Cadence of My Heart (5 page)

Marlee shakes her head, averting her eyes. “I don’t love anyone more than I love you.”

Kneeling, Cadence tugs the stuffed animals out of Marlee’s hands and tosses them to the floor, positioning herself on the very edge of the bed.

“So why won’t you look at me?” She coils her arms around Marlee’s neck, rocking her hips forward, pressing their bodies together. “You’re the reason I asked for lingerie. I thought if you saw me wearing something sexy, then you’d want me.”

“Want you?” Marlee eyes Cadence’s body tentatively, finding it hard to believe that the inexperienced teen actually understands the gravity of the words that are coming out of her mouth. “You have no idea how dangerously alluring you’re becoming.”

“Are you attracted to me, Marlee?”

She has a hopeful smirk on her face, her bottom lip pinched between her teeth. Dear god, she’s so drunk. Her pupils are dilated, looking like saucers in her gleaming chocolate irises.

“Oh, darling.” Marlee glides her hands around Cadence’s tiny waist, so certain that she won’t remember any of this in the morning. “Very.”

Cadence giggles happily, swaying her hips, rubbing herself onto Marlee.

Marlee takes a deep breath. “Now you must get into bed.” She pushes Cadence down onto the mattress, making her giggle again. “It’s definitely past your bedtime.”

“Will you lie with me?”

When she rolls onto her side, her breasts push together, forming a small ‘v’ of cleavage.

Marlee notices.

They’ve shared a bed together more times than either of them can count, ending so many nights with soft, warm cuddles.

Nevertheless, “I don’t think so, sweetheart.” Marlee pulls the covers over her. “Not tonight.”

She perches on the side of the bed and bends to kiss Cadence goodnight—on the cheek, as she always does—but this time, the alcohol makes Cadence brave. A second before Marlee’s lips make contact, she turns her head, pressing their lips together instead.

The peck lingers much longer than usual, until Marlee comes to her senses and pulls away from Cadence’s soft pink mouth.

“Goodnight, my darling.”

“Goodnight, my Marlee,” Cadence mumbles sleepily. “I’ve waited so long for this.”

“For what, love?”

No answer.

Cadence is already asleep.

Cadence is snoring when Marlee breezes into her bedroom and opens the drapes, morning sunlight streaming in. As a dazzling beam of light hits the bed and rouses Cadence, she grunts and covers her face with her pillow.

“Too early.” Her voice is muffled beneath the pillow. “Come back tomorrow.”

Marlee budges Cadence over and sits on the bed, reaching for her hand, kissing her fingers. “How’re you feeling?”

“My head hurts.”

“I’m not surprised.” Marlee peels the pillow away from her, releasing her makeup smudged face to the horrors of daylight.

“Is my father very angry?” Cadence squints, putting up a hand to shield her eyes from the sun’s frightful glare.

“I’m sure a sincere apology will go a long, long way.” Marlee squeezes her hand. “And I’ll explain that it was my fault. I’ll say you walked in on—”

“No,” Cadence doesn’t wait for her to finish. “I don’t want him to be cross with you as well. It’s okay that he thinks I ruined my debutante party deliberately. It doesn’t matter. I don’t want him to know that I … because you …” She has difficulty articulating herself.

“I didn’t mean to upset you last night, love.” Marlee bends forward and runs her fingers through Cadence’s tangled hair. “You shouldn’t have seen—”

“Were you shagging Rachel?”

In the face of a momentary flare of panic, Marlee attempts to take that question in her stride. Contemplating the answer she’s going to give, she leans across Cadence’s chest and tilts her head, blocking out the sun. If they’re going to have this conversation, they’re damn well going to have it while looking at one another properly, not squinting.

In the end, though, she can’t quite seem to find the right words. She nods slowly.

“Do you shag her a lot?” Cadence presses on.

Marlee indicates no with a sway of her head, although, technically, she supposes, the truth of that very much depends upon your definition of ‘a lot’. To her, several times a week isn’t really a lot, it’s just enough to take the edge off. Anyway, this doesn’t seem like a topic they should be discussing in any great detail.

As if reading her thoughts, Cadence asks her to clarify. “How often?”

“Only when I need—” Marlee stops herself. This is more than a sixteen-year-old girl in her care ought to hear. “Only sometimes,” she says instead.

Feeling a little confined, overheating slightly with Marlee draped over her, Cadence wriggles herself up a few inches, her bare shoulders and a glimpse of the black lacy bra she slept in rising above the top of the duvet.

Marlee hopes the inquisition is over, but then …

“Do you love her?”

This is getting more complicated by the minute, and Marlee doesn’t know whether or not she should lie. Matters of love and sex have rarely been discussed between them, except to say that the latter should always be accompanied by the former.

Trying to think of the best way to phrase her answer, she strokes Cadence’s cheek, her fingers making their way gradually lower. She stops first at Cadence’s chin, then her neck, then her shoulder. One of the bra straps has slipped down over her arm, and Marlee trails her hand down to meet it.

“Love can be a very complicated thing, Cady.” She hooks the wayward bra strap on the end of her forefinger. “It comes in lots of different forms.”

“Like what?” Cadence angles her shoulder up, indicating that it would be perfectly acceptable for the strap to come off altogether, should Marlee wish it.

“Well, there’s the kind of love I have for Rachel, which is that I love having sex with her.” Marlee slips the strap back onto Cadence’s shoulder, despite the unspoken offer. “And then there’s the kind of love I have for you, which is that I love everything about you.”

Cadence breaks into a smile. “Really?”

“Really.” Marlee gives her an Eskimo kiss.

“So you still want to go out with me?”

Marlee falters. Every functioning brain cell she still has left recognizes that now would be the perfect opportunity to put a stop to this. Tell her no. Tell her it was a mistake; a misunderstanding; a momentary slip of reason. The trouble is, looking down at her hopeful face, her trusting eyes, and her beautiful smile, Marlee can’t bring herself to disillusion or disappoint. Not only that, but—god help her—she doesn’t want to. She capitulates.

“Yes,” she says quietly, then adds a caveat. “Next time your parents are away.”

Somehow, that makes it sound a whole lot worse. It implies there’s something to hide, but where’s the mischief in dinner? They’ve gone out for dinner together before. What’s so different this time? Nothing, Marlee chooses to believe.

“Now get up and out of bed, else we’ll both be late for breakfast.” She slithers off the bed, pulling the duvet with her, quite proud of herself for handling Cadence’s questions in a way that required no untruths, misdirection, or sudden information dumps which might’ve caused her sixteen-year-old brain to overload.

She’s in such a good mood, she slaps Cadence’s ass playfully as the groggy teen stumbles across the bedroom, rubbing crusties out of her eyes. The action elicits a squeal, which, in turn, brings Marlee’s smile to a full-on grin. Damn, that was inappropriately flirtatious. She sucks her lower lip into her mouth, biting on it gently as she watches Cadence disappear into the bathroom.

Insanity, she reminds herself.

This is absolute insanity.

Humming a tune for no-one’s pleasure but her own, she selects and lays out Cadence’s clothes, from matching cotton underwear to what color scrunchie she’s going to use to tie her hair in a French braid. Today feels like a French braid day.

Upon arriving in the breakfast room twenty minutes later, with matching braids—as requested by Cadence—they’re greeted by two very somber Ashlocks. Apologies are exchanged all round: Cadence for acting out, stealing champagne, and getting shitfaced; Mister Ashlock for manhandling her out of the ballroom the way he did; and Missus Ashlock for not breastfeeding her as an infant, which is clearly the root of all this poor behavior.

Poor behavior? That’s a bit much, Marlee thinks. It’s practically a requirement for teens to help themselves to their parents’ alcohol and get shitfaced at least once before they come of age, and that’s been Cadence’s only real indiscretion of late. Yet despite that, the Ashlocks are, as ever, exceptionally hard on their only child. They’ve always been slow to congratulate her achievements, but quick to pick up on her faults, and Missus Ashlock is by far the worst of the two.

A dour woman in her early forties, with jet black hair tied in a bun, thin lips, and a sickly pallor, Missus Ashlock—who is actually the second Missus Ashlock, on account of the first one failing to produce any offspring—appears to be perennially on the brink of depression. She never seemed to want Cadence. As soon as the cord was cut, the sweet bundle of pink skin was ushered into the arms of a nanny.

As a heavy stillness descends on the room, Marlee slips off one of her high-heeled shoes and rubs her foot over Cadence’s calf, silently cheering her. It swells her heart to see Cadence’s adorable pink lips curl upwards as she smiles into her cereal bowl.

The silence is only broken by the crinkle of Mister Ashlock’s newspaper, and the rumple of Missus Ashlock’s over-starched skirt as she crosses and uncrosses her beanpole legs.

“So what fascinating adventures do the two of you have planned for today?” Missus Ashlock finally asks, purely for the sake of asking rather than out of any real interest to know what the response might be.

“Can we go horseback riding?” Cadence asks Marlee, not her mother.

Marlee has to consider that for less than a second before arriving at an answer. Staring at Cadence’s firm bum in skintight jodhpurs sounds like a perfect way to spend a few hours.

“We’ll take a picnic,” she suggests, building on the idea. “We’ll go all the way down to the south field, by the lake. It’s quiet there.”

Quiet? Why was it necessary for it to be quiet? Quiet is just another word for secluded. Why had she felt the need to add that? Good god, if she could open up her cranium, remove her brain, beat some sense into it, then put it back, she would. Feeling self-conscious, she disengages her fondling foot. As she does, Cadence lets out a muted whimper of disappointment.

Shit, this is too much.

Excusing herself, she gets up from the table.

“Where are you going?” Cadence almost chokes on her cereal.

“Finish your breakfast. I’ll get one of the stable hands to ready the horses.”

Marlee winks at Cadence, curtseys politely to the Ashlocks, and glides out of the breakfast room. She notifies the stable hand first, then instructs the cook to prepare a picnic, changes into riding clothes, and meets Cadence by the barns half an hour later.

Yep. Skintight jodhpurs, knee high leather boots, and a fitted riding jacket—the perfect combination. Cadence thinks so, too, enjoying the rare sight of Marlee in something other than one of her many nanny outfits. There’s only one horse waiting in the yard, though: Marlee’s.

“Where’s Bobo?” Cadence looks around, but doesn’t see him.

“He needs to be re-shoed, honey. Do you want to take out your mother’s horse? Or would you rather ride with me?”

Marlee’s horse is a fine stallion, more than capable of taking an extra hundred and twenty-five pounds of weight, should Cadence be inclined to join her in the saddle.

And she is inclined.

Very inclined.

So they ride together to the south field, Cadence in front, Marlee behind, one arm around her waist. It’s comfortable, close, and intimate without making Marlee feel guilty. As the sun rises higher in the sky, conversation flits from Cadence’s exams—the teen being concerned that she flunked chemistry, but confident that she aced French—to their upcoming family mini-vacation. They’ll be leaving a few days from now, and Cadence is excited.

Every year, she gets to pick the destination for a long weekend away during the summer, and this year, she’s chosen Lymington: a little seaside village on the south coast. It’s random, quite strange, and not at all the exotic hotspot that her parents were hoping for, but it’s her decision to make and fair’s fair.

On the way, there’s laughter, a few giggles, more laughter, and by the time they reach the south field, the awkwardness of breakfast is forgotten, and Cadence’s drunken antics from the night before are ancient history. In no hurry to get back to the house, Cadence suggests a swim in the lake, but Marlee refuses to skinny dip. Cadence threatens to throw her in fully clothed, but lacks the strength to follow through on the threat, and they collapse in giggles again.

Seeking respite from the midday heat, Marlee takes refuge in the shade of a tree and watches Cadence attempt to catch a butterfly.

She’s growing up, there’s no doubt about that, but she still has a playful spirit that Marlee hopes she never loses. She’s energetic and vivacious, her eyes sparkling with a passion for adventure and discovery. She likes to climb trees, catch toads, and play in the dirt, and she’s not prissy like a lot of other rich girls her age. She has no affectations, no insincerity, and not an ounce of malice. She’s delightful.