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Only he hadn’t…he hadn’t waited. Hadn’t loved her. Hadn’t given her the wedding ring nor the child he had promised her so passionately and, she had believed, so meaningfully.
Oh, God! Had he guessed just now in the hallway, when she had stepped towards him instead of stepping away, just what was going through her mind, her body? How easy it would have been for her to…? Had he known that a foolish, idiotic part of her had actually thought that he was going to kiss her, that he had wanted to kiss her? That that same foolish, idiotic part of her remembered with such aching intensity that that was exactly how he used to move towards her when…?
‘No,’ Verity protested despairingly beneath her breath. ‘No…please, no…’ But it was already too late, already the memories were flooding back, swamping her. The first time he had made love to her…She could remember it as clearly and intensely as though it had only happened yesterday.
They had been out together for the day. Another visit to a famous garden—Silas, as she had discovered by this time, was a passionate advocate of the importance of good garden structure.
‘Not having a proper structure to me is like…like…well, imagine trying to clothe a human body if all the limbs had simply been stuck on haphazardly here and there and everywhere, or if a house had been designed simply by adding one room next to another…’
And he produced books and then drawings to show Verity to reinforce his point. Completely head over heels in love with him by this stage, Verity acknowledged that she was probably spending longer gazing adoringly at the way his hair curled into his collar and flopped over his forehead than studying the designs he was showing her, but she took on board all that he was saying and she was as impressed and excited as he was by the elegant simplicity of the gardens they went to see.
‘Every garden h
as a right to be properly designed,’ he told her passionately, ‘and you only have to read one of Sir Roy Strong’s books to see just how the concept of good architectural design can be transferred to even the smallest urban garden.’
They were sitting eating their sandwiches at the time.
‘Mmm…’ Verity agreed, smiling lovingly at him.
And then he put down his sandwich and removed hers from her, and took her in his arms and kissed her lingeringly and very, very thoroughly, but very gently, before lifting his head and looking from her love-dazed eyes to her kiss softened mouth before telling her rawly, ‘You don’t know what I’d give right now to be somewhere alone with you and private…’
Very slowly he reached out and traced the shape of her lips with his fingertip.
‘Perfect,’ he whispered tenderly.
‘Good architectural design,’ Verity whispered teasingly back.
‘Better than that. The best,’ Silas told her solemnly, but then the laughter died out of his eyes as the tip of his finger touched the centre of her bottom lip and Verity could feel it and him starting to shake with need—a need which she fully reciprocated.
‘Couldn’t we do that—be together?’ Verity asked him huskily.
They talked about becoming lovers but Silas told her that he had applied the brakes to his plans to find them the perfect hideaway because he wanted to wait until he was sure it was what she wanted—he was what she wanted—and that he didn’t want to rush her.
‘We could…there’s my bedroom,’ Verity boldly offered her home again. Her uncle was away on another trip. The Sales Director’s appendicitis had proved more problematic than his doctors had first expected, causing a delay in his recovery, and her uncle had had to take over his duties and was consequently away on business far more than usual.
‘No, not there,’ Silas answered firmly, ‘but if you’re sure…’
His hand was holding the back of her head, caressing her scalp through her hair. Shivering with excitement and emotion, Verity smiled tremulously at him. The look in his eyes made her face burn—and not with the embarrassment of coy self-consciousness of a young woman who was still a virgin.
‘I’m sure,’ she told him positively. ‘Oh, Silas, I’m so sure…’
‘I want everything to be right—special,’ he told her gruffly. ‘I’ve looked into some of the hotels in the area and I could book us a room—for tonight…’
‘Oh, yes, yes,’ Verity breathed.
Tenderly she reached out and touched his face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips, the hard firmness of the bones and muscles that lay below it. She might not have been physically experienced, might never have had a previous lover, but she had no sense of fear nor trepidation, simply a deep inner knowledge of how right this was, of how right Silas was!
Silas found them a hotel several miles away from the garden they had visited. Small and privately owned, it was set in its own gardens but, for once, after they had booked in, Silas showed no inclination to explore.
‘I…I thought you might like to…to see the gardens,’ Verity had protested a little uncertainly once they were alone in the room.
Silas shook his head quietly, locking the door before turning back to her.
‘No. Right now there’s only one thing I want to do, one garden I want to explore,’ he said softly, and Verity knew from the way he looked at her, his glance slowly caressing every inch of her, just exactly what he meant.
‘I…what…? I don’t know what to do,’ she told him finally and honestly, blushing and then laughing. ‘Well, I do, at least I think I do, but…’
‘Come here,’ Silas commanded her and, her colour still high, Verity walked unsteadily into his arms.
