Dark Awakening

by Sally Wentworth

  'Behave yourself!' Minta admonished, loving every minute of it. 'People are watching.'

  'Let them; they're only jealous.' But he gave her the towel and picked up his own. 'I'd better change; towelling you dry has the strangest effect on me.'

  They went down to their room and Minta went into the bathroom and took off her wet bikini, turning on the shower to let the water run hot. Dane came to stand in the doorway. He was completely naked. 'Want some help?' he asked lazily.

  She looked into his eyes and her heart started to race. She nodded wordlessly and he came over and picked her up, holding her high in his arms, his lips kissing hers and then moving on down the length of her body. Then he gently carried her into the shower and stood her on her feet while he began to soap her all over, his hands lingering in all the most erogenous places. Minta's breath caught in her throat, her eyes closing as she lost herself in euphoric delight.

  'Don't I get to be washed?' Dane murmured softly in her ear.

  She opened heavy-lidded eyes, her lips parted sensuously. Taking the cake of soap from him, she slowly began to soap his shoulders and then work on down. He was holding her by the hips and she could feel his grip gradually tightening as her hands rubbed and stroked, leaving white trails in the lather on his skin. 'Oh, God, Minta!' The words came out on a groan and his fingers bit into her skin. 'Go on. Don't stop— not yet.'

  But in the end it was he who made her stop, because he suddenly jerked her up into his arms, carried her out of the bathroom and threw her down on to the bed, then, still covered in soap as they both were, he made love to her in a fervent blaze of passion that lifted her to a vortex of pleasure.

  'Oh, Dane,' Minta sighed afterwards, her body satiated. 'That was the best. But every time is the best.' She picked up his hand and kissed it, tasting the soap that lingered there. 'Will it always be as good as this?'

  Dane smiled and pushed a lock of hair off her damp brow. 'How young you are!'

  Minta pulled away. 'I don't like that,' she complained. 'You make it sound as if being young makes you stupid and naive.'

  'There's nothing wrong with being naive. I just meant that you're not very experienced.'

  'And you are, I suppose,' Minta said with more than a touch of jealousy.

  'Enough to know that love changes with time. At the moment sex is the most important part of it, but gradually other things will become as important.'

  'Do you mean children?' she asked doubtfully, thinking that nothing could ever be as important as sex.

  'Not really; they're only part of it. There are other things.'

  'Do you want children?' she asked.

  'Of course. Do you?'

  'Oh, yes. At least two. I may be pregnant already,' she reminded him.

  He put a hand on the soft swell of her stomach. 'So you may. A girl as lovely as you.'

  'No, I'd rather have a boy with dark hair and gorgeous grey eyes.' Her voice trailed off as she traced the contours of his face with her finger. 'But on second thoughts,' she added rather huskily, 'I think I'd rather wait before we have a baby. I don't want to be fat and unattractive so that you won't want me. And I don't want to have to share you—not yet.'

  'Darling, you'll never be unattractive to me. Don't you know that? But if you really want me to prove it to you all over again ….’

  It was several days before Dane told her that his friend had now left his house and they were free to move in. During that time he had had to leave her on her own for long periods when he was working, and she had spent the time exploring the town, sunbathing, and assiduously practising her swimming because she thought it would please him. She also wrote to several friends and a few relations in England, telling them of her marriage and giving them the hotel address, but she didn't attempt to write to her father. Not only could she not bring herself to forgive him, but the way he had sent her things on after her clearly indicated that he wanted nothing more to do with her. If there was one thing more than any other that Minta had inherited from her father it was obstinacy; they could both be as stubborn as the proverbial mule over an issue, and whereas before it hadn't mattered too much, this time they had clashed head-on, and Minta was darned if she was going to make the first move towards a reconciliation.

  When Dane joined her in the evenings they would have drinks in the hotel bar and then go into the restaurant for dinner, afterwards strolling through the narrow streets of the town, mostly down across the narrow strip of land to the Santa Catalina park, which was a large square facing the opposite bay, near the port. The square was an essentially continental place, always thronged with people at any time of day, sitting outside at the open-air cafes, under the shade of palms and enormous Canary laurel trees, watching the stallholders who sold everything from postcards to antiques, and where a bootblack would clean Dane's shoes for just a few pesetas while they sipped their coffee and Minta nibbled delicious roast almonds bought from a man who sold them from a basket.

  She hadn't liked the look of the town when she first saw it and there were certainly parts that were extremely ugly, but there was something about the place that got to you, especially here, where there was always something going on, but it was life enjoyed in a leisurely, civilised way, without the fearful rush of mainland cities. Once or twice Minta had walked down to the square on her own for a mid-morning coffee, but Dane warned her never to go there alone in the evening, because it was then that the seamen from the ships in the port came into the town to try to pick up girls. Because the island was so new to her Minta didn't mind being left by herself so much, and there were always the evenings to look forward to, when, after they had had dinner and sat in the square for an hour or so, Dane would raise his eyebrow in a silent question and she would nod eagerly in answer. Then they would walk back to their hotel hand in hand, their bodies close, and make love until they fell into exhausted, satiated sleep.

  They checked out of the hotel immediately after breakfast one morning and Dane drove her to their new home, their suitcases filling the boot and the back of the car. It wasn't very far away, set in a small street only a few hundred yards from the Avenida Maritima, the main road that ran along the edge of the sea on the port side of the isthmus. There were double wooden gates set into a high wall overhung with trees, that led into a small paved courtyard just large enough to take the car. To the right of the courtyard was a small but very pretty garden, bright with red poinsettias and purple and orange bougainvillea that trailed along the wall and up the front of the house, mingling in a confused mass with climbing geraniums which grew like weeds in pink and red profusion. There were, too, several trees and shrubs, including two tall palm trees that cast dancing ballerina shadows on the grass, and a lemon tree, its tangy scent carried on the slight breeze from the sea.

  Minta turned towards the house and gave an involuntary exclamation of pleasure. It wasn't very large, but what it lacked in size it more than made up for in attractiveness. It was painted white, as were most of the houses on the island, and had a low-pitched roof of rich red pantiles. Double solid wooden doors, painted a dull black, were on the left side of the house with a window further along, but the most attractive feature of the building was a large, ornately carved wooden balcony on the first floor, set under a little roof also hung with pantiles. From this roof and along the ledge of the balcony there stood or hung dozens of pots of geraniums and other flowers so that there was almost a miniature garden up there.

  'Oh, how lovely! It's gorgeous,' Minta enthused, her eyes alight with pleasure.

  'I hope you'll like it as much inside,' Dane remarked. 'The house used to belong to my grandmother's family and is rather old, but I've had central heating put in and the kitchen modernised.'

  'I'm going to love it—I just know I am!' Minta flung her arms round his neck and kissed him exuberantly, overflowing with happiness.

  He unlocked the double doors and she moved to walk eagerly in ahead of him, but Dane held her back. 'Oh no; we do it this way.' And he stooped
to pick her up in his arms and carry her over the threshold into the cool, dim interior.

  Minta laughed with delight and kept her arms round his neck when he set her on her feet, looking up into his face, her own suddenly serious. 'Thank you,' she said earnestly. 'Thank you so very, very much.'

  'For what?' Dane smiled down at her.

  'For this house. For being so wonderful. For loving me.'

  The smile faded and he frowned. 'Don't sell yourself short,' he told her, his voice rough. 'It isn't all onesided.'

  'No. No, of course not,' Minta agreed uncertainly, taken aback by his change of mood. Taking her arms down, she caught hold of his hand and said brightly, 'Come and show me over the house.'

  He did so willingly enough. On the ground floor there was a large sitting-room looking out over the garden, furnished comfortably in a happy mixture of rather heavy Spanish antique pieces with a bright new three-piece suite, a music centre with loads of records, and a bookcase crammed full of modern novels. There was also a small dining-room, an even smaller room that Dane said was used as a study, and a kitchen. On the upper floor there were two bedrooms and a bathroom opening off a corridor which ended in that divine balcony overlooking the garden. All the rooms had tiled floors and plain white walls, but there were rich rugs and lots of pictures to take away any feeling of bareness.

  'It's heavenly!' Minta exclaimed excitedly. 'Shall we have this bedroom?' She indicated the one overlooking the garden.

  'Of course. It has the biggest bed.'

  'And we'll make great use of it, won't we?'

  'Indeed we will,' he promised. 'Starting tonight. But now I'm afraid I must go. I have to drive down to the site of the time-share development to meet the architects. You'll be all right here unpacking, won't you?'

  'Yes, of course. But what about dinner?'

  'We'll eat out.'

  'Hey! I am a Cordon Bleu cook, you know. I can I quite easily go out and get something and cook it here.'

  'But will you be able to ask for what you want in the I shops? I'll have to find someone to give you Spanish lessons now that we've moved in here,' he said, half to himself. 'Anyway, I'll leave it to you. But if you do go out take a taxi; I don't want you getting lost.' He gave a glance at his watch. 'I must go, or I shall be late. 'Bye, darling.' He went to give her a quick kiss, but Minta grabbed him round the waist and kissed him properly, moving her hips voluptuously against him in a way that she had already learnt excited him almost beyond control.

  'Hey, what are you trying to do?' he demanded as soon as he could breathe. 'Put me down, woman!'

  But Minta had already pulled his shirt out of his trousers and her hands were at his belt. 'Not until we've tried that bed out,' she told him mischievously, and pushed him backwards so that he fell across it.

  'There isn't time; I have to be at the site by…' His words trailed off as Minta's hands, more practised now, roused and inflamed his sexual appetite. 'God,' he groaned, pulling her on top of him. 'A man could go bankrupt with a sex-cat like you around!'

  When he finally left, at least half an hour late, Minta purred like the sex-cat he had called her. Lying there on the ruffled covers of the big bed, she revelled in her own happiness, thanking all the gods for letting her meet and fall in love with Dane and for the sexual joy and fulfilment he had given her. He was such a sensational lover—she was sure there couldn't be another couple in the world as happy as they were. She spent a delightful day exploring the house and garden, unpacking their cases and stowing all the things away in the empty wardrobes and chests of drawers in the bedroom. The top drawer she chose for her own things, and as she laid her underwear in it she felt something lumpy under the paper that lined the old wood. Fishing it out, she was astonished to find a woman's earring. It was rather an ornate piece of jewellery, the type for pierced ears, and set with red and white stones that sparkled in the sun coming in from the garden. Taking it over to the window for a closer look, she was even more surprised to see that the stones were real, which must make it quite valuable. Whoever had lost it must surely have missed it, but they obviously hadn't searched in the right place.

  With a shrug, Minta dropped the earring into a little dish on the top of the dresser and forgot about it until she noticed it that evening as they were changing to go out to dinner. Dane had come home late and they had decided to eat out. 'Hey, your friend that you lent the house to—did he have a girl-friend?' she called out to Dane who was in the bathroom.

  'Why do you ask?' He stood in the doorway, a towel in his hands.

  'Because I found an earring under the lining of one of the drawers in the dresser this morning.' She laughed. 'Unless your friend liked to dress up in women's gear!'

  'No, of course not.' Dane came over and looked at the piece of jewellery in her outstretched hand. 'I suppose he must have had a girl here. I'll see that he gets it back.'

  'Who is your friend? Are you going to introduce me to him?'

  'No.' The word came out curtly and Minta's brows arched in surprise. Seeing it, Dane gave a shrug and a small smile, saying, 'That is, I can't introduce you because he's gone over to Tenerife to live. He couldn't find anywhere else in Las Palmas.'

  'That's a shame. I haven't met any of your friends yet.'

  'No—well, I've been too busy to make many friends since I've been here. Most of the people I know are business acquaintances, and they're nearly all Canarios and don't speak much English.' He turned away and began to dress.

  'I thought you'd lived here a long time?'

  'Only as a child when my grandmother was alive. We came for a few holidays after she died, but that was all.'

  'And your brother—doesn't he live in the Islands?'

  'No, he lives in England all the time now.'

  Minta's brow wrinkled in puzzlement. 'Why didn't you invite him to our wedding, then? He could have been your best man.' Dane stood with his back to her, looking for a tie, and didn't answer.'He didn't object to you marrying me, did he?' she asked, half joking, half uncertain.

  Dane straightened up. 'It didn't matter whether he was there or not. You were all that mattered to me.

  Why don't you come over here and tie this tie for me,' he added, 'instead of sitting there throwing questions at me.'

  She gave a gurgle of laughter and came to do as he asked, her tongue between her teeth as she concentrated. Something in his tone had told her that Dane didn't want to pursue the subject, but being a woman she perversely said, 'You have told your brother that we're married, haven't you?'

  His hand closed over hers in a sudden, vice-like grip. 'He had a nervous breakdown,' he said grimly. 'He isn't in a fit state to care one way or the other.'

  'Oh, I am sorry. Is it very bad?'

  'Yes.'

  And now, too late, Minta left the subject alone. As she looked round for some new topic, her eyes settled on the earring and she picked it up again. 'I wonder who your friend's girl-friend was. She must be pretty wealthy if she could afford to lose an earring like this; these stones are real.'

  'I've already said I'd see to it,' Dane said harshly, taking the earring from her and dropping it into his pocket. 'For God's sake let's forget about it and go out and eat.'

  Then he strode out of the room leaving Minta staring after him in consternation, wondering what on earth she had done to upset him.

  That night, for the first time, Dane didn't make love to her. Minta lay beside him listening to the even sounds of his breathing, the moonlight from the unshuttered windows lying across the counterpane. She felt terribly lonely and sort of empty inside, needing the reassurance of his touch, his nearness. He had been rather abstracted all evening and, although she had done her best to be bright and amusing, she hadn't been able to completely break down the barrier that he had withdrawn behind. She had suggested that they come straight home after their meal instead of going for a walk along the promenade, hoping that they would make love and she would be able to get through to him that way. But, although she had bee
n quite wanton in her efforts to arouse him, Dane had merely caught her exploring hands, kissed her gently, and turned off the light, falling almost immediately asleep.

  And now she lay trying to work out what she had done to make him act like this, realising that it could only be talking about his brother that had upset him. The illness of a close relative must, of course, be upsetting to anyone, and Dane must obviously care very deeply about his brother to not even want to talk about it, especially to her. Minta longed to share his hurt with him, to comfort him; that was what love meant, wasn't it—to share the good and the bad? Raising herself on her elbow, she looked down at his sleeping face, outlined in the moonlight. How quickly he had become indispensable to her life. If anything happened to him she wouldn't want to go on living. It distressed her greatly that she had inadvertently hurt him, that was the last thing she ever wanted to do. Especially, she admitted honestly to herself, if it meant that he didn't want to make love, even for a night. Until she had met Dane she had never realised how wonderful sex could be, but he had aroused a sexual appetite in her that needed to be constantly appeased. She decided that first thing tomorrow morning she would apologise for upsetting him, tell him that she didn't want to pry, but that she loved him, and that if any time he felt like talking about it she was there, waiting to listen and help if she could.

  But as it turned out, Minta never said any of those things, because as she came languorously awake the next morning, she felt Dane's hands on her, softly stroking her warm skin. As happened every night when she wore a nightdress, it had rumpled upwards while she slept and ended up gathered around her waist. She was lying on her front, her legs sprawled apart, and for a few minutes she stayed that way, pretending to be still asleep, revelling in the intoxicating touch of his hands. But then his probing fingers made her gasp and she turned over to face him, her eyes alight with ardent expectation. He had pulled back the covers and was leaning over her quite naked, his body lit by the glow of the morning sun. Reaching up, he helped her to take off the nightdress and then kissed her gently on the mouth, his hands caressing her breasts into wakefulness, to be closely followed by his lips and his tongue, going on down her body, fondling each other, each valley, his seductive lips lighting a fire inside her that burned to a white heat.