Читать книгу Marriage For Real - Emma Richmond - Страница 9

MOVING her eyes, Sarah stared at the framed photograph of herself and Jed on their wedding day. The camera had caught them staring at each other as though both were surprised at where fate had brought them.

It had been such a magical summer, the summer of the balloon. Walking into the village with all the others from the trip, she had felt immediately at home. Flower-decked balconies, pretty buildings that had looked medieval, and kindness and warmth from the people. The small inn where they had gone for coffee to wait for the support vehicle had been warm and friendly, and she’d impulsively decided to stay. They’d had a small room in the eaves she’d been able to rent very cheaply, and she’d been able to tour Bavaria from a very nice base.

Jed had been staying there, too. At first, he’d been distant, contained, merely giving a small nod when he’d seen her, which, despite the tension he’d generated, had thoroughly irritated her. For days it had gone on like that, until she’d nearly killed him.

She’d been dashing down the stairs in her usual impulsive fashion, and because the stairs had dog-legged, meaning you hadn’t been able to see who’d been coming up if you’d been coming down, there’d been no intimation of danger, only a violent collision on the first landing. Such had been her speed that, even though she’d been lighter than him her momentum had taken them both to the waist-high railing and only his swift action had prevented them both going over into the foyer below. Holding her tight, he’d dropped to the landing and it had been their shoulders that had hit the railing instead of their hips.

Shaking with shock, she’d just stared at him. ‘Sorry,’ she finally apologised breathlessly. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Perfectly,’ he drawled. Getting to his feet, he walked away and she watched him run lightly up the stairs she’d just descended.

Sitting where he’d left her, she continued to stare after him long after he’d gone. ‘Perfectly,’ she echoed to herself. She didn’t think she was all right; she could have killed them both. She could still almost feel the imprint of his hands on her arms, the tension he generated in her, and despite his relaxed manner, his slow drawl, he’d been as tense as she was, hadn’t he?

Still shaking, searching round her for her sketch-pad and charcoal she’d been carrying, she got slowly to her feet and retrieved them. Rather shakily descending the stairs, she went out to her usual seat, and really just for something to do, to take her mind off what had happened, she began sketching a small boy who was playing with a toy car beneath one of the tables. Not that her mind was on what she was doing. It was still on Jed.

The child’s father saw what she was doing, and came over to look.

‘How much?’ he asked in English.

‘Sorry?’

‘How much do you want for it?’

‘As much as you think it worth,’ a deep voice said from behind them.

Swinging round, she stared up at the man she’d just almost injured. ‘No,’ she denied in horror. Shaking her head, smiling at the man, she handed the picture over. ‘Please, you’re very welcome to it.’

Looking absolutely delighted, he thanked her and went back to his own table.

‘Not very businesslike,’ Jed disparaged mockingly.

‘I don’t care. I can’t charge people!’

‘Why?’ he asked. ‘If people want something, let them pay. You’re very good.’

‘Thank you, but I still can’t charge. Anyway, it’s probably illegal. Trading without a licence, or something.’

With a little shrug, he walked off.

Puzzled by his behaviour, wondering why he had spoken when he didn’t normally, and feeling even more shaken by an encounter with a man who was seriously beginning to disturb her, she stared rather blankly down at her pad.

‘You will do one of my wife?’ a soft voice asked.

Snapping her head up in surprise, she stared at the young man before her. ‘Sorry?’

‘Will you please sketch my wife? At that table over there.’ He pointed.

‘Oh, yes, of course.’ A bit bemused, she did as she was asked, and then another for someone else, and then another.

Frau Keller, who owned the inn, and nobody’s fool, took Sarah to one side when she’d finished sketching and offered a proposition.

‘You draw, for one hour or two, a day, and I will pay you. More people come, I make more money. It’s good for business.’

‘Oh,’ Sarah said inadequately.

Frau Keller grinned. ‘Yes?’

‘Am I allowed to take money?’ she asked dubiously. ‘Don’t I have to have a permit or something?’

Frau Keller made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. ‘You stay here rent-free, then. Meals included. Now you be happy?’

Relieved, Sarah smiled. ‘Yes. Thank you.’ If she didn’t actually take money, it was probably all right.

‘Good, all is settled. Go draw. More people are waiting.’

And so she did. She also wondered if Jed had been behind the offer, and then dismissed the thought. Why would he bother? He didn’t even seem to like her. And she strongly doubted he spent any time thinking about her the way she continually thought about him. Every moment not taken up with something else, he was in her thoughts. Irritated and alarmed, she wanted to touch him, discover what it would be like to press her mouth to his, and she kept thinking she ought to go away, leave, before she made a fool of herself. Maybe she would have done if he hadn’t come to her room that day. That very hot day.

She’d been out with a party of tourists who had been staying at the hotel. Returning to the inn, hot, sticky, she’d run up to her room in the eaves, longing only for a shower and a cold drink. She’d opened all the windows, left the door open to create a draft, and gone into the minuscule bathroom, the door of which was beside the main door. She emerged naked a few minutes later just as Jed walked in. They met; in fact they collided, and he automatically put out his hands to save her, or himself.

Time slowed, almost to a stop, as they stared at each other, and then he kissed her. No obvious forethought, no plan, he just kissed her. With hunger, as though he had been wanting to do so for a very long time.

The initial contact had jerked her into stiffness, but as his mouth continued to touch hers, gentle and persuasive, she shuddered and flung her arms round his neck and kissed him back as though her very life depended on it. She didn’t know how long they kissed; it seemed like an eternity. She was aware of his hands on her naked back, aware that he held something, and then a stray gust of wind blew the door shut, and they both jumped, jerked apart.

He stared at her for what seemed a very long time, and then he apologised. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Why?’ she asked thickly.

He didn’t answer, merely gave a rather wry smile. ‘There was a letter for you…’ he began as he removed one hand from her back. ‘Frau Keller asked if I would deliver it.’ His eyes held hers, steady, unemotional, waiting, or so it seemed.

She stared at the white envelope he held in blank confusion, then stared back at him, at his naked chest beneath his unbuttoned shirt, and could think of nothing else. Want nothing else. Ignoring the letter, she touched her mouth to his collar-bone, the base of his throat, and the breath he took was deep, ragged. Her damp breasts were against his flesh, her bare thighs against the edge of his shorts, and she wanted him naked, as she was.

‘No,’ he said softly as he put her away. Pressing the letter into her hands, he turned, opened the door, and walked out.

Shaking, she stared at the closed door. She’d just propositioned him, hadn’t she? And been turned down. Embarrassed, mortified, she slumped down on the side of the bed. But he’d kissed her first, hadn’t he? Why? Because she was there? Naked? Available? She’d never thrown herself at a man in her life. Staring down at the letter she held in her hands, she shuddered.

He hadn’t looked at her body, that was something. He’d kept his eyes on her face. Did that make it better? She had no idea. His wry smile had been a bit shaken, his muscles tense. But not as tense as hers. His girlfriends were probably sophisticated, elegant—experienced. They would have laughed at his kiss, said something witty. And what had she done? Nothing. And now he’d gone.

How would she face him next time they met? Bravely? As though nothing had happened? Avoid him? Yes, that would be best. Except she didn’t need to. Over the next two days he was never anywhere in sight. His door remained closed, his table outside, empty. Perhaps he was avoiding her. And she couldn’t stop thinking about him, looking for him, going over and over in her mind the way he had kissed her. She could still feel it. Taste it. She’d been kissed a great many times in her life, but no one had ever made her feel like that. So special. So abandoned when he’d left.

And then, on the third day, she saw that his door was open. With no real knowledge of what she was going to do, say, she walked slowly along the landing towards it. She stood outside it for ages, just waiting, breathing slowly, and then she tapped softly. No answer. Pushing the door gently wider, she peeked inside. His room was slightly larger than her own, his bed wider, and there was room for a small table beneath the window. There was a computer, a stack of papers, and, hesitating only momentarily, she walked quietly inside.

‘Jed?’ she called softly.

Nothing.

There were no sounds from the bathroom, just noises from outside filtering up through the open window. She didn’t really remember walking to the desk, or even picking up the top sheet from the stack of papers. She really didn’t think she had been going to read it; it was just that the words seemed to leap out at her.

There has been talk of a bridge, but in this summer of 1827, if one wants to cross the river to Oberammergau, then one must brave the 250-foot gorge on a raft pulled by oxen. Courage, after all, I tell myself, is only the fear of looking foolish.

‘You wanted something?’ Jed asked quietly from behind her.

With a little cry of alarm, she dropped the paper as though it were hot, and then bent to quickly retrieve it and put it back on the desk. Warily turning to face him, she began inarticulately, ‘I…You weren’t here…’

‘No,’ he agreed unhelpfully as he stood in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee in one hand.

‘Your door was open…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I’d better go.’

He stepped to one side and she began edging towards the door. Halting on the threshold, her back to him, she blurted, ‘I can’t stop thinking about you.’ When he didn’t answer, she turned slowly to face him. ‘I keep thinking that maybe the kiss wasn’t so special, maybe it was just my imagination, maybe it didn’t make me feel as I thought I felt…Sorry,’ she apologised with a shaky smile. ‘I must sound like a teenager. I’m not usually so…I mean, I don’t…’

‘Don’t you?’ he asked softly.

‘No. Why did you kiss me, Jed?’

‘Because I couldn’t help myself?’

Eyes wide, she just stared at him.

‘You’re a very attractive young woman.’

‘Am I?’ she asked stupidly.

His mouth quirked. ‘Yes. Go away, Sarah, I’m too old for you.’

‘No.’

‘Yes. I sometimes think I was born old. I’m too cynical, too selfish and I’ll probably end up hurting you.’

‘You don’t know that…’

‘Yes, I do.’

Still staring at him, wanting him, wishing she had more experience in these matters, she murmured, ‘You didn’t like me when we first met, did you? Your immediate reaction was…’

‘Worry,’ he said with soft amusement.

‘Worry?’

‘Mmm. You stared at me with those big brown eyes, and I knew you were going to be trouble.’

‘You were attracted?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then…’

‘No.’

‘Then you obviously don’t feel as I feel,’ she said almost crossly.

He smiled. ‘Oh, I expect I do.’

‘But you’re very strong-willed?’ she asked waspishly.

‘Very.’

‘I’m not asking you to marry me!’

‘What are you asking?’

Hesitating only momentarily, she murmured, ‘To get to know you better.’

Placing his by now probably cold cup of coffee on the desk, he asked quietly, ‘How old are you, Sarah?’

‘Twenty-four, nearly twenty-five.’

‘You look younger.’

‘Well, I’m not! And if you’re attracted to someone, well, I mean, it’s a natural progression to…’

‘Kiss?’

‘Yes.’

‘You know what will happen if we do?’

‘I hope so,’ she admitted barely audibly. ‘Please?’

‘You’d better close the door,’ he instructed softly.

Breath hitching in her throat, her eyes held by his, she reached shakily out and closed it. ‘Now what?’

‘Now you come here.’

Staring at him, clear distress in her eyes, she managed, ‘To make me feel cheap?’

‘No,’ he denied gently. ‘To try and make you realise what a fool you’re being.’

Staring down at her linked hands, she whispered, ‘You don’t really want me, do you? I’d better go.’ Turning, she grasped the door handle, and then hesitated. ‘I think I came to tell you I was leaving,’ she mumbled. ‘There’s a bus on Saturday.’ Opening the door, she halted again and turned to give him a rather shaky smile. ‘It is allowed to make a fool of yourself once in a while, isn’t it? It’s part of growing up. Goodbye, Jed.’

Hurrying out, she ran along to her own room and closed the door. Heart beating overfast, feeling stupid and young, she collapsed onto the side of the bed, and then stiffened and looked warily up as the door opened and Jed walked in.

‘I shall probably regret this,’ he said softly. ‘I just pray that you don’t.’ Closing the door, he walked across to her, sat beside her, tilted her chin up with one finger, and kissed her. A soft, gentle, mesmerising kiss. A kiss she was entirely incapable of resisting.

When he lifted his head, she just stared at him. ‘Do you want me? Really?’

For answer, he lay her back across the bed and began to kiss her properly, with experience and expertise, and hunger.

Touching his face, his neck, his back with compulsive little movements, she shook with need and a slight fear. When he finally raised his head, she whispered, ‘I don’t normally behave like this, but you make me feel—things,’ she added vaguely. ‘I couldn’t get you out of my mind. Couldn’t forget the way you touched me.’

‘And you think I can? I’ve been resisting you since you landed at my feet. I should be resisting you now…’

‘Then why aren’t you?’

‘Because, like you said, perhaps it is allowed to be a fool once in a while.’

‘And making love to me would be foolish?’

Tracing one finger round her gentle face, moving aside the wisps of hair that had escaped from her topknot, he said quietly, ‘I don’t want to hurt you…’

Putting her hand over his mouth, she said, ‘You don’t know that you’ll hurt me.’

‘No,’ he agreed.

‘Are you afraid that I’ll be like that woman in Fatal Attraction?’

He gave a quirked smile. ‘No.’

‘I won’t hassle you…’

‘You already hassle me.’

‘You don’t behave as though I do.’

‘No,’ he agreed, but didn’t explain why.

‘I’m not very sophisticated.’

‘No,’ he agreed gently.

‘Or experienced.’

Staring down into her big brown eyes, he gave a helpless sigh. He said something that she didn’t catch, and then he kissed her again. So gently, so thoroughly, so mind-bendingly sweet that she felt tears prick her eyes.

Not wanting to talk any more, with her heart beating overfast and her hands shaking, she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and he began to undress her, slowly, methodically, eyes holding hers.

Feeling light-headed and wanton, barely able to breathe, she gave in to bliss.

He was so gentle, his hands so sure and experienced, and there was comfort in the fact that he was shaking too. And so began a time of magic. For her, at any rate; she had never been entirely sure about Jed. He wasn’t one given to laughter, or extravagance. He was more wry smiles and quiet amusement. She didn’t know what he thought of her behaviour; he never said. Neither did he ever say he loved her. Not then. But they were happy, and, although he never said the words she wanted increasingly to hear, he was never a reluctant lover. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Rarely looking to the future, always living for the day, she teased him, laughed at him, and made love to him with an energy he said he found astonishing.

She would leave him alone during the day whilst he worked. She would visit the friends she had made in the village, go touring by bus or bicycle. Sometimes he would go with her, show her places he had been, and in the evenings, in the warm velvet darkness of the night, they would be together, their lovemaking sometimes urgent, sometimes languorous. How long it would have gone on for if she hadn’t become pregnant, she had no way of knowing. Perhaps they would have married anyway, or perhaps they would have parted and it would have been just a wonderful memory of a magical summer.

Looking back, she knew the probable date she conceived. August twenty-fourth. They had both taken part in the yearly organised walk in King Ludwig’s footsteps, and at dusk, when the bonfires had been lit, when the world had turned red with the reflected glow off the mountain peaks, he had led her back to the inn for the party that had followed.

Eventually, they’d gone up to his room, to his big bed. Maybe they’d drunk too much wine, maybe the warmth of his mouth against hers, the heat of his slender body, had overridden the precautions they’d been taking. She had known him four months, and she’d loved him. Hadn’t been able to imagine a time when she would not be with him.

She’d hesitated a long time before telling him about the baby, and she truly hadn’t wanted to pressurise him, make him feel that he’d had to marry her, and yet, thinking about it now, perhaps she had forced him into marriage. Perhaps subconsciously she had known that his honour, his sense of responsibility, would have made him insist.

And perhaps it would have been all right if her pregnancy hadn’t been so awful, if she hadn’t felt so ill. Sick all the time, irrational, spotty. Hormones, the doctor had said sympathetically, but even knowing what it had been hadn’t stopped her being horrendous, had it? Shouting at Jed, blaming him, bursting into tears all the time…She still was crying all the time. And then contrite, begging his forgiveness. And he’d been so kind, gentle—long-suffering? She’d expected him to know what she’d been feeling without being told. Expected him to dance attendance, and yet, never by look, or deed, had he ever intimated that he regretted marrying her. Maybe if her parents had been alive, things would have been different. But there had been only Gran and it hadn’t seemed fair to drag her out to Bavaria just because her granddaughter had been having a baby. People had babies all the time. Childish, she told herself. You were childish. Spoilt. A spoilt little girl. And underlying it all, there had been guilt. Guilt that somehow it had been all her fault. Guilt for what she’d been doing to him, changing his life when he probably hadn’t wanted it changed. And she’d felt resentful, she admitted, that everything had been spoilt. Her happy-go-lucky, carefree existence, all gone.

She’d had a lot of growing up to do, hadn’t she?

And then had come the fateful trip to Scotland. She had insisted on going with him. He’d begged her to stay in Bavaria with their friends whilst he did his research for the next book; insisted that he wouldn’t be gone long, but no, she’d had to go with him. Poor man. Couldn’t even get away for a few weeks of peace and quiet. She’d insisted on doing the driving that day so that he could make notes…Another row—no, not a row. She’d shouted, and he’d gone all quiet. She hadn’t been going fast because the road had been winding and hilly. There had been a steep ravine on one side, mountainous outcrops on the other. Then the child had run out onto the road on a bend; a child from a family that had parked to admire the view, and had allowed their three-year-old daughter to get out and stretch her legs. There had been nowhere for Sarah to drive but off the road…

If the safety barrier hadn’t already been weak from a previous accident; if the road hadn’t been wet…It had all happened so fast with no time to think, plan. They’d crashed through the barrier, sailed out into nothing, and hit a tree. The passenger side had borne the brunt of it, and Jed had sustained severe muscle and nerve damage to his left leg, a gashed forehead, concussion—and she’d lost the baby, which had meant that the reason for their marriage no longer existed. And that was what frightened her so. Only she hadn’t been able to tell the doctor that, had she? When he’d gone on about there being other babies, explained about hormone imbalances, about shock and grief…

The soft tap at the door made her start, and she swung round almost guiltily as the door opened, her eyes swimming with tears.

‘Oh, Sarah!’ Jed exclaimed raggedly. ‘You can’t go on like this.’