‘Particularly if it means that. It’s not the easy thing to do. The easy thing would be to pretend everything’s fine, to compromise yourself – to say, “You’re my dad and I love you, so anything you do is okay.”’
‘But can you hope for reconciliation if there’s no forgiveness?’
‘I think so,’ Philip said quietly. ‘I hope so. I don’t need him to forgive me. I just want to see him again,’ he said bleakly. ‘Quite apart from the fact that he’s my son, he seems like someone who would be worth knowing. And besides—’ His voice broke, and he looked at his hands, overcome with emotion.
‘Yes?’ Richard prompted.
Philip cleared his throat, struggling visibly to regain his composure. ‘He’s the only connection I have to Helen.’
Kate swallowed hard, tears springing to her eyes. She had been almost afraid to look at Will throughout the interview, but she glanced at him now and saw that tears were streaming silently down his face. She wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him, but he might have thought she was expecting him to kiss her again. She wiped her eyes as the program ended and the credits rolled.
She stood and switched off the TV. ‘Do you want something to eat?’ she asked. ‘I made shepherd’s pie.’ She winced inwardly.Brian was always accusing her of thinking food was the solution to everything. Perhaps he was right.
‘Yes, please,’ Will said, brushing away the tears. ‘Actually, I’m starving.’
Perhaps Brian wasn’t right, after all, she thought. Will didn’t seem to find the idea of food incongruous. Maybe what people needed at times like this were the basic comforts. Food. Sex. The thought came unbidden. At least watching the program had taken her mind off sex for an hour or so, but now it was over, it was at the front of her brain again.
They decided to eat in the kitchen as there were only the two of them. Kate felt like a nervy horse, so aware of Will it was ridiculous. She felt him behind her and practically leapt ten feet in the air when he put his hand on her bare shoulder as he reached over her to take glasses from an overhead cupboard. If she leaned back just a centimetre their bodies would be touching. If she turned, she would practically be in his arms.
Calm down,she told herself crossly. He’s just setting the table. It’s not foreplay.
But the air seemed charged with electricity and Kate felt ready to burst into flames at his slightest touch. She wondered if it was just her or if he felt it too. Without the usual crowd of people, it seemed incredibly intimate, just the two of them sitting down to eat at the kitchen table. It was a big table, but they sat close together at right angles to each other. The lightest, most casual touch seemed charged with eroticism. When she passed him a serving spoon and their fingers brushed, she felt as if she’d received an electric shock, the ripples reverberating somewhere in her groin.
‘This is really good,’ Will said, forking shepherd’s pie into his mouth.
‘You spoke to Mum?’ she asked quietly.
‘Yes. She’ll be at the funeral.’
‘And you’re off to England tomorrow?’
Will nodded. ‘Louise has me on a flight in the morning. Antonia wants me to stay with her.’
‘That’s good.’ Kate nodded encouragingly, hoping he intended to accept the offer. She couldn’t bear the thought of him being alone at such a time.
‘It’s very kind of her,’ Will added. ‘It’ll be strange, though. I don’t know her – and I’ve never even met Paul, my half-brother.’
‘How old is he now?’
‘About sixteen,’ he answered, without hesitation.
Of course – he had been a new baby when Will’s mother died.
‘It’s a horrible age to lose your father,’ he said.
‘Yes. But there’s no good age, is there?’ Kate said softly.
Will felt an overwhelming surge of love. He wanted to ask Kate to go to the funeral with him. He had always wanted her there when he went to see his father – he just hadn’t expected to be going to see him in his coffin. That made him want her there all the more.
He ate mechanically. He couldn’t concentrate on the food – couldn’t concentrate on anything, if the truth be told. All he could think of was their kiss upstairs – the way Kate had kissed him back, the soft crush of her breasts against his chest, how wonderful it had felt to hold her in his arms. It was inappropriate to say the least – his father was dead and all he could think about was how much he wanted to take Kate to bed. But he couldn’t forget her warmth, the passion of her kiss. When he had come downstairs and found her sitting on the patio, all he had wanted to do was drag her off to bed and lose himself inside her. It was still all he wanted. Even setting the table together had seemed like an erotic tango, and it had taken gargantuan self-control not to grab her right there. Standing behind her at the counter, hehad longed to touch his lips to the soft skin at the nape of her neck. There had been only a quarter of a centimetre between them and he had yearned to wrap his arms around her and pull her into him… to undo the tie on the halterneck dress she was wearing and let the top fall to her waist… to cup those amazing breasts in his hands… he could almost feel their soft weight in his palms…
‘Will? Are you okay?’ Was it her imagination or was he staring at her breasts?
‘What? Oh yes,’ he said absently.
He was probably in a daze, not focusing on anything, and her chest had just happened to be in his line of vision. Pity. She wished hewasinterested in her breasts. She imagined him undressing her, how marvellous his cool lips would feel on her nipples… She shivered at the thought.
‘Are you cold?’ Will’s voice was husky.
