Part Eight

Marc flushed slightly, and Isobel didn’t miss that, with a sigh she dropped her eyes, “I knew it. You’re leading me on.”

He shook his head, “no, I’m not, really. But I am embarrassed about things. About eighteen months ago, we dated, very briefly. It was the first time since Sadie died that I felt ready to try again. She, Margaret, was there, she was helpful, enthusiastic. I wasn’t interested that way, not really, but I wondered if I ever would be. So I made the grave mistake of taking a safe option. Nothing changed, I wasn’t really attracted to her and it fizzled out, but she still holds out on the hope of more I think.”

He saw her face pale, and again he felt a strong need to protect her, and make things right. “I may have led her on, but it wasn’t malicious, I promise. I apologise to her all the time, but it doesn’t make me feel any better about things.”

She shrugged, “the past is the past, it’s just I saw the two of you, close...I was coming to apologise a few weeks ago.”

                “And that’s the first thing you saw,” with a sigh he looked up to the ceiling for a moment then back to her. “I feel differently about you Isobel, you occupy my every thought. You are under my skin and I’m not too proud to admit that. I want to spend every minute of every day with you. But I know it has to be on your terms, whilst there‘s a barrier between us it can‘t go anywhere. I get all that, but I want it, more...I want you.”

She broke out of his arms, and headed to one of the sofas, slumping onto it.

The barriers she’d erected were ones to protect her, not only did she not speak about her past, she didn’t think about it, with another sigh, she looked up at him, still stood at the window, “It’s not a nice story, I’m not ashamed, and I wouldn’t change the outcome but I do live with regret.” Standing again she paced for a while trying to formulate the words. “I was devastated after losing my mother, but I knew she’d want me to go on to Uni. So I did.”

She told him about her settling in, the financial difficulties.

                “It was then that Helen suggested I try out in her work. She worked in a bar called Charades; I don’t know if you know it?”

He thought for a moment, then gave her a strange look, “the Burlesque place?”

She nodded, “it’s not sleazy or slutty, it’s provocative, suggestive…”

                “We took clients there a few years back; it was great, full of women watching too! It was all about what you didn’t see as oppose to what you did. I loved it there.”

She was so glad that he understood, some people were so judgemental, “that’s right...so I tried out and got a job!”

His jaw dropped, “I thought you were going to say you worked the bar there…but you actually danced?” When she nodded he added, “That is fantastic! What a great story to tell Taylor! I wish I’d been there to see that. I bet you were amazing!”

Again he was right, so she carried on her story, how she became a success, then meeting Richard. How she looked up to him, was flattered by his lifestyle, and most of all the way he domineered her, whisking her out for meals, buying her clothes, flowers, perfume.

                “He was so much better than me, he mixed in high circles, had a good job in the City. We’d been seeing each other about six months when I found out I was pregnant. He worked a lot, so it was a couple of weeks till I had the opportunity to tell him. We went out for dinner and over dessert I blurted out ‘I’m pregnant!’

Marc hated the pain that crossed her face, before he knew the details he wanted to kill anyone who’d hurt her like they had. Instead of shouting out he kept quiet, just watching, listening.

                “He went white and dragged me outside, there he told me in no uncertain terms that I had to get rid of it, the or else was there, but remained unsaid. After a few days I thought maybe he’d have calmed down, so I found his address from the telephone directory and headed there. A woman answered the door and I asked for him, she said he was in work, but she was his wife and could she help. I shook my head and staggered away. I resigned from the club, jacked in college and came home to here, the same day.”

His arm had slid around her shoulder at some point during the story, and now he pulled her gently towards him, whispering “not everyone is like that Iz, you are the innocent here, unfortunately there are pigs out there who manipulate and use. Don’t judge everyone by his standards.”

                “The worst thing is that he looked on me as some slut he COULD use, I was his bit of rough, and I’m not like that Marc!” She stared earnestly up into his eyes desperately seeking approval. “I really thought he loved me.”

He groaned, cupping his face in his hands, “you are a beautiful and classy woman Isobel, and don’t you ever forget that!”

With that he planted his lips on hers, and the passion was instant and explosive, it was so long since a man had kissed her that she was stunned, she had no memory of it ever being like this. She could barely breathe; barely feel anything other than the parts of her that touched him. Her heart was pounding in her head, and with an increase in her confidence, her desire, sensations that had been dormant in her for so long, she reached out to touch him, running her hands over his chest, lifting the, to settle around his neck, pressing her body up against him, all the while their mouths biting, tongues searching. As she snatched at his shirt, gripping it in her hands, his own hands were under her top and as they settled on her breasts, he whispered in a hoarse voice, “you are one foxy lady!”

It was the kind of comment that Richard would’ve made and he’d never meant anything complimentary, she instantly froze, she didn’t want Marc to see her in the same way. It immediately brought out every insecurity that she’d experienced. Her sexual naivety, her emotional fragility, all came to the surface and she felt as though her legs were collapsing from under her. 

Stepping back she pulled her clothes into place, tried to look respectable, mumbling a “sorry.”

Marc had never seen anyone look so scared, fighting his own fear that she’d bolt, that he’d blown this, he grabbed her hand and tugged her back into his arms, “I am not him, and I don’t mean anything other than you are hot, you turn me on more than I ever thought...a foxy lady is DEFINITELY a good thing”

                “We were half naked in a window.”

He shrugged and smiled, “we got a little carried away. It happens, but it does not say anything about us or you, ok?” She wasn’t looking any happier so he smiled, swooping down to brush his lips to hers, “look let’s head back home, I’m not pressuring you here and now. I have patience...and a well used shower that has an ice cold setting!”

With a new level of relaxation they tidied up the remains of the food, and rearranged the furniture as it was when they arrived. The silence on the drive home was companionable and not at all awkward. Outside the house he leaned across and kissed her like she’d never been kissed before, tender, soft, the most gentle contact, and all of a sudden she wanted to drag him into her house, she hated that she was sending him mixed messages, but what she wanted and what she thought were right were two very different things.

                “Oh no!” he announced sensing the change in mood, “when something more happens it will be deliberate, and planned, and the best thing you’ve ever had.” Her body throbbed at the thought as she watched him drive off.

Life dictated that both were very busy the following few weeks, and they barely had time when they were both in the same place, but Marc was nothing if not persistent, and he managed to arrange several low key dates. Each time purposely keeping his distance, yet flattering her and spoiling her with fine food, wine and gifts. After their fifth date, a Monday night trip to the cinema, he pulled up outside her home and leaned close, her heart raced anticipating a repeat of the kiss that had taken her breath away after their evening on the boat. Something he hadn’t done since.

                “I’m taking you away next weekend,” his lips were close to her ear, “for at least one night. You have five days to find a sitter, so make sure you get it organised. I’ll take you out for dinner, and we’ll stay away, true time to ourselves without the kids, without work, without hassle. Ok?”

She found herself nodding with trepidation, but her knees were weak as she tried to climb out of the car, and she knew that was due to longing, desire, and so did he. Chuckling, he drove off.

The next morning, she called Orla who said she’d come over, Isobel was desperate for advice. As she was explaining the intricacies of the night before and Marc’s suggestions for the following weekend a courier appeared at the door to the cafe carrying a large parcel into the shop.

                “Miss Mullins?”

She nodded, “that’s me.”

With a smile he handed her the box, and Orla giggled as the man left. With a sigh Isobel ripped open the paper, and lifted the lid, inside was a selection of high quality body lotions, bath soaps and hair products, all nestled in shredded paper that smelled of lavender.

                “Is there a note?” Orla was excited.

Isobel searched the box until she found an envelope, ripping it open she gasped.

                “What does it say?” Orla was rushing around the counter as she spoke.

Shaking her head, she read the card aloud in a shaky voice,

“I’m counting down to Saturday and I’m going to mark every day with an appropriate gift. I want you to spend at least an hour using all this before I pick you up on the weekend so you feel as special as you are when I finally arrive! Mxxx”

Orla was stood there open mouthed, “Wow, what a romantic!”

Flushed, partly aroused and desperate to see him again, she was unable to contemplate a response.

                “I think you should go for it!” Orla eventually answered. “I can’t quite believe how sexy this all is!”

Isobel could only nod in agreement, she was struggling to formulate anything resembling common sense, but the main thing was that Orla agreed to have Taylor for the day...and night that coming weekend.

The next morning another parcel came, this time six large sunflowers in a beautiful glass jar, the message said,

                ‘I’m away until Friday, but you occupy my every thought! Everyday closer is a day nearer to seeing you. Mxxx’

The following day brought CD’s they had discussed one evening over dinner. Each one accompanied by an equally seductive note, describing the relevance of each one to their budding relationship. Each word overwhelmed Isobel and she was struggling to focus on anything but Marc and what he had planned.

By Friday she could hardly control herself, she was so excited. But work was really busy, she was leaving Michael in charge so she had to organise the orders for the following week, and deal with new suppliers, plus she was advertising for casual staff. It wasn’t until the end of the day that she realised that there was no delivery and her disappointment at that was huge, she didn’t appreciate until that morning how anxious and apprehensive she really was. With head hanging she made the trip to school, where Taylor emerged with arms full of paintings she’d created lovingly and artistically for her mother. As they headed out of the gates, she became aware of a noise, and turning around she saw Lucas and Sophie shrieking as Marc chased them to the car. He stopped when he saw her and stared for a long moment, before they both turned back to their charges, Isobel could only wonder if the moment had affected him as much as it had her.

She hadn’t got back to the house with a skipping Taylor when her phone beeped and the message read, ‘I so needed to see you then. Can’t wait till tomorrow, I’ll pick you up at seven. Be ready.’

Her body surged with desire, with hunger. She feared if he kissed her the following day that she’d explode on the spot.

Isobel was in the middle of cooking dinner when there was a knock at the door. She was shocked to find a courier on the doorstep at that time of the evening, and then the adrenaline surged as she saw the large, slim box he held. She signed for it before taking it back into the house. As Taylor sat down to Shepherd’s Pie and peas, Isobel took the box into the kitchen and pulled at the pink ribbon holding it closed. Lifting the lid she searched through the layers of tissue, and then gasped. Nestling in the box was some of the most beautiful lingerie she’d ever seen, the palest pink fitted bodice, with the thinnest straps, and a pair of lace trimmed knickers to match. The size was spot on, he would get it right. He was an infuriating man, successful at everything it seemed.

There was no message with the gift this time, and none was really needed, over the last week he’d definitely staked his intentions!

He text her later when Taylor had gone to bed, “I bet you thought I’d forgotten! Quite the opposite, I can’t get you out of my head– until tomorrow, xx”

Talk about upping the ante! It was an early but sleepless night…..alone.