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His touch brought out a rash of goosebumps, the tiny hairs on her arm standing on end as she shook with a delicate shudder. She saw his eyes darken and his body tense as it responded to the signals of her own and felt desire flower inside her as she realised that he shared her need.
He had booked a table at a restaurant several miles away in a peaceful riverside setting.
Lucy knew it by repute but had never dined there before, and because it was only early in the week the dining-room was only pleasantly full.
When they didn’t have drinks in the bar but went straight to their table, Lucy thought that Saul must be hungry, but as she was studying the menu an ice bucket and champagne arrived.
‘As far as your book’s concerned, I don’t know yet whether this will be to celebrate or commiserate,’ he told her softly as the waiter filled their glasses with the foaming liquid. ‘But I certainly want to celebrate my good fortune in being here with you tonight, Lucy.’
The champagne slid coolly down her throat, fizzing intoxicatingly, the texture deliciously dry.
They drank to one another, and then to Lucy’s book, when she told him how well her meeting had gone.
She ordered melon sorbet to start with, followed by salmon, ridiculously delighted when Saul chose the same. It seemed a good omen that their tastes should be so much in accord.
Knowing the reputation of the restaurant Lucy was sure the meal was a poem of epicurean delight, but she barely registered it; she was too absorbed in Saul, in listening to him, in just simply watching him.
He caught her doing so once, their eyes meeting, locking in a way she thought belonged only to the world of films. Her heart seemed to stop completely, and then bound into ecstatic life as Saul reached across the table to curl his fingers round her own.
‘I can’t believe this is happening.’
His words echoed her own thoughts and she grimaced faintly. ‘I know… It seems faintly ridiculous.’
‘Ridiculous?’ He looked at her and then shook his head. ‘No. Miraculous, maybe… but ridiculous—never. I’ve waited a long time to feel this way about someone, Lucy, and now that I do I want to savour every moment of it… every second… We won’t rush things, grabbing greedily at sexual fulfilment before we’ve tasted all the delicate ancillary pleasures of courtship. I’m twenty-nine years old and I want more from this relationship than sex.’
‘More?’ Her voice sounded husky and unsure. What was he trying to say to her? ‘What sort of more?’
She watched him smile, knowing with an involuntary ache that no matter how long her life might be she would never forget the way he smiled.
‘Oh, commitment… permanence… That sort of more.’ He said it teasingly, but his eyes were serious. Her heart jolted and lurched within her.
‘I’m rushing you—something I promised I wouldn’t do. I don’t want to frighten you off. Let’s talk about your book.’
‘I want to talk about you,’ Lucy wanted to protest, but she felt too weak to argue, to do anything other than follow his lead. Was this love? This heady, almost delirious feeling that possessed her; this ridiculous happiness that invaded her simply because they were together?
It was late when they left the restaurant. Because he was driving Saul had insisted that Lucy finished off the champagne, and on top of the wine they had had with their meal and the brandy after it, it had made her feel faintly tipsy.
Sauls’ hand closed over hers as they walked to the car, his arms coming round her as they stopped beside it, his mouth warm as it feathered softly on hers.
The urge to cling to him and go on clinging almost overwhelmed her and she had to fight to remind herself that they were standing in a public car park, and to step away from him as his mouth completed its languorous exploration of hers.
‘Very wise,’ he teased softly, letting her go. ‘Otherwise I might have forgotten all my good intentions.’
‘Maybe that’s what I’d like you to do—somewhere more private.’ She could hardly believe the provocatively husky words had come from her tongue, but they had, and judging by Saul’s arrested expression and glinting eyes, he was nowhere near as shocked by them as she was herself. Quite the contrary.
‘One day, not very far from now, I’m going to remind you of those words,’ he promised her, releasing her to unlock the car door.
They were more than halfway back before the heated excitement had faded from her blood. She wanted him quite desperately, she recognised, to the extent that if he took her home with him now, she would willingly go with him.
The Dower House was reached all too quickly. Neither of them had spoken since getting in the car, but words had been completely unnecessary. As Saul brought the car to a halt, Lucy hesitated.
