‘Wow,’ she breathed. ‘I think if I came here to study I’d never get any work done. I’d just want to sit and take in my surroundings.’
Jonathan looked at her strangely. ‘I suppose it is magnificent,’ he said. ‘I guess I stopped seeing it after a while.’ His mouth turned up at the corners in the way that always made her knees go weak. ‘I love seeing it all through your eyes. It’s like I never really saw it before.’
Rose’s heart squeezed. Why did he keep saying those things? Making her believe he could love her?
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘It gets better.’ He led her through another archway that led onto a covered bridge. The stone bridge was intricately carved. Someone must have spent years working on it. Her father would love to see it, as only one artisan could really appreciate the work of another.
‘I can see why it’s called the Bridge of Sighs,’ Rose said. ‘It’s so beautiful, you just want to sigh with pleasure when you see it.’
‘It’s named after the Bridge of Sighs in Venice,’ Jonathan told her. ‘People think it’s a copy but, apart from the romanticism of the two bridges, all they have in common is that they are both covered.’
‘Hey, don’t spoil it for me. Imagine being able to do that.’ Rose half smiled. ‘I love that so I’ll have one built just like it where I live.’ She turned to Jonathan. ‘That’s the kind of world you live in,’ she said softly. ‘Where money and position makes anything possible.’
‘You don’t approve?’
‘I don’t approve or disapprove. I just can’t imagine ever being in that position.’ And that was the truth. Her world and Jonathan’s were miles apart. They could have come from different planets for all they had in common.
‘We’re not so different, really, you and I, Rose.’ Jonathan lifted his hand and tipped her chin until she was looking directly in his eyes.
Strange feelings were fizzing around inside Rose, making her breathless. What was he doing? Was he trying to make her fall in love with him? Didn’t he know he had already succeeded? She pulled away, putting distance between them. If she stayed near him, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from winding her arms around his neck.
‘So where’s the college you went to? What did you say it was called?’
‘Trinity. We can get to it this way.’ He took her hand again and led her towards a building covered in what looked like ivy, but which was what Jonathan told her was Virginia creeper. He pointed upwards. ‘My last room was up there. It had a view of the river. Come and see the chapel.’
The chapel was breathtaking with its high arched ceilings and stained-glass windows. Pews lined either side, with a candle at each seat. Rose could imagine evening service, especially in the winter with the snow lying thickly outside and the music of the choir in the soft candlelight. She could appreciate the history in every stone, every worn flagstone and see, in her mind’s eye, the centuries of scholars who had walked down the aisle before her.
‘Seen enough?’ Jonathan said quietly. He had been standing behind her, watching her closely.
She nodded. The more she knew about Jonathan the more she knew how much she wished things could have been different. The Jonathan she was learning about was someone she could imagine a future with. If she had one. The knowledge that soon she would be leaving, probably never to see him again, was tearing her up inside.
‘If you want to look around some more, I’ll just get the picnic from the car. When you’ve seen enough, wait for me down by the river. I’ll only be a few minutes.’
Rose wandered around, torn up inside. In this chapel she could let herself hope that somehow everything would work out fine and that some kind of miracle would happen, freeing her from the threat of death hanging over her, giving her back her future. But she couldn’t let herself think like that. Even if this thing inside her head never changed, even if she lived a long time, she still couldn’t ever risk having children.
Pain lanced through her. She would have loved babies. Two, maybe three. Why did life have to be so unfair? She shook her head, angrily brushing away the tears that stung her eyes. There was no point in feeling sorry for herself. She had to stay positive. Back in Edinburgh she had a job she loved, many friends and her music. It was entirely possible that she would have many years in front of her to enjoy life. That would have to be enough. She would make it enough. Even if it was to be a life without children—or Jonathan.
By the time she made her way down to the river bank, she had managed to get her emotions back under control and when Jonathan appeared with the picnic basket, she laughed. Grief, how many did he think he was catering for? She couldn’t help but look past him, half expecting a stream of his friends to be following close behind. But, no, it seemed as if it really was just the two of them.
‘What on earth have you got in there? A kitchen sink? The kitchen?’
‘I don’t know, but it’s damned heavy. They kept on asking me what I wanted and I didn’t have a clue, so I said yes to everything. They did say there was wine, plates, a tablecloth. For all I know, they’ve stuck a set of tables and chairs in there while they were at it.’
‘As long as the weight doesn’t sink us.’
‘Nope, we should be fine.’ He lugged the basket down to the bank of the river. After a few words with the person hiring out the punts Jonathan jumped into one and set the basket down. He then helped Rose into the boat. She was delighted to find that her seat was padded and comfortable. She sat back, trailing her hand in the water as Jonathan balanced on the other end of the punt, using the long pole to push away from the side of the river.
Rose closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her face and allowing the gentle splash of water as Jonathan pushed them along to soothe her. They passed under overhanging trees of willows, their long branches reaching into the river. Rose was pleasantly surprised. This was exactly the kind of day out she loved. Jonathan had got it exactly right. It seemed she was always having to reassess her opinion of him. And the more she found out about him, the deeper she fell in love. Her heart contracted with the pain of it. How was she going to find the strength to leave him when the time came? She pushed the thought away, not wanting to spoil another moment of whatever time she had left with him.
‘Aren’t you going to serenade me?’ she asked, looking at him through slitted eyes. ‘Isn’t that a necessary part of the deal?’
‘You obviously haven’t heard me sing, or you wouldn’t be suggesting it.’ He grinned back. ‘But you can sing well enough for both of us.’
She shook her head sleepily. ‘I can’t sing without my guitar. Don’t know why. Maybe it’s because it gives me something to hide behind.’
As soon as the words were out, she could have bitten her tongue.
Jonathan looked at her curiously. ‘Why would you want to hide? Do you truly not know how beautiful you are?’
Rose snorted. ‘Nice try, Jonathan, but save the compliments for someone who believes them.’
‘Has anyone ever told you that you are the most exasperating woman? Or that when someone gives you a compliment, a sincere compliment, you should accept it with good grace?’
‘In which case, thank you, kind sir. And has anyone ever told you that you have a fine punting action?’
Jonathan laughed and passed a hand across his forehead. ‘It’s much warmer than I thought it would be. Would you mind if I took my shirt off?’
Ever the gentleman. All the men of Rose’s acquaintance would have removed their shirts whenever they felt like it. But as Jonathan shrugged out of his, she bit down on her lip. Maybe she should have insisted he keep it on. Now she was going to have to keep her eyes averted from his chest lest he read some of the thoughts that were going through her head. She smiled. A man like Jonathan probably had a very good idea of was going through her mind.
‘Would you like to try?’ he asked. ‘It’s really very easy.’
‘Sure,’ Rose said.
‘Okay, come over to where I am.’
Rose picked her way to the stern of the boat, where Jonathan was standing. As she came alongside him, the boat wobbled. In a flash Jonathan wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her. A tingling sensation started in her waist and was soon fizzing around her body. Just for a second she let herself breath in heady scent of his aftershave mixed with the masculine smell of his sweat. Then he released her gently.
‘Stand with your legs slightly apart for balance. Then you push the pole all the way down until it touches the bottom. Push hard then pull it all the way up. No, that’s not enough.’ His hands were on hers, guiding them, and she could feel the heat of his body as he stood behind her. It was making her flustered. ‘You have to pull the pole through your hands until you’re almost gripping the bottom. And if you want to steer, you push the pole, when it’s in the water, to the left or the right. Got it?’
It was much more difficult than Jonathan had made it look. The pole was heavy, unwieldy and Rose was glad Jonathan stayed where he was to help her. Nevertheless, she was determined to do it on her own, and after a little while she got into a rhythm.
‘I can manage by myself from here on,’ she told Jonathan. ‘You sit down.’
‘Er, are you sure? It can be hard work.’
She turned to look into his face. ‘I can do this. Now, scoot. Go and relax.’
Okay, so their progress wasn’t quite as smooth as it had been. The punt had a disconcerting habit of weaving from one side of the river bank to another, almost as if the damn thing had a life of its own, but at least she hadn’t crashed it, and they were heading in the right general direction.
‘The bridge we’re passing under now is called the mathematical bridge,’ Jonathan said. Rose allowed herself a quick glance up and away from what she was doing. The bridge was an odd-looking wooden affair, as if a child had taken giant wooden Meccano and stuck it all together. It didn’t look very mathematical.
‘Why do they call it that?’
‘I’m not absolutely sure. Rumour has it that it was originally put together without nuts and bolts and a mathematician at one of the colleges wanted to know how it was done. So he pulled it apart. Only he couldn’t get it to go back together without nuts and bolts.’
Rose peered at the bridge again, trying to see better. But with her attention distracted, she suddenly realised that she had forgotten to lift the pole from the water and it was now behind her. Panicking lest she drop the pole into the river, she held on for dear life. But all that happened was that she was pulled out of the punt and into the water.
She shrieked as she was submerged in water the colour of pea soup. Disoriented, she bobbed to the surface, gasping.
Jonathan had retrieved an oar from the bottom of the punt and was making his way back to her.
‘You should have told me you fancied a swim,’ he said, reaching an arm out to her. ‘I would have found a better place.’
Rose was mortified and scowled when she saw the broad grin on his face.
She grabbed his hand and found herself unceremoniously hauled back into the punt where she lay gasping like a fish that had just been landed.
‘Are you okay?’ Jonathan had lost the smile and was looking concerned. But Rose could have sworn there was a hint of laughter in his words.
‘Apart from the fact I feel like a prize idiot and that I’m soaked, yes, I’m fine. You could even say I’ve never been better.’ She glared at him, but then despite herself she had to laugh. It hadn’t been Jonathan’s fault and from his point of view it must have been funny.
Jonathan retrieved the pole from the water.
‘Shall we go back?’
‘I’d rather get dried out first. I don’t fancy having to walk through Cambridge town centre like this.’
‘The place I was going to stop is just a little further.’
A few metres on and Rose was being helped out of the punt onto dry land. Jonathan heaved the picnic basket on shore and opened it. He pulled out a white linen tablecloth.
‘Take this,’ he said ‘Remove your wet things and wrap this around you.’ He pointed to some trees. ‘There’s a little hollow over there. You can’t be seen unless someone actually stands over you. Your things will dry out in the sun.’
It was getting worse and worse. But Rose knew the sensible thing was to do as he suggested. The alternative, waiting for her clothes to dry while she was actually in them, wasn’t really an option. She would freeze.
In the relative privacy of the hollow, she slipped out of her sundress. Leaving on her bra and pants, she wrapped the sheet around her toga style. Making sure the ends were firmly tucked in, she laid her dress on the grass to dry. At least she had taken her shoes off when she had first stepped on to the punt, otherwise they’d be ruined.
By the time she returned, Jonathan had emptied the picnic basket. He raised an eye at her unconventional outfit before opening a Thermos flask and pouring a cup of steaming-hot coffee.
‘Here, this will warm you up.’ Then he laughed. ‘You look like a Greek goddess in that get-up.’
Rose squirmed with embarrassment under his gaze. Greek goddess, her foot. More like a drowned rat, she would have thought.
He handed her his shirt. ‘Put this round your shoulders. It will help keep you warm.’
Rose shrugged into the shirt, which smelled faintly of him. It came to just above her knees and realising it would cover the essentials she slithered out of the tablecloth. Now she felt almost normal again. She used the tablecloth to blot the worst of the river from her hair.
‘So much for the tablecloth, I’m afraid.’ She laid it next to her dress. The sun would dry it along with her clothes.
‘You’re still cold.’ Jonathan reached out and took her feet in his hands. He began massaging them with the pads of his thumbs. Delicious ripples ran from her feet before pooling in her belly. She tried to pull her feet away, but Jonathan held them firmly. Giving up, she relaxed, propping herself on her elbows and closing her eyes, giving in to the interesting sensations his touch was provoking. The sun emerged from the clouds, warming her face. In the distance she could hear laughter as children played and the gentle sound of the breeze through the leaves of the tree. In all her dreams she would never have imagined this scenario. She and Jonathan, just the two of them, as if they were meant to be together, for ever. If she had known, she would have run and kept on running. Fate was cruel. To show her love now, to give her a glimpse of what might have been, was so unfair.
‘That’s better,’ Jonathan said, releasing her feet. ‘Now, what about something to eat?’
Rose wasn’t sure whether she could eat anything. Her mouth was as dry as dust. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Jonathan unpacked the basket, laying out a bottle of wine, glasses, china plates and cutlery. Next came the food. There were tiny quiches, olives, crusty bread, cheese, cold meats. As Rose had suspected, there was enough to feed an army. Her mouth began to water. It had been a long time since breakfast.
Jonathan lifted an olive. ‘You like?’ he asked with a quirk of his lips. Rose nodded.
He held the olive to her lips. Her eyes looked into his and her breath stopped in her throat as her chest tightened. Involuntarily her lips parted and he popped the olive into her mouth. He watched as she chewed slowly, never taking his eyes off her. Rose’s heart was beating like a pneumatic drill and she couldn’t believe he didn’t hear it. He trailed a finger across her lips, catching a slick of olive oil. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he leaned forward and placed his mouth gently on hers. Her head swam as she tasted him. The firm pressure of his mouth. His tongue flicking across hers. He groaned and pulled her into his arms where she rested between his long legs. His kisses grew more demanding. Rose gave in to the sensations coursing through her body, returning kiss for kiss. Letting her hands drift behind his head to pull him closer, revelling in the taste of him, the warmth of his skin, the solid strength of his muscles.
He trailed a hand across her neck, sending sparks of des
ire coursing through her. His hand slipped under the shirt she was wearing, searching, caressing her skin until she thought she would go mad with her need from him.
They lay down, stretching their bodies along each other, straining to meet along their whole length. She could feel the hardness of his desire for her against her hips and she shifted her body so that she fitted against him perfectly.
‘I’ve never met anyone like you,’ Jonathan said eventually. ‘I can’t believe I’ve lived almost thirty years without meeting you. I think I’ve been looking for you all my life.’
A cold breeze fluttered down Rose’s spine. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him, or him with her. It was meant to be harmless fun. No broken hearts on either side. A few more days, then she’d be out of his life for good. The sun vanished behind a cloud. She shivered.
‘You’re cold,’ Jonathan said. He reached out a hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘Why don’t we take the rest of this back to my place? I can light a fire, and we can eat the rest of the picnic in bed.’ His eyes were glowing. There was no mistaking his intent. His green eyes were dark, almost pleading.
Rose knew she should run, but she also knew she couldn’t. If all she had was this one night, then she had to have it. She could no more deny herself than fly to the moon.
Jonathan watched as Rose packed the food back into the basket. When he had seen her emerge from behind the tree, her damp hair in disarray, he had thought he had never seen anyone more beautiful, or more desirable. Then when she had slipped into his shirt, her long legs appearing to go for miles where his shirt skimmed her bottom, her nipples evident through the sheer fabric, she had sent his libido into overdrive. He much preferred this Rose even to the elegant woman of the fundraising dinner. Damn. He much preferred this woman to any of the sleek, polished women he had been out with over the years. What he had felt for them had been lust, pure and simple. What he felt for Rose was different. Desire, yes. So much it hit him like a punch to his solar plexus. But so much more. Tenderness. Joy in her company. Delight in seeing his world through her eyes. He reeled from the mixture of fear and excitement as he realised the truth. He loved Rose Taylor. He had been waiting for her all his life, and from now on nothing would ever be the same.
Prince Charming of Harley Street / The Heart Doctor and the Baby Page 14
