Oh, Vere, how I love you, Fabienne mourned, her heart going out to him. He had never seemed more dear to her than at that moment. But alarm shot through her suddenly. Because, while she was half aware that the twins were somehow no longer sheltered by her arms but by his-where she wanted to be-Fabienne also became aware that Vere's gaze was on nobody but her!
Immediately she panicked. Oh, God, how had she been looking at him? Had he seen something of her caring for him in her look?
She need not have worried, she realised a moment later, because as she prepared to give him the cold shoulder treatment-and so disprove any hint he might have gleaned that she was head over heels in love with him-Vere took his gaze from her and, just as if she did not exist, confided in John, 'I think Mrs Hobbs has been baking biscuits.'
With a whoop the two children set off and, as a feeling of being redundant attacked, Fabienne began to feel a shade mutinous. To his credit Vere did stand back to allow her to precede him through the door that Kitty and John had just charged through. But, with her nose in the air, she did not thank him for it.
And I'll bet that crushed him, she thought self-mockingly up in her room, knowing for certain that he was not even aware of her. She sighed, and made herself think of the children. They would both be missing their mother, not just Kitty. She went into the playroom and was there ready when, fed and refreshed, they came hurrying up the stairs.
Dinner that evening was uneventful but just as she and the children were leaving the dining-room Vere called her back.
'Yes?' she enquired, her heartbeats quickening as she looked at him. She wished with all she had that she did not love him, but knew the futility of that. 'Perhaps, when you've Kitty and John settled for the evening, you'd come down to the drawing-room.'
Her heart lurched just him, just her. 'Very well,' she said coolly, and went on her way. Regardless that that 'perhaps' might have made it sound like an invitation, it was, she knew, an order. But, even while she admitted that taking orders was not her strong suit, her heart was singing.
She would, of course, guard against Vere seeing how she felt about him-pride, if nothing else, demanded that. But she so ached to see him, to be with him-- even if he only wanted to see her to tell her off about any number of things she, who was not perfect, could have done.
In the way of all things frustrating, Kitty and John took longer to settle that night. Even while she desperately wanted to hurry them up the sooner to be with Vere, though, Fabienne somehow managed to appear as though she had all the time in the world to listen to their troubles. Especially tonight, when they did not have the security of their mother being under the same roof. Eventually, however, she was able to leave them, Kitty in one room and John right next door. And that was when everything rose up in Fabienne and she owned that she was a dithering emotional mess. She wanted to change into something elegant, something sophisticated, but at the same time she was feeling so vulnerable inside she just knew that she did not stand a chance of carrying it off should Vere raise a querying eyebrow as if to assert, I'm honoured-all this so I can rebuke you over...
In the end she left her hair loose, the way it was, and went down the stairs in the smart but-in her view--quite ordinary dress she had worn at dinner.
'Everything all right?' Vere queried, rising to his feet as she entered the drawing room.
With her? No. With the children? 'Fine,' she answered. 'Take a seat,' he invited, pointing to a nearby comfortable-looking chair. And as she complied, 'Would you like something to drink?' he enquired civilly. So far, so good. It was not to be any quick 'so take that' interview, then? Fabienne began to relax. 'A gin and tonic would be nice.' Grief! Listen to her! Her heart was racing like an express train, yet she sounded formal, precise-when what she wanted to do was to fling herself into his arms and beg him to love her.
Vere came back from the drinks table with a gin and tonic for her and a Scotch and water for himself. Placing both on a low table next to her, he moved a chair close up to the other side of the table and lowered his long length into it.
Fabienne looked at him-and away again. There seemed less than a yard separating them, and she had never been more aware of him. Needing
something to do, she stretched out a hand to her drink and picked it up and took a sip, wondering why, when Vere looked so perfectly relaxed, she was suddenly feeling uptight again.
'Any problems with Kitty and John today?' Vere wanted to know.
'Kitty-more than John, I thinkis missing her mother a little. Nothing serious,' Fabienne hastened to add, 'but just a quite natural reaction I believe, with or without their special circumstances.'
For some quite long moments Vere stared at her, his look holding hers, refusing to let her look away. Then, 'You're good with them, understanding,' he murmured, and Fabienne felt relaxed and tense all at the same time. 'They're no trouble,' she replied a degree huskily, feeling herself start to unwind that it did not after all look as though Vere had asked to see her to remonstrate with her over some matter, but seemed more-in the absence of a parent-to want to enquire into the twins' welfare that day. At the same time, though, Fabienne could not help but feel on edge. Her love for him was at the root of that, she knew. He was so close, so wonderful, so-so everything, and she was terrified of giving herself away.
'Alex, my brother,' she suddenly blurted out from nowhere, 'he called today.'
Immediately, she wished she had not said that. But it was too late now.
'Did you not see him yesterday?' Vere asked, and Fabienne just could not tell him that Alex had called more to see Rachel than her.
'Mmm, I did.' She nodded. 'But we're close-and-er-he had business this way,' she invented, in the interests of saving Vere from hurt if his sharp brain saw beyond what she was saying. To her utmost relief, he appeared to take what she had just said at face value. Though, to her surprise, asked after another male of her acquaintance. 'See anything of Lyndon Davies today?'
His tone had been casual but, recalling the spat they'd had the last time Lyndon's name had come up, Fabienne took another sip of her drink before replying. 'Rachel delivered Kitty and John to school this morning, but I saw Lyndon this afternoon when he was collecting his niece, Sadie.' Curiosity suddenly got the better of her. 'Any problem with that?' Vere gave her a steady look but, while she would have loved it had he owned to being the teeniest bit jealous-what a hope; she must be going mental-Fabienne. knew in her heart that it was more that Vere must be forever aware of who, in the interests of the children's safety, she was getting friendly with locally.
Her question, however, went unanswered. Though, albeit indirectly, Lyndon was still in there somewhere when, his tone less affable than it had been, 'You took a long time to eat your dinner last night.'
Had it been that she had just gone out for dinner she might have agreed with him. 'We went on to a jazz concert.' She saw no reason not to tell him. 'I didn't know you liked jazz!'
Fabienne did not like at all the harsh note that was creeping into his tone. 'I expect that there are a lot of things I like which you know nothing about!'
she returned sharply-and hated that, when things had seemed to be going so well, it looked as though they would start fighting at any moment. 'Then perhaps-' he began-and seemed to hesitate.
But if he was, for once, pausing to choose his words before he verbally floored her, Fabienne was not of a mind to wait around while he did so. 'If you don't mind, I'll get off to bed,' she selected as an exit line, lest he thought it bothered her one bit that they had ended up rowing yet again. She placed her glass down on the table and stood up. Then found that Vere was on his feet, too, and that she still needed an exit line. 'If Rachel should ring-' she began, off the top of her head-and was straight away floored anyway. 'She's already phoned!' Vere stated crisply.
Fabienne flicked her glance from him so he should not see the hurt in her eyes, the hurt and pain of jealousy. 'Goodnight!' she bade him offhandedly and, not waiting for his reply, she went
quickly.
No doubt if Rachel had not telephoned him he would have telephoned Rachel. When had she phoned? After dinner, obviously, so as not to upset the children if they were missing her. Was it just to enquire after her children that she had phoned? Or had she rung because she had wanted to hear Vere's voice? And what about Vere-had he wanted to hear Rachel's voice, too? Was he missing her like crazy? And-what about Alex?
Fabienne got into bed wishing with all she had that she had never gone down the stairs. Life was hell, love was hell, and she wanted.., she wanted... Oh, dammit, she wanted that which she could not have. She eventually fell into a light, troubled sleep but awakened at twenty-past one to see that her door was open and to be able to make out, in the glow from the one landing light left on, that Kitty had come into her room and was standing by her bed. In an instant Fabienne was wide awake, but she kept her voice calm and gentle so as not to startle the child if she was sleepwalking. 'Hello, love,' she murmured, and discovered that Kitty was not sleepwalking but fretting for her mother.
'I'm not sleepy,' Kitty told her unhappily.
Fabienne wondered what her own mother would do in such circumstances. It took only a moment to find an answer. 'Climb in,' she invited, and Kitty needed no more bidding than that.
Inside ten minutes Kitty was sound asleep-and Fabienne was still wide awake. Half an hour after that and Fabienne, listening to Kitty's steady rhythmic breathing, formed the opinion that the child was so solidly asleep she would not waken for hours-not even in the unlikely event of the house falling down. Carefully Fabienne slid out of bed, and carefully set about picking up the lightweight child. Her task of carrying Kitty back to her own bed was made easier by the fact that Kitty had left the door open when she had entered. Fabienne's difficulty arose, however, when, on pad-ding quietly along to Kitty's room, she discovered that Kitty had carefully closed her own door behind her. Fabienne was in the throes of adjusting her hold on the child in order to have a hand free to open the door when suddenly, and with a furiously racing heart, she realised that she had no need to bother. Help was at hand! She had thought she had made not a sound, but she must have done, for someone else was awake too! Vere's hand got to the doorknob first as, taking in the situation in one glance, he opened the door to Kitty's room and led the way in.
Fabienne was by then feeling just so much nonsense. It was so unexpected; he was so dear, so tall-even with bare feet seeming taller than ever-in a robe that ended near his knees and showed a pair of long and handsome, if hairy, totally masculine legs.
Vere it was who opened up the child's bed and then turned to take Kitty from her. And Vere it was who gently laid the sleeping child down.
Fabienne covered her over and stood and looked at her for a few moments to make sure she would sleep on-and then silently, with Vere right there beside her, she tiptoed from the room.
It was Vere who, without making a sound, closed Kitty's door. Fabienne, now suddenly conscious that the neckline of her thin cotton nightdress was more decollete than decollete and that from Vere's lofty height he must have a fine view of a goodly portion of her shapely breasts, walked on. She halted when she reached her door and thought Vere would go walking on to his room. But he did not, but halted too. And all at once Fabienne did not want to remember that they had parted on unfriendly terms, and did not want him to remember it either-so searched desperately for something light and friendly to say in parting.
'We can't go on meeting like this,' she joked, and found she was staring straight into a pair of direct grey eyes. Eyes that roved her face, eyes that took in every feature, eyes that whispered over her scant covering, eyes that lingered for a moment where her breasts pushed at what material they could find to cover them. Eyes that came back to her eyes and just looked at her. K-Kitty couldn't sleep,' Fabienne added in a rush.
'Neither can I,' Vere drawled, and there was no animosity in his voice, only humour, and she loved him.
'She's only seven,' Fabienne replied, conscious of the way his glance moved to the corners of her upward-turning mouth.
'I wish-I wish I were seven,' he murmured, his eyes dancing-and Fabienne burst out laughing.
'If you think you're coming into my bed-' she began-and then, all of a sudden, she was not laughing anymore because the look on Vere's face was all at once serious. 'Vere...' she choked-and that was it. The choked sound of his name on her lips was all it took for him to reach slowly for her.
To gather her into his arms. Whether he saw encouragement in the fact that she had called out his first name she neither knew nor cared. He was warm. She wanted his warmth. She felt she had been out in the cold for too long. Willingly, she went into his arms.
For long, silent moments he looked down at her and then, as a shuddery kind of sigh escaped him, so his head came down-and a world of new emotions awakened in Fabienne.
A breath of a sigh escaped her, too, as their lips met, met and caressed, met and kissed-and kissed again. They were still in each other's arms when Vere moved with her into her room and closed the door.
Warmed by him, held close to his heart, his strong arms around her, Fabienne reached up and wound her arms around him. Words were unnecessary and their mouths met again, Vere lighting a fire in her that flamed into a roar of raw emotion.
He broke his kiss and stared down at her in the light of the night. She wished she could read his expression but there was not sufficient light for that. And did it matter?
She stretched up and kissed him and, wanting to be closer still, she pressed against him, delighting in the groan that left him. Then experienced more flames of fire when she felt his hands move down to her
hips and, through the thin material of her cotton covering, felt his hands burn into her as he pressed her yet closer to him.
'Oh, Vere,' she cried on a strangled sound, and arched back her throat as his passion soared and he traced more burning kisses down the sides of her face, her eyes, her arched throat, her breasts.
She wanted him; desperately did she want him. She knew that as his hands caressed, upwards now, until the globes of her thrusting breasts were captured in his hold.
She wanted to cry his name again, but could not. She pressed against him, and kissed him, and loved him, adored him and wanted to be his. Their kiss broke, and she laid her head against his, chest, discovered that his robe had parted and knew more ecstasy at being allowed the freedom to kiss his bare chest.
She felt his shiver of delight, and the next thing she knew his hands were caressing her body, were raising her nightdress, gently, unhurriedly, giving her as much time as she wanted should she wish to object. But she did not wish to object, but clutched at him for only the briefest of moments as a strand of shyness came out of nowhere. Then she kissed him, and stood a little away, so he could take her nightdress over her head. She had never stood naked before a man, but it seemed natural somehow that she should, without embarrassment or shame, stand before Vere then, and feel only a modicum of shyness when in what light there was he gazed at the perfect outline of her body.
'Oh, my darling, my brave darling,' broke from him as his gaze left the tips of her breasts and he gently gathered her into his arms.
A shuddering sigh shook her and Vere removed his robe and pulled her up against him. Fabienne swallowed on a knot of panic, a knot of not knowing where she was, a knot of wanting him but of being in a world where theory was about to become practice. She knew all about the facts of life but knew nothing of loving, of having an all-vibrant, throbbing male standing this close, like a second skin. She thought she might faint.
'Vere!' she gasped chokily, and clutched on to him.
'Don't be alarmed,' he breathed, and cradled her gently-as though he knew, he really knew, what she was feeling.
She almost told him then how much she truly loved him but, as though more intent on dealing with any fear she might have, Vere took a step away. 'Vere!'
She called his name in sudden panic that, having brought her to this pitc
h, he might leave her.
'It's all right,' he soothed, and stayed, his arm around her naked shoulder as he guided her over to the bed.
She smiled. He could not see, but she smiled, and they turned to each other and clung and kissed, and Vere held her by her upper arms while gently, and again unhurriedly, he traced kisses over her face and eyes, over her throat and naked shoulders and kissed his way to her breasts where he kissed each one in turn, and built in her an absolute frenzy of delight when his mouth captured the hardened pink tips he had created and she felt the moist insides of his mouth as he moulded each pink tip and swollen globe in turn-caressing that peak with his tongue, nibbling her.
She was almost swooning with rapture and a low moan escaped her when Vere's mouth left her breasts and he kissed his way down to her navel, her belly, and her thighs. .
'Vere!' she choked, and suddenly he had picked her up and she felt the wonder of him, his broad manly chest, as he raised her and then gently laid her down on the bed.
In a second he had joined her on the bed, his naked body stretched out down the length of her own, and she knew that, soon, he would make her his.
'C-can I touch you?' she asked nervously.
'Oh, sweet love,' he breathed joyously, and Fabienne kissed him and stroked his hair-roughened chest before she put her arms around him and, with his body half over hers, her hands travelled down his back. She had her hands on his unclothed hips when her need for him spiralled out of all bounds, so she pressed nearer, heard him groan, and moved so that his body was almost entirely over hers, Vere in turn pressing her down, down, down into the mattress.
Fabienne was in a mindless vortex of wanting-her body, her thighs having a will of their own as she prepared to welcome him, to hold him. She wanted ease from this fierce need, had to have the comfort of him. Wanted comfort from him as she would comfort him. Comfort--comfort! Suddenly that word would not go out of her head. Suddenly that word comfort refused to budge. And suddenly that word was screaming, shrieking through her brain. She tried to eject it; it was coming between her and the love she wanted with Vere. It was... Comfort!
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