Chapter 2: The intruder

Barely had they left the highway, memories almost immediately came flooding back to Bella as the cab passed one familiar road after the other. Few houses had changed radically over the passt five years, Mrs Wentworth's front yard down the corner still stood out as a fabulous oasis with a variety of orchids and exotic flowers that had certainly no natural right to bloom in the chilly spring weather.

As the distance between the familiar buildings grew, so seemed to do the tight feeling she was developing in her chest. The houses of the neighborhood turned into a mute welcome committee, each of them standing as a mile stone of her childhood she barely felt worthy of glancing at as the cab started to climb up the hill of their dead end street.

Minutes later it was gone. She was standing on her. There was no glass window to hide behind anymore, Bella realized, gazing up at the white walls of the two story house, bathed in the soft, warm glow of the midday sun. Colorful tulips stood gracefully tall along the short stone way, shaded by giant oak trees on both sides and leading straight up to the front door. Even the high pitched ding-dong of the bell hadn't changed. Everything seemed to match her memories, the familiarity of the scene putting her mind at ease and making her oddly comfortable despite the circumstances. It felt simply safe, familiar and warm. Like home.

Tugging at the bell for a second time in vain Bella shrugged and started to fish for her keys in her purse. Martha must have gone shopping and forgotten about the time. The idea seemed highly unlikely for her though, since her aunt had always requested for lunch to be served at 12 am sharp. Turning the key in the lock Bella felt her heart grow heavy again, the changes of life didn't seem to spare her home either.

Dragging her luggage over the threshold she took a look around, smiling at the old housekeeper's thoughtfulness as she spotted the small table in the hallway that was decorated with fresh white tulips, her aunt's favorite flowers. She walked around downstairs enjoying the warm and familiar feeling that radiated from the living room. Her gaze travelled over a selection of beloved family pictures and came to rest upon a few landscapes that seemed to reflect the floral mood of their area yet were unfamiliar to her eyes. The whole house seemed spotless and yet lived in, bearing the touch of the remarkably caring perfectionist she remembered Martha to be.

Leaving her suitcase downstairs she climbed up the wooden staircase, spotting more Acryl paintings that she didn't remember, most of them picturing simply a bouquet of flowers, barley fields, an ocean sunset or other nature related topics. She walked passt the closed door of the master bedroom that used to be Catherine's. Part of her wanted to believe that she was inside there, just taking a nap after lunch and by the time she had settled in, her aunt would wake up and welcome her home with a radiant smile and a loving embrace. She glanced back at her door before entering her own childhood room and noted with disappointment that it remained closed.

Surprised to find that her room had been changed into what she suspected to be a guest room, she looked around curiously and ended up rather shocked. The walls that once had been pale yellow with tiny blue flowers scattered all over them carried now a quiet daring shade of violet. The furniture had been moved completely and was replaced by a large four poster bed that had clearly become the eye catching center of the room. There stood a brand new drawer chest, ebony in color with a few big white candles providing a strong contrast to it, and a matching dark dresser with a small chair completing the ensemble.

The fact that her aunt had practically irradiated her presence and belongings from her home tugged at her heart yet she was left fairly little time to bask in her disappointment as she spotted the two dark framed, eye popping paintings that seemed to reign the room. They were placed right opposite each other: above the bed and at the far wall.

Bella swallowed, feeling her cheeks heating even by simply starring at the black and white artwork. Both presented explicit and highly graphic scenes. Her eyes grew wide as they took in the picture above the violet oriental style embroidered cushions that were decorating the bed covers. Shadows fell mysteriously on a nude couple, entwined in the tores of passion. Facing each other they were kissing with hunger evident in their features, their muscles tensed by the powerful embrace of lust they seemed engaged in on the rumpled sheets. Her attention fell upon the man in the picture, his strong masculine facial features seemed nicely counterbalanced by his high cheekbones and his unrealistically long lashes resting on flushed cheeks. His lips looked perfectly kissable, as far as she could judge, his silky hair just long enough for the woman to curl her fingers around a few strands as she seemed to forcefully pull his head back to crush her tongue between his willingly parted lips.

The woman's face was partly hidden by the way her head was turned, partly shadowed in the picture, but Bella couldn't help to admire her body language. Rubenesque would have been the artistic word for her frame, yet her body was mostly hidden behind the embrace of his muscled beauty. While the picture radiated a well balanced moment of mutual passion, there was something possessive in the way her fingers were pulling at his hair, the way her other arm was grabbing his shoulders. She seemed graceful and in control even in such a moment of complete abandon while the man's face looked almost in an ecstatic haze.

She took a deep breath and a breathy "wow" escaped her lips. When her pulse had started racing she didn't know. Dragging her eyes away from the entwined couple she focused her attention on the picture opposite from them. Done in a similar style and playing equally well with the concept of shadow and light, it presented the very same two people it seemed, but in a moment of intimacy that was apparently lacking the heat of the other, yet carried a warmth that touched Bella in a completely different way.

The man was kneeling nude in front of the woman whose body seemed partially hidden in this picture as well, although her curvy hips and thighs seemed to draw the observer's eye, especially since his well built arms were circled around her waist just above them, hugging her standing and slightly bent form close to his body. The man seemed to be leaning on her a little, his face resting on her roundish belly as he looked up at her. Even though his eyes remained closed in both pictures, his face carried a softness that spoke of adoration, gratitude and happiness in such a warm way that made Bella's heart ache with a longing desire. While the woman's face was completely hidden as she bent down, whispering something in his ear, she noticed her long hair was pulled into a messy bun, her arms holding him safe and close in a loving and caring embrace.

The young woman sighed, feeling a rush of emptiness overwhelm her heart as she looked back and forth between the two paintings. Standing between the impersonations of flaming lust and glowing love she felt suddenly very cold and started to back out of the room, her gaze still alternating between the two pictures. No, this wasn't her room anymore... neither her home, she had to admit sadly.

With tears welling up in her eyes she suddenly turned to flee the room, flee the pictures that had burnt themselves into her mind, flee the loneliness that seemed to overwhelm her heart. She just wanted to run and cry and forget about her aunt's death, that damn company, her empty and meaningless life back in Rosemount, her heart and mind crying out simultaneously, pleading with life to leave her alone and let her forget about everything!

Her vision was too blurry to see what she had run into that threw her off balance and sent her stumbling right back into the room. Her confusion only grew as she found herself starring into a pair of shimmering grey eyes, tinged with ever so tiny flecks of green. Her mouth hanging open her mind barely registered that she wasn't about to fall anymore, but was rather held in a firm grip by strong arms. Yet the realization didn't tear her from the spell of the moment she had been under.

Yes, that must have been it: bewitched! That was the only logical explanation her mind could conjure up. Why else would she be held in the arms of a ravishingly handsome naked man wondering if his impossible long lashes would tickle her lips when she kissed his eyes awake in the morning. His lips looked sensually full and inviting, a dark rosy shade contrasting with the lightly tanned skin she still could feel to be slightly moist as her fingertips caressed the soft and spars hair on his chest.