl. “Stop talking to my mother that way. No wonder she got as far away from you as she could.” “Son, you don’t know one real thing about that slut.” “Listen, old man, you do not under any circumstances talk to my mother that way again. Is that understood? Or I’ll--” “Old? That the best you can do? I guess to a wet behind the ears wimpy, mommy’s boy like you, any real man seems threatening. I’m just shaking in my boots waiting to see what you’re going to do when I call that slut a slut again.” “STOP it,” yelled Heather. “Please, just stop it. You’re hurting the baby. Please just go away.” “Baby?” It was a single voice and Heather groaned when she realized it was not Angela, Carl or Albert. He walked over to the couch. “You’re pregnant?” “What the hell is he doing here?” Carl yelled. “You’re Bryan Treyscott,” Albert said and smiled. “The quarterback for The Tornadoes!” His smile quickly faded and he narrowed his eyes. “You’re the one who let Heather sit in that jail cell when you knew she didn’t do it.” Treyscott ignored Albert and focused his gaze directly on Heather’s face. “You’re pregnant? Is it mine?” “No,” screamed Heather. “It is not yours. Now, all of you go away.” “Were you even going to tell me?” “Why should I?” Carl moved next to Treyscott. “Are you really pregnant, Number One? Got Treyscott’s bun in your oven? Damn. Now ain’t that some stupid shit.” “Shut up, Daddy Carl,” hissed Treyscott. He looked at Heather again. “You were going to lie to me. You weren’t going to tell me?” “A man has a right to know his children,” Carl said and put his hand on Treyscott’s shoulder. “What you were about to do to this boy here was just flat out wrong.” Angela moved behind the couch and put her hand on Heather’s shoulder. “You let my daughter take the fall for you, Mr. Treyscott,” she said. “I think that shows everyone what kind of man you are. I think you should follow my daughters wishes and stay away from her.” Carl glared at Angela. “No real man stays away from his children.” He switched his gaze to Heather. “You screwed up big time this time, Number One. You’re going to have that loser stuck to your life from now on--forever.” Heather jumped up and screamed, “It is my body. My life. My child. None of you have anything to say about that.” “I have rights, Heather,” Treyscott yelled. “There is no way I am going to let you keep me away from my child.” “He’s got you there, Heather,” Carl said and then smirked. “Got you there and I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell him.” Angela moved quickly from behind the couch and jumped in Carl’s face. “Why should she? I wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t tell a man like you that I had a child on the way. A greedy bastard like you. I’d take my child and run.” For a split second, there was no sound in the room except the ticking of the clock in the hallway. Slowly as if on cue, Carl turned and looked at Albert.
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Suspicions In Scarlet Repose FAN FICTION SLIDESHOWS
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