Lessons and Lovers

by Portia Da Costa

  The doctor fell silent, but a kind of communication passed between them nevertheless. Hettie felt a pang of intense guilt. The relationship symmetry at Dragonwood suddenly seemed to exclude her beautiful friend. Twos into five did not go, and wise, experienced Stevie was taking herself out of the field of play.

  “But, Stevie, please. I wanted you to have a nice little holiday. A chance to chill out,” she still protested.

  “And I have had. It’s been wonderful,” Stevie affirmed, her green eyes steady, “But I’m a fifth wheel here now, and my secretary’s just rung about a couple of emergency appointments. I need to be back in London, love.”

  Obviously, Stevie had commitments, and Hettie accepted that, but she was still going to miss her daring friend. And it must have shown on her face.

  “Don’t worry, Hett,” said Stevie reassuringly, “Darryl and Renata will be fine. And so will you and Starr. Trust me.”

  “I want to believe you, Stevie. And part of me does. But it’s slow going. Sometimes I think we’re almost there, and he’s going to say something…then blam, we’re back to square one again!

  “That’s because you’ve got to make the first move,” Stevie said emphatically, “It’s all there inside him, love, but there’s a wall in front of it that you’ve got to break down.” She grinned suddenly, “And I don’t mean something so antifeminist as crawling to him, woman… You’ve just got to tell him! And if he insists on adhering to this demented ‘servant’ stance of his, you’ve simply got to order him to admit it!”

  “Admit what?”

  “That he loves you, of course, twit!” Stevie laughed softly, then gave Hettie a quick, hard hug.

  “Hang in there, sweetheart, it’ll happen,” the doctor whispered, and pressed a kiss to Hettie’s cheek. Then she leapt to her feet, flipped an elegant little salute and said, “See you back in London. Good luck! And phone me to let me know what happens!”

  And with that, the good doctor swept from the room and closed the door firmly behind her.

  “Bye, Stevie,” whispered Hettie. Weird thoughts drifted through her mind again for a moment. Thoughts about what might have been if there had been no Starr in the world. But they were only notions, as fleeting as images glimpsed through the window of a speeding car.

  A short while later, as Hettie was completing her toilette, there was another knock.

  More “what if”?

  Hettie made sure her robe was covering everything and her sash tightly tied. It hadn’t been Starr’s firm decisive knock, but one much more tentative.

  Caller number two was Darryl, and Hettie stifled a sigh of appreciation. She was throwing him together with his probably less than deserving cousin now, but she still had to admit he was a prime piece of eye candy. He looked sensational in a pair of white tennis shorts and a racer-back shirt that highlighted his delicious Mediterranean coloring.

  “So, Darryl, what can I do for you at this time of the morning?” It came out sounding a tiny bit more suggestive than she’d intended and he smiled shyly in response. It was sweet that he could still be so bashful after his display on the patio yesterday with Stevie.

  “I was going to bring you some tea, but Stevie said she’d bring it,” he began hesitantly. “What I really wanted was to talk though.”

  “Yes, and I think I know what about,” she said encouragingly, patting the bed at her side. “I’ve had a pep talk from Stevie too. About what I ought to do,” she paused and bit her lip, “and whom I ought to be doing it with.”

  “Oh,” he said softly.

  “And I think she’s right really, don’t you?”

  He nodded and there was a long quiet moment while he seemed to gather his thoughts.

  “Renata’s not strong like you are, Hettie,” he said at last. “She needs someone to take charge and I think that if I become that someone it’ll make me strong.”

  He took a twist of the bedspread in his long tawny fingers and started worrying it, “I like Ren and I think I could a lot more than like her when we really get to know each other. Dio, I’m not putting this very well, am I?”

  “It’s okay. I understand, Darryl, don’t worry.”

  “He’s down by the river, I think.” Darryl accompanied his sudden change of tack with a smile and Hettie smiled too, no longer scared by his uncanny intuition, “I saw him set off in that direction a short while ago… And he looked as if he was thinking some very deep thoughts.”

  “He’s not the only one!” she said, laughing softly, “Now go and give Renata the benefit of everything you’ve learnt in the last few days!”

  “With the greatest of pleasure,” Darryl answered, giving her a wicked wink and blowing her a kiss before disappearing out of the door.

  “I’m sure it will be,” whispered Hettie as she jumped up and began to hunt around for something to wear. Something that wasn’t black.

  “Well, Piers, how do you like it?” she asked, standing at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in white, in front of a portrait of her late husband.

  It could’ve been wishful thinking, but Piers seemed to wink at her and approve what she was about to do.

  It was all your idea anyway, wasn’t it, my love?

  Smiling to herself, she stepped out of the door into a beautiful morning. She’d been set up, she decided, just as Stevie had said. But as she watched the trees by the river swaying gently in the breeze, she accepted that she didn’t mind Piers’ machinations at all. Not one little bit. Down in that leafy grove was where Starr was, thinking his thoughts and pondering their future, and suddenly she wanted to be there too.

  The sun was warm on Hettie’s legs as she ran down the steps, past the glinting pool and out through the tiered garden towards the grass. What would Starr think of this outfit, these clothes she’d scavenged from the wardrobe she’d left behind the last time she’d stayed here with Piers? White shorts—very short shorts!—white T-shirt and neat white deck shoes. And beneath, tiny white panties that were already beginning to get moist.

  She paused when she reached the edge of the formal garden and looked up towards the balcony and the row of bedroom windows. The curtains of the window of Renata’s room were still drawn to and Hettie hoped with all her heart that behind them something wonderful was happening.

  For all her follies and foolishness, Ren was a sweet girl and she deserved some happiness after all the false starts she’d had with the men in her life. And Darryl had everything necessary to make her happy. Beauty, gentleness, a kind, caring disposition and probably—even after only a couple of days tuition—a precocious talent in bed. With the enthusiastic and intuitive Signor di Angeli between her thighs, Hettie doubted if Renata would have problems with orgasms for much longer!

  You’re lucky I’m spoken for, Ren!

  Heart happy, Hettie broke into a run again, devouring the greensward of the park at an almost competitive speed in her haste to reach the trees, the river…and her destiny.

  Sunlight on water twinkled through the copse as she entered it, heading for the place where the small river widened into a semblance of a pool. There was a fallen tree in a clearing there, a kind of natural bench where she’d once—while exploring—happened on a certain tall blond blue-eyed man engaged in some sketching. He hadn’t allowed her to see his work, of course, and had covered the page immediately, then distracted her attention by pointing out a kingfisher about to dart into the stream.

  As she cut silently amongst the trees, her footsteps masked by moss and soft undergrowth, she could see him. Sitting on his log, the dappled sunlight glinting on his naked back as he bent over the drawing pad spread across his parted thighs. His concentration seemed total, but knowing Starr as she did, it seemed impossible that he wasn’t aware of her approach.

  Finally, she stopped just a couple of feet away from where he sat, but he still didn’t look up or turn.

  It seemed ludicrous to be afraid of speaking to this man she’d made love with so many times, but Hettie’s heart was in her
mouth and any words she might have said had suddenly dried up.

  “Good morning, Ma’am,” he said quietly, his pencil gliding over the smooth white paper.

  “Good morning, Starr,” she answered, stepping closer, “May I see what you’re drawing?”

  “Of course.” He paused in his work and edged along the tree trunk, making space for her to sit beside him.

  The sketch wasn’t at all what she’d expected. Instead of a woodland view, the paper bore a very detailed and finely worked sketch of a face and body she knew only too well…

  A naked figure, gracefully reclining and eyes closed as if sleeping. A woman utterly relaxed after lovemaking. It was herself, Lady Henrietta Miller, posed amongst the tangled sheets in her bedroom at Pengilley Gardens. And drawn entirely from memory.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, her throat suddenly thick with tears, “You’ve made me look beautiful.”

  “You are beautiful, Milady.” He yielded up the pad as she tugged it onto her own lap for a better look. Peripherally, she registered that he too seemed to have decided it was time to dispense with black clothing. His long muscular thighs disappeared into a pair of ragged blue denim cutoffs. It was his only garment and his feet were as bare as his gleaming upper body.

  “Oh my,” she muttered as she flipped over page after page, drawing after drawing, every single one a likeness of her. His talent and technical expertise were undeniable but it was the raw emotion in every line that took her breath away.

  “But why?” she demanded, flipping the pad closed, dazzled by the intensity of what she’d seen and the fire that burned beneath the familiar images of her body and face.

  “Because I can’t stop myself,” he said simply.

  For a moment, Hettie didn’t know what to say or do. To draw her over and over again obsessively must mean what she hoped it meant but she was still scared that she was hoping for too much. Screwing up her courage, she put the drawing pad down on the grass next to the log, then reached up and took the pencil from Starr’s still fingers and dropped it with the pad.

  “Look, I don’t know how to say this… How to ask…” she faltered, “But I know I’ve got to because if I don’t you might never ask me!”

  She sensed him tense beside her and her fear swirled up, tightening in her throat and pounding in her chest. But she’d begun so she had to go on.

  “Starr, please tell me. I know we’ve made love… So many times… But what do you really think about me? Do you have any feelings for me of your own? Other than duty and loyalty to Piers? Please, I need a straight answer!”

  It sounded so childish, like the questions posed by little girls in their playground cliques. Do you like me? Do you want to be on my side? Wishing she’d never asked at all she looked straight up into a pair of eyes that were clear as the water beside them but blue as the mightiest of oceans.

  He didn’t grimace or scowl, but he didn’t smile either. Hettie shook. After what seemed like a lifetime, he pursed his lips. Then his eyelashes flicked down once and he spoke.

  “I love you, Ma’am,” he said with quiet dignity, “I’ve loved you from the first instant I set eyes on you. You were standing in the doorway of a gallery in Mayfair, holding Sir Piers’ arm.” His voice faded away almost, and ocean blue turned dark and stormy.

  “You’d just met and I had to drive you to his house so the two of you could make love for the first time.”

  Hettie felt a huge pain savage her, and knew she was feeling only the faintest echo of what the man beside her had felt. “He was going to possess you. Make love with you. Take what I suddenly wanted more than anything in the world.” His knuckles were clenched, white against the strong sinewy gold of his hands. “There, Milady, is that straight enough for you?”

  She felt anger fizzing out of him and knew that it was not the first time he’d felt it. She hardly dare think about the suffering he’d gone through for her. Lovemaking must have been as much a torment for him as a pleasure if he was entrenched in the belief that he was merely an employee performing a particularly intimate service.

  “Thank you, Starr. Thank you for your honesty,” she said, grabbing at every ounce of her boldness and reaching out to take his hands and smooth the tension from his fingers. “It deserves a straight answer.”

  No hesitation now, Hettie!

  “I loved Piers, and I still love him. I don’t think I’ll ever stop. But that doesn’t mean I can’t love others too. I’ve become fond of Darryl. And I certainly care for Stevie…” Gripping his hand, she raised it to her lips and kissed it quickly before her courage failed her, “But you… I love you, Starr. I can’t put my hand on my heart and say exactly when it happened, but it’s been around for quite a while.”

  The next silence lasted for a thousand lifetimes. A millennium. An eon. Until Starr smiled. “That’s wonderful, Ma’am,” he said softly.

  “I’m glad you think so,” she answered pertly as her confidence came storming back and brought a tidal wave of arousal with it. She’d have to have him in her soon or she’d pass out, but there was still one last detail to finalize.

  “And that means there’s another thing I’ve got to ask. Because I can’t see you asking it in a hurry.”

  He quirked his fine and surprisingly dark eyebrows in sudden amusement, then reached out and put one long finger across her lips, effectively silencing her.

  “Will you marry me, Milady?”

  Hettie gasped as he withdrew the fingertip. For a moment she felt lightheaded with joy. All the unspoken dreams and wishes that had been gathering slowly but surely had come to perfect fulfillment in the space of a heartbeat.

  “Well?” She saw a momentary flash of doubt darken his amazing, sculpted features, and wanted to kiss away the slight frown on his brow. Kiss away every doubt he’d ever had and ever would have for all the future that lay ahead of them…

  “Of course, Starr,” she said, at a loss for anything else.

  “Good, I thought you might,” he said, his face perfectly straight again. And so deliciously smug she could almost have slapped him.

  “What? You don’t think it’s inappropriate, improper or ‘not your place’ then?” she inquired, feeling delirious enough to tease him.

  “No, not now.” The expression on his face grew serious again for a moment, “I’ve been a coward too long… Hiding behind a convenient role. Afraid of fighting for what I want.”

  Then the seriousness faded, and his sensuous lips curved into a warm, devilish smile, “But now I’ve decided to stop being a fool. And kick out all the stupid restrictions I placed on myself… Because I was the one who put them there. It was never Piers…or you.” He paused, then looked at her very levelly. “I think that us getting married is an excellent idea.”

  “Is that a fact?” she shot back, grinning and deciding that she’d never met a less cowardly or foolish man in her life. “Well, now we’ve got that sorted out, do you think you could possibly manage to make love to me?”

  He could more than manage, she could see that. Beneath the denim of his shorts, his erection was already pushing and rising.

  “Of course, Ma’am,” he said solemnly, his blue eyes alight with laughter and what she could see quite clearly now was love.

  “Kindly get on with it then.”

  He didn’t say “of course, Ma’am” again but it was there in his handsome face, the way he bit his lip and rolled his eyes as if it were an effort not to say it. Instead of words he let his actions speak, swiveling his hands out of her grip, then taking hold of her by the shoulders and drawing her up alongside him as he got to his feet.

  Starr was so tall and so straight that he had to bend down to kiss her on the mouth. He took her lips with the most feather-light gentleness, stroking their outline with his tongue and then with the merest of pressures, asking for entrance and acceptance. Hettie gave it gladly, receiving his heat and moisture with the happiest of hearts, her mouth, her body and very soul opening to him
as his steely arms closed around her.

  It was the most romantic of kisses, their mouths moving softly on one another to the sound of rippling water and rustling branches and birdsong. And yet it was sexual too. Sexy in the tasting, the rhythmic exchange of tongue thrusts, the moisture that flowed between them and anew between Hettie’s legs. Most of all, it was erotic in the rubbing of their groins against each other—she circling her pubis against the unyielding muscle of his thigh, and he, the taller one, pressing his potent erection against her soft cotton-clad belly.

  Who was teasing whom the most? Hettie wondered. She was enjoying these preliminaries, but suddenly she wanted control. She wanted to be in charge of this lovemaking, not just the recipient of Starr’s great skill as she so often was.

  Reaching between them she sought and found the button on his shorts, then slipped it open. Not releasing his mouth from the kiss, she reached inside the shabby denim garment and discovered to her joy that he was naked underneath it. His cock almost leaped into her grasp, its tip wet and silky while the shaft was hotter and harder than she’d ever felt it before. As she fondled him, she felt him release her for a second or two then push down his shorts so that they fell in a heap around his ankles.

  What a drawing this would make, she thought, flicking her tongue around the inside of his mouth as she delicately masturbated the swollen head of his cock.

  The two of them standing in a woodland glade, she clothed and he nude and golden and submitting to the most intimate of handling while he kissed her. She could feel the groans rising in his throat as she pressed and probed at the most sensitive areas of his cock, squeezing the glans and spreading his slippery pre-come all over the fine satin skin that almost seared her fingers with its heat.

  Fondling him mercilessly, she sucked at his tongue like a famished beast, timing the swirls of her own tongue with the tantalizing play of her fingertips along the sensitive under-groove of his cock head. He wanted to shout and moan, she knew it, but there was no way she was going to free his mouth until he’d spent in her hand.