Master (18 page)

"Well, he did all the right things,” Anna said,
somewhat annoyed by the defensive tone she heard in her voice. "It's me.
I'm the one who cocked up."

"You don't have a cock, in any way at the moment. But
you don't half talk a load of bollocks. You can't cock up by yourself Anna, It
takes two. Here, eat this before I ruin it and then, Anna McCourt, you and I
are going to talk." He sliced the omelet he'd made into two and passed her
half, decorated with some perfectly cooked bacon. The tone of his voice sent
chills down her spine. At that moment, Anna realized there was a side to Athol
she didn't really know. But she wanted to.

Without a word, she began to eat.

****

An hour later she was sitting in the warm sunshine in a
deckchair in the garden. Dickens was fast asleep under her chair, tired out
from the exercise Athol had given him on the beach whilst Anna had washed up.
Athol sat opposite her, eyes closed; one ankle resting on his knee and looking
totally relaxed. Anna was envious. He looked ready to fall asleep, and she was
ready to fall apart. He opened one eye.

"So, why did you run?"

Well, that's going for the
jugular.

 
"I wasn't being
fair to
Cade
."

Athol opened both eyes and stared at her for so long Anna
began to fidget. This was an Athol she didn't know. He seemed detached, a
stranger who was only there as a professional, not a friend.

"Did he say so?"

Anna shook her head.

"Then how do you know?"

"I just did."
Gah
, now I sound like a sulky ten year old.

"No, you didn't. You presumed. Why did you presume
that, Anna? Was he cruel?
Uninterested?
Did he give
you a boring orgasm, and leave it there? Couldn't you get him off? Was every
fuck a pity fuck? Didn't he rock your boat anymore?"

He picked up the coffee jug he'd brought outside and poured
her a mug full. "Well?"

She shrugged. Athol picked up a large stone from the rockery
and threw it into the river.

"The man is crazy over you, but will you bloody believe
it? Will you, fuck? Shit, Anna he's even…" He stopped speaking and rolled
his shoulders. "God, what I'd give for someone to care for me like
that." His voice was bleak. "To worry so much he's threatening
castration and goodness knows what if he finds out someone isn't telling him
where you are and if you're okay. And you don't accept what a gift that is?
Woman, you're crazy. Believe it, Anna, he's yours."

The passion and the pain in Athol's voice surprised her.
Although she knew he was dominant, he'd always come cross as someone who just
took life as it came and rolled with the waves. Now she wasn't so sure. Was
there a special someone he was hurting over? It wasn't the time to ask.

Anna took a sip of coffee and burned her tongue. It served
her right for not waiting. She'd been putting off the moment to start talking.

"Oh shit. No, you're right. Yet again I blew it. Where
do we go from here?"

Athol picked up a notepad and a pencil from the ground and
handed them to her. Anna took them and stared at her hands. She was proud of
how steady they were. Athol's words made them shake.

"Well, now I guess that's up to you, Anna. Write down
ten things you loved about your life and ten things you hated. Then we can
begin. Take your time. I'm going to take Dickens for a walk and get a
newspaper. I might even bring chocolate back."

Anna watched his back as he sauntered away, the dog beside
him.
Bastard.
She turned the pencil over and over in her hands and bit her top lip. What he
wanted sounded unusual. Her phone signaled an incoming text. Anna looked at it
and rolled her eyes. The man was a mind reader.

'Everyone is different. This
is right for you. And don’t you let my mother hear what you've called me. I
arrived a straight nine months and three days after the wedding. Just do it or
give up.'

She laughed—she'd long thought he'd got supernatural
powers—opened the notebook and began to write. When Athol came back over an
hour later, Anna had made fresh coffee and was sitting stretched out in the
chair, her feet propped on his seat. He glanced at her face, and then she saw
his eyes flicker to the notebook on the wall next to her.

"Coffee in the pot, I made enough if you want
one." She moved her feet.

Athol poured some coffee into a mug and sat down. Dickens
went to his water bowl and began to lap noisily. As Athol stared at her over
the rim of his mug, Anna thought she now knew how a bug under a microscope
felt.
Naked and vulnerable.

"Well?" she asked when the silence had stretched
to unbearable and Dickens's steady lapping was getting on her nerves.

"Very, thank you." It seemed he wasn't going to
make it easy.

"Do you want to know what I've written or not?” Anna
could feel her temper bubbling up like a kettle coming to boil.

Athol didn't drop his calm demeanor. "Do you want me
to?"

"Oh suit yourself." Anna knew she was back to miss
sulky pre-teen and couldn't have cared less. It was that or have a full-blown
tantrum along with the coffee pot heaved over the wall into the river, which
was now lapping at the base.

The deliberation with which Athol placed his mug on the
ground should have warned her. He stood up and looked every inch the Dom. For
the first time Anna had
an inkling
what made him the
successful Dom and Master he was. And probably the successful doctor also.

"Anna, don't push me. I want to help you, by god I do.
But I'm a Dom first and foremost here. The doctor side knows some things, but
the Dom side knows others. That's what’s uppermost. And unless you want me to
take you inside and spank what I'm sure is a pretty pussy to those who swing
that way, I suggest you remember a few of the basic rules I'm damned sure
Master
Caden
taught you."

 
She dropped her mug
into the dog's water bowl. Dickens looked at her with reproach before he moved
to stretch out well out of the line of another wetting. Anna could feel the
heat rush to her face, and her fingers itched as she did her best not to put
her hands to her hot cheeks.

"Sorry, Sir."
The salutation slipped
out.
 

Athol nodded and sat down again. "Okay, but I think
we'll set some ground rules right now, Anna. Why did you ask about a
psychiatrist?"

She sighed. "Because I thought
he—or
she—
might get to the bottom of my nightmares."

"Anna, love, you don't need a psychiatrist. Not totally
anyway. Tell me honestly, will you trust me as a friend first, a Dom second,
and a shrink last? I warn you though; I'll open you up and wring you out. But
at the end of it all, you'll know what you want and how to get it. It might not
be what you hoped. Hell, you might not even chose to listen or take the way you
should, but that'll be your choice."

Anna turned his words over in her mind. She'd known he could
help or why else ask for it? She picked up her notebook and opened it.
"This is what I think."

"Read it out." His tone brooked no arguments.

She cleared her throat and took a deep breath.

"What I like…"

Chapter Fourteen

When it got to the point he was checking his emails every
hour,
Cade
knew he had to do something. Anna had only
been gone a few weeks, and he was convinced he'd driven every one of her
friends
crazy, to say nothing of alienating them. True to
her word, Anna had emailed twice each week, but a brief 'I'm fine' didn't hack
it for him. He'd extracted promises from her friends that they didn't know
where she was and they'd tell him if they heard from her. Not that he thought
they necessarily
would
tell him
unless it was an emergency. Although he applauded their loyalty, at the same
time he despaired of it.

He rubbed his hand over his chin. The stubble surprised him.
How on earth had it got to that length? It was more scruffy than designer.
Moodily, he opened his fridge door and looked at the contents. Three eggs, a
cold sausage, and some limp lettuce leaves didn't make for an awe-inspiring
view. He looked at the half full bottle of wine and sighed. Alcohol wasn't the
answer. Anna was, and that was too bad. She wasn't there, and she might never
be again. Somehow this leaving was so much worse than the last. Then it had
been a shock, but his love of his work had carried him through. This time he
couldn't dredge up any enthusiasm to supervise or tutor, let alone scene.
Cade
poured a glass of water and wandered into the lounge.
After flicking through the TV Channels, he admitted defeat. Contrary to what
he'd told Daisy, he needed company. He picked up his phone and pulled up her
number. She answered his call so promptly he wondered if she'd had her phone in
her hand.

"Hi, you decided to stop sulking and grow a pair?"
Her cheerful, non-judgmental voice gave him a boost of spirit.

Well, that's telling me then.
In spite of himself, he
laughed. "Guess so. Is the dinner invitation still on?"

"Yes, of course it is. As long as you accept Marco will
give you the third degree for upsetting me." She went silent for a moment.
"Because you have.
We needed to know you were all
right, not holed up in a cave or something. Get your sorry ass round here as
soon as, okay?"

"Yeah.
See you in an hour."
Cade
ended the call, happier than he had been since Anna
had left him. It was only when he'd showered and dried himself that he looked
in a mirror. Daisy wasn't far wrong about the cave. His hair needed cutting,
and he definitely needed a shave. He didn't have time to do justice to either,
so he contented himself with trimming his new beard—who would have thought it
would grow in red—and tying his hair back in a braid. He found a pair of clean
jeans that he realized Anna had washed before she left, and held them to his
face. He smiled wryly as he realized he was sniffing them to see if they
carried her scent. They didn't. He pulled them over his legs and zipped them up
before dragging a black t-shirt over his head.

After a long search he found his car and house keys in the
linen basket where they must have fallen out of his worn jeans when he'd thrown
them in. His wallet was easier. It was in the fridge.
Cade
shook his head as he exited the house. What next? His ropes used as the washing
line?

****

Daisy was waiting for him as he parked his car on her drive.
She stared at him intently for a long minute before she burst into tears and
pulled him close for a tight hug. "You bastard, don't you ever,
ever
pull a stunt like this again, you
hear me? Marco has had a hell of a time with me, and my ass is so sore I can
hardly sit down. You scared me. You didn’t answer your phone or texts or emails
except for those bloody words … have you heard? I told you I'd tell you if I
hear anything, and I haven't. Okay?"

Cade
swallowed hard. Her obvious
distress upset him. He hadn't thought just how his anti-social behavior would
upset other people.

"Daisy, hush now."
He stroked her hair in the
same manner as he would soothe a sub. She sniffed a few times and took the
hankie he'd taken out of his pocket and offered to her and blew her nose.

"Sorry, but oh god, how I've
worried.
Marco has been pissed with me big time."

"No," a deep voice said from behind her.
"Marco has been worried about you and pissed with him. Hi,
Caden
, thank fuck you've decided to return to the land of
the living. I was thinking I was going to have to haul your sorry ass over here
and teach you to be a Dom again."

Cade
laughed. He'd taught Marco
everything he knew.

"Yeah right, that'll be the day.
So
you going to feed me?
I'm ready to slay the dragons and win the fair
lady again."
If the fair lady ever
wants winning.

Marco slapped his back. "Unhand my sub, Master
Caden
." He winked.
"Unless you
want to do a little double-handed work?"

Daisy squealed and wagged her finger at them as she preceded
them into the house.

"No thank you, Sirs. We need to plot and plan, not plot
and play."

True enough. I have no idea
how though.

****

"Daisy, that was great."
Cade
sat back in his chair and sighed in satisfaction. It was the first proper meal—
no,
scratch
that,
the first meal period—
since Anna had left.

"Good, ‘
cause
once we've had
coffee in the lounge, Sir wants to talk to you."

Cade
blinked at her abrupt change
of terminology. During the meal she had called Marco by his given name, and
there had been no formality involved. He knew they didn't live the lifestyle
24/7, and
Cade
was sure he hadn't lost his edge to
the extent he would have missed any signals given.