A Summer Storm

by Robyn Donald

  He came down, that violent, devouring look on his face, but he was gentle even though his hands shook With the restraint he was imposing on himself, a restraint that made her angry in a vague way. Lost in the sensual daze she had fought so long, surrendering at last to the passion she had feared and avoided, she wanted him to feel the same release and freedom from constraint.

  ‘Something she had read in some magazine came to mind; with shy, untutored eagerness she began to copy what he was doing, her hands stroking over the magnificent body, finding the pleasure zones that made him groan deeply. His skin was smooth and warm and slightly damp, like magnificent living silk beneath her fingers, and she gloried in the shift and play of the muscles as he moved beside her.

  All that power, she thought hazily as his mouth searched out the narrow indentation of her waist, the delicate hollow in the cradle of her hips, and yet when she touched him, when her mouth sought the hidden textures and tastes of him, he shuddered, completely at the mercy of the forces that’ linked them in this duet of passion.

  ‘But soon that kind of sensual play was not enough. His hand stroked slowly, leisurely across her flat stomach, down the silken length of her thighs, and moved, closer and closer to the aching centre of her body. She held her breath, unable to control the involuntary thrust of her hips against that maddening, unfulfilling pressure.

  ‘Wait,’ he breathed. ‘Ah, yes, Oriel, you want me…’

  A streak of pure sensation ran through her. Taken by surprise, she arched and shuddered, biting her lips to hold back the cry wrenched from deep inside her.

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘don’t hide, don’t keep it back. This is only true, it only means something, when we are honest and open, hiding nothing. Look, you can make me tremble, the touch of your hands can drive every thought from my mind but the need to take you. Don’t hide from me, darling. I love you, I’ll never abuse your trust.’

  Shaken at the deep emotion in his words, she whispered like a vow, ‘And I’ll never abuse your trust, I swear. I love you-’ A splintered cry broke from her lips. Helplessly her body arched again.

  He made a low, feral sound, his eyes slits of molten silver as he moved over her. For a moment she held her breath. It was too late now to go back, instinct and passion had at last slipped the leash of that cool, clever brain. Sweat glistened on his big body, the muscles corded as he fought for control. Suddenly all her fears vanished. She smiled at him, love and trust combining with the smoky fumes of desire in a great sense of anticipation and welcome. His name shaped her lips, and eagerly she helped guide him as he took possession of all that she offered him.

  For a moment he hesitated, his expression almost anguished. ‘Oriel,’ he groaned, ‘I might hurt-’

  ‘Darling, my love, my heart, please! Please, Blaize...’

  She didn’t know what she was pleading for, but he did, and after the slow, initial thrust that joined them he dragged air into his lungs, gritted his teeth and held her for long moments locked in his iron-bound grip while he fought for control again.

  Oriel was transfixed, her body pierced with the sweet torment he had invoked, sensation racing through her in a tide as smooth as honey, as fierce as fire. She had expected pain, but there was none, merely a feeling of completion that still didn’t satisfy her urgent, eager need.

  When he began to establish a rhythm, a primitive dance of advance and retreat, she responded with a delighted, involuntary sensuality, moving her hips to hold him, discovering how to meet and match him, what movements made him gasp with pleasure.

  Slowly, so slowly, her body reacted to his possession with rapture, a pleasure so intense that she thought she might die of it, yet every movement of his increased it, forcing her remorselessly, relentlessly, towards some unknowable peak, some pinnacle of ecstasy.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Every muscle in her body strained, she wanted nothing more than to…than to... His eyes were fiercely compelling yet almost impersonal, as though he too was striving for that unknown destination.

  She cried out his name, and waves of sensation began to build. Higher, higher, and then so high that she was no longer Oriel, he no longer Blaize; for uncountable moments they were a unity, racked with rapture, tormented by ecstasy, sundered from their previous existence by the shattering experience of that moment.

  When she had come back down Oriel found that she was weeping; not sobbing, just tears running in tracks down her cheeks. Blaize had collapsed on her, his breathing painful as he dragged in air, his heartbeat blending with hers in wild cacophony. Sweat slicked their bodies; she lifted a hand, languid, boneless, and smoothed a lock of wet hair back from his brow.

  ‘I’m too heavy,’ he said.

  ‘No.’ She tightened herself around him, silken limbs, interior muscles she had never known she had keeping him imprisoned in her satin embrace.

  ‘Yes.’ He rolled over, his arms bringing her to rest on top of him.

  She drooped her head on to his chest. ‘If it’s always like that,’ she said faintly, ‘we’re going to have to ration ourselves. Too much of that and I’ll die.’

  His chest lifted on a silent laugh. ‘You’ll get used to it.’ I

  ‘No. Never.’

  ‘Yes. Did I hurt you?’

  ‘No.’ At his disbelieving look she sighed. ‘A little pang at first, but that’s all. You were very gentle.’

  Again that ghost of a laugh. ‘Thank heavens for that.

  I lost my head completely. Oriel?’

  ‘Mmm?’ She turned her head and nuzzled into his chest, lazily savouring the masculine scent, the erotically different textures of smooth skin and the fine hair above it.

  ‘Was I mistaken or did you-did you climax?’

  She smiled, a secret smile. ‘If I didn’t, I don’t want to, ever. That’s enough paradise for one soul to endure.’

  He said quietly, ‘I wonder if you have any idea how rare that is?’

  ‘Yes. I read too, you know. Usually it takes a couple of years. But Blaize, it depends on trust, doesn’t it? I trust you.’

  His hand pressed her head into his chest. ‘That’s as wonderful as hearing that you love me.’

  ‘They go together,’ she said drowsly. ‘Was it as good for you?’

  She held her breath while he answered. He had made it wonderful for her, but she wanted it to be out of this world for him too.

  He lifted her head. ‘Look at me. No, don’t go to sleep. Look at me.’

  Slowly her lashes lifted. Her eyes were dark and hazy with the remnants of passion, his the silver of swords at dawn. ‘It was magnificent,’ he muttered. ‘I have never been so-so lifted out of myself. I wish there were words to tell you.’

  She said uncertainly, ‘I was worried-I know experience is supposed to be-I mean, women improve with experience... And you...’

  Her voice trailed away as he gave her a wicked, wholly masculine grin. ‘I’m no virgin,’ he said, ‘but I’m not promiscuous either. Oh, in my youth, yes, I was just as lustful and thoughtless as any other, but I wasn’t very old when I realised I needed more than a beautiful, willing body and a pleasant temperament. Since then I’ve had a couple of long-term relationships, which were amicably terminated, and that’s all.’

  ‘Then,’ she said, returning his grin, ‘you clearly have a great natural talent. I feel almost sorry that I’m not generous enough to share it with the rest of my sisters.’

  He laughed at that, his narrowed eyes glinting with amusement and something else. To her amazement she found how swiftly she could recover from the shattering experience of a few minutes ago, and how easy it was to surrender again to the tides of passion he roused in her.

  This time it was slow, a gentle rediscovery, a sweetness of wild honey flowing through her. His hands were magical instruments of pleasure, his mouth even more so, and she relearned the keen pleasure of kissing and caressing, that she could make his magnificent body shudder with need and pleasure, until at last they flowed together, male and f
emale, perfectly complementary.

  It was different, but the end was the same; total oblivion to everything but the immensity of rapture that rendered them unable to move, a tangle of limbs on the great bed.

  She said in a shattered voice, ‘I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Neither do I.’ His voice was drowsy, yet permeated by a thoroughly male satisfaction. ‘Do you know that we’ve done two impossible things?’

  ‘Oh, that’s easy when you’re in love,’ she said airily, still exalted by satisfaction and joy. ‘What are they?’

  ‘You reached your peak, and I made love to you twice in about twenty minutes.’

  ‘Is it only twenty minutes...?’ She lifted her head and looked at the bedside clock. ‘Blaize! Blaize, it hasn’t been twenty minutes! Sometime during the night we must have been to sleep. It’s morning! What about the children? Everybody will know what we’ve been doing!’

  ‘A twenty-minute interval,’ he said imperturbably, holding her still as she made desperate attempts to slide off the bed. His great strength kept her immobile as he said in a complacent voice, ‘Haven’t managed that since I was twenty-five or so.’

  She laughed, kissing his mouth. ‘I love you, but that doesn’t mean I’ll believe everything you say, my magnificent love. Blaize, we’ll have to get up. Sarah’s usually awake by six, and if I’m not in my bed she’ll hurtle along here! I don’t know how I’m going to meet anyone’s eyes when I go down.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re the elixir of life,’ he mused, not in the least concerned.

  She choked, and put her arms around him, hugging all she could of him with her not inconsiderable strength. ‘I love you.’

  ‘And I love you. With all my heart. As far as the others are concerned, they’ll all be only too pleased. Poor old James had borne the brunt of my temper-he’ll be delighted. And the children will think it’s a natural progression.’ He must have felt the tiny stiffening of her body, because he pushed up her chin and looked into her eyes. his own very sharp. ‘You’re not still worried about that, are you?’

  ‘I suppose-a little.’

  He looked bleak. ‘I suppose it’s understandable.’ She held her breath, then, as his finger touched her mouth, which was soft and bruised, she kissed it, and he said coolly, ‘Well, how can I show you that I love you, that the fact you’re so wonderful with the children is merely a delightful bonus? We’ve already tried the most obvious method-‘

  ‘You don’t have to show me,’ she said very tenderly. ‘I believe you. After all, you trust me not to be marrying you for what you can give me, don’t you? Trust is a two-way thing.’

  ‘And you have an inferiority complex a mile high. Ah, well. It’s something I in going to enjoy whittling away. And Yes, I do know you aren’t marrying me for money.’ He laughed and threaded his hands between her curls, holding her face still while he kissed her nose ‘You haven’t got enough guile,’ he teased.

  She twisted a strand of curly chest-hair around her finger. ‘Blaize, are you sure I can be a good wife to you? You lead such a different life-’

  ‘I lead a very quiet life,’ he said firmly. ‘Except on very rare occasions I entertain business colleagues at lunch, so you won’t have much to do with that side of my life, unless you want to. I have a small circle of close friends. You like the Duncans, don’t you? They’re a typical example. We socialise together, and very rarely do our names hit any of the gossip columns, either here or overseas. So if that’s what’s worrying you-forget it, my friends will like you, and more important, you will like them. They’re informal and entertaining and pleasant. I’m more worried about whether you’ll being my wife. I don’t want you getting bored because you stay at home.’

  She spread her fingers across his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, strong, reliable as the pulse of the universe. An upwelling of love drove the words from her brain.

  ‘Oriel?’ He sounded shaken, almost unsure of himself. ‘I want you to be happy, darling.’

  Now she looked at him, her lips trembling, her eyes blurred with tears. ‘I can find plenty to do,’ she said at last. ‘l’ll get my degree, and then I can teach adult reading courses, English as a first language-take fencing lessons! Don’t worry about me, Blaize. I’m very adaptable.’

  He snorted. ‘You’re about as adaptable as an iron bar, as I’m sure your mother would tell me. Why the tears?’

  She told him, and that led to a very satisfactory interlude of soft kisses and low murmurs, until at last they got up. After some even more delightful minutes spent in the shower they emerged to find the children eating breakfast in the morning-room with a very smug Kathy.

  Simon took one look at them and began to say something, then stopped. Without preamble Blaize informed them calmly, ‘Oriel and I have decided to get married as soon as possible.’

  There could be no doubt about the reception to this. Sarah danced up, clapping her hands, to hug them both, Simon gave a whoop and raced across to kiss Oriel clumsily on the cheek and, all dignity forgotten, hug Blaize. Kathy beamed and kissed them both and crowed, ‘I knew it! I knew it! What took you so long?’

  Blaize grinned. ‘Stubbornness. Do you think you and James can arrange a wedding in a week?’

  A ludicrous stare of dismay was rapidly replaced by calculation. ‘Of course we can,’ she said coolly. ‘You watch!’

  * * *

  They managed it, but only just. Kathy bewailed the fact she wedding cake didn’t t have time to mature, she produced a wonderful light, summery spread for the twenty or so people who attended. The day before the ceremony Oriel’s mother arrived in a private plane chartered by Blaize, accompanied by Oriel’s two greatest friends, as well as David and his parents.

  And Lora and Matt Duncan were to be there, Lora g rung as soon as she and Matt had come home to confess what she had done. Oriel had laughed, and had forgiven her when Lora had said, ‘I was sure maize was in love with you, and I thought it was time someone showed him what he was risking by his stupidity. Matt told me I shouldn’t interfere, and I've been so worried about it, wondering whether I did the right thing!’

  “It was,’ Oriel had assured her. She liked Lora, and had a ‘premonition that she would come to like her even more in the years to come.

  As Oriel had expected, her mother was astounded and astounded and a little aloof, as though she was she was irritated by what she persisted in calling ‘Oriel’s good luck’.

  Blaize happened to overhear her, and said with crisp emphasis, ‘More my good luck, I think.’

  Jo replied a little self-consciously, ‘Good luck for both of you, of course. So nice that Oriel gets on well with the children…’

  Her voice died away at the sudden fire in her future son-in-law’s eyes. He kissed Oriel’s hand and said calmly, ‘Unfortunately Oriel had this strange and totally untrue picture of herself as someone without charm, with to offer a man. I won’t have her upset or hurt in any way, and I can make life very uncomfortable for anyone who tries.’

  Jo responded to the implied criticism and the almost naked threat with a gratifying fervour. ‘I’m sure you can, and I hope you never have to do so. I wasn’t trying to imply that you are only marrying her for her prowess with the children.’ She met the implacable silver of his eyes with an appeasing smile. ‘The idea is ridiculous! You could get a nurse for Sarah so easily. And I’m sure I only have to see you two together to understand how it is with you.’

  ‘I'm sure you do,’ he said with a cool politeness that gave Oriel the shivers.

  Later, as they watched the dolphins leap around a yacht from the hill beside the Bay, he kissed her hair and said, ‘All right now?’

  ‘Yes.’ She sighed and turned into his embrace, nestling close. ‘My mother wasn’t trying to make mischief, you know. It’s just that she’s always seen me as someone totally without attraction, so she honestly can’t understand what you see in me.’

  ‘Is she blind?’

  ‘No.’ She kissed his chin
, and rubbed her forehead against the slightly rough silk of his jawline. ‘She wanted a son, or failing that, a pretty little girl. I was wild, and tomboyish-Spider-legs, she used to call me. I just got stuck in that image. And even you, my dearest, very biased love, have to admit that I didn’t grow into a pretty woman.’

  ‘No, you're beautiful.’ She laughed up at him, and he I said seriously, ‘I’ll convince you of it if it’s the last thing I do. When I look at you, you fill my eyes. You are perfect to me, everything that a woman should be. But even though I can’t get enough of your beautiful body, even though I lose myself so completely in you, when I look at you it’s not that I see. Or not entirely. It’s the warmth and generosity of your spirit that shines through those delicious outward layers, the love you give so freely, the laughter and intelligence, the strength and the passion and the loyalty. I love you. That encompasses it all.’

  Unbearably moved, she lifted sparkling eyes to him. ‘I don’t deserve that,’ she whispered, ‘but I'm going to try. And although I fell in love with you at first sight I really learned to love you when I realised how much you loved the children, how gentle you were with Sarah, how your strength and the power you wield so effortlessly were tempered by a generous spirit and a great kindness. I love you.’

  The sun set in a blaze of crimson and scarlet and tangerine, but they didn’t see it. Tomorrow was their wedding-day, the social sealing of their bond, but this was the final moment of the journey they had both begun when she had collapsed at his feet on this summer coast, exhausted by the pain and the storm but determined to reach the end of her journey if she had to crawl to get there.

  Tomorrow they began another journey, longer and more difficult than any other, but they were supported by the knowledge they carried in their hearts, the conviction of love returned, the pledging of their efforts to make their life’s journey one that they made together.