Stranded (5 page)

She
was
awake in the night again. Jed had gone out - this time she’d heard the
door open and close softly. Swinging her legs out of bed, Tamsin padded across
to the laptop and opened the lid, seeing the time was only eleven. It was the
twenty-ninth of April, and that made her do a mental double take: time had
raced past and soon the helicopter would arrive and take her away from the
island. That thought filled her with an inexplicable sense of loss that blotted
out any dread she might feel about dealing with the problems she had left
behind in her everyday life, and she realised that this place had woven itself
into her consciousness and touched her heart.

She tried to get back to sleep, but, for some reason, her
mind was going round and round, alert and jangling with energy. Suddenly she
was filled with the urge to be outside, under the sky; a feeling that beckoned
to her, made her feet itch and her blood sing. She resisted for as long as she
could, snuggling back under the bedcovers, trying to recapture the delicious drowsiness
that had sent her into a deep sleep the moment her head had touched the pillow
earlier. But it was hopeless, so she gave in and pulled on jeans, sweater and
boots, letting
herself
out into the night.

The moon was still high above the horizon, a fat crescent
swelling towards first quarter, and it shed a steady silver radiance that
delineated the grasses and painted a wash of pearl over the stone slates on the
roof of the Hermitage and the rotors of the two small wind turbines further up
the slope behind the dwelling.

Tamsin headed for the cove, as if drawn by a magnet. Part
of her knew she might run into Jed, might even surprise him pleasuring himself
again, but that caution was overridden by the need to reach the sea, to stretch
her limbs, raise her arms and abandon herself to the magic that seemed to be
building all around her.

When she got there, she saw that the tide was right out.
The sand lay uncovered in a glistening silver sheet all the way to the rocks
that led to the outer bay and open sea. She could make out smaller outcrops
that would be submerged when the tide was in, and a few isolated pools of water
that reflected the path of light from the moon itself. The air was mild and
almost still, filled with the scents of sea and flowers. It was so quiet. Even
the gulls, in their precarious nests, for once had ceased their squabbling. And
she found she wanted to cast her clothes aside, wade in those sea pools,
let
the faint breeze touch her skin like a balm.

She looked around vaguely but could see
no sign of Jed and convinced herself he must have gone the other way
,
maybe further inland
. Anyway, the urge to connect with the
elements was becoming hard to resist, so she pulled off sweater, boots and jeans,
leaving them above the tide line, and ran down across the sand.

Wetness thrilled her feet and squelched between her toes.
It was just a little chilly, but that seemed to energise her. She raised her
arms and twirled and danced, laughing with joy, hair a whirling nimbus round
her, naked skin sizzling with delicious currents that raised goose bumps and
sent a shiver up and down her spine. The Viking amulet lifted and
fell,
cold against the hollow of her throat on the twine Jed
had given her to string it, seeming to send shocks through her skin. She didn’t
understand the undertow of emotions that pulled at her; she only knew that she
had never felt so alive.

She looked back and saw the crazy patterns her feet had
woven, prints criss-crossing black against electric white. The cliffs were
luminous in the moonlight, grassy tussocks tumbling to the dark rocks below.
The sky was clear, the stars faint but steady. Her mad dance had taken her to
the edge of dry sand again, though her toes still sank into the damp ridges the
receding sea had left behind.

Then, suddenly, he was there, naked as she was, traversing
the floor of the cove from the direction of the sea, twenty yards away, then
ten, then closer still. He came towards her without speaking. She saw that,
once again, he was hard, his maleness thrusting proudly. She marvelled at his
beauty, the way his muscles gleamed under damp skin and his curls moulded wetly
to his skull. Without clothes, he was slimmer than she’d realised, yet broad
across the shoulders, body tapering towards his hips, his stomach a ridge of
muscle where a line of black hair led sleekly to the dense curls that nestled
below.

Still he came towards her; still not a word passed between
them. She was held in the magic of the moment, barely breathing, and yet with
her breath panting a little, her pulse leaping. Then he took her face in his
hands, ran his fingers into her hair, bent to capture her mouth with his. A soaring
fire passed through her and her senses, which she had thought were totally
alive, rocketed onto another level. He sucked on her lower lip, nipping and
licking, then explored the inner lining of her mouth with his tongue, and
Tamsin’s legs went weak so that she thought she would sink to her knees. But he
held her up, arms coming round her, melding her to his chest, the sprinkling of
hairs there chafing her breasts, rousing her, making her gasp - the first sound
either of them had made.

Then he was pulling away from her, holding her at arms
length, ravishing her with his eyes, before bending his lips to her throat, her
collarbones, leaving a trail of kisses that made her draw her breath sharply. She
twined her fingers into his wet hair, rising passion making her adventurous,
while he sent his roving mouth ever lower, first to her nipples, where he
nipped and suckled, then drew tantalising circles with the flat of his tongue
around her areolas, then across each nub in turn; moving lower still to explore
the swell of her belly, the hollow of her navel, then, kneeling in homage to
her, coming home to her pubic hair and the secret places it hid.

Then, at last, he spoke, voice growling with arousal: ‘I
saw you making love to yourself in the bath pool the other morning. Then I
watched you while you swam. I couldn’t help myself. You don’t know how difficult
it’s been for me to restrain myself. I’ve desired you since the moment I pulled
you from the sea. Tamsin, you’re driving me mad.’

She put her hands down to caress his face. ‘I saw you too,
the other night on the beach…ah…God…fondling yourself. You were beautiful. Please
don’t stop what you were doing just now - I couldn’t bear it! I need you.’

With a groan he sought her again, running his tongue over
her swollen clitoris, licking her labia, then taking the whole of her into his
mouth and sucking and releasing, sucking and releasing, slipping into her
vagina, tasting her, then exploring her wetness and all her most intimate
frills and folds, till she thought she would literally die of the pleasure he
evoked.

He raised his head and his eyes locked onto hers, fathomless
in the moonlight, holding her to him with the force of his will, as if he would
draw out her essence. Tamsin was mesmerised, bewitched. Her heart was thudding
like a thousand drums, and yet she felt a still, quiet place inside her where
this felt so right, as if something had brought her here tonight to be with
him. And she knew that if this was all there was, she would not undo it, would
not have chosen a different path. But, oh how she hoped there would be more,
because the thought of leaving him behind was beginning to feel unbearable.

Then he was gently pulling her down, drawing her into his
arms, rolling her on top of him, kissing her breasts, claiming her mouth again
so that she could taste herself on him. She knelt astride him, hands either
side of his body sinking into granular sand. She lowered her mouth to find him,
to take his length between her lips. She tongued the pebble smooth head of his
penis, long, languorous strokes that brought him to even greater hardness, his
hips straining as he thrust between her teeth. Wriggling sideways, she freed
one hand from supporting herself and moved it along his shaft in an ever-increasing
rhythm. Then he turned her so that they were lying head to groin like commas,
his lips finding her core again, while she took him into her mouth once more,
lips moving up and down the silken length of him till he gasped with passion.
His tongue was tormenting her, moving in and out of her, then up to circle her
clitoris, darting back and forth, first soft and light, then hard and all
encompassing, mouth lapping and biting and sucking till she thought she would
die of pleasure.

 
But, just as
she thought she would explode into orgasm, he sat up, pulled her into his arms
again, brushing her hair from her brow, kissing her forehead, her eyelids, her
throat until she was awash with tenderness and overwhelmed with emotion. Then
he straddled her, pushing her legs apart with one knee, plunging into her. He
filled her, the length and the width of him delicious, and, with slow strokes, he
moved in and out, in and out, bringing her to the brink of release and then
drawing back, again and again, till she thought she could bear no more and
would burst apart with the pitch of pleasure he commanded.

She felt a wetness swirl around her feet and realised that,
while they had been caught in the thrall of sexual congress, the tide had come
in. With each plunge of his length into her, the waves rolled in, and with each
withdrawal they ebbed back down the beach, until the pulse of the sea was the
peaking and receding of delight.

Until, at last, consummation would no longer be denied. They
both tensed, the final crest of orgasm taking them together, lifting them into
an ecstasy that was beyond even the burning need of the flesh.

Then they lay in each other’s arms, utterly spent, the high
tide washing away the bodily juices they had expended, cooling their flushed
skin, lulling them almost to slumber. Except that the sea was too cooling. So
they got to their feet, still dazed with the aftermath of gratification. He
claimed her mouth again, then tenderly brushed the sand from her hair, handed
her clothes to her, and, taking her hand, led her back to the Hermitage.

They didn’t speak on the walk back, and were still silent
when they opened the door and went through to the living area, of one accord
making for the bed. There he laid her down and paid homage to her body once
more. He was firm and hard again, the symbol of his manhood prodding at her
thighs, her stomach, demanding entry, which she willingly granted. This time he
took her fast and furiously, riding her hard, balls slapping against her. She
had thought herself too exhausted to respond, but sensation flared and sparked
though her again, burning in her clitoris and her inner reaches, pulsing in
ever mounting waves, till she was thrashing her head from side to side,
helpless to stem the flood of sheer animal lust that consumed her.

Afterwards, he kissed her, gentled her, caressed her
breasts and her back,
held
her to him. Then she felt
him begin to harden again and she knelt at his side, taking his gorgeous length
and girth deep into her mouth, sucking and releasing, moving her lips up and
down his shaft, feeling his muscles flex as he arched his back in abandon, till
he was pumping into her mouth, a great cry tearing from him, wordless and feral
in its intensity, and her own body was responding with a burst of pleasure that
took her by surprise and lifted her onto the peak of delight once more, like a
vessel cast up on the shore.

Then, totally satisfied at last, he fell asleep, one arm
still encircling her thigh. But Tamsin sat and watched
him,
his long lashes curling in his cheeks, his face innocent and almost childlike
in slumber, till at last the long night was ended and the rose of dawn touched
the sky.

The
next
two days passed like a dream. They walked around the island, watching
bees foraging for nectar among the broom and heather that clothed the slopes,
and deer starting up almost under their feet; they swam in the cove; Jed took
her fishing in the outer bay in his boat; and they made love constantly, limbs
entwined till their bodies seemed inseparable and Tamsin thought she would
dissolve, consumed by the all encompassing passion that played between them. And
they talked and talked, sharing experiences, finding they had much in common
and seemed to think in a similar way. She had never been so happy and had begun
to hope that what was between them would be enduring. For the rest of her life
she would remember this time: the free and easy repartee between herself and
Jed; watching him throw back his head in laughter, eyes alight, the pure line
of his throat brown from so much sun; the flex and pull of his muscles as he
drove into her, bringing her to the peak of emotional and physical joy; the
grace with which he moved. She knew she was hopelessly and irrevocably in love
with him. Damien had faded from her mind, and it remained only to sever the
link properly.

Then, on the third day she woke to find herself alone. She
could hear Jed moving around in the kitchen and tried to tell
herself
he was being kind, getting up first to make her
breakfast. But something felt wrong, some small worm of doubt that was
wriggling in her mind, and dread curled through her, stiffening her spine and
clenching her stomach.

Then he was bringing her coffee, touching her hand tenderly
as he handed her the mug, his face sombre.

‘You know there can’t be anything more than this, don’t
you?’ He sat, laid a hand on her arm, but couldn’t seem to meet her eye. ‘I
think the world of you, care for you. I feel a lot of affection for you. In
other circumstances, maybe we could have made a go of it. But I’m a bad bet,
Tamsin, I’ve had my heart broken and I don’t think I can risk it again.’

She kept her eyes down, picking at the blanket with numb
fingers, in her turn unable to look him in the face for fear he would see the
raw emotion there.

‘In a minute you’ll be saying: “it isn’t you, it’s me.’’
Could you be more clichéd?’ she said bitterly.

‘God, I’m so sorry, Tamsin. But you’ve got stuff to work
out yourself. Neither of us is ready for a relationship. Anyway, the helicopter
will be here mid morning - I’ve been telling you for days it would be today.
You’ll be going home. You won’t be stranded anymore.’

And he
had
told
her, but Tamsin had pushed it to the back of her mind, reluctant to face
reality, telling herself that, when the time came, he wouldn’t be able to let
her go. Even though he had, if she was honest with herself, been gradually
withdrawing into himself for a day now, seeming preoccupied and a little bit absent
even when he was sheathed inside her in the depths of passion.

‘Look,’ he said now, kneeling and taking her hands in his, gazing
seriously at her, ‘this time will always be special to me. You’ve given yourself
to me totally and that’s been a wonderful thing; healing, even. But the whole
situation has been artificial, with us forced together. These things never
last. It’s been like a holiday romance, really intense and unrealistic. If we
carried on seeing each other, we would soon find there was no real basis for
being together beyond the sex - and even that has been heightened because of
the circumstances. Please don’t be angry with me. Wait till you’re back in your
normal life; you’ll soon forget me.’

Tamsin tried to protest, cut to the quick by his seeming
callousness, but he put a finger to her lips then drew her into his arms. She
acquiesced for a moment, held against his heart, hearing its steady rhythm.
When she tried to pull free again, he held her tighter, kissed the top of her
head, then trailed his lips down her throat to her breasts, where he captured
each peak in turn, lathing them with his tongue, rousing the familiar fire that
leapt so readily between them, massaging her naked back, running his fingers
through the silken strands of her hair, then pulling her tighter against him,
plunging his pulsing length into her hot, damp centre, moving slowly and
tenderly till the honeyed sweetness that ebbed and flowed within her began to push
all other thoughts from her mind. But at the moment of absolute surrender, when
her body seemed to open like the petals of a rose to draw him deeper, a voice
within her said that this would be the last time, and as she came, a storm of
weeping shook her. He held her after, stroking her hair from her face, wiping
her tears away with his thumb, kissing her brow.

Then they were getting up, washing,
eating
breakfast. The morning melted away, and all too soon she heard the steady
hammer of the approaching helicopter, then it was coming into sight, filling
the horizon - her nemesis - not a small vehicle but enormous, long, like a
troop carrier. It hovered over the flat ground beyond the Hermitage, scattering
the chickens and making the goats bleat with panic. One after another, pieces
of equipment were lowered - cans of petrol, tents, a spare tyre for the Land
Rover, then boxes of food. Tamsin watched it all, her mind numb and her heart
sinking.

Finally the craft itself landed and the rotors were still.
Jed went out to meet it, waving as the door of the cockpit opened and a burly,
red haired man in jeans and leather jacket stepped down. Tamsin watched their
greetings and then heard Jed say, ‘
You
’ve got a
passenger for the return trip. The radio’s fucked, or I would have let you know.’
He beckoned to Tamsin, and she reluctantly went to meet the pilot, finding a
smile and holding out her hand as Jed said, ‘
This
is
Tamsin Smith. Pretty hard to believe, but the storm last week washed her up
here. Tamsin, this is Greg Stewart. He’ll take you back to the mainland.’

But as Greg gripped her hand in greeting, the cockpit
opened again and a young woman stepped down, looking confidently around her.
She was petite and blonde, hair reaching to her waist, and was dressed in a no nonsense
manner with a thick, dark green sweater under an olive parka, her long legs
clad in tough leather boots. Tamsin heard Jed’s intake of breath and turned to
him. A look of absolute longing had crossed his face and he started forward.
‘Fi!’ he said, holding a hand out towards the newcomer.

After that things seemed to speed up. They all went back
into the Hermitage for coffee, during which Fi announced that she’d decided to
come over early, taking Harvey’s place, (whoever Harvey was, thought Tamsin bitterly).
From the looks Fi kept casting at Jed, it was obvious that the sub-plot was
that she’d decided to give their relationship another go. Tamsin couldn’t bear
to look at either of them and was glad when Greg announced that they needed to be
on their way.

Then Jed was handing her up into the helicopter, his hand
firm on her arm, his lips brushing her cheek in farewell. She was still wearing
her borrowed sweater and boots and was empty handed, so little had survived her
misadventure in the sea. It was as if she had brought nothing with her and was
taking almost nothing away. Then, within moments it seemed, she was sitting
clutching her hands together in her lap over her seatbelt as the craft lifted
off, the thunder of its rotors thudding though her body in time to the thumping
of her heart. She looked down as they rose vertically and swung around, the
Hermitage roof just below them, Fi and Jed waving, their bodies foreshortened
and becoming smaller as the helicopter gained height. The last she saw of Jed
was as he turned to go back inside, his arm around
Fi’s
waist.

Tamsin craned her neck to catch a last glimpse of the
island. She could see the whole of it and was aware, for the first time, of how
tiny it was. There was the stone circle, distorted by distance, and the white
beaches where the surf washed in. The Hermitage was a doll’s house, the bath
place a toddler’s paddling pool beyond which miniature cliffs encompassed the
cove, the seabird colony clear when seen from above, gulls flapping in panic
and swirling into the air as the downdraught from the rotors hit them. Yet it
was the most magical place on earth to her, and she was leaving it forever.

Although the headphones she’d been given to insulate her
from the roar of the turning blades had a radio, she answered Greg’s chatter
briefly as he asked her how she’d landed up here and where she was going.

‘Is there anyone we can contact for you when we land?’ he
asked, turning to her with a smile. ‘I understand your personal possessions
were washed overboard.’

Tamsin shook her head. ‘There’s a phone in my aunt’s
cottage: I’ll ring my parents and ask them to collect me.’

Greg nodded and smiled again. Then, minutes later they were
flying over Land’s End, heading for
Gullwatch
headquarters just outside Falmouth.

‘You’ll need to fill in some details for the flight log,
like your name and address,’ Greg told her, ‘and then I can run you back to
Polgorrow
; it’s on my way home.’ Then they were dropping
through the air, the sheds and buildings of
Gullwatch
looming closer.

After that, everything was a blur: signing the flight log,
(with her parents’ address since she couldn’t live with Damien now), drinking a
cup of coffee, climbing into Greg’s car for the trip to her aunt’s place.
Tamsin was numbed to her core, tears not far away and yet seeming impossible in
the bleak, frozen waste of her deadened emotions.

Then at last she was alone, her phone call to her parents
over, Greg driving away. All she could do was drag herself like a wounded
animal up to bed, where she slept for the three solid hours till her folks
arrived.