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I'd already recognised my feelings for him for what they were—infatuation.
And once that was out of the way I knew I didn't even like him. Anyway--'
She dredged her memory. It all seemed so long ago, so unimportant.
Everything seemed unimportant when set beside the knowledge that the man she loved so desperately had loved her all the time. She pressed her face closer to the wall of his chest, feeling his warmth, the masculine strength of him, the gentleness...
'Anyway,' she continued quickly, anxious to get this out of the way, lay the ghost of her supposed affair with Fenton finally and for ever. 'He seemed to take my rejection fairly well, said he'd like to keep in touch, that sort of thing, suggested we went for a day in the country—we'd done that whenever I could spare time from my studies—I'd always found it relaxing. So, we went. He was driving my car. We had a picnic lunch, explored a ruined castle we came across, began to make our leisurely way home. But he appeared to lose the way and the upshot was, we were approaching some village— Goldingstan—in the early evening. And there was a bridge, and I never knew how it happened, but he seemed to lose control of the car. It wasn't a bad accident—the left wing was crumpled and I ended up with bruised ribs.'
She shivered slightly at the memory, knowing, now, that it had all been set up, carefully planned. 'By the time he'd walked into the village and found a garage willing to tow the car in for a check, it was too late to do anything but stay where we were. I was feeling a bit groggy by then, and sat in the lounge of the Red Lion while he booked us in, explained what had happened, and ordered supper. It was only when he'd taken me up to the room that I discovered he'd booked us in as man and wife. He said there weren't any other rooms available, and I don't know whether I believed him but I did know I wasn't up to making a fuss, finding the landlady and so on. But I didn't sleep with him". I spent the night in an armchair, and for some reason—the aftermath of the shock of the accident, I suppose—I slept right through until eleven next morning when he woke me and told me that the landlady had been knocking on the door because it was time we vacated it.
And that's all there was to it.'
She felt his arms tighten around her, heard him swear, low in his throat, then he murmured, 'It's done with now. You need never worry about him again, I'll see to that.' He released her gently, pushing her upright. 'Are you all right?'
He looked concerned, and she nodded, her heart full, almost hurting with happiness, with her love for him, as she prompted, 'When you read that Fenton was engaged you decided, with him beyond my reach, as you thought, that you'd try to make our marriage work again—but I told you about the baby and you immediately thought--'
'Don't!' he pleaded hoarsely. 'I think 1 was insane with jealousy by then. And now you know why I'm willing to give you the divorce you asked for. I treated you despicably, and divorce is the only thing I can do for you now.'
&nbs
p; He shrugged minimally. 'I think we should go now. I've said more then I ever intended to, bared my soul until it's raw. Soul-searching never suited me!'
His wry attempt at humour, to lighten the anguish he was obviously feeling, made her heart contract with love for him, and there was a shaky smile on her lips as she said, very clearly, so that there could be no mistake, 'I don't want a divorce. I never did. I love you, and I need you, and if you won't believe me,' her voice rose to the kind of wailing quiver that would have appalled her in any other circumstances, 'and if you turn your back on me one more time, I'll--'
Words failed her, no threat too dire to utter, but her throat choked up with tears and laughter and utter, utter relief as she saw incredulity replace blankness, and open joy replace that.
'Do you mean that?' He seemed frozen to the ground, making no move towards her, but she did it for him, going to his arms, clinging, holding him, tears not far away, laughter just below the surface, making coherent speech impossible. But his arms enfolded her and the gentle caress of his hands said more than words. And then, with his broken words of love murmured against her lips, her throat, she told him, with the need of all lovers, exactly how and where and when her love for him had begun, and grown, exactly how it was for her, now, and always. And the sun passed its zenith, the lazy heat of the slow afternoon enfolding them as they clung together, as if neither could bear to release the other. Ever.
It was the Thornwoods' evening off, Cleo remembered as she and Jude entered the empty house later that evening, hand in hand. He turned her, catching her in his arms, and she murmured, 'You know, I think I'm hungry.
Just let me shower, then I'll fix us something to eat.'
'You shower.' She felt him smile against her lips. 'I'll bring something up to the bedroom to appease your appetite.'
And so he did; himself, champagne and two glasses, which was perfect, and Cleo, already reclining against the satin-covered pillows, fresh from her shower and languid with love for him, told him, 'Lovely, I'm ravenous!' and saw his eyes darken with desire, soften with something that came near to adoration.
His eyes wandered over the drift of amber silk that was her neglige, and he turned away with every appearance of regret, telling her as he stripped off his T-shirt, 'I'll be two minutes under that shower, no more. By the time you've poured the champagne I'll be back.'
And he said, over the noise of the water, 'We'll buy Dene Place, shall we?
I've taken a fancy to it. You could say it's where I found you.'
She didn't answer, he wouldn't have heard her if she had. In any case, she didn't need to. They wanted the same things, always would, and they both knew it, now.
And when he came back, the bronze of his skin glistening with a thousand tiny droplets of water, she felt the familiar yet devastating kick of desire in her loins and closed her eyes. Suddenly, stupidly, she felt shy, like a new bride, as if their loving would be for the first time.
'Fiona said,' she uttered thickly, sensing him close, standing over her as she lay back amongst the pillows, 'that you and I didn't have enough gumption between us to figure our way from A to B in the world of the emotions. I think she could have been right.'
'So do I.' His voice was very near now, his clean breath fanning her cheek, and as the mattress depressed beneath his weight and his knowing hands began to remove the silken barrier, working their indescribable magic, he murmured throatily, 'It's a problem we're both going to apply our minds to, aren't we, my darling love? Not to mention our bodies, of course. We'll learn our way from ' A to B together—and far, far beyond. You and I, my love,' his voice deepened, 'are going to be an unbeatable combination.'
