by Liz Fielding
She found Polly, kissed her. Stood in the doorway waving her off with Amy and the boys. Tempted to just keep walking herself. Go home. Forget all about her determination to stop running.
Easy to say, but she knew, just knew that all eyes would be on her as she made her way across the hall to where Dominic was sitting with Jake, the Hilliards, the vicar. Everyone would know what was burning a hole in her pocket.
“Scarlet Woman” would be branded across her forehead…
‘I thought you were leaving without me.’
She spun around and discovered that she didn’t have to make that long, exposed walk across the village hall. That Dominic was at her side.
‘No…’ she said. ‘I wasn’t planning to desert you. I was just waving Polly goodbye. She’s sleeping over with the Hallams. She and Mark are best pals. It’s understandable. She spent her first year in the same nursery as him.’ Then, ‘Have you had enough?’
‘I’ve had enough of talking. I thought you’d never take off that wretched apron so that I could ask you to dance with me.’
‘Dance?’ She hadn’t expected him to want to dance. It seemed a rather public display for such a private man. ‘You don’t have to. Really.’
‘Are you turning me down, Katherine?’
She looked beyond him into the hall. The music, which had been a lively toe-tapping mixture to keep the youngsters happy, had suddenly become slower, smoochier. People were dancing up close and she thought about him holding her like that. The touch of his shirt against her cheek, the feel of his hard body against hers. Thought about how she’d been running all her life. And how good it would be to stop, come to rest in his arms.
‘No, it’s just…’
‘Just?’
Feeling foolish, she said, ‘I’ve never actually done this. Danced like this with a man.’
‘Are all the men in Upper Haughton blind?’
She blushed. ‘I’m usually in the kitchen most of the time. And then I have to get home for Polly. I think someone must have messed up with the rota…’ And Amy had taken Polly home.
His smile was a curious mixture of pleasure and regret. ‘Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve done this, too, so we’ll just have to help each other out. You put your hand here.’ He took her hand, lifted it to his shoulder, held it there for a moment, only letting go when he was certain she’d leave it there. ‘And if memory serves me, I put my hand here.’ His palm nestled at her waist, his fingertips brushing lightly against her spine. She shivered. ‘Have I got it right so far?’
‘It, um, feels right.’ The words came out as little more than a mumble through lips that no longer seemed to be under her control.
Then, ‘It helps if you get a little closer.’
She blinked, made an effort to concentrate on what he was saying, rather than how good his mouth looked saying it, and moved an inch or two nearer to him.
‘Closer,’ he said, not moving, but leaving her to make the move. She managed another inch. There was still clear space between them, but even so it felt like sin.
‘I didn’t realise people still danced like this.’
‘Anything else is just exercise to music,’ he said, taking her hand in his, tucking it up against his chest. ‘Now we move.’ Since they were standing in the doorway, Kay moved forward, in the direction of the dance floor. Dominic stayed where he was and the space between them no longer existed. ‘I’m the man,’ he said, as if she hadn’t noticed, ‘I decide which way.’ And, moving his hand from the curve to her waist, to the hollow of her back, locking them together, he eased her out of the hall and onto the paved terrace where they were on their own. ‘It’s less crowded out here,’ he said.
It sounded reasonable…
The music was something slow and romantic, and under the deepening twilight he continued to hold her close, moulding his body to hers as they moved, very slowly, in time to the music, for a while saying nothing.
‘Katherine…’ He stopped and she looked up. ‘The pie was great.’
‘Thank you.’
And this time, when he moved again, she lowered her cheek to his shoulder.
The music became fainter. It was grass beneath their feet now instead of concrete.
‘The vicar asked me to give a talk to the Mothers’ Union on famine relief. When I gave him the donation I promised.’
She smiled into his shirt. ‘You could probably buy him off with a bigger cheque.’
He stopped again, looked down at her. ‘No!’
It was darker away from the lights of the hall and his expression more difficult to read. But he sounded amused.
‘Really. It’s a well-known ruse. I should have warned you. He has no shame.’
And this time when he gathered her up she seemed to melt against him. ‘I’m glad you talked me into coming,’ he said.
‘I didn’t talk you into anything.’
‘No… Katherine…’ This time when she looked up he said nothing, just looked at her for what seemed like an age, before he said it again. ‘Katherine.’
‘Yes?’
‘Nothing. I just like saying it.’
And then the softest brush of his lips left hers tingling in response.
‘Katherine…’
‘Yes.’ The word was just a ragged breath and he kissed her again with the same gentle touch but this time it seemed to vibrate through her, leaving her boneless, so that her entire body, soft and weightless, stilled; waiting for something more.
And as if he knew he let go of her hand and cradled her head, his thumb against her jaw, his fingers sliding through her hair as he tilted her head back, and this time the kiss, still infinitely gentle—framing questions; inviting rather than demanding answers—took her somewhere else. His tongue tasted her lower lip, his teeth tugged at it and heat began to seep through her, so that she longed to be touched, caressed.
And ‘more’ wasn’t enough. Kay wanted it all and with a tiny mewl her lips parted and the silken touch of his tongue sent a flashing signal to everything that was female in her, everything she’d suppressed for so long.
This wasn’t the curiosity of youth, the surrender to flattery that had been her downfall. This was something else. Something she’d read about but never dreamed was real.
And she finally understood the aching, driving need of a desire so strong that normally sane, intelligent women would risk everything for fulfilment. Risk everything to fully know a man capable of touching her heart.
‘I’ve been waiting for this moment all evening,’ he murmured as his lips brushed against her ear, her throat.
And she said, ‘I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life.’
CHAPTER TEN
“Bring hither the pink and purple columbine,
With gillyflowers:
Bring coronation, and sops in wine,
Worn of paramours.
Strew me the ground with daffadowndillies,
And cowslips, and kingcups, and loved lillies.”
Edmund Spenser
KAY WOKE in the big bed under the high-pointed eaves of her cottage. It was early, the sky was still pink from a dawn that suggested the weather was on the change and the long Indian summer was finally surrendering to the first blasts of autumn that were rattling at the windows. It felt like an omen and she shivered.
‘Cold?’
She turned to find Dominic propped up on his elbow watching her and self-consciously plucked at the cover, pulling it up to her neck. ‘No…’
‘Sorry?’
‘No.’ She forgot the weather, her foolish fears. ‘How could I be sorry?’ She forgot her shyness, reached up and cradled his cheek in the palm of her hand. It was cold. How long had he been lying that way, watching her sleep? ‘You just took my breath away, that’s all. I’ve never done anything like this before.’ Then, ‘Well, obviously I’ve done something like this…’ She shook her head. ‘No, I was right the first time. It was nothing like this.’ She hadn’t slept with Alexande
r. Or woken with him watching her as if afraid she might disappear in a puff of smoke if he took his eyes off her for one moment. There had been no feeling. No joy. No sense afterwards that the world had changed. Even though, for her, nothing would ever be the same again. ‘He didn’t make love to me, with me…’
He stopped her mouth with a kiss. His lips were cold, too. Cold and sweet.
‘Did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?’ he murmured as they moved from her mouth to the hollow of her throat.
‘No…’ Then, ‘Well, not lately. I only talk too much when I’m nervous…’
‘Do I make you nervous?’ On the point of denying it, as he trailed his fingers over her breast she squeaked, catching her lip between her teeth. He grinned. ‘That nervous?’
‘Nnnn,’ she said, through a mouth that seemed, suddenly, incapable of coherent utterance as his hand moved slowly over her stomach. ‘It’s c-cold…’ she finally managed. ‘Your hand.’
‘Liar. This is the cold one,’ and she shrieked as he seized her legs and jerked away the pillow in one easy movement so that she was lying flat. ‘Have you any idea what I’ve been through since the first moment I set eyes on you?’ She shook her head. ‘I haven’t wanted to make love to a woman for so long that I thought I’d forgotten how.’
‘I promise you,’ she said, ‘you haven’t forgotten a thing.’
‘No. I saw you, Katherine Lovell, trespassing in my garden and it all came back to me in a rush. An instant cure.’ And this time, when he touched her, using his mouth to make a slow traverse of her body, taking the longest possible route until he reached his destination, the only sound she made was a ragged intake of breath. It seemed like forever before she breathed out again on a long sigh.
‘I’ve met someone, Sara.’ Dominic stood quietly in the bedroom that they had shared, talking to the photograph in the silver frame beside the bed. Around him the cupboards and wardrobes stood open as if her belongings would make her presence stronger.
But the scent that he’d imagined clinging to her clothes had gone. Against the brightly polished surfaces, they all just looked tired. Old. As if she’d finally abandoned them. Didn’t need them any more.
He picked up the photograph. ‘I’ll never forget you, my love. Well, you know that, I’ve told you often enough. But meeting Katherine has shown me that to remember you I don’t have to block out everything else. I’ve fallen in love with her, but you’re still a part of me. Always will be. If I had died, I wouldn’t have wanted you to be alone. Never to be loved again. Never to have children.’
He paused, as if waiting for an answer. Instead, there was just the thump of the gate as Katherine arrived for work.
He looked up, smiling as he saw her framed in the gateway. Filled with joy to see her there. Eager to go and join her. There was just one thing left to do…
‘She’s like you in so many ways,’ he said. ‘She has your courage, your honesty, your directness.’ He discovered that he was smiling. ‘She makes the most terrible jokes, Sara. Makes me laugh. I thought I’d forgotten how to. She made me want to cry, too, when I didn’t think I had any tears left to shed. She’s reminded me who I am. She appeared out of the morning mist and gave me the kiss of life.’ He traced the soft sweep of her hair with the tip of his finger. ‘She doesn’t have your style, of course. Your polish. Your self-confidence. She wears the most terrible clothes, says the first thing that comes into her head without a thought for how it sounds until it’s too late. The real mystery is how I could ever have mistaken her for you…’ Then, ‘Oh, I see. I do see. Thank you, my darling angel…’
Dominic had discreetly taken his leave before the village would be up and about, before Polly came home, but he’d returned for lunch. Stayed for tea. Allowed Polly to monopolise him while she’d cleared up. Then he’d gone home, leaving with nothing more than a kiss to her cheek and an, “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
Because he hadn’t expected to stay, hadn’t pushed to stay or gone in for a heavy goodnight kiss with Polly in the next room, she’d felt cherished. Knowing that he’d wanted her for her company as well as for a good time in bed. She smiled to herself. It had been a really good time. Night and day.
He’d called before bedtime to wish her goodnight so that she’d known she was in his thoughts. And called again early the following morning before the mad rush to get Polly off to school, just to say hello.
She hadn’t been able to get the smile off her face all morning. But now, when she was going to see him, she was suddenly nervous again. How did you talk to each other when you were lovers? How was she going to deal with the fact that she worked for him? She had no experience—
The pile of wood heaped up in the kitchen garden drove all such worries from her head. The same shiver that had rippled through her when she’d woken and realised summer had turned to autumn overnight goosed her flesh with a sense of foreboding.
She’d been encouraging Dominic to clear out Sara’s belongings—and Dorothy had offered to do it for him, she knew—but he’d resisted. Turned a deaf ear. To choose to do it now, so soon after they’d spent the night together, well, it just seemed wrong somehow. As if he was doing it for her, instead of because it seemed…well…right.
Not that there was any sign of him. Somehow she’d expected to find him in the garden, doing something, anything, making an excuse to be there when she arrived. Maybe this was an excuse not to be…
She forced herself to start work. Told herself that he was probably just going to burn papers. Buried her disquiet in the patient removal of a particularly stubborn clump of dock weed that had got a hold—
‘Hi there.’
She was on her knees, digging carefully down to get out the whole of the tap root. Her trowel sliced through it.
‘Dammit, you made me jump!’
‘That’s not difficult.’ She looked up. ‘There’s this one spot that I just have to touch…’ She realised that he was grinning and she blushed. ‘Ah, I see that you remember.’
‘How could I ever forget?’ She’d waited a lifetime. It had been worth every minute…
‘I thought you’d come and say hello before you started work,’ he said.
‘There’s a lot to do and I didn’t want to disturb you. If you were busy.’
‘Too late to worry about that. The disturbance is terminal… Can you bear to leave the weeds for a while? Give me a hand.’
‘Oh, sure…’ But as she stood up she saw the box he was carrying, the tell-tale trail of black silk hanging over the edge. Definitely not papers.
‘I’m taking your advice, you see.’
‘Yes.’ Then, ‘Are you sure you want to do this now, Dominic?’
‘They’re just old clothes, Katherine. How can I ask you to take me seriously, marry me, move in here if Sara’s things are everywhere? If I’m still clinging to the past?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Can you bring the rake?’
“…marry me…”?
She couldn’t have heard that right. They barely knew one another. Marriage was out of the question. She was still coming to terms with the fact that she’d fallen into bed with him. She didn’t do that.
But then neither did he…
She climbed down out of the border, followed him with the rake, watched as he hunkered down to stuff some dry paper beneath the wood, set fire to it, watch it until he was sure it had caught.
She wouldn’t say a word, she decided, not one word, unless he brought up the subject again. At which point she’d…she’d…
She’d think of something. In the unlikely event that it happened. It was, after all, total madness.
‘Will you watch the fire while I go and fetch another box?’
‘Of course.’
As the flames grew, fanned by the chilly wind, she piled on some more wood. She wanted the fire hot so that the clothes didn’t just lie there and smoulder and, in the end, it wasn’t so bad. Once or twice she saw Dominic stop, look at a dress or a pair of sh
oes for a moment before consigning them to the flames, but it was only when he opened the last small box that he faltered.
She crouched down beside him. ‘Dominic? What is it?’
He gave a long shuddering sigh and she looked down, saw the soft white teddy bear. ‘She was pregnant. Sara was pregnant when she died.’ He picked up the little bear. ‘She was furious with me for buying this. Said it was unlucky. Tempting fate…’
‘No.’ Then again, ‘No. Life isn’t like that. Sometimes it just seems that way…’ As he added the bear to the funeral pyre, he stood up. Kay felt the lump swell in her throat as it was consumed by the flames and she reached out for his hand, held it tight.
‘I wanted to shout the news from the top of the church tower, but she made me promise not to tell anyone until the first three months were safely over. Then, afterwards, there seemed no point. Her family were grieving enough. How could I burden them with more sorrow?’
‘Of course you couldn’t. Of course not.’ And as he turned to her, she held him and they both shed a few tears.
Dominic for the cruelty of fate.
Katherine because she was remembering that first time they’d met. When he’d mistaken her for Sara. The urgent way he’d asked about Polly. Wanting to know who she was.
Ghosts, she thought. He’d been seeing ghosts.
She’d been fooling herself. He hadn’t got over anything. He’d simply substituted her and Polly for the family he’d lost.
Dominic Ravenscar had been ensnared by a phantom image, a place-holder for his dead wife, their unborn baby, and she had been too busy being swept off her feet by a dark stranger walking out of the morning mist and putting her hormones in a spin with a kiss to notice.
That was why he could burn Sara’s things now. He didn’t need them as a prop any more. He thought he had the real thing.
She’d only wanted to help, but the road to hell was paved with good intentions and all she’d done with her stupid meddling had been to make things worse. Much worse.
The little alarm clock in her pocket trilled its warning and gratefully she seized her chance to escape. To think… ‘I have to go, Dominic.’