Rich Promise (15 page)

I turn my face toward the voice, see him picking up his gloves and helmet from the desk Nathan usually uses. He’s leaving. I flatten my hands on the desk and push myself upright. It’s not easy, I hurt everywhere. But—he’s going, leaving me. Dan’s walking out on me, disillusioned, disappointed in me. I can’t bear it.

“Please don’t go. Please, I’m sorry, can’t you forgive me?”

“Forgive what? I have no idea what’s happening. No idea at all what I’m supposed to forgive, because you refuse to tell me. I’m imagining all sorts and coming up with nothing that makes sense. I wish you well, Summer, I genuinely do. Your job here is safe, I think you know that. But I don’t see how we can…” He stops, apparently all out of words. He starts for the door. “I’ll just say goodbye to my brother. Take care, Summer.”

He leaves, his footsteps echoing along the short hallway as he heads toward the kitchen. Away from me. And in that moment I know I can’t let this happen. Whatever the cost to me, to my pride, I have to stop him. I hurl myself across the room and into the hallway after him, just as he reaches the kitchen.

“They’re in care,” I scream the words across the space between us.

Dan turns, looks back at me, incredulous. Nathan appears too, framed in the kitchen doorway. I take in two bemused Dom expressions as I lean back on the wall, only to crumple. I slide down the wall as my legs give way at last, my face in my hands as I sob.

Chapter Eight

“Here, drink this. And swallow these.”

I glance up at Nathan who is holding a glass of water in one hand and two white tablets in the other.

“Paracetamol. Usually helps. We have plenty of arnica too. I think I mentioned that already…” His grin is roguish as he turns to Dan. “Do you want me to leave?”

I take the water and pills and down them in one.

“Would you mind? Summer and I have a lot to talk about. The cream might be good, though, before you make yourself scarce.” Dan seems to appreciate Nathan’s offer of privacy. His fingers tangle in my hair as he brushes it from my tear-stained face.

I hand the glass and remaining water back to Nathan, who leaves the room. I settle myself across Dan’s lap, relishing the slight scratchiness of rough denim against my cheek.

Dan scooped me up from the hallway floor and brought me in here, into Nathan’s comfortable lounge. He laid me on the sofa, on my side, then lifted my shoulders to slide himself under me. I’m lying now with my head in his lap, wondering what the hell comes next.

Nathan comes back in, a tube of anti-inflammatory cream in one hand and the discarded quirt in the other. He tosses both onto the low table in front of the sofa. “Yours, I think. I’ll be in the office if you need me.”

The sight of the hated quirt unnerves me, even though I’m fairly sure Dan won’t be using it on me again. At least, not today. I peer up at him through my tears, uncertain of anything anymore.

Nathan breaks the deadlock. “I have work to be getting on with. Eva won’t be back for hours and Grace is taking Rosie to the cinema straight from school. You won’t be disturbed.”

Dan simply nods his thanks as his brother leaves us, then he reaches for the ointment.

“Lift your skirt, Summer.”

“It doesn’t hurt, not really…” I feel self-conscious now about allowing him to see me, to lay his hands on me, even in gentle ministration.

“Liar. Skirt, now.” Dan’s voice is still low, not his stern Dom tone from a few minutes ago, and a little of the usual warmth is back. Even so, I raise my skirt reluctantly. I do it, though. Obeying Dan is a habit that is by now closely ingrained.

He lays his fingers lightly across my smarting bottom, tracing the welts left by the vile quirt. Christ, that instrument is cruel, quite vicious. I hiss in pain, wincing.

“Not sore? Hold still while I spread some of this on.” He squeezes some of the cream onto his hands and starts to spread it carefully across my sore buttocks.

I wriggle as the pressure sets my tender skin aflame again.

“Ouch.” I’m trying to contain myself, but the fractured whimper escapes before I can bite it back.

“Ten strokes isn’t too bad. Quite a mild punishment really, given that you were missing all day and still refusing to offer any explanation. But as I said, I’m not going to beat the truth out of you.”

“I know,” I respond in a whisper, not at all sure why he didn’t. And whether he might still. “Why not? You could have.”

“No, I couldn’t. That’s not how this works. And anyway, what would be the point of that? I want willing submission, and nothing less is of any interest to me. If I had to thrash you until eventually you could bear no more, or until you safe worded, what would be the point? You’d be hurt, beaten, terrified of me, and I’d still not have your trust. If I hurt you that much, always knowing that I might still leave you anyway, that would be plain cruel. Not my style.”

My heart lurches. He
is
leaving me anyway. Even now, when he seemed to be softening, treating me kindly, he’s still saying he’ll leave me.
Oh God, oh no…
I start to sob again.

“Don’t go. Please don’t go.”

“Tell me then.”

I cover my face with my hands. I can’t bear to look at him, to see the reproach in his eyes. If—when—I tell him the truth, he’ll probably dump me. Who wants a misfit like me, from my sort of background, with my sort of past? And despite all the promises I’ve received my job might be next. Then my home. Can I trust Dan? Can I trust Nathan? Ashley? None of them really know me, none of them know about me.

I have no alternative, though, nothing realistic anyway. It’s either this, come clean and hope they can accept me, or return to the chaotic existence I’ve scrambled free of. I lie still as Dan works the cream into the stripes at the tops of my thighs, then roll onto my front when he asks me to so that he can reach more easily. I’ve given up any resistance. Totally compliant now.

“Will you be needing the quirt again?” My voice is a low, fearful murmur. The ten strokes he administered in the office were my punishment for lying. I’m about to confess to more lies, so by the same logic he won’t be done with whipping me yet. Somehow, though, it seems easier to ask, and to know for certain what’s in store.

“Possibly. That depends what you tell me. Shall we start with this business about someone being in care? I’m assuming you meant Maisie and Lucy. Is that right?”

His palm is resting on my bottom, no longer massaging me but the warm, smarting of my abused skin is sufficient reminder that, on balance, it pays when dealing with Doms to be honest. And forthcoming. I take a deep breath, and start.

“Yes. They’re with foster parents. In Barrow.”

“I see. And you found this out when? Saturday?”

“No, I didn’t see them on Saturday. The house was locked up, empty.”

“Ah.” He says no more, but I can all but hear the cogs whirring, the account racking up. I lied to him about that too, told him I’d seen my mum at least, that we’d argued. I continue with my explanation.

“I spoke to a neighbor. She invited me in for tea, and told me what she knew. Social workers and the police came a few weeks ago. They took Lucy and Maisie away.”

“Something had happened? What about your mum?”

I drag in a deep breath before dropping the next bombshell. “She was arrested. She’s in prison. And likely to stay there, I understand—for a while at least.”

To his credit, Dan’s rhythmic caress never falters. “Why? What’s she done?”

“She’s been involved with bringing illegal immigrants into the country. I don’t know the details. And, they found drugs hidden in her house. She’s been charged with dealing too.”

“Sounds heavy. How long’s all this been going on for?”

“I have no idea. Saturday was the first I heard of it. Not that long, though, I mean, if she’d been drug dealing while I lived there, I’d have known. Surely.”

“I’d have thought so. And you say you didn’t have a clue?” He sounds unconvinced, as though seeking to catch me out—or establish to what extent I’ve been complicit in all this.

I knew it, knew he’d doubt my story. I have to convince him or there’s no point going on. I turn to look up at him, my gaze steady despite my tears.

“I swear to you. I knew nothing. I was never involved, and neither were Lucy or Maisie.” In truth, I never even discussed it with them yesterday, but I simply don’t believe even my mother would drag them into her shabby business. My voice breaks a little as I continue. “She wouldn’t have, couldn’t…”

“Okay, I believe you. So what happened after you spoke to the neighbor?”

“Nothing. At least, not to do with this. I came back to the animal park and found you.”

“And you told me you’d seen your mother. When all the time she was locked up somewhere. Another lie then?”

“Yes, Sir. I apologize, but I realize you’ll probably not want to leave it at that.” My glance flicks across to the quirt lying on the coffee table.

Dan sees, his lip quirks. “Ah, yes, I expect we’ll have plenty more scores to settle. I want to hear the rest of this first, though, then I’ll decide what further discipline would be useful. Please continue.”

“Mrs Kirk—our old next-door neighbor,” I clarify as his expression becomes puzzled. “Well, she had no idea where Maisie and Lucy were taken. She’d heard nothing since the day the social workers and police turned up. So I decided to go to the social services offices first thing Monday morning to find someone who could tell me. That’s in Carlisle. That’s where I was yesterday when you texted me.”

“Ah, right. And you texted back to tell me you were here, at Black Combe.”

“I didn’t say that exactly…”

“Summer.” His warning tone stops me. Evasion and half-truths are every bit as culpable as outright lies.

“I’m sorry, Sir. Yes. I lied again.”

He nods, the score ratchets up.

“I drove straight to Carlisle, and was at the council offices for when they opened at nine. I managed to get to speak to the social worker dealing with the case. Sally MacDonald. She’s very nice.”

“Well, that’s something I suppose. What did she have to say?”

“I told her I wanted to care for Lucy and Maisie, that they don’t need to be in a foster home. I thought, now that I have a job, a decent place to live…” My voice trails away. I fully appreciate the massive assumptions I’ve been making. Staying overnight from time to time is one thing, bringing two teenagers to live at Black Combe indefinitely is another matter completely.

“Does Nathan know this?” Dan too realizes it’s not entirely my choice.

“No. I was going to talk to him after I’d spoken to you. They won’t be a nuisance, I promise.”

“Oh, Summer, I think it’s safe to say they’ll be a nuisance. But I don’t suppose that’s going to stop you. When are they arriving then?

Now I hesitate. I’m going to have to tell him about the plague of social workers about to descend on his unsuspecting brother’s home. “Well, that’s the problem. Sally MacDonald seemed to think it was just a formality, that Lucy and Maisie will be able to come here. And that’s what they want too. But she has to do an inspection visit, make sure I’m telling the truth about having a flat and such like, I suppose.”

“Right, makes sense.”

“Friday. She’s coming on Friday. And she’s bringing Lucy and Maisie too, for their first visit.”

“I see, so…?”

“I-I was hoping, thinking, maybe I could arrange for her to visit and not bother anyone else. Show her my flat, let Lucy and Maisie see their new rooms, that sort of thing. I’d tell Nathan it was happening, of course, but I don’t want anyone else getting involved.” I’m adamant on that point. I want to manage this myself. I need to convince Sally MacDonald I’m a safe pair of hands. A fit guardian. “I’ve looked after them before, once when my mum went off to Benidorm. They stayed at Freya’s with us. Sally was all right about that, so…”

“So you reckon she’ll approve of your latest set up?”

That’s about the size of it. I turn a level gaze on him. “Yes. She has to.”

Dan nods. “No reason why not, I’d say. We’ll talk to Nathan soon.” He lifts a hand as I start to protest. “I know. I appreciate you want to do this alone. You seem to feel you have to. Independence is all well and good, Summer. Admirable in fact. But you’ll stand a better chance on Friday, and afterwards, with him on side. With all of us supporting you.”

I gaze at him, uncomprehending. “But, why…?”

“Why? Well because I love you. Nathan, because he likes you, but I daresay he’d do it for me if I pressed him. Eva and Grace? Well, they’re your friends. They’ll help you, just as Freya obviously did the last time. You only need to ask.”

“You love me? Still love me? But I thought… You said you were leaving me. I thought I’d lost you.”

“Me too, for a moment back then. You play a mean game of brinkmanship, little sub.”

“Game? This is no game. I thought, I really thought…”

He smiles, pulls me up against his chest to nuzzle my hair. “I know you did. And it was enough to spare your bottom much harsher treatment than you actually got. Which reminds me…” He pats my bum, a signal that there is indeed more to come. “So far you’ve earned another ten strokes, for Saturday. So, what happened after you spoke to Sally MacDonald?”

“You didn’t mean it? About leaving me? You just said that to scare me into telling you the truth?”

“I guess. Not nice tactics, but I was at a loss. The quirt is effective, but has its limitations. I certainly do.” He pauses, “So, after Sally?”

“Oh, right. She arranged with the foster parents for me to go see my sisters, but I had to wait until after they finished school. So I drove back to Barrow, where the foster home is, for half past three. I spent a couple of hours there, then I came back here. When I arrived, Nathan came over to my flat to tell me about Queenie and Freya. And he told me you’d been trying to contact me.”

“So you rang me, right?”

“Right, Sir.” I fall silent, not sure what more I can say. I’ve spilled the whole can of beans, and he seems not terribly affected by any of it. Certainly there’s been no attempt to dissuade me from taking on my sisters, no mention of his own inconvenience as my home is about to be filled with teenage girls. I have to check though. I’ll feel happier if every aspect has been aired, now that I’ve finally opened up.