by Penny Jordan
She heard the faint click of the french doors as they opened and sighed, guessing that Kevin had returned, his footsteps faintly muffled by the snow. The sudden warmth of his jacket as he placed it round her shoulders showed her how cold she had been and she snuggled into it automatically, tensing like an animal sensing danger, confused by the contradictory information relayed by its senses. The warm man-smell of the jacket draped round her belonged not to Kevin, but to Jake. She moved at the same moment as his arms imprisoned her against the balustrade, the backs of his hands lean and richly tanned against the whiteness of the snow.
‘What the hell are you trying to do? Freeze to death?’
‘Well, it would be one way of getting rid of me, wouldn’t it?’ she taunted bitterly. ‘You should have left me alone.’
‘Ah yes, that always was a favourite refrain of yours.’ His voice seemed to come from deep within his chest, and yet it was soft and low, barely reaching her ears, laced with a bitterness which was like jagged teeth sawing at the pain in her heart. ‘Leave me alone!’
‘Rita will be wondering where you are,’ Kate told him tonelessly.
‘You’d better go back inside.’
‘Perhaps I prefer it out here.’ Why was he doing this to her? Tormenting her like this?
‘In that case, I’ll go back inside. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it far more without me.’
‘You think so?’ He had moved closer towards her and she stepped backwards automatically, stifling a small gasp as the small of her back came into contact with the unyielding stone. Immediately Jake’s arms steadied her, one hand sliding beneath his jacket, stroking over the flesh she had just bruised, his other hand spanning the back of her neck, forcing her slowly against him and into contact with the hardness of his chest, the braced muscles of his thighs, his breath warm against her forehead as he murmured something she couldn’t catch.
At the first contact with his body she started to tremble violently, a response which had nothing to do with the cold. In fact she was barely aware of the low temperature around them, only the heat which seemed to leap between their bodies, tiny flickers of flame licking through her veins, her legs boneless and weak as Jake held her. She had no means of escape. Behind her was the parapet, and in front of and around her, was Jake, filling her senses just as intensely as the night had done before he arrived.
‘I saw you come out with Kevin. What happened? Did you get cold feet at the last minute?’
‘We came out here to talk,’ Kate lied coldly, shivering at the laughter which began deep in his throat and held a raw edge of violence that tensed her muscles.
‘Do you honestly expect me to believe that?’ he demanded.
‘What are you trying to suggest?’ she snapped. ‘That we came out here to make love? We aren’t teenagers, Jake, desperate for every few seconds we can snatch together.’
‘He wants you,’ Jake retorted savagely. ‘You may not have been lovers yet, Kate, but he wants you. Just like I want you, God damn you,’ he swore bitterly. Beneath the protection of his jacket, his hands started to mould her body. She was helpless to prevent him, every ounce of spare energy needed to combat the fierce yearning of her body to throw caution to the winds and drown herself completely in the sweetly tormenting sea of desire enfolding her. His mouth touched hers, lightly, his lips cold, his tongue warm as it moved across her lips in demand and invitation. Her mouth opened instinctively, the feeling of deprivation she suffered when Jake moved almost unbearable.
‘Kate.’ He muttered her name fiercely as though it was an incantation, his lips no longer cold but burning against her skin as he traced a line of kisses along her throat, his fingers trapping the pulse thudding urgently against her skin and then moving downwards, following the lines of her dress, lingering tormentingly against the swell of her breasts. ‘Kate, you want me too, you know you do,’ he muttered against her throbbing pulse, the hungry probing of his mouth increasing its uneven beat until she felt she could feel the accelerated surge of the blood through her body, beating up at every pulse point in rhythm with her heart until she felt it would burst through her skin. ‘I want you so much I could take you here and now, like a crazed boy,’ he told her rawly. ‘That’s what you do to me.’
His fingers probed the neckline of her dress, seeking and finding the rounded softness of her breast, pushing the soft silk of her dress aside until he had revealed the aroused throbbing aureole of deep pink flesh to his gaze. With eyes which had accustomed themselves to the darkness Kate saw the dark flush of red lying along the line of his cheek bones, his eyes almost black, glittering with a hunger that made her shudder deeply in response, and her fingers automatically slid between the buttons of his dress shirt, stroking the moist, hot flesh beneath. ‘Kate, Kate.’ Her name was a low moan in his throat as his mouth burned against her skin, the erotic movement of his thumb against her nipple causing her to unfasten the buttons of his shirt and slide her hands inside, stroking him with feverishly hungry caresses, not caring that they were standing almost in full view of the drawing room, or that it was still snowing, her every sense concentrated on the man holding her in his arms, lifting her to a plateau of pleasure where nothing existed but one another.
The deep neckline of her dress afforded Jake an intimacy that brought a fierce sound of satisfaction from his throat, his hands urging her against him, his mouth hotly demanding against hers, coaxing from her a response which left her dizzy and shaken, barely aware of where she was as she tried to get closer to the throbbing arousal she could feel pounding through him. Her head dropped willingly against his arm as his lips explored her throat, his head dark against her breast as he bent lower, merging with the darkness of her dress, his hair dusted with snowflakes. His tongue stroked moistly over one nipple and then the other, cherishing them, leaving both her and himself trembling, and then suddenly losing control, his mouth closed over one erect nipple, his fingers splayed possessively against the rounded flesh.
A fierce shaft of pleasure ran sharply through her body which arched instinctively against him, a delicately responsive shudder he must have felt engulfing her as she felt the faint grate of his teeth against her skin. ‘Kate, for God’s sake, come back with me tonight. Let me…’
If he hadn’t spoken Kate knew she would have followed him mutely to the ends of the earth, but he did speak, breaking the delicate spell that bound them together, and suddenly she was overwhelmingly aware that they were making love like a couple of adolescents betrayed by their emergent senses, and a deep sense of shame overrode the pleasure that had been tingling through her body. She pushed him away, catching him off guard, barely able to look into his face, shivering at the passion she saw there; the half blinded look of need. Her fingers felt frozen as she struggled to straighten her dress.
‘All right, Kate, I get the message,’ Jake told her in a voice deep with sarcasm. ‘Kevin was right to leave you. When he goes to bed tonight it’s only his heart that will be aching!’
He fastened his shirt without another word, retrieving his jacket and leaving her almost before she had time to gather her scattered wits.
She realised when she returned to the crowded drawing room seconds later that in all she had only been out on the terrace for about fifteen minutes. At the time it had seemed much longer, but apart from the icy glare she received from Rita no one else seemed to be aware that she had been missing.
The rest of the evening passed in a dull blur. She must have eaten and talked; she remembered going to church, singing carols with the others and then returning with Kevin for the traditional mince pies and another glass of sherry. At one point in the evening she surfaced to find herself talking to a man who was a complete stranger, but who seemed to know her—and her anti-nuclear status. They talked for some time, but later Kate could barely remember what either of them had said.
She left as early as she decently could, trying not to notice that Jake was talking to Rita when she said her goodbyes. The other woman had apparen
tly forgiven him his transgressions, and Kate shivered as she walked out into the thickening snow. Would Rita spend tonight in Jake’s arms, in Jake’s bed? The pain that followed the thought was a self-imposed agony and one that endured long after she ought to have been asleep, torturing her with images of Jake and Rita together, Rita caressing the male body she knew so well it was no effort to conjure it up out of her memory to further torment her.
Morning brought no lightening of her grim mood. The moment she opened her eyes Kate was aware of the snow. Impossible to spend eight consecutive seasons in the Dales without learning to recognise that peculiar clarity of light; that stillness that invaded the senses alerting them even without the benefit of sight. The snow lay crisp and virgin outside, the sky a clear duck-egg blue. The lights on the Christmas tree offered a poor contrast to the brilliance of the winter sun. Kate moved automatically in the kitchen, preparing the turkey, putting it in the oven, organising the vegetables, setting the table using the red napkins she had bought to add a festive touch to the white linen. A Christmassy table arrangement of gold candles and cones adorned the centre of the table. The gifts she had bought for Sarah lay under the tree along with hers from Meg and Kevin. How pitifully sparse it all was somehow; how different from the Christmases she had always envisaged for herself as a child. She had always imagined at least two children, perhaps three. In these imaginings her husband had always been a vague, shadowy figure, unlike Jake, who dominated every scene he entered. Jake’s child…
Her stomach clenched on a fierce surge of pain. She found it inconceivable now that she had ever been stubborn enough to refuse him children. Stubborn…she tasted the word cautiously. In the past she had always thought of herself as making a moral decision which she had stood by because her own self-respect demanded it. Why should she now see herself with hindsight as a sulky stubborn child? Jake had wanted children, and she had deprived him of them. Had it been entirely because of her fears of a nuclear war, or had it been partially as a form of punishment when he didn’t give in to her urgings to give up his job? How she had resented that job! It kept him away from her when she wanted him, it meant that he came home from work late and often tired. It had taken him away from her!
Not liking her train of thought, she gave the table a final check and then set out for Sarah’s. She decided to walk, and pulled boots on over her slim-fitting cords, adding an attractive quilted jacket over one of her own jumpers. In lilacs and mauves, it suited her fair colouring. The design was an intricate one—‘snowflakes’, appropriately enough, white flakes of snow falling through a deep lilac sky on to the mauve sheep-dotted earth below. It had sold well, and clung softly to her breasts when she moved. Outside the air was as pure and clear as crystal and she breathed it in with pleasure.
It was just under a mile to Sarah’s cottage at the end of the village, and by the time she reached it Kate was just beginning to tire. Sarah had obviously been waiting for her, because she opened the door almost immediately.
It had been over a week since she had last seen Sarah, and Kate was dismayed to see how frail and anxious she was looking. She seemed to start nervously at every sound, although she offered Kate a cup of coffee which she accepted, Kate was conscious of her desire to leave the house. Something was wrong, but she knew she would have to tread carefully if she was to find out what. Sarah was intensely proud, as were most of the Dalespeople.
While they drank their coffee Kate admired the cards and gifts which had arrived from Sarah’s family in New Zealand. The gifts ranged from the costly down to the homely, the latter obviously bought with well saved pocket money by the more junior members of the family, every one of them sharing a common desire to show Sarah how much she was loved and missed. It could not be because she felt her family was neglecting her that Sarah was so depressed, Kate decided, her eyes misting slightly as she shared her friend’s pleasure in her family’s love.
After dinner they watched the Queen and then sank into a companionable silence, but all the time Kate was aware that something was missing, and a deep yearning seemed to fill her; a need to share this day of all days with Jake. What was he doing now? Had he been invited to Rita’s home? Was he there with her now?
When the evening’s feature film had ended, Sarah insisted that it was time she returned home. Kate walked with her, going inside with her friend to check that all was in order before she set out for the walk home.
Even during the short time she had been inside the cottage the temperature had dropped, and Kate shivered, huddling deeper into her jacket, her forehead pleating in a frown as she remembered how skilfully Sarah had avoided her questions. There was something bothering her friend, she was sure of it, but she was no closer to discovering exactly what it was. Could she be having money troubles? For all that there was gossip about her wealth, Kate was worried that the older woman might be too proud to ask for State help if it was needed. She would talk to Kevin about it, she decided; he had the welfare of the villagers very close to his heart.
She was halfway along the village street, trudging along, head down, to avoid the knifing wind that heralded more snow, when she heard the sound of a car behind her. To judge from the soft purring noise of the engine it was only moving slowly and she turned automatically, the blood leaving her face as she recognised Jake’s BMW. Where had he been? Rita’s? But surely nine o’clock was early to be going home?
Automatically she increased her walking pace, which was silly because he had obviously seen her and caught her up with no difficulty at all, matching the crawl of the car to her flurried paces.
Winding down the window, he called out sharply, ‘Kate, I’m in no mood to play games—get in before you freeze to death!’
It seemed foolish to refuse, and by the look of him he looked as though he would take any refusal on her part to comply with his command with ill grace.
The interior of the BMW felt deliciously warm after the chill outside. Jake, Kate was surprised to see, looked tired, dark shadows along his jaw. He was dressed casually in a checked shirt and a V-necked sweater, over jeans, hardly the clothes she would have expected him to wear to dine with Rita’s parents, who she knew dressed very formally on ‘occasions’.
‘Why isn’t Kevin driving you home?’
The question surprised her so much that for a second her mind went blank, and then she rallied. ‘Perhaps because he’s working at the hospital,’ she replied tartly. ‘I’ve just been walking a friend of mine home. She lives alone at the other end of the village and she isn’t all that young… We had Christmas dinner together.’ Now why had she told him that? It had sounded so pathetic somehow.
‘I had mine in the canteen,’ Jake responded shortly. He lifted one hand from the wheel to rub the back of his neck. ‘God, I’m tired! I’ve given Mrs Hillary a few days off, and I decided I might as well go in to the station—it meant that someone else could have the time off. Someone with a family to spend it with,’ he grimaced wryly. ‘Unappetising though the canteen fare is, at least it was hot. Mrs Hillary promised to leave me something cold.’ He glanced out of the car window. ‘Hardly appealing in these conditions.’
Almost before she was aware of what she was doing Kate blurted out, ‘I could make you something hot.’ Her voice faded away, rich colour flooding her face. What on earth would he think? That she had had second thoughts and that this was her way of telling him that she wanted him in the same purely sexual way that he wanted her?
She held her breath in the tension that followed, ready to wince under the sardonic lash of his tongue, but instead all he said was, ‘Thanks, Kate, I’d appreciate that. There’s something very unappealing about going back to a cold, empty house, especially at this time of year.’
He stopped the car outside her door, and she waited for him to lock up as she opened it. The warmth of the flat reached out to embrace them as they went upstairs, the rich smell of Christmas lunch still hanging appetisingly on the air. ‘Umm, that smells good,’ Jake commented.
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br /> ‘I could make you some if you like? The turkey will be cold…’
‘I’d love it,’ Jake assured her. Under the electric light he looked tireder than ever, and Kate snapped it off automatically, plugging in the lights of the tree. In the darkness they came into their own, glittering softly. ‘I see you’ve got a real tree,’ Jake remarked softly. ‘You always did prefer them.’
‘Yes.’ She turned away, trying not to remember their first Christmas and the tree he had brought home for her. They had planned to go out together to buy one, but he had to work at the last minute and when she got there the shop had sold out. As a peace offering he had scoured the town for one, and after they had decorated it they had made love…
‘You sit down,’ she told him. ‘I’ll go and see about getting you some food. Do you still like roast potatoes?’ What a prosaic question, and how much it hurt to think of his tastes changing, his eating habits shaped by another woman during her absence.
‘Yes. Kate…’ She turned and waited, watching him run his hand tiredly through his hair. ‘Do you think I could possibly have a shower?’ he asked, disconcerting her. ‘It might help revitalise me a little.’
His admission that he was tired worried her. ‘Jake, you don’t have to eat with me if you’d rather go home,’ she told him quietly. ‘If you’re tired…’