'We must be very late,' she said anxiously, searching for her sandals when they reached the Landrover.
Ben glanced at his watch as he drove off. 'Not that much. We left the house exactly one hour and ten minutes ago, so we haven't been overlong. Besides, they know exactly where we are.'
But not what we've been doing, Verity thought silently, still profoundly shaken by the experience, it seems longer than that.' Her eyes turned to meet Ben's, her stomach muscles contracting at the look he gave her before concentrating on the uneven track.
'There was no preconceived plan about what happened back there, Verity,' he said huskily, 'I didn't take you to the cottage with the intention of seducing you.'
'You didn't seduce me,' said Verity with justice. 'We were just overtaken by circumstances, wouldn't you say?'
Ben stopped the vehicle near the ruined stables and jumped out. He lifted Verity out, holding her against his chest, her feet clear of the ground.
'I never dreamed—' he began, his lips almost touching hers.
'Neither did I.' Verity's lids dropped before the gleam of possession in his eyes, her face hot. Ben kissed her at length, finally letting her go only when an exaggeratedly loud cough interrupted them as the figure of Sir Hugh strolled out of the shadows.
'If you could just put her down for a while Ben,' he said dryly. 'I could open the champagne and propose a toast. Your mother was beginning to wonder where you were.'
'Coming, Dad.' Ben put an arm round Verity's waist as the three of them returned to the house by way of the terrace to join Lady Dysart in the drawing-room. She took off her reading-glasses and put down her book, looking at Ben and Verity in amusement.
'I was just about to have a cup of tea and forget about the champagne. Come and sit beside me, Verity, and tell me how you've decided to furnish while Hugh wrestles with the champagne cork.'
Verity sat down on the brocade settee feeling completely at peace with the world, entirely free from the doubts and uncertainties of recent weeks, not even unduly embarrassed because her face was now bare of make-up and her hair frankly untidy. She accepted a glass of champagne with a radiant smile, still inwardly a little dazed from her first encounter with sexual fulfilment. Ben slid down beside her, a possessive arm along her shoulders as they drank a toast to their own future.
'How soon will the wedding be?' asked Lady Dysart with interest.
Ben glanced down at Verity.
'Six weeks? Or I could get a special licence—'
'I say, steady on son,' said his father, chuckling. 'We've been at you for years to take the plunge and now you want to rush off and tie the knot in five minutes.'
Ben grinned. 'Can you blame me?'
His mother leaned across and patted his hand.
'No darling, not in the least, but let Verity have her say. She's the bride and the choice is her privilege.'
The bride. The word brought Verity up short, starting up a whole new train of thought. Ben might expect her to give up her job, and there was her house and Jenny and Henrietta to consider.
Ben gave her a nudge.
'Wake up, beautiful dreamer—give us your view on the subject!'
'I can't decide just like that,' she said firmly. 'Definitely no special licence anyway, and even six weeks is pushing it a bit. The whole idea is new to me, after all—marriage was never part of my calculations up to now.'
'That's right; don't let him bully you,' approved Lady Dysart, then hesitated. 'I'm trying to be tactful—'
'Which is an effort,' teased her son.
'Really Ben! What I'm trying to say is that when you do decide on the date I hope Verity's mother would be kind enough to allow us to hold the reception here?' Lady Dysart looked questioningly at Verity, who put out a hand warmly and touched the other woman's in reassurance.
'I'm quite sure she would. We'll get it all settled as soon as possible. In fact, if you'd like us to be married in the church here I'm quite happy about that too.'
The gratitude on the older Dysarts' faces was reward enough, and Sir Hugh insisted on broaching another bottle while Ben kissed Verity swiftly, his quiet thanks intensifying the glow in her eyes.
It was very late when Sir Hugh and Lady Dysart finally went to bed with fond goodnights, and directions to Ben on where Verity was to sleep. There was silence in the big, graceful room after they left as Ben and Verity remained where they were on the long sofa.
'Are you happy Verity?' he asked at last.
She turned thoughtful eyes up to his. 'Very happy. Quite apart from the champagne and the moonlight and—and all the other events of this quite extraordinary evening, I have never been so happy in my whole life.'
Ben gripped her hand hard. 'You are a very unusual lady, Verity. Haven't you felt that something was missing this evening, despite the action-packed programme?'
Verity's heart stood still, then resumed beating heavily. This, then, was the moment her entire being had longed for. Through all the fierce intensity of their lovemaking neither of them had spoken, all their energies concentrated into the physical act. No word of love had been uttered—no sound at all until that final groan of triumph wrung from Ben as they reached the climax together. She sat, expectant and tense, willing him to say he loved her.
'Well?' he prompted.
'I'm not quite sure what you mean,' she said quietly, her eyes on her hands.
'In just three little words, bride-to-be, an engagement ring!'
Tossed to the heights then plunged to the depths in the space of one sentence, Verity's mental equilibrium suffered badly. She stood up, eluding the hands that tried to restrain her. She smiled brightly down into Ben's questioning face, rigidly controlling her disappointment.
'I never gave it a thought.' Which was the complete truth. 'I'm not really a jewellery person, Ben. Just the wedding ring will do.'
He got slowly to his feet, a look of disbelief on his dark features as he thrust a hand through his hair in a gesture which was becoming familiar to Verity.
'A pearl among women! Though your attitude has rather a dampening effect on my romantic intentions.' With a crooked smile he reached into the pocket of his white linen shirt and took out a twist of tissue-paper, holding it out to her. 'I should have given you this down at the cottage, but what happened there drove everything out of my head.'
Verity stood looking at the paper in his hand in silence until he moved nearer and unwrapped the ring it contained, holding it out on his palm. Numbly she saw that it was beautiful, a cluster of rubies and diamonds in an antique clawed setting, the gold band wide and heavy. It was obviously old and a little massive for some tastes, but when Ben slid it on her finger it looked very much at home on Verity's capable, long-fingered hand.
'My grandmother left it to me with some other pieces,' he said and kissed her hand, looking up at her from beneath questioning black brows. 'I thought you would like it better than a modern ring, but it's for you to choose.'
'It's lovely.' Verity smiled at him, something of her equanimity restored. 'Exactly to my taste. Thank you.'
'Does it fit?'
'A little loose, but not enough to alter it.' Verity admired the flash of the stones and waved her hand about to display them, hoping this was standard procedure for the newly-engaged, but very much aware of the frown on Ben's face as he watched her.
'What is it Verity?'
'Nothing.' She turned wide, serene eyes on him. 'What could be the matter on a night like this?'
'Some of your candlepower has dimmed.' He put an arm round her and drew her close, holding up her face with peremptory fingers to look into her eyes. 'Are you regretting what happened between us tonight?'
On this point, at least, Verity could be completely honest.
'How could I? You were no more responsible than I.
What happened—just happened. I had no idea, I admit, that one was overtaken by such an irresistible force.'
Ben's teeth gleamed white for an instant. 'One seldom is. We experi
enced something quite rare, take my word for it.'
Verity smiled ruefully. 'You disappoint me. I assumed it would always be like that.'
'If it's within my power to make it so, believe me it will!' He kissed her, holding her close against him, until there were unmistakable signs that if not damped down sharply their mutual bonfire was likely to get out of hand yet again. 'You see?' He shook her slightly, his voice unsteady. 'We have something very special, you and I, Verity. More than most. Don't keep me waiting too long.'
For hours after Ben left her at the door of the pretty room made ready for her, Verity lay in the comfortable bed, wide-eyed and sleepless, twisting the heavy ring on her finger, his words echoing in her mind. 'More than most' and 'something special' chased round and round in her head. He was right, of course, and she would just have to be satisfied. Tonight had proved their physical compatibility beyond all doubt, that was obvious. She turned on her stomach and buried her head in the pillows at the mere memory of her utter abandon, so complete that she had barely registered the fleeting pang as he took her for the first time. His manners were good, she granted him that, having the good grace to refrain from asking why, at her advanced age, she had never gone this far before. Perhaps he hadn't noticed. The truth would have been a bit embarrassing. How could she have explained that all her adult life she had been waiting for just that very combination of mental and physical cataclysm to sweep her off her feet as it had done tonight. But overwhelming as it was, it still wasn't enough. She wanted Ben head over heels in love with her as well.
Ben was fond of her, respected her, and now it was proved beyond all doubt that he wanted her body as much as he needed her capabilities. Verity turned on her side and settled herself determinedly to sleep, vowing fiercely that somehow she would make him fall in love with her. One day he'd be on his knees—at this her natural good sense reasserted itself and she smiled in the darkness. It was impossible to imagine Ben on his knees, somehow, and if he were she rather fancied she wouldn't care for him in supplicating mood anyway. Ben would demand, not beg, and one day, as sure as God made little apples, he'd demand her love in return for his own.
CHAPTER EIGHT
'A fine romance, with no kisses' was the tune echoing in Verity's head for the next few weeks as she lived her life in a frenetic, unending round of hard work and wedding arrangements which left little time, or inclination, for much dalliance of any kind between herself and Ben. The property-market was having a final energy-consuming fling before dying down for the winter, and the eventual wedding date was set for the end of October, when Verity felt she could leave Lockhart & Welch with a clear conscience and no feeling of desertion.
'I'd never have let Ben Dysart within a mile of you if I'd thought he'd spirit you away,' grumbled John Randall good-naturedly. 'Can't see why you have to leave. Most women work after marriage these days.'
'I'm no exception,' said Verity tartly. 'Ben needs a helping hand with the estate and I'm going to supply it.'
'Sounds very businesslike, the whole thing,' he said morosely. 'Ben might just as well have offered you a job instead of proposing, it seems to me.'
'Thanks.' Verity gave him a fulminating look as she opened his office door to leave. 'It just so happens he wants a wife as well.'
'Lucky chap to get two for the price of one!' John's eyes twinkled, but Verity's sense of humour had become a sensitive plant of late.
'You do wonders for my ego, Mr Randall,' she snapped, and flounced out, but he called her back.
'Sorry, sweetheart,' he said sincerely. 'Did I touch an exposed nerve?'
Verity relaxed and smiled apologetically. 'Think nothing of it. I have it on the best authority that all bridal nerves are entitled to expose themselves. Sounds faintly rude—I'd better be off.'
Verity and Ben saw each other at irregular intervals, occasionally at the cottage, but never at night, and rarely alone, as the place was usually alive with workmen fitting the kitchen, or painting.
In fact, the odd mixture of restraint and camaraderie Ben showed towards Verity brought her to the point of despair at times, and yet at others glad of the breathing space that allowed them to get to know each other better. Whereas before there had been uncertainty and sexual tension in their relationship, now they had time to learn more about each other, tastes, backgrounds, feelings and opinions, a surprising amount of which they had in common, as Ben had insisted from the first.
Their first trip together had been to Birkenhead to meet her mother and Ian. This was a great success, as both Hannah and Ian Craig liked Ben Dysart on sight, a feeling which was mutual, to Verity's relief, as her mother was sometimes a little outspoken for some people's tastes. Ben enjoyed Hannah's directness, responding in like manner, not permitting her to bully him into eating the sweet things she most enjoyed cooking. It was in an effort to deflect his wife's persistence that Ian caused the only apprehensive moment Verity experienced the entire weekend. They had been sitting over dinner on the first evening, Ben resolutely eating his usual cheese, in spite of Hannah's blandishments.
'Such a shame,' she said regretfully, 'when you obviously don't need to watch your weight.' She passed an enormous plateful of blackberry pie smothered in cream to her husband. 'Ian here eats cakes, pudding, anything you care to name and never puts on an ounce. He has some defence-mechanism against calories— worth a fortune if he could market it.'
'I think they call it hard work,' said Ian mildly and turned to Ben with the obvious intention of changing the subject. 'I gather you've recently returned to civilian life from the Royal Marines—it must be quite a readjustment.'
Verity held her breath. Ben never volunteered much about his life in the Marines, but to her surprise began to talk quite naturally about it, his audience deeply interested about his training at Lympstone and Dartmouth.
'The life of an officer isn't quite all cakes and ale,' he said with a grin. 'At Lympstone one was obliged to complete the thirty-mile speed march in seven hours to the recruits' eight, which was a shade testing.'
Ian shuddered. 'Killing sounds a more appropriate description!'
'There are compensations, of course. Every marine must become a qualified skier, and I've always enjoyed that type of thing.'
Verity suddenly remembered a broad-shouldered outline advancing towards her in the unlit cottage, moonlight playing on the long, flat muscles she now realised were the characteristic of the accomplished skier. Heat ran through her and her mouth went dry at the memory of what had followed the first contact of that superb body against her own. She started violently as she realised her mother was speaking to her, colouring as three pairs of eyes looked at her in amusement.
'Verity, I was asking you to fetch the coffee—you were miles away,' said Hannah.
'Sorry!' Guiltily Verity jumped up, glad to escape, taking her time before returning, by which time the conversation had turned to other matters.
The rest of their stay passed pleasantly, and they were on the way home on the Sunday when Ben remarked idly, 'What were you thinking about on Friday evening when I was talking about my training?'
'I can't remember,' lied Verity.
'Yes you can. You went bright red—an endearing habit of yours—when your mother called your name for the third time. Come on, out with it.'
'It was nothing, really,' said Verity irritably. 'Merely that when you mentioned being a qualified skier I realised how you came by your muscles.'
'And you thought of the time in the cottage?'
'Yes.'
'I see. And was the memory pleasant?'
She shot him a suspicious glance, but his profile was unreadable as usual.
'Not unpleasant, certainly,' she said.
'Oh Verity, how grudging!' Ben gave her a wicked, sidelong grin that evoked an unwilling response, which changed to a chuckle.
'Straight on top of Mother's duck and orange sauce the memory had rather an alarming effect!'
'I hope you're not equating my lovemaking with in
digestion!' He sounded injured.
Verity smiled demurely, staring straight ahead. 'No, I wouldn't do that,' privately wishing she could, as there were remedies for indigestion, whereas the feeling that gripped her at Ben's merest touch seemed likely to be incurable.
'Personally I don't think further moonlit visits to the cottage very advisable, while we're on the subject,' went on Ben casually.
Verity knew he was right, but felt disproportionately annoyed that the suggestion had come from Ben rather than herself.
'No,' she said coolly. 'It might be a good idea to cut out that sort of thing altogether until we're married.'
Ben turned a wary eye on her averted face. 'Entirely? Not even a goodnight kiss?'
'I meant it might be best if we avoided long periods alone anywhere,' she said grinning, her sense of humour returning. 'I mean, I know you want a family, but from my point of view I'd just as soon the first member appeared after a respectable interval, don't you agree?'
Ben's face lost its impassivity. 'My God!' He took a hand off the wheel and ran it through his hair. 'Do you mean ?'
'Don't panic,' she said kindly. 'Let's just say this time we were lucky—next time might be less—or more-opportune. Whichever way you like to think of it.'
He let out a long breath. 'You're taking it very calmly.'
'I do my best,' she said smugly. 'Are you coming in when we get back?'
'Isn't that a rash invitation under the circumstances?'
'Not really. Now you're alive to the risk I'm sure you'll proceed accordingly.' Verity stole a look at him. 'I suppose you've never had to think about it before, in this age of enlightenment.' Her eyes narrowed. 'Though I seem to remember Gussie—'
'Can we leave Gussie out of it,' he snapped. 'I find schoolgirl reminiscences distasteful in the extreme under the circumstances.'
Deeply offended Verity maintained a distant silence for the remainder of the journey, glad when they arrived. There was no lightening of Ben's black mood as he took her suitcase from the car into the house, a mere brief goodbye his only word at parting, with no mention of their next meeting before he drove off. It was a welcome relief to find both her young tenants were in, happy to ply her with tea and put forward a new proposal about the future.
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