A Class Apart

by Susan Lewis

  He thought about Ellamarie. She was probably dancing with someone inside, laughing and flirting, completely oblivious to him sitting here, contemplating whether to put an end to her happiness. But what was the point in even thinking about it? He wasn’t going to do it, so he might as well stop tormenting himself like this. Just go in, he told himself, find her, and tell her you love her.

  But what would he say to Linda? Linda, I’ve fallen in love with someone else. Our marriage is over, and I’m leaving you. He shuddered, and knew that he could never say it. Linda, I love you, I’m sorry for all the hurt I’ve caused you, but it’s over now, I’m here, and I will never do anything to hurt you again. She would ask no questions, she would just take him in her arms, and hold him, and tell him it was all right, as long as he was there.

  Dear God, which was the right way to go?

  He turned the key in the ignition, and reversed the car. Weak he might be, but he couldn’t make the decision – not now. Probably he never would. Instead, he would let fate decide what was to become of them all. Yes, let fate take the insupportable burden.

  SEVENTEEN

  Conrad walked back into the room. After Candida had passed out he had taken her upstairs and put her to bed. For a moment he had toyed with the idea of staying with her, but there was some unfinished business he had to attend to. He looked around for Robert Blackwell and saw that he was talking to Ashley. Her eyes were bright and feverish and Conrad gave a smile. Robert always was a fast worker – and as if to confirm this, he turned and started to walk towards the door that led outside to the pool. Ashley placed her glass on the tray of a passing waiter, then gathered up her handbag.

  Conrad moved swiftly, and caught up with her as she was about to disappear through the door. Ashley spun round as she felt the hand close around her wrist.

  “Dance!” said Conrad.

  “Let go of me!” she demanded, glaring first at his hand, then at him.

  He smiled, “I said dance,” and keeping a tight grip on her wrist, he all but dragged her into the ballroom.

  “How dare you!” she hissed, pulling away from him, but his hold remained firm, and she couldn’t break away. She trod heavily on his foot, and enjoyed the expression of pain that shot across his face.

  “Don’t do that again,” he said.

  She glared at him. “What are you playing at?”

  He lifted an eyebrow, and looked down at her, his mouth angled in that lopsided grin that she detested so bitterly. “Robert Blackwell was inviting you to take a swim, was he not?”

  Ashley looked at him from beneath her eyelids.

  “Just as I thought,” he said. And didn’t enlarge.

  “I don’t call that an explanation.” She tried to tread on his foot again, and failed.

  “Have you any idea what is going on out there in the pool?”

  “I imagine that people are swimming.”

  “They are doing a lot of things in the pool, but swimming is not one of them.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m sure not even you are that naive,” he said.

  “Don’t be so damned pompous,” she snapped. “Whatever is going on out there in the pool, I fail to see what it has to do with you. Now let me go.”

  “It has nothing to do with me, as I have no intention of joining in. But as you do, I have taken it upon myself to stop you, for Julian’s sake. The idea of his mistress floating around in an orgy of cavorting bodies is not one that either he, or I, would relish.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Julian is to marry my cousin in less than two weeks, and I should hate for her to develop something . . . well, shall we say something unsavoury, whilst away on her honeymoon.”

  Ashley dealt him a stinging blow across the face, which forced him to let go of her and take a step backwards.

  “For your information,” she spat at him, “I am no longer Julian’s mistress, as you like to call it, so save yourself the bother of coming near me again. Ever!” And she stormed off, her face white with rage and her hand stinging from the force of the slap.

  Across the room Kate and Joel laughed. “No more than he deserves,” said Kate. “I only wish I could have heard what he said to her.”

  “Or what she said to him. She’s quite something,” Joel remarked.

  “Isn’t she?” said Kate, not seeing the look in Joel’s eyes as they watched Ashley leave the room.

  “So,” he said, turning back to Kate. “What do you say?”

  She blushed as she remembered what they had been talking about. “OK.”

  “My room’s on the first floor.”

  “Actually, there is something I want to tell you first.”

  “Why don’t you let it wait? I’ve been dying to get you alone all night.”

  “Oh Joel, you’ve hardly spoken to me all evening.”

  “I’ve had a little work to do, I admit, but when I haven’t been attending to that, I’ve been at your side every minute. Kiss me,” he said.

  She slipped her arms round his neck, and opened her mouth in readiness for his embrace. His lips were firm against hers, and she could feel him becoming aroused. He pulled her body fiercely against his, and began to move against her, running his fingers through her hair, pressing his mouth harder and harder into hers.

  She clung to him, breathless, as he let her go. His eyes were shining, and he looked across the room. He grinned as he saw Ashley slipping in through the door that led to the pool, and his eyes took on a dark glow. By God, she was a beautiful woman.

  “Go on up,” he said. “The butler has put your things in my room, he’ll show you the way.”

  “But aren’t you coming now?” she protested.

  “I want to think about you getting ready for me.” He moved in front of her and cupped his hand between her legs. “You’re wearing underwear,” he murmured, “make sure it’s off by the time I get there.” He kissed her again. “Not a stitch, OK?”

  She nodded and went off to find the butler.

  Jenneen giggled. “Looks like Kate is going to be up to no good any minute now.”

  “Lucky devil,” said Ellamarie.

  “Her, and Ashley.”

  “Ashley?”

  “I saw her going off to the pool. Have you seen what’s going on out there?”

  Ellamarie shook her head. “No, but I can guess. Who is she with?”

  “None other than Mr Blackwell himself. Don’t look now,” she went on, “but you’re being watched again.”

  “Oh no,” Ellamarie groaned. “Not that creep again?”

  “Fraid so. He’s over by the door, can’t take his eyes off you.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t leave me on my own. He’s been watching me all night, like some kind of spook.”

  “Well, better brace yourself, I think he’s coming over,” said Jenneen.

  “What am I going to do?”

  “The ladies’.”

  “Where is it?”

  “No idea, let’s try this way,” and before the Adonis could reach them, they disappeared in the opposite direction.

  A haze of thick, swirling steam rose from the pool, and Ashley could hear the laughter and shrieks coming from within. Every now and again she saw a naked body emerge, and she was put in mind of a host of gods at play in the clouds. The cold night air bit sharply into her skin, and she shivered. The bikini she had found in the small changing room at the side of the garden covered very little.

  She stood above the lights that edged the pool and watched the steam curl around her body. Then, without a second thought, she plunged through the mist and into the water below. She swam to the other side, then jerked herself upwards, turning in the steam, and thrilling at the exhilaration of cold and warm air, brushing like a caress, against her skin. Diving back into the warm water again she felt a reckless tingling of excitement surge through her veins. She, Ashley Mayne, was going to do anything Robert Blackwell wanted her to do tonight, and th
e very thought made her catch her breath with anticipation.

  She swam back to the other side of the pool. Someone came up behind her, reaching round her and cupping her breasts in his hands. Ashley threw back her head, her lips open, and groaned as the man buried his tongue in her mouth. When he swam away she turned to watch him go, but she could see nothing through the silvery vapour.

  The lights went down, and the water lapped against her body in warm and erotic waves. Holding onto the side, she let her legs float to the surface, moving them up and down gently to keep them afloat.

  And then he was beside her. She knew it was him, the sheer magnetism of his body drew her to him. He pressed himself against her back and she could feel his nudity penetrating the flimsy scrap of material that covered her. She returned the pressure and he pulled her head back onto his shoulder, pushing his tongue against hers, his mouth wide and demanding. His fingers fumbled with the catch at the back of the bikini, then he jerked it down over her arms, and let it float away. She reached up behind her, drawing her breasts from the water. Her nipples were achingly aroused, and he took the swollen buds between his fingers.

  Lowering her reach, she lifted his erection from his belly, and her insides lurched as she heard him catch his breath. With one hand he lifted her away from him, while he drew the bottom of the bikini down over her legs. Quickly he slipped his hand between her thighs and pushed her forwards. She gripped the edge, holding her breath waiting for him to come to her.

  Gently he eased her legs apart, and with one thrust he entered her, pulling her down, handling her breasts, first with tenderness, then with passion.

  His thighs moved determinedly against her buttocks, and she held onto them, pulling them to her, and sinking beneath the surface of the water. She floated away from him, and he pulled her back, this time thrusting himself into her so hard she cried out. His hands moved over her body, and she reached up and pulled his head down to hers. He kissed her again, burying his tongue deep in her mouth, and all the while he was thrusting into her.

  Finally, with a strangulated groan, he pushed her hard against the side and ground into her, rotating and jerking his hips until he was spent.

  As he pulled free of her she turned to take him in her arms, but he was swimming away. She smiled to herself, and ran her hands over her breasts. This was how she wanted it to be too. No complications, no declarations, only the coming together of two bodies.

  She climbed out of the pool, small clouds of wispy moonlight circling from her body. Her limbs felt weak, and her knees were shaking. It was the first time in her life she had ever done anything like this, and she didn’t regret one moment of it.

  As she walked back towards the changing room the door opened and a shaft of light fell across the garden. She stopped as she saw Joel leaning against the wall, naked and dripping wet; a smile came over his face as he saw her watching him in the semi-darkness. Then a woman appeared at his side and wound her arms about his neck. Just before the door closed again Ashley saw him bury his tongue in the woman’s open mouth, but his eyes were still on her.

  She walked on into the changing room, dried herself off and redid her make-up.

  As she rejoined the party Jenneen spotted her and waved. Ashley started across the room towards her friend.

  A waiter passed, and she reached out to take a glass of champagne. It was then that she saw him. Her eyes rounded with horror. There, standing beside the champagne fountain, idly caressing the nearly naked breast of his girlfriend, was Robert Blackwell. Ashley stayed rooted to the spot, trying to deny the suspicion that was struggling to give some sense to the scene, but as he looked up and saw her watching him, the expression of regret that came into Robert’s eyes confirmed the unthinkable. Whoever it had been in the swimming pool, it had not been him.

  Ashley looked around in panic. If it wasn’t him, then who? Who had it been? Joel! She closed her eyes. Dear God, it must have been Joel. She had made love with her best friend’s boyfriend! And there was Conrad, standing with his back to the door of the pool, watching her, that detestable grin on his face. From the way he was looking at her she could tell that he knew what had happened. His smile widened a fraction as he saw the panic in her eyes and he raised his glass to her. She hated him more then than she had ever hated anyone. She turned away and started to walk blindly across the room. Whatever happened, Kate must never know. But Conrad Frazier knew. Surely he would never tell Kate. She stopped, half-turning back to Conrad. He was still watching her. No, she couldn’t ask him. Not ever! She would rather die than give him the satisfaction.

  Kate lay back in the luxury of the Karin Kinsella sheets and stared up at the ceiling. She should be happy, she knew she should. Their love-making had been probably the best ever, and she had thought that Joel might explode when he had finally reached his climax. It had been a long time in coming, he had been holding back and savouring every moment. She had given him that exquisite pleasure he craved, and he her, but somehow she felt that the fact that she gained pleasure from their love-making was purely incidental, and of no importance to him. She smiled bitterly.

  She had waited for almost an hour, sitting naked on the bed feeling pathetic, looking at the cane that she had brought with her, feeling ridiculous and dreading someone coming into the wrong room.

  When finally he came he was smiling, a smile that she didn’t quite like, and his hair was wet. She asked him what had kept him. He gave her that smile again, and asked her if she was angry. She could tell that he wanted her to be.

  And then he stripped off his clothes, and took the cane from her. But she snatched it back, she didn’t want him to beat her. She was amazed at the exitement in his face as she snatched it from him, and then he asked her to beat him. So she did, it was her only way of giving vent to her hurt and anger. She had beaten him so hard she left marks all over his thighs and buttocks. But it only served to arouse him all the more.

  She smiled. Yes, she had got pleasure from hurting him, like he hurt her. And after, when their love-making was at an end, he had rolled over, and now he was snoring gently beside her.

  She looked at him. His hair, blue-black against the white of the pillows, his eyes closed, his mouth half open. Asleep he looked almost vulnerable, and she felt sad that when awake his face was so often cloaked in a sultry arrogance, and his mouth sometimes almost cruel. She wished with all her heart that it wasn’t like this. The way she would lie awake after their passion was spent, feeling alone, and dispensable. If he knew how much she loved him, then surely he wouldn’t treat her like this. But she had told him often enough, and it had changed nothing. He seemed to enjoy humiliating her and teasing her. Was that really all he wanted from her? Just to beat her, or to have her beat him, so that he could achieve the earth-shattering climax it gave him? Couldn’t he see that there was more to her than this? That she was a woman, with feelings and a heart that needed satisfying too?

  She got out of bed and went to sit in front of the mirror. Her hair was a mess, and the jewels that had decorated it so becomingly earlier were caught in a tangle at the nape of her neck. She took her brush out of her bag and began to repair the damage.

  “What are you doing?”

  She turned to look at him. He was propped on one elbow, watching her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, and his eyes were gentle.

  She smiled, and nodded.

  “Love you,” he whispered.

  Her heart soared. It was the first time he had said that for so long.

  “Do you really mean that?” she said, going back to the bed.

  “Of course I do,” and he stroked her face. “You’re beautiful. I’ve never shared anything like this with anyone before, you know.”

  “Me neither,” she said, and she lowered her face to his, and kissed him.

  He sat up and pulled open the covers for her to get back into bed. She rested her head on his shoulder, and snuggled in closer as he wrapped his arms round her. He ran his hand down over
her shoulder and across her breast. It wasn’t a sexual move, more of a closeness really. And then he moved his hand to her tummy, and began to stroke the skin around her navel. She looked up into his eyes and he smiled and kissed the end of her nose. She sighed and lay back. It was as if he already knew.

  She wound her fingers between his. “There’s something I must tell you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Something, well, something special.”

  He hugged her, and waited for her to go on.

  She took a deep breath, then stopped. Now that the moment had arrived she was even more nervous than she had thought she would be, and the words seemed to evade her. He hugged her again, and kissed her cheek.

  She held his hand to her face, liking the rough feel of his skin. “I’m going to have a baby,” she said, her voice coming in a broken whisper.

  Immediately she felt him tense.

  “I know it’s a bit of a shock,” she rushed on, not daring to look at him yet, “but well, I hoped that when you got used to the idea, that, well, I don’t know, well, that you would be pleased.”

  He pushed her away and got out of bed. He walked over to the window, his back to her, staring out at the darkness, and said nothing.

  She waited. “Joel.”

  His back stiffened.

  She got out of bed and sat on the edge. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

  He turned, and she drew back at the look in his eyes. “Just what do you expect me to say?” His voice was cold and sarcastic.

  She looked down at her hands, and shrugged. “I don’t know really. I suppose I hoped you would be pleased – once you’d . . .”

  “Pleased? Pleased! For Christ’s sake, you expected me to be pleased that you’re pregnant? Are you mad?”