Love in the Valley

by Susan Napier

  ‘What’s the matter, Julia?’ he asked with soft emphasis. ‘You can dish it out but you can’t take it? Not so amusing when you’re the butt of a joke, is it?’

  So she had been correct in thinking he was teaching her a lesson. ‘You … you …’ How could she blurt out that to her it was no joke, that the lesson was more painful than he could possibly have conceived. For the first time in her life she had to control her instinct to tell the truth, holding back the words until she was almost bursting with the frustration of it.

  ‘Now, Julia, don’t lose your splendid sense of humour. You want me to be less solemn don’t you? And still you’re not happy.’

  ‘What happened to your much-vaunted subtlety?’ she cried weakly, backed into a corner by his inescapable logic. If she felt he had done it to gain her approval her spirits might have lifted, but that hadn’t been his aim.

  ‘You’re not a subtle woman,’ he pointed out gently. ‘Perhaps you might now feel more sympathetic towards those who are less extrovert than yourself.’

  Julia suddenly caught sight of his typewriter sitting, now innocent of stain, on an extremely tidy desk. She grabbed the chance of a diversion. ‘I meant to tell you about the typewriter, I really did. But I didn’t do anything, Hugh, I was just trying to—’

  ‘Please, spare me. Charley filled me in on your mechanical problems. Next time it happens, let me deal with it.’

  ‘Yes, Hugh,’ she said humbly. At least there was going to be a next time, by the sound of it, he wasn’t going to cast her aside immediately. The reprieve made her bolder. ‘He wants to be a mechanic, did he tell you?’

  A wary expression cooled Hugh’s eyes. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Well what?’

  ‘What are you going to do about it?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes, you.’ This was a Hugh she was very familiar with. ‘You’re his big brother. You’re a lawyer, you could present a good case to Michael and Connie, prepare the way so to speak. You told me yourself he’d done an excellent job on my car.’ He had made it seem like another of his whispered sweet nothings at the dinner table.

  ‘I’ll see.’ Hugh moved away from her but Julia followed.

  ‘What will you see?’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ His tone brooked no argument and Julia, still unsatisfied, pursued another line.

  ‘While you’re about it, there’s Olivia.’

  Hugh lifted his head wearily. ‘What a receptive bosom you have, Julia.’

  His sarcasm hurt. ‘There’s no need to sneer, just because you don’t use my bosom to cry on.’

  ‘If I use your breasts at all, Julia, it won’t be for crying on,’ he said softly, in wry self-derision, his eyes flickering down.

  The blood drummed in Julia’s head as she stared at him, her mouth slightly open. She felt instantly hot, her breathing all out of control. Did he know what that sort of comment did to her? Of course he did, he must. She stirred uneasily under his veiled gaze. What was he thinking? And was it as erotic as what she had in mind? No, he was just trying to distract her train of thought … as she had done earlier to him with her comment about the typewriter.

  ‘Yes, um, well … about Olivia.’ Her voice came out in an embarrassing croak which smoothed out as she explained the situation.

  ‘How you love to interfere in other people’s lives, Julia. Fortunately I have no such compulsion.’

  ‘Giving someone a viable alternative isn’t interfering,’ she protested. ‘She needs an escape clause from that commune, that’s all.’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with me, leave me out of it.’ Evenness edged into impatience.

  ‘Oh yes it is. You’ve gone all lawyer-like. You always do that when you feel defensive.’

  ‘Don’t try me too far, Julia,’ he said dangerously. ‘Be satisfied with Charley. I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work. I am not going to get involved.’

  ‘But you are involved already,’ she said triumphantly. ‘Look how involved you were tonight—and look how much you enjoyed yourself. You did, you know!’ as he opened his mouth. ‘Even if I didn’t, I could see that much. All right, all right, I’m going!’ she held her hands up and backed away as the broad jaw firmed, sensing she would get no further. Obviously Hugh had no intention of working tonight, at least not with her. Much as she wanted to stay she sensed that Hugh had reached the limit of his patience. Perhaps he was even a little dismayed at his uncharacteristic behaviour.

  Later she had reason to be glad that she had left quietly. That night proved to be another turning point in their relationship, the start of a mutual journey of discovery. Julia still laughed and teased, but with a loving sensitivity that held no sting, while Hugh in his turn guided her more willingly into his world. The reluctant fascination with which he watched her became less reluctant. No longer did it disturb him if a piece of music, selected specifically to educate her inexperienced ears to the complexities of the classical repertoire, prompted Julia to dance, swirling across the Persian carpets in uninhibited physical response to its beauty. He would lie in his favourite chair, eyes half-closed as they followed her movements, content in the realisation that, though hers was still a sensual rather than intellectual appreciation of music, she had the capacity for both. He could even admit to himself that he was enjoying her slow process of discovery, the freshness of her outlook provoking him to re-appraise his own response to the music which was so familiar to him, so much of a refuge.

  Neither of them mentioned Hugh’s fast-healing hand, quite capable by now of using a typewriter. By tacit agreement the pace of their work slowed, allowing more time for conversation. At last Julia felt that he was beginning to trust her, to know her. But knowing was a long way from loving. It was impossible to tell, from Hugh’s controlled demeanour, what he was feeling, but the physical tension that hovered between them on occasion told her at least that he was aware of a certain attraction. Of course, a man like Hugh wouldn’t fall in love with the ease of someone who was as emotionally secure as Julia. She wasn’t even sure that he had the capacity for her kind of loving, the whole-hearted, generous kind; but if not, she would have enough for both of them. When Julia gave herself, it would be without reservation.

  She found the experience of being in love rather strange, both a pain and a pleasure. Every now and then she would inspect the fledgeling emotion and wonder at its secret splendour, waiting, wondering how or when it would grow to maturity. How different love was from her girlish fantasies … not a clap of thunder and a bright shining light, but a thing alive, growing, climbing, twining itself around her, each day sending out delicate new tendrils, soft yet incredibly strong. And more incredible still, that her love not be Phillip’s ‘Latin hysteric’, but a big, thoughtful, slow-moving man who pondered each word before he spoke, whose attractiveness was inextricably bound up with his intelligence.

  One evening, late enough that the attic room had grown uncomfortably hot from the fire, Julia drowsed on the couch like a sleepy kitten, watching Hugh as he unbuttoned the starched collar of his shirt and flexed his muscular shoulders.

  ‘How did you get to be such a size?’ She stretched with a yawn. ‘Mrs B said you used to be a scrawny little thing.’

  ‘So I was. A prime target for school bullies. I decided that I needed some size and weight to deter the taunts.’

  ‘Boxing? Judo?’ Julia guessed teasingly.

  He looked down at his hands as he stood before her—large, strong hands. ‘I don’t believe in physical violence.’

  ‘No smacking your children then?’ she asked lightly, and was taken aback by the silver flame that darted from his eyes.

  ‘The question is hypothetical.’

  Did that mean he didn’t want children or couldn’t have them? Julia was disturbed. Whatever vague and impossible dreams she had had about herself and Hugh, children had been a natural part of them. Hadn’t everyone said how gentle and kind he was with children? May
be he meant he would never get married. Well, that was something she could live with … if there was no other choice.

  ‘I took up body-building.’ As if he had sensed her curiosity, Hugh drew her off with his next words.

  Julia’s eyes widened. ‘You pumped iron? Like the Incredible Hulk?’

  ‘If you mean like the man who played the part, yes.’

  Julia laughed delightedly, and told him about her first impression of him, coming towards her from his car. ‘Tell me, did you pose, and all that other macho stuff?’

  ‘I didn’t perform in competition, no. I concentrated on weight-lifting.’

  Yes, Julia could imagine it. Hugh sweating it out alone in a gym, engaged in a grim, private battle with his own body, and winning.

  ‘Show me,’ she ordered, sitting up from her semi-reclining position.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Show me how your muscles work.’

  ‘I told you, I didn’t pose.’ He looked down his nose at her but Julia could be as stubborn as he.

  ‘Rubbish. I bet you did it in front of the mirror when nobody was about.’

  ‘I haven’t lifted a weight in eight months.’

  ‘So what? You’re still in great condition.’ Julia jumped up from the couch and grabbed at the buttons on his shirt. ‘Aw, come on Hugh, I’ve never seen a man flex his muscles in the flesh.’

  ‘No, Julia …’ Hugh clamped his hand over hers.

  ‘Don’t be shy, Hugh, I’ve seen you with more than just your shirt off, remember? Please.’ The memory spurred her on, her sudden desire to see him as she had that day on the beach intensifying. She wriggled her hands out of his and pulled his shirt open, going up on tiptoe to try and push it over his wide shoulders. He resisted and there was an undignified tussle, which Hugh lost by virtue of the fact that her small, pale hands moving over his chest seemed to have a mesmerising effect on him. Julia tossed his shirt over her shoulder and laughed triumphantly up at him.

  ‘Show me,’ she urged, her voice made husky by the knowledge that she was asking for more than a mere display of his muscles. She was close enough to feel the heat from his body and it seemed to radiate a more scorching heat than the fire behind her.

  Slowly Hugh obliged, stripped of humour and embarrassment by Julia’s sultry-eyed fascination. The atmosphere became charged with expectancy as she watched the beautifully meshed workings of his magnificent body, drawn like a magnet to its silent, potent maleness.

  He froze as she raised an oddly trembling hand to stroke lightly across his bulging pectorals. ‘So smooth, so hard,’ she murmured, ‘like hardwood under velvet. You’re quite the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.’ She felt so small and feminine, enravished by this intensely personal exhibition of rippling power.

  His hand caught at hers, but instead of pushing her away he held it hard against the warm brush of his chest so that she could feel the steady, slightly fast, rhythmic pulse of his heart. Her own was skipping erratically and her lips parted on a sigh of welcome as she watched his tightly controlled mouth come closer and closer to hover just above hers.

  ‘Usually-so-honest-Julia. Why so coy? This is what you want, isn’t it?’

  He didn’t need to wait for a reply. Julia arched towards him and his arms went around her, binding her firmly to his broad chest, burying her body against his. His kiss was as devastating as ever and Julia responded greedily to its lure, kicking off her shoes and leaning into him as she felt his tongue seek out the rough-smooth, hard-soft interiors of her mouth.

  ‘You’re so tiny in my arms,’ he groaned thickly against her lips. ‘Like a baby, so fresh and sweet.’

  ‘I don’t feel in the least babyish,’ she muttered feverishly, denying the self-reproach implicit in his words. She couldn’t bear it if he drew back now, if he used his damnable logic to talk himself out of satisfying them both.

  ‘Show me how grown up you are, then,’ he ordered, the large hands dealing with the buttons of her blouse with extraordinary delicacy as he kissed her mouth, her eyes, her ears, her neck, the warm pulse in her collarbone as it throbbed her excitement.

  ‘Oh no, most definitely not a baby.’ His soft words sent the blood rushing to her head as he cupped the fullness of her unfettered breasts, aroused by their round ripeness and the way they nestled warmly in his palms. ‘But still, I think it’s time you were in bed.’

  She felt the smooth slide of a muscular arm at the back of her knees and the swift shift of his body that tilted her off-balance to be hoisted high against his chest. This time he let her down, not on a hard, wet table, but in the feathery nest of warmth that was his bed. He came down too, engulfing her with his heated flesh, pressing her further into the softness. ‘

  ‘As Richard pointed out on one memorable occasion, I’m a little too old for love-making on the floor,’ he apologised with a dry humour that made Julia blink sensuously at him, and tease:

  ‘What does Richard know? I think you’re in fantastic condition. Maybe later we can go back and I can show you how wrong you are…’

  ‘My God, if anyone could, you could,’ he growled, pulling off her blouse and fumbling for the zip of her skirt.

  ‘Well, you know what they say about younger women … we renew a man’s virility,’ Julia gurgled, full to the brim with love and laughter, relishing her first experience of teasing foreplay, both physical and verbal. ‘Here, let me do that.’

  With a lithe and natural sensuality she slipped out of her skirt and peeled off her pantyhose and tiny bikini briefs. She was shivering with anticipation, eager to touch and be touched, and her eagerness banished virginal reticence and further aroused the man who watched her prepare herself to receive his body.

  He kissed her, long and hard, as if he couldn’t help it, then drew back to study her nakedness with his customary eye for detail: the white skin, even whiter across her breasts and hips—the luscious rise of the twin peaks and their hard, rosy crests, the rounded kissing-curve of her belly with its faintest suggestion of baby down, the tender blonde vee between the soft rise of her thighs. He touched her, experimentally, and felt her tauten, heard her aching sigh. A slight flush mounted his cheekbones and the tips of his ears and Julia reached up to stroke them, rejoicing in her freedom to do so.

  No man had ever looked on her thus and Julia gloried that Hugh should be the first, that she could bring such an expression of passionate desire to the normally shuttered grey eyes. She wasn’t afraid of what was to come, she wanted it so; she didn’t feel like a virgin, she felt all woman, limbs heavy, languid, and she had no intention of breaking the spell of sexual urgency by revealing the truth of her inexperience. She would tell him later, if he did not realise it for himself. Men always knew, didn’t they, or was that a myth about to be exploded?

  His hand moved to tilt her head to the side. ‘Let’s make love,’ he whispered softly and his eyes closed as he kissed her very, very gently. Only their mouths touched as they savoured the taste of mutual arousal, until Julia, able to bear it no longer, rolled on to her side and pressed her body against his, the tips of her breasts flowering against the silky tease of his chest and her thighs trembling as she felt the thrust of his long legs. His kiss changed from gentle to very adult, his tongue forcing her lips wider as his hands slid around her hips, fingers sinking into the dimpled globes of her buttocks, lifting her against him, fitting her tightly to the contours of his body.

  She groaned at the excess of pleasure, head falling back against the mounded pillows as his mouth played with her ear-lobes, nipped softly at her throat. So this was love, this twisting, wrenching inner tension, this driving force that compelled her to writhe against the hard masculinity beside her. She felt the large hands move to her waist, holding her down on her back again as his mouth sought further and Julia cried out as his lips described lazy circles around her breasts. She caught the short, grey hair between her clutching fingers, holding his head as she arched herself against him.

  ‘Please, Hugh …’ s
he pleaded quiveringly, her brain losing its tenuous links with the world outside his arms.

  ‘I intend to please both of us, little one,’ he vowed huskily, his hands tightening as he controlled her eagerness even as he encouraged it. ‘Watch me, Julia. Tell me how I please you.’

  Julia’s eyes fluttered as she obeyed, reaching a pitch of desire as she saw his head dip to her breast, his lips part as he slowly, sensuously curled his moist tongue around an erect nipple, drawing it up into his open mouth. One hand moved up to cup the weight of her breast, lifting its fullness so that he could absorb more of the puckered pink into the scalding interior of his mouth. He was making soft sounds of enjoyment against her flesh and Julia closed her eyes again, dizzied by the image of his grey head moving against her body. Wave after wave of pure, unadulterated sensation hit her; the musky scent of him filled her nostrils, the slither of skin and soft rustle of the bed beneath them stole into her ears. Her legs moved involuntarily and he threw one of his across them, pinning her down while his hands made tiny, stroking motions across her stomach. He was touching her as if she was a tiny, precious, breakable object to be minutely explored.

  In turn Julia explored him, her fingers delighting in what they found. His smooth, taut skin was faintly damp and alive with tension. Julia could feel the drawing in of his muscles as her hands stroked down to his hips where they lingered helplessly, wanting to seek his nakedness but hampered by inexperience.

  His mouth left her breasts and trailed down to her stomach, then rimmed the bowl of her hips. Gasping, Julia pulled his head away, her fingers clenched in his hair, staring at him with a breathless intermingling of shock and excitement.

  He met her wide-eyed gaze with puzzlement, then looked down at himself, misinterpreting her shyness.

  ‘You’re right. I’m over-dressed.’ He sounded as if he had just succeeded in lifting a personal best… his voice harshened by adrenalin surging through his body, muscles responding fluidly as he swung off the bed and quickly stripped off the rest of his clothing.

  ‘Better?’ he murmured and Julia felt the sag of the bed as he re-joined her. She had not dared look but she gave a choking cry as he pulled her hands against him and she felt his hard nakedness. His sigh of satisfaction, the sudden shudder of his body changed the moment of fearful discovery into one of wonderment. It felt so searingly sweet, so meltingly, achingly, good to hold him like this. The very essence of his manhood was held in her small, trembling hands. It was she who made him like this; she whom he wanted so much that he had abandoned his protective persona.