Taking Flight (4 page)

She could hear Marcus breathing in the darkness as he patted about, trying to find the candles and supply bag they’d stored. Finally, a match struck and flared and Marcus lit a candle. It flickered over his strained face and Deborah had the biggest instinct to reach out and caress him with her fingertips, but he turned quickly and urged her on through the short passage that would lead them to their freedom or doom.

Footsteps banged about overhead, causing dust and debris to spatter sickeningly on them. Each drop felt like the touch of a captor and the adrenalin and nerves were becoming unbearable. Ducking down, they squeezed into the air vent that would bring them out behind a bush.

“Hurry up!” Deborah thought she was going to pass out or vomit, or both, and lurched through the hole as soon as Marcus’s foot was through.

The night was the velvety black kind; a blanket of complete darkness swathed across them, muffling everything. It was eerily silent outside after the fearful shouting and crashing inside the house. They’d prepared for all eventualities and had stored clothing suitable for their escape in the shed just a few meters away. It seemed like miles to Deborah, who couldn’t recall whether the security light still worked or not. Surely it would have been one of the first things they’d forfeited in the energy rationing?

She held her breath and closed her eyes as Marcus grabbed her hand and pulled her from their hiding place and out onto the exposed lawn. She just ran, trusting he would lead the way. Three steps, four, five; there was no click, no sudden flood of light, and she was yanked down behind the shed. She sat there shivering as Marcus crept inside and brought out the bag with clothing and blankets.

“Quick,” he whispered. “We need to get as much of this on as we can and go—it will be cold out there.”

She fought with the bundle of fabric he’d thrown her, her hands fumbling at laces and socks as she tried to pull them on over her cold, bare feet. The yawning gasp of tears that had been threatening since they’d heard the first knock on the door now dripped from Deborah.

“I can’t do it,” she wailed, feeling utterly pathetic. She’d always thought when the time came she’d be strong, capable, organized, and yet there she was, struggling with a sock. “I can’t stop shaking.”

Marcus quickly finished tying his shoes and threw on the rest of his clothing before crouching before Deborah.

“You’re in shock,” he said tenderly, helping her to dress. “Take some deep breaths.”

He held her hard by the shoulders and stared into her eyes; she could just make out the gleam of his eyes in the darkness. He buttoned up her thick coat and pulled her to a standing position. She felt the blood drop into her feet, leaving a hollow iciness in its wake. Her legs began to give way but Marcus held her fast.

“You need to get it together, Deb,” he said gruffly, shaking her hard. But it was no good; the wooziness was making her into a rag doll. He released one shoulder and smacked her hard on the cheek. It was instant. The clatter and sting pulled her from her stupor and snapped her back into the here and now.

“What the…” She scowled, but was relieved to be back. The heat on her cheek left her strangely invigorated and she grabbed Marcus’s hand with new determination. “Come on.”

They made ready and peeked out from behind the shed to see every light in their house on and their belongings being scattered everywhere in the search. Deborah winced as she caught sight of the back door handle turning.

“Now!” he said.

They ran as fast as they could toward the garden fence and clambered clumsily over it onto the rough road beyond. They lived on the very brink of the town, where it met the countryside, and Deborah gave thanks over and over again like a mantra as they scrambled across the empty road and into the cover of the trees.

Twigs and branches ripped and tore at their faces, hair, and clothing as they kept running to who knew where. It was as if the terror and adrenalin had given them new speed and stamina, and they kept going until Marcus tripped and fell on a root in a small clearing. Deborah fell after him, and he caught her in a strong embrace. His heart battered through his layers of clothing and his body was shaking. At first, Deborah thought he was crying and began to comfort him, but he released her and lay back on the forest floor, laughing.

“We made it!” he panted, clutching at his chest.

Deborah knelt up and tried to catch her breath as her shoulders heaved and her lungs burned. Euphoria began to overtake her as the adrenalin subsided and she let her head fall back, staring up into the canopy of trees just visible in silhouette against the dark sky above. Kneeling there in the damp undergrowth, a new vigor and excitement for life bubbled in the pit of her abdomen.

Lifting her hand, she stroked her cheek where Marcus had struck her. It was still warm, and she smiled as he eased himself up and knelt beside her. He lurched toward her and kissed her with a ferocious hunger she hadn’t witnessed before. It was a feral passion and she responded instantly, devouring him back with searing kisses. He roughly pulled her layers of clothing apart, hands raking her body, greedy with lust. She tore at his, grabbing the button of his jeans, and was amazed at the strength of his hard-on beneath the thick denim. He was so rigid there was barely space in his crotch to pull down his zipper. Her clothes were open and her breasts exposed to the night, and he staggered to his feet, pulling her up as he went, while she still battled to release him.

At last she managed to free his thick shaft from his jeans, out into her hands. He pushed her fingers away and grabbed at her behind, lifting her up easily with new strength. She’d only managed to pull on a woolen skirt and he yanked it up over her hips as he carried her toward the trunk of the closest tree. He slammed her against it, kissing her mouth, chin, jaw, neck, then breasts, suckling her, nibbling her, taking great mouthfuls of flesh and biting into her. Every hair on her body stood to attention with the arousal and fear that he was going to eat her alive.

Her mouth watered for him too, and she tried to pry his face back up to hers for a taste of his deliciousness. He gave it up to her, taking her tongue and wrestling it with his. The wetter their mouths became, the damper she felt between her legs. Her pussy was hot and plump with want, and he curled a finger from under her buttocks and dipped it into her dripping folds. A throaty groan moved from his mouth to hers and he withdrew his tongue, leaving her lips feeling empty and bruised.

The rough bark grazed at her back where her clothes had ridden up, and memories of the slap played over in her mind. Her pussy flooded with more juices as he pressed her harder into the tree with legs wrapped around him, open to him, beckoning him. He wriggled his hips, letting the jeans slip down a little while he kept a good grip, supporting her. Without another sound, he thrust his cock into her swollen cunt. She let out a yelp of joy and he smothered it with his forearm, keeping her weight jammed into the tree with the force of his fucking.

“Shh,” he warned in a thick, lusty whisper, and Deborah melted into the beginnings of an orgasm enhanced by panic, fear, and excitement.

Her senses were so alert she could feel every tug and pull at her pussy walls, and each thrust built her desire further as she clenched and bucked with his rhythm. A breeze whipped up some of the leaves around his ankles and roused her passion even more. She was overtaken by the nature within her and around her; she was pure instinct, and that thought took her into the eye of the storm. Her orgasm thrashed and beat with the force of a thousand gales around her and she observed it make its coiling way around until, suddenly, Marcus roared, and her climax broke through, crashing over her like a monsoon as he came inside her, thrusting and lashing. Her pussy convulsed around him, wave upon wave of pleasure washing over her until he softened and slid out of her.

He lowered her onto the dank earth, placing his coat beneath her. They wrapped themselves up in each other and fell into that deep sleep of satisfaction, completely removed from place or circumstance.

Chapter 5

Deborah woke up shivering and aching. Dawn was softly creeping in, misting the black night into a hazy blue. She sat up rubbing her legs and arms, trying to beat some warmth into her damp bones as the dawn chorus roared in her ears.

“What a bloody noise,” she said to herself, staring up into the treetops in an attempt to see the source of the incredible sound.

Chirping, whistling, tweeting birdsong surrounded them, but the birds were completely camouflaged by the forest. It was a loud, yet eerie way to start the day. Deborah had been so absorbed that she had, for a moment or two, forgotten where they were or why. Memories of the banging and running flashed before her, and she hugged her knees up to her chest, looking over to Marcus. His forehead was creased in a soft frown that twitched at the noise of the loudest tweets. She wondered what he was dreaming about. What did the birdsong conjure in his sleeping brain? She didn’t really want to disturb him, but he had all the blankets and coats tucked around and under him, looking decidedly snug compared to her.

“Move over, blanket hog,” she said, nudging him and tugging out some of the covers.

He stirred and blinked open his eyes, looking pale and tired. “My head…” He rubbed his temples and flopped back, rolling to the side a little to let Deborah cozy in beside him, trying to steal some of his warmth.

The blankets were damp, and Deborah knew how stupid they’d been not finding a proper place to bed down—or at least use the sheet of plastic they’d brought as a barrier against the dewy earth. It had got light very quickly and while she could do with another five hours’ sleep, Deborah was pleased to see dapples of sunshine breaking through the branches. At least they would be able to dry off when the sun rose properly. For now, though, she tried to content herself in the crook of Marcus’s arm and listened to morning break.

They must have fallen into a deep sleep, because the next thing Deborah was aware of was a shaft of sun beating right onto her face, almost burning her. She turned away, blinking, and guessed by the angle of the ray that it must be late morning. Marcus woke too, looking a little better than before.

“I’m so thirsty,” he croaked, fumbling with the bag that contained their emergency supplies. “Oh God, tell me we packed water.”

Deborah could see panic rise in his face. She took the bag from him, finding the canteen and passing it over. He took a good, long glug and passed it back. Deborah tipped her head and let the water run into her mouth, savoring the feeling of absorbing every drop, refreshing her like an elixir.

“Do you think we’re far enough into the forest?” she asked, raking her fingers through his tousled hair, picking out bits of leaf debris.

“I’ve got no idea,” he said and smiled for the first time. “We could be right back where we started for all I know.”

“You don’t think they’ll track us with dogs or anything like that, do you?” Deborah had read stories of men who had tried to escape their duty at the manors being rounded up by packs of sniffer dogs and brought to justice. The thought chilled her and she suddenly felt vulnerable and emotional. “What the hell are we doing here?” She sank back beside him, hiding her face in his chest, and he stroked her shoulder.

“Oh, come on, we always knew this might happen. They’re not going to send any dogs out to find us.” He ruffled her hair and kissed her lightly. “We’re not important enough for that. I’m infertile, remember?”

The speech did little to reassure her. Her blood ran cold with the realization. “But I am. I’m important. They’ll come looking for me.” She lifted her face to his. “As long as you’re with me you’re in danger.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He pressed her head back onto his chest and cradled it there. “We’re sticking together whatever happens, so don’t get any stupid ideas.”

They lay like that a little longer, until Marcus’s stomach rumbled, disturbing the peace. They took out the non-perishable foodstuffs they’d brought with them—biscuits and crisps making up the bulk of it. It seemed desperately unappealing while they were surrounded by the lush greenery of the forest.

“We’d better open a packet,” said Deborah, picking up some crisps. “I’m not ready to kill any rabbits just yet, are you?”

Marcus winced at the thought, and Deborah had the feeling that their diet might become a little more vegetarian than they were used to.

When they’d eaten and got their bearings a little, Marcus took the compass and suggested they go north, further into the woodland. Deborah could do little else but agree; she knew he’d studied maps and made strategies for this while she’d worked. Even in the very short time they’d been gone, her research had come to seem like a distant memory and her work a futile waste of energy. This was her life now—a life on the run, a life with her lover. She had to dismiss any hope of going back in order to survive the here and now.

She followed behind Marcus, reminding herself to take in her surroundings every now and then instead of staring incessantly at the hypnotic gait of his heels as they trod through the undergrowth. The forest was truly beautiful, mainly oak and silver birch filling it up. They must have been walking for at least a couple of hours when Marcus stopped her.

“Shh.” He reached back, halting her with his palm, “Listen.”

In the distance was a rhythmic cracking sound, biting into the air. Almost like a twig snapping underfoot but not quite. It was followed every now and then by a whimper. Deborah froze. The acoustics of the forest were oppressive, yet oddly echoed the noise. It seemed to ricochet off the bark of the tree trunks and bounce right to them. She could tell Marcus was intrigued and he started moving, more cautiously this time, palming the branches as he went, being careful not to let them spring back in her face. As they moved closer to the sound, they reached a small incline. They got down on their bellies and crawled to the brow, which descended into a natural birch-lined amphitheater. Deborah held her breath and stared at the sight before her.