‘Well, no. But even so…’
‘I still fancy you, Jane Rexford,’ he said drily.
Jane touched the edge of the pool, hung on and sighed. ‘Then why don’t you want to make love with me, Guy?’ she found herself asking bitterly. ‘Isn’t this going to be a real marriage after all? I don’t understand. I thought that although we’d married for our own reasons, the marriage itself would be just like anyone else’s. Not an…empty shell.’
He lifted a hand from the water and stroked her cheek with his damp fingertips.
‘I want to make love to you very badly indeed,’ he said, his voice low. ‘I would have thought that was obvious.’
‘Then why don’t you? We are married!’
‘Because,’ he said, letting his hand come to rest on her shoulder, and then letting it travel below the surface until it brushed against the hard point of one breast, ‘because there needs to be a period first in which I discover what will please you. Everyone is different, Jane…’
‘A period of courtship, you mean?’ she asked challengingly. Suddenly she was angry with him. ‘You said when you took me to lunch that first time that you had come to court me. And then you just…stopped. But it’s six weeks since I agreed to marry you, and you’ve had plenty of time since then to court me. Why did you leave it so late?’
He smiled, and the sunlight on the strong planes of his face made her ache inside. ‘I’ve already courted you,’ he said. I’ve courted you and I’ve wed you. But I still have to woo you, Jane.’
‘Then you’ve had six weeks in which to woo me!’
‘Jane, you’re young—and a virgin. Trust me. It will be better this way. You’ll see…’ And then he kissed her wet mouth very passionately and let his fingers explore the taut thrust of her breasts through the scant bikini top. At last, when she was finding it hard to catch her breath, and her knees started buckling so that she kept sinking in the water, he stopped, and let go of her and swam powerfully to the edge of the pool. As he heaved himself out, his desire for her was indeed very obvious. She felt herself colour deeply, but didn’t follow him. Already she felt she had let herself down by almost pleading with him to consummate their marriage quickly. This wasn’t a normal marriage, she reminded herself. He, at least, wasn’t overwhelmed by love and desperate to have it made manifest. She was, of course. But it wouldn’t do to have him guess.
She stayed in the water a little longer in the hope that her desire would fade, but when she saw him stand up and stretch so that his hard abdomen hollowed and all the hairs on his thighs prickled up into a dark fuzz she realised that viewing him from a distance was no better than seeing him close to. She reluctantly pulled herself out of the water and joined him on a rug nearby, where food spilled out of a hamper and a Chianti bottle stood uncorked.
They ate tomatoes and cheese, thinly sliced cold meats, fresh bread, peaches and cherries, all the while lying side by side on the rug.
Guy let his hands travel lightly over her bare stomach as she ate, and murmured, ‘This is going to be wonderful. You’ll see. You won’t be sorry in the end that I’ve made you wait.’
She propped her head on one hand and looked into his dark eyes. ‘I know. I’m sure you’re right. I shouldn’t have been so impatient.’
But Guy was not listening to her words. His eyes had been captured by the fall of her breasts as she stretched out on her side, and slowly, using his teeth to tug away her bikini top, he let his mouth hover hungrily over her breasts before letting his tongue circle the dark peaks of her exposed nipples. The sensation startled her with its power to arouse. The need she had felt so far had been a diffuse, gentle thing compared to this. Now pleasure attacked her senses like lemon juice on the tongue. She lay back in the sun and closed her eyes, while her breasts taught her how sharp and demanding her arousal could be. She lay like that for what seemed like a long time, letting the insistent pulse of her need beat its tattoo in time to the motion of his mouth on her breasts. When he dragged hard against her nipples with his teeth she shuddered and squirmed her shoulder-blades against the rug.
He stopped. ‘Did you like that a lot, or didn’t you like it at all?’ he asked with a detatchment which was belied only by the rough burr of his voice.
‘I…I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I…it was a strange sensation. I think I could like it…I’m sure I ought to but—’
‘Jane, there are no oughts in lovemaking,’ he said. ‘That why I wanted us to wait. To take our time. There is only what gives us both pleasure. I shan’t do that again until we’re more certain of each other, and I’m sure that you’re confident enough to tell me to stop if you want me to. If you’re not convinced that you like something another time you must tell me.’
He stared forbiddingly down into her big, dark brown eyes. She looked up at him for a long time without speaking. He had been right. She wouldn’t have made any comment about what she did or didn’t enjoy, left to her own devices. Putting her trust in him, she whispered, ‘I liked it when you teased me with your tongue…and when you know, when you…um…um…’ She used her hand to show him what she meant.
He smiled at her very tenderly then. ‘Good. We’re married to one another, Jane. Man and wife together. We have all the time in the world to learn all sorts of things…but for the moment we’ll stick with what we already know.’
He didn’t drag his teeth across her skin the next time. And the pleasure he gave her became increasingly unmarred by uncertainty. All through the long afternoon he kissed her and touched her. When her need became too intense to bear she would utter a sharp cry, and he would stop. Occasionally he stopped anyway, his breathing hard and forced and the muscles of his jaw clenched, and she sensed that he too was finding it very difficult to control his desire.
At last, when the afternoon had filtered away, Guy said, ‘Come on…let’s swim again. Then we can get a meal.’
Jane sat up and groaned. ‘Guy…this afternoon has been the most wonderful lesson in the art of arousal I could possibly imagine. But I feel as if I’m going to burst with it all. I can’t just stop and swim and cook a meal as if rd been reading the newspaper all afternoon. Don’t you see?’
Guy knelt beside her and tipped back his head. He smiled very broadly, his eyes narrowing and his lips parting to show his even white teeth. He laughed. It was a happy sound. ‘You see…I was right. You’re not shy, now. You’re beginning to feel OK talking about it.’
‘Don’t you think that would have happened anyway?’ she complained.
He shrugged. ‘I don’t believe in leaving things to chance,’ he said firmly and then stood up, loped across to the pool and dived in.
She sighed. If they’d both been in love she was sure there would have been no inhibitions…after all, that was what shared love meant, didn’t it? But they weren’t both in love…so this was the way it had to be…She stretched out her heavy, languorous limbs and arched her spine. Then slowly she got to her feet and walked across to the pool, plopping herself gently into the water, watching while Guy swam powerfully from one end to the other. She took a few tentative strokes. She was so hot that at least the coolness of the water against her skin was good. She headed for the opposite end, swimming slowly but steadily. Guy was up ahead, turning to complete another length, the water around him foaming with turbulence, the muscles of his brown shoulders outlined against the white spray.
She closed her eyes and increased her speed, concentrating on getting across the pool as fast as possible. When she arrived at the far end she turned and swam the next length even faster. She had never paced herself when she swam before, but suddenly she was fixing her eyes on the expanse of blue water ahead of her and willing it to part for her. Her arms ached from the effort Was this what drove people onwards in life? Disappointment? Rejection? Frustration? She glanced across at Guy, ploughing through the water almost ferociously. Was that what had driven him all his life?
By the time they were ready to come out of the water both o
f them had driven their sexual needs into abeyance with physical effort.
Guy put one hand on her shoulder as they walked, barefoot, back through the garden to the house, and the sensation of wet skin on her tired flesh hardly stirred her at all.
‘Look,’ he said, indicating the back of the house. ‘It’s a sort of U-shape. It means that the courtyard is always well-shaded, no matter what time of day it is. We’ll eat out there, I think.’
Jane nodded. ‘Is there plenty of food in?’
‘Yes. I arranged for the fridge to be well-stocked. I didn’t think we’d want to go shopping for a few days at least.’
She felt pleased when he said that. It seemed to bode well. ‘You’re incredibly well-organised,’ she said admiringly.
‘I need to be,’ he agreed. ‘I live life at a pretty fast pace.’
‘Don’t you ever let go and just relax?’ she sighed.
And then he caught hold of her chin and turned her face towards his, and said, ‘Oh, yes. And you’ll find out just how relaxed I can be before long.’
Jane felt her lips part in a smile. ‘Before dinner or after?’ she teased.
He narrowed his eyes. ‘After…’ he growled.
She couldn’t bear it any more. She leaned against his broad chest and sighed and said, ‘No, Guy. Now. Please.’
But he just set her firmly aside and said, ‘Later.’
Later, Jane couldn’t deny that it had been worth waiting for. He kissed her and caressed her and touched her and teased her. This time there was no stopping. No holding back. Each time his mouth found her mouth or travelled over her shoulders to cover a breast her need mounted even further. At first it spiralled upwards gently, then charged onwards relentlessly, until she abruptly moved into a new realm of arousal. She had entered a world where she was open and moist and ready, driven by an urgency which would not be stayed. Until now Guy had been leading her. Suddenly she felt as if she was travelling alone, driven only by the animal force of her desire. She clung to him, her limbs winding around him, her body arching and pleading with a thousand small movements, her breasts rubbing against the rough hairs of his chest, her teeth feinting at the sleek brown skin of his shoulders, her voice moaning wildly, her skin slick with sweat. And then it happened. With a dark, animal thrust he entered her. There was no pain. Only the sensation of them being made one, racing together towards a glorious light. As he moved inside her all her senses seemed to falter for a moment, and then hurled themselves into a formless ecstasy which left her boneless and shaking, and utterly, utterly happy.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WHEN Jane woke up the next morning, Guy was sprawled on his stomach beside her, his head turned away, still sleeping peacefully. He had slipped down the bed a little, so that he lay flat out on the mattress, his big, well-shaped feet hanging over the end of the bed. Her heart leapt in her throat. He looked so beautiful— and so endearingly vulnerable, his arms flung out carelessly, his shoulders rising and falling with each steady breath. She wanted to hug him close, to hold his head against her naked breasts. But of course she couldn’t do that because it would be too intimate and tender a gesture for a relationship such as theirs. Instead she simply looked, noticing another mole close to his spine, and the few stray hairs which peppered his shoulders. Her eyes ran upwards to the hair of his head, shorn close against his powerful neck. It had been cut so short that it was impossible to tell whether it was severely straight or might have curled given a chance. A dark, rich brown, thick and springy; her fingers itched to reach into it and riffle it. She stretched out one hand and touched it.
Guy stirred, and then, still lying on his stomach, turned his head to face her.
Jane’s response was to let out a short, horrified scream.
His eyes opened, dark blue and bleary, and then his brow gathered into a frown. ‘Jane?’ he said in a gravelly, early-morning voice, his face crumpled against the sheet.
‘Uh…oh, dear…’ Jane’s hand was shaking as she pressed it to her mouth and her heart was hammering crazily.
Guy slowly sat up, continuing to look at her and continuing to frown. ‘Was I imagining it or did you scream?’
‘I screamed…’ she admitted, giving a tremulous laugh in confirmation. ‘You gave me a horrible fright.’
Guy pulled a bemused face. ‘Why? I mean, what did I do?’
‘I…Guy, you’ve got a beard.’
And then it was Guy’s turn to laugh, as he reached up a hand to rub raspingly at his chin. ‘I’m sorry. I got carried away last night. I should have shaved before I went to bed.’
Jane peered at his dense, black stubble. ‘How many times a day do you have to shave it?’ she asked.
‘Two. Three. It depends.’
She peered even more closely at his chin. ‘That’s incredible. You’ve grown proper designer stubble overnight. When any of my friends have tried it, it’s taken them a few days, at the very least. Do you drink fertiliser?’
He bared his teeth. ‘I drink the blood of young virgins,’ he growled. ‘It’s much more effective.’
‘Ugh, Guy! Stop pulling that face. You look like a pirate. You’re making me feel quite nervous.’
And then Guy flung himself back down on the pillows and laughed richly. ‘Your face…’ he groaned at last. ‘You really did look frightened…’
Jane felt sublimely happy. He was laughing, and for once she didn’t feel that it put a painful distance between them. ‘I was! I’ve never woken up in bed with a man before…I guess I was expecting you to look a bit, you know…dishevelled and needing a shave and so on. But nothing prepared me for the shock of going to bed with a clean-shaven man and waking up with a bearded one. I didn’t know hair could grow that fast.’
‘Should I have warned you? It never crossed my mind.’
‘Yes! You had no right to give me a fright like that.’
‘You looked very funny.’
‘Well, it didn’t feel the least bit funny, I can tell you. In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to watch A Midsummer Night’s Dream ever again. That bit where Bottom wakes up and he’s got an ass’s head…all rough and hairy…you know? His friends all get a dreadful fright and the audience always laugh its head off…Well, I shall close my eyes at that bit in future…’
‘“Bless you, Bottom…”’ quoted Guy under his breath.
‘“Thou art translated,”’ she finished with a wry smile.
Guy frowned and then he propped himself up on one elbow and stared very intently at her. ‘Good lord, Jane…this is very intellectual stuff…First you recognise a minor Pissarro and now you’re quoting Shakespeare before I’ve even opened my eyes properly. Have you been deceiving me? Or hast thou been translated, too?’ Strangely, he sounded as if he was accusing her.
Jane looked at him uncertainly. She always found it nearly impossible to read his face, and with that coating of dense, black stubble making him look so unfamiliar it was even more difficult. Was he impressed or dismayed? She pushed her hair back from her face with a flurried gesture. ‘I haven’t tried to deceive you about anything, Guy,’ she said awkwardly. ‘You’re the one who’s difficult to fathom. I’m not sure I shall ever understand you.’
‘You don’t try to understand me,’ he said softly.
‘I do!’ she cried, remembering how hard she’d tried to see inside him. ‘I honestly do. If I haven’t asked the right questions, then I’m sorry.’
‘You haven’t asked any questions, Jane.’
She looked blankly at him. ‘It hasn’t been that sort of…relationship,’ she muttered. ‘We were always out, in company.’
‘We sat at plenty of restaurant tables together. The other diners weren’t in our laps. We talked about…nothing at all, really. Not me or you.’
‘No, but…’ she gulped. She had sensed the loneliness of his impoverished, loveless childhood only too clearly. And she had imagined Guy, later, when he had come to love her, lying in her arms, confiding it all because at last he need
ed to share it with her. That was how she yearned for it to be…how it had to be. ‘Should I have asked you for a curriculum vitae? Is that what I should have done?’ she demanded frantically. ‘Would there have been any point, Guy? I’ve married the man you are now…What’s past is past, isn’t it? It’s only the future we have to worry about.’
And then something horrible happened. Guy’s eyes took on a severe, disapproving hue, and the planes of his face set themselves hard, and he got rapidly out of bed and strode to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. She wanted to run after him and beg him to tell her what she had said to upset him. But, of course, she didn’t. Their marriage wasn’t like that, was it?
Instead she gathered her wrap about her and wandered along the landing until she found another bathroom, and showered briskly, washing her hair very vigorously. The next time they met up she was in the kitchen brewing coffee, her dressing-gown firmly belted, her wet hair brushed back from her face, and he was fully dressed and clean-shaven.
‘What shall I get us to eat?’ he asked. ‘Do you want a full English breakfast? I arranged for some farm-cured bacon to be bought in, and there are plenty of eggs.’
‘I think I’ll just have some fruit,’ she replied with a tight smile. ‘This coffee’s ready now. Shall I pour you a cup?’
Guy was squatting on his haunches in front of the fridge. ‘Thanks,’ he said absently, reaching in a hand to extract eggs and bacon. ‘No sugar in mine.’
‘I know,’ she said painfully. ‘I know you don’t take sugar. We’re married. I’m your wife now, remember?’
He straightened up and came across to her. In one hand he held a chilly package, wrapped in greaseproof paper, and in the other two cold eggs. He rested his forearms on her shoulders and crossed his wrists behind her neck. Then he stooped and kissed the top of her head. ‘We’ve got an awful lot to learn, haven’t we?’ he said softly.
Jane let her cheek rest against the clean, crisp cotton of his short-sleeved shirt. ‘I’m afraid we have,’ she sighed wistfully. Then she looked up into his eyes and smiled. ‘We have done the right thing, haven’t we Guy?’ she asked.
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