He was out walking on the moors. Yesterday, he had left soon after returning to the mansion from church. He had changed and was on his way out when he ran into Sable. After their little exchange, he walked out of the door and didn’t return until well after two in the morning. He stripped and climbed into bed. It took a while for him to fall asleep.
It was after nine when he stirred. After a quick shower, he went down for breakfast. His father and Sable had already had theirs. When he was finished, he went popped his head into the study to say hello and goodbye to his father. He had no idea where Sable was and he didn’t want to run into her. He went up to his room, brushed his teeth and grabbing his car keys, he left for the office.
It was a busy Monday and the hours went by very quickly. Soon, he was on his way back to the mansion. He went straight up to his room and changed. Then, he headed out, striding briskly across the manicured lawns towards the moors. He loved being there. It reminded him of Wuthering Heights and Sherlock Holmes and the Hound of the Baskervilles. On a bright sunny, the moors were inviting but on a foggy or misty day, it emanated an uneasy sense of foreboding.
It was a beautiful early evening. The sun was still shining brightly, casting its light on the purple bell shaped Heather which covered the open moorland. Underneath his feet, it felt like a thick and bushy carpet. Sometimes, it was used as a bed when he and Sable made love in the spring and summer. Sable. His expression changed as he thought about her.
Why couldn’t she be a middle-aged woman or in her seventies like his father? Then, he wouldn’t be attracted to her at all. To him, she would be the woman who had married his father and a second mother to him. Why did Sable have to be a beautiful, sexy and desirable woman? Why did she inflame him, making him sin against God and his father? Why was it so hard to resist her?
He shoved his clenched fists in the pockets of his trousers and expelled his breath in a noisy, self-defeating sigh. He started when he heard her call his name. Swinging around, he watched as she approached him, her luxurious blond curls blowing about her face. A tense expression came over his face. “What are you doing here?” he asked when she reached him.
“I saw you leave and knew that you had come here.”
“I came here because I wanted to be alone.”
“Where did you go last night?” she demanded.
“Where did you go?”
“I went to London.”
“What did you do there?”
“I drove around. Then, I had lunch because I was hungry. Then, I drove around some more.”
“Were you alone?”
“What time did you come home?”
“After two in the morning.”
She glared at him. “And you expect me to believe that you spent all that time driving around London?”
“I didn’t say that I spent all that time driving around.”
“What else did you do, then?”
“Why the third degree?”
“Why are you evading the question?”
“I’m not evading the question.”
“Why didn’t you come home for dinner?”
“I didn’t want to.”
“Why not? Your father was wondering where you were and I didn’t know what to tell him. Why did you run off like that, Layne?”
“I needed to get out of there.”
“What you really mean is that you wanted to get away from me. You heard that sermon and you felt guilty.”
“Yes, I felt guilty. I’m that man the minister spoke about. I’m sleeping with my father’s wife.”
“I understand that you feel badly about what we’re doing. We never meant for anything to happen between us. We tried our best to keep our relationship familial but we couldn’t fight our attraction for each other. The more we tried to fight it the more impossible it became until…”
“Until, we gave into temptation and we’ve been giving in for about two years now.”
“We’ve been careful.”
“Yes, we’ve been sneaking around and so far, no one suspects anything.”
“What do you want us to do, Layne?”
“I want us to end our affair–“
“Sable, we can’t continue like this. It’s wrong and you know it.”
“It’s wrong to deny how we feel about each other. It’s wrong to ask me to stop loving you. To stop wanting you. It’s like asking me to stop breathing, Layne. I’d rather die if I can’t be with you anymore.”
“You don’t mean that–“
“Oh, yes, I do. I love you and I want to be with you. Don’t ask me to walk away from what we have–to give you up. I can’t and I won’t.”
“What about my father, Sable? You’re his wife. The Bible says that a wife belongs to her husband just as a husband belongs to his wife–“
“I belong to you. We belong to each other like Heathcliff and Cathy belonged to each other. You’re me and I’m you, Layne. We’re each other’s soul and we can’t live without our souls.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Yes, I do, with all my heart and soul. Please don’t ask me to give you up, Layne. Please…” She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist.
At first he stood there, stiff and unyielding but the feel of her body pressing against him proved to be too much for him. Groaning, he reached up and grabbing a fistful of the soft curls, he yanked her head back until she was staring wide eyed up into his flushed face. His stormy eyes met hers briefly before his head swooped down and his mouth sought hers.
Source: North York Moors