by Anne Mather
‘Stubborn old cuss, isn’t he?’
Jarret’s amused voice came from the doorway, interrupting their exchange, and Helen looked eagerly towards him. In clean denim jeans and a matching shirt, half open down the tanned expanse of his chest, he looked young and disturbingly attractive, only the pouches beneath his eyes, evidence of the nights he had spent. Helen’s heart hammered wildly at the realisation that he wanted her. She wanted him, too, but his stepfather’s presence precluded any overtures on her part, and she was obliged to look away.
‘Helen and I have just been getting to know one another,’ Patrick retorted, surveying his stepson with mildly approving eyes. ‘I must say you look a little more human, if still somewhat dissipated.’
‘He’s always so honest,’ Jarret remarked dryly, coming across to where Helen was sitting and forcing her to acknowledge him. ‘It’s a strong case of familiarity, and like you, he knows my weaknesses.’
Helen blushed, she couldn’t help it, but when his fingers slid between hers, she let him pull her down off the table and into his arms.
‘I’ve been waiting for this,’ he said, against her mouth, and the intimacy of that probing caress took her breath away.
She didn’t want to let him go and it was certain that hedidn’t want to release her, but somehow he managed to school his features and turn back to face his stepfather when Patrick said:
‘Do you two want anything to eat? Or have you got enough there?’
Jarret grinned, albeit a little twistedly, and with his fingers tight about Helen’s wrist, he said: ‘I’m going to take Helen out for lunch, Dad. We—er—we need a little time alone together, but we’ll come back later, if that’s all right with you.’
Patrick grimaced, his eyes knowing. ‘I thought my baked beans wouldn’t be good enough for you,’ he declared, but when Helen started to protest, he only laughed. ‘I’m teasing, lassie,’ he exclaimed, and seeing Jarret’s amused eyes upon her, Helen realised she had been caught again.
They took the Alfa, with Jarret’s lean length folded behind the wheel, and drove to the nearest delicatessen. Jarret bade her wait for him, and emerged fifteen minutes later with a long roll of french bread, some peaches and cheese, and a bottle of rich red wine.
‘ “And thou beside me…in the wilderness”,’ he quoted softly, as he got back into the car, and Helen’s heart flipped a beat as she met his caressing gaze.
He took her out of London, into the Berkshire countryside, where it was still possible to find a quiet country lane, with a lush green pasture and a tumbling stream at the bottom of it. The field was already occupied by a herd of brown and white cows and Jarret laughingly advised her to tread warily. But the docile creatures paid them no heed, and they found a shady corner beneath the branches of a spreading oak.
‘Heaven!’ sighed Helen, sinking down on to the grass and spreading her arms to the vista of rolling countryside and blue, blue sky, but when Jarret repeated the word he was looking at her.
‘Dear God, I love you,’ he muttered, taking her face between his hands, and then he lowered her back against the soft turf to cover her mouth with his own.
Helen had no will to resist him, even had she wanted to. Her bare arms were around his neck and the imprisoning weight of his body was all the stimulant she needed. Shewanted him, all of him, and her lips parted under his. Her blood seemed to be rushing through her veins, making her acutely aware of the intimacy of their embrace, inflaming her emotions and firing her hunger. She no longer thought about what she was doing. She was all feeling, all woman, and instinctively intuitive of exactly how to please him.
‘Helen…’ he groaned, as her fingers slid beneath his shirt to spread against the smooth flesh of his back. ‘This isn’t fair. I’m trying to keep my head, but you don’t make it easy!’
‘Don’t,’ she murmured simply, caressing his hips, and his unmistakable response made her arch her back towards him.
But even as Jarret’s hand slid possessively along her thigh, he drew back, dragging himself up and away from her, thrusting strong but unsteady fingers into his hair at his temples.
‘Jarret…’
Chilled by his withdrawal, Helen struggled on to her knees to sit staring at him with anxious eyes. What was wrong? Why had he rejected her? Was it something she’d done? She was overcome with frustration at her own ignorance, and desperate that he should not walk out on her again.
‘Jarret,’ she persisted, touching his sleeve. ‘Jarret, don’t you want me any more? I—I don’t expect any commitment from you. If—if you want me—’
‘If I want you?’ he muttered, turning anguished eyes in her direction. ‘You’re all I do want, Helen. Now. Always.’
‘Then—’
Jarret shook his head. ‘I—I made a promise to myself. That if ever I got the chance again, I wouldn’t louse things up. And I don’t intend to.’
Helen gazed at him in bewilderment. ‘I don’t understand…’
‘Helen, listen to me!’ Almost against his will, it seemed, he turned and took her hands, one in each of his. Then, compulsively, he raised her hands to his lips, saying nothing for several seconds, just burying his face in her palms. When he had himself in command once more he went on: ‘That night—the night all hell broke loose, I—oh God! I wanted you, Helen. I was desperate, and when—when youstarted talking about marriage, I guess I lost control. It seemed such a paltry thing compared to the way I felt about you, and I wanted you to want me that way, too.’
‘I did! I do!’ exclaimed Helen impulsively, but he silenced her with his hand across her lips.
‘I guess I’ve lived so long with people who don’t care to make any commitment to one another, who live for the day and let tomorrow take care of itself. I thought I could live that way, too, but from the minute I laid eyes on you I knew that sooner or later I’d have to make the choice.’
‘You don’t have to say this, Jarret,’ Helen exclaimed imploringly. ‘Honestly. I—I don’t care. I love you, and I want to be with you. However long you want me.’
‘And if that happens to be life?’ he suggested softly.
‘That’s okay.’
‘Well, it’s not okay for me,’ said Jarret huskily. ‘You see, these last days I’ve realised what it’s like not having any hold on you, not knowing from one minute to the next who you’re with or who’s making passes at you. I don’t think I can stand that for much longer. Strange as it may seem, I want my ring on your finger, and all the protection that brings with it. Besides,’ his lips twitched, ‘I want children—your children and mine. And I don’t want them growing up not knowing who their father is.’
‘Oh, Jarret!’ Helen pressed her lips tightly together. ‘Are—are you sure?’
‘Sure I’m sure,’ he groaned, releasing her hands to seek the scented flesh of her upper arms. ‘You ask Paddy. He’s never seen me like this before. Pray God he never will again!’
Helen shook her head. ‘I can’t believe this…’
‘You’d better believe it. As soon as this book is finished, we’re going to the States, and then how does Hawaii sound to you? For our honeymoon, I mean?’
‘It sounds like paradise,’ she confessed helplessly, and he permitted himself to touch her shoulder with his tongue.
‘Good.’ With an obvious effort, he released her and turned to the carrier of food he had dropped beside him. ‘Now, are you hungry?’
‘Only for you,’ she breathed, taking the bread out of his hands and winding herself closely against him. ‘Jarret, Ihave an ache—just here. Is there nothing you can do about it?’
‘Helen…’ His voice was thick with protest, but her mouth parting his was more than he could resist. He bore her back against the lush blades of grass, crushing her beneath him and letting her feel the thrusting urgency of his body. Her limbs yielded to his, inviting his invasion, and Jarret’s senses swam.
‘Are you sure?’ he said once, as her hands slid the shirt from his shoulders, and she nodded eagerly.<
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‘Please,’ she whispered, and with a hunger even he could not disguise, he took what was undeniably his.
She had not really known what she was inviting. Karen’s descriptive narratives had still left chapters unexplored, and her own limited knowledge had prepared her to be disappointed, at least the first time. But it wasn’t like that at all. The pain she had anticipated was swiftly absorbed by the intense physical pleasure of his possession, and soon only sweetness remained and an urgent wild abandonment. With his mouth exploring her ears and neck, returning again and again to the moist parting of hers, she felt on fire with emotions she had not even known existed, twisting sensuously beneath him, loving every movement of his powerful body.
When the release came, it was like a huge explosion of feeling, that ran down through her legs and arms, to every extremity of her body, leaving only weakness and satisfaction, and a warm, sweet lethargy. Her arms were around his neck, her limbs moulded to his, and his tender caress was like the calm after the storm.
‘Did I hurt you?’ he whispered, reluctant to move away, and her lips parted in a soft smile.
‘You—you pleased me,’ she said shyly. ‘And I don’t ache any more.’
‘You will,’ he told her huskily, and his mouth found hers again before he rolled away from her.
They lay in the soft grass, sharing the bread and wine, Helen breaking off juicy slices of peach to drop into his mouth.
‘We must do this again,’ she teased, hovering above him, and he crushed her down to him once more.
‘And what if someone should come?’ he breathed, between her breasts, but she only sighed.
‘No one will,’ she declared with surety. ‘This is our own private place, and—’
‘And?’
‘—and I love you, Jarret. So very much.’
It was hours before they eventually returned to the car, both sleepy and satiated with lovemaking, all the hollows ironed out from Helen’s face, and even tired, Jarret managed to look devastatingly attractive.
‘What happened to your car?’ Helen asked, snuggling up to him as he reversed the Alfa, and Jarret smiled.
‘Margot returned it,’ he conceded. ‘Yesterday, actually. Once she realised I wasn’t about to go looking for it. She had her chauffeur return it to the garage below the apartments where I live.’ He shook his head. ‘I saw the commissionaire when I went back to get some clothes. He told me.’
‘Thank goodness!’ Helen was relieved. ‘Why did she destroy your typewriter anyway?’
‘Can’t you guess?’ Jarret glanced at her. ‘She guessed how I felt about you, and when I told her I hoped to take you to New York with me…’
Helen shook her head, running a probing finger along his thigh. ‘And what can you do about the machine?’
‘Get it fixed, I guess. Fortunately, I’ve got a couple of others,’ he replied, stopping her teasing finger from reaching its objective. ‘Honey, give me a chance! I’ve got to drive this thing.’
‘But you’re coming back to King’s Green, aren’t you?’
‘I’m going to buy King’s Green,’ he told her gently, and she lifted her head to gaze at him in amazement.
‘You are?’
‘Of course. I’ve worked so much better since I left London, and besides, I like the idea of keeping it in the family.’
‘Oh, Jarret…’
Helen pressed a moist kiss against his cheek, and he turned his head to find her mouth with his. ‘Now, behave,’ he muttered, forcing his concentration back to the road. ‘I wonder how soon I can get a special licence. I have no intention of sleeping alone when we go to tell your mother thenews. And somehow I don’t think she’d approve of anything else, do you?’
Helen frowned. ‘I wonder what I’ll do about the shop?’
Jarret shrugged. ‘Let Karen handle it. You can retain your interest, if you want to. Just so long as I have first call on your time.’
Helen smiled. ‘You’ll always have that,’ she whispered, and his eyes softened dramatically.
‘I’m sorry…’
‘For what?’ She was puzzled.
‘For—well, for wasting so much time,’ he muttered.
‘Three days?’
‘It’s seemed like three years,’ he protested feelingly. Then, as the atmosphere became more intense, he deliberately lightened it. ‘Do you think you could bear to eat fish and chips for supper? They’re Paddy’s favourite, and we did promise to go back.’
‘Can I stay?’ she asked anxiously, half alarmed that he might send her to an hotel, but his low growl was humorous.
‘Did you think I was going to let you out of my sight?’ he demanded. ‘Mind you, it is only a single bed…’
‘Too big, you mean?’ murmured Helen huskily, and his profile relaxed into a smile of intense satisfaction.
ISBN-13: 9781460347812
HELL OR HIGH WATER
© 1979 Anne Mather
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