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She was only saying what he already knew to be true, and yet he felt as shocked as though his guts had been splintered with ice picks. She couldn't do this! He wasn't ready to let her go. He needed her here with him. He should, he knew, be feeling relieved, but instead he felt more as though he had suffered a mortal blow. Pain rolled over him in mind-numbing waves, crashing through him and drowning out reason, spreading its unbearable agony to every part of him. He could hardly think of it do anything other than try somehow to survive its rapacious teeth as it savaged him and tormented him.
How could this have happened? How could he be experiencing this? The thoughts and feelings that filled him were so new and unfamiliar that they made him feel as though he was suddenly a stranger to him-self. He felt like a man possessed by...by what? He shook his head, unable to allow the word pulsing in his heart to form. He had wanted it to happen, he had wanted her to leave. But not like this...He'd wanted to be the one to tell her to go...But how? That he didn't want her here because he was afraid that she would come between him and his duty? His whole body shuddered as the pain savaged it once more.
Why didn't Marco say something, anything? Emily worried anxiously.
What could she say without risking betraying the truth?
‘I loved the life we shared together in London. Marco. But things are different here. The time we're sharing together is borrowed time, stolen time, perhaps; she told him sadly. It’s better that I go now.’
Marco could feel the heavy drum of his heartbeat thudding out a requiem for their relationship as he heard the finality in her voice.
‘There'll never be anyone else in my life like you. Marco, nor a relationship to match the one we've shared.'
The words felt as though they were being ripped from her like a layer of her skin, but she couldn't hold them back; they were after all the truth, even though she knew she was a fool for having said them.
But it didn't matter now that she was compounding that error by lifting her hand to his face, tears burning at the backs of her eyes as she felt the familiar texture that was hard with the beginnings of his beard against the softness of her palm.
‘Emily.'
He had caught hold of her hand before she could stop him lifting it to his lips and then dropping it when he felt her tremble, to pull her bodily into his arms and then plunder her mouth with his own. Not that she made any attempt to resist him. Instead, she gave him the sweetness he was demanding whilst she clung helplessly to him.
Few people visited this part of the island, and Marco realised that an irresistible need was flooding through him to know the intimacy of sex on this wild headland. He couldn't let her go without this one last time, a final memory he would have to make last a lifetime of days and nights once he was without her. There had been many many times when their pleasure had been more sensual and more sustained, when he had deliberately set himself the task of pleasing her. But no time had ever been more intense than this, or more emotional. Because this was the last time that finally he could give to himself what he had previously so rigidly denied, and that was the right to feel with his emotions what he was feeling with his flesh.
This was too much. Emily told herself. She just wasn't strong enough to endure this kind of passion. It was as though Marco had wrenched away, with his clothes, the barrier she had always sensed he kept raised against her.
As they lay together on the lavender-scented turf, the sun warming their naked bodies, the kisses he lavished on her body were hot and fierce with a desire that went beyond the merely physical. As though by shared consent neither of them spoke. What words were there to say after all? Emily wondered, with dry-eyed hurt.
Words would only be lies or worse, create wounds. It was better this way that their last memory of one another was one filled with a shared but unspoken awareness of what they’d shared and what they would never have again. It seemed to Emily as she touched him that she had never loved him more. Something within her that was maybe both lover and prospective mother, swelled her heart with bitter-sweet emotion.
They kissed and touched, their lips clinging, their bodies urgent, trying desperately to hold onto every second of their pleasure. But like sand, it could not be held, running swiftly through their fingers instead as Emily’s cries of pleasure became soft sighs of contentment.
She would treasure her memories of this day for the rest of her life. She smiled lazily up at Marco as he leaned over her.
‘I don't want you to leave.’
Marco had no idea where the words had come from. No! That was lie. He knew exactly where they had come from and why. And even if he hadn't, the heavy pounding of his heart would have told him. What on earth was he doing, when he had already decided that she must go? What had happened to him to make him want to change his mind on the strength of a few minutes of good sex? he derided himself. But it wasn't the good sex he didn't want to lose—it was Emily herself.
