A Will to Love

by Rosina Lesley

  Chapter Eight

  Without giving herself time to think any further, Annie did the best she could with her appearance and went back downstairs. She found Murray in the main bar talking to the landlord, with whom he appeared to be on friendly terms.

  ‘What will you have to drink?’ He turned towards her as she approached.

  ‘White wine, please.’

  ‘White wine, Bill, please. Clare said she would lay a table for us in the other bar. Here’s the menu.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Annie perched on a tall stool and surveyed the folder in front of her.

  ‘I recommend the game pie – and Clare’s home made soups are superb.’ He was being deliberately non confrontational and Annie nodded in relief.

  ‘Fine. That’s what I’ll have.’

  Murray placed their order and gestured Annie away from the bar to a table by the fire, where the high back of an oak settle hid them from the gaze of the other customers who had drifted in.

  ‘Have you called Tracy to say you won’t be back for dinner?’ Annie took a sip of her wine and looked at him over the rim of the glass.

  ‘Yes. She’s quite happy. As I thought, she hadn’t planned anything spectacular. Marion’s still asleep, so she says she’ll make herself an omelette.’

  The silence between them was accentuated by the hum of conversation in the rest of the bar and the crackling of the big logs in the hearth. Annie watched Murray’s bent head speculatively and decided to take a chance.

  ‘Murray, tell me about your father. You said I’d almost ruined your mother. What had it to do with him?’

  ‘I told you, I exaggerated.’

  ‘You said, if I remember rightly, that you acted “somewhat precipitately”, but that there were reasons. Not all the reasons were to do with your mother, were they?’

  Murray frowned his eyes still fixed on the flames.

  ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘Because it has some sort of bearing on the situation, obviously.’

  He shrugged and leaned back in to the corner of the settle.

  ‘I suppose there’s no reason for you not to know, now.’ He searched her face with stormy grey eyes. ‘When my mother left your father she went to another man – I see you’d already deduced that. After him there were several others, by which time, I think your father was getting tired of supporting her and a succession of – well, toy boys, I guess. At which point, she decided to come back to my father.’

  ‘She did what?’ Annie’s eyes were wide with horror and disgust.

  ‘Exactly.’ Murray nodded. ‘The unfortunate thing was that my father had never got over her. He didn’t take her back completely, but it wasn’t long before they were having an affair and trying to keep it from me.’

  ‘Where were you?’

  ‘Oh, I was up at Fallowfield. My father was down in Hertfordshire. I thoroughly disapproved, as you can imagine, but there was very little I could do about it. Until ...’

  ‘Yes?’ prompted Annie, as he fell silent, staring once more in to the fire.

  ‘Until the crash.’ He roused himself and turned his eyes back to her. ‘The crash that left both my parents disabled.’

  ‘Both?’ whispered Annie. ‘Your father, too?’

  ‘My father too.’ Murray nodded. ‘Oh, not as badly as Marion, he can walk with a stick, but he went through the windscreen. He wasn’t a pretty sight.’

  ‘But how did it happen?’

  ‘My father was getting a little tired of Marion and her way of life and I think he was beginning to realise he’d been made a fool of for the second time. He was also feeling very guilty about Henry. As far as I can understand, he finally told Marion all this in the middle of one of their rows. She’d been drinking and stormed out, taking his car. He followed and tried to stop her, managing to get in to the passenger seat as she drove off. I still don’t know whether she crashed the car deliberately or not.’

  ‘What a dreadful story.’ Annie reached over and laid a small white hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry, Murray. I must have seemed very insensitive at times.’

  ‘You weren’t to know.’ His eyes were warmer as he covered her hand with his own. ‘But, you see, if what Marion had said was true – you would have known. My instincts about you said one thing, what Marion told me was quite another.’

  ‘I wish you’d followed your instincts sooner,’ whispered Annie, her face growing hot beneath his gaze.

  ‘No more than I do.’ Their eyes held for a long moment, and Annie felt, rather than saw his gradual movement towards her.

  ‘Murray, your table’s ready.’

  They drew apart quickly, Annie’s face flaming even hotter as Murray stood up to acknowledge the shout from the bar. He waited for her to precede him through to the other room, where Clare had laid the corner table by the fire with a white cloth and a vase containing a few bronze chrysanthemums.

  The soup, as Murray had predicted, was delicious. Neither of them spoke very much, other than to comment on the food. The game pie was deep and rich, the vegetables fresh and crisp. Annie discovered her appetite had returned with a vengeance to the extent she managed to tackle a third course. Clare brought them coffee and by tacit agreement, they moved to the window seat, further from the fire.

  ‘We still haven’t really discussed Tallon House.’ Annie tried to break the tension that had built up between them, stirring her coffee.

  ‘Is there anything more to discuss?’

  ‘Does your father still own Fallowfield?’

  ‘No, he made it over to me. He’s not contributing to Marion’s upkeep, don’t worry.’

  ‘What made you decide to take her in?’

  ‘She was my mother. Where else could she go?’

  ‘She could have returned to Tallon House if she regarded it as her home.’

  ‘Henry wouldn’t have her. I didn’t blame him.’

  ‘But you’ve stood up for her and believed her ever since you learnt about me?’

  ‘What else could I do? I told you – she appeared to have proof.’ He shifted in his seat, stretching an arm along the back to rest lightly on her shoulder. ‘But we’ve been through that. Can’t we change the subject?’

  ‘Yes, if you want to.’ Annie smiled shyly, not quite sure how to cope with this new, gentle Murray.

  ‘Let’s talk about you. I know nothing about you – what your childhood was like, how you came to buy the shop – anything.’

  ‘It’s not very interesting,’ protested Annie.

  ‘It is to me.’ His voice was low and sent a shiver through Annie’s solar plexus which curled out to all her nerve endings, leaving her breathless.

  ‘Well,’ she hurried on, ‘I don’t remember much until we were living in Basingstoke Road. We had a flat in a large Victorian terraced house. There was a shop on the corner, about a hundred yards away, and the common was a five minute walk. It wasn’t a bad place to grow up. Mum worked as a shorthand typist and then a secretary, so I had a succession of child minders until I was old enough to look after myself. Then when I went away to college she got a new job as personal assistant to Frank Drew and finally married him.’

  ‘So how did you end up in Suffolk?’

  ‘Oh, yes, well actually, when I went away to college, Mum went back to Suffolk. I didn’t know, but she owned a little house there, which she had rented out since she moved to London. That was when she got her job with Frank. When I came back, she gave the cottage to me. A college friend came and shared it with me until she married and I worked for a greetings card company for a while and managed to sell a few paintings – some to my father, although I didn’t know that – then I raised a mortgage on the cottage and leased the shop when they first developed Coach House Yard. And that’s it.’

  ‘No relationships? No lovers? Fiancé?’ He had moved imperceptibly closer.

  ‘Not really. I go out with people, but it all seems to be rather an effort. Men always seem to want more than I’m willing to give.’ />
  ‘That’s the same the world over.’ He laughed.

  ‘No – I didn’t mean that.’ Annie coloured again. ‘I meant they want more of my time and commitment. My time and commitment are for myself and my business.’

  ‘You don’t think that if you met the right man you would change your mind?’

  Annie’s heart was beating so fast she was sure he would be able see it – or at least hear it. ‘I don’t know,’ she managed through a dry mouth. ‘I obviously haven’t met one yet.’

  ‘And how do you know that? You never let anyone get close enough to find out.’

  This time, Annie couldn’t answer. She was mesmerised by the hypnotic voice and the dark face so close to her own. Slowly she felt herself leaning towards him as if pulled by an invisible thread until at last, their lips met.

  The explosive quality of their previous encounters was missing, replaced by a gentle exploration so tender that Annie felt tears start behind her closed eyelids. Murray’s hand came up to the back of her neck beneath the heavy plait and she sighed into his mouth.

  When they finally drew apart, Annie found it hard to meet his eyes.

  ‘Annie? Look at me. Now, tell me. That’s the truth, isn’t it?’ He held her face between both hands, forcing her to look up.

  ‘The truth?’

  ‘Remember? All our talk of lies and deception? That time in the kitchen.’

  ‘I remember.’ Her voice was a thread of sound.

  He smiled and released her. ‘I’d better go. This will take some getting used to.’

  ‘What will?’

  ‘This new … harmony between us. If I stay any longer ... well!’ He got to his feet. ‘Come on. I’ll see you safely upstairs then I’ll settle the bill with Clare.’

  ‘No – I invited you to dinner.’ Annie stood up, surprised that she could.

  ‘And I’m paying for it. No arguments.’ He held the door open for her. ‘And now, up you go.’ He bent his head and brushed her cheek with his lips. ‘I’ll call you in the morning.’

  Annie gained her room with no clear idea of how she had got there. She felt as though she had gone down very fast in a lift and left her stomach behind, not to mention her head. If this was, as Murray claimed, the truth, then it was mind-blowing. Now the lies and misunderstandings had been swept away, what was left was reality, the reality of an attraction between two people so strong that it had made itself felt even through those very lies and misunderstandings. She knew, too, with a delicious shudder of exhilaration, why he had decided to leave before the wonder of their new-found relationship led them too far too fast.

  She wandered to the widow and drew back the curtains. There was no moon, and a white mist swirled a few yards beyond the inn. Suddenly, there was a gentle tap on her door.

  ‘Murray?’ She stared up at him her heart once more going in to overdrive.

  He gave a rueful smile. ‘I realised when I got outside that I couldn’t drive. I was over the limit!’

  A bubble of laughter escaped her at this prosaic statement. ‘So what are you going to do?’

  ‘Stay here.’

  Annie gasped, her stomach performing hitherto unknown gyrations.

  ‘Clare found me a room.’ He laid a soothing hand on her cheek. ‘Although ...’

  She stood aside to let him in.. She hadn’t turned on a light inside the room, and now he moved quietly into the rectangle of light that fell through the doorway. He paused with his hand on the handle, looking at her as she stood, by the bed, silhouetted against the windows.

  ‘It was a good evening, wasn’t it?’ he said softly. ‘And you really are very beautiful.’

  ‘Beautiful?’ she repeated, her heart starting to thump wildly.

  ‘Yes.’ The tension was back, stretched between them like a string.

  ‘Except that you don’t think of yourself like that, do you?’

  ‘No,’ Annie whispered, her mouth dry with anticipation. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You are to me.’ He said it flatly, so that she believed him.

  ‘Murray, I …’ she began, but suddenly he was in front of her. Somehow, he’d closed the door, and they were in darkness. She clenched her hands tightly into fists, feeling perspiration start under her hairline. He was so close she could smell his cologne and feel the warmth emanating from him.

  ‘Annie, you don’t understand.’ He whispered, and put out a hand to stroke her cheek. ‘I understand a lot about you, although not everything, but you don’t even try, do you?’

  She was mesmerised, could do nothing but stand there, looking up at him with wide eyes, knowing she should say and do all sorts of things, but unable to do anything. His hand moved to her hair, then back to trace the outline of her lips, and then he bent his head, blotting out the light from the window.

  It was like being given food after a prolonged period of starvation, this evening’s brief encounter having only whetted their appetites. How Murray’s arms came to be round her, and more importantly, how hers came to be round him, Annie didn’t know. His lips and tongue held her in thrall, and when, impatient for closer contact, he slid his hands inside her shirt, she didn’t even try to stop him. The sweater and shirt suddenly slipped to the floor without her knowing how they had come off and he bent his head to kiss her bare shoulder as the ache inside her began to build to frightening proportions. She shifted her weight, and in doing so, toppled backwards onto the bed.

  It broke the tension, and Murray, laughing softly, came down beside her.

  ‘If it had been anyone else, I would have said you did that on purpose,’ he murmured. ‘But only Annie could have done it by accident.’

  She froze into immobility in the darkness, suddenly conscious of her partially undressed state and her hands clutching tightly to his shoulders.

  ‘Hush,’ he soothed, bending his mouth to hers once more, and with one arm, sweeping her legs onto the bed. His hand slid slowly back up, caressing gently, her thigh, her hip, her waist, and, at last, her breast. Her breath caught in her throat, and she struggled, trying to wrench her mouth away from the insidious invasion of his. But, tonight, she could not break away. He loomed over her, he held the advantage, and refused to let it slip away from him. Slowly, she relaxed beneath him, her body responding in spite of herself. Mindlessly, she lay, open to him, quiescent while he explored and rediscovered, until, at last, she felt her hands creep between the buttons of his shirt and heard his sigh, then felt the tensing and relaxing of his muscles as she slid her hands over his back and down...

  Only when they lay, warm together, her body now arching rhythmically against his in mute invitation, did she become aware of what she was doing. As she did so, so he moved over her, pushing himself up and away so that he could see her face.

  ‘Oh, my darling,’ he whispered, seeing in her eyes her uncertainty and fear. Then, as he completed the movement in one swift stroke, he covered her mouth with his, pulling her in to him, as her body enfolded his. Almost immediately Annie’s body exploded with sensation, the universe composed solely of pulsing, rhythmic movement and her own wild, abandoned, convulsive reaction. From a great distance she heard his cry and felt the last great, shuddering explosion as her mind and body spiralled out of control into the darkness.

  An infinitesimal breeze lifted the curtains, cooling her body and bringing her back to sudden awareness. Little bits of the world returned to her slowly. The feel of Murray’s hair against her mouth, the feel of his damp skin against hers, cool air against both of them. She moved, very slightly. They still lay entwined; she could taste the faintly salty tang of his skin against her lips. She began to ease herself away.

  ‘Annie?’ He moved, raising his head to look at her.

  ‘Who did you think it was?’ she asked, in a feeble attempt at humour, to cover her embarrassment.

  He raised himself up on one elbow and she could just see him smiling in the darkness. ‘A naiad? A witch? Who knows!’

  She gazed up at him, wide eyed, una
ble to come to terms with what had happened.

  He let himself down beside her again, reaching down to draw the covers over them.

  ‘Annie?’ He spoke against her neck,

  ‘Yes?’ she whispered, not knowing what to say, what the etiquette was in these situations.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  She couldn’t repress a small giggle, and it made him move again, lift his head and look at her.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It seemed such an inadequate thing to say.’

  He smiled reluctantly. ‘Is that a compliment?’

  ‘I think so,’ she whispered, kissing his chin.

  ‘Then consider it returned.’ He moved away from her a little, smoothing her hair away from her face. ‘It shouldn’t have been like that, though.’

  ‘Wasn’t it good enough?’ she asked innocently.

  It was his turn to laugh as he pulled her close and kissed her hair. ‘I meant that it shouldn’t have happened as a result of ... well, almost an accident.’

  ‘You don’t have to plan these things, do you?’

  ‘I suppose not.’ He shifted to a more comfortable position. ‘I just hoped that our first time would be a little more relaxed, that we would have time to savour it as it developed.’

  ‘You knew there would be a first time, then?’ Annie’s stomach clenched with excitement.

  ‘I hoped. Right from the start, I suppose, if I’m honest, despite the circumstances.’

  Annie’s world unfurled like a flower unfolding to the sun. ‘Really?’ she whispered.

  ‘Don’t you believe me?’ His voice was husky as his body moved against hers and she went dizzy with desire and anticipation.

  ‘Yes – I believe you,’ she gasped into his mouth as his hand slid over her breast to find the soft centre, which peaked immediately between his fingers.

  ‘Didn’t you want me?’ he murmured, taking his lips from hers and trailing them down to replace his fingers, which, in their turn, moved down to her thighs.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ She sighed, reaching to pull him into her and marvelling at their readiness for each other so soon, her body welcoming his as his mouth returned to hers.