Loveknot

by Catherine George

  "Will I do as I am?" she asked.

  "Since you forgot to _mention any plans for this evening, I haven't brought a change of clothes."

  Because Dr Gordon had provided his daughter with a generous sum to spend on an outfit for the wedding, she had succumbed to the temptation of cashmere the colour of milk chocolate, the thigh length tunic and brief straight skirt severely plain, unadorned by anything except the wide tortoise shell bracelet on Sophie's wrist.

  "Oh, you'll do," Alexander informed her, after a long, leisurely survey of her person.

  "But I'd like a minute or two to change, if you'll bear with me."

  "Of course." Sophie took the tea-tray off to the kitchen, feeling ridiculously shy, to her annoyance, glad of a mundane chore like washing cups.

  Alexander was back very quickly, his pinstriped Valentine suit replaced by heavy black jersey trousers, and zippered wool jacket over a white wool shirt. “Right, then, Sophie. Let's go," he said briskly.

  "Where?"

  "On a picnic."

  Sophie stared at him in amazement as he hurried her out of the house to the car.

  "You've noticed it's almost dark, I suppose," she said, as she slid inside.

  "And chilly!"

  Alexander looked smug.

  "I have. But it won't affect the picnic, I promise. Be fair. You said I could take you out occasionally for a meal. You didn't specify where."

  Sophie giggled suddenly, her spirits rising as they left Deansbury behind.

  "A picnic will certainly be a change from Enzio's!"

  "Julian's favourite restaurateur, I assume," said Alexander scathingly.

  "Where the socialites of Deansbury go to see and be seen.

  Nothing like that tonight, sweetheart. Just you and me. "

  A tremor ran up Sophie's spine at the prospect, and Alexander, attuned to it instantly, placed a long- fingered hand on her knee.

  "My sole aim is to cheer you up, little sister, I promise, because I could tell the | blues were threatening a bit when your father went off with Kate."

  Sophie sighed.

  "Yes. Human nature's very strange, isn't it? I've been yearning for my freedom for so long, and now I've been handed it on a plate, so to speak, I don't know quite what to do with it."

  "You'll soon adjust," he assured her, and began to talk about the wedding.

  It was some time before Sophie could pluck up the courage to ask the question which had been niggling at her all day.

  "Alexander was it all very painful for you today?"

  Alexander drove in silence for a while.

  "To be honest," he said slowly,

  "I did have cold feet about it beforehand. Quite unnecessarily, as it happened. The quiet, moving ceremony we witnessed in church today seemed to have nothing at all to do with my celebrated fiasco."

  "I was worried for you," she said quietly.

  "Thank you." Alexander hesitated for a moment, glancing at her.

  "But it was having you with me that made all the difference, Sophie. I wonder if you can understand that, already, the time with Delphine seems unreal to me, a kind of “brief gaudy hour", when a meteor hurtled into my life for a while, then _out of it again. While you, Sophie, have always been there glowing steadily; the lode-star every man needs in his life."

  Sophie took so much time to digest this that she failed to notice where they were until he halted the car. She peered up at him, eyebrows raised.

  "Willow Reach, Alexander? Don't tell me, let me guess. We're having a barbecue in the garden!"

  "God, no!" He laughed and left the car to open the big double gates before driving through.

  To Sophie's surprise the lights were on in the house.

  "Is someone here?"

  "No." He dangled a bunch of keys in front of her nose.

  "Willow Reach is now mine, all mine. And the lights are on time switches, of course. You, Miss Gordon, are my very first visitor, but your picnic supper doesn't come cheap you'll have to work for it."

  "Oh, will I?" Sophie followed Alexander as he unlocked the door and flung it wide before swinging her up in his arms and carrying her though into a large, square hall.

  "What are you doing?" she said, her face scarlet as he set her on her feet.

  He shrugged.

  "It just seemed appropriate all the talk of weddings, I suppose."

  "Then stop talking about them and show me round your house instead,” She said tartly.

  Alexander was only too pleased to do so, his manner very proprietorial as he led her upstairs, through empty, beautifully proportioned rooms, fewer in number than Sophie had expected from the size of the house.

  _"When I originally designed it I made light and space my priorities, rather than room-count." Alexander gestured towards the windows.

  "Great sheets of glass would have been entirely wrong for the garden they looked out on, so I used small panes to create a more cottage-like atmosphere."

  "It's perfect," said Sophie simply, and ran a hand down the mahogany rail which curved over wrought- iron banisters of such intricate workmanship that they could have been made of fine black lace. She followed Alexander downstairs, through an elegantly fitted kitchen, a sizeable dining-room, a graceful drawing-room with beamed ceiling and shelved alcoves flanking a white marble fireplace. Finally they arrived at the door of a room Alexander announced would be his study.

  Sophie's eyes widened as he ushered her inside. Unlike the rest of the rooms, it was anything but empty. Piles of carpet samples were strewn about next to swatches of curtain materials, rolled rugs piled in one corner, canvases stacked in another, and brochures everywhere, for everything from light- fittings to bathrooms and colour-cards for paint. A kilim rug made an oasis in the centre of the floor, and on it stood the only item of furniture

  Sophie had seen so far in the entire house, a rattan chaise-longue with brown velvet cushions. She grinned at Alexander, enlightened.

  "I see, I see. This is where we picnic. But before I'm fed I suppose my opinion is required on this lot!"

  "Bullseye!" Alexander shrugged off his jacket, then left Sophie alone to browse among all the fabrics, and wonder about the quantity involved for the floors _and windows of this tranquil, graceful house.

  Alexander returned quickly with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

  "I've had this chilling to the exact degree of perfection in anticipation of this very moment. Miss Gordon."

  Sophie kicked off her shoes and curled up on the chaise-longue with several swatches of curtain material around her, and held out her hand for the glass

  Alexander was offering.

  "Pink champagne, no less," she said appreciatively.

  "To Willow Reach, Alexander; may you be very happy here."

  "Amen to that." He drank deeply.

  "Do you like the house?" he added casually.

  "Who wouldn't? If a client ever needs proof of your flair, this house is a wonderful showpiece. Even inside, it just doesn't seem like a modern house.

  There's a timeless feel to it, as though it's always been here."

  "Probably because^ so much of the building material was salvaged, as I said when I showed you the garden, from the original house."

  Alexander let himself down to sit cross-legged on the rug, then leaned over and refilled her glass.

  "Willow Reach was built first time round to house the mistress of one of

  Charles the Second's courtiers. The gentleman's wife was rich and ugly and very jealous, so he built this house for his beautiful young mistress miles from anywhere, as it was then, with high walls instead of the present hedges, but the same fountain in the grotto in the garden. A secret place where he could be alone with his love, hidden from the world."

  Alexander's expressive voice dropped at the last words, as he looked into

  Sophie's eyes.

  "What are you thinking?"

  "I was wondering what the girl did with herself while her lover was away at court. Al
l those minutes and hours and days to be filled without him. How on earth did she pass the time?"

  "Looking after her children, I imagine," said Alexander prosaically.

  "They produced quite a few, though oddly enough the gentleman was never blessed with a legal heir."

  "Poor rich, ugly wife," said Sophie with compassion.

  "Anyway, Mr. Paget, sir, let's get on with the matter in hand." She shook off the shadow from the past and knelt with Alexander on the floor, quickly engrossed in the colours and textures spread out all around them. His professional eye and her own natural flair for colour worked well together, and the time passed swiftly as they isolated a growing pile of possible choices. Two hours passed before a sudden rumble in Sophie's stomach reminded her it was a long time since the elegant wedding-breakfast at the

  Chantry.

  "I'm hungry," she said.

  "Where's this picnic you promised me, slave driver

  Alexander sprang to his feet in remorse.

  "Lord, I'm sorry, Sophie.

  Just stay where- you are and I'll bring everything in. "

  "Can't I help?"

  "No. You've done enough today. Shan't be long."

  Alone, Sophie tidied her hair and stretched out luxuriously on the chaise, thinking about the girl who had lived and loved in the original Willow Reach.

  What was it like to be someone's mistress? she wondered. Surely a mistress never ironed shirts or cooked _nourishing meals, or even knew how to thread a needle, let alone sew on all those endless name tapes? She rather fancied being Alexander's mistress. Her eyes harrowed as she pictured herself inexpensive silk underwear, with hand-made lace, of course, and a satin peignoir falling open as she lolled on a chaise- longue like this, waiting for him 10 spend long nights of illicit passion with her, with never a hint of domestic chores to intrude on their bliss. Her eyes glittered darkly as she conjured up visions of weekends in Paris and Rome, holidays in Antigua and Bali . . .

  "That's a very strange look in your eyes, Sophie!"

  Sophie came to with a jolt as Alexander came back with a picnic hamper. She sat up hurriedly, smoothing her brief skirt into place, her cheeks hot.

  "Daydreaming," she said, and helped him set out their supper on the starched white cloth included in the hamper. Sophie fell to with a will on the delicious food provided by Alexander's caterers, with more appetite now for the slices of pink ham and succulent turkey breast, the smoked salmon and game pie, than she had felt for the wedding-breakfast earlier.

  "Only cheese to follow, I'm afraid," said Alexander.

  "I told them to keep it simple, since it had to hang about for a bit."

  "It's wonderful," said Sophie indistinctly.

  "I'm starving. Probably because I wasn't in the least hungry lunch time."

  "I noticed." Alexander put another slice of ham on her plate.

  They made large inroads on the food, and afterwards finished off the champagne.

  "Feel better now?"

  asked Alexander lazily. He leaned back against the foot of the chaise-longue, his legs stretched out in front of him. Sophie lay on the velvet cushions, a little drowsy after the good food.

  "I certainly do." She sighed. This is such a lovely house, Alexander.

  You're a genius. "

  "I know," he said modestly.

  "My picnic wasn't a bad idea, was it?"

  "Inspired." Reluctantly Sophie swung her legs to the ground and looked around for her shoes.

  "Only now I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to drive me to Arlesford. I don't want to worry Grail by staying out late on my first night as her lodger."

  Alexander looked up into her eyes.

  "May I have one kiss first? If you think back, I'm sure we decided a kiss now and then was acceptable."

  You decided. "

  He smiled, and drew her down gently into his arms and Sophie lay against him, her mouth parting beneath his so willingly that he crushed her to him with. a groan, kissing her with a hunger she realised had been kept on a short rein all evening. Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the storm was over. His head lifted a little and his embrace relaxed as gleaming green eyes gazed down into heavy, slumbering dark ones.

  "Does that count as one kiss?" he muttered against her mouth.

  "I wasn't counting," she whispered.

  He drew in a long, shaky breath, then leapt to his feet, pulling her with him.

  "Home!" he said firmly.

  CHAPTER NINE

  On a cold November evening a few weeks later, Sophie thrust her paintbrush in a jar of white spirit and eased her aching back as she opened the door to the stairs.

  "Coffee, Alexander?" she called.

  "Five minutes," he yelled back.

  "Just giving the bedroom ceiling another coat."

  Ilex Cottage was very nearly ready for occupation. Sophie filled her new kettle in her minuscule kitchen, and took a deep breath of satisfaction, coughing a little as the paint fumes hit her chest.

  Cecily Wainwright had been keen to employ a professional decorator, but

  Sophie wouldn't hear of it, insisting the little house would be so much more her own if she did the painting herself. And the moment her grandmother learned who was giving a helping hand she said no more.

  Alexander eased himself gingerly through the door at the bottom of the stairs, grinning when he saw Sophie sitting cross-legged in the middle of her uncarpeted floor with two mugs of coffee beside her.

  "I'm trying not to brush against any of the paint- work," she said, offering him a packet of biscuits.

  Alexander let himself down beside her, flicking a finger at her nose.

  "Paint-splash, Sophie."

  _She eyed him critically.

  "You should see yourself!"

  Neither of them were acmes of elegance. Sophie was arrayed in dungarees and sweatshirt, with a peaked denim cap covering her hair, and Alexander wore a black running vest and tracksuit trousers, both garments liberally streaked with white paint.

  "What a way to spend Saturday night!" commented Alexander as he munched hungrily.

  "I need tomorrow for drying out. Then I can move in on Monday."

  Sophie looked about her in triumph.

  "All done! Isn't it perfect?"

  "You're like a little girl with a doll's house."

  "I never had one, so probably that's why I'm so thrilled with this."

  She drank her coffee, her eyes moving in all directions as she arranged furniture in her mind, finally focusing on Alexander, who was watching her with indulgence. She smiled sheepishly.

  "Oh, I know it's a bit different from Willow Reach the entire cottage would probably fit into your drawing-room. But to me this place is everything I've ever wanted."

  Alexander got to his feet and stretched, yawning as he looked at his watch.

  "Come on, it's almost midnight. High time you were back at Greenacre."

  Sophie scrambled up, collecting the mugs. She looked over her shoulder at him as he followed her into the kitchen.

  "I'm very grateful to you, Alexander. You've been so kind to me lately."

  He removed her paint-stained cap and slid his arms round her from behind, resting his chin on the top of her tousled head.

  "Not only kind. Or haven't you noticed? I have also been quite remarkably virtuous and self- restrained, too."

  Sophie slid out of his hold, her eyes dancing as she turned to face him.

  "I though maybe the paint was having an effect on your libido!"

  He yanked her to him and kissed her, then shook her ungently.

  "Don't push your luck, Miss Gordon. My libido happens to be alive and well, since you mention it. I'm merely biding my time."

  She sobered.

  "Until when? And for what, exactly?"

  Alexander's lashes veiled his expression.

  "You'll know when the time comes."

  "Don't be infuriating--tell me!"

  "No chance."

  Sophie felt it best.
to avoid anticipating his intentions a second time.

  She had been caught like that before, and only by the grace of God managed to avoid refusing a proposal of marriage Alexander had never intended making.