by Lucy Gordon
‘Except that you’re going into business in a big way. I’ll be taking a flying trip to New York to help start it up. I want to be involved in everything. It’s going to be so thrilling.’
‘Yes,’ he said, trying to sound cheerful. ‘Thrilling.’
‘Hey,’ she teased, ‘don’t tell me I did all this for nothing.’
That made him smile. ‘Meryl, I’ll be grateful all my life for what you’ve done for me-’
‘Skip that,’ she said hastily. ‘You said it all on the first day. What’s your point?’
‘This. Don’t kid a kidder. I’m just your cover. First of all you did it to tell Larry where he got off, and recently-well, let’s just say you had another agenda.’
‘Is it that obvious?’
‘Only to me. But then, I’m in love, too.’
‘Shh!’ She placed her finger over her lips in the manner of a conspirator.
‘Look at her,’ Sarah said, glancing over her shoulder as she waltzed with Jarvis. ‘Sharing a secret joke with him at your wedding. Don’t you realise it’s you they’re laughing at?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Jarvis replied gravely. ‘I’m beginning to think-I might have been wrong about Meryl-maybe-’
‘That’s what she wants you to think.’
‘Hush, my dear. Don’t say anything bad about her. I don’t like to hear it.’
She fell silent, and the party swirled on to its close.
CHAPTER NINE
T HE last guest had gone to bed, the last sounds of revelry had faded. Meryl sat in her room listening to the castle shutting down around her.
How quiet it was. The loudest sound was the beating of her own heart; a bride waiting for her groom. Except that it wasn’t like that.
It was a business arrangement. Jarvis would resist the temptation to come to her, no matter how he longed to yield. Today he’d briefly weakened because of the spell cast by the wedding, but that was fading, as she should have known it would. Instead, a few glances, an ardent look in his eyes, and she’d deluded herself.
As she undressed and put out the light the euphoria of the occasion melted away like popping champagne bubbles, and the great room seemed to mock her.
She lay for an hour, listening, her heart beating at every tiny noise. From below came the soft roar of the sea swirling at the base of the castle. Nearby there were a dozen creaks and whines in the old building. She knew them all. But the one she longed to hear was the sound of a door opening at the far end of the passage that connected their rooms, the sound that would tell her there was more to this moment than a contract fulfilled.
He would come to her, because he wanted her. She knew that with every fibre of the body that ached for him. He would stay away because he distrusted her, because he’d spent his life fending off anyone who might get too close to him, knowing that that way lay desertion and pain. And she was the greatest threat of all.
He would come to her room because he couldn’t stay away.
He would stay away because he was too stubborn to concede defeat.
‘But so am I,’ she murmured into the darkness. ‘And I don’t mind sacrificing the first pawn, as long as I can mate the king.’
Moving decisively now, she slipped out of bed, pulled a lacy robe on over her nakedness and noiselessly opened the door into the passage. Just a brief hesitation, while her nerve almost failed her, then her head went up and she took the first step into the darkness.
She inched her way slowly along the narrow corridor, then paused again. Suppose he wasn’t in his room at all? Suppose he was there but snubbed her? He’d resisted temptation. It was she who’d weakened.
As she stood there, torn with indecision, a noise from the far end made her heart beat with frantic, disbelieving hope. A quiet click, then the sound of the door easing open, then silence.
She sensed rather than heard someone moving closer and stopping a few inches away. The heat of his body reached her, his warm breath, and finally the faint sensation of his fingertips on her face, her lips. An uncontrollable tremor went through her and her heart beat madly as his touch trailed down her neck to the swell of her breasts. Then it vanished altogether and she gasped in protest. The sudden deprivation was unbearable.
She waited for him to caress her again, and in the silent darkness she could experience his struggle. He neither moved nor spoke, but his torment reached her in waves. Now it was her turn to reach out until her fingers brushed his face.
It was as though a spark had set off a charge of electricity. Hands came from nowhere to seize her shoulders and pull her against him with all the urgency he’d been trying to deny. Beneath a light robe he was as naked as she, and now she could feel the power of his desire, demanding, unstoppable.
He paused, waiting for her signal. A mortal, fallen into the hands of fairies, might have waited like that, wondering what mysterious step he was asked to take. Meryl found his hand, grasped it, began to retreat to her own room, drawing him after her, until she could close her door behind them.
There was no moon and the mullioned windows gave very little light, but that was good. Tonight darkness would be her friend, blotting out everything except those selves that they would give to each other. The selves of the daytime, wary, fumbling, hiding suspicion beneath bright words, had withdrawn a little way, so that these two might reach out to each other in a shared secret.
Instinct told her that he wanted to speak, but she brushed her fingers across his lips. Words must came later, or perhaps not at all. When her fingertips had left his lips her mouth followed, touching him softly at first, then more determinedly as her message became unmistakable and he answered with one of his own.
This wasn’t like the kiss he’d given her for the cameras, when his surprise had been clear to her, or like the one earlier today, in the church, when she’d sensed the eagerness and warmth that were overtaking him, despite his resolution not to yield. He’d yielded now and was giving her the kiss he’d always wanted to give, and the one she’d always wanted to receive.
She felt him toss away her robe and his own. No barriers between them at last, nothing to stop her exploring his masculinity and revelling in every discovery.
They lay together on the bed, body to body. Without sight she had to rely on her other senses, and this man reached her through them all. The power and force of him was against her hands, her breasts, her thighs. The tangy scent of him was in her nostrils and her mouth wherever she kissed him. With every step her desire flowered, demanded more. Jarvis had always feared that she’d come to conquer, and he was right. But it wasn’t his lands or title she claimed. Only the man himself would do. She would never be satisfied with less.
He too was exploring, lingering on the curves and valleys that had tempted him, free now to indulge his curiosity. The soft roundness of her breasts against his palms made a sigh break from him. She heard it and arched against him, wanting more of him. He wouldn’t give her the words of love, she knew that, but there were signs that she could read.
And the signs were there in the ardour and tenderness with which he claimed her, parting her legs gently and moving slowly, giving her time to think, even to reject him. But she was way past that now. She reached for him, pulled him over her, claiming him in the moment that he claimed her. Giving and taking together. Possession, yielding, surrender, triumph.
And then astonishment. Lying beside him, matching her breathing to his, wondering how anything could be so wonderful as this feeling. And sensing, with awe and wonder, that he felt the same.
When she awoke in the half-light and found herself alone she was sad but not dismayed. She’d more than half expected this and besides, dismay was for faint hearts. No woman could be faint-hearted after such a night of loving. All the passion he couldn’t put into words had been there in his arms, his lips, his caresses that had been tender and purposeful, his loins that had claimed her like a man possessed.
And that was true. He had been possessed by another sel
f, a self who could love and give openly and without fear. And one day, with her help, that other self would claim him completely, and she would awake to find him still in her bed, sleeping trustingly beside her, his arms about her, his face buried in her flesh as though he’d finally found his refuge.
She promised herself that, as she lay there in the quiet dawn.
As the last wedding guest departed Benedict carefully packed up his things, ready to leave. But he was detained a little longer by Meryl, who had something to show him.
She took him to Little Grands and introduced him to Sadie. Benedict was as thrilled with the knits as she’d known he would be, and with her help he went the rounds of the farms where he found women knitting to a standard that had him chortling with delight. There were discussions, chaired by Meryl. Contracts were arranged. Benedict put his head together with Sadie, and when she’d shown him some more of her designs and he’d filtered her ideas through his own needs, they discovered they had evolved a style.
It took three days to set up. Jarvis observed mildly that she seemed to be very busy and Meryl debated the wisdom of telling him details about the knitting. But she couldn’t forget how dismissive he’d been when she first mentioned the idea. It would be better to wait until she could show some real results. So she said merely that she’d spent the time showing Benedict the district, and Jarvis forbore to ask questions.
On the day of Benedict’s departure Ferdy called to ferry them across the water. Jarvis went down to the boat with them, cheerfully carrying bales of wedding dress material. The original luxurious dress that Meryl had rejected was carried by Benedict, who was a mass of nerves as it was transferred to the boat.
‘It seems a shame to waste it after all the work you put in,’ Jarvis observed.
‘Waste it?’ Benedict was scandalised. ‘It’s my masterpiece. It’ll crown my first show in the new premises.’
‘Well, get to work or there won’t be any new show,’ Meryl commanded.
‘There’s a lot of formalities-’
‘I know, I know. I’ve told you I’ll make a flying visit as soon as you’ve found somewhere, and we’ll sign the lease, hire the staff and I’ll stick my nose in until I drive you crazy.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ Benedict said mournfully. ‘Darling, it will be a flying visit, won’t it? Flying, as in-you’ll only stay five minutes?’
‘I’ll send you flying into the water in a moment,’ Meryl observed.
‘Does this take much longer, or shall we just wait for the tide to go out?’ Ferdy asked of nobody in particular.
‘Coming,’ Meryl sang out. Benedict and Ferdy helped her into the boat. She waved at Jarvis, calling, ‘I’ll back tonight,’ as the boat moved off.
He waved back, uncertain whether to be dismayed that she was going to New York, pleased that Benedict didn’t want her to stay long, or furious because he’d called her darling.
Jarvis had once called Meryl a hothouse flower, and in the world she’d left the seasons were largely artificial. A treadmill took her from Manhattan to Los Angeles in search of parties, and to Paris or Milan in search of fashion, for she didn’t live in Benedict’s creative pocket. But the nearest she came to following nature was when she headed to the Caribbean in winter.
Now she was living in a place where only nature’s calendar counted. April was the month for sowing cereals, the time when a farmer survived or didn’t by the condition of his soil and often by his ability to beg or borrow the money for fertiliser. To Jarvis’s tenants, hanging on grimly after a succession of misfortunes, his marriage had come just in time to enrich the soil for that year’s sowing.
‘If we’d married a few weeks later it might have been too late for them,’ she put to him one day. They’d been riding the countryside on horses hired from Sarah’s stable, and had stopped off to let the beasts drink from a stream.
‘Not might have been, would have been,’ he replied quietly.
‘But you didn’t take enough from me, did you? That man we were with this morning-the one who was showing me the machine for planting potatoes-’
That made Jarvis grin. Farmer Bannion was a machine enthusiast, and there’d been no escape until he’d shown Meryl the special planter that he hitched to his tractor for potatoes, delivering a commentary without pausing for breath.
‘It – makes – the – furrows – so – that – the – rotating – wheel – drops – the – seed -potatoes – in – then – it – turns – the – soil – over – them – otherwise – the – potatoes – go – green – in – the – light. Of course – sometimes – you – want – them – to – have – a – bit – of – light – so – that – they – sprout – early – but – then – you’ve – got – to – be – careful-’
Meryl, trying not to let her eyes glaze, had come away with only one thought.
‘His machine’s on its last legs,’ she told Jarvis now. ‘He needs a new one. You could make him an interest-free loan-’
‘It would be too late now.’
‘Just what I’m saying. You should have married me earlier and insisted on a bigger dowry.’ She nudged him in the ribs. ‘See what you get for being stubborn.’
‘Well, I’m not used to marrying for money,’ he said, nettled. ‘I don’t know how it’s supposed to be done.’
‘You fraud. You swore to Larry that you were a hardened mercenary. The fact is, you’re just a beginner.’
‘I’m not planning to make a career of it.’
She went to the stream where the horses were drinking and splashed some water over her face. He watched her, elegant in her riding habit, her glorious hair out of sight for once. Only last night that hair had streamed over her shoulders and breasts while he kissed her, unseen and unseeing.
Not by so much as a word or a look had she ever hinted at their secret life. By day they faced each other, smiling, fencing, sleekly armoured, each waiting for the other to whisper, I was the one you held in your arms last night.
But so far neither had yielded an inch.
With water in her eyes she fumbled for her handkerchief but couldn’t find it. Grinning, he offered her his own clean one.
‘Thanks.’ She sat down on a rock. ‘We must rethink the whole thing,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘Must we?’ he asked in an expressionless voice.
‘Yes. I’ll put a lump sum on deposit so that you can make them interest-free loans, and-’ She looked up. He was staring out over the water and the sight gave her a little spurt of temper. ‘All right, I put it the wrong way,’ she said irritably. ‘Rephrase it any way you like. I’m tired of dancing on pins just because you’ve got the pride of the devil.’
He was instantly contrite, coming to sit on the rock beside her. ‘I meet your generosity very shabbily, don’t I?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ She was too disappointed to be diplomatic.
To her surprise he slipped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her. ‘I’m sorry for being such a bear. I don’t really know how to accept kindness.’
Never having received very much, she thought with a sudden sweep of tenderness.
But if he was tongue-tied, so was she. She longed to tell him of the change that was coming over her in this place. Now she could look back and see what a useless life she’d led, veering this way and that with every trashy wind that blew because she’d had no purpose and no one who needed her.
Here there were people who needed her and had no false pride about accepting her help. Accepting her. She was finding a peace she’d never known before, and she longed for the moment when she could tell Jarvis. But that moment wasn’t here or now.
‘We’ll forget it, if it offends you,’ she said.
‘No way,’ he said, as she’d known he would. ‘I can’t deprive them of what they need simply because-well, anyway. I’ll leave you to fix it up.’
He’d yielded, but only halfway. Still, she could hope for better next time.
They returned to their
horses. Jarvis was in turmoil. Gratitude for her understanding warred with alarm at the way she’d slid past him again. Deeper in her debt than ever. Bought and paid for. Their brief understanding, which had soothed the wound, now seemed another danger. Bought and paid for twice over.
‘When are you going away?’ he asked suddenly.
‘When-what?’
‘When are you going? This flying visit you’re planning to New York to help Steen set things up. I thought you’d have gone by now.’
‘I don’t have to go yet. It’s not-’
‘Better if you do. I have a farmers’ conference to attend. I’ll be away several days.’
‘I could come with you.’
‘You really wouldn’t like it. Besides, Steen must surely need your help.’
Plainly he wanted to be away from her.
‘I’ll go tomorrow,’ she said.
Benedict met her plane and drove her to her apartment overlooking Central Park. Her housekeeper had got everything in perfect order and the place was warm and welcoming.
‘I’ve found the perfect site,’ Benedict burbled. ‘It’s on Fifth Avenue-’
‘Good,’ Meryl said, trying to sound interested. ‘Is there any news of Amanda?’
‘The wretched creature is playing hard to find. She won’t answer my calls and all I want to do is ask her to reconsider. We could still make a go of it, but she’s switched her mobile off.’
As always when he talked of his wife his genuine sadness touched Meryl’s heart. She invited him in for a drink, and took the first chance to call Jarvis and say she’d arrived safely. But Jarvis had already left for his farmers’ conference, so Meryl left a message and shrugged as she hung up.
Gradually she fell back into her old life, except that now she was in control of her own vast fortune. Somehow it wasn’t as satisfying as she’d thought it would be. She transferred the money she’d promised to Larne for the interest-free loan, but she couldn’t help thinking of the land where the light faded slowly, and the fields were dotted with woolly sheep, and the way she could find serenity just by being there. She should be in Larne this minute, seeing the smiles as hope returned, hope that she’d brought them.
