Shades of Trust

Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Atwood House

10:03 a.m.

Sophia awoke feeling that something was different. Then a big, warm body shifted behind her and an arm snaked around her waist pulling her toward a hard chest.

She turned her head and smiled. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” He grinned at her. “Sleep well?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She stretched out like a dancer, her arms entwining above her head and her body undulating, flexing the soles of her feet on his.

“You look like Sleeping Beauty, totally perfect and ravishing in your sleep.” He combed her hair with his fingers.

“Sleeping Beauty is blonde.” As were all your lovers before me.

He laughed, kissed the tip of her nose and whispered on her lips, “You’re really, really ravishing when you sleep, and when you’re awake. It’s not just your looks. It’s you, Sophia. You and you are mine.” He made love to her slowly, tenderly, words of worship whispered in her ears as he revered her body.

Afterward, they lay there spent, enjoying each other’s company before going downstairs for breakfast.

Sophia watched Alistair as he helped her put away the dishes. He talked about his childhood and holidays as an adult with his family. Clearly, he had a happy family and he missed his deceased mother a lot. Heather’s name never came up.

“I have to go home to pick up some clothes. I can’t wear my jeans the whole weekend.”

“Well.” She grinned wolfishly at him. “You can just stay naked. It’ll save time.”

“Minx!” He laughed and swatted her butt. Hard.

She squealed, jumped, and turned to look at him, a wary expression on her face. “Alistair…we haven’t talked about last night.”

“What about last night?” His features acquired his characteristic poker-faced mask as he leaned on the counter, nonchalantly.

“The pain and violence thing.”

“What about it?” He crossed his arms on his chest, the muscles bulging.

“It—Will you always want that?”

“Nae. Not always.”

“Not always,” she mused, sitting on a chair by the table. “But frequently?”

“It depends on you.” He tilted his head to the side and studied her guarded and cautious look. “You said you liked it.”

“Not exactly. I said it was disturbing. Disturbing and wonderful. What if this storm of passion ends? What if you see me as I am? And if this pain thing overwhelms me?” She made a remark interweaving the lyrics of the Snow Patrol song he’d chosen. “Passion is a sickness. It confounds and makes you do things just to please the other person. Quite different from love. In love, you find delight despite the person’s flaws.”

“I want to see you as you are, every day that I live,” he remarked, almost quoting the song and narrowing his eyes at her.

She just looked at him, not answering.

“I see you paid attention to the song,” he said, frowning.

“Paid attention to the song?” No, I did not. How could I? “Not really, but I love it. It’s one of my favorites.”

“It’s a bit dark and blue.”

“Why did you choose it then?”

“I like the piano and the beat. And the lyrics are—”

“Beautiful. It’s about a relationship. Besides…” She sighed and her lips curled a bit, more a grimace than a smile. “I’m despondency and darkness personified.”

“You don’t know what darkness is, Sophia.” He sat down on the chair next to hers, gripping her chin in his left hand. He shook his head, his long bangs falling over his right eye. “You’re like the fresh air from an orchard in spring. I am darkness.”

“I don’t believe in your biased and poor opinion of yourself.” Sophia’s hand raised to brush away the hair from his eye. “Seems we have a lot to learn about each other.”

“So it seems.” He tilted his head. “Did I hurt you? Yesterday?”

She looked down at her fingers and bit her lip.

“Sophia?” He rubbed his jaw, quietly studying her, his face inscrutable again.

“I—” She looked up at his face. “It surprised me and, yes, it hurt. It’s so confusing.”

“But are you hurting? Now?”

She frowned and answered indirectly, “I’ll probably have marks by tomorrow. I bruise easily.”

“If you don’t like it, we can try other things.” Marks…fingerprints. My fingerprints. He changed the subject abruptly. “What have you planned for us?”

She let it go. “I didn’t plan anything. I’m open to suggestions.”

“I can think of a few things I’d like to do,” he said with a positively decadent grin.

“Promises, promises.” She smiled at him. But it faded and she looked down at her fingers, biting her lip.

He tsked and his thumb pulled her lip from her teeth. His fingers curled under her chin, raising her face to his intense green gaze. “What’s nagging you?”

She stared at him for a long time, musing. “Why did you want me to condemn you last night?”

“Because I have a black heart. Or no heart at all.” He sighed. “I’m guilty, Sophia.”

“No heart?” she whispered, and shook her head. “And what are you so guilty of?”

“Of everything I told you.”

“Well, I can’t understand if you don’t want to explain. It seems to me that you need to feel guilt.” She studied him. “You were very angry when I absolved you.”

“I was. Very angry,” he confirmed, quietly. “I won’t lie to you. I’m guilty of those sins. It wasn’t right to accept absolution.”

She rose from the chair, thoughtfully, and strolled to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, “Do you want one?”

He shook his head.

She uncapped the lid and drank, her brow creased, her eyes never leaving his face. So controlled, Alistair. So detached. Such a bad liar. “Don’t you want to tell me about it?”

“Nae.”

All right. All right. “It’s your right to remain silent.” She shrugged. “But, you didn’t need to corner me like that. I had already answered your question in my own way. Such labels as innocent or guilty are…” She waved her hand in the air. “…just labels. They don’t really matter to me. I’ve seen criminals acquitted and innocent people condemned. We all have a bit of evil inside us. We’re not perfect.” Her eyes darkened and she lowered her eyelids, hissing, “Some less than others.”

He tilted his head trying to understand the cryptic remark. “Nae, we are no’ perfect. But we’re responsible for our acts.”

She straightened up to her full height and crossed her arms over her chest. A dark smile spread on her lips and she whispered to him, “Only if we get caught.” That’s enough, Sophia.

He raised his brows, astonished at another cryptic remark and her weird stance.

She drank the rest of her water and turned her back to him, shaking her head as if scolding herself. She threw the bottle with rage into the rubbish bin in the far corner of the kitchen and stared in that direction.

Alistair strolled to her, putting his hands on her shoulders and digging his fingers into her skin, massaging her tense muscles.

She relaxed into his chest, whispering, “Mmm, I like that.”

He bent his head and kissed her hair, murmuring, “I like you.”

“Promise me something?”

“What, Beauty?”

She turned in his arms, placed her palms on his chest, and fixed him with her hazel, troubled gaze. “Don’t turn your anger unfairly toward me. Trust isn’t something I bestow easily. It’s something precious. You have it or you don’t. Like faith, like love. It’s blind. It has to be. If I trust, if I love, I’ll always believe you, no matter the circumstances.”

Her beautiful eyes were open windows to a scared and hurt soul and Alistair drowned in them as they showed him all her feelings.

“Don’t doubt my word. It’s the most valuable thing I could ever give you.”

4:30 p.m.

Leaning on the doorjamb of the kitchen, Sophia stared at Alistair.

She’d seen him wearing formal and informal clothes. And no clothes at all.

Now though, resting on the kitchen counter eating leftovers from their lunch, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, he’d never been sexier.

His hair was still wet from the shower and small rivulets of water ran down his neck, bare chest, and back. “Hungry?” he asked as he saw her.

For an edible hunk. Pushing from the threshold, Sophia sauntered over to him. “No.” She smiled and shook her head at the plate of food he held. She picked up a glass from the cupboard and poured some fresh passion fruit juice she’d made for breakfast. “Seems you are. But then I can’t think of many people that eat as much as you do.”

“I have to keep strong. You consume all my calories.” He stabbed a steamed broccoli and waved it at her. “Besides, this cooking of yours, it’s too light. Too many vegetables. That is why you’re so thin.”

“No, it’s not true.” She laughed. “I eat everything. I just prefer to eat healthy food at home.”

She knew how good her food was and she could tell how much he liked it. She had prepared a green salad with buffalo mozzarella, grilled salmon with honey mustard sauce, and steamed vegetables. Sophia motioned to the juice. “Do you want some?”

“No’ now, thanks.”

She took a seat at the table and gazed out the window at her beautiful garden outside.

“Sophia?”

Pulled from her thoughts by the soft sound of her name, she looked up and saw him watching her intently.

“Yes?”

“Is everything all right?”

“Yeah…” She nodded absentmindedly. “I was just wondering…” She drank the juice, her gaze unfocused. I was wondering if this is true. If it’s not another bad joke God is playing on me. She’d meditated on these questions more and more since she’d starting going out with him.

He sat beside her and curled his fingers under her chin, making her face him. “What? What were you wondering?”

Needing reassurance, she voiced her thoughts, “Is this true? Is it real?”

“Aye, it is.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her right ear. “It’s for real. As long as we want it to be.”

She tilted her head, a thoughtful frown creasing her forehead. Really? Not just a passing infatuation?

His finger smoothed out the lines on her brow. “Don’t you worry. I want this to work. And it seems to me that you do too. Now…” A slow smile spread over his face. “I want to collect a promise.”

“What promise?” Her brows lowered.

“Your promise to take me for a ride in your McLaren. I wish to see if you’re really as good a driver as you claim you are. We can dine at The Waterside Inn in Berkshire. It’s a restaurant with rooms, as they like to call it. A very common concept in France. We can spend the night there. The accommodations are spectacular. It’s about an hour’s drive. What do you think?”

“I’m game.” She smiled, looking up at him.

“Great. Do you want to spend the night there?”

“Why not? We can take some wine, and please,”—she ogled him, stressing the word—“you can choose from my cellar as if you were choosing from yours.”

He put his hands up. “I will. Don’t worry. I don’t want to incur your wrath. Again.”

She harrumphed playfully. “I’m going to pack, and then we can swing by your place to pick up your things.”

“Sophia! Slow down!” Alistair grabbed the door handle when she exited a sharp curve at eighty miles per hour.

Her laugh rang in the car. “Scared?” she asked, without taking her eyes from the road and pressed down on the accelerator. In a second, the needle jumped to a hundred and sixty-five miles per hour.

The powerful motor roared and they were pressed against the plush leather seats. “Jesus Christ!”

“Chicken!” Just before she entered another curve, she slowed down a bit, but still took the turn at a hundred and ten miles per hour. She slowed down to enjoy the drive and glanced at Alistair, rigid on the seat with his face drawn taut. “You asked for it. I told you I was a good driver.”

“Are you trying to kill us both?” His voice was dry.

“No, of course not.” She chuckled. “I’ve always driven well, and last year I took a special defensive driving course offered by a former policeman in São Paulo.”

“And you call this defensive?” He started to relax in the seat. “I would say it’s aggressive driving.”

“Handsome.” She smiled, amazed at his behavior. “It’s defensive driving against kidnapping or such. It’s all about speed, being in control of minute movements and having complete knowledge of what the car can do.”

“Indeed.” He exhaled loudly, still mad at her. “You do drive quite well.” I have to concede.

“Thanks. I’m used to this beauty.” She caressed the steering wheel and checked the route on her GPS. “We’ll get there in about fifteen minutes, I guess.”

“Sophia, this car is more of a beast than a beauty.” He snorted. “Like your horses.”

“Well, then. They’re beautiful, gorgeous beasts. I do love powerful things.” She smirked at him with a malicious gleam in her eyes, measuring him. “They make interesting toys.”

He fell into an astonished silence. How dare she? “Toys,” he repeated slowly, experiencing the word on his tongue, “Toys.” Sophia, I’m not a man to trifle with. Her explicit bantering and debasement of him surprised and aroused him. Leaning over, an evil look on his face, he whispered in her ear, “One day, I’m going to introduce you to some of my toys.”

She smiled naïvely at him, unaware of his dark thoughts. “I think I’d like that.”

“Don’t be so certain, Sophia,” he murmured.

Why? She glanced at him, a wary look coming over her face. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer and changed the subject, “I want you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“Promise me.”

“No,” she answered firmly. Enough with the unknown promises. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep. Please, state your case.” The small joke didn’t lessen her refusal.

“Promise me that you won’t go driving again, like a lunatic, without warning me.”

“No.”

“Nae?” Alistair saw red. “Did you just say nae?”

“I just said no,” she confirmed, and repeated, “no.”

He raked his left hand through his long hair. “Sophia, you don’t want to defy me.”

“Oh? I don’t?” She blinked. “But it’s not a question of defying you. No, not at all. It’s more a question of you ordering me around. I don’t respond well to being ordered or bullied. I’ve told you so.”

“Then we will have to work on that,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I don’t think so.” She mashed the accelerator, the needle jumping up again. “I hate being ordered around. Try to ask gently, for a change. I might, let me repeat, I might think about your request. Got it?”

Where did I find this insane woman? Why have I involved myself with her? f**k. How am I going to deal with her?

“Got. It?” Sophia asked again, peering at his expression.

“Aye.” He clipped his answer; his accent strong, “I. Got. It.” He stared at the sinking sun, struck by the violent searing colors across the sky. The dark blue sky slashed with fierce reds and oranges, mirroring his own crazed feelings.

In the last few years, Alistair had been all about control. If she destroyed his control, she would destroy him. She stirred his emotions to a startling degree, a treacherous height. Since Heather, no woman has ever made me…need. Face it, Alistair Connor. She makes you want more than a quick f**k. That’s why you have been putting up with all her whims.

Sophia drove in silence for a few minutes, pondering his entreaty, stealing a quick glance at him.

His hands were clenched in fists, resting on his thighs. He brooded, looking straight ahead, his eyes half-closed and fine lines creasing the sides of his eyes.

“Alistair…” She glanced again at his rugged profile illuminated by the beautiful sunset.

“Aye?” He turned his head slowly to study her face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“So, you are promising me no’ to do it?”

“No, I’m not. This is something I very much like to do and I don’t like having to explain what I do or don’t do,” she answered. “In fact, I’d say it’s vital to have some freedom. And as you see, I drive quite well.”

“I’ll worry.” His voice had lost its dry tone and anxiety had taken its place.

“I understand.” She mused, “Nonetheless, risk is a part of life.”

“A part of it I don’t like. I’ve had enough of losing control. And I’ve seen where taking risks like these lead.” He shifted on the seat to better look at her and his right hand squeezed her left thigh. “Death.”

Oh, God, Alistair. I didn’t even think of that. “Don’t worry. I don’t intend to die soon.”

His lips twitched. “That’s very reassuring.”

“And I promise I’ll be careful, okay?” Sophia added as she parked the car at the main entrance of the charming hotel.

He nodded, silently.

“Mademoiselle, welcome to The Waterside Inn.” The valet lifted the McLaren door.

Sophia thanked him and opened the trunk for him to retrieve her bag, but Alistair was already there and took both his and hers in one hand.

He stretched out his free hand to her, an olive-branch offering, which she didn’t refuse.

It’s really cozy. Sophia breathed in the chilly night air as they walked to Ryepeck Cottage, one of a few that were dotted around the restaurant. The Waterside Inn was more personal than an average hotel.

“We don’t offer room service, but there’s a guest kitchen at the end of the corridor where you’ll find a Nespresso coffee machine and a variety of teas. And of course, a continental breakfast is served in the morning in your room or in the private garden. Just call us whenever you are ready,” the staff member explained proudly. He led them down the corridor to their suite, where he opened the door and held it for them.

Located on the first floor, La Rivière, the suite Alistair had chosen, had a comfortable sitting room next to the bedroom, with a king-sized bed, and a bathroom with a combined tub and shower, enormous fluffy white towels, and many L’Occitane toiletries.

Sophia emerged from the bathroom and looked at the luxurious rooms all done in red-and-gold silks and damasks. She kicked off her leather loafers and threw herself on the bed, stretching.

“These seem very comfortable,” he said, pointing to her shoes.

“I have a hard time finding shoes my size, so every time I go to Buenos Aires, I buy three or four pairs. They have incredible shoes for men too.”

He made a face. “Probably not in my size. I wear thirteen and a half, UK size. I’ve always had problems with clothes and shoes.”

“Rochester Big & Tall, then?” She chuckled. “Or bribe every salesman in England to hold the only available pair of shoes in your size, and shirts and cardigans with the longest sleeves, and the longest jeans.”

He laughed. “Aye, how did you guess?”

“Although Gabriel is not as tall as you, he has—” She choked at her slip. Unnerved, she jumped from the bed and strolled barefoot out to the private garden, which ran to the edge of the River Thames.

She sat on a bench, tucking her feet under her legs, and missing the enchanting view of the river as she blinked away her tears.

Fuck you, Gabriel. f**k you. Alistair grabbed the coat she had neatly hanged in the closet and walked to her side, putting it over her shoulders.

“Tomorrow we’re going to have breakfast by the river,” he said, sitting by her side, pointing to a table strategically set under an old majestic tree to his right. “It’s lovely here.”

“Do you often think about your daughter?” she asked in a small voice.

“Every day,” he murmured in her hair, his arms encompassing her and bringing her to his lap. “Every single day.”

They remained quiet for some minutes, each one immersed in their own thoughts, the sound of the water lapping at the sand, soothing their scarred souls.

“When did she die?” Alistair’s neck muffled Sophia’s voice.

“Last year, on January thirtieth. When they lowered her little coffin to the earth, I almost flung myself into that f*****g hole.” He shuddered and lifted her chin to make her look at him. “I made a promise to her that day that I would never, ever let a woman in my life.” He lowered his head to kiss her gently and whispered on her lips, “May she forgive me.”