Loveknot

by Catherine George

  Suddenly there was a glare of lights and a braying wail of sirens as _two police cars careered past, shattering the night with noise and lighting up the darkness for a few intrusive moments that brought Sophie back to earth with a bump.

  Before she had time to push Alexander away he was upright and in his former place, breathing very audibly as Sophie gathered her scattered wits. She was suddenly very angry--with him, with herself, and, most of all, she realised, mortified, with the police cars for interrupting them. She shivered, and

  Alexander breathed in sharply.

  "I'm sorry, Sophie."

  Sophie was not pleased to receive an apology. For kissing me? “she demanded.

  "Good God, no! How could I be sorry for something that gave me more pleasure than I imagined possible?"

  This question found even less favour. Why should Alexander feel so surprised? Was it beyond the bounds of possibility that kissing Sophie

  Gordon could be such a pleasurable pastime?

  "What exactly are you sorry for, then?" she asked.

  Alexander recaptured her hand.

  "Because we were interrupted, because I gave in to the urge to make love to you in just about the most uncomfortable place possible, because, more than anything, I think, I've known you so long and so well and have never made love to you before."

  "Aren't you taking my part in all this rather for granted?"

  "Only in the light of your recent response, Sophie."

  Oh. "

  "Yes. Oh." Alexander's voice grew husky.

  "I never dreamed so much fire lay hidden behind that disciplined exterior of yours."

  Sophie's eyes widened.

  "Disciplined? Me?"

  Alexander squeezed her hand.

  "Yes. No one could live the sort of life you do without discipline, Sophie."

  "It doesn't come easy," she informed him drily. "Not even to paragons like me. I have to work hard at it."

  "I realise that. It's why the disciplined front is what most people accept, instead of the other Sophie tucked away behind it."

  "The one who yearns to escape!"

  Alexander's grip tightened.

  "Are you sure that a cottage overlooking the graveyard in Arlesford is the best means of escape, Sophie?"

  "It's the best offer I've ever had, believe me!"

  "You could always marry."

  Sophie sighed.

  "As I keep saying, ad nauseam, I, better than anyone, know. “what marriage means. No, thanks. "

  "But you're talking about the daily bread of domesticity, Sophie.

  Marriage could, and should, provide a lot of butter and jam

  "Alexander, if you mean what I think you mean, all I've ever lacked is an actual husband who, perfectly naturally, would expect to take me to bed and make love with me on top of all the rest." She shook her head fiercely.

  "No way."

  Alexander laughed.

  "So not only do you eschew the delights of domesticity, you're ready to dismiss the pleasures of the bed."

  "I won't miss something I've never had."

  The now familiar silence fell for a few moments, _then Alexander reached a hand to flick on the interior light so he could look hard at Sophie's face.

  She scowled at him crossly.

  "Turn the light off! I feel like a sitting duck."

  Afterwards the darkness seemed denser than before.

  "I wanted to see if you meant it, Sophie," he said quietly.

  "That I've never been to bed with anyone?" She chuckled.

  "But that's strictly between you and me, Alexander. I don't want it spread around. Think how my reputation would suffer!"

  "I'm surprised. And don't try telling me you're frigid, because I proved conclusively just now that you're not."

  "What's so surprising about it?" she asked defensively.

  "You said Delphine wouldn't let you into her bed."

  "But that's because she was holding out for a wedding ring. I'm not gullible enough to believe no one had shared her bed before."

  "Yet you still wanted her!"

  "Of course I did. I'm not antediluvian enough to expect a woman with

  Delphine's looks to be a virgin at her age. Nor," he added, 'to be frank, would I have expected it of you, either, Sophie. "

  Sophie thought this over, uncertain whether she was flattered or not.

  "Because I'm twenty-three, you mean?"

  He laughed softly.

  "No. Because you're a very beddable lady, whatever age you are."

  "Oh, come on!" she said scathingly.

  "Laying it on a bit thick, Alexander."

  "What do you mean?" The surprise in his voice was so genuine, Sophie squeezed the hand holding hers.

  "Put it this way. Remember I said you were superior? I have this little game I like to play, categorising people with a single adjective. You know yours. So my grandmother's is “autocratic", my father's “conscientious",

  Tim's “ambitious", the twins--being twins--share “exhausting", Kate's is

  'loving" --and so on. Am I boring you? "

  "Not in the least! I don't really relish my own label, but go on.

  What I want to know is how you describe yourself. "

  "My passport says it all, really. Hair brown, eyes brown, no distinguishing marks. In a word, " average"." Sophie paused.

  "Or maybe “ordinary", because certain of my statistics are rather more generous than average."

  Alexander's utter stillness made her shift uneasily in her seat.

  "So you're ordinary, are you?" he remarked very softly.

  "Yes. Depressingly so." ' "Wrong." He sounded so positive, Sophie fidgeted even more.

  "There's nothing ordinary about your eyes, for a start," he said, in a rather clinical manner. "They're big enough and bright enough, God knows, and they smile even when your mouth stays all prim and proper, when you're trying not to laugh. Your nose turns up a little, it's true, but only enough to look endearing, and your mouth----' He paused.

  "If I'm honest, it is a little on the wide side, Sophie, but it curves very temptingly, and now I give the matter thought, there's a fullness about the bottom lip----' “OK, Alexander," she said hastily, snatching her _hand away.

  "No need to go on and on."

  He recaptured her hand and slid his arm behind her.

  "I haven't finished yet."

  "Alexander' “Quiet," he said sternly.

  "I've only just started."

  Sophie wriggled frantically, but his arm tightened, keeping her still.

  "Alexander, it's time we went home."

  "In a moment. I would just like to rid your head of this “ordinary" nonsense." His voice roughened slightly.

  "For one thing, as you say, there are certain things about you that are well above average, take my word for it." And his hand released hers to move over the contours of her breasts, sliding over the thin wool of her shirt. He muttered indistinctly and brought his mouth down on hers. Sophie gasped, her breasts rising and hardening in response to the caress of his fingers. He took his arm from behind her, his mouth increasing its pressure so that her head fell back against the headrest as he dealt summarily with shirt buttons and the satin that lay beneath, pulling it down so that her breasts were pushed above it, bare and pointing, shamelessly offering themselves to hands that took loving possession of the silk-smooth fullness.

  Sophie gave a smothered cry, trying to push him away, but Alexander caught her hands and pulled them wide, bending his head to take one of the swollen peaks in his mouth. Her body flushed all over with heat as his teeth grazed and his lips closed over a nipple, sending waves of heat knifing through her.

  Just as she thought she could bear it no more, Alexander returned his mouth to hers, kissing her parted lips with such demand that Sophie was vanquished.

  When he raised his head at last, he said raggedly, "Never say ordinary again, my modest little sexpot. It quite definitely doesn't apply."

 
Sophie pulled herself together hastily and pushed him away, but her fingers trembled so much, Alexander was obliged to help button her shirt, his own hands gratifyingly shaky, she noticed.

  "If I'm not ordinary, what am I, then?" she couldn't resist asking.

  "If only one word is allowed, mine isn't an adjective."

  "Are you being rude?"

  He cleared his throat as he switched on the ignition, turning his head to look at her before he drove off.

  "No four-letter words, I assure you. The word that sprang to mind was " dynamite"."

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sophie was never enamoured of Monday at the best of times, but next morning she walked into Deansbury on leaden feet, deeply reluctant to face Alexander in the cold light of day. It was raining, and the pavements were treacherous with slick layers of fallen leaves as she trudged along her usual route to the market square, which was always fairly quiet at this time of day, with another half-hour to go before shops opened and the day got off to its real start. When she arrived at Paget & Sons Sophie put away her umbrella and hung up her wet raincoat, then fiddled with her hair and face until she could put off the evil hour no longer.

  The encounter was less trying than expected. Perry was with Alexander, telling him about the new girl he'd met at a party, his blue eyes glittering as he waved his hands about to emphasise the importance of the occurrence.

  "For God's sake, go away and channel your energies into some work.

  Dream up something spectacular to show the brewery for the new pub in Market

  Street," said Alexander, looking up with a smile as Sophie appeared.

  "Good morning, Sophie."

  "Good morning." Her smile included both men and Perry gave her his usual spectacular grin before going off to do his cousin's bidding.

  "It astonishes me that there are any girls left in the neighbour hood for

  Perry to discover," said Alexander, and pulled the day's consignment of post towards him, plainly bent on getting on with the day at top speed, to

  Sophie's gratitude. The weekend might never have happened, she thought with relief, and concentrated on Alexander's voice, much comforted by the matter-of-fact ness of his manner. Indeed, apart from the hour they spent together each morning, she saw very little of Alexander that day or the next, since he spent most of the time in Arlesford, organising the new branch office.

  "You won't forget the interviews today, will you?" she reminded him on the

  Wednesday morning.

  "The first is at eleven."

  Alexander studied her broodingly.

  "Can't wait to get away, can you?"

  "I merely want to get things settled," she said patiently.

  "I've promised I won't go until the new secretary knows the ropes.” You haven't changed,-your mind, then? “He dropped his eyes to the pen he was rolling between his fingers.

  Sophie backed away hurriedly.

  "No, I haven't." She returned to her own office quickly, uneasy at something in Alexander's voice, which was too reminiscent of Sunday's intimacy for her peace of mind.

  Sophie had made a careful selection of candidates for Alexander's approval.

  The first girl was very pretty, but Sophie knew at once she would never pass muster because she had a shrill voice and ultra-long scarlet fingernails.

  The second candidate was innocent of nail-polish, make-up, and any attempt

  _whatsoever to make herself attractive, however efficient she might have been, and Sophie mentally ticked her off the list as well.

  Alexander strode into Sophie's office a little later and leaned his hands on her desk.

  "Come and have lunch with me."

  "I've brought sandwiches."

  "Feed 'em to the birds." The dark-lashed eyes took on a cajoling look Sophie associated more with the engaging Perry than his senior partner.

  "Please, Sophie. Interviewing those women was a cold reminder that you'll soon be gone. Call it a working lunch if it makes you happier."

  Sophie wavered, then gave in.

  "All right. But I'll meet you in the George in twenty minutes or so. I must finish this report first."

  Alexander's smile conveyed such genuine pleasure, Sophie felt flattered. And she wanted to have lunch with Alexander, if she was honest. After he'd left, whistling, she acknowledged secretly that she'd enjoyed lunching with him the previous Saturday. Her fingers halted in their flight over the keys. This new, attentive Alexander was a difficult man to resist, she found, her stomach muscles tightening as she thought, not for the first time, of the episode in his car. She had enjoyed his lovemaking far more than she cared to admit, even to herself, and put her responses down to the fact that she was a normal, healthy female, and Alexander was a very attractive man. Any woman would have behaved similarly under the same circumstances.

  Even so, Sophie was in no way prepared for the surge of delight she experienced as she entered the bar _of the George a little later and saw

  Alexander spring to his feet at the sight of her. His wave and smile was noted and commented on by all present, she knew only too well, as she made her way through the usual lunch-time crush to join him on the far side of the room.

  Tell me the worst," she said, as she sipped the wine he had ready for her.

  "I suppose I can write a couple of polite rejections to this morning's candidates?"

  Alexander agreed gloomily.

  "You suppose right. I didn't bother to send them out for a test because I knew damn well I could never stand either of those two round me all day and every day."

  "Perhaps one of this afternoon's ladies will be suitable." Sophie gave him a mischievous smile.

  "I should have asked for photographs.

  You could have chosen the ones you fancied most. "

  Alexander refused to cheer up.

  "Whatever she looks like, your successor? will have a hard act to follow."

  Sophie felt startled. Why, thank you, Alexander. How kind of you to say so.

  "It's the truth." Alexander looked up to meet her eyes.

  "I shall miss you badly, Sophie. Won't you change your mind?"

  "Is that why you asked me to lunch? To persuade me?" Sophie's tone was cold, to hide her sudden urge to give in and tell him she'd stay.

  "No. I just wanted your company. Is that so hard to believe?"

  Sophie wanted to believe. It was disquieting to find she wanted to believe everything Alexander said these days, not least the previous Sunday when he'd disagreed so gratifyingly with her own view of herself as Miss Ordinary.

  "Sorry, Alexander. I didn't mean to be prickly."

  His smile brought the colour to her face.

  "The most fragrant roses sport the sharpest thorns, don't they? You're blushing, Sophie," he added.

  "Is it any wonder?" she snapped, glad of the diversion as plates were set before them, and Alexander began to talk shop. For the remainder of their time together they discussed the new branch office, his ideas on furnishing

  Willow Reach, with a few minutes spent, inevitably, on discussing Ilex

  Cottage and how soon it would be fit for occupation.

  "Not that I need wait for that before I move to Arlesford," she said.

  "I can always live at Greenacre if Mr. Jefford wants me sooner."

  "Jefford can wait until I can do without you," said Alexander flatly.

  Sophie frowned.