14 comments/ 32525 views/ 26 favorites The Water Nymph Ch. 01 By: beatrice_dreams © 2012 - All rights reserved This story has been posted exclusively to Literotica.com by the author and copyright holder, Beatrice Dreams. If you are reading this story on any website other than Literotica.com, this story has been illegally copied and used without permission. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Apparently there was something wrong with the alternator. All Sarah knew was that she'd been driving along the back roads of the small town she'd grown up in. It had been years since she'd been back, but the route still felt familiar, like something from a recurring dream. Without warning the car began to die and she'd coasted to a stop, just managing to park it on the gravel shoulder. There were no other cars coming in either direction and she was miles away from the closest farm. Damn. Cell phone reception was non-existent and after a fruitless survey under the hood at the inexplicable tangle of wires, tubes and fans, she admitted defeat and took up vigil leaning against the front bumper. She was contemplating how many miles she would be able to manage walking in her flimsy summer sandals when she heard the approaching sound of an engine from behind her. A worn-looking pickup pulled up and parked in front of her. When the driver emerged, it took her some seconds to place the strangely familiar features. Recognition dawned on her. It was Will. Lanky, silent, dark and mysterious Will. But he wasn't so lanky now. He'd filled out in the years since she'd last seen him and the dark silence now held a quiet strength she didn't remember from when she was an awkward teenager, covertly sneaking glimpses of him whenever she could. He didn't say much, but after a cursory look at the engine and an attempt to restart the battery with the jumper cables in her trunk, it became obvious it was a job for a mechanic. He brought the cables back around to the trunk of her car, tucking them away neatly. She noticed how his dark hair still fell across his forehead, shading his eyes. He had always had a long slim face, but all the boyishness was gone now and the muscle that twitched in his jaw was definitely that of a man. He was too quiet. Had she done the wrong thing? Was he angry? He looked away from her in order to close the trunk of her car, dropping it firmly into place with a clunk. His hands still resting on the vehicle, he turned back to her with a clear steady look. Pushing away from the car, he walked over to the passenger door of his truck and opened it. "You're coming with me." It wasn't a command, really. More a statement of fact. She decided that he wasn't angry, but there was intensity in his eyes -- tightness around his mouth which kept her from speaking. An inexplicable heat hit her somewhere in the midriff and she felt like hiding her cheeks which seemed flushed and hot. Mute, she walked around the truck and got in. He followed her. She continued to stare at him as he leaned on her door. He watched her nervously straighten her skirt, settle her purse and look for the belt, then the door was closed for her with a firm thump. Gravel crunched underfoot as he made his way around the back of the truck. She watched him in the rear-view mirrors, catching her breath slightly as he opened his door. She felt an unexpected shyness come over her and she tried to look anywhere but at him. He angled himself into the driver seat, checking that her belt was fastened before clipping his own into place, turned the ignition and reversed back into the road, his arm on her seat's headrest. They drove in silence for several miles. He eventually moved his arm away to change gears, but she wasn't sure if she felt relieved or bereft. She stole occasional glances at him, but he kept his gaze on the road ahead of them. She thought that she should try to make conversation, after all, that's what old acquaintances do, right? She nearly started to speak several times, but the deep quiet in his demeanour kept her from doing more than opening her mouth and closing it again. Eventually they turned off onto a narrower road before turning again -- this time onto a gravelled lane. Trees lined the track, leaves flickering back to them the low sun of a summer afternoon. Behind the trees, old fence posts still stood, holding up remains of a wire fence overgrown with briars and vines. The old house came into view around the bend. Pulling up next to the wide, low porch he turned off the ignition. He sat back for a moment, a hand on each knee before looking over at her, his eyes low, briefly catching her gaze. He finally spoke. "Do you remember the house?" "I'm not sure," she replied, but her voice caught in her throat and barely made it out as a whisper. She tried again. "There was a Halloween party once. Did your Dad have a hay wagon that he drove around for the kids?" He nodded. "Yeah, that was the one year we invited the school over. Some of the older boys smashed the pumpkins my mother carved so we never did a party like that again." He opened his door, and turning back to her he looked as if he would say something more, then he turned away from her and got out. She didn't wait for him to open her door -- slowing climbing out of her side of the truck, taking in the wildflower gardens along the front steps and the wind chimes softly plinking in the summer afternoon air. They didn't look neglected. It was different than she remembered. Not smaller, as she expected, but the house was somehow softer -- faded. The trees felt much taller but for a moment she was 11 years old again. Snatches of memories. The homemade fairy wings bouncing against her slim shoulder blades. The scent of dry leaves and bonfire. The taste of candy corn. Feeling his presence behind her, she turned, startled by the intensity of her dreaming and looked up into his face. His expression was unreadable, dark. His glance drifting over her face and then back to her eyes. She wondered if he was remembering too. But would he have remembered her? "You'll come inside." Again with the strange statement of fact. The Water Nymph Ch. 02 © 2012 - All rights reserved This story has been posted exclusively to Literotica.com by the author and copyright holder, Beatrice Dreams. If you are reading this story on any website other than Literotica.com, this story has been illegally copied and used without permission. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Closing the wide front door behind them, he watched her as she moved into the hall. She turned to look up the old curved staircase, her hands smoothing the time-worn wood of the bottom post. "I thought you were taking me home," she said, turning to face him. He didn't answer her question, instead said, "I came back here after my parents moved down south. They left me the house." "So you live here all alone then?" "Pretty much." "For how long?" "Sorry?" "I mean how long have you been living here by yourself?" He shrugged. "A year I guess, maybe more..." He moved towards her. Placing a hand under her elbow he began to climb with her up the deep staircase. Her attention was captured entirely by the strength of the fingers circling her arm, the muscular arm brushing her shoulder. There were smaller rooms down a hallway to the left. He turned to the right and took her through an open door. The room beyond was surprisingly large, with the high ceiling made up of the roof beams forming a peak down the centre. Large paned windows on each side gave the room a feeling of spacious calm and light. Dust flecks slowly drifted in the late afternoon sunbeams gleaming through the western window. Along the wall on the opposite side she was surprised to see long, low bookshelves full of a variety of literature, and a large drawing desk with a view out onto the back fields and the row of old oaks. A drawing desk. She felt a memory slip through of a much younger Will with an ever-present sketchbook. There were a few other pieces of furniture -- a small table with a comfortable armed chair where it looked as if he ate his meals. A sofa facing a small television took up the corner to the right. Against the far wall in the middle stood a large antique bedstead, neatly made. "There's beautiful light in here," she said, walking towards the drawing desk to take in the view over the fields. When she turned again to look at him she realised that his attention had not moved from her. She tried a light-hearted tone to break his intensity. "What are you looking at?" He didn't reply, but slid a hand over his face, looking for a moment unsure of why he had brought her here. Finally, he moved towards the sunset window, his back to her. His voice was low, but audible. "What brings you back here then? You're the last person I expected to see stranded on the roadside." For a moment, she forgot to reply, almost oblivious to his question. Her concentration was drawn to his silhouette against the sunlit window. So different than she remembered, but still so familiar in the way he moved, how he brushed the hair out of his eyes. Finding her voice, she replied, "My Mom. She said I needed to get out of the city for a while and insisted I come back home for a few weeks," she said. Laughing nervously she added, "She probably worries that I'll never settle down and have babies." The sound of his soft chuckle produced an instant pang of regret at the confession. He turned around, leaning his hip against the window frame, his arms crossed in front of him. Looking at her...again with that steady clear gaze. "When I saw you there on the road, I nearly didn't stop," he admitted. Rubbing his chin he continued, "I don't even know why I've brought you back here. Or to my room. No idea. You must think I've gone mad since we last met...or creepy at least." He looked down, scuffing a foot against the old smooth planking. "But I just saw you there and 10 years of wanting something just took me over, and here we are." 10 years? Of wanting what, she thought. 10 years ago she was 18 and heading off for university with a journalism scholarship. She'd naturally hung out with the other high school kids her own age, and while she'd occasionally seen him in town, he'd never come to the parties or bonfires of that last summer. Her silence seemed to worry him. He pushed away from the window and made his way in some agitation to the desk, desperate for something to occupy his hands. Settling for rearranging the rulers and instruments in unnecessary neatness, he finally turned and blurted, "I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking. I'll take you into town for a mechanic -- we can call one from here so he knows where to pick up your car." Sensing his increasing unease she moved closer to him, putting a hand on his arm and trying to catch his eye. "I don't understand. Have I done something wrong? What is it you wanted?" Strong hands swiftly circled her arms. She was pulled towards him, pressed against his chest. Her lips were slightly parted with surprise, and she found that his gaze was firmly fixed on them. She could feel the quick rise and fall of his chest. A hand released an arm and slid behind her neck, and then his mouth was pressing hot and hard against hers. Insistent and searching, it turned her shock into a wave of heat. The other arm wrapped around her waist to pull her closer, her softness moulded against him. She felt like she was falling, her mind fuzzy, conscious only of his mouth on hers. Suddenly she was thrust away from him. Breathing hard he growled as he stalked to the window, "I knew this was a mistake. What was I thinking??" Still muddled, she stared at him dumbly. Her head gradually clearing, she felt a surge of anger bubble up. She followed him, pulling at his shoulder, forcing him to look at her. "What were you talking about? What was 10 years ago? How can you just treat a girl like that and then push her away?" she demanded. Rubbing at his eyes he muttered a few incoherent words before taking a deep breath. He once again turned the clear gaze on her. "It was the last time I saw you. You probably didn't see me. I don't think you ever saw me, but who cares about that, right?" He paused. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "When I saw you today I realised I'd been waiting for you. 10 years waiting for you. As for the rest of it," he gestured aimlessly with his hands, "I've not really been thinking much." Her confusion apparent now, she turned to look out the window, leaning against its sturdy, comforting frame for support. "But you didn't really know me back then. I mean, you didn't even know I existed. It was me that would always watch you-..." She stopped suddenly, realising what she was admitting. "I mean...I didn't realise..." She stopped, unable to think of what more to say. She turned her face away, missing the veiled look of surprise that flickered across his face. "But I was...am...what, 7 or 8 years older than you? You were in with all the kids your own age. Why would you have been interested?" He stopped, perplexed. "So what are you saying? You had a thing for me when I was 18?" she retorted. "A thing? Huh. I guess you could call it that." He lifted his hand near her hair, as if to stroke it. "You used to straighten your hair then. You have curls again. Like when you were little. I like the curls better." Self-conscious, she put a hand to her hair and turned away, walking across the room. Unsure what to do next she waited for his next move. "I didn't bring you back here to seduce you, you know. I just saw you, and needed to bring you here. Show you where I am now." He moved towards her, some of his confidence and quietness returning. "Or maybe you called to me, I don't know. I didn't even need to be driving out there today, I just felt like driving, and there you were. Pale hair drifting in the breeze, just like I remember." He was now standing in front of her, close. He searched her eyes. She looked away, suddenly shy. He reached up and brushed her hot cheek gently with the back of his hand. Then he was taking her chin, his thumb rubbing softly along her bottom lip. The falling sensation began again in earnest, and complete thoughts were having difficulty staying in her mind. Before she could step away he was backing her up gently. She felt one of the tall sturdy posts of the bed against her back, and his body closed in against her. Again her mouth was possessed, at first tentatively, then in an increasingly leisurely exploration. His tongue flicked gently against the corner of her mouth, then pressed further in to take hers. She couldn't resist it. Resist him. His heat, his mouth, his body on hers. He eventually broke the kiss, moving his attention to her neck, suckling gently below her ear. "So you watched me, huh? I knew you followed me that Halloween like a little puppy dog but I thought you grew out of that." Pushing against his chest she tried to clear her incoherent thoughts. "Don't mock me, Will, what are you getting at anyway? You never showed any interest in me." "I don't think I knew what I wanted back then. But somehow you were always flitting in an out of my mind. For years." "Even when I was 11??" "No, no...not like that. You were just my little shadow that day. But you got bored with that game. It was later...when you were older." Incredulous, she pushed at his chest again, trying to get some air. "But boys never noticed me. I wasn't one of those sorts of girls. I'm still not," she protested. He regarded her for a moment. "I noticed you." Defying her half-hearted attempts to increase the distance between them, he held her still. "I always noticed you. Whether I wanted to or not. And now here you are." Looking into her eyes, he waited. Waited for her to protest. She fought against herself, trying to tell herself that he was just making fun. That he didn't mean it. That it was all a big laugh to him. She shifted against him, trying to extricate herself from his grasp. When he sucked in a sharp breath she looked up at him in surprise. His wince turned into a wry smile. "Careful. You're causing some...issues." Now she too was aware of a certain hardness pressing against her hip. That was the last straw. It was all too much and she made one last break for it, struggling from between him and the bedpost, shooting over to behind the sofa, breathing hard, holding onto the back of the seat for dear life. Furious now, she couldn't help the rush of words. "Have you been trapped out here so long you'll ravage anything female that you pick up along the road?" She was livid, shame at her weakness in giving into him so easily churning in the pit of her stomach. She looked around, trying to remember where she left her purse. Snatching it from the table she was out the door and at the stairs before he had a chance to speak. "Sarah wait. Wait, please. It's not like that...not like that at all. Come back here..." Something in his voice made her pause, hand on the stair railing, poised to escape. It wasn't teasing anymore. If anything, she heard some reflection of pain. Some deep loneliness. "And besides. How do you plan to get anywhere? You don't have a car." Ok. And maybe a bit of arrogance too. She turned to look back into his studio room. He hadn't moved. He just stood there, looking at her. Her flight forgotten, she returned to the doorway, waited. He spoke first. "You must think I'm such an idiot." "No...No. It's just all a bit fast I guess. One minute I'm waiting by my car and then I'm here and you're...we're..." "You think I have any idea what's going on? I'm a bit lost here too, you know." He slumped back onto the bed, raising his eyes to meet hers. "All I know is that I saw you and just felt you should be here and I should be here and who knows what should happen. But then I needed to kiss you and I couldn't stop myself, and it all got a bit confusing." He went back to his face rubbing exercise. After a few moments of silence he spoke again, his voice calmer. "Would you take a walk with me? Outside?" Part of her wanted to leave. Immediately. Part of her wanted desperately to stay. The part that wanted to stay, won. "Okay. But not too far," she conceded. "These aren't exactly great shoes for hiking in," she explained, pointing at the offending footwear. There was a path along the oaks at the back of the house. They walked in silence, following the old fence line where animals used to graze. They walked side by side, close, but at a slightly wary distance from each other. "There's a pond down here," he said, pointing through some old leaning cedars further on. "I remember that I think. We weren't allowed near it. My mom was always terrified of drownings," she replied. She heard a soft chuckle, and she turned in time to see the smile twitching the corners of his mouth. "Ah, so he does smile," she said triumphantly. The Water Nymph Ch. 03 The pond was large -- nearly a small lake - and was ringed by more of the leaning cedars, their reflections long and dark on the surface of the water. A screened gazebo-style boathouse perched next to a floating dock, complete with rowboat. It was very still, the only sounds she could hear were the far-off call of a bird and the gentle clunking of the metal boat against its moorings. He unlatched the gazebo door, and she followed him in, surprised to see low, tidy cushioned benches on three walls facing the shining water. Another door opened onto a small deck. She went to the far side to admire the view. "This is a beautiful place, " she said quietly. "I like to come down here," he replied. "The breeze is always cool when it's blazing hot everywhere else." He went silent, and they both stood, listening to low sounds of the water lapping against the pier. His reflection deepened and he went still. "So who hurt you, then? Hurt you so badly you don't believe me?" She regarded him silently. After a few moments she spoke, her voice cracking slightly, "I dunno really. I just got so used to being invisible to people. Like I didn't exist. It's different in the city though -- I feel like I'm somebody there. But then I don't feel like they really know me either." "Well, all I remember of you was that you liked things with wings. Fairies. Birds. Butterflies. I figured someday you'd just sprout wings and fly away too." She blinked at this. Surprised by the sharp prick of tears in the corner of her eyes. She'd only just met him again. They never really knew each other. How could this...man...move her to tears without even trying? "Maybe...maybe that's what's I wanted. Maybe that's what I did. Going to the city and all," she finally said. When she looked up again, he was close, looking down into her eyes in that inescapable way. Gently, he smoothed the dampness from under her eyes. His fingers stroked her hair, drifted to a shoulder. She felt his warm hands slide down her ribcage, kneading her waist gently, insistently, then smoothing down to her backside, scooping her against him. Her eyes closed, a soft gasp coming from her lips. "No, look at me. Come, look at me," he said, tilting her chin back up and her eyes to meet his. "If you want to fly away...run away...now's the time to do it," he stated, his voice low. She thought his breathing sounded ragged. He was obviously trying to maintain control, but a control that could break any moment. She shook her head, mutely. She felt herself being turned, her back pushed up against the wide post of the gazebo wall this time. The mouth that pressed down on hers was not hesitant, but took mercilessly from her. The heat washed over her in an endless deep lake of aching waves. Her arms went up around his neck, her back arching as he lifted her up against him, his hips pressing insistently against hers. She felt herself slowly slide back down until her feet were flat on the floor, her breath catching as he groaned softly at the movement. Her awareness of the situation was fluctuated wildly between the overwhelming sensations and snatches of memories of years-ago dreams -- dreams of what this would be like. It had been so long since she had let the thoughts into her mind, but to have the real thing here -- happening, now. It was so different. The real Will's mouth against hers, the real Will's hands touching her. She wondered when she would wake up. She broke the kiss, leaning her head back to try to look into his eyes, searching them for answers. He stared back at her, his pupils wide and dark and his breathing coming fast and irregular. "Let's do this properly, huh?" he said huskily, answering her unspoken question. He took her hands and tugged her over to the cushioned benches, sitting back and pulling her to stand in front of him between his legs. He stayed still for a moment, just looking at her. Even with him sitting down she noticed that they were nearly equal in height. "You are very beautiful, you know," he stated quietly. She wondered how she must look to him -- hair out of place, cheeks flushed and lips nearly raw from his kisses. Wanton and a little wild -- so different from her usual reserve. She tried to tidy her hair, but he grabbed both hands again, shaking his head. "No, you look much better this way." He pulled her closer, his eyes drifting to the place where her light cotton blouse was buttoned. She felt one steely arm pull at her waist as he slowly began to undo the buttons with his other hand. One by one the traitorous buttons parted. After what felt like an eternity he reached the last one, baring the lacy white of her bra, pushing the edges of her blouse back so that he could have a better view. She watched mutely as she felt him tug at the light material covering one breast and gasped as the feeling of cool air against her naked skin was replaced by the wet heat of his mouth. He suckled gently at first, then his tongue was rubbing insistently against her nipple, circling it and sending sharp tugging pleasure through her middle. Before she could protest he bared the other breast, licking and sucking until she felt her legs begin to buckle beneath her. She clasped her hand against his as it gently kneaded the throbbing breast he had left behind, desperate for his touch on her bare skin. She whimpered when he pushed her away from him slightly. Did he not want to do this? Did he not want her? But her fears were silenced as he pulled her back towards him again. She felt the rough denim of his legs part her knees and his hands pulling her up to straddle his lap, her sandals slipping off to the floor. Tugging at the back of each knee, he pulled them until she was kneeling over him, their hips pressed together so intimately she could barely breathe. Scooping his hands under her backside he rocked her gently against himself. Hot white fire sprang up behind her eyelids and she found herself arching her back, moaning as she moved against him. His hands gripped hips, slowing her movements. He gasped, "Careful there...you don't know your own strength." He captured her lips in a long, sensuous kiss. Her hips tried desperately to move against his, the need to feel him between her legs filling her whole body. "Okay, okay," he groaned against her mouth, rising up, sliding her off his lap. He caught her at the last minute as she nearly collapsed into a puddle on the ground. "When did you get to be such a little tease??" he panted. "I'm going to have to do something about you." She was no longer conscious of anything other than the heat of his presence and the desire to touch him. He slid the bench cushions down to the floor of the boathouse and pulled her down on top of him. Her body strained against his as he took her mouth in another mind-numbing kiss. She felt his hands caress her legs, sliding under the light fabric of her skirt, kneading the softness of her thighs. Fingers stroking along the line of her underwear, forcing their way past the barrier and finding the wet heat at her centre. She cried out as she felt his fingers slide inside her and she bucked against his hand. Then his hand was gone and he was rolling on top of her with a groan, his hands frantically working at his belt and pants, tugging her underwear down her legs. For a brief moment he braced himself above her, looking deeply into her eyes, his breathing fast and ragged. "Am I crushing you?" he asked, concerned. "No, no...please..." "Please what?" She wriggled against him, unable to answer, the tension unbearable. Her need to have him inside her overwhelming everything. "You want this, don't you?" he whispered. She could only nod mutely, beseeching him to continue. He thrust deeply into her - violently, wildly. She wrapped herself around him, crying out, moaning as he filled her completely. She couldn't say how long it went on for, lost to everything but the deep shooting pleasure and the heat of him entering her and inside her. He shifted his weight, angling her hips, and she was surprised to feel an added stab of sensation begin to build at her core. He slowed the rhythm of his movements slightly, and when he sensed her growing pleasure he began thrusting against her in earnest, each movement growing in intensity. She reached the precipice, the intensity of pleasure centred where their two bodies joined and plunged over the brink with him as he pushed inside her with one last deep groan. The Water Nymph Ch. 04 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * This is a continuous story, so I recommend reading the previous chapters so you have some background of the characters (don't worry - the chapters are very short!). Thank you to everyone who has given me feedback and encouragement on the first three chapters so far. Over to Will and Sarah...in the gazebo/boathouse... x bd * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Time did not seem to enter their throbbing world of pleasure. Gradually, Sarah became aware of his weight on her, constricting her breathing. When she made an attempt to move he rolled onto his side, still holding her tightly. She tucked her head down against his chest, unwilling to meet his eyes, trying to comprehend what had just happened between them. It was as if she were someone else, in someone else's body. What had she just done? What had she just let him do? Willingly let him. Asked for it, no...begged for it. Did he think she did this with every guy that picked her up? She'd always kept boys...men...at a distance. Always. Except this one. The part of her that fought for the answer to this finally gave in to the overwhelming desire to escape into the warmth and strength enveloping her. She listened to his heartbeat as it slowed along with hers. When he finally spoke, she heard the words rumble up from deep in his chest. "Wow." He said, softly. He tried his best to get her to look at him. "You okay?" he asked, concerned by her silence. "Hm." "Come. Look at me..." he persisted, smoothing the hair from her forehead. His eyes searched hers, a slight pinch of concern showing in his face. Clear blue eyes gazing back into dark, bottomless ones. She noticed for the first time how long his eyelashes were, though fine. And one of his eyebrows was uneven at one end with a small curved scar. She wondered for a moment what had caused the injury... "Did I hurt you?" He persisted, worried. She shook her head, mute. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely audible. "No, no...I'm fine." "Then what's the matter? You're... quiet." She tried to look away, embarrassment creeping in as flashes of how she'd behaved just moments before came back to her; wild and without her well-constructed fortress of inhibitions. She felt him become still and looked up in time to see his face go slightly pale as what they'd done also dawned on him. "I never even thought to ask...shit!" he swore. She looked at him in confusion. "Me...you...us...just now? I didn't use anything...didn't even think to..." He broke off, rubbing his hands over his face as he rolled onto his back. Still unsure where he was headed with this she endeavoured to reassure him. "I'm on the pill, it's okay... really." He visibly relaxed at this, throwing an arm up to cover his eyes and letting out a deep, relieved breath. She carried on, self-conscious, "Well, I'm on it for medical reasons...not for...for..." she gestured, trying to find the words to describe what they'd just done. "I get bad pain sometimes, it's nothing..." She stopped, deciding whether to continue. She forced herself to say it. "Will, I've never done this before..." He turned his head and regarded her silently for a few moments, trying to read her expression. "Well, this isn't exactly something I do every day either," he said carefully, "But I just can't seem to take it slow with you," he added, attempting a smile. She felt the blood rush to her face. She turned away from him again, mortified, attempting to regain some semblance of modesty by fumbling at the buttons on her gaping blouse. Maybe he didn't get it. She tried again to explain. "No, Will. I mean I've never done...this...before." Again, she gestured at the both of them and then at the cushions where they had so recently shared such intimacy. She sensed rather than saw him go still next to her. When she looked over at him, he was staring at her, incredulous. "You mean you've never...never been with anyone before?" He paused, stunned. "But you're a...a grown woman! I mean..." he halted, disbelief clouding his features. He swiped a hand over his eyes. She buried her face in her skirt, humiliation flooding through her. "I told you...I've never been one of those kind of girls..." she whispered, hopelessly. After a moment he was on his feet, pulling his pants back into place and tucking in his shirt with swift jerky movements. Then he was gone, the door banging behind him. She flinched at the sound as if she'd been slapped. Fighting back tears, she went in search of the underwear he'd so easily removed from her just minutes before. She couldn't understand his reaction. As she dressed, questions bombarded her from all sides. What had she done wrong? How could he act like he wanted her one minute, and in the next breath, abandon her? She was startled out of her thoughts as he came back through the door. His face was stony. Thunderous. He held the door open and gestured towards it. "Come on. I'm taking you back to your mother's place." "But I don't understand..." she said. "I need to take you home," he replied, his tone non-negotiable. "Now." He stood, waiting for her, unmoving. Fastening the last of her buttons and trying desperately to slip into her shoes, she stumbled out the door and stood waiting for him for a second, uncertain. When he reached her she found herself propelled up and along the path towards the house, his hand firmly grasping her elbow. "I'm sorry, I just don't understand...what's wrong?" she said, almost pleading. Met only with stony silence, she gave into his forceful grip. It was all she could do to keep up with his long strides. He didn't take her up to the house, instead headed straight to his truck. Again, the passenger door was opened for her. Again she climbed in, warily, without a word from him and the door was shut for her. Instead of the electric thrill she had felt earlier that afternoon, her heart now felt like lead in her chest, aching. She waited in silence as he disappeared into the house. He took several minutes to return. When he slid into the driver's seat, he had her purse in his hand. She accepted it from him wordlessly, fastening her seatbelt. When he did speak, his voice was flat and emotionless. Controlled. "I've called a mechanic in town. He's a friend of mine. He'll pick up your car tonight and see what he can do." She nodded, mutely. Grateful for his thoughtfulness, but fighting desperately not to give in to the painful pinch of tears forming behind her eyes. The drive into town felt like an eternity. Relief was her first feeling when they finally turned onto her street. The truck pulled up to the curb outside her mother's bungalow. He turned off the engine but didn't make a move to get out. He glanced up at her briefly, his face still unreadable. "Get on inside, then," he said quietly. Seeing that talk was futile, she climbed out silently, only just resisting the urge the slam the door behind her. * * * * * * * * * * Will continued to watch Sarah as she made her way to the side door of her mother's house. "Come on, go inside," he said under his breath, as she paused for a moment and looked back at him. Then she was gone, with one last flash of pale hair. God, that hair. It smelled like heaven. He rubbed his hands over his face several times, trying without success to shake the oppressive stone-like feeling in his chest. Shit. Shit, shit and shit. How had he let this happen? How could he have been so dumb? He went to slam his palm against the steering wheel but caught himself. This was not the way things were meant to go. He'd handled it badly. Handled the whole thing badly. He pulled the truck away from the curb, still cursing. After all those years he'd had a chance to do things right. If she was telling the truth, which he supposed she was, he could have been her first. But what had happened between them in the boathouse was no first. It was just raw and rough and not what you want to do with a girl on her first time. He didn't know what made him madder, the fact she'd not really given him the choice, or that he shouldn't have rushed into the whole damn thing in the first place. He'd wanted to talk to her but just couldn't fight past himself far enough to get the words out. He remembered how young and vulnerable she'd looked when she told him. Shit. On autopilot, he headed towards the far side of town. He knew there was no point - it had been barely half an hour since he called Jake, but at least checking in on her vehicle gave him something to do. A new thought struck him. Dammit, he'd forgotten to ask her for the keys. Jake could probably tow the car no problem, but working on it might prove difficult without them. He'd just have to go back for them tomorrow. There was no way he was facing her again today. He found Jake where he always found him - buried from the waist up in a greasy car engine. It was after hours now, and they were alone in the cluttered double garage that Jake lovingly called his 'office'. Jake emerged long enough to recognise his long-time friend before retreating back under the hood. "So you're into rescuing damsels in distress now?" Jake asked, his voice muffled in a cloud of ratchet noise but his amusement evident. "I've been trying to work a miracle on this old pile of junk -- I'll run out and pick up her car in a bit." Getting nothing but silence in reply he popped his head out. Will leaned against one of the other cars, silent and brooding, hand tapping against his leg in agitation. "You look like hell, Will," Jake observed, slightly curious. Wiping his hands on a long-blackened rag, he walked around the car and gave Will a hefty clap on the back. "Surely you're not being harassed by some slip of a girl?" Will responded to this with a wry half-smile, appreciating Jake's ability to draw him out of his reverie. "No, no...nothing like that." But the thought only brought him back to what she'd said. Being a virgin at twenty-eight was a pretty damn huge piece of news she'd conveniently kept to herself until it was far too late. With that sort of track record he wondered what else she hadn't bothered to fill him in on. He began to pace, running his hands through his hair, then stopped himself, realising the futility of his train of thought. "I'm sorry Jake, I'm just gonna go. Are you sure you're okay towing the car on your own?" he queried, rubbing his eyes. Jake was back under the hood, and after receiving an affirmative grunt from the depths of the engine, Will headed to the door, with a parting promise to bring the keys with him tomorrow. The drive back to the farm felt endless. It was only when another car overtook him, honking, that he realised he was way below the speed limit, lost in thought. Admit it, he thought, the truth is you don't want to go back to the house. No, that's not all of it. For all that you're spitting mad at her, you don't want to go back to the house without her being there. How had a few short hours changed the way everything looked and felt? How could she walk into his house...his life... and turn what was once comforting solitude, freedom to move as he pleased, into something constricting. Empty. He was still considering this as he sat in his room, gazing out at the last thin line of the sun's warm glow on the horizon. His thoughts wavered wildly between two things. His obvious loss of sanity on the one hand, and on the other, the memory of how her neck had looked, pale and arching under his kisses. How warm her skin had felt, and soft. When his memory began to torment him with one last recollection of how it felt to be inside her, her whole body drawing him in, he forced himself to bed. He prayed for dreamless sleep. * * * * * * * * * * She'd had a wretched night. Her mind just couldn't stop racing and replaying the previous day's events. She'd finally slipped into an exhausted sleep just as the horizon started to brighten, but found herself trapped instead in the middle of some surreal dream where Will drove her out into the middle of nowhere and left her by the side of the road. That was a tough one to analyse. On top of that, parts of her body she didn't know existed ached and twinged, but she supposed that was partly her own fault. She tried to block other guilty party from her thoughts. It was already threatening to be a blisteringly hot day, but she'd still been looking forward to a long soaking bath this morning. All hope of this was lost with her mother's knock on her bedroom door bearing the news that they'd have to go out and get groceries for Aunt Louise. Apparently she'd had a fall and sprained her wrist. "I'm sorry, hon. I'm going to have to go stay with her, just until I'm sure she's okay on her own," said her mother. "I know you've come all the way out here to see me, but you know how she is." "You do too much, Mom. I thought she had a carer that came to see her?" Sarah asked. "Yes, yes she does, but I don't trust them to get her all the things she needs. You know how particular she is. And besides, they can't be with her all the time," her mother said before bustling off to get her grocery bags and overnight things. Sarah didn't bother to argue. For all of her fretting, she knew her mother enjoyed being helpful and useful and it wasn't a chore for her. She was attempting to dry her hair after a lightning-fast shower when the doorbell rang. She heard her mother answer it and then the sound of voices. Curious, she hastily slipped into the coolest skirt and top she had. Grabbing her flat shoes, she emerged into the hallway to investigate. As she turned the corner into the front hall and their visitor came into view, her feet froze and she came to an abrupt halt. It was Will. In her front hallway. Chatting with her mother. He looked even taller standing there, towering over her mother's slight frame, her head barely reaching his shoulder. His eyes flicked up to meet hers. For a moment she found herself fighting for breath. "Sarah...Sarah? Honey, this nice young man says he needs your car keys. For the mechanic," said her mother, breaking through Sarah's stunned silence. "Yes...yes, I suppose he would need those, yes," she said, nodding. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she was chastising herself for sounding like such an airhead. When he spoke, his voice was even deeper, warmer than she remembered. She was transported by a memory of that same voice, whispering in her ear, his hands on her, his lips on hers. It felt like a brush-fire was racing through her body. She really couldn't meet his eyes now, so she only heard him address her mother. "Ma'am, it sounds like you have somewhere important to be. I can take Sarah to sort out her car. If she wants," he added, his gaze returning to Sarah for a moment. She felt the heat rise to her face. "That's a fine idea," her mother agreed. "Don't worry, Sarah, I can sort out the things for Auntie-El. It's much better you get your car back in once piece or you'll have no way of getting around while I'm away." Just like that it was settled. Her mother was out the door with her bags and pulling out of the driveway in the old sedan before Sarah had a chance to protest. Sarah was the first to break the silence. "I'll just go get my things...I'll be right back." She fled to her bedroom, trying to remember what she needed. Purse. Keys. Make-up. Damn...no time for that. She took a quick look at herself in the mirror. Her hair had dried as it always did, in shoulder-length wavy curls, a little on the frizzy side. Hopeless. Dashing on a quick layer of mascara she headed back to the living room, knowing it would only make matters worse to keep him waiting. She found him, examining her mother's collection of family pictures on the living room wall. "That's how I remember you," he said, quietly, almost to himself. He was looking at a photo of a much younger Sarah in fancy dress. Fancy dress with wings, of course. He turned his attention to a photo of her and her father, taken at her eighth grade graduation. In the picture she was smiling up at her dad, his arm around her shoulders. "That was just a few months before he had his first heart attack," she said. He watched her study the photograph and said nothing. She started to reach out to touch the frame, but dropped her hand, gripping her purse more tightly instead. "Shall we go, then?" she asked. He'd parked on the street in the same place he'd dropped her off the night before. Their truck ritual was repeated, her door opened, his waiting gaze on her while she got settled, her door closed, and the in-held breath as she waited for him to make his way around to the driver's side. It was as if they had rewound to the first moments they had met again on the road. How could that be, she thought, when everything had changed? Every glance at his hands, his mouth, brought with it a flood of images from the previous day. Images that made her cheeks burn. "We'll go see about your car first," he said, putting the truck into gear and pulling into the street. "Thank you," she replied, glancing over at him, trying unsuccessfully to read his expression. First? What comes after, then? Hopefully some explanation of what's going on, she thought, because I have no clue. She continued to ponder this, along with the fact that every time they were in this truck it was as if there was a yawning crevasse between them filled with silence and awkwardness. * * * * * * * * * * He'd only meant to ask her for her keys and then go. The tense, sick feeling at the bottom of his stomach had subsided a little when he saw it wasn't Sarah at the door, but her mother. He wasn't sure at first if her mother remembered who he was. He'd not had occasion to speak with her for years, maybe since he was a kid. But she'd set him at ease, and when he found out that they were juggling her car and a sick relative he'd heard himself offering to take the keys and Sarah too. When would his bright ideas learn to keep to themselves, he wondered. And now she was sitting next to him in his truck. Again. Silent and solemn, hands folded neatly in her lap. He fixed his eyes on the road, resisting the urge to look at her. He'd just about forgotten how to speak the moment she burst into the hallway, hair floating around her shoulders, her cheeks flushed. Her deceptively demure clothing, concealing what he now knew was far from sweet and innocent. Well, perhaps it had been until she'd decided to take care of all that in his boathouse. He felt the anger flare up again, but he welcomed it. Being angry helped. It was a little easier to stay focussed that way. When they arrived at Jake's, the doors were all closed and there was a scrawled 'gone for spare parts' sign stuck at an angle on the door. Will didn't miss the sceptical expression on Sarah's face. "Don't worry, he's a good guy," he said. "We went to school together. He's one of the few people I actually talk to around here." He wondered why he was telling her this. "Give me your car keys." He took them from her, scribbled a note on a spare piece of paper and jumped out to drop them through the slot in the door. When he returned he leaned on his door and looked in at her. "Have you eaten?" he asked, and was rewarded by a shake of her head. "Okay, we can go eat while we wait for Jake to get back." He got back in and pulled his door closed, determined to sort out in his mind whatever madness was keeping him from driving her straight back home. * * * * * * * * * * Breakfast actually sounded like a good idea. She hadn't even thought to eat earlier, and now she could feel rumbles of rebellion from her stomach. And, she thought, he'll have to talk to me then, won't he? She wasn't sure how much more of the silent treatment she could endure The Water Nymph Ch. 04 They pulled into Amy's Diner. It didn't look too busy inside as the breakfast rush had already passed. Her Dad used to bring her here for a special breakfast once in a while, just the two of them. He'd let her pick anything she wanted from the menu, and then they'd talk. It wasn't the special treat so much as having his full attention for that short hour that she had loved. She took a deep breath and put the thoughts away. It had been a very long time since their last breakfast together. Will found them a clean table along the side wall near the front window and surprised her by pulling her chair out and waiting until she sat. She looked up at him, smiling a thank you. She was about to ask him what he was going to order when their waitress materialised next to them. "Hiii Sarah, how aaare you? It's been so looong!" The only person she knew who spoke in endless elongated vowels like that had to be Cherise. She took a breath and looked up at her. "Hi Cherise, I'm good, and you?" Sarah went to take one of the menus that Cherise was holding out for them. She noticed that though Cherise was apparently speaking to her, her eyes were fixed quite firmly on Will. He simply nodded slightly at her, took a menu and concentrated on choosing his meal. Cherise tried again. "So Will, I haven't seen you in here for a while. What's the matter? Been busy?" At this last part her eyes flicked back to Sarah, as if surveying the competition. "Just give us a minute to decide, Cherise, we'll call you over, okay?" he answered, seemingly oblivious to her attempts to get his attention. Sarah did her best to hide her smile behind her menu as she watched Cherise do what could only be termed a flounce back to the counter. "So what will you have?" he asked, setting his menu down. She couldn't resist. "French toast," she said, biting her lip and trying without success to hold back the giggle that bubbled up as she connected it with their waitress' name. She kept her head down, trying to assemble a straight face. She was startled by his chuckle. She looked him full in the face now, and they shared a smile. "You're not allowed to be funny," he said, becoming more serious. "I'm supposed to be mad at you." "Mad at me? But why?" Will leaned both arms on the table, shoulders hunched so he could bring his head in closer to hers. "You know very well why. And it's not a joke. Not for me at least." The tension was back and she could see a muscle twitch in his jaw. "I'm sorry Will, I really am. I didn't mean to upset you," she said quietly. "I don't even know what I did." He looked away and sat back in his chair. "This isn't quite the place to talk about it, is it," he said, gesturing with his head towards the other diners and a petulant Cherise leaning against the counter. She was about to answer when she heard the door open behind her and their table was overshadowed again. This time the intrusion was male, tall and bulky. "Will, my man, how's it going? Out for brunch with your lovely lady friend?" She tried to place the voice, neck craning to take in his face. A name drifted back from her early days at high school along with a memory of the football team and the clique of girls that went with it. Kevin. She noticed now that Will hadn't answered but had re-opened his menu and was studiously ignoring Kevin's question. Kevin said a quiet "Huh." and turned his attention to Sarah. Looking warily across the table to Will who she could see was now bristling, she chose to ignore Kevin and said, "Will, I think I'll have the waffles with bacon, is that okay?" Kevin turned back to Will. "So, Will, how's your folks? How's your father these days?" Sarah barely had time to look up before Will was on his feet, standing toe to toe with Kevin, who flinched backwards in surprise. "You'll leave us alone," Will said, his voice quiet but menacing. "What? What'd I say?" Kevin protested, hands raised. Will faced him down for another moment and then turned, so close to Kevin that he knocked him off balance as he moved away. Kevin stumbled back against the neighbouring table with a curse. Will took Sarah's arm and she barely had time to grab her purse before she was being marched through the diner doorway in front of him. She could hear Kevin calling insults after them. They were back at the truck and Will had her door open, heading around to his side of the vehicle when she finally found her voice. "Will! What on earth was that about? I mean...I know the guy's annoying-" "No, you don't know, Sarah," he said, cutting her off. He started the engine as soon as her door was shut and pulled away from the diner parking lot without looking back. "And no, I don't want to talk about it. Just trust me on this one, okay?" God, Will, she thought, what goes on in that head of yours? She was deeply confused now, trying to shake the memory of his restrained hostility as he'd stared Kevin down. But what had caused him to snap like that? Kevin's tone of voice had bothered her. It was almost as if he was goading Will, trying to push his buttons. What did Kevin know that she didn't? Glancing over at Will she could tell from the set of his jaw that now wasn't the time to ask. After a few streets he began to relax, the stiffness ebbing away and she recognised they were on their way out of town. He finally spoke. "I'm sorry you had to see that. It's nothing to do with you...just..." "It's okay, Will..." They drove on, lapsing into silence. * * * * * * * * * * He couldn't go back there. Couldn't force his mind back to the beginning of what ended in him having a show-down in a greasy-spoon with a nobody like Kevin. He looked over at Sarah. They were parked beside the doughnut shop on the edge of town in the only scrap of shade offered by the sparse trees. It was getting closer to midday and the heat was oppressive. She was gazing out the open window, happily tucking into an enormous apple fritter, fanning herself slowly with her napkin. "I thought girls were meant to have dainty appetites," he said, slightly amazed. This elicited a smile and a muffled laugh as she looked back at him. He could see a little bit of icing sugar on her chin, but resisted the urge to wipe it away. Somehow just being with her calmed him. When she wasn't winding him up, that is. "I thought we needed to see Jake about my car," she said finally, between bites. Making a decision, he put the lid back on his coffee cup. "Forget the car. Jake's got the keys anyway. I don't feel like going back into town after..." he waved his hand, "...you know. Besides, it's too hot." "I know a place where there's a cool breeze even when it's hot," she said, quoting his words back to him, leaning her head back against the seat. He had to think for a moment before it clicked. "You want to go back to the pond?" he asked, somewhat incredulous, more because she'd practically read his mind than anything else. He found himself blocking mental images again. Pale skin. Smooth thighs. Having her so close wasn't making things any easier. He shifted in his seat. "We really should talk about this," he said, trying to ignore the fact that she was very carefully licking her fingers clean of the sugary glaze, one by one, completely oblivious to its effect on him. He only meant to reach out and brush the last dust of sugar from her chin so he could concentrate on what he needed to say. But at that moment she turned towards him and instead, he was kissing her, his mouth crushed against hers. That mouth. Such soft lips. Soft and yielding. He could still taste the sugar on her. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, lost to all conscious thought, lost in the feel of her. She moaned softly, the sound jolting him back to reality. He pulled himself away with great difficulty. "No, Sarah, no...we really need to talk about this," he said, breathing hard. "What is it you want?" she asked, searching his face. She was flushed and a little dazed from their kiss. "I just can't tell what you want from me. Please just tell me." His anger reignited. He just couldn't shake the feeling of having been robbed of something precious. "I wanted to do things properly, that's what!" "Do what properly?" she asked. "What do you think? What happened out by the pond...that wasn't the way I wanted to do things. I thought...assumed...that you'd have been with plenty of guys by now. You didn't say a thing and certainly didn't stop me-" "Stop you?" It was her turn to be furious. "I was supposed to stop you?" "No! No, it just seemed like it was something you'd done before..." "Well, you were wrong." She twisted away from him, crossing her arms across her body protectively. "Then why didn't you say something? Anything..." "Say something? Like what?" "The truth, for starters." "What do you mean, the truth?" "Maybe the fact that you've never been with anyone before?" "And what did you expect me to say? 'Oh, Hi Will, how are you? I'm still a virgin, nice to see you again'?" "You know that's not what I mean..." "Then what do you mean, Will? What do you want me to say?" She didn't wait for an answer, wrenching her door open and slamming it behind her. He watched her stalk away from the truck and then stop, hugging her arms around herself, looking lost. He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. Good job Will, you've really made things better, he thought. When he looked up again, she wasn't there. He spun around, trying to see where she'd gone. He finally spotted her through the rear window, leaning against the tree in the shade near the back of the truck. He got out, taking care to close the door gently. "Sarah?" She ignored him, refusing even to look at him. "Look, Sarah...I'm sorry, okay?" "Sorry for what? Wasting your time with someone as inexperienced as me?" "No, of course not! I'm sorry if I've upset you..." She remained silent, arms crossed and shoulders tense. He tried again, moving closer to her. "I just wanted to explain my reaction yesterday..." She watched him approach, wary. "It's just that I would have done things differently...better...if I'd known..." He trailed off. "You know I didn't plan on any of that happening." "Well, it's too late to take it back now." "I'm not trying to take it back-" "You could have fooled me. You've barely said a word to me since." He couldn't exactly argue with that. He stood back for a moment, absorbing what she'd said, his anger slowly receding. She was still turned away from him, eyes fixed on some point in the distance. He stepped in front of her, trying to catch her eye. "Don't push me away," he said. "I just need to know you're okay. That I didn't hurt you." "No, I'm fine, I told you." He touched her arm, attempting to pull her gently around, ignoring her initial resistance. She finally allowed herself to be turned towards him. "And you're definitely on the pill?" he asked in a low voice. She wrenched her arm away again. "You really don't trust me, do you?" "It's nothing to do with trust...look, I'm just trying to be responsible here..." "Again, a bit late for that, don't you think?" He turned on his heel and paced for a few steps, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. What answer could he give? Everything he said just seemed to make things worse. He turned back to her. "Dammit, Sarah, can't you see I'm trying to make this right? I don't know how to do this. I've never felt like this with anyone before. Can you understand that?" She looked at him, searching his face, unable to hide her look of surprise or the look of suspicion that followed. Without stopping to think he covered the distance between them and was kissing her before she could even begin to protest. The hands that at first pushed against his chest quickly subsided and instead slid around his waist, clinging to him as he explored her mouth. His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her towards him. A car door slammed. They jumped apart, startled. A mother holding her young children firmly by the hand marched past the truck, leaving them with a backward glance of disapproval. He rubbed his face and tried his best to return his heart rate back to normal. Will, he thought, what on earth are you doing? * * * * * * * * * * He could already feel the air getting cooler as they neared the pond. As soon as they stepped into the gazebo, memories of the previous day returned with a vengeance. Pulling away from him, Sarah retreated to the cushioned bench closest to the pond and perched, looking out over the rippling water. "So you're just going to run away from me, then?" he said, still standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed. He moved to sit down next to her, and again, she sidled away. "You weren't always so shy of me," he said, looking down at his hands. She thought for a moment before speaking. "It just frightens me, Will," she said. "What do you mean? What frightens you?" he asked, concerned. "I'm with you for fifteen minutes and I've lost all self-control. Practically throwing myself at you. Like some sort of...of..." She frowned, closing her eyes and resting her head against the screen. He was quiet for a few moments before answering. "You think it's any different for me? You're like a drug to me, you know that, don't you?" She looked up at him. She could see that he meant it. She looked away again. "With what happened yesterday...I just didn't know it could be like that..." "Be like what?" At this she buried her face against his shoulder, but he knew now what that meant. She'd enjoyed it. Not that he'd doubted it at the time but knowing it now triggered a wave of heat through his whole body. What am I going to do with you, he thought, tilting her chin up and finding her lips with his, kissing her slowly, thoroughly. She gave into him so completely he could feel the haze of desire begin to take over again as he drowned himself in her softness. * * * * * * * * * * The hurt she'd felt since the previous day melted slowly under the onslaught of his kiss and she began to relax against his shoulder. So he had felt something too, between them. She couldn't account for the thrill it gave her to hear him say it. She went to move closer to him, but he rose to his feet, pulling her up to stand in front of him. She fell against him as she tried to regain her balance. His hands shifted to her hips, pulling her towards him. He looked down at her, judging her reaction. "Undress me," he said. She just blinked for a moment, "What?" "Undress me." He nodded towards the pond, "We're going for a swim." "But I...I haven't got a swimsuit." "Who said anything about swimsuits," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "You undress me and I'll undress you. And then we can go for a little swim," he explained again. "I don't know about you, but it's getting a little warm in here." She looked back at him for a few moments. He seemed serious. His mood had shifted dramatically since their kiss in the parking lot. She could feel the warmth of his body radiating against hers and the little voice frantically advising her to go back home like a good girl was becoming ever fainter. "Okay." "Take off my shirt then," he instructed with mock sternness, waiting for her to comply. She decided to start with the top button and work her way down. Each released button revealed another few inches of smooth warm skin - lightly muscled and flecked with dark hairs down the centre of his chest. Reaching the bottom button, she tentatively ran her hands over his stomach, up to his chest, enjoying the feel of his skin under her fingertips. He gave her a warning glance, so she pushed at the fabric until it slid down over his shoulders and fell into a heap on the floor. She went to slip her hands around to his back when he gently grabbed her wrists and smiled down at her. "Enough of that. My turn now." He lifted her shirt slightly, smoothing his hands around her waist. Bending his head he placed a kiss on her neck as he gently slid the top up. He stepped back for a moment to tug it over her head, stopping with her arms trapped above her for a few moments before dropping the garment to the floor to join his. She looked up at him, smiling softly. "What are you, some sort of witch?" he said softly, staring back and taking her face in his hands, tracing her cheekbones with his thumbs. "You rob me of all logical thought and we end up half-naked in my boathouse. Again." This time she was the one to pull away. She grasped his belt, working at the buckle. "My turn." She smiled, beginning to enjoy their game. She watched as he breathed in sharply and closed his eyes when she found the zipper. Pushing the pants down over his hips she ran her hands down over his boxers and smoothed her hands over his backside, surprised again at her own boldness. "There's that witch-girl again," he muttered, pushing her hands away and focussing on unfastening the waistband of her skirt. "Why do women have such complicated clothing?" he said, frowning, mystified at the elusive fastening. She giggled now, showing him the button and zipper down the side, wiggling her hips slightly as he finally slid the light fabric down to the floor. "Not fair. Women also have more clothes to take off," he protested again, as he observed the satin slip she wore underneath. "I don't mind," she said, slipping her fingers under the waistband of his boxers, sliding them down over his hips in a final burst of bravado. Experiencing some resistance, she glanced down in surprise. The reason for the hang-up made her blush. He took her chin in his hand and looked into her eyes. "Don't blame me. That is entirely your fault." He turned her to face away from him, deftly unhooking the back of her bra, sliding the straps down her arms. It flitted through her mind that he was a little too good at that. He pulled her briefly back against his body, his hands sliding up over her bare breasts, blocking everything from her mind other than the sensation of his hands on her bare skin. She drew in a sharp breath, leaning against him. His skin felt warm and smooth against her back, and the ache she thought has subsided returned ferociously hungry for more. His hands slid lower, under the waistband of the flimsy slip, beneath her underwear, fingers dipping fleetingly in the increasing wetness between her legs. She gasped, arching back against him. But then the slip and her underwear were tugged down into a puddle around her ankles, and he was past her and out the door. She heard a distant splash as he dove into the water. She stepped out of the garments and crept over to the door, looking all around the outside of the boathouse for unwanted eyes. Self-conscious, complete and utter shyness took her over again. She was cursing her cowardliness when she heard the other door bang closed and found herself grasped from behind by cool, slippery-wet arms, his warm breath on her ear. "Last one in's a chicken, witchy-girl." She was unceremoniously dragged by the arm out the door and down the pier by a very nude Will. The water came up at her with surprising swiftness and the stunning cold enveloped her. For a moment she was entirely numbed, unable to move. She could feel the slick stems of water plants brush against her feet. Then she kicked, following the bubbles to the surface. Startled by a tug on her leg, and saw him swimming beneath her in the slightly murky water. Kicking to free herself she splashed out. Breaking the surface at the same time, he turned and grinned at her. He pointed towards the floating platform in the middle of the pond. "Beat you to the raft!" he called before taking off in a leisurely backstroke. The Water Nymph Ch. 04 She was still amazed at the transformation in his demeanour. From the tense silence and anger between them earlier, this was a completely different Will. A Will she'd never even seen growing up except briefly that Halloween when they'd clung to the rocking hay wagon as high up the sides as they dared. Or breathed as softly as they could to examine the firefly he'd captured in his cupped hands under those same leaning cedars. In all her secret observations she couldn't remember a time when he'd not been closed and quiet. Maybe they weren't so different after all. She followed him more slowly through the water with her best doggy paddle. She wasn't a great swimmer, but knew how to stay afloat at least. The feel of the water soon blocked out the competing questions in her mind. She'd forgotten what it felt like to swim naked. Tendrils of cool currents flickering along her body, creating small thrills over areas made sensitive by the previous day's activities. When she finally reached the raft, he was waiting for her, his expression unreadable. "From witch to water nymph. I can't keep track of your magical transformations." He said, shaking his head slowly. She swam closer, aiming for a handhold on the raft, but his arm shot out and pulled her towards him. "I seem to remember kisses working in fairy tales. Maybe it will keep you from shape-shifting, hm?" He smoothed a wet tendril of her hair out of her face before tugging her fully against him, their skin slipping together deliciously in the cool water. His mouth found hers, kissing her, searching, deep. The movement of the water around them created a natural rhythmic motion, and she felt him harden against her again - the cold water seemingly having no effect on his arousal. He groaned softly against her mouth as she inadvertently rubbed against him, and let his head fall back with a soft curse when she surprised even herself by taking his hardness in her hand. "God, woman, are you trying to kill me?" he asked, his voice strained and breathless. He was hot and hard, but velvety soft at the same time. She wondered how he had fit inside her, her hand feeling so small against him. Unable to withstand the torture any longer, he flipped her to face the side of the raft. "If you need something to hang onto, I suggest you use the ladder," he advised darkly, something in his voice threatening all sorts of delicious punishment. He clamped his arm firmly around her waist, and before she could protest he was pushing into her from behind, thrusting hard and hot. She cried out, the feeling of being filled by him taking over everything. He drove himself into her again, causing her to buck against him, desperate for him to move faster, push harder. He frustrated her again with another leisurely thrust. His hand slid down her body and between her legs, stroking her and making her writhe back against him with pleasure. She felt his warm breath against her ear. "I never knew water nymphs felt this good..." he muttered. She had never experienced such a contrast of sensations. The cold of the water sensitised every nerve ending. The smooth water slid past her skin and around the firm, rough grasp of his arms in an endless caress. He was unable to resist the urge to increase the pace but it was impossible to find purchase while nearly weightless in the water. He forced himself to pull away from her, gasping at the effort. "They always make this look so damned easy in the movies, don't they?" he grumbled, dunking his head in the cool water and shaking it in an attempt to clear it, breathing hard. Clinging to the raft's ladder, insides in a jellified state, she curled in on herself. She shut her eyes and attempted to calm the raging need that coursed through her. "So much for a cooling swim," she joked weakly, leaning her head against the side of the raft. She looked up to find him watching her, his cheeks flushed but his eyes clear. "Did you know you're even more beautiful wet?" he asked, gaze drifting over the curve of her naked shoulders. They stayed like that for some time, gently bobbing in the water, studying one another, saying nothing. The cold finally crept in though, and she shivered. "You're cold." His eyes darkened for a moment, and taking her hands he pulled her up against his body and began towing her gently with him, legs kicking strongly, angling them towards the pier. Climbing gingerly out of the water she followed him, shivering, back to the boathouse where a few moth-eaten towels awaited them. After collecting their scattered belongings, they scrambled their way back to the house, laughing breathlessly like naughty children. * * * * * * * * * * They came in through the kitchen. As the screen door banged closed behind them, Will took her by the shoulders and steered her up the stairs and into the large family bathroom. "I'll bring up proper towels - get into the hot water and warm up, okay?" He watched her warily, unsure of her reaction to being back in the house. She nodded, her mind too full of thoughts to speak. He left her, and she stepped into the stand-up shower. She found it almost odd to be by herself, lost in her own thoughts after the intensity of the past few hours. Was it only hours? She looked around for soap - wanting to scrub herself clean, as if it would straighten her muddled thoughts. She didn't know how long she stood there, head leaning against the shower wall in the stream of hot water. She heard a knock at the door, and an arm reached around and placed a towel on the hook by the door. He didn't come in. Did he know she needed to be alone? Still confused, she sighed as she shut off the water, watching the last droplets pool and drain away. Cool air from the room crept over the top of the shower stall door. Stepping out, she wrapped herself in the towel. It was pale blue, and smelled fresh. Smelled a bit like him. She held it to her face, breathing in. What was she thinking? Was she suddenly mad? Were they both mad? She finally emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in her towel, skin pink from the long exposure to the hot water after the cool of the pond. She'd taken one look at her slightly dusty, crumpled clothes, and decided she couldn't bring herself to put them back on just yet. She tentatively approached the door to his bedroom, but didn't see him there. She heard noises from downstairs, and looking over the railing, she saw him carrying up a tray. The smell of coffee wafted up the stairs with him. He was dressed again, in fresh jeans and a t-shirt, his feet bare. He'd showered - somewhere else in the house she guessed. His hair did the falling-over-the-forehead thing even more when it was damp. God, he looked good. She waited by the railing until he reached the top of the stairs and their eyes met. He paused for a moment before walking past her and into the room. She followed. "From water nymph to Grecian goddess? Now I really can't keep up," he joked, turning to smile at her. She blushed, pulling the towel a little closer. "Not that I mind," he continued, "I like the damp towel look." She wondered what might happen if she just dropped the towel then and there and stood in front of him naked. Her face felt hot again at her own thoughts. As if reading her mind, he placed the coffee on the small table by the sofa and went into the wardrobe behind the door. He brought out a long dressing gown. His, maybe. Navy, made with nubbley material, but soft and clean. "You'd better put this on, or I won't be held liable for my actions," he said, his gaze drawn to inexorably down her body. He turned his back to pour the coffee and she wrapped herself in the dark blue folds of the robe. She made her way around the sofa gingerly, choosing a spot on the far end, curling up against the soft cushions. He handed her a hot steaming mug, and took up residence in the chair by the table. "So." "So." She replied softly. "I called Jake," he said finally. "About your car," he continued, as if explanation was needed. "He said it might be a couple of days before he can get the part in." The both sat silent for a moment. "I guess you want to go back to your mom's place?" he asked, staring intently into his coffee mug. "I don't know," she said. "I don't need to be anywhere really." She suddenly realised that she was probably imposing. Imposing naked, in his dressing gown no-less. "I can go - I mean...you probably have things you need to do..." She rose hurriedly, looking for somewhere to place her coffee mug. He was on his feet instantly, standing in front of her. He removed the mug from her hands and placed it on the table. Taking her face in his hands he kissed her. Hard. When he pulled back and looked into her eyes, his were dark and fathomless. She knew now what part of that darkness meant, but not all. Mesmerising, the mysterious darkness pulled at her. He brushed a thumb gently over her lips, watching her intently. "Stay with me. Tonight." She didn't answer. Didn't need to answer. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she buried her face against his chest. He turned her, and taking her place on the sofa, scooped her into his lap, tucking her head against his shoulder. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. All she was aware of was the rise and fall of their breathing, the slow rhythm of their hearts beating, the warmth of his body radiating outwards to hers. When he spoke, his voice was low, inscrutable. "Why does this feel like the only right thing I've ever done?" he asked, almost to himself, looking down at her. Pulling back slightly, she looked up to study his face. "Did you really actually have a thing for me all those years ago?" she asked quietly. She felt a low chuckle rumble up through his chest. "After everything... you still need to fish for compliments?" he retorted. "No. No...I just find it sort of hard to believe I guess.." she trailed off, embarrassed. He waited a few minutes before replying. "I was aware of girls I suppose. But I was always a loner...they made me nervous. And most of them were pushy. Loud and laughing and they'd try to get a reaction out of me. But they just weren't my type." He paused, looking thoughtful. She stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. "There were some girls I thought were pretty, but I could never get near them somehow. But with you...maybe it was because of that day you were here that Halloween. It's like we had a connection, you and me. But by the time I'd noticed you'd grown up there were always things that got in the way. You were younger. Much younger. You were just hitting highschool when I was at college. And you had different friends." He leaned his head back, remembering. "I wish I'd known," she said, wistfully. "It never felt like any of the boys ever saw me." It never felt like you ever saw me, Will, she thought. "I just thought you'd never be interested in an old fart like me," he said, smiling. "Are you kidding? I thought you were a god." She smiled back, meeting his eyes. "A god, huh?" he laughed. "I supposed that myth is entirely dispelled now." His manner became more serious. "Are you sure you have nowhere you need to be tonight?" he asked again. She heard the twinge of uncertainty in his voice. "Don't you want me to stay?" she asked. In answer, he lifted her until she was astride his lap, and for a moment her mind flashed back to their first time in the boathouse. He drew her lips down to his, his mouth possessing hers firmly, his tongue invading hers, insistent. She felt his hands drift from her waist down to her bottom, tracing the curve of her body through the robe before pulling her closer, settling her more firmly against his hips. She slid her arms around his neck, her fingers slipping into his dark hair, surprised at its silkiness. Deep warmth enveloped them both, desire smouldering, then catching alight. He gathered her up abruptly, lifting her from the sofa in one smooth movement. Wrapping her legs around his waist he carried her across the room. She was laid down on his bed and he leaned over her, his knee pushing insistently between her thighs. Trailing kisses down her neck, he began suckling all the sensitive places along the curve of her shoulder. "I should have done this properly the first time," he muttered, pushing his knee more firmly against the growing heat between her legs until she arched against it, sighing. She slid her arms around his waist, burrowing under his shirt and running her hands along the light muscles of his back. He grabbed her hands, pinning her wrists firmly to the bed. Her stomach lurched. A new madness flooded through her as he held her down, gently, firmly, with his body. "Who said you get to do the touching?" he asked huskily, staring deeply into her eyes. In that moment she couldn't have moved if she'd tried. He began a leisurely examination, first studying her parted lips, swollen from his kisses. Then the rapid pulse beating at her throat. To the robe, now slipping open to reveal the curve of her breasts and stomach, her heaving breaths. He tightened his grip on her wrists slightly, noticing the immediate intensity of her reaction, the darkening of her eyes. "Does this turn you on, little witch? Is this what little nymphs like to do? Hm?" He watched with satisfaction as she arched her body against him. "God, you just don't know how sexy you are," he groaned, trying desperately to remain in control. She was lost now, lost to a world of heat and sensation. The last traces of shyness fell away and she felt instincts take over she didn't know existed. She pushed her hips up against him, arching her back, her breasts desperate to be free and to feel his skin next to hers. Groaning softly, he let go of one of her wrists long enough to pull back the edge of the robe, exposing her. Cool air flooded across her taut nipples. She moaned as he buried his face between her breasts, licking and sucking an ascent up each mound to the sensitive peaks. Suckling her with such forcefulness she thought she would go to pieces right then and there. She felt his teeth close gently around a nipple and cried out, wild with the intensity of sensation. He bit harder, nearly making her scream. He relented, his mouth and hands exploring lower, leaving a fiery trail, tracing the curve of her stomach. When his head moved even lower she realised his intent and frantically tried to push him away. "Will, no...! Oh god..." But his mouth was already pressed against her, his tongue insistent, searching, finding her most sensitive place. She cried out, helpless, tangling her fingers in his hair, pressing herself up against his invading lips. He drove her higher, slowly pushing his fingers inside her and punishing her with his mouth and tongue until she was incoherent with pleasure. Then his body was gone. She gasped at the loss, and watched as he wrenched off his clothes in quick, jerky movements. His hands returned to her, sliding up her thighs to her hips and waist, parting the robe and stripping it impatiently from her body. He slid her further up the bed until she was stretched full length and he was kneeling over her, naked and aroused, again with his knee pushing insistently against the hot, wet place between her legs. Moaning, she bucked against him, desperate for release. Her wrists were again firmly imprisoned, his knees forcing her thighs apart. "Put your legs up around me," he said, on the edge and breathing raggedly. "Now. Nymph...witch. What do you want?" he asked. She shook her head wildly, unable to bring herself to speak. She could feel the heat of his rock-hard arousal brushing against the inside of her thigh, tantalising her. "Tell me. Tell me what you really want." His voice was seductive, threatening, incredible. "You," she managed to gasp. "Me what?" "You...inside me," she said again, whimpering as she felt him begin to stroke himself against her wetness with excruciating gentleness. "Like this?" he asked, pushing ever so slightly inside her. She could barely speak, moaning, "Yes, yes...please!" she begged him, desperate to bring his body closer. "Ah, you mean like this?" he managed to gasp, and plunged himself into her, deep and hard. The world dissolved. She heard herself crying out his name, begging for him as he thrust into her over and over, harder and harder. Heard him calling her name, calling her names... Where she ended and he began she could no longer tell, aware only of the unending waves of pleasure washing through her. She took him into herself, deeply, achingly deep. His pounding thrusts quickened, becoming increasingly erratic as he tried to hold back his release. Her pleasure peaking on a knife edge, she cried out, shivering into a million pieces as he joined her, burying himself deep inside her, shuddering. She felt him slowly collapse on top of her, their hearts pounding in tandem. He rolled onto his back, taking her with him. Draping her across his breathless body, their skin still furnace-like and damp with sweat, he buried his face in her neck, his grip around her waist relentless. After that, she remembered very little. * * * * * * * * * * When she woke, the only light in the room was filtering through from the hallway. It was night, and the faint creaking song of crickets was broken only by the occasional frog calling from the pond. They were curled together, her back to him, his arm firmly around her. He must have pulled the covers over them...she didn't recall it. Everything felt so very real, yet she thought she must be trapped in some long dream. Aches and twinges in intimate areas of her body swiftly confirmed for her that the events of her dream had indeed taken place, however. Wide awake now, she became aware of other bodily needs, and very carefully began the delicate operation of extricating herself from his unrelenting grasp. Even fast asleep he refused to let her go. Finally managing to slide from beneath his arm without waking him, she slipped back into his robe, padding quietly to the bathroom. Turning off the taps, she caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror. She barely recognised the woman she saw in the reflection. Her hair had dried in a tussled mass of waves and curls, her lips were still raw from his kisses and she saw something different in her eyes. A wildness. Like some wanton creature. She felt a thrill, of fear or excitement she didn't know. Who was she becoming? Who had she become? She was returning, switching off the light, when she thought she heard someone talking. No, someone shouting. She raced towards the bedroom and found Will still lying in bed, but moving erratically, his arms flailing, his low cries garbled and indecipherable. Panic gripped her. Was he having a fit? Without another thought, she was at the bedside, grasping his shoulders, trying desperately see what was the matter. It didn't look like a fit, or sound like one. It did sound as if he was fighting a whole battle in his head. It dawned on her. He was having one hell of a nightmare. She tried shaking him, gently at first and then more firmly, hoping it would snap him out of his growing distress. The shouting stopped abruptly, reducing to soft muttering. She thought she caught a few words, "...stop, no!" "...don't!" Then he was silent, dropping back into a deep sleep without even having woken. She stood there, staring at him, wondering what could have caused such a violent episode. She'd never seen such a nightmare. She turned on the lamp beside the bed to examine him properly. He had rolled slightly on his side, his back to her. In the weak light, she noticed what she hadn't seen in the daylight. What he'd kept her from seeing. Pale thin lines traced across his entire back. Many, many pale, thin lines. Smooth and long-healed, but she knew instantly they were scars. The Water Nymph Ch. 05 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * This is a continuous story, so I would recommend reading the previous chapters for background on the characters and certain plot points. A massive thank you to everyone who has given me feedback and encouragement so far. I know it's been a little while (okay, okay, AGES) since I posted my last chapter, so for those still valiantly following, here is a little synopsis of the end of Chapter 04 to get the wheels turning... x bd * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The story so far... When we left Sarah and Will, they had finally begun to open up to each other, swimming together in the pond, sharing memories of their experiences of growing up and admitting their longstanding attraction to each other. After a shaky start with a passionate encounter in the boathouse and an ensuing emotional argument over Sarah's virginity, Will is determined to make it up to Sarah and their lovemaking takes them to new heights. Waking in his bed in the night, Sarah witnesses one of Will's nightmares, and when she finds that his back is covered in scars, she has to come to terms with the awful truth that he was abused... * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * He was drowning again. Darkness gripped him tight and dragged him down, always down. He couldn't see. Couldn't breathe. He tried to scream. To cry for help. He saw the light above him before he saw her. A pale glow, growing ever stronger. But then he could see that she was the light and she drifted towards him with a luminous hand outstretched. She took hold of him, her pale hair a golden halo drifting around them both. The strands licked gently at his arms like cool tongues of flame. The hands that gripped his were small but they were strong. She pulled him steadily out of the blackness towards the surface. One final clutching grasp and the dark reluctantly released him. He felt breath flood back into his lungs. He relaxed, drifting into sleep, bathed in her light. * * * Will woke slowly, consciousness gradually creeping in. It was past dawn, the morning sunlight tracing shifting patterns on the floor. This was his room...his bed, but something was different. Missing. He sat up quickly, searching around until he found her. She was curled in the far corner of the bed, her head tucked down with a hand under her cheek. Her hair pooled around her face, the soft strands catching the light. It was her. Her hair wrapping him in a protective cloud in his dream. Her small hands pulling him to safety. She looked ethereal as she slept, naked except for his robe and a blanket loosely wrapped around her. Relaxed in sleep, the curve of her hip, the tilt of her jaw, the soft arch of her lip...all revealed glimpses of the abandon she had shown him the previous night. He marvelled that so many had missed the latent sensuality she held just below the surface. The thought that he was the first and only to discover it caused him to draw in a breath. The intensity of emotion he felt at the thought caught him off guard. The angle of her head and the swirl of the fabric tugged at a memory, and he edged off the bed towards his drawing desk, careful not to wake her. It took him a few moments, but he found his sketchbook and pencils. Returning to his corner of the bed he settled himself against the headboard and began to draw. The slow precision of his usual design work was left behind. This was different. Her whole body called to him to be captured. He sketched quickly, impulsively, tracing every sensuous curve, every bone, every breath. He sat back after some time as if waking from a reverie. He was surrounded by pages. Pages filled with her. * * * Her side ached and her left arm was asleep. Shifting onto her back she winced at the sparking pain as the blood rushed back to her hand. She added the dull throb of a headache to her list of ailments. The fact that she wasn't in the guest bed at her mother's house slowly trickled into her mind and she sat up with a start, instantly regretting it when the throbbing headache only got worse. She twisted around to survey the rest of the bedroom. He wasn't there. The covers where he'd slept were pulled smooth. She was alone. She tugged the robe back around her shoulders and tied the belt more tightly. Where was he? He hadn't wanted to wake up next to her? After what had happened between them the previous night why would he leave her alone? Maybe he'd guessed what she'd discovered when she dragged him out of that nightmare. Letting out a deep sigh she slid off the bed, her bare feet glad of the warm floorboards. A hot shower might help. But no amount of steaming water could clear her thoughts. Wrapped again in her blue towel she rubbed at the fogged mirror and gazed at her reflection. The wild creature from the previous night was gone. Just Sarah stared back at her. She leaned her hands on the sink, dropping her chin to her chest. What the hell was she doing? She knew what her mother would say. And she'd be right of course. But she would have to face him. How could she look him in the eye without giving away what she'd witnessed the night before? She shook her head. No, he wouldn't want her pity. But what would he want? For her to pretend she didn't know? Uncertainty settled like a weight in her stomach. When she ventured down the stairs, dressed, clothes as smoothed out as they were going to get, she could smell cooking. There was music playing too, something bluesy. She made her way to the kitchen, and found him at the stove, flipping pancakes, humming along with the music. Catching sight of her, he beamed and gestured to where the table was set for two. "Morning! I made us breakfast," he announced. He moved towards her and planted a light kiss on her lips before gently pushed her towards the waiting table. Doing her best to keep her amazement from showing, she allowed herself to be directed to a chair and sat, watching him as he returned to the stove. He seemed...happy. Almost giddy, even. The image of him struggling against his nightmare in the dark flashed through her mind. It was like it had never even happened. He didn't even know she knew. The weight of that knowledge settled even heavier. She did her best to smile when he brought the food to the table and sat down across from her, but her chest felt tight and she found it hard to breathe deeply. "These are my Mom's recipe," he said, piling several of the golden circles onto her plate. "You like pancakes, right?" She nodded, mute, trying to find words, but her mind just couldn't move forward. She watched as he began attacking his food with great enthusiasm. Bringing herself back to reality she forced herself to pick up her fork and knife and began to cut the pancakes on her plate. They had blueberries in them. They smelled delicious. She couldn't help herself. She hadn't eaten since the previous day and she was suddenly ravenous. When she finally looked up from her empty plate he was settled back in his chair, watching her. That intense gaze of his. No matter how full her stomach was, his dark eyes on her still made it do a flip-flop. "You and that appetite." He sat forward, sliding his hand over hers. He rubbed a thumb gently along the inside of her wrist. She jumped slightly, his touch electric on her skin. He didn't move away, tracing the lines of her palm with his fingers and just watching her. She tried to pull away. She needed to keep her head clear. She couldn't be drawn back into the madness and abandon that happened every time she ended up in his arms. There were more serious things that needed sorting out. But he gripped her hand a little tighter and pulled at her arm more insistently, directing her up out of her seat and around the table to his chair. He tugged her down to sit in his lap. She complied, but her back was rigid, reluctant to give in when he tried to get her to put her arms around his neck. She fought the urge to melt into him. He smelled like blueberries and soap and he was so warm. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her tight against him. "So what do I do with you now, hm?" he asked, resting his chin on her shoulder. As if in answer to his question her mind, unbidden, began to play back moments from the previous night. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. With great difficulty she dragged her thoughts back to the present. She just had to get some distance. Taking a deep breath she said, "You can let me go call my mother. She's probably wondering why I didn't phone last night." He became still, seeming to think about this for a moment. When he spoke, there was a flatness in his voice. "You're not going to tell her about us, are you." It was a statement rather than a question. "What do you mean?" "You'll probably tell her you were staying with some girlfriend of yours." "I don't understand...what are you trying to say?" "Nothing...just...I don't blame you," he said, his eyes narrowing. "Probably best anyway." He released his arms from around her abruptly and she found herself thrust to her standing position as he rose to his feet. He busied himself with clearing the plates, his back to her. She stared at him, baffled, gripping the back of the chair, trying to calm the anger that sparked inside her. His words had stung. Probably because they were at least partly true. She found herself bristling, regardless. "Is that what you think of me? Or is that just your way of blowing me off?" He didn't reply, instead moved to the sink and began to wash the dishes. "So that's it then? You just judge me and move on?" She stared at his back for a few more moments. Frustrated by his silence she pushed the chair roughly, knocking it into the table leg. The loud clatter of dishes as the table rocked was a secretly satisfying sound. But when even this failed to illicit a reaction from him she turned and stalked out of the room. * * * His shoulders slumped. He was actually relieved that she'd left the kitchen. It was all he could do to stop himself from grabbing her and shaking her. Asking her why she was so giving to him one minute and cold and withdrawn the next. Where was the soft, golden, liquid creature from the previous night? Her rejection of him over breakfast had cut deep. She'd actually jumped at his touch and barely looked at him during the entire meal. In his arms she'd been stiff and unyielding, her protective armour firmly back in place. Rejected by his very own saving angel. He knew redemption was far off for him, but until that moment he hadn't realised how far. Turning off the water he moved closer to the doorway that opened up into the hall. He could hear her moving around upstairs. He went to the phone and dialled the familiar numbers for Jake's garage. Jake answered with his usual jovial abruptness. "Hi Jake, it's Will. How's it going with the car?" "Still glum, are we?" Jake asked. He didn't wait for an answer. "It won't be long now, Galahad. Part came first thing this morning and I'm just about to put it in now. Give me half an hour?" Will agreed and thanked him, settling the phone back down into its cradle. He needed to end this. When he'd woken this morning he'd actually thought, just for a few hours, that things could be different. That life could change. He'd been a fool to believe it. * * * She sat perched on the chair by the window in his bedroom, tapping her fingers against the windowsill in agitation. She could see a few small bars of reception on her cell phone. Steeling herself, she found her Auntie's number in the address book and dialled it. The phone only rang a few times before her mother answered. "Hi Mom, it's just me. How's Auntie-El doing?" "Sarah! I tried the house a few hours ago. Where are you?" She dropped her head onto her hand. Will's words burned in her mind. "I'm just over at a friend's, Mom. Do you want me to come over?" "Okay, as long as you're all right. Can you pick up some milk and some Tylenol? The heavy-duty one." "Sure thing, Mom. And I'm sorry if I worried you." "No, no...it was just after that young man picked you up yesterday. I was in such a rush to see your Auntie I couldn't place him at first. I remember his family." She paused for a moment before continuing. "Honey, they were very dysfunctional. I want you to be careful." "Dysfunctional? How do you mean?" "Don't you remember the party we went to at their farm when you were little? It was Halloween I think." "I do remember the party, Mom, what about it?" She lowered her voice and looked up at the doorway to make sure she wasn't overheard. "There was a big fuss...between the father and son and some of the older boys, don't you remember?" "No, not really-" "Sarah, I'm sorry...I've got to go. Your Auntie is calling for me. You'll pick up those things for me when you can, right?" "Yes, Mom, the car is supposed to be ready today." They said goodbye and she stared at the phone for a few moments, just listening to the dial tone before finally remembering where she was. Her mother wasn't one for passing on idle gossip. What was it that she knew about Will's family? And why didn't she remember it herself? She shivered a little. The sun had drifted behind clouds and it looked like rain might actually bring an end to the blazing heat. The house felt dark and quiet. Almost sinister. What had gone on in this place? she wondered. When she reached the bottom of the curved staircase, she could see Will getting ready to leave by the side door in the kitchen. He must have seen the gathering clouds because he was slipping into a rain coat. He looked up at her as she entered the kitchen, his expression unreadable. "Jake says your car is nearly ready. We can go pick it up." He looked out through the screen door and then back at her. "You're going to need more on than just that," he said, gesturing at her light skirt and top. He searched the coat pegs near the door and selected a dark rose-coloured spring jacket from the collection there. "Here, you can use this. It was my mother's." She accepted it from him, nodding in thanks. The fabric was soft and well-worn and smelled faintly of lavender. She was finding the bottom of the zipper when he stepped in front of her, a firm hand on each shoulder pressing her back against the coats. "So you think you can just walk away, then, without saying a word?" he asked, his voice rough and strained. His jaw was clenched, his eyes fixed on her mouth. "What do you mean-" She was cut off by his lips pressing against hers. Hard and punishing. Relentless. Nothing like the passionate seduction of the night before. She could feel her lips being ground against her teeth. She shoved at his chest with her hands, suddenly claustrophobic, trapped by his mouth and the hands on her shoulders. He must have felt her struggling against him because he stepped back, breathing hard. When she finally found her voice it was shaking with fury. "What the hell-? What is wrong with you?" He just stood there, looking back at her. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind the image of his scarred back flashed up. She closed her eyes and collapsed back against the coats. Taking a deep breath she forced her eyes open again. She could only watch, holding back the aching sobs that rose up, as he turned from her wordlessly and pushed out through the screen door into the gathering storm. * * * The rain flowed in rivulets down the windshield and pattered against the car roof. He was losing her. He he'd barely found her again and he was losing her. He'd tried to fight the mad desperation but that dark, destructive thing had taken over. He would never forgive himself for the flash of panic he'd seen in her eyes. He'd practically mauled her. He watched from the truck through the downpour of rain as she shook Jake's hand and took her keys. He hadn't gone in. He'd begged off because of the rain. Couldn't face even Jake's gentle teasing. Will, you coward, he chastised himself. He was still watching. She was standing next to her car now, her hair drenched from the rain, keys in hand, looking over at him. The look in her eyes was enough to haunt him. He turned away and twisted the keys in the ignition. Time to go. * * * Jake had been nice. He'd only given her a curious once-over look when they met and didn't ask any awkward or probing questions. Considering the fact that his friend was sitting outside refusing to come in, she decided they must know each other pretty well. The car started perfectly first time, and he'd even had it valeted. Well, she thought, at least there was one good thing to get out of today. As she made her way through the slick streets towards her mother's house, she was still mulling over everything that had happened between them at breakfast. She knew that she hadn't been herself, but after the previous night, could he blame her? Why the sudden accusations that she wouldn't admit to being with him? And then that awful moment by the door. What had he meant, her just walking away? She drove on, barely able to see through the rainy streets, her eyes full of unshed tears. The house felt empty without her mother's bustling energy to fill it, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound that greeted her. Dropping her keys on the kitchen countertop she checked the answer phone. One message and a missed call from her aunt's phone number. Was she expecting anything else? For the first time in a long time she experienced the overwhelming desire to be a little girl again. A little girl who could just crawl into her father's lap so he could hold her tight and make it all better. She pulled on fresh clothes and made an attempt to dry her hair and make herself presentable. She needed to go in search of the supplies her mother had requested. Besides, the emptiness of the house bothered her and wandering through the aisles of a store would at least keep her mind occupied. Goodness knows her mind needed to do something other than replay the last twenty-four hours. She was contemplating the vast array of pain medications in the pharmacy aisle when she was startled by a voice just behind her. "Hiii Sarah. How aaare you?" Sarah took a deep breath before turning around. "Hi Cherise." "Whatcha looking for? Got a headache? Men will do that to you, you know." Sarah noticed that she had an odd way of pursing her lips before and after she talked. Cherise continued, "Or are you planning to fake one?" She laughed then, at her own joke. Her laugh was shrill and high-pitched and set Sarah's teeth on edge. When her witticism got no response from Sarah she went back to her serious mouth-pout look. "So what, are you and Will an item now?" "I'm sorry, Cherise but I don't think that's any of your business-" "But of course it is, hon! I can't let you just walk into danger, can I?" Sarah felt her hackles rising at Cherise's tone. "I'm sure I can take care of myself, but thanks-" I know, hon, I know." Cherise said, interrupting her again. "You think I just want Will for myself, bless you. Maybe I would have done once, but I'm done with the bad boys. I go for the nice quiet ones these days." She paused long enough to look up and down the aisle as if to check that no one was in earshot. "You saw what happened in the diner, didn't you? Between Will and Kevin I mean?" Sarah nodded, resigning herself to letting Cherise say her piece. Who knows, she thought, maybe she knows something I don't. "Well," Cherise continued, "That's not the first time Will's gotten physical with someone, you know. What you saw yesterday was nothing...tip of the iceberg, darling. It never came out in the papers here, but a girlfriend of mine knew a girl who went to his college." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Sometime in his last year, your dear Will nearly killed a man." The Water Nymph Ch. 05 Sarah felt her stomach lurch. Cherise stood back now, satisfied with the look of incredulity on Sarah's face. "I know! I could barely believe it myself. And we'd grown up with him and everything!" "What happened?" "Apparently Will was having an affair with the guy's girlfriend. Some leggy blonde. They were caught together and Will just went crazy. Beat the guy within an inch of his life and left him in a coma." "Are you sure? Absolutely sure? Cherise, please don't kid around." "God's honest truth, hon." Cherise began studiously examining the clasp on her purse, smug in the bombshell she had just dropped. She left Sarah with one last beaming smile and a little wiggle of her fingers. Why do you even listen to her, Sarah berated herself as she handed her money to the cashier. She's just a silly cow trying to get under your skin out of sheer jealousy. But she knew that Cherise's story had struck a chord. When she went through it all in her mind, the list mounted up. First, the incident with Kevin in the diner. Her mother's warning. The erratic behaviour this morning. And those scars. What was the real story? What had she gotten herself into? She needed to speak with her mother. * * * He'd driven the back streets in the pouring rain for at least an hour, not really seeing the road in front of him. It was the easiest way to not think. The rhythmic sound of the wipers was hypnotic, comforting. But his subconscious drew him back and without really intending to he was turning into the familiar curving drive towards the house. The gravel crunched gently under the tires as he rolled slowly to a stop. He couldn't keep doing this. This rollercoaster was killing him. He had to clear his head. He slid out of the truck and walked past the front door. He passed by the side door as well, oblivious to the rain, his feet taking him down between the softly dripping cedars, through the deep shadows to the stillness of the pond. * * * Sarah watched as her mother tucked another pillow under Auntie-El's arm and settled her back in her recliner chair. Her great-aunt smiled up at her, eyes twinkling despite the discomfort she was in. Old wrists don't mend so quickly as young ones, she'd said. "You girls go make yourselves a cup of tea. I've a mind to take a nap now," she said, her voice frail but still full of its usual spirit. She shooed them both away with her good hand, putting an end to her mother's fussing. When they were sure she was comfortable they retreated to the kitchen, keeping their voices low. Sarah dropped several teabags into the old china pot and put the kettle on the stove to boil. Auntie-El wasn't one for having those 'new-fangled electric things,' though they both worried what damage she'd do to herself someday with that aging gas stove. "Mom," Sarah said, "Can you tell me more about what you were saying earlier. About Will's family?" Will...of course! That's his name. I remember now," her mother said, resting her elbows on the table and leaning forward. "He had a hard time I think, that boy. So did his mother, poor thing." Sarah tried not to let her anxiety show as she pressed further. "So what was the problem, then?" "It was the father, Bill. Yes, he was William senior, though everyone called him Bill. He drank, and when he did he had a temper. We didn't know how bad until that party." Sarah placed the pot on the table, covering it in one of Aunti-El's hand-crocheted tea cosies. "What happened? You said there was something that happened between Will and his father and some of the boys." "Your father would have remembered more about what happened than me." Sarah didn't miss the slight lowering of her mother's eyes as she said this, or her wistful tone. So many years now and they both still had such a hard time talking about him. Her mother continued. "I was just looking for you because it had gotten dark and we were ready to go home. I'd looked all over and was so relieved to find you. It was your father who had to go in and break it up." "Break what up? Was there a fight?" "We weren't entirely sure how it started. Something about some of the boys smashing up Will's mother's pumpkins. Either way, it ended up with your father having to physically separate Bill from his son who was bearing the brunt of his rage." Sarah tried to keep her hands from shaking as she handed her mother her teacup. So maybe that was the source of it. Beaten by his own father. And that Halloween couldn't have been the first time. She was no medical expert, but anyone could see that if he'd received the wounds of all those scars at once it would surely have killed him. Steadying her voice, she asked, "What was done about it? I mean, did anyone tell the police about what Will's father was doing to him?" "I suppose we would have, but Will took off after that. He was eighteen after all and found his way to college I think." "So where are his parents, then? He said they'd moved away and left him the house." "Well, that was a whole other story in itself. Bill didn't stop with his drinking or his temper and a couple of years ago he got himself into some trouble at a bar just outside of town. Apparently the authorities and the guy who's jaw he broke said they'd let him off with a warning if he were to make himself scarce and start fresh somewhere else." "What about his wife, Will's mother? Did she go with him?" "Yes, though you would wonder how she could, wouldn't you?" Her mother shook her head. "I suppose she was just used to it by then. What else would she have done?" They sat quietly sipping their tea for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. "Mom," Sarah said quietly, "Do you still think about Dad?" Her mother stared into her teacup for a few moments before meeting Sarah's eyes, the sadness there mirrored in her own. "Yes, sweetheart. Every day." * * * She was in her bed at her mother's house, sleepy and drifting. A strong, warm arm slipped around her waist and pulled her back against and equally strong, warm body. Will. She smiled and stretched, turning her body towards him, reaching her arms up over her head. Her breasts strained against the soft fabric of her long nightgown and she knew he was watching her, admiring her. His mouth found one of her nipples through the nightgown, wetting the fabric and suckling her gently, then not so gently. She moaned softy, arching her back to give him better access. The rub of the fabric against the sensitive flesh sent thrills down her body. His hand skimmed up her thigh, bunching the nightgown up around her waist, then smoothed across her stomach and underneath the elastic of her cotton underwear, slipping between her legs to the growing wetness there. His mouth made its way up to her neck, still suckling hard. When he found her mouth she was breathless with arousal and surrendered completely to his lips and tongue. Lost in his kiss and lifting her hips to push against the gently stroking fingers, she whimpered, her pleasure beginning to peak. But the hand pulled away and so did the lips, and strong hands rolled her away from him. Her underwear was stripped from her roughly and her nightgown pushed higher. Curled on her side she could feel his body closing in along her back and legs, his arms firmly pinning her against him. Evidence of his arousal pressed against her and before she could think he was slowly pushing into her from behind. She cried out, arching back against him, amazed at how completely he filled her. The second slow thrust sent her wild. So deep, so very deep... Sarah woke, breathing hard and drenched in a fine sweat. She gasped at the need that raged through her, her skin sensitised and sending small electric shocks to her core. "Dammit, Will! What have you done to me?" she muttered aloud. She threw off the covers and lay as still as she could, willing the heat and the sexual static to subside. She refused to give in to the fantasy of the dream and touch herself. Refused to give in to him. Feeling the madness slowly retreating she slid her legs over the edge of the bed and slowly got to her feet. Staying in bed meant falling asleep which meant maybe dreaming again, and she couldn't let that happen. This wasn't the first time she'd had the dream. It had been two days since she'd watched Will drive away into the pouring rain without another word or contact of any kind. She kept half-expecting the phone to ring, or the doorbell to buzz, but it never came. Her mother was still doing part-time secretary work for a dentist office in town, so Sarah had spent her time running errands and sitting with Auntie-El to give her mother a break. And to give herself something...anything to do to get her mind off of the memory of his brooding dark eyes and the feel of his skin under her fingertips. But at night she dreamed, and woke as she'd just done. Needing him. Cursing him because she needed him. But she fought against it. He hadn't called. She hadn't called. It was just silence. Silence and dreams which woke her up weak with wanting. She wrapped herself in her fuzzy bathrobe and padded out to the living room. If she kept the television quiet she sometimes watched early morning cartoons, careful not to wake her mother on the nights the carer was with Auntie-El and they were both home. They weren't the same cartoons she used to watch. Then it was Tiny Toons and My Little Pony. When she was little she would sneak out of bed on a Saturday morning and have the volume so low she would practically have to lip-read the cartoon characters to keep from waking her parents. But at some point she would look up, and her father would be sitting in his chair with his latest favourite book. He would pretend that he wasn't there to keep an eye on her. He never said anything to her mother about their early morning activities. Just read his book while she watched her cartoons in companionable silence. She curled up on the couch, watching the flickering images on the television without really seeing them. Tears welled up and slid down her cheeks. This was exactly why she rarely came home and only met her mother in the city or halfway. The house...the whole town even, flooded her with memories of her father. She pulled her knees up and hugged them against her chest, resting her head on the arm of the couch. She would close her eyes and try to forget, just for a little while... * * * The insistent ringing of the doorbell woke her out of a deep sleep. She was still curled up on the couch. The cartoons had long since given way to a cooking program. Head still muddled with sleep she checked the clock. It was nine-thirty. She must have been asleep for some time. Smoothing her hair, she pulled her robe more tightly around her and moved to the front door. Through the small panes of glass she could see a figure in the unmistakeable uniform and broad-brimmed hat of the local police. Past him, she could see that her mother's car was gone from the driveway. She must have slept through her leaving for work. She tried to calm the flutter of nervousness in the pit of her stomach as she unlocked the bolt and removed the chain. What did the police want with her? She cracked the door open, trying to keep as much of the door between her fuzzy bathrobe and the policeman as she could. Hearing the door open, the officer turned back towards her. He was tall, middle aged with soft careworn smile lines creasing his face. He wasn't smiling at the moment though, and his steely eyes fixed relentlessly on hers. "Morning, ma'am. Very sorry to disturb you like this." Sarah spoke aloud the first fear that came screaming through to the front of her mind. "Is it my mother? Is she okay?" "I'm sure your mother is just fine, ma'am," he replied, looking past her into the house. "I'm Officer Mitchell. There's been an incident locally and I'm looking to speak with anyone who might know anything about the individuals involved." He spoke softly but his voice held a hard edge. "May I come in?" Sarah blinked at this before answering, "Yes...yes, of course." She stepped back, letting him into the hallway before shutting the door. Gesturing towards the kitchen she followed him across her mother's immaculate wood floors to the kitchen table. She pulled out a chair for him before settling herself across from him, very conscious that she was in her pyjamas with a police officer sat across from her at her mother's kitchen table. He pulled a small pad of paper and a pen from his top pocket and flipped through a few pages before looking back up at her. When he spoke, his tone had become even more formal than before. "How would you describe your relationship with Kevin Jenkins?" She was confused for a moment, trying to think why the name was familiar. Kevin Jenkins. Kevin. The diner. "I think I know who you mean, but I only knew of him during high school and saw him for the first time in years the other day." He made a note on the paper, then asked, "Tell me about your meeting with him. What day was this?" Feeling concern creeping in now, she said, "It was about I don't know...three days ago? Tuesday I think?" A thought struck her. "If this is about the argument he had with Will at the diner, I know Will didn't lay a finger on Kevin. If Kevin's complained..." He regarded her calmly. "If you'll just hold on, I'll ask the questions, ma'am." Another note made on the paper. Sarah blushed at his reproach. He stared at her some more without blinking. "Tell me exactly what happened at the diner." It occurred to her that he wasn't asking who Will was. Had he heard this story from someone else already? The thought of Cherise fawning over the policeman made her grit her teeth. Desperately wishing she knew what damning notes he was writing about her, she continued cautiously, "Well, we...that is, Will and I, were just sitting there...at the table closest to the window. Kevin comes in and stands really close to our table and starts to talk. We didn't invite him over or anything. He said something to upset Will. Something about his father." She paused for a moment. The conversation with her mother came flooding back. "I think maybe Kevin knew that Will and his father didn't have a great relationship. It was as if Kevin was taunting him about it, I don't know." "And then?" "Will just told him to leave us alone, got up and walked out with me. Kevin seemed angry." "And that's when Will reacted aggressively towards Kevin," he said, carefully watching her, his face expressionless. "No! No, not at all. He just brushed past Kevin and walked out. Ignored him. He barely touched him..." "What do you mean, 'barely touched him'? So he did have physical contact with Kevin?" Officer Mitchell leaned forward, his questions suddenly aggressive. Sarah leaned back, defensive, "No! No...not really. When he stood up his shoulder must have caught Kevin off balance, that's all-" "Will knocked Kevin down?" "No...like I told you, Kevin lost his balance. Will didn't knock him over or hit him or anything. If Kevin fell over, it was a total accident, you have to believe me," she pleaded. "I'm just getting the facts straight, miss, it's not up to me to believe anything one way or another." She dropped her face into her hands, certain that she'd just ruined everything. "Miss. Miss?" His voice broke through her thoughts, "Do you remember anything else?" She desperately searched her mind for any further details, but it had all happened so quickly. "I'm sorry, but that's all I can remember. We just got into Will's truck and drove away." He didn't reply for a moment, as if considering his next move. When he spoke again, he looked her straight in the eye. "Kevin was found lying in a ditch just outside of town last night. He's still alive, but barely." Sarah sat back, stunned. "What? What happened?" "He's not been conscious to talk to us, which is why we've been trying to trace his recent movements. He was beaten up pretty badly by someone who knew what they were doing." He levelled a steady look at her, searching her face for any clue that she was hiding anything from him. "Is that why you're asking about Will? You think he had something to do with it?" Again, he ignored her question. "Ma'am, are you currently in..." He paused as if choosing his words carefully, "...an intimate relationship with Will?" Sarah could feel her face burning now, her earlier nerves turning to roiling knots in her stomach. "What do you mean? What has that got to do with anything?" "Just answer the question, miss, is he or is he not your boyfriend? Are the two of you intimate?" She looked at him blankly. She realised that she honestly didn't know the answer to that first question herself. What were they, then? Lovers, certainly. Not speaking to one another? Definitely. She found her voice again. "I...knew Will when I was younger. But we only met up again a few days ago for the first time." She looked down at the tablecloth, nervously fidgeting with a snagged thread. He was clearly unsatisfied with her answer, and maintained his relentless, emotionless stare. It felt as if he was looking straight through her and could see every thought that flitted through her mind. How dare he ask about her sex life? But she heard herself answer him anyway, "If you must know, yes, we've been...intimate. I'm not sure I could say I was his girlfriend. But I don't see what that has to do with the situation." "Okay,I think that's it for now." His tone was final and he was already tucking his notepad into his pocket and rising from the chair. The conversation was over. "What do you mean, that's it?" she asked, "Are you seriously looking at Will for this?" "I'm afraid I can't answer that," he said, checking his pockets and picking up his hat from where he'd placed it on the table. "You're not going to arrest him, are you?" "I'm sorry, but I can't answer that either, miss," he said, waiting patiently for her to see him out. "But Will would never-" She stopped herself. Slivers of doubt were creeping into her own mind now. As she walked the officer to the door, the image of Cherise's leering smile as she told her about how Will had nearly killed a man played out in her mind. Of course that had to be a complete fiction. Didn't it? She watched as Officer Mitchell settled his hat firmly on his head and climbed back into his patrol car. He gave the house one more glance before pulling away. She felt the urge to duck away from the window, the piercing sharpness of his eyes burned into her memory. She felt...violated by their conversation. No, not conversation...interrogation more like it. Because that's what it was, wasn't it? But had she said the right things? The wrong things? She felt the anger building in the pit of her stomach. What had Will dragged her into? Where was he when she was being cross-examined in her own house clothed in just her dressing gown? She had to go find him and get the truth. Unless, of course, he'd already gotten himself arrested. * * * She managed to find her way to the farm. The curving drive was as she remembered it, though even in the last few days the trees had begun to turn and the green was swiftly transforming into flickering gold. As she pulled her car into the drive closer to the house she could see Will's truck in its usual place by the front steps. What she hadn't expected was the smaller green convertible parked just beyond it. Will had company. Sarah stopped her car and sat for a moment. Why hadn't she thought to call? Would just the sound of his voice have been enough to cause her to lose her resolve? Confronting him in person gave her no way out. Well, whoever was there would just have to hear what she had to say. The Water Nymph Ch. 05 She closed her car door quietly, and stopped for a moment, just breathing in the air. The smell of the leaves and the earthiness of the fields still had a strange effect on her. She pushed aside the memories of her eleven-year old self and pulled her shoulders back as she walked up towards the front steps of the house. She had to take a deep breath, but firmly pressed the old brass doorbell. She heard it chime deep in the house. A minute passed, with no sound of movement. She tried again, more insistently this time. Still, moments passed without any answer. She walked around the porch to the side and peered in through the window of the kitchen door. The room was empty. She walked to the edge of the porch and leaned on the railing. "Dammit, Will. Where are you?" There was only one more place she could think of to check. The pond. The grass was still wet from the rain that had fallen over the last few days. The taller blades along the side of the path dragged against her skirt and she could feel the cold droplets soaking through the fabric to her skin. She shivered. Dark clouds still hung overhead, and as she approached the water the trees began to sway gently with the cool autumn breeze. Sarah was still well back from the pond and slightly up the hill, shadowed in the trees, when she saw them. Will came into view first as he stepped out of the boathouse onto the decking near the water. A tall, blonde woman followed him. She was holding his hand. A leggy blonde. Holding his hand. Cherise's words crashed back through into her world for the second time that day. Numb and unable to move from her vantage point, she watched as Will pulled the woman towards him. He wrapped his arms around her and turned his head to look out across the pond. She could hear the low murmur of their voices, but couldn't make out the words. They were both facing away from her. They hadn't seen her standing there. She took a faltering step back and leaned into the deep shadow of one of the cedars, the bark rough and wet under her trembling hands. She couldn't tear her eyes away, watching with heaving breaths as Will bent his head and placed a kiss on the woman's forehead and pushed back a strand of that long blonde hair. She was halfway up the path back to the house before she realised she had begun to run, cursing herself with every stumbling step, sobbing with every breath. Stupid, stupid girl! You really thought he had a thing for you? For you, of all people? And why would you want him, anyway? Trust you to fall for a cheating, lying bastard! Stupid, silly girl! She collapsed, panting, against the door of her car. Her face was wet, she was crying. Turning around to face the house, her grip on side of the car was the only thing keeping her knees from buckling. She called out in a choked voice, half hoping he would hear, "Damn you, Will! See if I care!" She stopped, embarrassed at her outburst but too angry to care. Defeated, she opened the door and climbed into the driver's seat. She tried to slam the door, but the seatbelt was caught and the door only thumped and bounced back open uselessly. Breath catching in a sob she wrestled with the door until it finally caught. Stupid, silly girl! Stupid, stupid stupid... The mantra continued to scream through her mind as she drove away. * * * Even if she had wanted to cry over Will during the next few days, it wasn't to be. She had returned home damp with rain and tears to find her mother pale and quiet, clutching a cold cup of tea at the kitchen table. Auntie-El had passed away. Unexpected, they said, but not unheard of. After all, she was eight-six. A stroke was the consensus. The fall that had sprained her wrist had likely been caused by a smaller, less damaging stroke, and it was just a matter of time. Just a matter of time. She sat with her mother at the table, listening to how she had dropped in to see Auntie-El after work and was just preparing them lunch when her mother heard a soft moan from the living room, then silence. The ambulance had been called, but apparently there was nothing her mother could have done. Sarah stepped in front of the mirror and tugged at the dark navy dress she'd bought for the funeral. She knew her Auntie-El wouldn't have wanted her to wear black. It was a hasty purchase, but she wanted something nice for saying farewell to her great-aunt. It was nothing like the black polyester monstrosity she'd been forced to wear to her father's funeral. It had itched at the neck and pulled under the arms. She was an awkward fourteen-year old then, in the middle of a growth spurt and nothing fit her. Everyone had clucked and tutted and treated her like a child and she had desperately wanted to scream at all of them that she wasn't a child. She was grown up, couldn't they see? Grown up enough to watch her father die, wasn't she? She smoothed her hair for the hundredth time, straightening the strand of freshwater pearls she'd borrowed from her mother. Her mother hadn't cried much since she'd found Auntie-El slumped in her chair, eyes closed and hands peacefully folded in her lap. She hadn't cried much when Sarah's father died either. At least not in front of her. The house had just gone quiet and still. No tears, but no words or laughter either. That silence had made her want to scream and scream and never stop. * * * The wind held the bite of the coming winter. Sarah pulled her thin jacket tighter, watching as the funeral-goers slowly dispersed along the path to the cemetery parking lot, their duty done and desperate to escape the cold. She didn't blame them. Who would want to hang around with death under a darkening sky? Turning to check on her mother, she could see her surrounded by her closest female friends, quietly talking together and putting their arms around her in turn. Sarah took one last look at the grave, the small grey casket shining softly against the dark earth, strewn with flowers and a few symbolic handfuls of soil. Her aunt was long gone, and for Sarah, no sense of her presence remained. That or she was just too numb by the events of the past few days to feel anything at all. She turned towards the row of trees lining the driveway that snaked its way through the gravestones. Several figures were standing there, motionless. She swore they were looking in her direction. When they started moving towards her, she was certain of it. The person in the middle had an unmistakable walk. Will. She whirled away, wrapping her arms around herself in an attempt to calm the heaving of her insides. What was he doing here? What right had he to intrude on her family's grief? She wrestled with the urge to run away, but she could already hear feet approaching her from behind. "Sarah?" She half-turned, but only far enough to bring his feet into view, unable to raise her gaze to meet his eyes. She took a deep breath. "What do you want?" "Sarah...I'm sorry. About your great-aunt. They only just told me...I didn't know." She finally looked up enough to register the fact that Will was still flanked by two other men, though they stood some meters back from him. They were dressed like Officer Mitchell, their hats at their sides out of respect for where they were. Policemen. They were alert, but they kept their eyes focussed somewhere in the distance. They certainly weren't interested in her. She finally looked up into Will's face. The look in his dark eyes still managed to have an effect her breathing. "What's going on?" she demanded, nodding her head towards his entourage. "Don't mind them," he said, gesturing faintly to the men behind him. "They're just making sure we don't talk about things we shouldn't." "Like what?" "Like Kevin. But that's not why I'm here-" "What do you mean? I don't understand..." "Sarah, the police think I was involved somehow. In what happened to Kevin." "Were you?" "I told you, I can't talk about it with you, okay?" Sarah blinked, trying to take this in. "Have they arrested you?" She was surprised at the alarm this thought brought her, despite the lead weight of betrayal she still felt. "Not officially. Apparently I'm a 'person of interest.'" He gestured with his head towards his chaperones, attempting to smile. "They thought I should have some company until they make up their minds. But like I said...I can't talk about it." "Then why are you here?" "Your great-aunt...I'm sorry, Sarah. I came as soon as I heard." She turned away, rubbing her eyes, trying very hard to keep her emotions under control. "And why would you care? You didn't know her." "No, but I know you and I knew you would be upset-" Sarah stiffened, her anger bubbling back to the surface. "Really? So now you know how I feel?" "I just wanted to make sure you were all right..." "All right? All right?" She turned and took a step closer to him, conscious of the tremor in her voice. "After everything you've done you want to know if I'm all right?" "What? What have I done?" He stepped closer, attempting to pull her into his arms, his eyes dark with concern. "Please...just talk to me.." She shrugged him off and began to walk quickly in the direction of the parking lot. What had he done? What had he done? How could he ask that? She felt his hand on her arm as he tried to keep up with her, but she shook him off. When he attempted to grab her again she finally stopped and turned so abruptly he nearly ran into her. "Sarah, please stop this. What's the matter? I know we didn't leave things well, but I'm willing to work it through." He paused for a moment. "You don't seriously believe I'm mixed up in this Kevin thing, do you?" But the only image in her mind was not of Kevin. It was of Will holding the blonde woman down by the pond, the tender hand reaching up to stroke that other woman's hair... "You need to leave me alone." "But Sarah-" She turned again and increased her pace towards the cars. A brief look back told her that Will had given up following her. The last she saw was him framed between the two policemen, his shoulders slumped in defeat against the dark brooding line of trees. * * * They were in his bedroom, she was naked, her wrists pinned above her head by strong hands. His hands. Held tight against the smooth wood of the bedpost, her legs captured between his. She was helpless, exposed. He was very casually taking it in turns to lick, suck and bite her throbbing nipples, moving back and forth between each sensitive peak, teasing and torturing her with pleasure. He took the sensitive bud into his mouth slowly, unhurriedly swirling with his tongue, circling it and sucking. She barely recognised the incoherent sounds she made as her own, the exquisite sensations driving her to madness. She struggled against his grip, willing his body closer to hers, arching towards him. Every movement of his tongue made her ache more keenly. He was still fully-clothed. Naked and vulnerable, being exposed for him completely only made her hotter, wilder, more ready for him. He shifted her wrists so he could hold them with one hand, leaving his other hand free to run his fingers over her skin. His touch was agonising and feather-light, leaving a trail of fire down her neck and across her shoulder. The teasing caress drifting down between her bare breasts and along the curve of her stomach before sliding lower. He dipped his fingers into her wetness with an infuriating leisureliness, ignoring her feverish attempts to move his hand closer or his fingers deeper. Her hips wriggling against him in her desperate need to be satisfied. She wanted more. She wanted everything. But he still denied her, tormented her, only letting his fingers drift so far, no further. Leaning his body in close against hers he teased her even more, lowering his head and seizing her mouth in a rough kiss. He took her lips, her tongue, her breath...took it all for himself. He shifted against her, the fabric of his shirt grazing against her nipples, setting them on fire and eliciting a moan from his captive. He slowed the kiss, deepened it, made it darker, took more. The more he took, the more she gave. His tongue dipped fleetingly into her mouth just as he plunged a finger deep into the wet heat between her legs. She went wild, crying out against his mouth when he cruelly withdrew both his tongue and his fingers. Whimpering, struggling against his restraining hand she begged wordlessly. Again. Do it again. She woke with a start in her own bed, gasping. Never before had she needed anything as much as she needed him. But where was he? Where was he now? She rolled over vehemently, her scream of frustration muffled against her pillow. Damn you Will! Damn you... * * * "We're going for lunch at the Italian place, did you want to come?" Sarah looked up from her computer screen into the inquiring eyes of several of her work colleagues. She could hear it in their voices and see it in the way they looked at her. Concern mixed with curiosity. She wasn't about to feed their office chatter though, no matter how well-meant. That and she just didn't have the energy. To make small talk. To smile. She attempted a pleasant expression and shook her head no, adding a quiet, "No thanks," ignoring their shrugs and raised eyebrows. She was down from 300 to 80 unread emails. Work was a distraction, but she was still struggling to feel any sort of interest in even her favourite projects. Granted, being a sub-editor wasn't the world's most exciting vocation, but she usually got some level of satisfaction out of doing her bit to ensure the magazines got out in time and without too many disasters. She'd never gotten around to telling Will what she'd made of her journalism scholarship. She doubted he would have been too impressed. Not that it mattered. A week after the funeral her mother had finally convinced her, after much nudging and hinting, to go back to the city, assuring her that she was fine and was happier just getting on with things. Sarah had to admit that she hadn't been the best company either and suspected her mother preferred having her out of the house. There was a short lull in the phone calls and meetings while everyone else was on lunch, and Sarah took the opportunity to finally look into the one thing she had been meaning to investigate. Opening her browser she tried several search words without success. Nothing came up under Will's name, combinations of his name and the college or anything to do with an assault. She was about to admit defeat when it occurred to her to check for newspaper articles from any papers local to the college. Surely they would have online archives these days, she thought. As she clicked onto the website, she was surprised to see that they had searchable archives going back nearly 100 years. She had tried the search again with his name and came up with nothing, but then noticed that she could browse by year. Clicking on 1997 she started to scroll through the pages one at a time. Many pages went by without success. She was again near giving the search up as futile when a phrase caught her eye on one of the columns. The article was short, the text somewhat blurry in places where it had been scanned from the original. The details were brief but it was enough to cause the deep sinking feeling that now gripped at her insides. "STUDENT ARRESTED FOR ASSAULT ON LOCAL MAN Police have released the name of the 24 year old local man found severely beaten at a student residence on Sunday. Jason Aldridge is in critical condition according to a hospital spokesperson, and it is uncertain at this time when he will regain consciousness. Police have arrested a 21 year old student on suspicion of aggravated assault." There were two grainy images accompanying the short paragraph. One was a cropped-in snapshot of a young man she assumed must be the victim, Jason. The other was a yearbook-style headshot. Despite the fuzzy printing there was no mistaking the dark eyes that stared out at her. The sounds in the office around her disappeared into a sudden vacuum and she was left in a world of silence, transfixed by the image of a much-younger Will on her screen. Unable to look away from the same mouth that had smiled at her, kissed her, told her she was beautiful. The same eyes that had looked into hers with such desire and tenderness and vulnerability. She barely made it to the bathroom before being sick. Shaking, she propped herself against the cubicle wall, trying to keep her legs steady underneath her and calm herself. Somehow she'd known this was coming. The awful moment when the truth of it could no longer be avoided. She had fallen for him. For his intense gazes and his whole I've-been-waiting-ten-years-for-you ploy. Hook, line and sinker. Was that why he'd been gone from town all that time? Had he actually be in prison for a previous crime? How naïve could she have been? She'd opened herself up to him, confided in him...given her body to him. And he had betrayed her. When she eventually emerged from the bathroom stall it took her some moments before she could look at herself in the mirror. Running cool water over her hands and face, she finally took a long look into the eyes of the person she saw there. She was different. Changed. Had it been only weeks since she had gotten into his truck? Walked into that house and into a trap? She surveyed her whole face...there was a sort of hollowness there, a deep weariness underlying everything. She longed to sink into it and down and down and not fight for the surface anymore. * * * The dream was different this time. Every other night she found herself in his arms, begging for him, bending her body to his will. Each time she woke, overwhelmed with disgust for her own weakness, shaking with anger and longing. But the dream was different this time. She stood on the edge of a dock, everywhere she looked was ringed with dark trees. There was no sound. No smell. The light from the sky was dim, like the strange twilight darkness that comes before a storm. Why was she here? She had heard someone...calling. Calling her name. The oily-dark water oozed around the pilings. Suddenly she was toppling in, sinking down, looking up to where the pale light pushed its way through the freezing cold murkiness. She looked down and she saw a reaching hand, then a face. It was him, calling to her in a silent voice, his arms outstretched to her. But she couldn't reach him. Couldn't put her hand out to touch the pale fingers. He slipped out of view, and was gone, leaving her with the last image of his dark staring eyes. Sarah woke in her bed in a tangle of bed sheets. Her face was wet with tears, her chest aching. Waking to the truth that she had lost him. That since she was a little girl, she had loved him. But the boy she thought she knew was gone, and maybe the boy she loved had never even existed. The tears came now. All the tears she hadn't cried for Auntie-El. All the tears she hadn't allowed herself when her father died. All the tears that the silence of those years had kept locked up tight. The emotions swept through her like a summer thunderstorm. Jumbled thoughts and memories flowed through her mind like dark clouds driven onwards by the wind. When the tears came like rain they burned into the unhealed wounds of her loss and grief. She wept until she was empty of all feeling and devoid of sensation. The numbness brought calm and then deep, black sleep. The Water Nymph Ch. 06 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * This is a continuous story, so I would recommend reading the previous chapters for background on the characters and certain plot points. A massive thank you to everyone who has given me feedback and encouragement so far. All votes and comments are greatly appreciated! x bd * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Life went on somehow. Well, it went on all around her at least. Sarah often felt she was inextricably tied to some fixed point in time with life just flowing all around her and past her, buffeting her with its passing. Autumn was definitely showing a wintery edge now, and the bustle of other things living and moving and breathing slowly began to revive her. There were days now when Will's betrayal wouldn't come to her mind so often and she felt she could breathe a little more freely. She told herself that finding out about his violent past helped her to leave the whole episode behind her. What more was there to contemplate? He was no good. He was a danger to himself and others and she was much better off with him out of her life. And some days she even believed it. She talked to her mother often, but somehow they both knew she wouldn't be visiting anytime soon. The silence that had engulfed them both when her father died seemed to have intensified since they buried Auntie-El. Instead, they filled the void with surface things. What had happened at work that week. What the weather was like. What they'd watched on television. Anything but the gaping holes left behind by the people they loved. What her mother guessed about what had happened between her and Will Sarah didn't know, and she was surprised when her mother brought him up during one of their weekly phone calls. "Sarah, you'll never guess who was in today for a clean and polish." Sarah was curled up on her small sofa, still in her work clothes but too tired to change into anything more comfortable, the phone clenched between her ear and her shoulder. "Haven't a clue Mom, who?" She tilted her head back, her eyes lazily following the plaster swirls on the ceiling. This was a game they played often, and Sarah dutifully suffered her mother's excitement over the small events of the day. But her mother's voice held a little more than the usual level of enthusiasm in the guessing game. "Mrs Jenkins!" "Mrs Jenkins?" Sarah thought for a moment, struggling to place the name. Why was it familiar? Her mother jumped in, "You know, the mother of that boy that got himself knocked about?" Realisation of who she meant gradually dawned on Sarah. "Who? You mean Kevin? Kevin Jenkins?" Sarah sat up slowly, gripping the phone. Pleased to have Sarah's full attention, her mother continued, "Yes, that's the one. I did tell you how it all turned out in the end, didn't I?" Without waiting for Sarah to reply she continued, "It was all during that time you were here, but so much happened then...with Auntie-El passing away..." her mother drifted off, a twinge of sadness in her voice at the memory. Ignoring the flutter of fear in the vicinity of her solar plexus Sarah kept her voice as level as she could. "I heard something about it, Mom. Not what happened in the end, but enough." "Oh, but it caused some excitement in town, that's for sure. Who knew we had anyone dealing drugs, let alone growing them!" Sarah sat for a moment, slightly stunned. Drugs? Oh god, she thought, could anything more be possibly added to the darkness that already surrounded Will? "Drug dealing? What do you mean, Mom?" "That Jenkins boy! It turns out he was growing the stuff! Out on the abandoned railway tracks...he had a whole set-up they said." "Do you mean Kevin? Kevin was selling drugs?" "No, not selling really...not directly at least. He was growing it for some other men who sold it. But he got in trouble with them. We never did hear exactly why." "So what happened?" Sarah asked, trying very hard to hide her impatience. "Well, Bill's boy was in the frame for the attack initially. But it all came out in the end when Kevin woke up. The police had a nice long chat with him. He had the cheek to ask for protection from the men that did it." "So you mean...you're saying that they let Will off?" "Oh yes," her mother said, "it wasn't anything to do with him. I suppose the police just remembered his father's temperament and thought he was a likely suspect. Apples not falling far from trees and all that nonsense." Sarah tried to calm her racing mind and focus her thoughts. "Mom, I need to ask you something, and I really need you to tell me anything you know." Her mother paused before answering, startled by the intensity in Sarah's voice. "Okay, dear, of course. Go on then..." "Do you know anything about what happened to Will when he was in college? Anything about him getting into a fight with anyone? Anything at all?" There was silence on the line for a few moments. "No...no, I don't remember anything distinctly. After that party at the house your father and I tried to keep as far away from that family as possible. Why do you ask?" "It's nothing...don't worry about it." "Okay dear. If I remember anything I'll let you know." Sarah hung up the phone after saying goodbye, and sat staring at it for some time. So he hadn't hurt Kevin after all. But what did that mean? Nothing. Nothing at all. It didn't erase the fact that he'd practically murdered someone else. How could she be blamed for assuming he'd done it again? Her thoughts drifted as they often had to the scars she'd seen on him that night, and the knowledge of where they'd come from. Was he just like his father? Moulded into violence after all the beatings he'd endured? What other answer could there be? Her musings were interrupted, as they often were, by the image of him with his arms around the blonde woman. It still haunted her thoughts and her dreams, filling her with self-disgust. Violent or no, there was nothing she could imagine that would erase that moment for her. * * * "I'm coming...coming...just hold on a second!" Sarah grumbled, even though she knew whoever it was downstairs couldn't actually hear her. She finished pulling on her work-out pants and headed in the direction of the apartment door intercom, which buzzed insistently for the third or fourth time. It was nearly November and the days were becoming so short she could barely motivate herself to leave the comfort of her apartment. She wasn't expecting anyone and she hoped that correcting the errant bell-ringer wouldn't make her late for Pilates. Especially as it'd be the first time she'd actually made it to class. She pushed the intercom buzzer down and tried to maintain her grip while hopping on one foot, attempting to slide into her gym shoes at the same time. "Yes? Who is it?" She let the button go, waiting impatiently for an answer. Her lace had gotten trapped under her foot and she tugged at it despairingly. A voice crackled through the speaker. Female. Not too old. "Uh...you don't know me. My name's Shannon." Sarah paused for a moment, staring at the box on the wall and then back at her shoe. Finally, she depressed the button again. "Which apartment are you looking for? Have you got the right bell?" "I think so. Is this Sarah?" She frowned, suspicious. "Sorry, can I ask who this is?" "Like I said...my name is Shannon." There was silence for a moment, then, "I'm a friend of Will's." Sarah froze in the middle of bending down to untangle the errant laces. Just the sound of his name had an effect on her similar to a punch in the stomach. "Sorry, are you there?" The voice crackled in the speaker again. Sarah stood up slowly, resting her palms on her thighs, trying to steady her breathing and cursing the weakness in her knees. She took a deep breath and leaned on the intercom once more. "Yes, this is Sarah. What do you want?" There was a pause, then, "I just want to speak with you." Another pause. "It's important." After a few moments of indecision Sarah found herself pressing the door release button. "I'm on the 6th foor. Number 628." She paced around the living room, looking down at her workout clothes, trying to decide whether to change into something else. Her dilemma was cut short by a sharp knock on the door. Her mystery guest was here. Moving quietly to the door, Sarah took a long look out of the peephole. She regretted it instantly. The woman standing outside her door had blonde hair. Long...blonde hair. The pond. It was the woman from the pond. Oh god. She leaned her forehead against the door and told herself to breathe. Just...breathe. Steeling herself, she twisted the bolt and pulled the chain across. She cracked the door open and faced her rival. Deep green eyes stared back at her from a wide face framed with poker-straight golden hair. She was taller than Sarah by several inches, and naturally slim. Before she could catch herself, the words were out of her mouth. "I can see why he would prefer you." She felt the heat rise up her neck to her face as soon as the words were out. What on earth had possessed her to say that out loud? The green eyes blinked. "Uh..hi. I'm not quite sure what you mean, but...hi?" The woman...Shannon, seemed very calm, composed. "Can I come in?" Sarah stepped back, opening the door a little wider. Shannon advanced into the front hallway, and followed Sarah as she retreated into the living room. For a moment Sarah saw her humble possessions through her visitor's eyes. Her apartment was simple, but she'd always felt it was cosy. Suddenly it all looked worn and childish. "So what is it you need to talk to me about?" Sarah turned, arms firmly crossed, aware of how defensive she sounded, but not caring. Shannon faced her and gave her a steady look. "I need to talk to you about Will." Again, the words were out of Sarah's mouth before she could temper them. "Why? I'm not laying any claim on him. He's all yours. And you're welcome to him." "Okay. I'm a little confused." Shannon raised her eyebrows, looked around and said, "Do you mind if we sit down? This already feels a bit awkward." Sarah nodded towards the two chairs pushed up against her small table. She watched as Shannon pulled one out and sat down before she slowly sank down into the opposite chair, keeping her distance and crossing her arms protectively across her body. "So what, you have some message to pass on from Will? If he's got something to say he should come and say it to my face," she said, trying desperately to keep her voice steady, finding it difficult to meet the other woman's eyes. "Will doesn't know I'm here," Shannon said, carefully folding her gloves on top of her purse. She regarding Sarah silently for a few moments. "Okay, so who is it that you think I am?" "Does it matter?" "Yes, it matters, because you're being incredibly hostile for someone who doesn't actually know me." Sarah rubbed a finger along the edge of the table, fighting the hurt and humiliation that bubbled up at the memory of this woman in Will's arms. "If you must know, I saw you together. You and Will. At the pond by his house." "Together...you mean? Ohh." Shannon stopped, comprehension dawning on her face. She smiled, "Sarah, I think you might have the wrong impression-" "Wrong impression? You were holding hands. He was holding you. Stroking your hair. What sort of impression was I supposed to have?" Sarah stopped and sat back, shocked at the level of rage in her shaking voice. Shannon leaned towards her, putting out a hand. "I'm sorry hon, you have totally the wrong idea. I'm not with Will. At all. I never have been. What you saw...that's just the way Will and I have always been." "What, you want me to believe you're just good friends?" Sarah said, recoiling slightly. Shannon sat back and looked down at her clasped hands before answering, choosing her words carefully. "Well, 'just friends' probably isn't quite right. Best friends really. He's the big brother I never had, if you can believe that. We met in college in the first week and we just...clicked. It was never an attraction thing. He was just always there for me." "Then why was he holding you?" "He was comforting me, if you must know." Now it was Shannon's turn to pause, her shoulders slumping slightly and her face taking on a sudden vulnerability. "I'd had...some bad news." She stopped again before raising her eyes to Sarah's. Sarah took a deep breath. The depth of pain in Shannon's eyes caught her off-guard. "I don't like to talk about it. It's all stuff I'd rather leave behind me, but you know how it is. It just comes back to bite you again when you least expect it." Shannon went back to studying her hands, stroking one thumb against the other as if to provide some small comfort through the pain of what she was saying. "When Will and I were in college, I was going out with a guy. An older guy. Let's just say that he was probably not the best choice. Will warned me time after time but I was too caught up thinking I was in love. When Will found out that Jason was hitting me he nearly went ballistic. I promised Will I would end it just to calm him down. But I think he knew I hadn't done it yet, and he came to the house one night to check on me. That night I'd actually tried to leave Jason, but he wasn't having it and was letting me know...with his fists." She looked back up at Sarah, taking a shaky breath. "I'm not sure if you know the rest. Most people heard parts of it." "I found a news-clipping...about the incident," Sarah said quietly, desperately trying to take it all in. Trying to imagine Will in this other life. "Well, as they say, don't believe everything you read, okay? They like to twist things around. I'm not saying he should have done what he did. But then again, if he'd just called the police I might not still be here." Sarah tried to breathe, her chest tight with apprehension. "So what happened?" "Jason was getting tired of just hitting me and was moving on to the kitchen knives." Shannon paused, swallowing. She continued, her voice quiet, but controlled. "Will must have heard me screaming from outside the house. He burst in...broke the door off its hinges. I don't remember much of the rest. I do remember lying curled up on the kitchen floor watching Will slam Jason's head against the linoleum over and over." She looked away, blinking and shaking her head. "I'd never seen him like that. My gentle Will." She looked back at Sarah. "But he saved my life. You have to know that." Sarah blinked back stinging tears. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know. Someone told me that Will was having an affair and it was a jealous boyfriend that he attacked." Shannon let out a short scornful laugh. "Yes, there were always rumours floating around. Usually started by useless girls who were just jealous that Will wasn't their very own knight in shining armour." Sarah felt her cheeks become warmer, guilt pricking at her over having believed one of those useless girls herself. She cursed herself silently. Why had she allowed Cherise' words to get through to her? Still, she needed to know more, no matter how awful the truth might be. "Shannon, what happened after that? Will did hurt your boyfriend...Jason, didn't he? Didn't he go to prison for it?" "No, no...they did charge him initially but when they saw the state I was in and heard the whole story, there was no way they could really get a conviction. It was ruled as self-defence and the case was dropped. My asshole boyfriend got himself locked up instead. Apparently it wasn't the first time the coward had beaten up a woman. That's why I went to see Will that day, when you saw us together. I'd just heard that Jason was being considered for parole. Thankfully he got denied, but every time it comes up...Will...he's just the only one I can talk to." Sarah stared at the table-top, trying to absorb everything Shannon had just told her. She didn't know why, but Shannon's story felt real. It felt like truth. And if what she was saying was in fact true, it also meant that he had not betrayed her after all. But the thought continued to nag her. It didn't erase the fact that he had a capacity for violence. He hadn't been the one to actually attack Kevin, but what about the hostility she'd seen in him? She couldn't shake that last sliver of fear. "Shannon, I want to believe you. I just don't know if I can bring myself to trust him." Shannon looked at her steadily for a few moments. "Well, that's something you're going to have to decide for yourself, hon. You need to think really hard about what your heart is telling you about this man." They sat in silence for a few moments. Sarah blinked and rubbed her eyes. She felt like she was in some strange dream. A question finally surfaced in her mind. "But why did you come to see me? Not just to tell me that, surely?" "No, it wasn't that, though I'm glad you know. I want you to know what sort of a man Will is." Shannon paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words. "Sarah, I came today because I think I made a mistake." Sarah watched as Shannon opened her purse and searched inside before producing a white envelope. She slid it across the table her. Sarah saw to her surprise that it had her name and apartment address on it. "What is this?" "Open it." Sarah carefully tore open the envelope and pulled out the contents. It was a printed invitation for an art show. The gallery address was not far from her office, and Shannon's name showed as the gallery curator. Turning it over she saw several small thumbnails of paintings. And Will's name. Sarah looked up at Shannon. "I don't understand." "I was never the artist that Will was, so I have a few galleries I manage here in the city. When I visited Will that day...the day you saw us by the pond...as soon as I saw him I knew something was different. He was different. He seemed so full of life. There was a light in his eyes. Like he had something to fight for, but in a good way, you know? I was too upset to really think much of it at the time. But when I saw what he was working on I begged him to do a show." Sarah shook her head. "I didn't even know he was painting anything..." "The thing is, I went back to see him when they accused him of beating up that other guy." Shannon stopped, a pained expression on her face. "You can imagine how responsible I felt for them suspecting him, considering what he did for me. But it wasn't that. He was pretty calm about that. It was something else, and I've never seen him in such a dark place." Sarah blinked hard, thinking back to their last conversation. Seeing him drive off into the rain without a backward glance, her heart twisting into painful shreds. And then how she'd brushed him off at the graveyard. She'd seen how her words had crushed him. She had to ask. "Is he okay?" "Well, that's why I'm here, really." Shannon paused again before looking Sarah in the eye. "I thought I was doing the right thing, Sarah. I saw him in pain and when I found out about you I just wanted to protect him. Protect him from being hurt again. So when he gave me the gallery invitations to send out and I saw your name..." She paused, her eyes low. "What?" "I didn't send it. He thought I did, but I didn't. He wanted you there. Needed you there, actually. I know that now. I watched him searching the crowd every night. He was looking for you. I thought keeping you away would help him, but it only made him worse." Sarah thought for a moment before speaking. "What has he told you about me...us?" "He didn't say much. He didn't have to." "What do you mean?" "I think you need to see the show." Sarah took another look at the date on the card. The show was due to end the next day. Tonight was the last night. She took an unsteady breath. "Is he going to be there?" The Water Nymph Ch. 06 "No. I think he gave up on you coming to see it after the first week." Sarah continued to stare at the invitation, smoothing her fingers over Will's name. Shannon rose to her feet. "I think I'd better leave you be. I hope you'll go tonight. Please do. Do it for him?" Sarah nodded, her mind racing. She got up and showed Shannon to the door, even tentatively embracing her before she stepped into the hall. * * * Light poured through the gallery window and pooled across the street to where Sarah stood. She'd repeatedly willed her feet to move but they refused to obey her. She could see people going in and out, milling inside in small groups, pausing before the flashes of colour on the walls. Come on you coward, she thought. Time to have the slightest bit of courage. And he's not even in there. Just GO. This time her feet moved and before she knew it she was pushing through the glass door into the warm glow of the angled halogens. The faint smell of oil paint greeted her along with the soothing murmured conversation of the other guests. A woman smiled at her, and offered to take her coat, which she cautiously relinquished. She couldn't help but focus her eyes everywhere but the paintings. She would have to look at them sometime. As she moved into the gallery space she was surprised to see that all the paintings had a common feel and texture. When Shannon had said they'd done a show of his paintings she didn't realise she meant it would be the entire gallery. When had he done all of this? She turned in amazement at the sheer volume of works. And then she caught sight of it. The painting was at the centre of the gallery at the back. It was a good five feet across and fully lit. Somehow it was as if the brushstrokes magnified the surrounding light, causing it to shine like beacon across the space. It reminded her of another painting she had once seen. Something by Klimt with fey maidens entwined in river plants with seductive, dangerous eyes. It was like that but the foremost maiden...well, it was her. Her face, her hair...her breasts. Oh god. There was no mistaking it. As she walked towards the painting a few people glanced at her, surprise registering on their faces as they recognised her. She stopped a few feet from the painting and stared at it intently. It was her, all right. But it was some alien, wanton, confident seductress version of her. Sarah felt her face grow warm as she took in the pale, radiant nudity, barely covered by the swirling blonde hair. Her own blue eyes stared back at her with a brazenness she couldn't believe she'd ever felt for herself. She tried to cover her own steadily reddening face, but instead of the mortification she thought she would feel, she felt...proud. He had painted her...beautiful. Her. Mousy, wallflower her. A flowing golden apparition on canvas. Her eyes dipped to the white label to the right of the painting. The name of the piece stood out in deep black letters, 'The Water Nymph'. She was going to kill him. She was just going to kill him. She turned, and saw that a number of the other guests had gathered around, looking back and forth between her and the painting and smiling. But they weren't laughing at her. Curious, maybe. Friendly, even. As she moved along to the smaller paintings on the side wall, they let her pass. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was somehow part of the show. Like she was the last painting, arriving to be hung up next to all the others. There were many more paintings of the pond and the surrounding trees, all in different lights and from various angles. Each of them captured a different mood. Each of them was breathtakingly beautiful. Many were dark. There were more water maidens, but they were distant, their features obscured, or disappearing into watery depths. As she made her way to the end of the wall, one small painting captured her attention. It was painted with finer, more careful strokes in incredible detail. Surrounded by the blue-blackness of twilight, the back and shoulders of a little girl could be seen. The girl was running, her hair streaming behind her. Clutched against her side was a glass canning jar, the type you would use for preserves. The inside of the jar was bathed with the glow of a firefly. She could just make out its delicate wings. Wings. Just like the fairy wings swinging from the back of the running girl. She reached out, just catching herself before she touched the small canvas. Her eyes closed, the memory of that night rushing back to her. The cool breeze, the smell of the leaves and wood smoke. The firefly he'd helped her catch and carefully placed in the jar, showing her how to make holes in the lid so that it got enough air. The feeling of his hand gripping her arm as they ran together towards the barn. He held her arm so tight it nearly hurt. The sound of angry voices. Shouting. Her own frightened voice, begging him not to go. He told her to leave, to go find her parents and kept pushing her away. She refused, clutching the jar to her chest. He dragged her towards the side of the barn and she started to cry. She could feel his hand on her shoulder, hear him talking, trying to calm her. Then he made her put the jar down, taking both her hands in his. He was telling her to put her hands over her ears. To sit quietly and put her hands over her ears and not to stop for anything. She was nodding, staring up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. And then he was gone. She opened her eyes and drew in a sharp breath, blinking back the biting stab of remembered tears. She searched the wall next to the painting for the name card. But it was simply labelled 'Untitled' and where the price should be, the words 'Not for sale' stood out starkly on the white card. She turned to have one last look at the glowing painting on the far wall before taking her coat from the smiling woman and quietly slipping out in the night. * * * Work seemed to progress with even more infuriatingly slowness than the average Friday. The numbness Sarah felt as she left the gallery had stayed with her. Sleep had been fitful at best, full of slivers of dreams and nightmares and jumbled memories. When she caught herself yet again staring blankly at a screen full of document folders, she dropped her head into her hands and rubbed at her forehead in an attempt to smooth away the tension. What was she supposed to do? Everything she'd thought to be true had been turned on its head in the past twenty-four hours, and the implications of everything she'd learned were only just trickling through. She had been wrong. Wrong about Will and wrong about Shannon. What else had she been mistaken about? And was it too late anyway? The paintings had looked an awful lot like someone doing their best to get something...someone out of their system for good. Was there any chance of repairing the damage? Should she even try, or would she just be making the wound deeper? But Shannon seemed to think she could make some difference. If sending her to see those paintings had been Shannon's way of trying to convince her that Will had held some depth of feeling for her then she'd succeeded in that at least. The paintings. The image that she thought should have lingered most in her mind was the shining nude painting. After all, she was exposed for all to see. But it was the little girl with the firefly that she saw every time she closed her eyes. Why had she not remembered the barn before now? Was she just making things up? Was her mind playing tricks or was it a real memory? With great relief, Sarah wearily greeted five o'clock by shutting down her computer and making her way home. When she got into her apartment she pulled her overnight bag down from the top shelf of the closet, packed a few things, called her mother, and slid into bed in time to fall into an exhausted, dreamless sleep. * * * He was drowning again. Darkness gripped him tight and dragged him down, always down. He couldn't see. Couldn't breathe. He tried to scream. To cry for help. He saw the light bloom above him. But there was no pale hand...no halo of golden hair. This time the light was not from her. The light drew closer, and he could see it was the ripple of flames. It was burning. The barn was burning. He was running into the flames, but now there was no water to be found. Nothing to put out the fire. Only flames. Cold, hard flames burning, licking their way up his legs, flickering at his outstretch hands. The roaring filled his ears and the light grew so bright he could no longer bear to look. The fire was consuming the barn, its appetite relentless. He felt himself falling...falling into the freezing fire, and darkness. * * * She had been awake since four and sat by the window until the first blush of dawn lightened the sky. Her mind had cleared. She knew that she had to see him. Had to say things that had to be said, and try to unsay a few as well. Her mind danced around the question. Had her lack of faith hurt him so badly that he was done with the whole thing? What if he'd moved on and wanted nothing to do with her? She pushed these thoughts aside. If it was so, then so be it. The sense of urgency was something she couldn't shake, however. The one thought that rang through her mind over and over was "What if I'm too late?" But too late for what? She didn't know. Her mother had to work an extra shift at the dentist office for most of the day, but had promised they would have dinner together when she arrived. That meant that her first stop would be the farm. There was no escaping it. By the time she started to see other cars on the road she was nearing the outer limits of the town. She was taking exactly the same route the day her car had broken down, and the irony was not lost on her. Jake's fix was sound, however, and while she subconsciously slowed as she passed the place where she'd first looked into those dark fathomless eyes, the engine purred onwards quietly, mocking her with its reliability. If only she could rewind to that day and start again. If only. As she passed some of the outlying farms she could see the Halloween decorations and piles of pumpkins for sale. How strange that things seemed to keep coming back around full circle. Finally, the familiar turn-off came into view and she steered the car slowly down the drive. She had to take a depth breath to calm the sudden nerves and the sick feeling churning in her stomach. Something flashed past in her peripheral vision and she brought the car to an abrupt stop. Slowly reversing back to the spot, she leaned closer to the windshield to examine what had caught her eye. On the main fence post, angled to the road, was a realtor sign. 'For Sale' it said in big, red letters, with a phone number underneath. For Sale? What was going on? Confused, with a growing sense of trepidation, she put the car back into drive and continued down the laneway, forcing down the rising apprehension in her gut. Pulling up near the house she rolled to a stop and cautiously pulled the parking break. She sat for a moment, gazing up at the house, its windows like dark dead eyes staring out at the trees and fields beyond. There was no sign of Will's truck, but it was only just after nine in the morning. Maybe he'd gone into town early? She forced herself to step out, the crunch of her feet on gravel sounding unnaturally loud to her ears. The whole farm seemed still and strangely quiet. It was as if time had moved on and left it behind, a shell of its former self. After ringing the doorbell several times with no response, she had to conclude that he wasn't home. The thought of the pond and the boathouse wended its painful way through her mind, but she told herself firmly that if his truck wasn't here, he wasn't likely to be either. She paused by her car, the memory playing out in her mind of his hand on her arm, both of them running towards the barn. The barn. Was it real? Did it exist or was it just part of her childish imagination? Some shadowy recollection made her think it might be down a track off the main drive. Not behind the house towards the pond, but up along the line of the fields that bordered the front of the property. She locked the car doors and immediately felt silly as there wasn't a soul for miles. Slowly at first, and then more resolutely, she made her way towards the weed-filled track that followed the fields. Burrs tugged at her legs and late goldenrod trailed pale pollen along her sleeves. The track curved again and with it came a rush of familiarity as she walked out from beneath some low-hanging trees into a clearing. But the long, low structure she saw with her eleven year-old eyes faded away with a sickening shock at the reality of the sight in front of her. Where the barn had once stood, blackened stumps pushed up like rows of broken teeth through charred remnants of farming equipment. The barn was gone. Burned. The remembered terror of that long-ago night tugged at her, and she had to fight the panic that began to grip at her insides. The fire was recent...no weeds were growing amidst the debris and the acrid smell of smoke still floated in the chill air. What had happened here? Oh god, had something happened to Will? She found herself running the way she'd come, the weeds whipping against her hands, her feet stumbling on the rough ground. She managed to slow herself to a walk as she neared her car, her breath coming in heaving gasps. Her mind continued to race as she started the engine and pulled the car into a tight turn towards the drive. She had to find out what was going on. A single thought filled her mine. Jake. Maybe Jake knew. * * * Her heart was still pounding as she stood in front of the customer entrance of Jake's garage, her hand on the door handle. The metal felt cold against her palm and fingers and the chill echoed the cold, icy stone of dread that seemed to sit on her chest, weighing her down. The street behind her was silent, and she was certain she would find the shop within just as deserted. But, as if by some miracle, the handle turned when she pushed on it, and she stepped into the relative warmth of the front entrance. The scent of motor oil and paint hung in the air like a strange sort of incense. Off and towards the back of the open garage area she could hear the tinny warble of a radio and some faint banging noises. Picking her way over hoses and around toolboxes she headed towards the sounds, hoping to hell that it was Jake digging around in the guts of that car. "Jake?" She heard a muffled clunk and then curses. "Jake, is that you?" Feet appeared from under the car and then a filthy pair of coverall-clad legs, followed finally by an oil-stained torso. With some relief she found herself looking down into Jake's begrimed face. His eyebrows rose as he registered who'd just interrupted him, but she thought she saw something darker than surprise flicker across his face before he scooted out and clambered to his feet. When he finally spoke, he kept his eyes low, pulling a rag out of his back pocket. "Is it the car? I'm sure I got all the kinks out of it last time-" "No, no Jake...the car is fine. And I'm sorry to burst in on you like this, it's just-" She stopped, suddenly, beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea. "What can I do for you, then?" he said, his voice steady. He began wiping his hands carefully on the greasy cloth. She couldn't bear not knowing any longer, and the words tumbled out of her. "It's Will, Jake. I need to know where he is. I've been to the house and the barn was burned down and the house is for sale-" "Okay, okay, slow down," he said, and added with a mutter, "No need to get yourself in a state-" "Jake, is he okay? Is he hurt?" Or worse? She battled against the thought, oblivious to Jake's dismissive tone, rubbing a hand up and down her arm in agitation. "Will? Injured, no. Hurting...well, that's another thing..." "What do you mean?" Jake moved over to a standing toolbox and began organising consecutively-sized wrenches with excruciating precision. "Jake, what are you talking about?" She made her way around behind the toolbox, desperately trying to catch his eye. He raised his head and pushed back his shoulders as if steeling himself, clearly reluctant to answer her. "Look...Sarah. Will's just about the best friend I ever had." He paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully, finally raising his eyes to hers. "He's been through enough, don't you think?" She started to protest, but the look on his face silenced her. Part of her demanded to know what she'd done to deserve the accusation she heard in his voice, but underneath it all, she knew. After all, hadn't she allowed a narcissistic waitress and an old newspaper clipping get under her skin and betray a good man? He went back to moving the tools around before saying in a low voice, "So what is it you're so all-fired up to say to him?" "I'm...sorry. I didn't realise-" She stopped. Didn't realise what? That Jake might be angry that she'd hurt his friend? She hadn't felt animosity like this from Shannon, but then...hadn't Shannon been acting on Will's behalf and not hers? She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, willing herself to stay composed. "Jake, can you tell me where he is?" He refused to face her, his silence prompting in her a fierce desperation. She had to get through to him. "Look Jake, I know, okay. I know that Will had a wretched time growing up. I've seen the scars." She saw him flinch slightly as she said this, but she pushed on. "And yes, I may have misjudged him, but can you really blame me?" For a moment he looked as if he was actually about to answer yes her to question! The anger began to bubble up inside her, fuelled by all the self-doubt that had plagued her. By the still too-real betrayal she'd felt when she thought Will had just tossed her aside. The panic when he had treated her so roughly. Dammit, she had a right to be mad. She rounded on Jake, allowing her rage to erupt in a flood of words. "We both know his father was a violent drunk...how was I supposed to know it hadn't rubbed off on him, huh? Like father, like son, right? And I was warned away from him. I bet you didn't know that...warned by several people including my mother, who is usually a pretty sensible person." Once started, she couldn't stop the words. She paused, but only long enough to catch her breath. "Granted, Cherise is a stupid cow and I was an idiot to listen to any of her nonsense, but it all just seemed to...to fit together somehow. And don't forget the incident in college with Shannon's boyfriend. If it weren't for her I'd still be in the dark about that one. And what about the time he nearly bit Kevin's head off in public for no reason at all? Explain that one to me! And to top it off, when Kevin finally gets himself mugged I get interrogated in my dressing gown about Will's violent tendencies!" Again, she stopped only long enough to draw in breath. "And I'll have you know that the saintly friend you protect so dearly has a frightful temper, can be grumpy as hell and throws a hissy-fit whenever he doesn't get his own way!" She stood for a moment, breathing hard, the sound of her words seeming to echo in the dusty corners of the garage. Hands clenched into fists, her whole body quivered with the rage she felt. But as if just to infuriate her more, Jake just turned away from her completely now, and she was left staring, dumbfounded, at his back. She blinked a few times. No, she wasn't imagining it. His shoulders were shaking. Was he...weeping? She heard a low sound...oh god, what had she done? He turned, tilting his head back, and she finally recognised the sound. Jake was chuckling. The bastard was laughing at her! The Water Nymph Ch. 06 "What? What's so funny?" She took a stiff step towards him, fighting the urge to slap his laughing, smiling face. He kept on chuckling, shaking his head. "That will teach him to pick up girls from the side of the road." "What?" she demanded, still furious. He made an attempt to assemble his features into a more serious expression, but he couldn't keep the humour out of his voice. "Here he thought he'd picked some sweet honeysuckle from the side of the road, and didn't he just get a hornet's nest full of harpy." She stood there, slightly stunned, as he turned back to putting his tools in order. Harpy? Should she be offended? She hoped she looked a little less perplexed than she felt. He turned back to look at her, his expression more serious now. "Okay, here's the thing, Sarah. Will and I, we go fishing sometimes. We hike out somewhere quiet to get away, you know?" He continued, as if confident that she understood exactly what he meant. "Will's the kind of guy you can be with and not have to talk too much. I always liked that about him. So he doesn't tell me a great deal, and I don't ask." Another pause. "But at night-" "...he has nightmares." She caught the slight flicker of surprise in his eyes as she finished his thought for him. He nodded, looking down at his hands, absently rubbing with the rag again before looking up at her, his expression deadly serious. "He needs someone who doesn't scare easy." She stared back at him, willing him to see some strength in her that would prove she could possibly be that someone. He seemed to take a deep breath, then stuffed the rag back into his pocket and bent his head towards the front of the shop. "I gotta go out and get a few things." "Uh, okay..." She raced through her thoughts, so many questions left unanswered, but she was hesitant to press him further. She followed him to the front of the shop in silence. When they reached the door he turned, started to say something, then stopped. He tried again. "The barn...that happened about a week back. Apparently...if you leave old paint cans around for too long they can catch alight. Who knew?" It took her a moment to notice the slight twinkle in his eye. "So it was an accident then?" "Something like that." Again, the small smile. She suddenly had an image of Will and Jake standing together in the darkness at the edge of the clearing in companionable silence, watching the barn slowly collapse in on itself in an explosion of sparks, the distant wail of sirens faint but growing closer. She shook away the thought. Her most important question had yet to be answered. She reached out and put a hand on Jake's arm as he pushed through the door. "Jake...you still haven't told me where Will is." The house was for sale, she thought, was she already too late? He turned back to her and shrugged, "Somewhere in town I expect. Maybe getting more of those fancy paints of his?" So he was still here. He hadn't left! Taking a deep breath, Sarah nodded, trying her best to quell the surge of hope that fought its way up through the despair that had paralysed her for weeks. She unlocked the car door and was about to climb in when Jake's elbows appeared on the top of the door and he leaned his head over. He looked away into the distance for a minute before finally speaking. "The thing about that Kevin guy... I'm guessing Will still has a bit of a grudge there. Something to do with Will's father and some smashed pumpkins?" Smashed pumpkins. The Halloween party. Of course. Was Kevin one of the boys Will saved from a whipping in the barn all those years ago? Sarah's shoulders slumped as the last piece of the puzzle slipped gently into place. No wonder Will had to restrain himself around the guy...he would carry forever the scars that should have belonged to Kevin. She stood up and couldn't help but smile at the quickly veiled look of shock on Jake's face as she reached over the car door and kissed him on his rough cheek. "Thank you, Jake. I won't let you down." As she slid into her seat she could hear him muttering as he walked away. It felt like years since she'd last smiled, and she marvelled at how much lighter she felt...as if a huge weight had lifted from her. * * * There was nothing to do but drive back to the farm and wait. As she made the turn into the farmhouse driveway once more, she could see that he still hadn't returned. She tried sitting in her car, but was gripped by an unbearable restlessness and paced up to the porch and back endless times instead, her eyes drawn time and again to the laneway from the road. The wind had begun to rise steadily, causing the chimes on the porch to jangle discordantly in their moorings. Grey clouds skudded across a darkening sky, and she felt the now-familiar pull. She followed her feet, past the house, down the stony path between the cedar trees. She took her time, touching the bark of each tree in turn, greeting each of them as if they were old friends. They swayed and bobbed gently in the wind as if to welcome her. She paused for a moment from her vantage point above the pond, where she'd awoken for the first time to the true depth of what she felt. Pain had a funny way of making things clear. The surface of the water rippled and danced in shifting shapes as the gusting wind moved across it. She heard the first raindrops fall before she felt them and ran for the shelter of the boathouse, the storm on her heels. * * * The door banged closed behind her and it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the relative darkness. The rain was coming down in earnest now, drumming against the roof above her and breaking the surface of the pond with a gentle hiss. The room had changed since her last visit. The smell of oil paint and spirits hung faintly in the air, and she could see an easel standing at an angle in the far corner. A large canvas appeared to be propped on it, but it was covered with a cloth and in the dimness it was difficult to make anything out. A small table stood near it, covered with pots of brushes and bottles of oil and solvent. Canvases of various sizes were propped at odd angles along the wall, and in the far corner, on the side nearest the pond, she could see a pillow and blankets neatly folded on the padded benches. So this was where he'd done his paintings? Had he been living down here too? she wondered. She moved carefully toward the draped easel, fighting the growing temptation to pull aside the cloth and reveal what was hidden there. She lifted a hand, then dropped it, a sudden pang of guilt overriding her burning curiosity. You've already failed his trust, she thought, and you're going to snoop into his private things? She stepped away, comforting herself by running the tips of her fingers over the soft bristles of the brushes, noting how neatly they were arranged. When the rain eventually eased, the breeze drifting through the screened windows was cool and brought with it the smell of wet soil and damp leaves. She stepped towards the window that overlooked the pond, taking in the dark glimmer of the passing clouds reflected in its surface. Her mind wandered to her dream, and for a moment she felt a flash of panic at the thought of Will. Will, drowning. Will at the bottom of the pond, the slippery weeds wrapping around his arms and legs, his dark staring eyes... The door banged gently behind her, and she whirled, her hand at her throat. A figure stood, silhouetted against the screen door. "Sarah?" Will. The sound of his voice sent a thrill through her whole body. How she had missed that voice. "What are you doing here?" "I came to...to see you." He didn't answer, but moved hastily to the easel, checking the covering on the canvas with quick, jerky movements. "You shouldn't be here...I thought I locked the door..." he muttered, half to himself. "I'm sorry Will...I didn't know when you'd be back...then the rain started-" "I don't care, you shouldn't be down here." He stopped and turned, still shrouded in the relative darkness of the far side of the room. "Will, we need to talk. I know things now I didn't know before, and-" "And what?" He cut her off before she could finish. "There's nothing to talk about." He turned his back, silhouetted against the growing light outside. His shoulders slumped, and he spoke again. "Just...leave, okay?" Sarah took a deep breath. "I'm not leaving." He whirled and took a few steps towards her. "You'll do as I say, dammit. I want you to leave!" Her chin went up a notch, defiance stiffening her spine. "I'm not going anywhere Will. Not until we sort things out." "Sort things out? What in god's name are you talking about? There is nothing to sort out. There is...nothing." He turned back to his easel, running his hands through his hair, agitated. She moved towards him, "Will, I know I was wrong. I'm sorry, okay, about a lot of things-" "Sorry? Now you're sorry? So that makes everything all better?" "No, no...of course not." She took a deep breath, trying very hard not to let the doubt and darkness sweep over her. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want anything to do with her. He didn't want her... She pressed her fingers against her eyes, forcing herself to overcome the thoughts. No, she had to win this. For both of them, she had to win this. "Will, I've met Shannon. At first I thought you and she...I actually thought you were...sleeping with her. But I know now that's not true..." "You thought what? That's insane!" "I know, I know...it's my own fault for being so insecure, I know," she said, covering her face with her hands. He was silent for a moment and then began to shake his head as if the penny had finally dropped. "So that's why you blew me off at your aunt's funeral?" he asked, incredulous. "Because you and your overactive imagination thought I was cheating on you? Oh, now that just makes it so much better..." he said, with a cynical laugh, causing her to wince. He began to pace back and forth, squinting and rubbing his eyes. "No, Will, it wasn't just that. It was lots of things. Things I was told...things I shouldn't have believed." He took a few steps closer to her, emerging from the shadows. For the first time she could see his eyes, dark and glinting with anger. "Like what? That I'm a violent offender? A killer? You believed that cop? Or did the saintly Cherise get her little claws into you?" "Shannon explained it all to me. And I know about Kevin..." She watched, her insides lurching, as he turned and walked away from her again. What could she say? What could she do to make him understand? "Will, I was frightened. What happened between us was so intense...I thought I'd lost my grip on reality-" "Oh, so when you came back to reality you decided to cut me out, is that it?" he retorted, clenching his hands into fists. "No, Will. I didn't think it could be real. You and I. I thought..." "Well, you thought wrong. It was pretty damn real for me!" She breathed in sharply at his words. Even after everything...their time together, Shannon's words, the paintings... there had been a resistant part of her that had doubted. Doubted that he'd felt what she had. But, she thought, was it still real? Was it still real for him too? Was she too late? She turned away and walked to the window and stared out over the pond, trying to blink away the burning tears that blurred her vision. "I remember the barn, Will. I remember you...trying to keep me from getting hurt. You made me cover my ears. Covered them so I wouldn't hear-" her voice choked, the threatening tears welling over and spilling down her cheeks. She heard a soft groan and then silence from the other side of the room. But he hadn't walked away. He was still there. She could sense him standing, tense, in the darkness. She swallowed, trying to steady her voice. "Will, I'm not leaving. I was a whole lot smarter as a kid. I wouldn't leave you then and I'm not about to leave you now. I don't care what scars you have-" "What the fuck do you know about my scars?" She turned to find him staring at her. He was breathing hard, his eyes flashing like that of an injured animal. She took a step towards him. When he didn't retreat she took another step, and then another until she was standing in front of him, looking up into his face. She prayed desperately that in the dark he couldn't see how violently she was trembling. "I'm not going anywhere, Will. Unless you don't want me. Even then...I won't go without a fight." The truth was she that if he pushed her away just once more she felt she would shatter into a million pieces, never to be whole again. The silence was filled only by the rasping sounds of their breathing. When it became clear that he wasn't going to flinch away from her, she tentatively raised her hand and reached out. She laid her palm gently against his chest. He was warm. His heart was racing. She could feel it pounding under her hand. He breathed in sharply and closed his eyes. "I'm here, Will." With a muffled curse, he crushed her into his arms. He held her for a moment before half-carrying, half-dragging her to the nearest wall and pushing her roughly against it. He just held her there, his hands gripping her arms, his head next to hers. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear, the heat of his body next to hers. His touch was like an electric shock, and her whole body screamed to be near to him, close to him. He spoke softly, his voice strained, his tone accusatory. "You ran away. You went cold, and you pushed me away and you ran..." She closed her eyes, willing him trust her. To forgive her. But could she trust him? At some point over the past few days a part of her had finally lost its grip. Let go. Released. The part of her that had endured the devastation of her father's death. The deep betrayal of his leaving her. Leaving her in the screaming silence all alone with no one. That part of her had finally begun to loosen its hold on the fortress she had built for herself so very carefully. She'd built it so that no one could ever get close. So they couldn't get close and leave her again. Will had been chipping at the walls from the first moment she set eyes on him, but she was the only one who could let those walls fall away, slowly, into the darkness. When she opened her eyes they were bright with tears, but clear with a new certainty. She tilted his head to meet his gaze. "I'm not running anymore." He turned his head away, tightening his grip on her arms. She repeated it. "Will. I'm not running." She felt him breathe deeply, and slowly let go of her arms, only to grasp both of her wrists and pull them up over her head, pinning her against the wall in one swift movement. She felt as if the floor had fallen away from beneath her feet and a familiar blaze of heat surged up from her belly. He leaned his body in against hers, and she allowed herself to melt against him, holding nothing back, sighing softly. She closed her eyes and felt his lips brushing her ear. He spoke again, his voice frighteningly serious. "Do you know what you're saying?" She let herself drift, the warmth of his body filling her with a depth of security she hadn't known was possible. He tightened his grip on her wrists and angled his hips more firmly against hers, pressing her harder against the wall. When he spoke, it was through gritted teeth. "If this is one of your fucking little games..." She opened her eyes to find him searching her face. Searching for what? Deceit? She just stared back, really taking in his face for the first time. He was thinner, pain pinching around his eyes and the corners of his mouth, a dark shadow of stubble along his chin. She drank in the sight of him as if she'd never seen him before and could never get enough of him. His eyes dropped lower, and she realised he was staring at her mouth. He leaned in and covered her lips with his own, tentatively at first, as if testing her, judging her reaction. She opened her mouth to his, letting him find there what he would, intoxicated by the feel of his lips against hers. He let go of her wrists and plunged his fingers into her hair, tilting her face up to his, his mouth fierce against hers, his tongue forceful and invading. She slid her arms around his neck and sank into his kiss, pressing her whole being against him. Tears ran slickly down her face, the salty taste mingling with the taste of him. She had won. Thank god, she'd won. He groaned against her mouth, his hands clenching their way down her back until they reached her hips and gripped tightly. There was no mistaking his intention and she could feel him pressing insistently against her through his jeans. It set off an answering need in her, burning her up from the core. This was no dream. There was no waking up from this, and she let desire take her over like a drug. All she knew was his lips and tongue moving against hers in a hypnotic dance, searching her for the answers to questions he couldn't put into words. He finally broke the kiss, his breathing laboured, and leaned his forehead against the wall behind her. When he spoke, it was nearly a growl. "You never did play fair. You just walk through and bind your damned spell around me and I just follow like an idiot." She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, resting her cheek against his. "I have no spells, Will." She could feel his chest move with a half-laugh. "The hell you don't." She put her hands up to his face and angled it until she could properly see him. "Please don't push me away, Will. Please forgive me..." He just looked at her silently for a few moments. "I thought you said you weren't going to leave? Do I have a choice?" For the first time, she saw a glimmer of smile, and she smiled through her tears. "No...no, I guess not." He smoothed her hair back from her face and brushed his thumbs along her cheeks to wipe her tears. "Enough of that," he told her firmly. He held her gently in his arms, just looking down into her face, until a shadow came over him. "I just want to know...why didn't you come to see it?" "Come to see what?" "You know what. The show at the gallery. You got the invitation, didn't you?" His face darkened. She took a deep breath. She could not...would not, betray Shannon. "How do you know I didn't see it?" "Well, did you?" "Yes, actually. I did." She noted the brief flash of surprise in his eyes. "It was the last night, but I saw it." She felt the tension begin to ebb from him, but he wasn't done. "And what did you think?" She stepped back a little, trying to find some space between them, afraid to say the wrong thing. "It was...overwhelming. And beautiful. And a little frightening." She braced herself for his reaction. He pulled her closer again, nodding slightly. "But did you like it?" She nodded, her face buried against his chest. "Yes, I did." He held her for a moment and then pulled away to arm's length. "Okay, I have some things I need to do. I'm going to ask you to go-" "No, Will-!" "No, I need you to go, but just for a little while." She took a deep breath, trying to ease the wave of panic she felt at his words. She'd promised herself she would trust him. "Okay. I can go...if that's what you want." "Are you staying with your Mom?" "Yes..." "Good. I'm going to finish what I need to do, and I'd like you to be back here tonight." Tonight? What was this all about? Why couldn't they be together now? "Be here at seven. Wear something pretty, floral-" "Floral?" she asked, quizzically. "You know, something feminine. I don't know." He smiled slightly and reached out to stroke a strand of her hair. "Whatever makes you feel beautiful." * * * He leaned against the frame of the boathouse door, watching her make her way up the path towards the farm house. She turned and looked back several times. Just before stepping out of sight into the trees, she raised her hand in a little wave and his hand shot up in answer, then she was gone. He slipped his hands into his pockets and let his head fall back against the wooden doorpost, exhaling slowly. The Water Nymph Ch. 07 © 2012 beatrice dreams This story has been posted exclusively to Literotica.com by the author and copyright holder, Beatrice Dreams. If you are reading this story on any website other than Literotica.com, this story has been illegally copied and used without permission. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * A NOTE TO MY READERS: Thank you. Writing this story has been a wonderful experience, and I continue to be amazed and encouraged by the positive responses the story has received so far. This is the concluding chapter, and it feels a bit sad to see the story end, but let's hope it's happily-ever-after. A huge thanks to Panthem who so kindly read through this chapter for me and keeps me (and so many others) constantly inspired with her stories. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * "But I don't understand, dear, you just got here." "I know, Mom, but things have changed, I'm sorry," Sarah said, folding her clothes and packing them with the rest of her things into her overnight bag. "I'll see if I can stop by tomorrow and we can catch up, okay?" "This isn't just some hotel you can come shower and change in you know," her mother said, sounding more wounded than angry. Sarah's hands stilled, guilt gnawing at her momentarily. "It's not that I don't want to see you, Mom." "Then why? Why leave so soon?" Her mother stood in the doorway to the guestroom, her hands fluttering and fidgeting like lost birds. Sarah took a deep breath, checking her hair in the mirror for what must be the hundredth time. She'd taken enormous care in the bath, washing and drying her hair and getting ready. She was dressed now in the one thing she'd brought which she thought might be suitable. It was a green cotton dress, buttoned down the front. It had little pleats along the bodice and fell softly over her hips to just below the knee. She pulled a creamy cardigan over it for warmth. It had a little felt rosette pinned to one side. That would have to do for Will's 'floral' request. "You never did explain why you suddenly wanted to visit and now you're going?" Sarah looked down at her hands, trying unsuccessfully to think of something that would satisfy her mother's irritation. Only the truth would really do. "Mom, you remember the guy who helped me with my car? Bill's son, Will?" "Yes, I told you about him, didn't I? And that Jenkins boy-" "Yes, Mom, you told me about all that." Sarah turned to face her mother, straightening her shoulders and taking a deep breath before forging on. "I'm going to go see Will tonight. That's why I'm here." "Oh." Her mother took a few seconds to process the information, blinking. Bracing herself for her mother's reaction, she added defensively, "I know...I know you don't like him or his family and you think they're all mad, but he's a wonderful guy, Mom, he really is." Her mother straightened imperceptibly and her hands stilled. She looked Sarah in the eye. "So you and he have a thing then...you're a couple?" Sarah felt her cheeks grow warm, cursing herself for being embarrassed to discuss this with her own mother. "Yes, Mom, we're together. It's been a bit up and down, but I think we might have a chance...at making things work." Her mother nodded, silent for a moment. "You know, I always did wonder...what exactly it was between the two of you." She saw the look of surprise on Sarah's face and retorted, "I'm not blind you know. I do remember having to physically lift you, kicking and screaming, away from that barn while your father went to intervene. You were so distraught...you practically made yourself ill and you weren't yourself for days afterwards. You've been a bit like that ever since you came to see me at the end of the summer. I suppose I should have put the two things together." She nodded to herself thoughtfully several times before looking Sarah in the eye again and asking boldly, "Do you love him?" Sarah was taken aback for at her mother's uncharacteristic directness. "Yes...yes, Mom. I love him." It was the first time she'd said the words. To herself or aloud. The first time she'd fully admitted to herself the breadth and depth of feeling she held for him. Her throat caught in a sudden sob and to her chagrin she burst into tears. In seconds she felt her mother's arms around her, holding her close. "There now, enough of that. It's nothing to cry about," her mother said, patting her back, her own voice muffled with emotion. Sarah nodded and straightened, wiping her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Mom, I didn't mean to..." Her mother stroked her cheek and then patted it gently, fishing a Kleenex out of her pocket and putting it into Sarah's hand. "You shouldn't be alone in the world," she said, before adding, "I can tell you...it isn't much fun." "I know, Mom. And he's a good man...I hope you believe me." Her mother nodded, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "That's all I need to know. That and that you'll be careful, right?" Sarah let out a muffled laugh and blew her nose, nodding and saying, "Yes Mom." Her mother cocked her head to one side and gave her a pointed look. "I mean...you'll be careful?" Sarah blinked at her mother for a few seconds before catching her meaning. The instant she did she felt her cheeks instantly flush scarlet. "God! Mom, geez...yes, yes. Of course." Her mother took one last look at her, briefly rubbing Sarah's arm before moving to the door. She turned. "You have your keys if you need to come back tonight?" Sarah nodded, "Yes, thanks Mom," and smiled as her mother nodded knowingly and left the room. * * * He stood back from the easel, tilting his head, studying intently what he'd done, the paintbrush dangling forgotten in his hand. It would probably need reworking here and there, but for the most part, it was complete. He'd kept this one out of the show, not because it wasn't finished, but because it was too...personal, somehow. This was something he wanted only for himself. He turned to look out window and noticed for the first time how dark it had become. He cursed, shocked at how quickly the time had passed. Tossing all his brushes into the solvent he made a dash for the house and a hot shower. * * * It was just after seven when her headlights flashed over the for-sale sign at the end of Will's drive. The gravelly laneway seemed strange and alien in the dark with only the headlight beams to illuminate the track. Clumps of weeds and trees seemed to move eerily in the darkness as the shadows shifted with the changing light. She'd expected the house lights to be on, but other than one porch lamp, the windows were dark, staring blindly out across the starlit fields. She parked close to the house, sitting back in her seat, allowing the sound of the gentle creak and rustle of the trees in the evening breeze flow over her, the cricket chorus throbbing in the background. She smoothed her hair and took one last look at herself in the rear-view mirror before slowly stepping from the car. She didn't know what to expect or what he'd intended by her coming back again that night. She had hopes, suspicions. But she had all her things in the car, ready to flee back to her mother or all the way back to her apartment in the city. But she was done with running, wasn't she? Taking a deep steadying breath she closed the car door firmly and walked towards the house. When she reached the porch she still couldn't see any light from inside. Had she gotten the time wrong? He'd said seven, right? As she leaned to peer into the kitchen window she thought she saw light inside, but quickly realised it wasn't coming from inside after all, but only reflected in the glass. Turning, she finally saw the glowing dots, dancing in the grass, zig-zagged along the path which led down to the pond. He'd lit a trail through the dark... She made her way down the porch steps, and as she neared the lights she could see that they were glass mason jars set on the ground, each with a small candle flickering inside, the flames occasionally buffeted by the breeze that caught at her skirt. Amazed, she followed the line of jars, the faint glow of each makeshift lantern showing her where to place her feet. When she reached the crest of the hill overlooking the pond, her breath caught. The same candles made a path all the way to the boathouse, and out on the water she could see more lights bobbing faintly in the darkness. What was he up to? She was nearly at the boathouse door when the shadows along the wall shifted. Startled, she swallowed a scream and stepped back. Fear gripped her for one terrifying moment, until the moving shadow separated from the building and she recognised with relief Will's tall, lanky form moving out onto the landing. His voice floated towards her softly. "Hi." It was only one word, but it instantly warmed her. She smiled, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Hi." As he moved out of the deeper shadows and came nearer, she couldn't help but notice that his earlier stubble was now clean-shaven, and he'd traded his casual shirt for a collared shirt and wool sweater. Dark, shower-damp hair fell over his eyes, begging to be smoothed back. She suddenly felt breathless. "You came." "Of course I came." Mustering her courage, she walked up to him and looked up into his face, searching for reassurance that she'd made the right choice, at the same time, wanting to offer him that same comfort. "Where else would I go?" He closed his eyes and then exhaled as if he'd been holding his breath. "I wasn't sure. I'm glad you did." She reached out and slid her hand into his and turned to look up the path of twinkling lights. "I liked the candles," she said with a smile. "They're beautiful, thank you." He shifted his hand, twining her fingers with his, and looked down at her. "You deserve beautiful things, you know." He took a backwards step and tugged her towards the door. "Come, I have something to show you." She followed, clinging tight to his arm, through the dark doorway. The door closed behind them and she was greeted by the brighter illumination of several lanterns hanging from the ceiling beams. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light and orient herself, but she soon spotted the easel. Unlike earlier that day, it was now turned inwards to face the room, with the mysterious canvas propped on it, uncovered. She gasped and took a step towards it. Bedclothes swirled in sensuous brushstrokes around a sleeping nude figure. Sunlight and shadow played over delicately rendered feminine curves and porcelain, translucent skin. Somehow he'd imbued the figure with an innocence, but it was undeniably sensuous and gently seductive. Sarah moved closer and leaned her head to one side, studying the face of the woman in the painting. "But Will...this is-" "You? Yes." But unlike the water nymph painting, this truly was of her. Her as she really was. He'd still painted her more beautiful than she ever believed she could be in reality. Something about the blurred details at the edges of the painting jogged a memory. She knew where this was. Unless she was mistaken, the bed in the painting was Will's. In his bedroom. And she'd only slept, and woken, in his bed that one time. He watched me sleep? Drew me while I slept? she wondered, amazed. Something about the perspective made the figure seem incredibly close...incredibly intimate, so near you felt you could just reach out and touch... She stretched her hand out, but her wrist was snagged at the last second in his firm grip. "No, don't touch. Some of it's still wet." "I'm sorry-" "It's okay." "It's so strange..." "What do you mean? Don't you like it?" "No, I mean yes. It's...stunning. It's just strange that it's...me," she answered falteringly, flustered by his steady grip on her wrist. "It's how I see you. Is that strange?" He studied her reaction, his eyes dark and unreadable. "I don't feel that I'm that...beautiful, in real life." He used his grip on her wrist to pivot her until she was facing him. "You'll just have to trust me then." He looked her over, taking in the green dress, the pale cardigan. He let go of her wrist and slid his hands around her waist, pulling her close. She pressed her face against his chest, trying to keep her breathing even, his proximity and warmth having its usual drugging effect on her senses. She took a shaky breath. "So, what are we going to do about this?" "About what?" She continued to lean into him, keenly aware of the pressure of his hands on her waist. "This. Us." Some moments passed before he answered. "What do people usually do?" "I don't know." "Well, we have to get a few things straight first." "Like what?" "Are you going to stop fighting me?" "I'm not fighting you!" "Maybe not right now, but you will. I know you will." She tried to step back, out of his arms, anger bubbling up at his accusation. "See? You're fighting me right now!" he said, throwing up his hands. "Because you haven't even given me a chance, that's why!" She wrapped her arms around herself protectively. The usual internal call for retreat was sounding. The escape route beckoned. Her shoulders slumped. She let her arms drop and turned back to him. "I'm sorry. Will, I..." He nodded, watching her closely. "You're going to be hard work, aren't you." She hung her head and moved to stand in front of the painting again. "Don't you see," she implored, gesturing to the recumbent figure. "She's so beautiful. So perfect. How on earth can I compete with that?" She stood, mentally tracing the curves and lines, unable to stem the rising tide of hopelessness. She felt him step up behind her, the heat from his body radiating against her back. She breathed deep, entranced by his proximity and his clear, masculine scent. When he spoke, his breath brushed past her ear, sending a thrill down her body. "But she is you. The you that you could be. The you that you are when you're not trying so damned hard. But you need to trust me." She stood for some time, her thoughts racing. She was just going to blow this. Mess it up. She could just feel it. She turned her head towards him, and found that he was watching her intently. "Will...I don't know. I don't know if I can do this." "You told me earlier you were done running." She turned back to the painting, despairing. "I know, but that's what I want. I don't want to run. But it's still there. I thought I was past that, but obviously not. I'm just going to let you down..." "You think I'm perfect at all this?" he said, then tilted his head and added wryly, "No, don't answer that." He turned her around once more to look at him, this time taking her face in both hands. "All you need to know, is that I will never give up on you. If you really want this...if we have what I think we have..." he trailed off. He caressed her cheek softly with his thumb, his face filled with a sincerity and deep intensity that surprised her. "I will never let you go. No matter what. Never, you hear me?" Sarah blinked fiercely, tears stinging at the back of her eyes. How could he know how much those words meant? When was the last time she'd been handed any sort of certainty? Accepting it...allowing it to sink in, that would take longer. But already she felt hope blooming inside her. She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly, allowing the warmth of his words to move through her. She opened her eyes again. Blue eyes staring up into bottomless dark ones. "I do want this, Will. I want you. To be with you." His hands slid back around her waist, pulling her snugly against his body, his voice low. "Are you sure?" She nodded, mute. He spoke again, but his voice was rough. "Don't ever, ever walk out on me. Or threaten to. That's the one thing..." He dropped his head low before locking his gaze onto hers again. "I couldn't handle that, okay?" She nodded again, "Okay. Yes." "Okay." They stood, holding each other. She didn't really know what had happened, but it seemed as if they had come to some sort of understanding. Some sort of agreement. She clung to him a little tighter, one hand curled up against her chest, the other around his waist, her head tucked under his chin, secure in the warmth of his arms snug around her. She heard him suck a breath in through his teeth. "You really have no clue what you do to me, do you?" he asked, looking down at her, a pained expression on his face. She tilted her head up to look at him, a smile playing across her lips. "What do you mean?" His meaning became abundantly clear. In one deft movement, he lifted her towards the door frame and trapped her against it with his body, his mouth claiming hers, his hands sliding over the curve of her bottom and lifting her up to press against him with a fierce urgency. Her whole body was on fire in an instant, straining against him, begging him to touch her. Begging him to take her. She sank into his kisses, and when his hands moved up her back again, slipping under her cardigan, rubbing and caressing her through the thin cotton of her dress, she arched forward, desperate to be close to him. After so many nights...so many dreams...it was still strange for him to be real. Tentatively, she ran her palms over his chest, enjoying the rough texture of his knit sweater. She burrowed underneath it, sliding her hands up into the blazing warmth. His shirt was smooth and crisp. Her fingers made their way back up to his chest, where she flattened her hands against the taut muscles, firm and supple under fabric. He immediately groaned, grinding his hips against her and finding her rear again with his hands, kneading her soft flesh and lifting her against him. Not satisfied, he leaned in to ravage her neck with his mouth, suckling and biting the soft, tender skin. He finally had to grab her hands and pull them from under his sweater, holding her by the wrists while he stepped away, breathing hard, leaving her pinned against the doorpost, unable to reach him. When he finally caught his breath he placed one of her hands on each his shoulders and leaned his forehead against hers. He spoke, his voice ragged, "Okay, wild thing. And here I had plans for us...you're always trying to ruin my plans, aren't you?" She let her fingers gently stroke the soft hair at the nape of his neck, gazing up into his flushed face and smiling slightly. "I don't mean to...I don't know why this keeps happening." He pulled her away from the door frame, and taking both her hands in his, he began walking backwards. "Close your eyes," he said, waiting until she had before carefully guiding her over the threshold. Once they were outside she could feel that they were walking along the rough surface of the dock. She could hear the water lapping softly against the moorings, and the boat adding its usual rhythmic clunking as the gentle waves jostled it against the dock. He turned her again, and the clunking of the boat now sounded as if it was just in front of her. She felt him drop down lower than her, still holding her hands. "Open your eyes." She blinked, looking around her. He was standing, barefoot, down in the bottom of the rowboat. A few more of the mason jar lanterns were wedged against the back seat, their light casting strange shadows onto the water. Her gaze was drawn out to the middle of the pond, where more lights bobbed and flickered in the misty darkness. "We're going in the boat?" she asked, perplexed. "Yup." He instructed her to slip out of her shoes and showed her where she could place her feet, bracing the boat so that it wouldn't shift too far away from the dock. When she was settled near the back, he untied the ropes and pushed off from the dock with an oar. He rowed slowly, steadily, the gentle splash of the oars pulling out of the water in counterpoint to the water slapping against the bow. The Water Nymph Ch. 07 Sarah leaned back, staring up at the expanse of sky ringed by the dark jagged outline of the surrounding trees. Occasionally black shapes would dart across above them with incredible swiftness. They must be bats, she thought, out for their nightly feed. The gentle wind felt wet and cool against her cheeks, and she pulled her cardigan more closely around her, shivering a little. She jumped in her seat, startled by the boat bumping up against the barrel floats under the raft. Will sat, watching her. She peered over the side, apprehensive. "You're not planning another swimming trip, are you?" she asked, the very thought making her teeth chatter. Will chuckled softly and reached over to finish tying the boat to the ladder. "No, no swimming tonight. Quick, up the ladder, you're cold." She gingerly stood and grabbed onto the ladder to the raft, relieved when she made it to the top rung. Will was right behind her, and she thought she felt his hand gently caress her leg as she climbed. The raft was much larger than she'd remembered, and instead of the expanse of astroturf she was expecting, the whole middle of the raft was piled with cushions and pillows and blankets. Along the far edge and on each corner were more lanterns, each casting shadows and lights over the raft and glinting out on the water. He had been busy! She turned to Will with a look of delight and he caught her around the waist, pulling her down with him onto the mound of cushions, laughing softly. The laughter soon drifted into silence as they sank together into the makeshift bed. His body half-covered hers and she became intensely aware of his entirely masculine weight and warmth pressing on top of her. He propped himself up on an elbow, allowing his head to dip down to the cushions next to hers. Speaking quietly next to her ear, his breath warm against her cool cheek and sending tingles down her spine, he said, "Now, if you're thinking I just brought you out here to seduce you...well, you might be right." Her lips curved in a smile and she shifted her hips against him slightly, noting with satisfaction the slight hitch in his breathing that resulted. "Seduce me? But I'm just an innocent, inexperienced country girl..." "Innocent? The hell you're innocent!" he retorted, gripping her tightly around the waist and pulling her body snugly against his. Not about to let him get the better of her, she again found her way under his sweater with searching hands, luxuriating in the raging warmth of his skin under the crisp cotton. Her fingers homed in on the small hard nub each nipple through his shirt, and she couldn't help but rake her fingernails over them gently, drawing a gasp and a curse from her victim. She grasped the fabric near his waistband and began to tug, attempting to untuck it and find her way through to bare skin. He groaned softly and fought to pull her away. "I really need to find some permanent solution for your wandering hands." He made do by gripping both wrists in one hand, letting the other perform a similar exploration on her body in retaliation for her impertinence. She held her breath as he smoothed a hand over her stomach, his touch changing in an instant from an attack to a caress. She could feel the heat from his hand through the thin cotton of the dress as it slid its way over her ribcage and upwards, resting momentarily under the sloping curve of her breast, tantalisingly close, his thumb tracing a slow arc. Exhaling shakily, she looked up into his eyes, willing him to touch her, desperate for the feel of his hands on her body. He looked back at her, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark, full of smouldering heat, coiled and ready to strike. He let his gaze wander down her body, taking in the soft roundness of her breasts, heaving with each breath, down to the curve of her hip and thigh to where the hem of her dress had begun to slip, exposing bare creamy skin. Determined to torture him as thoroughly as he was torturing her, she bent her knee, sliding her leg up, allowing the dress to fall back further, baring more of her skin to his hungry gaze. His eyebrows shot up at her boldness. "Oh, like that is, it?" he said with mock indignation. "What happened to the innocent country girl, hm?" He exacted his revenge by snagged her behind the knee and pulling her leg up and over his hip, tilting his body towards her and pressing against her aching centre. She arched against him shamelessly, struggling to breathe, her imagination overwhelming her with vivid recollections of how it would feel for him to push inside her, filling her... "Oh no you don't," he said, pulling back, his own voice ragged. "You girls just want one thing, don't you?" He rolled over on the soft cushions, hauling her with him until she lay on top of him. "You've got a bit of work to do first." He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "What? What sort of work?" she muttered, her brain a muddle. "Well, as seductions go, you have an awful lot of clothing on, as do I." Hiding a smile, she caught on to the game. But two could play at this, she thought, pushing herself up so that she straddled him, her skirt puddling around them both. She lost her train of thought as she felt the sheer heat of his body between her bare legs. A breathy moan escaped her and it took everything she had not to give in and shamelessly rub herself against him like some wild thing, possessed. Closing her eyes she forced herself to focus. Opening her eyes again to look down at him, she put on the best Marilyn Monroe she could muster, smiling coyly as she lifted the hair off the back of her neck, her chest thrust forward and elbows out. Letting her hands drift down to her shoulders she allowed her cardigan to slip down her arms before shedding it completely and tossing it to one side. She tried not to shiver violently the instant the cool air hit her back. She was about to begin the laborious chore of undoing the buttons along the front of her dress when something fell with a rustle and a cracking sound somewhere in the treeline along the far side of the pond. Startled, her courage instantly wavering, she ducked down, cowering against his chest. Deep blackness surrounded them on the pond, and she became acutely aware that while the raft was lit very gently, it was lit up nonetheless and they were out in the open. All of her remaining bravado evaporated. "Someone might see us!" she hissed. "Who? What...you're afraid of showing a bit of bare skin to a few bats and a night owl?" he teased. "Some seductress you are! One second you're doing your little striptease, the next you're hiding under the covers." She had indeed pulled one of the blankets over them both, partly due to the cold air, but mainly to preserve her threatened modesty. "Seriously Will, is this such a good idea?" He rubbed his hands over her hunched shoulders, his touch helping significantly to warm her. "I thought you were going to trust me?" he asked, his voice steady. Curling up against his chest she nodded, but still couldn't bring herself to continue. "I know, but-" She buried her face in his sweater, eyes screwed tightly shut. What is wrong with you, she berated herself, ashamed of her own cowardice. This was her chance to show him she had a little backbone. Steeling herself, she pushed herself back up into a sitting position, letting the blanket slip from her shoulders, refusing to acknowledge her shyness and concentrating instead on the warmth radiating from the man who watched her every move with eyes full of amusement. If there was anyone out there watching, she thought defiantly...let them see. Her fingers were stiff from the cold and she could only fumble at the small buttons on the front of her dress. Somehow they'd become an impossible puzzle and refused to be budged from their buttonholes. Exasperated, she wrestled with the infernal fastenings before finally admitting defeat, her classy seduction attempt in tatters. Hanging her head, she was only infuriated further to hear him snickering quietly at her expense. "Ohhh you-" she cried, her hands reaching to slap at him. Her hands never found their mark. Instead, she found herself swiftly rolled onto her back, once again pinned against the soft bed of cushions by the sheer wall of his body. He loomed over her, his mouth close to hers, their lips nearly brushing. He spoke in a low voice, heavy with intent, "Well, you know what they say. If you want something done right, you just have to do it yourself." With that he pressed his mouth to hers, angling his lips over hers with a raw hunger that spoke of many days, many nights of loneliness. He stroked at her lips gently, insistently, commandingly with his tongue until she granted him access. The embers of the fire burst back into full flame as he took possession of her mouth, his fingers tangling in her hair, his body searing hot against hers. She pushed her hands up under his sweater again, but this time he allowed her to drag the garment off and over his head, breaking the kiss for only a moment to toss it aside. She returned his searching kisses in earnest, boldly darting her tongue into his mouth, thoroughly intoxicated by the taste and feel of his lips against hers. Her dreams had been pretty powerful, but they were nothing compared to the real thing. He increased the intensity of his assault, his hands searching down her body until they found the hem of her dress. Tugging it upwards, he was soon bunching it under her arms and attempting to pull it over her head. Encountering resistance, he growled, "Damned buttons!" followed by several more curses. "Here, let me-" "No, I've got it-" Sarah heard the gentle rattle of several buttons raining onto the exposed edge of the raft, followed by the gentle plicking sound of small objects falling into the water. She let her head fall back against the cushions, sighing deeply as she lay there, deflated. She'd liked that dress too. "Sorry." Sarah shoulders started shaking. For a long moment Will's face was a picture of trepidation until he realised that she was shaking with silent laughter and not the anticipated flood of tears. Unable to contain herself any longer she howled, the sound of her laughter bouncing out over the water and reverberating into the trees. His deeper chuckle soon joined hers until they both lay gasping and panting before dissolving into further hysterics as soon as either of them attempted to speak. Never before had she felt so free, so alive. Clasped in his arms, laughing like she hadn't laughed since she was a child. It was as if some dark, cobwebbed room inside her was suddenly swept clean by a great gust of wind and all the doors and windows thrown wide to let the light in. She could sense that he felt it too...that racing heady sensation that threatened to burst from every pore...was it joy? Is that what being in love was? Joy? When they floated back down to earth again, she helped him unfasten the remaining buttons, and the injured dress joined his woollen sweater in a heap. A smile still flitted across her face with remembered laughter, her eyes glowing as she looked up at him. "You owe me a dress," she said. He bent his head, plying nibbling kisses along her neck. His voice rumbled against her chest, "Is that so?" She lay, rigid, realising the possible connotations of what she'd just said. She wished fiercely she could snag the words back out of the air. Flustered, she blurted, "It doesn't have to be-" and stopped herself just before saying the word. White. "...green," she ended with instead. "It could be blue or something..." she babbled, lamely, cursing herself for digging herself into a hole. She thought she sensed him pause, muttering a soft "Hmm," before continuing his kisses along her neck, rendering her senseless with his attention to the delicate spot just below her ear. But he didn't say anything more, and instead, trailed his kisses lower, across her collar bone and down the middle of her bare chest, leaving a damp trail for the cool breeze to catch with its sharp chill fingers. Robbed of her dress, she was now clad in only her bra, underwear and a satin slip, her skin breaking out in goose-bumps wherever it wasn't shielded from the night air. But she found herself fighting against the sensational madness. Why had the silly comment about the dress unsettled her so much? Her body clamoured to be satisfied and to sink down into that deep pool of hungry desire that burned in her belly, but her mind still grasped at a thought that just wouldn't quite materialise. She pushed against his chest, suddenly in desperate need for air. * * * He stared down at her, trying to understand the wordless appeal in her eyes and the resistant hands pushing against his chest. Only moments ago she'd been laughing and beaming up at him, and now all he could read in her eyes was distressed confusion. He tried to capture her hands to calm her. "Sarah...hey, hey...what's the matter? What's wrong?" She turned her head away from him, blinking hard several times before rolling her body away from him and curling up on her side, her arms clenched tight in front of her. He was completely lost now. What in god's name was the matter? He sat up, cursing softly under his breath. Shoving his fingers through his hair, he stared out into the velvet blackness. It felt like every time he made a breakthrough he did something to take them backwards again. He tried again. "Sarah, can you just tell me what's the matter? You were fine a minute ago..." He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently rolled her back towards him. Her face was damp with tears, her eyes screwed tightly shut. "Hey...hey. None of that...what is it? Please tell me..." he pleaded, trying to keep the concern out of his voice. She covered her face in her hands and whispered, "I don't know...I'm sorry, I don't know. It's silly." "Was it something I said? Something I did?" "No...no, nothing." "Then what?" She rubbed her fingers against her eyes as if to force the tears back where they came from. "I don't know...we were kissing, you were about to...you know...and I just suddenly felt like something was...wrong. I don't know. It's stupid." He could see that she was beginning to shiver with cold. Looking around, he found one of the blankets and dragged it up over them both. He shifted himself closer and she allowed herself to be coaxed back towards him until she was curled against the sheltering warmth of his chest. Her pale hair streamed over his arm. It was silky and warm and smelled like flowers. Taking a deep breath, he did his best to ignore the effect her nearly naked body was having on certain parts of his anatomy. She nestled against him, resting one of her small hands on his chest. Looking down at her, he could see her tawny eyelashes clumped in little spikes, wet with the tears she'd just shed. She looked a veritable picture of sweet innocence, and he cursed his treacherous body for finding it so incredibly arousing. Closing his eyes, he tried desperately to keep his mind clear and not focus on the soft curving thrust of her breasts against his chest. Through the haze he tried to think it through logically. Surely she wasn't just self-conscious? "Is it being out here, on the raft? Are you just afraid of being seen?" he asked gently. She shook her head. She seemed calmer now at least, resting against him, occasionally opening her eyes and finally looking up at him and meeting his concerned gaze. When she spoke, her voice was soft, but steady. "It's just all so...confusing. One minute I'm fine, and then all this just becomes overwhelming." "All this? You mean, us being...intimate?" he asked, searching for a word that wouldn't cause further skittishness, hoping to calm her. Instead, it was as if he'd pulled the pin on a grenade. She was out of his arms so fast he didn't have a chance to haul her back. She was crouched beside him, practically quivering as she erupted in an explosion of words, her voice shaking with emotion. "Intimate? Is that what we are? Intimate? Intimate what? Friends? Lovers? Acquaintances? What? What are we, Will? Tell me that." He jerked backwards, attempting to sit up, taken aback at her vehemence. Hell. Was this what it was all about? Because they hadn't put a name or label on what they were to each other? He breathed a heavy sigh, dropping his head backwards to stare up into the misty depths of the sky, trying to avoid the aching hurt in her gaze. How could she not know? He couldn't think now of a time when she wasn't just...the one. The only one. She was the breath in his body. The blood in his veins. All the usual cheesy lines just seemed to apply somehow. She was...everything. How could she not know that? He hadn't planned to tell her this way, but it was now or never... Before he could say a word, she'd launched herself to her feet, her hands gripped in tight fists at her sides. But her footing was unsteady on the slippery cushions and she teetered at the edge of the raft, one of the glass lanterns sliding off the edge and into the water with a splash as she fought to keep her balance. He shot to his feet and grabbed for her flailing arms to pull her back, catching her hand and then hooking a swift arm around her waist, stopping her fall just before she plunged into the freezing water. Losing his own balance, he tipped backwards and they took an unceremonious tumble together onto the soft bedding in a tangle of limbs. An elbow was poking him in the ribs and the big toe of his left foot was resting against the hot glass of one of the remaining lanterns. Sucking in a hissing breath, he yanked his foot back. He lay there, completely still, afraid to move in case she attempted to escape him again, trying to ignore the gentle throbbing of his big toe. He dropped his head back against the cushions, and when he finally caught his breath he groaned, "I told you. No swimming." He could feel her breathing hard against him. She hadn't made a sound since her muffled shriek as she fell on top of him, but his comment was rewarded with a sharp thump of her small fist on his chest. "Hey, that's a little ungrateful for someone who just saved you from a rather chilly dip in the pond, don't you think?" he asked, keeping his tone light, hoping her anger had passed. But she wasn't done, and propping herself up stiffly with her elbow still in his ribs, she tore into him again. "What is it with you men and that word, 'intimate'?" she said, accusingly. "Can't you think of a better word? Any word?" She slumped back down, despondent. He leaned forward, trapping her in his arms, resting his forehead against hers, holding her tight as she struggled against him, wincing as her fingernails dug into some rather sensitive areas. He waited it out, and after a little while he felt her begin to relax in his arms. When she finally stopped avoiding his eyes and returned his gaze, he spoke. "How can you not know what we are?" Her blue eyes searched his face, still defiant, still hurt, "I don't know, Will. What are we?" He took a deep breath, considering his words carefully. "Well, we were friends once, if I remember right. When you were little." "Friends?" Her voice held a world of dissatisfaction at his answer. "Well, that was then...and after that we didn't see each other for years, so we weren't much of anything then, were we?" He felt her sigh, her discontent palpable. "No, I guess not." He continued, "But then I saw you, on the side of the road..." "And?" she interjected. He was beginning to enjoy this. "And I thought to myself, I would know that blonde hair anywhere..." He saw her brighten slightly, and then added, "...and sure enough, you'd gotten yourself in a mess, silly cow." She straightened up so quickly their foreheads nearly knocked against each other, and before he could ward her off she was pummelling again him with her fists, her sharp little knuckles finding their way into his flesh with surprising force. Laughing, he gained control of her flailing arms, but not before she'd landed a few smarting blows to his shoulders and arms. Still chuckling, he hauled her to his chest, smiling down into her furious eyes. "See? There's the feisty little witch I love so much." The Water Nymph Ch. 07 She struggled for a moment before suddenly going very still. Her eyes locked onto his, her face quite pale in the flickering candlelight. She just stared at him before finally speaking, her voice subdued. "What did you say?" He hesitated, then forced himself to say what he knew he should have said long before. "I love you, Sarah." Just saying it freed something deep within him. He was taken aback by the tide of emotion that welled up in the wake of those few simple words. Like a man just awoken he took her face in his hands and began to place soft kisses everywhere he could, on her forehead, her cheeks, her eye lids, whispering the words over and over again against her tear-streaked skin, "I love you...I love you." He found her mouth with his and was instantly lost in the yielding warmth of her lips. "Oh Will," she murmured between kisses, her voice muddled with tears, "Say it again...I want to hear you say it again..." He made his way down her neck, suckling and biting her velvety skin, revelling in the way her body responded to him. "I love you. I love you. Every bewitching, infuriating, exasperating inch of you." * * * Some part of her had been waiting. Waiting in quiet desperation to hear those words from his lips. Terrified that somehow he didn't feel what she felt. But he did. He loved her. Her whole being thrilled at the thought. The panic retreated. The world righted itself. She turned the words over in her mind as if they were precious stones, savouring them, delighting in them. He loved her. But no matter how she tried, she couldn't ignore the fierce wild heat that he stirred in her with every kiss and caress. His arms clamped tightly around her waist as he suckled and licked his way down her neck and the gentle valley between her breasts. Where before the dampness had trailed cool in the night air, now all she could feel was flaming heat as his tongue and lips moved over her. He nuzzled insistently under the lacy edge of her bra, unable to bare her skin any further. In frustration, he gently bit at her nipple, already taut and straining against the soft fabric from the cold and the unrelenting onslaught of his mouth on her skin. She cried out, the spark of sensation shooting through her and igniting, the pluming flame spreading as a heavy ache between her legs. He wrestled with the clasp at her back before she felt the garment fall away and the chilled air flood across her heated skin. He sat back against the cushions, just staring at her. Instinctively, she moved her arms to cover herself. "No, don't," he said, his voice hoarse, his eyes slowly taking in her pale, bare skin before they flicked back up to meet hers. "Let me look at you." She allowed her arms relax to her sides, her eyes trapped by his gaze, drowning in the dark, restless heat in his eyes. Feeling her self-consciousness slowly begin to evaporate into the darkness of the night surrounding them, she slid her arms up over her head, arching her back slightly, displaying herself for him, wanting him to look and keep looking. She watched his expression intently through lowered lids, spurred on when her small movements caused his face to darken and the muscle in his jaw to flicker. If the rise and fall of his chest was anything to go by, he was breathing as hard as she was. Could it be true? Could she really be arousing him, just by lying there? For the first time, she felt the sudden fierce surge of that mysterious elemental power she'd always felt she lacked. Without breaking eye contact, he shifted his hips restlessly, settling a little further back on the cushions, watching the subtle transformations in her body language. Swallowing audibly, he spoke, his voice low and hypnotic. "So, you like that, hm? Being naked for me?" His words seemed to send her spiralling off somewhere into the sky above them, her skin oblivious to the cold and burning from within with each deep drugged throb of her heartbeat, pounding in her head and chest like some primal drum. Moaning softly, she arched again, this time her flesh crying out so desperately for his touch that her own hands made their way over her skin, brushing gently over the curve of her breasts, sending sweet thrills to the wet heat between her legs as her fingertips drifted over her nipples. She heard him stifle a groan, and let her eyelids flutter closed, revelling in this new power she had over him. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she slid her hands over her naked skin with more deliberate intent, aroused as much by her own touch as the knowledge that he was just sitting there, devouring her with his eyes, barely able to restrain himself. Lost in a sensual haze, her hands smoothed over the soft curve of her belly and floated even lower, fingers dipping and disappearing beneath the soft waistband of her satin slip. With a muffled curse, Will rose to his knees, dragging her firmly towards him in one cat-like movement. Searing, impatient hands glided along the outside of her thighs and, finding their goal, she felt the tug as he stripped her lacy panties off and down her bare legs. Her slip was the next victim, and she soon found herself naked, a fully-clothed Will kneeling between her exposed thighs. His dark head bent and her nipple was drawn forcefully into the slick warmth of his mouth, his tongue swirling and flickering against the most sensitive centre. Without success she attempted to suppress a moan, her hands clutching at his shoulders, fingers churning upwards, tangling in his hair, pressing him against her with increasing urgency. He fastened onto her other breast with the same intensity, driving her higher and deeper into the excruciating madness with his devilish lips and tongue. She ceased caring about the wild sounds his touch wrenched from her, her hands gripping and kneading his shoulders. Without warning, he pulled away, groaning, and sat back, gasping for air as if a man drowning. Robbed of his touched, she whimpered in complaint, unable to comprehend why the incredible pleasure had stopped. Lost in the languorous haze of arousal, she could only watch as he scrubbed his hands over his face and pushed his fingers through his hair, just kneeling above her and regarding her silently with an indecipherable expression on his face. She fought to put words together, her brain a muddle. "Will...what is it? What...what's the matter?" But he smiled and chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss her with incredibly gentleness, his lips skimming over hers like the flutter of a moth's wing, his breath still rapid and unsteady. He laid his cheek against hers, saying, "I'm fine, love. It's your bewitching skin that's the problem. And these," he said, trailing soft kisses over her bare breasts, growling softy against her as he did, the slight vibrations only increasing the pleasure of each kiss. "Is that so?" she asked, sucking in a breath at his teasing touches. He nodded, making his way upwards, finally placing another feather-light kiss on her chin, arms braced either side of her shoulders. "Damn you, but every time I try to make gentle, romantic love to you, you do...something...and I just want to...to-" His eyes flicked up to hers, as if undecided about his next words. Her voice was a whisper, her eyes locked on his. "Want to what?" He hesitated before lowering his mouth again to brush softly against hers, their breath mingling, his voice rumbling up from deep in his chest. "To fuck you, love. I just want to fuck you." he said, his voice ragged, watching her intently, his hips pressing against hers imperceptibly as he said it. "Hard," he added, rocking against her again, his intent unmistakeable. Incoherent, she arched her hips, moaning, stunned by the wave of heat that engulfed her body trigged by his words alone. Wordlessly begging him with her body to do something...anything, to quench the deep ache, the fabric of his jeans rough against the skin of her inner thighs as she shifted restlessly against him. She floated, his voice the centre of her existence. Everything else seemed very far off and out of focus. She waited breathlessly for his next words, unable to move. Somewhere, a small part of her mind wondered if this was what it felt like to be hypnotised. Just the sound of his voice, devastatingly soft and low in her ear, and she was lost. * * * It was as if she'd turned to liquid silver in his hands. Hot, liquid silver. She responded instantly and passionately to a word, a touch. When she looked up into his eyes, even in the dim light he could see how far gone she was, and it took every ounce of his resolve to not strip off and just bury himself deep inside her warmth. But neither of them would last long, and he wanted it to last. Wanted it to be good...for both of them. She arched her soft, naked, delicious curves up against him again. God, she felt good. Too good. He dragged himself back from the edge. Her lips brushed his ear and he heard her whisper softly, almost more to herself than to him, "I love it when you say things..." Hiding his surprise, he nuzzled her neck, one hand cupped beneath her head, the other smoothing steady circles over the curve of her stomach, teasing her but going no lower. "Hmm...what sort of things?" he asked, biting gently on her earlobe. "You know..." she trailed off, breathless. "No, I don't know..." He did know, of course. He knew what she wanted to say, but couldn't bring herself to. He'd hesitated to use language like that with her before, but somehow he knew that this wanton, fluid creature in his arms would do and say things she'd never allowed herself to before. He moved his ministrations down to the gentle hollow at the base of her neck, his lips, then tongue pressing insistently against the rapid pulse beating there. He wanted desperately for her to trust him. He didn't want to take advantage of her receptive state, but he was equally sure that she wanted him to take her there. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse and he had to work hard to steady it, "Tell me, love...what do you like me saying to you?" She squirmed beneath him. He could feel the need radiating from her, but he also sensed her mortification at the thoughts and images springing up in her own mind. She finally seemed to scrape together the courage to speak, but it was in a whisper so soft he could barely hear her. "I like you saying that you...want me." "Is that it?" he said gently, teasing her, hoping to draw her out. "No...no." She turned her head away, her cheeks pinking up. "What then? Come one. You can say it," he said, fighting the mounting arousal he felt as he watched her open up to him. "I want to hear you say it." She threaded her fingers through his hair but he moved his head until he caught her gaze, locking his eyes with hers. He wasn't about to let her hide away from him. Maybe a little encouragement and reward would help her, he thought. He smoothed his hand in another circle over the velvet softness of stomach before slipping lower, his thumb brushing against her before retreating back up to her belly button. She arched, whimpering at his cruel teasing, "Will!" "Yes?" "No fair!" He smiled down at her now, his expression devilish, "I'm waiting to hear the words." Again he slid his hand lower in an intentional caress, again his thumb brushed against her. This time he dipped his fingers every so lightly into her wet heat, trailing his slick fingertips over her and drawing a ragged cry from her lips. God, she was so wet. He had to breathe deep, his eyes closed, clinging to the last shreds of control. When he drew his hand back up her stomach she protested, but it was himself he fought against to not slide his hand back down to delve and explore. Swallowing, he found his voice, "Magic words first, witchy girl..." "No...!" she said plaintively, begging him to touch her again, begging him not to make her say the words. "Say it after me...'I love it when you say...' " She wriggled under his mocking hand, "I love it when you say..." she paused, visibly squirming, "...when you say you want to fuck me." These last words were said in a breathy whisper, her eyes closed. He groaned in answer, just hearing those words from her mouth sending a thrill of raging need straight to where he already strained against the fabric of his jeans. He slid his hand down between her legs, gently stroking her slickness with his fingertips before slowly pushing a finger deep inside her. Her head fell back, gasping at the sudden assault. He drew his finger out steadily, growling in her ear, "Say it again." She could only whimper in reply. "Say it..." "Please Will...please fuck me." Her eyes opened in time to see the flicker of surprise on his face at her sudden bold request. The blunt directness of her words hit him low in the belly. Such damn sexy words coming from those innocent lips. He rewarded her by pushing firmly inside her with two fingers this time, his thumb sweeping over her most sensitive spot. He watched with satisfaction from beneath hooded eyelids as she arched, keening softly. "You want me to fuck you, love? Is that what you want?" "Yes...god, please..." The rest of her words were lost amidst her feverish whimpers. He swore, cursing the fact that he was still fully clothed, overcome with the sudden urgency to drown himself in her smooth, soft nakedness. With the only shred of care he could muster he gently extracted his hand from the pooling warmth between her thighs and began tearing impatiently at his clothes. Why on earth had he insisted on a button up shirt? He felt small fingers fumbling at the cool metal of his belt buckle until it gave way, and looked down to see Sarah attempting to dislodge the button of his jeans. "Careful, careful..!" he groaned, snagging her hands away from where they brushed against the bulge in his jeans. He gave up trying to wrestle free of his shirt long enough to cover her body with his own, his kiss rough and aggressive, angling his mouth over hers with a raw need and hunger deeper than he'd ever felt. What was it about this woman that made him crazy, drunk with wanting? He broke the kiss, breathing hard against her ear. "God, Sarah, you're so sexy...you just have no idea..." She stared up at him, eyes wide and wild. "Don't stop," she breathed, her hands pulling impatiently at the hem of his half-buttoned shirt. With a groan, he dragged himself away long enough to tug the shirt off over his head, buttons be-damned. He shucked off his jeans and boxers in one movement and kicked them away before rolling back towards the welcoming silky-soft curves of her body. The shock of her warm bare skin pressed full-length against him caused him to suck in a breath, his erection throbbing painfully at the contact, and he had to steel himself not to part her legs roughly and just take her right then. Keep it together, Will, you can do this, he chided himself, teeth gritted. "Are you cold?" he whispered, his voice ragged, running a slow hand over her ribcage to the downy softness of her tummy. She felt so damned good. She regarded him steadily through lowered lids, her breath rising and falling sharply as he caressed her. She shook her head wordlessly, her hips rising up to meet his hand. The pleading in her eyes sent him over the edge, and he caught her mouth in a deep, winding kiss, his tongue dancing with hers, drinking in her taste and revelling in the velvety depths of her mouth. He skimmed a hand over the soft curls of her mound and dipped his fingers into the slick heat below, rubbing a slow thumb against her before plunging his fingers deep inside. She sobbed helplessly into his kiss, her hips bucking wildly against his hand. He could feel her muscles clench around him and he moaned into her mouth. He knew that he should be giving. Taking his time, slowly, patiently giving her pleasure. But all he wanted to was to take. Take everything she had to give him and more. To take her to the edge of the abyss and over, and down and down. He raised himself up and pushed her thighs apart with his knee, catching her hands and pressing them firmly into the cushions above her head. "Tell me again, witchy girl..." "Fuck me..." She whispered, her voice husky with want. "God, Sarah..." he groaned, pushing her knees further apart with both of his. His raging hard-on was pressed against her hip bone, but he gritted his teeth and held himself back. Shifting until he was brushing himself gently against her, he growled softly at the feel of the moist heat sliding against the tip his erection. "Please ..." she whimpered, trying her best to move against him, her body twisting and writhing under him. He tried to calm her movements, his control on a knife's edge. "Look at me, Sarah," he said, brushing his thumb over her cheek gently. Her eyes met his, searching his face, incoherent with need. "I want you to tell me. When I push inside...I need you to tell me." He watched her intently until he saw comprehension dawn slowly in her eyes. She knew what he needed to hear. He needed to hear it from her. "Will...I love you," she whispered, her eyes gleaming up at his in the darkness. As the words formed on her lips he pushed into her with a growl and thrust hard. He lay still on top of her, gasping for breath, buried deep, overcome by the sudden desire to weep. He hadn't known. Hadn't known how it would feel to hear the words. "I love you...I love you." She was placing kisses on his chin, her voice wavering with emotion, her eyes shining with answering tears. "Oh Sarah, I love you so much..." he whispered, his throat choked with emotion. He pressed his mouth to hers, groaning as her tongue moved insistently against his lips, seeking his. Bracing himself, he thrust again, pushing deeper, eliciting soft cries from her as she arched into him. Her legs clung tight around his hips, drawing him in, and he angled himself as he plunged hard and fast, taking, possessing, owning her body with his. The whirling madness took them both, the pleasure rising and falling and peaking. Rough cries mingled with murmured endearments as he drove them both, pushing closer and closer to the precipice edge. Clinging to each other, they tumbled together over the edge, down and down in the darkness. * * * They lay, limbs entwined, wrapped in a blanket, staring up at the expanse of sky, their warm breath creating faint, misty trails rising up and evaporating into the cool night air. Will slid an arm under her and rolled her so that she lay nearly on top of him. Propping herself up on his chest, she looked down at him, her hair falling like a curtain around them. She could see his eyes glinting in the dark and the lingering hunger in his gaze. Would she ever get used to his blatant desire for her after so many years of thinking herself plain and ordinary? Telling him how she felt in that moment had been such a relief and a release. His reaction had silenced the last of her doubts of his feelings for her. When she shivered he tugged the blanket more firmly around her shoulders, pulling her close. But something was tickling at her subconscious. Something out of place. She pushed herself back up again, looking around the raft. "Will, the candles have gone out," she said. They had, and other than the stars above them, the raft had gradually plunged into darkness. All but one lantern. "Will," she said again. "Is that candle...blinking?" She nearly tumbled over as Will suddenly pulled himself to a sitting position. "I nearly forgot!" he said, crawling on his knees towards the dim, flickering lantern. "Forgot what?" she queried, confused but pleasantly distracted by his leanly muscled body. He rolled back towards her, clutching the lantern carefully upright. Unlike the others, this jar had a lid screwed tight, the soft light shining through small holes punched in its top.