Part Nine

Isobel took Taylor shopping Saturday morning, anything to take her mind off the evening. They bought toys, clothes and even went for a pizza, dragging the day out as long as possible. By the time she dropped her daughter off at Orla’s and had the pep talk about the impending night, she felt exhausted and anything but ready for a night with a dangerous man.

She did however, follow his instructions, soaking in the bath, she exfoliated, epilated and scrubbed, then swathed herself in the scented moisturiser. In the mirror Isobel dried her hair, packed a small bag with the minimum she’d need for a night away, and applied a small amount of makeup.

It felt almost sinful to put on the underwear he’d sent her, but she did, then covered it with slinky black trousers and a white asymmetrical top that was slashed across one shoulder, and loose, billowy around her hips, coupled with heels, she felt more glamorous than she had for a long time.

The door bell rang and she immediately swallowed a knot of emotion, fought off the nausea and moved through the house. As she opened the door to him, he stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, his eyes both covering her body, and staring deep into her own all at the same time.

                “You look stunning,” it was barely more than a whisper as he reached down to brush his lips against hers. At the same time, he ran a hand along the waist band of her trousers seeking the sheer lace of the lingerie he’d bought her. His groan was almost animal, “so you wore it?”

She gave her best coy look, “I’m not going to say I was bullied into it!”

He threw his head back for a moment, dealing with the conflicting emotions at the thought of her. “Have you got a bag?”

She nodded and pointed towards a large handbag.

Marc stared at her with a frown, “that’s it?”

Nodding she picked it up, “clean undies, and a tooth brush…do you need anything else?”

He laughed, “no you don’t, but it’s unusual to see…Sadie would take a suitcase to the supermarket, just in case!!”

                “She was probably a lot more glamorous than me!” Isobel offered.

Marc denied that fervently, “no, she thought she was, but you are far more traffic stopping than she could ever be.”

Isobel appreciated the sentiment, but knew that he was just flattering her, “I doubt that very much.”

He shrugged, “you are naturally beautiful Iz, you don’t have to try.” He leaned in close, “though I’ve told you in the past that I’d love to see you in something that clings rather than hides. You always hideaway under loose things, I kind of get it, if I could get my hands on that prick...” He rolled his eyes, “if it takes me ten years I’m going to make you realise how gorgeous you are.”

His breath on her neck was an erotic sensation, and she inhaled his smell, a subtle sandalwood aftershave, “well it’s top of the class for flattery Mr Banfield!”

He smiled as he took her hand and led her out to the car.

Then they drove listening to music, her head lolled against the head rest, trying not to notice the effect his hand resting on her thigh was having on her. After half an hour before he pulled into a long regal looking driveway, with gargoyle-clad gateposts and a sweeping gravel route to the house hidden amongst the trees in the distance.

As he turned off the engine they were met by a valet who drove the car around the side of the house to the garages.

Marc took their bags and led her into the opulent foyer.

                “Marc Banfield,” he announced to the receptionist.

The uniformed woman glanced at the computer in front of her,                “I’m sorry but the room you reserved isn’t available, we’ve been double booked. We’ve only got two suites left!”

Marc looked at Isobel, “that’s a shame!” he raised his eyebrow in irony. He signed the appropriate forms, then the receptionist directed them to the suite.

“Wow!” Isobel announced entering the room before him, “this is fantastic!”

The room had a large plasma TV on one wall, and two huge leather sofas in front of floor to ceiling windows offering spectacular views of the lavishly landscaped gardens. To the right was a separate office area with a small dining table and to the left, through an arch, was the largest four poster bed she’d ever seen, decorated with gold and red drapes and covers.

                “This is stunning Marc!”

He laughed, “I wish I could say I planned this, but I only had a standard room organised.”

She shrugged, “judging by the rest of the hotel even a standard room would be out of this world!”

                “Well I was recommended this place by several people!”

As he placed their bags on the sofa, she went off exploring.

                “God Marc this place is to die for!” she shouted from the bathroom. “You could have a party in the shower cubicle alone!”

He laughed to himself at her enthusiasm and appreciation of everything she saw, he remembered back to trips with Sadie where nothing had ever been good enough. He was beginning to realise that Isobel Mullins was the injection his life really needed.

                “Shall we go and get dinner?” he asked when she emerged from the bathroom her eyes wide with awe.

She nodded, “can we eat here? It’s not just a hotel?”

Shaking his head he smiled, “the restaurant has a couple of Michelin stars.”

                “Oh!” she looked nervous. “I hope I’m not like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.”

                “Ha ha! Don’t think like that. It’ll be fine, it’s just a restaurant like any other,” he added, trying to conceal his amusement at her honest naivety and anxiety.

Marc offered his arm, and Isobel slid her hand into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead her out of the room. Everything about the hotel was decadent, the furnishings, the pictures, the plush carpets. It was harder than ever for Isobel to manage her heels when they sank into inch deep pile. They came down the stairs into the foyer, where Marc spoke to the maitre’d in the corner of the room. He directed them to the bar whilst their table was being prepared.

                “Wine?”

She nodded, “why not?” She was aware that she didn’t want to overdo it with the alcohol, that coupled with her adrenaline might mean she lost her head when she needed it more than anything.

He ordered a bottle of chardonnay and they sat at a table in the window overlooking the long driveway. Filling the glasses, he handed her one, “this is nice. The company not the wine, well the wine too…” He leaned back in the chair and looked across at her.

She took a steadying deep breath then scowled when he smiled at her obvious attempts to keep calm and in control, “I agree…on both counts actually. Other than a week or two in the summer, I’ve hardly been apart from Taylor; it seems so strange to be here without her.”

He could share that sentiment, kids took over your life, “she’ll be fine, and you know that Orla will call if there’s a problem.”

She nodded, “I have no qualms over leaving her with Orla, it’s just I feel quite guilty being here. Enjoying myself.”

Sparkling eyes stared at her as he asked, “so you are enjoying yourself then?”

                “So far!” she grinned.

He took a long drink from his glass, “me too. Though I do worry about telling the kids that we’re seeing each other.”

                “Do we have to tell them? And how hard will it be to keep things from them?”

                “We just have to make the most of the times we get together. All we can do. We can do things with the kids together too; I’ll just have to keep taking cold showers.” They’d both agreed on their second date that they didn’t want to involve the kids in this, if they were together longer term, if they both felt this is what they wanted, then they could decide then. Neither wanted to introduce something that might be temporary, it wasn’t healthy.

Their easy conversation was interrupted by the maitre’d who informed them their table was ready, then led them into the dining room. Much to Isobel’s distress each of the place settings had three sets of knives and forks. Marc chuckled as she looked at him in fear.

                “No one cares what cutlery you use. We’re guests here. Just relax.”

She gave him a wrinkle nosed scowl and snapped, “it’s ok for you to say that.”

They ordered extravagantly presented starters and mains, and ate slowly, talking about everything, the weather, the kids, their work. They both declined dessert, but ordered coffee, espresso for him, Americano for her.

Isobel couldn’t remember ever having such a nice evening, she was so relaxed in Marc’s company, he was genuinely interested in her life, and he was full of so much good advice on an array of topics. And she loved listening to him talk about his life, his mother’s home in France, his life in London and the renovations he was overseeing to the mansion in town.

                “Shall we go for a walk? It still early and the last thing we need is to sit here and get pissed,” he smiled. “And if we sit here all night that is exactly what will happen.”

Isobel nodded, “the gardens do look nice, and we’ve just been waxing lyrical about the unbelievably good weather. We should make the most of it.”

Marc stood and offered a hand, “we can go and watch the sunset!”

She smiled, “how perfect!”

They wandered outside, as they climbed down from the patio; they took a path through some trees, and emerged near a large boating lake. They strolled hand in hand along the wooded path. It was warm and they chatted easily about the upcoming summer as they walked.

                “Are you going away this summer?” she asked him after he told her about his last trip to Disney World with the children the previous Christmas.

He shrugged, “once school breaks up the children will go and stay with my mother in France for two or three weeks. It’ll give me chance to get things tied up in London; I am serious about cutting back, though I don’t know what I’m going to do with my time! They love it at Mum’s, so much freedom. I’ll try and get out there for a long weekend during that time. It’s been a stressful year, and I could do with a break…but it’s not that relaxing taking the two of them away on my own. So I don’t really know. What about you?” He directed them to a bench in the distance that looked away from the lake and gave an unexpected view of where the rolling Cotswold Hills separated to show a river winding through a lush, green valley. It was idyllic, and they were both silent for a moment, looking at the stunning view.

Eventually he nudged her for an answer, “well the same thing as you really. My Aunt Maria usually comes and stays for a few days, she then usually takes Taylor back with her for a few weeks, she loves staying on the farm with them, and its chance to see some family. I don’t get up there very much. I went to Spain with Orla and Tim last year; it was fun, but not the same when you’re on your own. I felt a bit like I was imposing on them, you know?”

He nodded in understanding, “I promised the kids a trip on a canal barge this year and after last years’ mammoth trip to Florida I think I’m getting off pretty lightly!”

She chuckled, “I haven’t mentioned holidays to Taylor as she does have high expectations. But I would love to do EuroDisney near Christmas. She’d love that.”

He turned to her, “what child or even adult for that much wouldn’t?”

                “Very true! But before then I’ve got a ton of things to do through work, that new council contract is starting to really kick off.” She sighed, “success doesn’t leave a lot of family time. But I have to thank you for kicking me into action.”

Grinning Marc slumped into the seat, his arms along the back of the bench, “it was there for the taking really, wasn’t it?”

She shrugged, “if things take off the way they seem to promise, the café will just be a subsidiary of the catering company.”

He nodded, “like I say before we came here, I did do market research, extensive market research.”

The sun was just beginning to set when it became suddenly dark. Looking behind her, she spotted a rather ominous looking sky approaching them rapidly.

                “Oh God! Where has that come from?”

He spun around following her gaze as a few large splashes of rain landed on them.

                “Shit! We’d better run!” He looked around then spotted a boat house in the distance. “Quick over there!”

She half ran, half was dragged in the most inappropriate shoes to the boat house, each foot sinking into the soft undergrowth, the rain getting heavier and heavier. The door was locked, but a heavy shoulder from Marc saw them burst into the small wooden shed.

They shook themselves dry, but as Isobel looked at Marc she saw a yearning look on his face, his eyes wide.

                “What?”

He shook his head, changed his focus, but it was too late, she looked down and saw her soaking wet white linen top plastered to her body and almost transparent, the sexy underwear he bought there for him to see.

Mortified she spun away from him trying to cover her modesty. Then arms embraced her from behind, wrapping around her and a voice whispered in her ear, “I knew you would be perfect.”

She hated that confidence, that presumption, but she was mesmerised by his hands, watching them slide up over her hips and stomach to settle just millimetres below her breasts, “I have dreamed about seeing and touching you for SO long!” His lips nuzzled at her neck, the hairs on her back were standing on end. She could feel her nipples harden as she was flooded by the sensations of both his hands and lips. She tried to cross her arms defensively across her body and was infuriated at the chuckled response into her neck.

                “You can try and hide all you like, but at the end of the day I KNOW you want this as much as me. I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want you, and though you fight it, I know if I pushed it’d happen here and now…”

He knew instantly he’d said the wrong thing, her body stiffened and she pushed away from his embrace.

                “Iz? All I was going to say was that I want to savour every moment in a luxurious bed. This is what we both want. Don’t push me away again.”

She wrapped her arms around herself trying to hide both her embarrassment and her obvious arousal. She knew that the way Richard had dismissed her out of his life had had a profound effect on her. The hour long verbal assault had left her lacking in far more than just confidence, it had shaped her life to date; she rarely wore anything that wasn’t unfitted or loose. She never again wanted the backlash of being accused of using her body to get what she wanted, and the treatment that that seemed to lead to.

                “Iz, I’m not letting you get away.”

She shook her head, “I’m not, it’s just I’m cold, it’s stopped raining I want to go back to the room….” she made for the door. And in a flash he was beside her.

                “Don’t be stupid! You’ll freeze.” He rummaged around in a trunk near the door, and found some old blankets; wrapping one around her he led her back along the lake to the hotel in an uncomfortable silence.