'Teale, please let me explain. I meant to tell you about Iseult. But you were so scathing, so intolerant of promiscuity, I was afraid…'
'You meant to tell me about Iseult!' he mocked. 'I suppose her father was beside the point?'
'No, of course not. I would have…'
'Don't add lies to it, Briony.' He moved threateningly towards her. 'I'll give you one thing. You never actually lied, did you, until now? You just led me to believe things that were untrue.'
'No! No!' She shook her curly head vehemently.
He snatched at one of the imploring hands held out to him. 'You don't even wear a ring.'
'I don't need to wear a…'
'No? I suppose that would have cramped your style?' He threw the hand from him as though its touch might taint him.
He was fully dressed now. She had to get through to him before he slammed out of her life. As he moved towards the door, she stood between him and the only means of exit, and raised her voice to a shout, a thing she rarely did.
'I am not married!' And, more quietly, when she saw that at last she had riveted his attention, she repeated, 'Teale, I don't wear a ring, because I'm not married.'
'Not married?' They were standing almost toe to toe as he stared down at her. The angry colour had drained from his face, though a nerve still twitched violently in his cheek. 'Not married?' He said it as though he didn't understand the words.
'No!' Her blue eyes met his frankly, steadily. 'Not even divorced. I've never been married, Teale.'
'But you do have a child?' He seemed dazed now, bewildered, as though his recent anger had fogged his brain. 'She asked for you by name, called you her mother.'
'Yes,' she lifted her chin defiantly, 'I have a child. Iseult is ten years old now. Her father was a fellow student at art college. I was only seventeen when… I would have told you, Teale. I intended to tell you today, before we… But then we…' She blushed furiously and, for the first time in their long confrontation, her lids fluttered down.
'Why on earth didn't you tell me all this before?' He ran a hand around the back of his neck, his fingers massaging tense muscles.
'I told you why, only you wouldn't listen! Because of what you said once about your views on morality. I thought if we got to know each other first, you'd realise I'm not promiscuous, that that was the one and only mistake of my life. I'm not proud of it but,' defiantly, 'I wouldn't be without Iseult now. I love her.' Now that there was no need to bar his way, Briony moved away from the door, feeling she must sit down soon, before her legs gave way under her.
'But she doesn't live with you?' Teale followed her, not touching, but close, his eyes still on her averted face.
'No. When I gave her up two years ago, Jean-Luc had more to offer her than I could. It's a long story, but…'
'But we have all the time in the world for you to tell me.' His voice was so gentle now, so incredibly tender that she swung around and looked at him in disbelief.
'You mean…?'
'I mean I'm sorry, my love.' He held out a hand but did not offer to touch her. 'Can you forgive me for my crass stupidity? I should have given you a chance to explain. But I just saw red. When I heard this child asking for you as her mother, mentioning her father in the same breath, I… Oh, God!' His shoulders sagged and he turned away. 'I thought I'd lost you—and just as I'd found you. Perhaps I have lost you now?'
'Then you're not shocked?' For the moment, Briony did not answer his implied question but continued to survey him doubtfully. 'About Iseult?' About…?'
'About something that happened when you were scarcely more than a child yourself?' He groaned. 'What an intolerant prig you must have thought me all these months.' He slumped on to the side of the bed and covered his face with his hand. 'How could you possibly love me?'
'I do,' she said softly.
His head jerked up and he looked at her with dawning hope in his dark eyes.
'Still? In spite of everything I've said in the last ten minutes? I wouldn't blame you if you hated me.'
'I love you, Teale,' she repeated and, determined to convince him, she continued, 'I felt something the very first moment we met. Every time I saw you, I loved you more. But you were so sure love didn't exist, so determined never to marry again. Oh, Teale,' she moved hesitantly towards him, unsure of his reaction, placing her hands on his shoulders, 'those few weeks when I didn't see you, when I first thought even our friendship must end, because I had to save myself from further hurt-it was agony.' In a low voice that trembled slightly with the remembrance of what she had suffered, she told him, 'I was going to leave Gwinvercombe, go right away, as far away from you as I could.'
His hands grasped her waist and he drew her between his knees. He parted his lips to speak, but she put a finger lightly on his mouth.
'Let me tell you the whole of it… one more thing. In the end, I couldn't have gone. I love you so much, Teale,' her voice throbbed, 'that, last night, even when you hadn't asked me to marry you, I was going to give myself to you. I was going to settle for whatever you were prepared to give me. Anything would have been better than never seeing you again.'
'Oh, my love,' his voice was husky. 'I don't deserve you. I don't deserve to be loved like that. But believe me when I tell you, I drove back from London intending to ask you to marry me. Though why you should believe me,' he was bitterly self-condemnatory now, 'when I refused to believe in you…'
Tenderly, Briony drew his head against her breast. 'I do believe you. From now on, we'll always believe in each other.'
He would have pulled her closer still, but she freed herself and walked briskly towards the door.
'Briony!' His voice was taut. 'Where are you going?'
Over her shoulder, she cast him a demure look.
'To take that dratted phone off the hook.'
When she returned he was waiting for her, his clothes in a careless heap beside the bed.
'Is this thing supposed to preserve your modesty?' he asked huskily as he slid the almost transparent robe from her shoulders. 'Because let me tell you it's very unsuccessful and it has the most extraordinary effect on me.' As he drew her hard up against him, she believed him.
Muffled endearments were murmured against the curly thickness of her hair as he lifted her on to the bed. He lay still for a while, just crushing her against him, as if there were a world of satisfaction in just holding her. After their recent total mental and physical separation, it was almost enough for her too. Almost, but not quite. She shifted restlessly, wantonly against him.
Gradually his mouth began to move over her face, its exploration culminating in the searing fire of his kiss. The movements of his hands were so tantalisingly slow that she moaned softly in protest. Her own hands were locked about his neck, but now she let them move over him, exploring, glorying in his naked body, in the feel of smooth, warm skin, touching him, urging him to be more adventurous in his caresses.
Shivers of desire coursed down her spine as he complied.
'I love you, Teale,' she whispered with aching longing. 'I love you.'
'And I love you!' His breath came in shaking gasps, and this awareness of his need intensified her own. She longed for him to take her.
'Then make love to me!' she begged.
He moved swiftly then, his body covering her. A long, muscular leg parted hers. His hands arched her hips into him, and with the firm thrust of his strong thighs she felt the force of his manhood, its primitive desires unleashed within her. Its urgent, throbbing rhythm invaded the most intimate, thrilling recesses of her body. She responded to him with pulsating eagerness, the crescendo building within her. She was oblivious now to everything but the approach of pleasure, to the pleasure she was giving him. Desire had erupted into passion, passion that enfolded them in hungry, mindless abandon. Together they soared, higher and higher, to shuddering ecstasy as their bodies pulsed in consummation, in mutual fulfilment.
She had no idea afterwards how long the sensations had engulfed th
em. She lay curled against his side, his arm under her neck, her body still molten with the fires of his love. She murmured his name, and Teale turned his head to look at her, his eyes two dark, burning coals.
'When I think of all the time I've wasted! But we won't waste another moment, will we, my love?'
'Not a second,' she agreed. She reached out and ran her fingers over the strong lineaments of his face, outlined the sensual mouth, traced the crooked bridge of his nose. 'I've often wondered,' she told him, 'how you broke your nose. Did somebody hit you?'
He grinned.
'Perhaps they should have done, frequently, over the head. I might have come to my senses sooner. No, it's much simpler than that. I used to play rugby in my mad youth. And, speaking of mad youth—' he rolled over to face her '—I feel more absurdly young than I have in years. Younger and,' teasingly, 'more virile!' His tone was teasing, but his eyes questioned her. Tentatively, he touched her, his lips following his hands. He kissed each breast, his lips burning. But he had no need to rekindle her desire. Eagerly, she arched to meet him.
His lovemaking this time was as powerful but less urgent, devoting more time to bringing her to even greater heights of physical delight.
Much later, Briony awoke. The room was dark, but the curtains were wide open, framing Teale against the moonlight. His ears must have been alert for the slightest sound, for as she stirred she saw him turn.
'Come here,' he said softly.
She slid from the bed and went to stand beside him, shivering slightly in the chill night air. He pointed beyond the window.
'Look at the sky,' he told her, his tone almost awed.
In the snow-filled sky, streaks of crimson flared fanlike, staining the sea to vermilion.
'If I painted a sky like that, no one would ever believe it!' Briony breathed.
'From now on,' Teale told her whimsically 'all our skies will be coloured red, the colour of love.' Then, 'Come back to bed, my love. You're cold…and,' throatily, 'the night isn't over yet.'
Colour the Sky Red Page 17