Forgotten Love (Derrien Island Trilogy)
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Authors: Simmone Thorpe
Forgotten Love
by
Simmone Thorpe
Derrien Island Trilogy
Book 1
Forgotten
Love
Text Copyright © 201
3 Simmone Thorpe
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Please note that this novel contains material suitable for mature audiences, 18 years and older.
CAN
A HEART TRULY FORGET THE ONE IT LOVES?
L
ike a dying woman, feeling trapped in a life she no longer recognized, Natasha Nicholls believed that if she didn’t escape, she would go crazy or simply give up her will to go on. Losing her lifelong dream of becoming a singer and an artist due to an unplanned pregnancy and a rushed marriage slowly plunged her into a life of unrelenting depression and regret that eroded the intimate relationship she once shared with her husband Marcus.
It d
idn’t help one bit that he’s now a successful international best-selling author and restaurant owner with a life marked by success and recognition while hers continues to be a repeating cycle of defeat and frustration.
W
hen the opportunity to reclaim her dream is offered to her once again, she must choose between her marriage and her heart’s deepest desires. She must choose what she is willing to leave behind and the cost she is willing to pay.
Can a
story of forgotten love that bears the marks of bitter disappointment become a story of passionate love and desire once again?
Unrelenting disappointment leaves you heartsick, but a sudden good break can turn life around.
The Message
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
March
17
th
8:47 p.m.
Love
was such an incredible farce, and the cruellest joke anyone could endure, thought Marcus Nicholls bitterly, wishing he could be anywhere else at that moment; anywhere else but in this wretched SUV.
W
ith her.
But not
even that futile wish and the bleak knowing that he was lying to himself, could change the obvious fact staring him coldly in the face tonight. She just didn’t love him anymore.
Angered by the very thoughts that filled and tormented his mind; Marcus increased the pressure of his foot on the accelerator of his Land Rover. Gaining speed, it neatly hugged the winding curvature of the road leading up the hillside county of Manderley, to the home he once lovingly shared with his wife Natasha.
She had actually become quite good at this
fake public routine, he thought, pretending that all was well with her, while keeping him at a cold arm’s length. The casual observer would probably be fooled into thinking they were the picture of marital success, but would miss the fact that lately it was all just a show. When they were finally alone, it could not be clearer to him that this marriage was in trouble because she treated him as though he just wasn’t there, like a damned stranger. What had happened to the delightful conversations, and the passionate kisses that drove him to the point of distraction and which made it impossible for him to work or to have a clear thought after they made love? Heck, when last had they even done that?
T
he silence inside of the car felt like a heavy blanket weighing down the atmosphere and despite the sleek black leather seats, and the latest in technology that graced its’ interior, it felt like a suffocating tomb without the option of escape. The silence would not have been so bad had he not been forced to leave the anniversary wedding ceremony with a bouquet of tiger lilies, a symbol of love and commitment, thrown from the hands of Courtney Belham into the hands of his wife Natasha.
Now
, as the fragrant flowers filled the interior of the car with their heady scents, it was impossible to forget that he was a man living in his own personal hell of unrequited passion and love, a man on the edge of sanity.
Every
time he inhaled their gentle fragrance it seemed that they were somehow mocking him, chiding his failures, and scoffing at his shell of a marriage. He was tired of living a lie; the lie that what they had between them was still there and that all was well. He was tired of putting on a show because Natasha was a reverend’s daughter and she had to keep up appearances. He was just plain tired!
“Are you just going to pretend
you didn’t hear me ask you a question just now, Nat? Have things really become that bad between us?” Marcus asked, with a harsh edge to his voice, glancing briefly at his wife before returning his eyes to the steep road ahead. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and took a slow deep breath but that was the only visible indication that she had even heard him speak.
Ten minutes earlier
, he should have thought twice about even considering asking her anything at all, but the truth was, he still wanted to know why she even bothered to catch the bouquet. Why didn’t she just stand near the back and let the other ladies fight over it. If she knew that it would mean nothing to her at all, why bother, why raise his hopes that she actually felt something for him still?
He remembered
with gritted teeth the flash of heat and desire that had exploded from his heart and moved throughout his entire body when he saw her catch it and smile as the other ladies congratulated her. God, he missed seeing her smile and laugh, missed how good she felt pressed closely against his body as they made love, missed hearing her sing to him. She had the most beautiful voice, sensual fragrance and the most delicious tasting lips. Just thinking about how she looked with her hair tousled around her face after they made love always drove him to the brink of insanity with desire for her. He missed the feel of her body curving into his at night and having her embrace him from behind as they stood in the shower. He was losing his wife and he had no idea why!
So when she caught the bouquet
, he actually thought it might be a sign that Natasha was finally ready to let him back in. But, that futile fantasy evaporated really quickly once they got back to the SUV as Natasha carelessly threw the flowers onto the back seat and every trace of the smile disappeared from her eyes.
Marcus
briefly looked at the profile of his wife once again noticing her effortless beauty and the way her long feathered earrings brushed the slender curve of her neck. She had always been a free spirit, someone who could always make him happy, but he didn’t seem to know how to reach her anymore.
As they reached the top of the hill, Marcus drove a few more blocks before turning into the driveway of their
sprawling 3500 sq. ft two-storey home. Nestled in the northern mountain ranges on Derrien Island,
Azure Lodge
proudly sat at on two acres of land left to Marcus by his parents when they died about eight years earlier. Most people seeing the estate marvelled at the unusual architecture and lush expansive gardens and stopped to take their portraits using it as a luxurious backdrop.
It had even been the cover feature in the Caribbean Luxury Homes digest
last year. The building itself was stark white, in sharp contrast to the surrounding greenery with occasional splashes of red Hibiscuses and purple bougainvilleas. Instead of the colonial design that most houses on the island featured, this ultra-modern house with its sharp angles and flat roof revealed his creative imagination and Natasha’s decorative and artistic flair for using light to make every room appear peaceful and inviting. Large two storey glass walls, let in an abundance of light and air into the house and those alone caught the attention of everyone who had the pleasure of visiting them here. They used to spend time welcoming the sunrise in meditation together in what they liked to call the sunrise gallery, but as time passed even that practice faded away.
The solar lights were now activated in the garden, illuminating the path leading to the house with a warm golden glow. But appearances were often deceiving, thought Marcus. A beautiful home did not mean that the owners had an equally beautiful relationship inside. At least not lately!
As a citiz
en of the United States he hadn’t been born on the island but visited periodically as a young boy when his family took yearly vacations to the Caribbean. There was something so enchanting about the beauty of Derrien Island that even after his childhood was long over, he often opted to spend holidays here or on neighbouring Caribbean islands like Grenada, St. Lucia and Barbados. But of them all, Derrien Island became rooted in his heart the most because of the special memories he had created here with his family. Although the entire island was smaller than most major US cities and offered less in terms of the modern forms of entertainment he was used to, it more than made up for it by being covered in a myriad of hiking trails that wound through lush green vegetation, white sandy beaches, secluded coves, and scenic panoramas on top of many of the hills.
In fact, those were the main reasons why his parents purchased this lot in Manderley many years ago. The slower pace of life, the constant sunshine, and the delicious, spicy island cuisine only deepened his love for the island and its’ culture. He swore to himself that when he finished his degree at university, he would relocate here and pursue his dream of becoming a restaurant owner and dabble in his writing to eventually become an international bestselling author.
T
his island provided the perfect creative setting and it was a true haven in paradise away from the hustle and bustle of New York City where he grew up. The view from their home allowed an almost 180
o
view of the surrounding rural countryside downhill and the capital city of Clearwater in the distance. It was another reason why many of the walls facing the landscape were also made of glass. The cliff offered them privacy as a couple, while they enjoyed an unobstructed view of the romantic and breathtaking sunsets outside. When the house was first built, he and Natasha had often snuggled on the sofa in their living area sipping on wine, talking intimately at the end of a long day. They always had some story to share or joke to tell each other. She was his best friend and his lover and he was all hers. It was pure bliss and he missed those times more and more every day.
