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There was plenty of room for Jason to stretch out across the back seat. He was quickly regaining his spirits following the confrontation he’d had, but Georgie gave him a bit more TLC for good measure, covering him with a blanket so he could sleep through the journey.
They called briefly at Georgie’s flat for her to grab a small bag of gear. Her camera, some toiletries. She didn’t need much. She had plenty of clothes in her old room at Randlethorpe. She sent Justine a text saying she’d been called away and would be in touch. She’d have to do without that advice on not falling for the wrong men, she realized with a wry smile.
By a quarter to six in the morning, they were roaring out of the city, ahead of the daily rush and away to a different landscape altogether. To her surprise, Georgie noticed that when they picked up some speed, it was a much smoother ride than she had expected.
“Hummer wheels,” Cal replied when she quizzed him about it. “Tires this size are a bit of a deviation from the original design, but it really makes it a solid ride, on and off road. Those big babies could stabilize anything.”
Yes, she realized, they were higher than she supposed the vehicle was meant to be, which gave her a great view of the sprawl of the capital and the urban spread beyond, and then later the countryside that was much more familiar to her. Mostly she looked at him driving, though. His shirt flapped open at the collar in the breeze from the open window, and she could see the broad, strong muscles of his chest. He drove with one hand stationed at midday on the wheel, the power to direct the massive vehicle coming from the strong muscle of his upper arm, conveyed through his powerful wrist. His other hand moved between the shift of the gear stick and a stroke on her leg.
She could have watched him driving like that all day long. The skin on her thigh prickled with anticipation each time he moved his hand, eager for his touches. They were going to reach their destination far too soon for Georgie.
* * * * *
Jason sat up, yawning, and looked out at the undulating landscape as the jeep cruised along the rolling road. The beauty of the heart of the English countryside lay resplendent around them. Tall hedges punctuated the subtle gradations of gently sloping countryside, breaking up fields of crops and occasional bunches of woodland. He gathered that they were nearly at their destination.
Georgie was directing Cal, and they were heading up a narrow road lined with tall oaks. It was a private road, and as they passed along it, Jason noticed that Cal glanced over at Georgie, a curious expression on his face. Jason was curious, too. She hadn’t talked much about her background, other than to say that she’d been brought up by her father -- whom she called a minor politician -- and that they lived in the countryside. It looked as if they were about to find out quite a bit more about Georgie girl.
The road suddenly turned and opened out into a huge gravel forecourt. Jason leaned forward between the front seats to get a better look and gave a low whistle of admiration when he saw the house. It was long and low, rambling. Large windows divided the old stones of the building. Ivy covered over half its surface, giving it a look of grandeur and permanence. Five wide shallow steps led up to the front door, which stood open, awaiting their arrival.
As Georgie got out of the jeep, two large red setters appeared from around the corner of the building and bounded over to her, barking loudly and alerting the house to their arrival. She bent down and returned the dogs’ enthusiastic welcomes and then turned back to the two men climbing out of the jeep behind her.
“Here comes Felice. She’s my father’s housekeeper.” She paused. “And, err ... companion.” She winked at them and turned to step into the arms of the woman who had come out to greet them.
Jason looked over at the other woman as he got out of the jeep, expecting a plump and motherly figure to be crushing Georgie into her welcoming arms.
He stopped and did a double take.
Felice was tall and elegant, with a shrewd look about her, a sophisticated woman in her mid-forties. She was wearing patent black shoes and a sleek mahogany-colored pencil skirt with a soft taupe cashmere twin set. Her auburn hair was fastened into a neat fold against the back of her head. A string of pearls slid gently back and forth across the curve of her breasts as she embraced Georgie and kissed both her cheeks in welcome. When she turned her attention to the men, she sidled over while she appraised the two of them.
Jason twitched, involuntarily. Everything about her said refined, yet predatory -- including the blatant look as her gaze raked over his body. She smiled at him and looked as if she were about to devour him whole. Jason was intrigued.
“And your friends, Georgie. You are very welcome.” She offered them each her hand, and Jason allowed its slim, cool embrace to sink into his senses. Her eyes were tawny brown. She smiled at him approvingly when he raised her fingers to his lips.
“Your father won’t be back until this afternoon,” she announced as she led them into the hallway. “And he has to leave very early tomorrow morning; he has a meeting in Brussels. This European Commission advisory work is taking more and more of his time. So much for retirement! But he knows you’re visiting and said he’ll see you later on.”
Georgie took her opportunity. “We’ll rest up until then, in that case. We were at a party until very late last night.”
Felice scanned over the three of them, knowingly, and she nodded. “I’ll show your friends to their rooms. You go and relax.” Felice embraced Georgie again. Their relationship was clearly informal and friendly. When she turned to the men, her smile indicated that she intended to behave that way with them, also. Jason grinned in return, his sorry state of affairs temporarily forgotten.
* * * * *
Georgie’s room was much as she had left it at the start of term. It had been her mother’s favorite room in the house, the one with the best view. She had died when Georgie was a toddler, and Georgie could still recall her father sitting her down and explaining that she was the lady of the house now, so she would have the special room. And it was special. It was large, gracious, and comfortable, decorated in warm autumn colors. It housed a writing desk to one sid
e of a solid oak fireplace, and a large oak four-poster bed. The bed had been her den when she was a child, where she would pull the velvet curtains closed in the winter and pretend she was in a tent somewhere far away. It was her platform for dreams as she grew up, and it looked as inviting as ever, covered in a thick quilt strewn with satin- and velvet-covered cushions in an array of vivid colors. The windows overlooked the gardens and, further away, the rolling fields of the surrounding countryside.
She wandered into the adjacent dressing room. She ran her fingers along the familiar chest of drawers and rails of clothes, smiling up at the shelf full of old teddy bears and her favorite dolls, almost hidden at the top. She hadn’t realized that she had been missing the place, but now that she was here, the familiarity felt good -- especially so as she was able to bring her friends with her for the retreat. A couple of days here would do them a world of good, as well as give the furor surrounding Jason a chance to die down.
She climbed onto the bed intending to doze, but almost as soon as her head touched the pillow, she drifted off into a deep sleep. Her dreams were punctuated with images of the painting and Cal working on it, and when she awoke she felt warm and sleepy yet aroused, her mind awash with images of herself seeking out sexual gratification in front of his watchful eyes. She lay on the bed, one hand behind her head, the other idly stroking her breast inside her cotton shirt. The nipple had been hard when she’d awoken. Since she’d met Cal and they had begun their work on the painting, she’d felt as if she was in a constant state of arousal. It was as if he had introduced her to her true and most sensuous self. Perhaps he had unleashed her deepest desires, she mused to herself. The idea made her purr, but once again she warned herself she would have to be careful with her emotions. He had never indicated he wanted more than what they already had, and she didn’t want to mess that up.
She stood up from the bed, taking off her shirt as she walked to the mirror over the fireplace. She looked at herself, lifting up her hair and turning from side to side, admiring the profile of her pert nipples, tugging upwards on her heavy breasts. She liked this feeling of being aroused and the lack of self-consciousness about it, the perfect freedom of expression that she’d gained with her sexuality over the past few weeks. She wondered where it would lead her. She smiled at her reflection. Her expression glowed, filled as it was with hidden secrets.
It was midafternoon, and the warm sunshine fell behind her in a wedge of golden light across the carpet. Taking off the jeans she had worn on the journey, she wandered into the dressing room. She slipped on a light summer dress that floated around her shins in gossamer strands as she walked. It was cut low and delicate at the neckline, a slip of a thing in pale peach, lightly dappled with fading old gold roses. The small, dainty buttons at her cleavage were all that held it on her body, as if it might float away if they were undone. She had worn it only once before, to a garden party, but it suited her mood today. She felt feminine, at one with the midsummer mellowness and the heavy, ripening boughs of fruit they had seen on the drive there. Ruffling her hair free over her shoulders, she walked toward the window.
Oscar and Hawkeye, the red setters, were lounging under a tree in the garden for shade. Looking further afield, she could see the hedges that marked the end of the tamed gardens, the gate to the more wild gardens and on to the fields beyond. There she saw Cal’s tall, leanly muscled frame moving slowly amongst the long pampas grasses.
She felt an immediate tug inside her, as if a magnet were drawing her to him.
Her hands went up to the glass, and a moment later she turned and left the room, stepping lightly down the stairs to follow him outside.
