After taking a sip of the champagne, Annette finally answered Jack. “Yes, I can feel the love here, and the warmth and the happiness.” She looked deeply into his eyes, and said softly, “Thank you for this—” She broke off and looked around. “For making the room so beautiful . . . the flowers, the candles, the fire, everything. I’m very touched, Jack.”
“I’m glad about that. You see, I wanted to be alone with you, close to you, and I suddenly decided we should have a picnic here, and we will later. I have dinner for us, you know.”
She smiled at him. “Jack, you’re such a romantic, aren’t you?”
He just laughed, looking pleased and happy, and took a swallow of the champagne.
Annette said, “It must have been wonderful growing up here. It’s such a beautiful old place. One day I think I’d rather like to have a house . . . one just like this.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, as he asked, “Would you really? Would you like to own this one? I can easily buy my brother out, and you and I could live here happily ever after. How does that sound?”
If only, she thought, but said, “Oh, Jack, what a lovely thing to say, but you know that’s not possible. Not possible at all.”
“Anything’s possible if you want it enough,” he replied, and placed the flute of champagne on the coffee table. After a moment he said, “There’s something I need to tell you, Annette.”
He sounded so serious she was startled. “What is it? Is there something wrong?”
“No, no, not at all. I just want you to know that for the past year, on and off, I’ve been involved with a woman. Her name is Lucy Jameson and she lives in an old farmhouse in the hills above Beaulieu. In fact, she’s the chef I mentioned, the one I taught to make an English trifle.”
“Jack, please, I don’t need to know about this—”
“Yes, you do,” he interrupted. “Listen, since I’ve been in London I’ve been preoccupied with work, as you well know. So much so, I haven’t been in touch with her very much. In any case, I’ve always been somewhat ambivalent about her, about us together, as she has been about me. Now I know the reason why.”
“And what is that reason?”
“I’m not in love with her, and I never was. And there’s no way I can have a permanent relationship with a woman I’m not in love with. So I’m going to break it off with her. I must. It would not be fair otherwise.”
“So what kind of a relationship was it?” she asked, as usual filled with curiosity about him and his life. And suddenly filling with unexpected jealousy about this unknown woman, Lucy. She was aghast at herself, and sipped the champagne quickly, wishing she hadn’t asked him such a stupid question. She felt like a fool.
Jack said, “It was a friendship mostly, also companionship, and I liked her. Actually, I still like her. That hasn’t changed.”
“Did you sleep with her? That’s obviously a silly question, you must have.”
He glanced at her quickly, and nodded. “Yes, of course I did. But that’s not enough, sex, I mean. There’s got to be a lot more in a relationship if it’s going to work. . . . I just didn’t love her. And now I know that. Because I’m in love with you, and my feelings are overwhelming. Having the comparison makes for the truth.”
“Jack, please don’t talk like this. You hardly know me, or anything about me really. And there’s one other important thing. An enormous impediment. I’m married.”
“That I’m only too well aware of . . . Look, I want you to understand something, and it’s this. I’ve never poached another man’s woman before. I just fell in love with you the first moment I met you, and I can’t help the way I feel. Also, I believe you share my feelings. Please don’t say you don’t, because you do.”
She was silent, sat staring at him helplessly, mesmerized by him once again. He leaned into her, took her glass away. Moving closer to her, he put his arm around her shoulders, bent into her, and kissed her fully on the mouth.
She wanted to push him away, escape while it was still safe. But she found she could not. Instead she kissed him back, responding to his desire for her with the same passion and ardor he was showing. After a while they drew apart and looked at each other, and he touched her cheek with one finger and then kissed her gently on the forehead.
Jack rose, pulled her to her feet. Against her hair, he murmured, “Please come with me . . . to my old room.”
“Jack, no! We can’t! We mustn’t do this! It can only lead to heartache. Trouble.”
“Please, Annette. Please.”
She did not answer. She just stood there staring at him, frozen in front of him, so terribly frightened she could not move.
The light was dim.
She stood there in the middle of the room, perfectly still, filled with dread. How had she gotten here? Jack had led her upstairs, of course, slowly, gently, coaxing her, persuading her, guiding her up the staircase as if she were a fragile thing about to break, his arm around her waist.
And so here she was. Finally. Standing in the room where he had grown up. Familiar to him but not to her. But he himself was familiar after the time they’d spent together.
She trusted him. There was something about him that made her feel safe. And yet she was frightened . . . not only of the future but of what was going to happen next. Between the two of them. She endeavored to push the dread away, keep panic at bay, but was not very successful.
“It’s better with the curtains open,” he said, startling her, making her jump nervously. She had been so concentrated on her own thoughts and her apprehension that she had been in a kind of trance. Momentarily.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice taut, sounding huskier than ever. It was her nervousness; she was aware of that.
“With the curtains open you can see the tops of the trees in the garden, and the sky above. The stars and the moon. When I was a little boy I used to lie in bed, staring at the sky sometimes. . . .” His voice trailed off, and he opened the draperies covering the third and last window in the room.
He swung around, staring at her for a split second, and then he walked over to her, took her hand in his, and drew her over to the windows.
“It’s a beautiful night, darling, isn’t it?” he said. “A night for us to be together at last.”
She ignored his comment, but she had no option but to look out the window, and when she saw that he was right about the view, she said, “It is, yes.”
Unexpectedly she felt awkward, and was surprised at herself. Until this moment she had been so at ease with him, as if she knew him, had known him for years. There was an odd feeling of familiarity about him at times, and especially tonight. In the way he said something, or moved his hands when speaking, walked alongside her, and something about his gait stirred a memory in her head and was immediately gone.
He took hold of her shoulders, drew her closer, kissed her lightly on the mouth, and began to open the buttons on her white silk shirt. She stood there and let him do it, didn’t move an inch. But she cringed when he slipped it over her shoulders, took it off. She gaped at him, her eyes riveted on his face.
Jack gave her a soft smile, and brought her into his arms. “You seem so afraid, Annette. Please don’t be. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I didn’t think you were,” she whispered, and didn’t say another word as he unzipped her skirt. It fell around her feet. She stepped over it and moved away from him then, turned around, waiting for him to join her near the bed.
In a moment he was by her side. He held her close once again, touching her shoulders, sliding his hand down her back, opening the fastening on her bra. And before she could even blink, he was pulling off his sweater, sliding out of his jeans.
A moment later they were both naked, lying on the bed together. She closed her eyes and did not move, shaking inside. She knew she was rigid next to him, but she couldn’t help it, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Jack was fully aware how taut Annette was beside him, and he
suspected she had never had an enjoyable sex life. He was not in possession of any knowledge about her marriage, or her life before that, but he did know women. And he was certain she had been damaged somewhere along the way. He wondered quite suddenly if she had been abused as a child, and then let the thought go. It was up to him to make her feel secure, to treat her tenderly, to give her pleasure, to love her as she deserved.
Leaning over her, he kissed her nose, her eyelids, her forehead; then he began to stroke her shoulders and her arms, let his hands wander down onto her legs.
She moved slightly, and he realized she was beginning to relax. Kissing her on the mouth once more, he touched her face and her hair tenderly, and in between his kisses, he whispered to her. “It’s all right, darling, we’ll go slowly, we’ll take it one step at a time. . . . No hurry . . . Just let your body go limp, relaxed. Annette, let me help you.”
She opened her eyes suddenly and stared up at him, and he felt his heart tighten. Her eyes were so blue at this moment he was truly startled, felt as though he were drowning in their blueness.
She lifted her hand, touched his mouth, and then brought his face down to hers. They kissed for a long time, the kisses growing in passion. There was a moment of true intimacy when his tongue grazed hers, and she kissed him back in the same way, allowed her tongue to rest next to his.
Annette realized her taut body had begun to respond to his caresses. She became aware of a lovely lassitude in her limbs, and slowly her entire body grew soft, open, and welcoming.
Jack felt her flinch when his hand touched her inner thigh, but he ignored this, began to caress her intimately yet tenderly. He increased the pressure until she spasmed, moaning. Before he could stop himself he took possession of her; he lay on top of her, his arms around her, and she accepted him willingly and they found their rhythm instantly. “You’re wonderful,” he said against her breast, and she murmured, “So are you.”
After that they grew silent, concentrating on each other, caught up in their mutual desire. Repressed for days, they were finding release at last, thrilled by the way they had so quickly become lovers tonight.
Annette was amazed at herself, at her joyous and willing responses to Jack and everything he was doing to her, and at her awareness of her own pleasure. He had rapidly brought her to a climax just by touching her; now as they moved together furiously, invading each other’s bodies, devouring, taking, giving, she accepted that she had entered a different world. It was an extraordinary world of sexual fulfillment, one she had never previously known before. She had never felt like this. Nor had she ever been loved like Jack was loving her now.
Unexpectedly, he tightened his arms around her, lifting her slightly, and they soared together, higher and higher, reaching a plane of pure ecstasy. As they came together he said her name over and over. She called out his, which she had never done before with anyone. Always, she had been mute.
Jack held her in his arms for a long time, not moving, lying on top of her, breathing against her neck. At last he said, “Am I too heavy?”
“No, no,” she murmured quietly, stroking his back.
Eventually he rolled off her, then pushed himself up on one elbow, looked down into her face. “Are you all right?” he asked in the gentlest of voices, searching her face for signs of displeasure.
She did not answer, just stared up at him. Tears began to seep out of her eyes, rolled down her cheeks.
Alarmed, he came closer to her, flicked the tears away with a fingertip. “Whatever is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She gave him a weak smile. “I’ve never made love like that before, never had this kind of pleasure.”
“You won’t believe this, I know, but this was a rather unique experience for me, too. It’s never been quite like it was with you tonight.” He kissed her cheek, and that endearing smile flickered. “I think it’s called being in love. Not that I’m diminishing the extraordinary power of sexual attraction. That works, too, but when there is boundless emotion involved it’s . . . just different, that’s all. Infinitely better.”
He insisted on serving her dinner, refusing her help.
Once they were dressed and downstairs again, they drank a glass of champagne before Jack escorted her to the small table near the French doors.
After lighting the lone candle on the table, he touched her shoulder lightly. “The first course is—”
“You mean there’s more than one?” she interrupted, laughing.
“Naturally. What do you think I am? A cheap date? I have smoked salmon, but if that’s not to your taste, I can offer you caviar, madame.”
“Smoked salmon’s fine, thank you.”
“Don’t go away. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
And he was. He returned with a bottle of chilled Pouilly-Fumé, filled their glasses with the white wine, put the cold bottle on the table, and departed.
Within seconds he was back with two plates of smoked salmon, decorated with wedges of lemon.
After putting the plates on the table, he sat down opposite her and said, “This is much better than going out to a restaurant, isn’t it?”
Annette nodded, picked up her fork. For once in her life, she felt hungry, and began to eat the smoked salmon after squeezing the lemon on it. “This is good,” she said, and looked across at him. “How did you manage to do all this, Jack? I’m absolutely amazed.”
He grinned. “Speedy Gonzales, that’s me!” He shrugged, lifting his glass of chilled white wine. “Here’s to you, my darling Annette.”
She touched her glass to his. “And to you, Jack.” After taking a sip, she held his gaze. “Come on then, tell me how you managed to revamp this room and give it such a lovely look. And make dinner as well.”
“All right, I will. First I went to Harrods and bought everything. The wine, the champagne, the food, the candles, the flowers. Then I came up here, and did my decorating. After that, I set the fire, made the next course we’re going to have, and tidied up my bedroom. It took me about three hours, but it was worth it, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. I was very touched you’d gone to so much trouble for me.”
“My pleasure. I enjoyed doing it.”
After finishing the smoked salmon, Annette sat back in her chair, regarding him quietly, thinking what a genuinely nice person he was, quite aside from his good looks and his talent as a writer.
“You’re staring at me,” he murmured after a moment or two, his head on one side as he studied her in return.
Not wanting to reveal what she was thinking, she said instead, “Where did the sofa come from? That’s the one thing that genuinely puzzles me.”
“It’s always been in the room next door, my father’s den. I had a devil of a job dragging it in here, I can tell you, but I managed somehow.”
“And what about all this? The lovely china and silverware, the vases, and the sheets on the bed upstairs?”
“There’s still a lot of small stuff like that in the house,” he explained. “Aunt Helen, my mother’s sister, is coming to pack everything and take it away, when she gets back from Canada next week. She’s been visiting her son and his family. Kyle and I want her to have it.”
“With all this shopping and decorating and what have you, when on earth did you find the time to write?”
“During the night,” he replied. “I’d outlined the profile of you already, so that helped. I just sat down and wrote and wrote, until I finished early this morning. I had a few hours’ sleep and then I went into action.” He rose, picked up their empty plates. “Next course coming up. It’s salad Niçoise. I’m sorry it’s another cold dish, but I didn’t know what else I could make, under the circumstances.”
“Can I come and help?” she called after him.
“No way! I told you I’m serving you dinner.”
She watched him go, and then turned in her chair, sat staring out of the window. There was a huge full moon again, and the lawn was bathed in its cool silver light as it had be
en yesterday. It was another beautiful night, with hundreds of stars in the sky, a light breeze rustling the trees, and a garden of great beauty that looked ethereal, magical.
Annette sighed, relaxing in the chair. She was truly at ease with Jack now. All of the tension and anxiety had dissolved, gone away. She was filled with a strange kind of joy which she had never experienced before. It was sexual fulfillment, and the giddy feeling of being in love, she was certain.
Time stood still. At least for tonight. They were encapsulated in their own little bubble. She knew it would burst. That was inevitable. Tomorrow, she thought. I’ll deal with the problems tomorrow.
Thirty-four
“Whatever spa you went to this weekend, I want its name!” Esther exclaimed, staring at Annette. “I’m going to go there myself as fast as I can.”
Annette started laughing. “I haven’t been to a spa,” she said. “I’ve been working most of the weekend, actually.”
“You look pretty fantastic, whatever you’ve been doing,” Esther responded, eyeing her appraisingly. “Your skin is beautiful, and so are you.”
“Thanks for the lovely compliments, Esther.” Leaning across the desk, Annette fixed her cool blue gaze on her assistant. “We’ve got a problem to contend with.”
“What is it, boss? You sound worried.”
“I am a bit. There’s a new situation with the Delaware collection, and I don’t want any leaks about it.”
“How could there be leaks? And what about? Oh, God, you’re concerned about Christopher Delaware, aren’t you? I don’t blame you. He’s a loose cannon, in my opinion.”
“You’ve pinpointed it as usual, Esther. He is a loose cannon, although he doesn’t mean to be anything of the kind. He just has a bad habit of blurting things out. Without thinking.”
Playing the Game Page 29
