'Hurry,' he said, and his voice sounded strange, urgent, roughened. He drew her down the narrow corridor, his hand gripping her arm painfully, unlocked the door, and drew her inside. Just in the room, his back to the door, he leaned against it and slipped the lock. His breath was coming quickly, and Luisa could not release her eyes from the compulsion in his. Her pulse raced, her skin ached to be touched by him; want curved and arced up inside her, a wanting so urgent her mind had no time to control it.
'Come here.'
Roughly he pulled her into his arms; she caught her breath with a sharp cry as she felt his lips against hers.
'Now, Luisa,' he said, against her mouth. 'Now, we mustn't talk, you and I. It has to be this way—first.'
CHAPTER SEVEN
'Yes?'
He had drawn her over to the bed. She nodded silently, unable to meet his eyes, and she heard him draw in his breath sharply. He was standing in front of her, close to her, loosening his tie. Impatiently, carelessly, he threw it aside, and his jacket. Want for him still sang through her veins, but she felt awkward, suddenly shy, desperately uncertain what she should do. Obviously he expected her to undress, and with shaking hands she reached for the fastening of her dress, slipped off her shoes. But her hands felt numb; her cheeks burned. Without looking up she sensed that he had paused, was watching her, and then suddenly he bent and drew her upright. Fiercely, possessively, he encircled her in his arms, forcing her face up so that she had to meet his gaze. He looked at her for a moment, his face grave, questioning, as if disconcerted by her hesitation. In that second Luisa hated herself for her inexperience; this was not how his women usually behaved, she could see it in his eyes. Was it so difficult, after all? Why could she not…
'Come here.'
His firm hands reached for the fastening of the dress. Calmly, surely he undid it, let it slip from her shoulders to the floor, helped her out of it. She shivered, the cool shadowed air suddenly cold against her skin, and Julius caught her against him. Their eyes locked for an instant; neither spoke.
Gently he pushed her back on to the edge of the bed, knelt, and undid her stockings, slipping the silk easily from her smooth skin. He bent his head, his lips brushing the skin of her thighs lightly, and she heard herself give a low moan. Then he pushed her back, so she lay stretched across the cool sheets, and she felt his hands, very softly, touch her neck, the silk that covered her breasts. She closed her eyes, and let him undress her. But then, when she was naked, she could not look at him. She heard him give a deep sigh, then he moved; she heard the quick impatience with which he took off his clothes, but still she could not force herself to look at him. She had never seen a man naked before; she was afraid.
She felt, rather than saw, him lie down beside her, felt his hands turn her face towards him, trace the lines of her face, his lips press themselves lightly against her eyelids. Gently he stroked the hair from her forehead, smoothing it away from her face, plaiting it, twining it through his fingers. He moved a little, and a shock ran through her whole body as she felt his skin, warm against hers. She opened her eyes. He was looking down into her face, with an expression so intent, so unfathomable, so dark it was like the sea. Looking into his face it was as if time contracted; the past ten years were gone in an instant, time stopped in the hush of the room.
'Julius,' she said softly, wonderingly, and at her voice she felt his hard body stir against her.
'Luisa, touch me.'
He took her hand, and she let him guide her. Timidly, wonderingly, she touched the lines of his face, his neck, his hair, and then down to his shoulders. He clasped her hand tightly, and held it against his chest, so that she could feel through her fingertips the thudding of his heart, and at that, involuntarily, she caught her breath, arched herself against him, felt, with a tremor that ran through her whole body, his flesh against her flesh, the long line of their bodies, pressed close against one another.
'Touch me.'
Her fingers curled tight in the soft hair of his chest, traced the hard line of his muscles. Then she let him draw her hand down, down, over the taut line of his stomach, the narrow hips, to the hard thighs pressed against her. She felt him shudder under her touch, and suddenly all fear left her. She let him guide her, and felt him alive, strong, hard, there at the core of his being, where his body flexed involuntarily at the touch of her long delicate hands. With a low groan he caught her to him suddenly, reaching for her lips. He muttered something she could not hear, and her lips parted under his, as he drew her arms around him in the lock of a tight embrace. Warmth flooded through her veins, the warmth, the infinite sweetness of his lips on hers; he kissed her fiercely, with a mounting urgency, a black tenderness that sucked her under in a swell of pleasure.
He laced their fingers together as they lay, and she felt her body begin to move under him, instinctively, intuitively, obeying a rhythm she had never realised she knew, arching her up, so that the soft curve of her belly, the long lines of her thighs pressed against him, felt his male strength, the hardness of him.
Then, very gently, moving so slowly she wanted to cry out, to beg him not to stop, to go on, on, he let his hands move up her arms, caressing the soft inner skin. Impulsively she caught his hands, trapped them, guided them to her throat, her breasts. And as they touched her there, she heard herself, as if from far away, give a little animal cry of want, felt his body flex, tense, move against her thighs.
'Oh now, Julius!' she cried out.
'Wait,' he said, and he lowered his mouth to her breasts. He was in control now; he would not let her hurry him, and slowly, feeling a liquid heat begin to pulse through her body, Luisa abandoned herself to him. She had no more control now, nothing, it was all gone, she was caught in a tide as powerful and implacable as the sea, and it was pushing her, pushing her, onwards, as his mouth sucked and kissed at her skin, and her own hands moved, wonderingly, more boldly, over the hard planes of his back, down the long curve of his spine, to the beautiful hard curve of his buttocks, his thighs.
His breath was coming fast; his heart, her own heart, seemed to thud together, to keep pace; their skins were wet, bathed in each other's sweat, so they moved together against one another like silk. Julius paused a moment, just long enough for want, desire, a new fierce impatience, to shudder through her. Then he touched her, there, where she craved him. He moved, roughly, quickly, and for a second she felt his weight against her, on her, though it gave her no pain to be crushed so, only pleasure.
'Luisa…' She felt him tense, lift, and he slid his hands under her back, lifting her up to the thrust of him. He moved against her, gently at first, but even so she cried out. Pain shot through her like the cut of a knife.
She felt him pause, and wanted to cry out something, anything, so that he would not stop now, no matter how much it hurt her. Oh God, let it be, her mind cried silently. Let it be now. And she opened her eyes.
He was poised above her, his eyes glittering, dark, intent, staring down into her face. For a second he seemed to hesitate, to draw back, and with a wild cry she pulled him down to her, arching her body up to him in offering. His eyes darkened, his face set.
He moved; she heard his voice cry out her name, once, as he entered her. They lay still for a moment, panting, their breath harsh, laboured in each other's ears; the pain flooded and ebbed.
'Yes,' she began to murmur softly, over and over, 'yes. Yes. Julius…'
Then, deep inside her, at the neck of her womb it seemed, she felt him move, and the miracle of that movement, the deep beating insistent pleasure it began pulsing through her veins, brought the tears starting to her eyes. With a moan she bound him to her in her arms.
'Give me your hand.' His voice was rough in her ears.
He took her hand, and led it down, over their damp skin, so that she could feel their closeness, and she cried out at the wonder of it, a strange harsh cry. Instant in response, his hold on her tightened, his body began to thrust against her with a new urgency; he was losin
g control. His hands moved, moved over her body; urgently his lips sought her breasts, her nipples hard, demanding, exquisitely sensitive under his tongue. His caresses were strange, maddening, arousing—at one moment gentle, the next fierce, the caresses of a wild animal. He was waiting for her, she could sense it, though when she looked at him her eyes were blinded by the violence of her feelings. He was taking her to some dark secret black place which she burned to reach, and she was so nearly there, so nearly…
He was speaking to her now, murmuring her name, words against her ear that quickened her flesh, made it molten under his. She felt his body tense, then shudder, his hands grip at her convulsively, so his nails bit deep into her bare skin with a climactic pleasure. He groaned aloud, and a shudder passed through his body that mirrored the sudden uncontrollable trembling of her own.
He cried her name once, as they came, and they clung together, bound in that last fierce release.
Then they lay still, their breath coming harshly. Slowly her body relaxed under him, gently, as the pulsing of her womb and her blood gradually ebbed. Such happiness, such peace, flooded up within her that it brought tears to her eyes. They coursed gently, warm against her cheeks under her closed lids. Julius kissed her again, kissed the tears away, kissed her lips, with a tenderness so profound she felt her heart could break from happiness. When he spoke her name, and he spoke it over and over again, his lips against hers, his voice was broken. After a little while he withdrew from her, and she cried to lose him, though she almost felt him within her still. He wrapped her in his arms, and as their breathing grew more steady, they slept.
She woke before he did, in the warm hush of the room. His head was against her heart, his arms wrapped around her, his chest rose and fell against her breast. One of his hands, in the abandonment of dreams, lay softly around her waist. She lay there for a while, half aware of the sounds beyond their windows, of the muffled cries from the piazzetta as the boats returned. It must be evening. Luisa looked down at Julius stealthily, afraid to move, to wake him, and as she looked down into his face, close in the impenetrable mask of sleep, her heart turned over within her. She loved him— loved him still, had always loved him. The knowledge of it was so fierce, yet so tender within her, that it gave her joy. She knew, she thought calmly, that he did not love her; but even that knowledge then, had no power to hurt her. She accepted it, without flinching. She thought, even so, we have this, and I love him so much. It is enough.
A little later, when still he slept deeply, she gently released her body from his arms, and slipped from the bed. She stood there, naked, in the cool shadows of the room, her body silvery, slight, her skin pale as the moon on water. She looked back at the bed, at the tiny complacent cherubim, at the man sleeping, his head dark on the pillows. The white sheets were crumpled. Where she had lain they were stained with bright blood. She went to the bed, and touched the mark delicately with her fingers, wonderingly; and as she did so, Julius woke, and his hand covered hers. Their eyes met, dark with a mutual knowledge.
'I hurt you.'
'A little.'
'And after?'
'You know after.' She smiled, the joy still secure in her heart. They looked at each other for a while in silence. She let her eyes rest, without shyness, on his nakedness, on the long powerful limbs, his skin tawny shadowed against the sheets. She saw his body move, stir, under her gaze, and his grip on her hand tightened.
'I want you, Luisa, Again—now. Oh, my darling!'
And he drew her to him.
Later he said, 'Do you want to go downstairs—go out for dinner?'
She shook her head, her eyes mocking him.
'No, Julius.'
'Neither do I.' There was a pause. 'Shall I ask them to send something up?'
'Yes, Julius.'
'Are you always this obedient?'
'Yes, Julius.'
'I shall test you, later.'
And later still, when the staff had brought food and champagne, and departed, and they had eaten a little, and the moon shone in, slanting through the shutters, and still they lay together in the wide bed, he said, his lips against her throat, his eyes suddenly dark, anxious,
'I always wanted to be the first, Luisa. And I thought…'
But she kissed his lips and stopped his words. He was right, she thought, it was better for them not to talk. When they talked things went wrong, the past came between them. It was better to stay here, she thought, touching him, in this dark secret world where they were beyond all words, did not need them. That world was so potent, it built walls around them, it locked out all misunderstandings.
When Julius took her again, sharply this time, quickly, with a passion that drained them both, she thought silently, I love you, Julius. She kissed the words against his lips, touched them against his skin, but she knew, somewhere in her heart, that it would be fatal to speak them.
And Julius seemed to sense that reticence, that refuge in her. Once, during the long night, when he was deep inside her, he forced her to open her eyes, to look at him.
'You are my wife now, Luisa,' he said, his voice roughened by desire. He shook her, holding her in a fierce grip. 'Say it to me. I want to hear you say it.'
'I am your wife, Julius,' she said.
She almost told him then; but she did not. She held the knowledge in her heart as she held him in her arms. It was better like that, safer; she welcomed the concealment.
In the morning, late, they had breakfast together. Luisa washed and dressed, and Julius watched her, as if he could not bear for an instant that she should not be in his sight.
'Shall we go to Torcello?'
'Yes.' She smiled at him gently. 'We can come back here, later.'
'You promise?' He laughed softly. 'Very well then, I'll get ready.'
Luisa stood as he had done, watching him as he showered, the water running over his lean tanned body, watching him as he dressed. In his clothes he frightened her a little now; she saw him again as she had before, formidable, distant, a man, not the lover who had lain with her all night. But she fought off the feelings; they were stupid, she told herself.
When they were almost ready to go, she hesitated. Unease took possession of her. She had a silly superstitious dread that if they left the protection of this room, this intimacy, something would go wrong, the spell would be broken.
But Julius crossed to her, as she waited, and drew her to him, kissing her deeply, as if sensing her fear. In his arms she at once felt it abate; it was all right, she told herself; they were all right, they took this secret world with them, it wrapped them.
As he was putting on his jacket, the telephone rang, and he cursed with exasperation.
'You go on down,' he said. 'I shan't be a moment. I'll meet you in the lobby.'
There the sun streamed in through the windows; it was a perfect day. Out in the bay one yacht curved over the water, its sails full with the wind.
'Signora Morrell!'
The name was so unfamiliar still Luisa did not turn immediately. Then she realised the manager had crossed to her. He smiled, made an ornate half bow, and she smiled too, happiness and surety returning to her.
'Isn't it the most beautiful day?'
'Bellissima, signora. But please—I have a telegram for you…'
She stared at him.
'For me? For Julius, surely…'
'No, for you, signora.'
He held it out for her, on a silver salver, and Luisa took it.
It was from her father. Luisa stared at it. How could he have found out where she was? Claudia knew, of course, but she was not likely to have told him, not unless it was an emergency of some sort, and… She stared at the words. It was not an emergency. It was the same predictable appeal. In need of funds urgentest. Canst help? Can meet you in Venice. Congratulations, Papa. Suddenly she felt angry. She did not hesitate. Rapidly her mind calculated. She had repaid the money Claudia had taken, to Julius, before the wedding. He had taken it silently, coldly, without a w
ord. There had only been a few hundred left after that, most of which was with her now, in travellers' cheques. She turned quickly to the manager.
'Can you telegraph some money for me, today, at once, to Rome?'
'But of course, signora, it will be a pleasure.'
Luisa rummaged in her bag, quickly signed the cheques and handed them over; she scrawled the address of his bank on a small card, and handed it to him.
'Please, it must go off at once. It's very urgent. And I must send a telegram.'
Wordlessly, he passed her a telegram form. She wrote: Money following today. I have no more. Please do not come to Venice. Luisa.
She read over the telegram, hesitated, then passed it across. It was no good making it sound gentler, fonder, she knew that. If she did, he might actually come here, and she couldn't bear it. She thought: Once I would have acted differently; not now.
'That will be all right? You're sure?'
'But no problem, signora. Buon giorno.'
He bowed once more and disappeared into the back office. As he went Luisa felt her heart lift. The money was gone; the inheritance was gone. It was finished. She felt as if she had laid the past, freed herself. By the time Julius joined her, she was standing outside in the sunlight, and her gaiety matched his.
'We're invited to a party,' he told her, as he led her along the quay to where the ferryboats between the islands were moored. 'A very old friend of mine—I acted for her husband once, years ago. The Principessa Guardi—she has a house on the Giudecca. And she wants to meet my wife.' Their eyes met, and the clarity, the happiness in his seemed to reflect her own. 'She's old now, but indomitable, and her house is quite amazing. I should like you to see it.'
'I should like to go.' She smiled at him. 'When is it?'
'Tonight. But it's a Venetian party, it won't begin until very late. So…-'
He left the rest of the sentence unspoken, but took her hand in his. She felt again that familiar weakening, the pulse beat through her blood, and she saw he felt something too, he could not hide it from his face. Her heart lifted. There was nothing to worry about, she told herself. They were bound, they were safe.
The Devil's Advocate Page 14
