Chapter 28
twenty-eight
CLAIRE
The countryside passed in a bumbling green and orange. I hadn’t been able to wipe the smile off my face all day.
The previous night with Owen had been exhilarating, taking me to levels of ecstasy I hadn’t known were available. I’d grown obsessed with him and those damn ropes.
And even better, he loved me.
Not in a way I had to hope and guess he might, but he’d told me.
Not once, but repeatedly. When he’s come deep inside me.
When he’d carried me in his jumper across the yard to his house.
When he’d washed my hair and massaged my shoulders.
When we laughed over a silly movie in bed, and again, first thing in the morning.
An older woman smiled from her seat, and I wondered if she could see the joy coming from my pores.
‘Otterleigh Bay,’ The bus driver announced, and I grabbed my shopping bags.
‘Thank you,’ I said with a smile, stepping down to the pavement outside and turning for Rose Cottage.
A woman stood in my way.
Blonde. Pretty.
Becky.
She leant against the low stone wall and fixed me with a smile so sweet it would make birds burst into song.
Ignoring her, I walked past, avoiding eye contact. It didn’t deter her; she just fell into step beside me like we were old friends.
‘Hi, love,’ she said with a saccharine edge. ‘You look tired. Owen’s not keeping you up all night, is he?’
The fucking gall.
‘I’m heading home.’ I hoped the curtness in my words would dissuade her.
They did not.
‘Of course you are, and I’m heading this way too, so we may as well get to know one another a little. I just wanted to say a quick word, woman to woman. I hate the thought of you… stumbling into the same little potholes I did.’
Potholes? What was she on about?
‘I’m fine, thank you.’
‘It’s just, well, you know how Owen is. So gentle. So thoughtful. It’s all so lovely. Until it’s not.’ Becky glanced at me, like we were conspirators. ‘Let me guess? He told you that I did something bad?’
‘You blackmailed him.’
Becky gave a tinkly laugh that dripped through me like acid.
‘As if that’s the lies he spun? Honestly, and I bet everyone believed him. Makes sense. I didn’t grow up here, just a lost soul who stumbled in one day and was saved by a hot kilted wonder. They make you feel like family, until they decide you’re not.’
My teeth scraped as my jaw tensed.
Just like me.
No. I trusted Owen. Becky was trying to freak me out. I walked faster, wanting to cut her off as soon as possible.
‘I bet he pretended he was all about pleasing you? And gawd he’s good with that tongue. Did he make you hold off on touching him, too, hmm? What better way to make a woman desperate to please than to make her feel like the only one who can get into his mind? He said the same to me…’
The sweetness cloyed in my throat like powdered sugar.
‘You don’t even know me,’ I said.
‘No, I don’t. I wish I’d known myself better back then, if I’m honest.’ Her voice softened, her face in a pitying mask.
‘Owen is very good at tenderness. It’s one of the things that makes him…
addictive. The aftercare, the attention.
So when you find yourself doing dirty things, you tell yourself it’s love, don’t you? ’
‘Nothing we do is dirty.’ I enjoyed the rope and the power games. I might enjoy pleasing Owen, but I didn’t play the kinky games for him. I played them with him.
‘Well, isn’t that a relief? I only mean he probably framed things as woe is me, Becky hurt me, I’m not like other guys. And before you know it, you’re on your knees proving what a good girl you can be for him.’
My face blazed. She was lying. Owen wasn’t like that.
Becky’s eyes dipped to my wrist as we turned down the lane toward the square, to the faint rope marks that lined my wrist. Her eyes glittered.
‘Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to let him tie you up. If a man needs that to get hard around you, he isn’t worth it. It’s all fun and games until it isn’t.’
Heat crawled up my neck. Had Owen really said the same things to Becky? Was it all a charade?
A wave of nausea roiled in my stomach.
‘He’s not a monster. He… needs to be the saviour. And if you buck back, the stories come. A difficult woman. A misunderstanding. I’d hate that for you.’
‘You don’t get to insert yourself into what we have,’ I said with a quake in my voice.
‘Oh, Claire.’ She touched my arm lightly, like we were friends. ‘I’m warning you because I wish someone had warned me. I’m being blunt because I care.’
I stopped in my tracks. She turned and placed her hands on my shoulders.
‘We all want to be wanted. It’s not a crime. Just take care of yourself, okay?’
‘You should go,’ I managed.
The look she gave me made me feel like a stupid child. ‘Welcome to Otterleigh, love.’
Anger filled me as she turned and tottered away, looking every bit like an absolute sweetheart. Around me, life continued. Someone shouted for a dog, a toddler sang an indiscernible song, and Trevor mocked me from Rose Cottage’s roof.
A series of images flashed in my head as I stumbled through the gate and let myself into the house.
Owen’s hands cupping my jaw.
Owen looking at me with those green eyes.
Owen in my kitchen, painting ceilings and being sweet.
Us cuddled up, flirting and laughing at old TV shows.
The man who didn’t hide me.
My Owen.
Despite my surety in his character, Becky’s words still invaded my chest like rot.
Flopping myself onto the sofa, I breathed. Once. Twice. As if air had grown sticky. I turned the radio up too loud and told myself I was fine.
And for the first night since arriving, I didn’t text Owen.