Carver's Bride

by Nicola West

  Tears blended with the rain that streaked her face. Her meanderings were now completely aimless. Once or twice she wondered why she carried on, why she didn't just sink down in the heather and wait for whatever came. But she never did. Something drove her on; some faint glimmer of hope that she might somehow find another track, a track that would lead her to safety, to somewhere dry and warm.

  But when her feet finally did find a track, she didn't believe it—didn't even realise it for the first few seconds, as she stumbled along its rocky way. Then it slowly dawned on her that she was no longer ploughing through heather and, hardly able to believe her good fortune, she switched on the torch.

  It was a track, all right. A good, broad track, well used by the look of it. She had no idea which direction to take—it undulated along the contour of the hill, and she wasn't sure which way led upwards. But it was a track, that was the main thing, perhaps one of the old drovers' roads. Whichever way she went, it would surely take her somewhere.

  Going very carefully, determined not to lose her way again, Linzi picked her way along the path. It seemed to be leading her along a steep little valley; she could hear the rushing of a swollen stream below. Cautiously, she allowed herself to switch on the torch every few minutes to make sure that she hadn't strayed again. And after what seemed to be an interminable time, she found herself approaching something large, something that loomed ahead, black and sinister against the swirling fog, shining in the rain that poured down its sheer face.

  Linzi stopped, half afraid. Was it a cliff—and would the track lead her safely over it, or did it go round in some way? She groped forward, then switched, on the torch again, irrationally afraid of this huge obstacle. And then, as the dim light played over the grey stone, she gave a gasp of relief. It wasn't a cliff—it was a building! Derelict, for certain, but even so it might offer some kind of shelter.

  She went forward and laid her hand against its bulk. It felt almost warm, friendly in this alien landscape. Keeping her hand against the wall, she crept round it.

  But it didn't seem to be derelict. It was solid, without a crumbling stone in it. It led her round two corners without a break—and then she found the door—a good, solid door. And, to her infinite relief and joy, it moved under her touch, and she pushed it open.

  Her heart hammering, Linzi stepped inside. For a moment, the relief of being out of the storm was enough. She leaned against the wall, revelling in dry air, in stillness accentuated by the raging of the wind outside, in comparative warmth.

  But where was she? The place didn't appear to be occupied. No one had come to find out who was entering their house in the middle of the night. And who would be living up here anyway, so far from a road? Puzzled, Linzi switched on the torch again.

  She seemed to be in a huge room. It was totally different from the small room she had expected, and she felt a leap of fear as the dim beam flickered up into the high roof. Then, as she looked around the walls, seeing the bookshelves, the armchairs and benches, the matting that covered the floor, it dawned on her at last where she was, and she gave a huge sigh of thankfulness, and her legs, so weary from their interminable stumbling through the heather, sagged so that she sank down on the matting and leaned her head against the wall.

  She was in the chapel. The chapel Jason had taken her to that afternoon when they had walked together on the hills. The chapel where he had first begun to make love to her—where Ceri had interrupted them.

  Linzi had no idea how long she rested there. But as the first intense weariness passed, she began to think again. She couldn't stay here on the floor, soaked and shivering, and now there was no need to. The chapel was well stocked with portable gas-lamps, and there was a gas cooker and two or three room heaters as well. There was probably even food, though she thought she was too exhausted to eat much. All she really wanted to do was get herself dry and warm and into that thickly-curtained bed at the other end of the chapel.

  The torch lasted just long enough for her to find and light a lamp. By its steadier glow she was able to light one of the heaters, and then, grateful for its rapid warmth, she stripped off her soaked clothes, hanging them over chairs in the hope that they might dry a little by morning.

  She couldn't find any towels, but the bed was covered with a ruby red candlewick bedspread. She wrapped herself in that and hugged herself dry in front of the heater. Then, totally worn out by her adventure, she crawled under the remaining bedclothes, sank thankfully into the soft warmth of the mattress, and fell fast asleep.

  It was several hours later when Linzi woke. She had turned out the lamp when she got into bed, but the heater still gave off a comforting glow. She lay still, slowly remembering where she was and why. And now that the first shattering fatigue had gone, she felt again the sharp pain of loss. Tomorrow she would have to find her way back to her car, get help to get it back to the road, and then drive back to her lonely life in London. A sense of despair washed over her and, turning her face aside, she began to weep.

  The tears were already soaking her pillow when she heard a sound. She was instantly alert. Was that what had woken her? She strained her ears and it came again— a sound of moving stones, a slithering noise, as if someone was blundering along the track outside just as she had done herself. And, as well as that, she could hear something else—a strange, animal snuffling.

  A prickle of fear crawled along Linzi's spine. What could it be? Sheep didn't make that noise. Was it a pony? She'd seen them on the mountains, little Welsh ponies with delicate Arab faces and sturdy bodies. But a pony would make more noise than that, surely. And as she listened she heard a distinctly human voice. She sat up, her heart beating rapidly—and saw the door begin to open. ...

  'So this is where you are!' The voice was rough and male and overjoyingly familiar. Linzi flung herself from the bed and across the room. She wasn't even aware that she was completely naked. She just wanted to be in his arms, safe at last.

  'Jason—oh, Jason!'

  'Linzi!' She was enfolded in his embrace, held tightly against the wet sheepskin coat he was wearing. It was cold against her warm skin, but she didn't care. Sobbing with relief, she lifted her face and Jason immediately bent his mouth to hers.

  'Linzi, thank God you're all right! I thought I'd never find you—I thought—oh, hell, I don't want to tell you what I thought!'

  'I know.' She unbuttoned his coat and snuggled inside it, pressing herself against his warmth. 'Jason, it was awful. I didn't know where I was, I ‑'

  His hands moved over her body and she felt him realise her nakedness. With a muttered oath, he lifted her and carried her back to the bed, laying her in it with infinite gentleness. But Linzi would not allow him to move away. She kept her arms linked round his neck, holding him close. 'Come in with me, Jason,' she whispered, and heard his quick breath.

  'Wait ‑' The word was torn from him as he gazed down at her with naked longing in his eyes, 'Bracken—he brought me here. I must dry him off ‑'

  'Bracken!' Linzi sat up as Jason went over to the door. The great dog was lying just inside, his coat streaming with water, and she felt a pang of remorse that she hadn't even noticed him. She watched as Jason went to a cupboard and brought out an old towel that she hadn't found in her search. Then, as he began to rub the dog dry, she scrambled from the bed, wrapped a rug round her, and went to the stove.

  'You must be cold too, Jason. I'll make us both a drink.' Love could wait a while, she told herself, and felt a warm security spread through her at the thought.

  She made coffee with dried milk. The smell reminded her that she was hungry, and she foraged among the cupboards to see what provisions there were. By the time Jason had finished with Bracken, she had opened and mixed a tin of chicken soup with a can of beans and another of sausages. The resulting stew, served in bowls, with cracker biscuits from a packet, was unexpectedly appetising.

  Jason came over to her side and watched as she ladled it out. Then he took her in his arms and nuzzled her
hair.

  'That looks marvellous,' he murmured, 'but isn't it a little too hot to eat straightaway?' And he bit gently at the lobes of her ears.

  Linzi rested against him. The fire was already spreading along her limbs, but this time the urgency had gone. She wanted to enjoy her longing, savour the delights as well as the pains of frustration. She was aware that up here in the chapel, with the storm raging even more fiercely than before, there was little chance of further interruption. They still had the whole night before them, and if they never had anything else it was going to be a night to remember for the rest of their lives. To hurry it would be a crime.

  'Why don't you take off some of these wet clothes?' she murmured, letting her fingers stray up his chest, unbuttoning as they went. 'The bed's nice and warm ... we can eat our supper there, and then ‑'

  'Then?' he teased, capturing her hand in his and holding it to his lips.

  'Then we can talk,' she said demurely. 'Unless you can think of anything else?'

  'I just might, at that,' he muttered huskily. 'Linzi, you're doing it again . . . driving me wild ... I don't know how much you think I can take. . . .'

  'Not too much more, I hope,' she whispered, and felt his heart leap as she moved in closer and turned her face up for his kiss. 'But first, let's have this food. We're going to need our strength. . . .'

  Jason uttered one muffled sound as he gripped her close against him, his hands seeking her softness under the rug she had wound round herself. Then she twisted away, picking up the bowls and carrying them over to the bed. She let the rug fall and slipped under the covers, then looked over at Jason and gasped involuntarily. He had slipped out of all his clothes and stood, magnificently naked, in the soft glow of the lamp, and she knew that it was as if the weeks between this moment and their first encounter here had never been. What had been started then was now about to be finished; it was as inevitable as the coming of morning.

  Close together in the bed, they ate the stew and drank the coffee. The warmth of the food spread itself through Linzi's body, comforting and relaxing her. When she had finished, she laid the bowl and the mug aside and turned to him, her body soft and yielding against him, her eyes large and dark in her glowing face.

  'Jason,' she murmured softly, and slid her supple arms round him, drawing him close to her. She felt his hands on her shoulders, pressing her back on to the mattress, and then they moved down to cup her breasts as his eyes, almost black in the soft light, met hers and she knew that at last there were no secrets between them.

  She put up her hands and let her fingers wander over his face, tracing the lines that had become etched there, recalling the contours that had always been so dear to her. Long nights in Paris, Rome and New York came back to her; nights spent alone but haunted by the memory of this face, the unbearable yearning to feel these arms around her. The finely-chiselled mouth was unsmiling, but its grimness had disappeared and its gravity came now from desire. Impulsively, she raised herself to kiss it; and with their lips pressed together, their mouths speaking in an older language than words, they fell back on to the mattress, each drawing comfort and reassurance from the intimate contact of their bodies; a comfort whose warmth was soon fanned into the white heat of desire.

  A soaring joy swept through Linzi as Jason's body covered hers. She revelled in the length of it, the hardness of his thighs against hers, the massive breadth of his chest crushing her breasts. The rough hairiness of his body delighted her and she rubbed herself against him, closing her eyes in the joy of her own sensuality. Unable to get close enough, she arched her body towards his, and he gripped her close, his legs twining with hers, his hands exploring every inch and teasing her into little cries of passionate longing.

  Sinuously, he lifted himself from her for the exquisite rapture of thrusting himself against her again. Linzi felt an unexpected strength and energy flow through her limbs as she responded eagerly to his caresses. Until now, she had always imagined herself passive in this final joyous embrace; instead, she was reacting with a fervour that astonished her and brought a groan of pleasure from Jason's lips.

  And then there was no more waiting, no more frustration. Linzi felt a stab of joy and then a pulsing ecstasy that seemed likely to wrench her apart. Her body moved of its own volition, and as she clung to Jason it seemed that she was no longer in the bed, but somewhere else, floating, flying, soaring in some bodiless world where nothing else mattered, where only she and Jason existed, fused in their love, and where nothing, nothing could ever interfere with this incredible, exhilarating enchantment.

  And then, when she thought she could bear no more, it was over. Slowly, gently, she floated back to earth; back to the high bed in the solid little chapel in the mountains. Back to Jason's arms and the warm security of his love. A contentment such as she had never known flooded softly through her limbs, and she opened her eyes to stare bemusedly up at his face.

  'Oh, Linzi,' Jason murmured huskily. 'If that never happens to me again, I won't complain, because it must have been perfection. But—' his arms tightened around her '—I hope, oh God, I hope it does happen again!'

  'Jason, I love you,' Linzi whispered, half aware that she had cried this out aloud only moments—or a lifetime—before.

  'And I love you too.' His finger stroked her cheek and his eyes grew sombre. 'Linzi, why, did you do it? Run out on me like that, yet again? Because of those pictures?'

  She closed her eyes in sudden pain. 'I thought—I thought you'd never want to see me again. They were fakes, Jason—I didn't know they were going to use them that way, the poses I did were perfectly innocent--but I had no way of proving that. I didn't think you'd ever believe it.'

  'Oh, my darling!' He buried his face in her hair. 'Did you really think I'd believe that of you? Linzi, I've worked with you, I've seen you as a professional, I know you would never do that. Even if I hadn't loved you, I'd have known that.'

  She let out a sigh. 'But Ceri—Selwyn—'

  'I know all about Ceri and Selwyn and their nasty little game.' His face was grim again. 'After I found you'd gone I taxed Ceri with it and got the whole story out of her. My God, how she deceived me, the little bitch! But I think she's got the message now. She won't be coming to Bron Melyn again.'

  'Did—did she know they were fakes?'

  'She did, though she wouldn't admit it. She knew she'd lost me, but she couldn't stand the thought that I might really love you.' His burning eyes searched her face. 'I don't know how to explain to you about Ceri. It was you all the time—all those years—but there were times when I thought you'd never come back, times when I was weak and craved some kind of love, even though I knew it was only second-class. I suppose I used Ceri in a way—but I knew she never really loved me, I knew that it was only self-gratification for her too, and I used that as my excuse.'

  'Don't worry about it,' Linzi murmured, her hands moving slowly over his muscular back. 'It doesn't matter now—nothing matters now.' He lowered his lips to hers and, after a few minutes, she asked tentatively: 'What made you decide to use me as your model, Jason? Was it really because of the sculpture, or ‑'

  He smiled at that. 'Yes, it was because of the sculpture—I knew as soon as I got the commission that here was my chance to do a figure I'd wanted to do for years— a figure symbolic of sun and freedom and grace, a figure that had been modelled on you in my head ever since I first conceived it. I had to have you for that—and it gave me my chance to bring you back into my life. I told you I kept tabs on you all those years, didn't I? I knew that the day would come when we'd have to come together again. I let you go five years ago—oh, because I was bitterly hurt, because I was angry too, but also because I did dimly understand why you went. And because I loved you, I let you go, to find your own way, to grow up. But I always intended that you should come back, though I didn't know how. And then two things happened. I got the commission—and I heard about your engagement.' He ran an urgent hand down her body and she shuddered with longing. 'I co
uldn't let things go any further, Linzi. 1 had to see you again—had to persuade you somehow that I was your man.' He grinned ruefully. 'I didn't make a very good job of it, did I?'

  'Oh, you did,' Linzi assured him. 'I was in turmoil from the very first day. . . . But I'm glad you did it, Jason.'

  'Are you?' His lips took hers again and his hands moved more tensely over her skin. 'And now? You will marry me this time, won't you, Linzi, my sweet? No more running out on me? You promise?'

  'I promise,' she said steadily, but he still wasn't satisfied.

  'I think I'll lock you up until our wedding day,' he muttered. 'Lock you up and set Bracken to guard you. . . . Do you know, he brought me here to you tonight? I tried to follow you through all those lanes, and I'd almost given up hope when I noticed fresh tracks in the mud and realised you'd gone up into the hills. And when we found your car—I nearly went mad, Linzi, imagining all kinds of things. But Bracken never wavered. He took me up and down paths, through the heather, sometimes going in circles, sometimes apparently going nowhere, but he never gave up. And in the end he brought me here.'

  'Dear Bracken,' Linzi said softly. 'We'll take him on our honeymoon with us.'

  'Honeymoon?' Jason exclaimed in mock horror. 'Honeymoon? And what makes you think we're going on honeymoon? We've got work to do, woman—I've still got that figure to finish!' He drew her to him again and enfolded her in his arms. 'We'll go away after that, I promise you, wherever you like. But I can tell you this, Linzi, my dear, sweet love—our life is going to be one long honeymoon. And after waiting five years, I don't think that will be any more than we deserve!'

  And as she welcomed his love again, Linzi saw the first grey spears of dawn creep into the high, narrow windows, and she knew that what he said was true. And all the cares and unhappiness of the past five years were shed as they made love with a sweet, rapturous abandon that transcended anything that had gone before.