Still Falling (4 page)

Satisfied that the groundkeeper had everything under control, Marco had wandered
over to the rocky platform to make sure that Serena had left and the beach was
clear.
  
He had been horrified to find
her lying on the sand with the rising tide pulling at her canvas boating shoes.
 
By the time he had made his way down to the
sand the sweeping waves were pushing up past her waist, totally saturating her
jeans and most of her baggy fisherman knit jersey.

 
His heart had fluttered in his
chest like a wild bird in a trapped cage.
 
A quick check had confirmed that she was still breathing and her pulse
felt strong, so gathering her skeletal frame into his arms he had made his way
up to the house.
 
His relief when she had
woken up had been immense, but not enough to pacify his anger at the bastard
who had left her in this condition.
 
Whilst she hadn’t actually admitted being pregnant, her tears had been
confirmation enough.
 

Now sitting on the bed cradling her, he pondered their future.
 
Every fibre in his body wanted to protect
her, wipe away her pain.
 
He was even
prepared to raise the child as his own, if only she would stop running every
time he tried to talk to her.
 
He longed
for her to smile at him in the cheeky way she used to.
 
He kissed the top of her head, taking in the
smell of shampoo and sea lingered there.
 
Her sobs had eased and her breathing returned to normal so he lay her
head back down on the pillow.
 

For years he had imagined how she would look in this very spot.
 
He had hoped that when he finally made her
his, it would be here in his bed.
 
He
smiled bashfully, remembering how he had ended up making love to her on the recliner
in the sun room, surrounded by orchids instead.
 
The bedroom had just been too far away.

“Why did you run?” he whispered.
 
“Damn.
 
Where is everyone?”
  
He looked at the bedside clock for the
hundredth time.
 
He had phoned the doctor
and Mrs. Taylor ages ago.
 

Two of his models had gone through pregnancy whilst trying to remain
skeletal.
 
The two had tried keeping
their pregnancy a secret at first had regularly fainted giving everyone at work
quite a scare.
 
Marco had been so angry
when he found out that the girls would risk their health and their babies
health by starving themselves that he had insisted they eat at least two of
their daily meals supervised and had supervision for at least an hour and half
after those meals to make sure the food stayed down.
 
After calming down he had asked the team to
launch a maternity range for that season.
 

He looked at Serena, pale and gaunt.
 
He hoped he was wrong, but this seemed worse than the symptoms his
models had experienced.
 
They would only
pass out for a few second or so.
 
Serena
had earlier been out cold for almost an hour.
 

“Well you’re in the right place now.
 
If anyone will get you eating properly it’s your mother and I will help
you as much as you will allow me to.” He whispered, gently moving stray lock of
hair from her face.
 

Hearing footsteps on the stairs he rose to greet Serena’s mother and the
family doctor.
 
Giving a quick update, Marco
left them to attend to Serena and went down stairs to make a few overdue
business calls.

It was a good hour later when Serena’s mother patted her hand, as she
rose to leave.
 

“You will be just fine here in the main house.
 
The doctor will arrange for some medication
to be delivered in the morning and I will check up on you when I come in to
work in the morning.
 
You should be
grateful Marco found you when he did.
 
The tides are extra high tonight and the storm is pretty fierce.”

“Mama
please
…”

“Shush now and go to sleep.
 
There
is some soup downstairs for later which Marco had offered to warm up for you.”
 
With that her mother left.

Serena looked around for her clothes.
 
Nothing!

“Damn!” she muttered.
 
Climbing out
of the bed she studied the large T-shirt she had woken up in.
 
Compliments of Marco she guessed.
 
She flushed a little at the realisation that
it was neither the Doctor, nor her mother who had undressed her.
 
She now had one more thing to resent Marco
for.
 
At least she still had her
underwear but between that and the T-shirt, she had very little to keep her
modesty preserved.

Thank heavens I shaved.

She listened out for the sound of movement in the house but all she could
hear was soft ticking of a clock and a gale blowing up outside.
 
There had been no hint of a storm when she
had gone to the beach but gales often arrived at the island with little notice.
 
She rose from the bed and crossed over
to the wardrobe.
 
With only a quick
glance inside, she didn’t notice the flash of white under a dust cover at the
end of the rail.
 

Marco had, a surprisingly small quantity, of suits hanging in his
wardrobe, but then he only ever wore them on overseas visits, preferring more
comfortable cotton shirts or sweaters with chino’s or jeans.
 
Finding an oversized dressing gown hanging on
the back of the door, she tiptoed down the stairs.
 
Her bare feet, made no sound on the tiled
stairs and floor.
  

She had only been in the main house a few times as a teenager to help her
mother when Senor’ Spinozzi had become seriously ill.
 
He had needed ‘round the clock’ care in his
last few days and while her mother stayed close to his bedside, Serena had
taken care of chores which her mother could not do without leaving the Senor’
Spinozzi for long periods.
 
It hadn’t
been long after Senor passed away that the whole scene had been replayed with
Senora Spinozzi. Serena had spent much of the time tending to the living room
fire, the kitchen and the laundry.
 

She knew the house was large but somehow now it appeared larger than she
remembered it.
 
She found her way down
the long corridor to the living area and was still gathering her bearings and
looking for the door out when a wave of nausea overcame her and she clamped a
hand over her mouth, bending over double to try and control it.
 

Serena was only barely aware of the strong hands which grasped her
shoulders and guided her quickly to a small cloakroom.
 
Gently the hands swept her hair back and held
it out of the way as she let go.
 
Her
ribs already felt bruised, sweat was pouring from the effort and her head was
swimming from lack of oxygen as a result of the constant retching.

 
Marco stayed with her like that for
a good hour, before carrying her back upstairs.
 
He lay her down gently and wiped her brow with a damp flannel until she
fell asleep.
 
She just didn’t have the
strength to fight him.
 

It was early in the morning when she woke.
 
A small modern alarm clock on a bedside
cabinet which she hadn’t noticed last night declared it to be just after six
o’clock.
 
Marco had fallen asleep next to
her, fully clothed on top of the blankets and still clutching the flannel. His
breathing was slow and measured.
 
She
watched his face for a moment, making sure he was in a deep sleep.
 

Since being back, she hadn’t had much chance to study him properly,
always preferring to get out of his presence as quickly as possible.
 
He kept his hair shorter now she noted with
disapproval.
 
It actually managed to stay
brushed back.
 
She remembered when stray
loose waves used to fall onto his brow and he would brush it back with his
fingers.
 
Every time Serena caught him in
the act she would imagine her own fingers brushing those loose locks of hair
back into place.
 
She wished his hair was
a little longer now.
 
Perhaps then she
could finally brush it back with her fingers and at least get that out of her
system.
 

His face looks strained.
 
Long dark
eye
lashes,
brush down across the dark rings under his
eyes.
 
Her eyes followed his long narrow
nose down to the stubble on his top lip.
 

Oh god those lips
.
 

Those lips that had teased her that morning with the
most innocent of kiss.
 
That one
kiss that left her senses reeling, wanting more.
 
That one kiss that left her more confused
about where their relationship was going than anything that had ever passed
between them.
 
She remembered how later,
the slow, provocative dance his lips had then trailed across the soft edge of
her jaw to the small soft hollow beneath her ear before tenderly trailing down
her neck to her shoulder.
 
Desire now
curled like a serpent in her core at the memory.
 

She tore her gaze away from his lips and followed the strong line of his
jaw to his neatly trimmed sideburns and back up to his eyes.
 
Serena wanted desperately to kiss the tension
from the corners of his eyes.
 

Damn him for being so beautiful and
damn me for being so stupid.

Sighing quietly, she slowly rose from the bed trying not to disturb him.

Oooooo.
 
Head
rush!

Waiting for the blood to return to her head Serena steadied herself
against the bed with her knees.
 
Still
shaking off the last threads of sleep, she stared vacantly, at the first hazy
wisps of daylight, creeping through a narrow gap in the drapes.
 
Her mind was so far away that she didn’t
notice him stir, until he grasped her hands and pulled her swiftly back onto
the bed and into his arms.
 

Serena gasped loudly as she landed on the bed and within seconds his arms
had wrapped around her, threatening to squeeze the life from her.
 
His stubble was rough against her chin as he
ran his nose the length of hers and it electrified her.
 
Her breath caught in her chest as his hands
ran up her back and pulled her closer, almost painfully crushing her breasts
against his firm chest.

Thankful of the layers of gown and clothing separating them, Serena
hesitated for a heartbeat, not sure if she should obey her body which was
screaming in desire or her head which was telling her to run as fast as she
could.
  
Her heart had stopped beating
and flatly refused to tell her anything.

“Serena!” he breathed against her neck almost begging.
 
“I want you to be the first thing I see every
morning when I wake!”
 

A strong hand slid down her back to cup the curve of her buttock while a
leg wound over hers, effectively trapping them

“Don’t leave me again.”

Leave
?

That single
word brought the memory of that day at Spinozzi, back like a slap in the
face.
 
All the pain she felt when she left
from the entrance to the Spinozzi inspection room flooded back. She twisted out
of his grip elbowing his mid-drift whilst pushing
herself
away and running out the room.
 
She reached
the bottom of the stairs and stopped to steady herself while trying to remember
which way to go when he caught up to her.

He had no idea
where the words had come from.
 
He had
partially woken to find her standing next to his bed staring into the distance,
the gentle mounds of her breasts rising and settling to a rhythm of their own
under his t-shirt.
 
This was his room.
 
She was in his t-shirt.
 
Standing next to his bed.
 
In his semi-wakeful state, this goddess
belonged to him.
 
So he did the most
natural thing in the world.
 
He pulled
her down onto the bed to worship her the way goddesses should be worshiped.
 
He must have sensed a slight hesitation from
her.
 
Out of nowhere, he had begged her
to stay with him.
 
She bolted like a
small wild animal.
 
He never begged
anyone for anything.
 
He had never had
to.
 
He was a Spinozzi.