Stone Castles (15 page)

He dragged her bucking hips down one more time and followed her on a cry, pumping his release into her.

She blinked, slumped against his shoulder, her breathing still ragged, her senses humming.

Oh my.

Clearly some things never changed.

Chapter Twenty-one

T
he music had stopped. Strange how he hadn't noticed before. But then he had been slightly distracted by the naked woman now slumped on his lap.

God. Pip, of all women. He didn't know what the aftermath of this was going to be. There was bound to be one. All he knew was that he'd just experienced the best sex he'd had in a whole lot of years.

He lay back on the sofa, nestling her limp body close to his. The air was warm around them, musky with sex and sweet with woman.

She gave a loud exhale and pushed her long hair from her face. ‘God, I needed that.'

He smiled, and kissed her brow, figuring he'd needed it more. ‘I wouldn't tell Chad that, if I were you.'

She peeked up at him from beneath her lashes. ‘He's not really my boyfriend. Well, not really a friend at all. We, um, have an arrangement.'

‘Yeah,' he said, with more gravel in his voice than he'd meant to put there. ‘Craig told me.'

‘Craig?' she squeaked, and buried her face in his armpit. ‘Oh, good grief.'

And he chuckled in spite of himself. Without even meeting the guy, he didn't like him – let alone their cosy little arrangement. But it did something to his ego that he'd been the one to turn her knees to water. And it definitely said something that she'd trusted him enough to go there without a raincoat.

Take that, Chad.

He knew there was a place for protection but he'd always preferred skin on skin, and it hadn't improved marital relations any that Sharon had insisted on condoms from day one, even though she was on the pill. It was like she thought he was unclean, or that she couldn't bear to have him naked inside her, or that she wanted absolutely no chance that she might get pregnant.

Looking back he was grateful that she hadn't wanted his kids or skin on skin. God knows how long she'd been fucking around behind his back before she'd taken off with her new best friend.

He sighed, stretching his neck, for the first time noticing the box and bulging bag near the bureau. ‘Sort out all your gran's stuff?'

‘Yeah, but I didn't find anything.'

He stilled. He'd assumed she'd just wanted to clean it out before it went to the B&B. ‘You mean anything that might tell you who your father was?'

She nodded. ‘I was hoping,' she said, and turned her head up to him. ‘I'm sorry, Luke, I know it wasn't your dad. I don't think I ever believed that. Not really.'

He dipped his head and kissed her hair. ‘I know.'

‘It's strange. I didn't come back with any thought of finding out who he might be. But I guess every time I'm here, I'm reminded that I don't know.'

He nodded, stroking her hair. ‘If there was a chance, it was probably going to be in that bureau with all your gran's things.'

She sighed. ‘That's what I figured. I just have to accept that I'm never going to find out, although I did find some extra photos I can display at the funeral.'

‘How are you going with all that?'

‘Okay. I've written the eulogy, or mostly written it. I change it every time I look at it.'

‘I'll be there,' he said, pressing his lips to her head and he felt her lips smile against his shoulder.

‘Thank you.' And then she groaned. ‘I really need to pee.'

If there was one downside to the shed, Luke thought, it was the lack of bathroom facilities. But there was an upside too, at a time like this. ‘Come over to the house. You can take a shower.'

She blinked up at him, her eyes cloudy like she was disappointed. ‘Oh, yeah, I suppose I better get going.'

‘That wasn't what I meant.'

‘What do you mean?'

He grinned. ‘You haven't seen the shower.'

‘You're kidding,' she said five minutes later, after they'd put on enough clothes to be decent in case anyone suddenly turned up, and strolled to the house. She'd already oohed and aahed over the new loo he'd had put in, only too happy to give it a test drive. Now her eyes were as wide as her smile as she took in the sparkling bathroom. ‘When did you have all this done?'

He shrugged. ‘A few years back. The pipes were going and needed to be dug out of the wall and I thought it was about time. You like?'

‘It's gorgeous!' She remembered it being pink and green the last time she'd been here, with vinyl peeling off the floor and a cracked mirrored cabinet above the tiny sink and the old loo holding pride of place on the back wall. Now it was decorated in traditional black and white, the glossy white wall tiles were at least two feet by one, the big square black and white floor tiles laid in a diamond pattern. On one side was a double vanity, while on the other sat a vast white bathtub that looked like it had been carved from a slab of rock. At the end of the room was a wall of glass with a silver handle.

She smiled, ‘That's your shower?'

He nodded. ‘But there's a catch.'

‘You don't say. What is it?'

‘I'm trying to save water.'

She quirked an eyebrow. ‘Would it help if we showered together, do you think?'

He grinned. ‘You catch on fast.'

Which is how she found herself leaning against the shower wall ten minutes later with his head between her thighs and his clever tongue doing all manner of wicked things. Her fingers curled in his hair as he took her to the brink time and again as a torrent of water from the rainforest showerhead above streamed over his back.

And she was panting and desperate all over again when finally he relented and stood up, his hand curved around her leg to raise it. But however much she wanted him inside her again, she wanted something else more. ‘No,' she said, pushing his hand away as she dropped to her knees and took his rock-hard erection in her hand. ‘Not yet.'

He groaned above her as her tongue circled the tip, first one way and then the other before she opened her mouth and drew him inside the heat of her mouth. He was salty and satin smooth and rock hard and he hissed air through his teeth and braced himself against the wall.

She made love to him with her mouth and her tongue, pleasuring him as he'd done for her. She took him deep and then deeper still, using fingertips and nails to stroke him so that he clenched his muscles tight and pushed deeper into her mouth. She worshipped his cock until he couldn't take any more and pulled her up and this time she let him drape her leg over his arm as he found her core and drove himself home, pounding into her slickness as the water pounded down upon them both.

Her climax slammed into her, so fast and so furious that she didn't know which way was up and she had to cling to him as he pumped into her, crying out when he followed her into the abyss.

Panting, her heart racing, she slipped her leg free from his hand and tested her knees. Yup, she could stand. Just. Not that she was letting go just yet. ‘So,' she said, her arms around his neck, still getting her breath back, ‘how much water do you think we saved?'

‘Come to dinner,' he said, his hands curving around her butt cheeks.

‘What?'

‘I'm taking Turbo to the pub for dinner tonight, seeing I've finished the harvesting. I'm asking if you'd like to come too.'

‘Wow.' Boy, this was unexpected. ‘I don't want to play gooseberry or anything, if you two were planning a date night.'

‘Turbo's good with it.'

‘You haven't even asked him yet.'

‘It's not that kind of relationship.'

‘Well, that's a relief!'

‘So will you?'

‘I'm not exactly dressed for dinner.'

He looked down at her slick body, beaded with moisture. ‘I don't know, you might create a bit of a buzz. But no, shorts will be fine.'

‘Just dinner, then?'

‘Yeah. Just dinner. Well, maybe dinner and sex.'

‘Luke . . .' She shook her head. ‘I don't want you getting the wrong idea.'

‘You'd rather have sex and dinner? We can do it your way. I'm easy.'

She smiled. ‘I don't want you thinking there's anything happening here. It is just sex. Great sex admittedly. Mind-blowing sex if you must know. But I'm going home in three days. It can only be sex.'

‘I know. But the way I figure it, we can either forget today ever happened, or we can make the most of those three days and nights. So, is that a yes?'

She smiled, her skin already tingling at the thought of having sex with this man again. ‘That's a yes.'

‘Did you discover anything?' Tracey asked, as soon as she picked up the phone.

‘Nothing.' Other than that Luke was as good a lover as she remembered, but Tracey didn't need to know that. ‘Hey Trace, is it okay if I skip dinner tonight?'

‘You mean, miss my famous apricot chicken?' She laughed. ‘Of course. What are you doing?'

‘Oh, just going out for dinner.'

‘Yeah, who with?'

Well, she was bound to ask that. ‘Just, um, Luke.'

‘Just, um, Luke, hey? That sounds cosy.'

Pip winced. ‘Well, and Turbo.'

‘Oh, the whole family's going. That'll be fun.' There was a moment's hesitation before, ‘Pip, is something going on between you two?'

‘No! What could possibly be going on? It's just a . . . a thank you for looking after the furniture. Only I thought I should make an effort after that conversation we had at lunch yesterday. We don't even like each other really.'

‘Yeah, that's what you keep saying. Makes perfect sense you'd want to go to dinner with him. I guess we'll see you later, then.'

‘Yeah,' Pip said, biting her lip.

Much later.

She was picking up the last of her stuff from the shed before they went to dinner.

‘You looked through this?' he said, pulling out one of the small drawers of the sewing machine.

‘Yeah. It's all bobbins and wooden cotton reels from what I could see. I thought I might as well leave them for a bit of atmosphere for the B&B.'

He nodded. ‘Fair enough, he said, as he pulled out the second one for a quick look and then the third. The bottom drawer stuck and he pulled and it still stuck so he squatted down.

‘I know. That's one's stuck. But it's empty.'

Luke crouched down lower and looked underneath. ‘Oh.'

A shiver went down her spine. ‘What is it?' she asked, coming closer.

He pressed his fingers up under the drawer and pulled and the little drawer slid out. He flipped it over, and this time the shiver became a bloom of warm tingles that worked their way from her insides out.

An envelope was stuck to the bottom of the drawer, the paper now yellow with age, the strips of sellotape around the edges cracking and split so that the envelope was peeling off and falling down and blocking the drawer's slide.

Luke looked up at her. ‘You might want to take a look at this.'

She ventured closer, her mouth dry, fear and excitement warring for supremacy in her stomach.

He prised the buckled envelope away from the base of the drawer and handed it to her. She turned it over in her hands. There was nothing written on the outside. Over a thumping heart, she told herself not to get too excited – it could still turn out to be nothing.

But the fact that it had been there, stuck so far out of the way that nobody might inadvertently find it . . .

Could it contain the key to finding out who her father was?

Her hands were shaking, all her senses on alert.

Nervously she pulled back the flap and pulled out the contents. There was a letter. Or at least a folded up note. And another bankbook, this one much more recent, from when entries were made by a printer.

Quickly she rifled through the pages of the book. It was made out in her mother's maiden name – Deirdre Cooper – and there was an opening deposit made thirty-three years ago – the year before Pip was born. There were subsequent withdrawals, but none of it offered any clue.

And so she opened the letter that had been folded into four, a handwritten note addressed to her grandmother that read,

Dear Mrs Turner,

Please find enclosed a cheque in the amount of five thousand dollars in full settlement for the unfortunate incident.

Your utmost discretion in this matter is appreciated.

Yours sincerely,

Colin Armistead.

She frowned and flipped the paper over. What ‘unfortunate incident'?

And she looked at the date, one month before her parents' marriage, but perhaps more significantly, six months before she was born, and certainty zinged down her spine.

She dropped to her knees. ‘Oh god.'

Luke was down on his knees with his arm around her shoulders in an instant. ‘What is it?'

‘It was me,' she said, holding up the paper. ‘This man paid money to my gran because of me. Because I was coming.' And she looked up at him. ‘Do you think this Colin Armistead could be my father?'

Chapter Twenty-two

‘S
how me,' he said, and she handed him the note that had rocked her world. ‘Wow,' he said, ‘I imagine that was quite a bit of money back then.'

‘Hush money.'

‘Yeah. The “appreciate your discretion” kind of gives that away.'

‘You know, Luke, I might take a raincheck on that dinner.'

‘You think you're going to find this guy tonight?'

‘I have to look.'

He frowned and shook his head ‘I've never heard of him. Or anyone around here with that name for that matter.'

‘He must be out there somewhere. I have to find him.'

‘Yeah, but, where Pip? This was more than thirty years ago. Where are you going to start?'

She turned to him then, the blue in her eyes swirling with uncertainty, and he had a glimpse of her as that tortured teen, coming to him across the paddocks, dripping wet and bereft, her beautiful eyes filled with nightmares, her lips quivering. ‘I don't know.'

‘Tell you what, come back over to the house. You can check the phone book for Armisteads and I'll fire up the computer and start searching.'

She blinked up at him. ‘Why? Why would you do that?'

He gave her shoulders a squeeze. ‘Because it's important.'

He'd hauled her to her feet when she turned to him and said, ‘I really am sorry. For everything.'

And he kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Come on. Let's see if we can't track down our Mr Armistead of the big pockets.'

Pip sniffed. ‘Sounds like that wasn't his only claim to fame.'

In Luke's kitchen, phone book open on the table, she picked up the receiver and dialled the first number, took a deep breath when it answered on the third ring and said, ‘Hi, I'm hoping you can help me. I'm looking for a Colin Armistead . . .'

An hour later Luke pulled a tray of golden potato gems from the oven. He tipped them into a waiting bowl without losing one overboard, like he'd accomplished the feat plenty of times before. The kitchen had been done up since she'd last been here too. It was now all clean lines and dark grey marble benchtops with stainless steel appliances, with Luke in fresh jeans and a white T-shirt and an oven mitt at the centre of it all.

It was a good look.

‘Not exactly haute cuisine,' he said, as he put the bowl in the middle of the wide kitchen bench and pulled a couple of fresh beers from the fridge, screwing off the tops and passing her one as he sat down next to his laptop. ‘But it is hot. Now, what have we got?'

Pip tried to ignore temptation sitting less than an arm's length away. She looked at the bowl. And then there were the potato gems.

She gritted her teeth against an ill-timed pang of lust. Luke had awakened something in her today, a desire she associated with her past. A desire she'd always attributed to youth and an excess of hormones. But she was a grown woman now. Things should be different. Things usually were different. Back in New York she might have sex as little once a month, and that was enough to keep any untoward urges at bay, but she'd made love to this man twice today and was already thinking about ripping off that T-shirt and jeans and getting tangled up on the floor. Or the table.

Both ideas appealed.

She squirmed on her chair and reached for a potato gem. What the hell was wrong with her?

She nibbled at the gem and hauled her mind back into line as she looked down at her list.

Focus!

Deep breath. ‘I don't have that much to report. According to the phone book, there are no Armisteads on the Yorke Peninsula at all,' she said, ‘although they could have private numbers or mobiles, of course. And a check of the White Pages reveals ten C Armisteads spread around the rest of the country, only two in South Australia, but when I called them – those that did answer – well, not one of them is called Colin or knows anyone called Colin.'

She took a breath and finished off the gem, brushing her hands and reaching for her beer to wash it down. ‘And before I called every other Armistead in the phone book, I checked Facebook and didn't get much further than a bunch of American teens with biceps and tatts. So, after a lot of dead ends, I'm wondering if this Colin has a social media presence at all. Maybe I'd be better just getting back on the phone.' She looked across at Luke, all freshly washed with a two-day growth of stubble on his jaw and a white T-shirt that hugged his biceps, and figured the bowl of gems in the centre of table was the lesser of two evils. She helped herself to another one.

‘Yeah, well, we're talking someone who's thirty years older than when he wrote that note, and we don't know how old he was then.'

‘He couldn't be that old. Surely Mum wouldn't have done it with someone . . .' She shivered and stuck out her tongue. ‘Ugh.'

‘Well, that's assuming our Colin Armistead is the one. What young bloke would have a handy five grand hanging around back then? Besides, look at the language he used.' He picked up the note from the table. ‘“Appreciate your discretion.” It doesn't sound like a kid who's just got someone's daughter banged up.' He looked up. ‘Sorry, that sounded a bit rough.'

But Pip nodded, daunted by the size of the task and the sheer number of unknowns. Having a name had seemed like an answer but all it did was raise more questions. ‘No, you're right. Maybe Colin was his father?'

‘Yeah, I've been wondering the same thing.' He looked down at his laptop. ‘Anyway, so here's what I've got. Google tells me there's a Colin A Armistead JP in Newcastle, a footballer aged twenty-eight in the UK who I think we can safely rule out, and I found a death notice for a Colin Armistead from 1997 somewhere in Perth.'

Pip blinked. ‘That could be him. He could be dead by now, right?'

Luke shrugged, but the frown tugging his brows together told her he wasn't half as casual about the prospect. ‘Yeah, he could,' he said, reaching for a couple of gems, flicking one to the waiting Turbo at his feet. ‘I think the JP in Newcastle might be worth following up on.'

Pip glanced at her watch. It would be after seven in New South Wales by now but tomorrow afternoon was the funeral and she was running out of time. ‘I might try calling tomorrow morning.'

‘Do you really want to be doing that on the day of the funeral?'

‘I can't leave it any later – not when I'm leaving in two days.'

She reached over and picked up another potato gem, crisp and golden in her fingers. ‘I'll be up for excess baggage if I keep eating my way through these babies.'

She crunched into it. Oh god, she was going to pay for this. ‘I never realised how much I missed these.'

He shrugged. ‘Nobody's making you go back.'

She stopped crunching and looked at him, her eyes narrowing. Maybe this sex thing had been a mistake after all. Maybe he was getting the wrong idea. ‘My job is making me go back. My life is in New York now. I like it that way.'

He held up one hand. ‘Hey, don't be so sensitive. It was a throwaway line. I'm not on some kind of mission to bring you back. Believe it or not, we all get by perfectly well when you're not around.'

She blinked and took a deep breath. So okay, maybe she'd overreacted. ‘Good to know,' she said, even though his words had stung. Had she really needed to hear they coped so brilliantly without her?

Well, she'd get on fine too, just as soon as she was back in New York.

‘I should go,' she said. ‘There's probably not a whole lot more we can do tonight, and I've still got to finish off my words for the service tomorrow.'

‘Already? I thought we had a deal.'

‘What?'

‘Dinner and sex.' He glanced at the bowl. ‘Admittedly the dinner's been a bit of a let-down, but I'm hoping to make up for that in the sex department.'

She smiled warily, her overreaction having taken the edge off her earlier surge of lust. ‘You know, this is probably a mistake.'

‘Yeah,' he said, with his own smile that warmed her all the way to her toes. ‘But they reckon you learn from your mistakes, so I'm figuring it can't be all bad.' He cocked an eyebrow as he leaned over, snaking an arm around her neck and drawing her closer. ‘Want to teach me a lesson or two?'

‘Well, if you put it like that.'

‘I'll put it any way you want.'

‘Now you're just bragging.'

And he smiled and pulled her mouth against his. ‘Yep.'