She had told herself that she did not want to accompany Robert to Theo’s that night. If Danny were there she might only embarrass them both by being unable to keep away from him – and if he were not, the more honest side of her admitted, the disappointment would be so great that she could not face the thought of an evening of card-playing and conversation as if nothing were amiss. But at the last moment the temptation to see him, to be near him, was too much and she went, as she supposed she had always known she would.
Theo was out of sorts. ‘Haven’t seen yer in days, dammit! Where yer bin, gel? Fair-weathered friend, eh? Bit o’ rain an’ yer run fer cover?’
She smiled. ‘No, of course not.’ Her eyes searched the room.
‘What did yer think of my little surprise, then?’ He cocked his head and looked at her slyly.
Absurdly she was so distrait that she could not for the moment think what he meant. ‘Oh – you mean Danny? It was a wonderful surprise. How did you find him?’
He tapped his nose, knowingly. ‘Not a lot goes on in this city I don’t know about, gel.’
‘Is he—’ She glanced around again, making an enormous effort to keep the strain from her voice, ‘Is he here tonight?’
The old eyes were very sharp. ‘Aye. He is.’
Her heart lurched uncomfortably. ‘Oh? I don’t see him.’
He cackled villainously. ‘He’s playin’ cards, gel. Upstairs. Got a gamblin’ streak in him has the lad.’
She nodded, absently. His claw-like hands closed painfully on her arm. ‘Come up to the library a minute, gel. Got somethin’ ter show yer. Fifteenth-century manuscript. In damn’ good condition—’
She passed a half hour with him over the manuscript, then wandered back into the main room where a rowdy and wine-fuelled game of charades was taking place. She watched for a while, only half her mind taking in the quarrelsome entertainment. Danny was here. Here, in the same house. It was as if she could sense his presence, sense his breath and his movement. But she could do nothing about it. She could not – would not! - pursue him in public. He had made it perfectly clear that her advances were not welcome – perhaps even an embarrassment—
‘Good evening.’ His voice was very quiet in her ear. ‘I’d given up. I thought you weren’t coming.’
It was utterly beyond her to hide what she knew showed in her eyes as she turned to him. She said nothing.
‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’ he asked.
‘The library—’
She allowed him to take her arm and to steer her to the library door, but then she broke free fiercely and walked swiftly away from him. Irrationally it was as if her anger at herself had spread to encompass him, and she would not look at him. As he shut the door and turned to her she held up her hands brusquely, palms out. ‘All right, all right, you don’t have to say it. I’m a silly little fool and you don’t want me trailing after you like a moonstruck child. Well, I can understand that. So let’s just leave it there, shall we?’
‘Jessie—!’
‘I’m sorry. I made an idiot of myself. It won’t happen again, I promise. It’s just that I – I’ve been looking for you for such a long time – and—’ She heard the perilous waver in her voice and stopped, biting her lip angrily.
‘Jessica—’ He held out a hand. There was a mortifying hint of laughter in his voice, ‘Come and sit down. You’re overwrought—’
She shook her head.
He extended the friendly hand further, cocked his head a little, waiting.
Reluctantly then she came to him, allowed him to draw her down beside him on the sofa.
‘What on earth was all that about?’ he asked, mildly.
She was fighting tears, and she was not winning. She shook her head.
‘Tell me.’
She lifted her head. He was watching her, very seriously, a look of tenderness in his eyes that almost undermined her strength completely. She looked away, down at the hands that were clenched in her lap. ‘I love you,’ she said, very very quietly and with her voice tightly controlled. ‘I know it sounds ridiculous, but I’ve always loved you. Ever since the first day I saw you I’ve loved you. But I was too young, and Caroline took you from me. And then – you had to go away. It was horrible. I thought I’d die. I was so sure I’d never see you again.’ She faltered for a moment. He said nothing. She dared not look at him. ‘And now I’ve found you again, and you don’t—’ she faltered a little, swallowed, ‘—don’t want me. Why should you? I understand that. And I’m trying to be sensible. But – but I can’t help it if it hurts—’ All at once she gave up the unequal fight with her tears and buried her face in her hands, sobbing like the child she was trying so fiercely to convince him she was not.
He let her cry for a moment, making no move towards her. Then as her sobs subsided a little he produced a folded handkerchief and offered it, wordlessly.
Without looking at him she took it, mopped her eyes, blew her nose, sniffed like an urchin then sat screwing the damp handkerchief into a ball in her fingers.
She saw his movement a fraction of a second before his fingers caught her chin and, despite her stubborn resistance, turned her face to his. Astoundingly and infuriatingly he was laughing. ‘Just look at you, child! What a state you’ve talked yourself into!’ Angrily she pulled back, but he held her. Then, slowly and with gentle deliberation he kissed her, ignoring the small, hiccoughing sobs that still shook her. She sat, shocked to stillness, her eyes wide open, hardly responding to the soft touch of his lips. He drew back, took the handkerchief from her strengthless fingers, wiped her eyes and then kissed her again. This time she kissed him back and it was some long moments before they drew apart.
She watched him, wonderingly, half distrustful.
He held up a schoolmaster’s finger. ‘That,’ he said, ‘I believe destroys the best part of your case. Now – perhaps we can get down to talking sensibly?’ His voice was light. His expression was not.
‘Danny—’
‘Not a word.’ He stopped her with his finger again, ‘You’ve had your say. And pretty silly some of it was, if you don’t mind my saying so. Now it’s my turn.’
He watched her for a long, unnerving moment in silence.
She waited.
‘The one thing in the world that I don’t want—’ he corrected himself, ‘—that I know I mustn’t do is to hurt you,’ he said at last, quietly. ‘Wait—!’ he shook his head sharply as she opened her mouth to protest. ‘I’ve made enough mistakes – caused enough pain, knowingly and unknowingly – to know what I’m saying. So – please – listen to me.’ He paused, obviously choosing his words carefully. ‘You’re unhappy with Robert. That’s not a good reason for thinking yourself in love with me.’
‘It’s not the reason,’ she said, immediately and positively. ‘I know it. And I’m not thinking it. It’s true.’
‘Perhaps. But you have to recognize it as a possibility. And as for me – as you must certainly have guessed my own marriage is hardly the happiest union in the world. Whether you care to face it or not that could give me a very good reason indeed for—’ he hesitated, ‘—consoling myself with you.’
‘I don’t care why you do it,’ she said, simply and honestly, ‘I just want you to do it.’
‘Jessica!’ He was exasperated. ‘You don’t – you truly don’t – know what you’re saying!’
‘I know I love you,’ she said, staunchly and certainly, ‘I know that I always have. And I want you to love me.’
‘Love!’ He threw back his head in a small gesture of despair. ‘Love?’
‘Yes,’ she said, stubborn as a child.
He drew a long breath. She watched him intently. ‘Jessie,’ he said at last. ‘You must forgive me if my faith in the power of love – perhaps even my understanding of the word – is a little different than yours. It doesn’t stop people hurting each other. Quite the contrary—’
‘I don’t care! I know what you’re trying to say. I know I’m an i
nnocent and you’ve had hundreds of women—’ His eyes widened a little at that, and his mouth twitched, ‘—but I don’t care! Danny, please believe me. I’m not as stupid as I seem. I know the risks. And I’m ready to take them.’
‘For now. What of later?’
‘We’ll face that when it comes.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘Why not?’ She was becoming bolder.
‘What do you mean?’
She forced cool reason into her voice. ‘From the sound of what you’re saying you’ve hurt plenty of others. Why not me?’
‘Because you’re different—’
‘How? How – different?’
‘I – don’t know.’
‘Perhaps you should try to find out?’
He half laughed. ‘Jessie—’
Impulsively she caught his hands. ‘Danny, listen to me. If you’re trying to frighten me away for my own good you’re simply wasting your breath. I told you; I love you. Nothing you can say will change that. I know. I don’t care what you are, I don’t care what’s gone before. I don’t care if you can only give me a part of yourself. I don’t care if we’re both married. I don’t care how impossible it all is—’ She paused for breath, then added on a quick spurt of nervous laughter ‘—damn it, I don’t care if the world is going to end next week! I just want you to love me. For now – not necessarily for ever – I’m not asking the impossible. I won’t demand a lifetime’s devotion if that’s not what you’re ready to give. But we don’t have to think of that now. We’re here. We’re together. To me, for now, that’s all that counts – and I won’t have you talking me out of today because you feel some guilt about yesterday or some fear of what you might do to me tomorrow. That’s my responsibility, not yours. I’m not a child any more. I’m a grown woman, and I want you. The only thing, the one and only thing, that would send me from you, would be for you to tell me that you don’t want me. Are you going to tell me that? If so – do it now. And I promise you I’ll never bother you again. But if you are going to say then please say it quickly, before I make a worse fool of myself—’
Their hands were still linked. She felt his grip tighten. Steadily she held his eyes. He said nothing.
‘I wouldn’t tie you down,’ she said, softly. ‘I’d never demand more than you’re ready to give.’ Brave, foolish words.
He drew her to him and kissed her. She put every ounce of her love and her longing into her response. His hands brushed her bare arms, moved to her shoulders, slipped into the bodice of her dress to the naked smooth skin of her breast. When his probing fingers closed over her rigid nipple she gasped, her mouth opening under his. Urgently he pulled her dress from her shoulders, baring her breasts to his hands. As fierce as he she pressed herself to him. Then, suddenly, she found herself put from him very firmly, his big hands competently tidying her clothes.
‘Danny—!’
‘No.’ There was no disguising the urgency of his need – his body proclaimed it, and the look in his eyes. ‘Not now. Not here.’
‘When? Where?’ She was shameless. Had he suggested the Piazza del Duomo at midday she would have agreed.
‘Can I come to your apartment?’
‘Yes.’
‘When?’
She thought for only a moment. ‘Tomorrow afternoon. Robert has a lesson from two till four.’
He leaned forward and kissed her, very lightly. ‘I’ll be there.’
She had recovered enough composure to muster a smile. ‘Two hours late?’
‘Not two minutes,’ he said.
* * *
He was true to his word. The clocks and bells of the city were combining their tongues to proclaim the hour of two when he swung, walking quickly, around the corner of the via Condotta. This time she was on the balcony, openly watching for him, and had run to the door and opened it before he had reached the top of the staircase. She had slept hardly at all that night, had lived since the evening before in a whirl of unclouded happiness that had made the world and everything it held a delight. The smallest thing had been a wonder – the pale sunshine of February, the sound of the church bells, the skyline of the city against the breezy sky. The thought of Danny had heightened her senses more surely than any drug, and she sang as she helped Angelina tidy the apartment.
Robert, working at the piano, had grunted at her greeting and not looked up. Absorbed in her own excitement she had left him to his labours. After lunch, still moody, he had left for his lesson with the Maestro and, a half hour later Angelina, happy to be given the afternoon off to visit her family, had left too. When Danny arrived the apartment was empty and quiet. Almost before the door closed behind him she was in his arms. Their lovemaking the first time was urgent and wild, and he hurt her more than a little, but she did not care. The driving strength of his body, the violent surge of her own desire, released at last, brought them to a swift climax that moved Jessica to joyous tears and released from Danny a sharp cry of pleasure and triumph. Afterwards they lay together naked upon her bed and with a gentleness that astounded her he loved her again, stroking and kissing, arousing her with skill and tenderness until, tired as she was, she cried out for him and he took her again. They slept then for a while, and woke in the same moment.
‘I’m starving,’ she said.
He grunted sleepily and wrapped his long arms about her. ‘Little pig. Is that all you can think of in such a moment?’
She giggled. ‘It’s all I can manage just now.’ She struggled through his embrace, surfaced, cheerfully dishevelled, and lay propped on one elbow looking down at him, drinking in greedily every small detail of his face – the already familiar curve of the scar on his cheek, the relaxed line of his strong mouth, the lashes that lay curled like a child’s against the darkness of his skin.
He made a small, grumbling noise. ‘What a fidget you are, child!’
She kissed him; kissed his eyes, his nose, his mouth, his throat, his chest.
‘Careful,’ he said.
She laughed again, the sound of unflawed happiness. ‘Don’t be silly. Look at you – you’re harmless as a baby—!’
His eyes snapped open, and grinning he reached for her. She squealed, struggling, as he wrestled her beneath him, pinning her down. Then, on a breath of laughter he laid his face upon her breasts, groaning comically. ‘You’re right – witch! You’ve drained me!’ He relaxed on top of her, a dead weight. For a moment she let her fingers follow the lines of his face, brushing his cheekbone, running along the line of his mouth, laughing as he nibbled her fingertip, then stroking his hair.
‘You’re squashing the life out of me.’
‘Serves you right.’
She pulled his hair, hard.
‘Ouch!’ He rolled over, with her on top of him.
‘A cup of tea, Mr O’Donnel?’ she asked, politely. ‘And a slice of cake perhaps? I made it myself.’
‘What did you put in it?’
She considered gravely. ‘Several love potions and an aphrodisiac. I may have overdone it a little – but I’ve got you now, and I’m not letting you go too easily.’
‘God, woman, you’ll kill me!’
She ran her hand lightly down his body, laughed as she felt immediately the stir of his manhood. ‘Unlikely, Mr O’Donnel,’ she said, rolling off him before he could hold her and landing on her feet beside the bed like a cat. ‘Very, very unlikely!’
They drank their tea and ate their cake naked in the bedroom sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching each other, laughing like children. Jessica gobbled her second slice of cake and licked the sweet crumbs from her fingers. ‘What time is it?’
‘Nearly quarter to four.’
She sighed, and the happy look faded a little from her face. ‘Robert will be home in half an hour or so. I suppose we should get dressed.’
‘It might not be a bad idea, Mrs FitzBolton,’ he said, lightly.
She stiffened, laid her plate down upon the bedspread and
turned her back to him, swinging her feet to the floor. ‘Please. Don’t call me that. I’m not his wife.’
He said nothing.
She glanced at him, sharply. ‘I’m not!’
He stretched a hand and touched her sticky fingers. ‘The world says you are.’
‘The world can say what it likes.’ She stood and turned to face him, her young body shining like pearl in the dull light, her small, rose-tipped breasts moving with her breath. ‘I know what I know,’ she said, ‘and be damned to the world.’
With no word he stood and took her in his arms. They stood so, quite still, for a long moment, her face laid upon his warm chest, eyes tight closed.
‘You’d better get dressed, my love,’ he said at last, gently. ‘Before you take cold.’
He left before Robert came. Jessica tidied the bed, washed the cups and plates then sat lost in thought in front of the drawing room fire.
‘Will you tell Robert?’ he had asked as he had left.
‘I – don’t know. Perhaps – not yet.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know.’ The wretchedness of seeing him leave sounded in her disconsolate voice.
He had kissed her, smiling. ‘Cheer up, little one. I’ll come tomorrow, if you’d like?’
‘Oh, yes! Yes!’ She had clung to him. ‘Danny?’
‘Yes?’
‘Will you tell Serafina?’
Why had she wanted so very badly that he should say yes?
She had felt the slight resistance in him. ‘No.’
She had repeated his own question. ‘Why not?’
‘I won’t have to. She’ll know.’
‘Will she mind?’
‘Yes.’
‘But – I thought – that is—’
‘That we lived our own lives? Went our own way? That Serafina has a lover for each day of the week and two for Sundays?’ Softly bitter, his tone had cut her to the heart, ‘Oh yes. That’s all true. But it doesn’t stop her from trying to hold with her greedy little fingers anything that she considers to be her own.’
‘What – will she do?’
He had laughed a little grimly and shaken his head. ‘Don’t worry about it, little Mouse. I’ve many times faced the worst that Serafina can do and survived.’
The Hawthorne Heritage Page 36
