His to Claim (5 page)

She shifted to rise from her bed only to get a sting of discomfort between her legs to detonate a reel of tableaus from the disaster of the night before.

Stilled, stunned, she gazed at the plain ceiling overhead, unblinking.

It’s done. No woman could have contributed so avidly, so foolishly in her own destruction as she had. She knew what one more time with Trevor would do to her.
She knew!

When Trevor had first made love to her so long ago, it wasn’t just her body with him that day, but her very soul. And when he hurt her, it was her soul he shattered.

Chip by chip of that soul Elaine had glued herself together, fearing if she ever had to go through that again, she would never survive it. So, the only recourse left was to forge her vulnerability into a blade of hatred.

But fetters of reason snapped like twigs last evening when his hot, proud member had claimed a part of her womanhood which had only ever belonged to one man, to him, to Trevor McBain.

No amount of mental blocking was enough to prevent the flood of scenes vividly screening before her eyes, showing her brutally the naked urgency with which she had wanted the man who had for ever left a gaping hole in her life.

The degrading realisation of her erroneous action debilitated her so profoundly, that knees digging into her chest Elaine curled in misery.

Empty bed, and silence of an empty apartment clamoured in her ears.

She was urgently, desperately trying to build a wall against some heavy pressure that threatened to swamp her. Elaine
needed
that rampart to keep her sanity.

But then, a tiny bird landing on her windowsill tweeted in the dead of quiet, putting a fissure in the wall she had been raising, rendering it to fall apart against the full force of a flood waiting on the other side.

Inundated, Elaine was now forced to face the truth of how much she still pined for him. Emotions she had futilely fought to deny this long slipped onto her pillow in tears of dejection.

She loved him. Yes, she loved Trevor.

There was no way she could keep on fooling herself with rubbish such as ‘all he had ever been to her was an ill-advised, destructive, silly crush’.

The agony of the pain swarming her now was double the strength of what it had been, for knowing that this time she had brought it on herself. After all, Elaine was no longer the naïve teenager of seven years ago.

Trevor had always had her heart. She could still clearly see the day that brought Trevor McBane into her life.

The day events took a turn to descend to this moment. The day she still cursed with everything that ever meant something to her.

Lying curled in misery, her eyes unfocused, a deluge of past swept her away from the present.

*****

CHAPTER 6

S
even
Y
ears
E
arlier

“T
his is your new home.” Mrs. McBain pridefully led Elaine into her kingly abode.

Everything there shone with elegance, and smelt of wealth.

The chandelier above the girl’s head had chunks of sun dangling from each golden arm. And the white walls surrounding it were adorned with beautiful beige patterns.

Tribute that Elaine’s shy and anxious amber eyes were paying to the house’s magnificence paused over a large mirror laid in an impressive designer frame.

There was one, in the beauty all around, who stood out like a sore thumb, she. Elaine with her hair messed from wind, shabby sneakers, and worn clothes–cleverly patched in two different places.

At least they were clean, and just her size. They were the best from what little she owned. Clothes that were donated to children’s home mostly had outfits more in size with the younger kids.

Looking in that mirror, Elaine studied from her pale white complexion to the woman standing beside her decked in all finery with a lovely tan.

Working indoors, helping in the orphanage with the younger children, had hardly ever given Elaine the opportunity to enjoy sunshine. But she could bet this woman hadn’t seen much of the sun either. The ruddy glow seemed more achieved through cans, or tanning beds.

It was her pristine dressing and cool demeanour that Mrs. McBain didn’t come across as someone who allowed grains of beach sand to stick between her toes, let alone pepper her immaculate French bun.

Elaine was brought to this house by a trick of fate. Fate that militated Mrs. McBain to visit the children’s home with a coterie of other society women and a swarm of reporters following their tails to snap outstanding pictures and write equally glorious reports on their magnanimous hearts and generosity.

That day, Elaine had been assigned the task of minding the little ones so they appeared perfect little angels for that perfect shot.

After the flashes came the shower of questions from the journalists.

One enquired if Mrs. McBain, being the head of the charity organisation she ran, ever considered opening the doors of her own home to a less fortunate child?

Snickers masked in coughing burst within the clique of women standing behind her, inducing sparks of indignation shooting in her eyes.

But then, with admirable practice Mrs. McBain tugged her flattened lips into a smile and announced with all semblance of pride and complacency that the girl in brown top and grey skirt had already been welcomed into her benevolent and distinguished family. It was just the formalities of proper procedure holding the McBains from taking her home sooner.

Elaine was curious to see who among the little ones was wearing the colours the lady described. With a quizzical frown she noted no one. When she looked up, it was with some surprise, that she found the lady asking
her
to tell everyone her name.

“I hope you like it here, Elaine.” Mrs. McBain said dispassionately, pulling at the fingertips of her glove to slip her hand out free. She signalled for the girl to follow her into a capacious sitting room. “You’ll want for nothing here.”

A large sofa in tone with the room’s expensive décor proffered Mrs. McBain a perch. She watched Elaine in contemplative silence for a long moment. “Do you know dear, that there were any number of much younger girls I could have chosen to confer, all this on.” She encompassed everything around them. “But I chose you. Can you tell me why?”

Dismissing a sound of a door slamming shut somewhere, Elaine answered with a shake of her head. “No, ma’am.”

“Ms. Tanner had a lot to say about you. It seemed to me, you were nearly indispensable there. And I wanted someone who was mature enough to understand what a big responsibility it is to be associated with the McBains. A very high standard of comportment would be expected of you. There are-”

The impassive visage Mrs. McBain had on, suddenly became grave. Her sight riveted on something far behind Elaine.

To see what, or rather who brought that change in the woman, Elaine turned on her heels. But she wasn’t prepared for the strike of blinding radiance that hit her smack in the head.

A young boy of perhaps twenty, give or take a year, stood leaning at the door. He possessed the most captivating face Elaine had ever beheld and yet…

He looked like an angel suffering ennui in all its leisure. His hair, a colour of very deep brown, was brushed back neatly with just two wayward wisps hanging over the smooth, imposing forehead as if resigned to boredom. The casual attire of a black polo shirt over khaki pants with converse on his feet gave him an air of being relaxed and impervious.

“Trey, you’re home.” Mrs. McBain rose on the balls of her feet. “You didn’t inform anyone.”

“Damian felt the need tae ‘ave one of his talks with me again.” The boy answered her with little attention, his interest lingering on Elaine.

“That’s just as well, if it brings you home. And please, mind your speech. Damian would never have slipped so before an outsider.”

If Elaine hadn’t been watching the boy closely, she wouldn’t have noted the slight rift in his impervious veneer at the woman’s reproach.

But Mrs. McBain oblivious to that shift carried on. “Come here, let me introduce you to this little lady here.” She gave a stiff nod of approval as he began abridging the distance, though at an indolent gait. “Elaine, you remember my telling you about my sons, Damian and-”

“Madam McBain..”

All three turned to the man who intervened.

“Yes, Jamison, what is it?”

The slender man at the door was dressed formally, a screened device held in one palm and a stylus pen in the other. His shoulders, touch slouched–perhaps secretary to Mrs. McBain.

“It’s time for your first appointment of the day.”

Heaving a self-important sigh Mrs. McBain said, “All right, lead me, Jamison. And kids, why don’t you talk and get to know each other. Elaine, I’ve instructed the housekeeper. She’ll be here soon to show you to your room.”

Elaine didn’t want to be left alone with the boy, even if it were for a short while.
He was so much taller than she.

Unaccustomed to being around boys, she felt unnerved.

Happy Valley had been home to two hundred and twenty seven orphaned girls. Boys weren’t a regular sight in their compound. Even so, Elaine wasn’t naïve enough to believe that many of these girls didn’t have boyfriends. Lots of them regularly sneaked out at night. It’s just that she was never into breaking rules and thus was never required to spend time in the company of the opposite sex.

Even Mr. Anderson and Mr. Denise, working in the Home’s management and finance department, kept their direct interaction with the girls brief.

Oh, why her first time talking to a boy at such close quarters had to be with one so good looking?!

Nerves wracking, she watched him coming closer. Shouldn’t he stop now? When he did, it was still a tad too close. Why was she breathing weird? Would he ask to shake hands with her?

Oh, God, her hands were cold as Ice!
Please don’t shake hands with me.

Those beautiful big blue eyes of his were frowning at her.

Did she smell?
Couldn’t be.

Female vanity insisted she lower her chin and, surreptitiously, give herself a good sniff.

In the process of ducking her head and doing just that, she heard him say, “I’m Trevor McBain.”

Trevor, a name with an edge and hint of authority in it. And all of it was depicted in the hard angles of his face.

Elaine gave a nervous crack of a smile in acknowledgement.

“Does that tongue in your mouth do its job, or is it just for keeping things wet in there?”

Elaine coloured at her gaffe. What a bumpkin he must think her. “Y..Yes, my name’s.. uhm.. it’s..”
She forgot her name!

All was blank. She was boring a hole in his black polo shirt looking for some clue that would trigger her name.

“Would you by
any
chance speak this millennium-”

Any
..A..E..El.. “Elaine! Elaine!” That’s it! Her hands smacked together in joy and excitement of having answered.

“Don’t have to shout it out.” Recovering from her too enthusiastic, loud clap, he scoffed. “But, why name yourself Elaine twice? Afraid no one will believe you’re a girl under all the rag you have on?” A dark, mean brow arched, mocking her.

Elaine didn’t like it. And liked it even less when he snorted. She was trying so hard to be friends, and he was being mean to her for no reason.

“Have you ever laid eyes on a thing called
comb
, Elaine?”

That
did it. Steel filled her spine. Trevor McBain might be the handsomest boy she had ever met, but
that
didn’t mean Elaine had given him the right to treat her so insultingly.

“With as much surprise as it may come to you, yeah, I’ve seen combs. I even own one. It’s in my bag,” she indicated a rough duffel bag lying at her feet. “Along with everything else I own.”

Elaine gave him a wry curve of her mouth that did not–by any shot–pass for a smile. “And you wanna know something else? Everything that I own has come from every little dime I have earned with my
hard work
.”

Let the pretty prince grind his teeth on that.

So only half of the bag’s contents were earned from her sweat, rest was goodwill charity for which she was ever thankful. But she
did
earn her keep at the orphanage. Girls who wanted to work could lend hands in making quilts, cards, candles, key-chains, all of which the Home later sold to bring in additional financial aid.

The razor fine lines of his jaws hardened. His smug conceit having been lambasted, he glared at her openly. Trevor was no longer trying to hide his dislike of her. And his next snide revealed his true perception of her.

“You are the trash inside, you look on the out.”

This wasn’t the first time Elaine heard herself called
that.
But for some inexplicable reason, coming from him it ripped her the worst–having her question herself if there weren’t some truth in it?

Did not knowing who her parents are made her less than others?

And for instilling such doubts in her, Elaine detested Trevor McBain.

Although oddly, she utterly disliked detesting him. If only he apologised, things could start anew. She had wanted so much to be his friend.

Chin high, Elaine waited, giving him ample time to ask for her forgiveness.

But looking his lofty eye down on the trash, he strutted his way out.

*****