Legacy of Desire

Haven of Obedience
Forbidden Desires
The Discipline
House of Decadence

Also by Marina Anderson

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Davina looked critically at the drawing in front of her and sighed. Something was not quite right about it, but she couldn’t make out where the fault lay. There was no doubt it was erotic, and she was pleased with the air of urgency; the couple’s embrace was desperate in its haste, yet still it lacked something.

Realising that the studio was growing dark she glanced at her watch and saw with surprise that it was already six-thirty. She was having dinner with her uncle in the main house at seven o’clock, which only gave her half an hour to shower and change. Switching off the lamp over her drawing board she left the studio and walked through the wooden door into her cottage,
set in the grounds of her uncle’s country house in Oxfordshire.

She enjoyed her work as a freelance illustrator, and the studio that her uncle had allowed her to have built was better than anything she’d ever dreamed of having when she was married. Normally she was very content with her life, but for some reason the drawing she’d just been working on, commissioned for a science-fiction fantasy novel, was making her feel discontented, as though she was missing out on something, which was ridiculous because her life couldn’t have been better.

After her divorce, which hadn’t been in the least bit amicable, she’d spent months in a series of unpleasant lodgings, and when she’d first come to Oxfordshire it had seemed like heaven. Used to the company of older people, having been brought up by her grandparents after her unmarried mother died in childbirth, Davina wasn’t bothered that her main companion was a fifty-eight-year-old academic bachelor, whose only interests apart from his work were hunting and shooting. She loved her Uncle David, and since meeting Phil eighteen months earlier had thought she was completely fulfilled. She didn’t mind the fact that Phil worked as an
estate agent in London because she enjoyed having the weeks to herself, and most weekends he made the trip to Oxfordshire to join her.

At seven o’clock precisely, her short, dark, curly hair still slightly damp, Davina lifted the heavy brass knocker on the front door of the main house and brought it down heavily. Almost immediately her uncle’s valet opened the door.

‘Good evening, Mrs Fletcher.’

Davina smiled. ‘Good evening, Clive. I hope I’m not late.’

‘Exactly on time, as usual,’ he replied. ‘Your uncle’s waiting in the study. Would you care for a sherry?’

Davina nodded. ‘That would be lovely.’

In the study, the once bright carpet and curtains now faded with age, her uncle stood waiting. He had a mass of thick grey hair, and although tall, was slightly stooped due to too many hours spent poring over books. Nevertheless, he was a good-looking man and it always surprised Davina that he’d never married. He kissed her warmly on the cheek. ‘How’s the work going?’

‘I think it’s all right.’

Her uncle gave her a quick glance of surprise. ‘You don’t sound too sure.’

‘I’m not,’ she admitted. ‘Technically it’s correct, but compared with the manuscript my pictures lack something. The problem is, I don’t know what.’

‘Perhaps I should come and have a look,’ suggested her uncle.

Davina shook her head. ‘They’re not your sort of thing at all.’

He smiled. ‘That sounds interesting. I take it these aren’t your normal run-of-the-mill drawings?’

‘They’re more … adult,’ said Davina, and to her annoyance felt her cheeks redden.

Her uncle laughed. ‘I do have a bit of experience of the world you know, Davina. There’s no need to protect me. In fact, I’d say that you’re the one who needs to know more about life.’

‘How can you say that?’ she asked in surprise. ‘I’m a divorced woman, or had you forgotten?’

‘I hadn’t forgotten. If you’ve finished your sherry let’s go through to dinner.’

As usual the food was perfect. Davina’s Uncle David
had had the same chef for the past ten years, and always said that he didn’t know what he’d do if he left. Certainly Davina loved eating at the main house, especially since her normal diet consisted of instant meals thrown in the microwave, or tins of soup heated and eaten with rolls or bread.

‘I worry about you, you know,’ her uncle remarked suddenly.

Davina raised her head. ‘Why?’

‘You’re only twenty-five, this isn’t the life for you.’

‘It’s the kind of life I want,’ she said firmly, trying to push her earlier feelings of unease to one side as doubts again began to assail her. ‘Getting divorced from Michael was quite enough excitement for several years.’

‘You should never have married him in the first place. How old was he?’

‘You know perfectly well how old he was.’

‘Quite, he was forty and you were nineteen. In my opinion it’s because you never knew your father. Michael was filling the gap, but of course it didn’t work out because he didn’t want to behave like a father towards you, and quite right too.’

Davina shifted uneasily in her seat. Normally her
uncle never touched on personal topics and she found the conversation very awkward. She was an intensely private person and had always thought that she and her uncle were alike. ‘What’s this about?’ she muttered.

‘As I said, I’m worried. You’ve buried yourself in the middle of nowhere, with no young people around you, and spend most of your time shut in that studio drawing pictures for works of fiction. You’re not living at all, Davina. You’re simply existing or, and this may be worse, you’re trying to hide.’

‘Hide from what?’

Her uncle sighed. ‘I’ve no idea. The true you perhaps?’

‘I do have Phil.’

Her uncle pulled a face. ‘I thought you liked Phil!’ she exclaimed. ‘He isn’t exactly a charmer. He can be quite arrogant at times.’

Davina knew this was true. ‘He doesn’t mean it. He lacks tact, that’s all,’ she said defensively.

‘You deserve better. Besides, he’s an estate agent.’ Their eyes met and Davina couldn’t help laughing.

‘Someone has to go out with estate agents.’

Her uncle nodded. ‘Agreed, but does it have to be you?’

‘Perhaps I’m in love with him.’

Her uncle’s face became very still. ‘Are you?’

‘I don’t think I want to answer that,’ she retorted, her appetite fading rapidly.

‘Which means you’re not.’

‘He suits me,’ she explained. ‘He’s not here all the week, which I like and he’s …’

‘Safe,’ her uncle concluded. ‘Safe, if a little boorish.’

‘All right, he’s not perfect,’ conceded Davina. ‘But who is?’

Her uncle didn’t reply until Clive had removed their empty plates and served dessert. Then he continued the discussion. ‘You’re too young to settle for this, Davina. Your loyalty to Phil is misplaced. Before you know it you’ll be my age and regretting all the years that you wasted.’

‘Is that what this is about?’ asked Davina. ‘You’ve been sitting here brooding about your wasted youth, have you?’

Her uncle shook his head. ‘I certainly haven’t. It might surprise you to learn that I didn’t waste my
youth. I lived it to the full and although I made mistakes, when I look back now I don’t regret any of it. You know what they say, a man who doesn’t make mistakes doesn’t make anything.’

‘My marriage was my mistake,’ retorted Davina. ‘I’m not in a hurry to make another one.’

‘You’re a beautiful young woman,’ said her uncle. ‘Sometimes I don’t think you realise how attractive you are. Have you thought about moving back to London now that you’re getting established? You’d meet more people there and …’

‘I don’t want to meet more people,’ she said shortly. ‘Do you think we could talk about something else?’

‘I feel responsible for you,’ explained her uncle. ‘When your mother died I should have taken more interest in your upbringing but …’

‘But you were too busy gadding around, living life to the full,’ said Davina with a laugh.

He nodded. ‘Something like that. Anyway, I feel that the least I can do now is make up for my lack of interest earlier.’

‘You’ve done that by giving me a home here. I’m really happy and just because I’m not living the kind of
life you think I should be living, that doesn’t alter things. Tell me one thing that I don’t have here that I could find in London?’

Her uncle didn’t hesitate. ‘Passion,’ he said curtly.

Davina stared at him in surprise. ‘Passion?’

‘Yes. There’s no passion in your life, Davina.’

‘That’s it!’ said Davina, suddenly realising the problem with her drawings. ‘Thank you, Uncle, you’ve solved it for me.’

‘Solved what?’

‘Now I know what’s wrong with my drawings. They lack passion.’

‘How surprising,’ he said dryly. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You can hardly put passion in your drawings when you don’t know anything about it.’

‘I do know about passion,’ she retorted.

‘Really?’

Davina thought for a moment. The truth was that she didn’t. There’d been no passion in her marriage, and if passion was what she read about in books then there was none between her and Phil; personally she thought that passion was probably vastly overrated. In
any case, it was bound to lead to problems and she liked an easy, uncomplicated life. ‘I’m perfectly happy. And although I may only be twenty-five I’m old enough to know my own mind. You must stop meddling in my life and get on with your own.’

‘Point taken,’ he agreed. ‘But promise me you’ll at least think about what I’ve said.’

‘All right,’ she conceded. ‘Now, have you got any work for me?’

‘Quite a bit. I’ll give it to you after we’ve had coffee.’

Davina was relieved. Her uncle refused to take any rent for the cottage, saying that he didn’t need the money. However, in order that she shouldn’t feel beholden to him, she did all his secretarial work and also acted as hostess whenever he entertained.

At the end of the evening he handed her a folder full of typing. ‘You haven’t forgotten that I’ve got a shooting party coming tomorrow, have you?’

Davina shook her head. ‘Of course not. How many will there be for dinner?’

‘Sixteen.’

‘Does that include me?’

Her uncle smiled. ‘Naturally it includes you. I want
you to dress up in all your finery and play the hostess. It’s eight-thirty for nine. Even you can’t work later than that.’

‘No I don’t, it gets too dark.’

At ten-thirty she made her way back to the cottage, but although she went straight to bed she found that the conversation with her uncle had disturbed her more than she’d realised. She couldn’t help wondering if he was right, if she was missing something. The problem was that she was afraid of taking risks. During her childhood her grandparents had been incredibly protective, terrified that, having lost their only daughter, they would somehow lose their grandchild as well. As a result, she saw life as being full of hidden dangers.

Men had been a taboo subject during her formative years which was, she supposed, why both her husband and Phil were such ‘safe’ men. Not that she’d met many dangerous ones, she thought to herself, as she drifted off to sleep.

That night, to her shame, her dreams were incredibly sensual. Davina went from one sexual encounter to another, finding intense satisfaction with each liaison, yet strangely all the men were faceless and none spoke.
When she awoke the next morning, instead of feeling refreshed she felt exhausted but at the same time on edge. ‘Uncle David,’ she muttered. ‘What have you done?’

She knew she’d be busy all that evening helping her uncle entertain his guests, so Davina got down to work quickly. Looking carefully at her drawings she knew that what she’d suspected during her conversation with her uncle was true. Technically the drawings were very good, conveying the urgent, hedonistic desires of the aliens portrayed in the book, but technique alone wasn’t enough. She knew now that the work lacked passion. In the novel the entire alien civilisation crumbled, destroyed by physical passions that overrode everything, including the necessity for some of them to quit their planet in search of inter-galactic assistance. The problem was, how could she convey this emotion in her drawings?