Page 74 of Delicious Surrender
As soon as Brynne walked in, she could smell her aunt’s distinctive scent. For years she wore Bal à Versailles. She used to say it was a perfume created to attract a man, with the right mix of floral elements blended with sandalwood, leather, and sex. She would respond rather haughtily to anyone who questioned the choice, “If it’s good enough for Elizabeth Taylor and Bianca Jagger, it’s good enough for me.” Brynne always thought it smelled like warm caramel and spices.
Memories of the last time they were together in this sanctuary by the sea came flooding back. Josie was her hero and had been since the day she welcomed the remote, angry little girl into her home so many summers ago. She was an independent,financially self-sufficient woman who didn’t need a man to complete her. Unlike her own mother, she was thoughtful, nurturing, and she loved children. She was comfortable by herself, which was good, because writing was a solitary pursuit, especially in this remote part of Skye. Josie never wanted to come back to London or Edinburgh. She’d say, “Those people are gray and colorless, Brynnie. They dress in blue suits every day, ride the tube to work, come home and stare at the TV, until the next day when they do it again. Don’t ever be one of those.”
Brynne would reply, “No way Auntie, I’m going to be an adventurer like you!”
Even though she loved living in the Highlands, she traveled around the world countless times. Josephine Lamond did countless book signing tours, African safaris, Southeast Asia island getaways, spa retreats in Switzerland, ice hotels in Norway, and cruises to Greece and Italy. She went abroad every year for at least two months to replenish her imagination for her books.
Josie renovated the one-and-a-half-story crofter’s cottage when she first came to Skye. She added a second bedroom and bath on the main floor and created a laundry and mudroom. In the harsh light of day, Brynne saw it looked rather tired. She considered how long her aunt was unwell, and guilt swept over her at not visiting more in the last few years.
Declan interrupted her thoughts. “There are a couple of letters on the kitchen table for you. I’m going to take a walk, and I’ll run the car so you can have time to yourself.”
“Thanks, Declan.”
She went up to Josie’s second-floor retreat and sat in thecozy window seat that overlooked Cuillin Sound. The sky was moody and dark, like her thoughts. She wasn’t ready to stay here tonight, especially if this was where Josie died. She would ask Declan.
Brynne believed steadfastly in the soul and the Universe and Heaven and destiny. She wondered, not for the first time, if Josie messed with her destiny. Then again, perhaps she was supposed to leave with dignity and intention.
Hopefully the letter would help her understand.
Dear Brynnie, my love,
I am sorry that I didn’t tell you of my impending demise. There was nothing anybody could do, so I decided the only course of action was to depart before the illness could overwhelm me. The end would be ugly, and I was having none of that.
Don’t you dare think that I gave in without a fight. I sought second, third, and fourth opinions. I investigated treatments from all the best minds in medicine, but this disease had too tight a hold on me and my important bits. While I still had my faculties, I knew I had to get my house in order.
You know I wanted you to have this little hideaway. Whether you live here full-time or only spend the summers, it will be your bolt hole when the world gets to be too much. Just promise me you won’t ever stop living, writing, loving, traveling, and adventuring.
By now you have read my will and you’re pissed off. Good. That is the reaction I wanted. I intended it to snap you out of your melancholy and into another primal emotion.That’s not to say I didn’t mean it. I chose those conditions—and in time, you will understand why.
Repairs need to be made to the house. I’ve let things go the last few years. But you can fix it up to suit yourself. This is the place where I wrote my best stuff: the wildness of the sea, the howling winds, the rain you’ll swear has teeth. They all kept me sharp, and they will do the same for you. Just don’t underestimate Mother Nature. She can be a fickle bitch in any season.
By now, you’re probably wondering where I did it and how. Please rest easy knowing my spirit was carried swiftly away by gusts from The Minch to the North Atlantic. I took a conglomeration of pills, wrapped myself in a blanket, and sat at the firepit. It was one of my favorite places on this earth because of the times we shared. When you sit there, I will always be in the chair beside you. No, I won’t haunt you, dearest. I hope I can float in when you need me. And when you bring a man around, I promise not to stick around and watch!
I love you, my Brynnie. You were, in every way, the daughter I always wanted. God brought you to me when we were both lost, and you were a gift that enriched my life.
Live life juicy, my peach!
xoxo Josie.
Tears traced a path down Brynne’s face and dripped onto the page. She felt some measure of comfort knowing she couldn’t have changed the outcome. Josie died outside, in her favorite spot, not in the house. That thoughtful decision was one of many her aunt planned to ensure Brynne was okay.
She put the letter back in the envelope and noticed the writing on the second:Do Not Open for 8 Weeks.
Brynne shook her head. Josie was still orchestrating mystery and intrigue from the great beyond. She went in search of a tissue to blow her nose and rescued Declan from hanging around waiting for her. She would spend one more night at the hotel, then come to the house tomorrow.
Thunder and lightning began their heavy metal concert around three a.m. Gage loved the penthouse, but there was no escape from the deafening sounds of an intense spring storm. He normally slept deeply, but tonight he had lain awake for hours.
He was not easily shocked, but Brynne managed to surprise him. She set out to convince him, and by god, that blow job was bloody amazing. It was more remarkable because she didn’t seem very experienced. Then again, maybe he was losing his ability to read women. He had been totally wrong about Sierra. Could he be off base regarding Brynne, too? When she returned, he would find out what she was made of—and how far she would go in her pursuit of BDSM knowledge. Whether it was in business or personally, he prided himself on discovering what a person’s true motives were. Brynne remained a mystery.
It felt like he had just dozed off when the alarm jolted him awake. Then he realized it wasn’t an alarm. His phone was ringing.
“What the bloody hell?” he groaned as he stretched to reach the night table. He glanced at the screen.
“Garrick, what’s going on? Is the club on fire or something?”
“No, but this could be just as bad.”
Garrick never got rattled, but his voice sounded off. Gage sat up, a sense of foreboding coming over him. “What the fuck is it?”