Love and Devotion (44 page)

When they were just feet away from the end of his garden, Harriet slipped her arm out from his. ‘Oh no you don’t,’ he said. ‘My reputation as a gentleman will be shot to pieces if I don’t see you home safely.’

‘And mine too as a modern, independent young woman if I let you.’

‘Fair point. In that case, let’s compromise. I’ll walk you as far as the footpath. There, that’s my final offer.’

‘There’s no need.’

‘I agree. But humour an old-fashioned guy.’

Minutes later they were standing at the entrance to the footpath and she had her hands pushed into her jacket pockets. He wished now that he’d suggested a nightcap or a cup of coffee when they’d been standing at the end of his garden. Behind them the canal was sleek and dark and above them the sky was immensely vast: it was a perfect night and he really didn’t want it to finish.

‘Well, then,’ he said, playing for time and desperately thinking if there was anything else he could talk about to keep her longer. ‘I’m sorry the evening was such a disaster.’

‘Please don’t keep apologising. I enjoyed the walk.’

‘Really? I should try that old dead-battery trick more often.’

Her mouth curved into a soft smile. ‘I mean it. It brought back memories.’

‘Not painful ones, I hope.’

She shook her head. ‘Mostly happy memories.’ But as she said this, the smile melted from her face and she looked ineffably sad. He suddenly felt a tremendous surge of tenderness for her, and without thinking what he was doing, he put his arms around her and kissed her.

 

 

 

 

It was a mistake. A colossal error of judgement. He knew it the second her body stiffened in his arms and her lips, cold and unresponsive, felt like stone against his. As she continued to stand rigidly impassive, klaxon bells went off inside his head.
Stop! What the hell do you think you’re doing? She’ll kill you, you idiot!
Then there was an excruciating moment when he lowered his arms and stepped away from her, and she simply stared back at him. There was no anger or horror in her face, just a look of such terrible blankness he felt more humiliated than if she’d slapped him.

‘I’d rather you didn’t ever try that again,’ she said. She turned and walked away. He wanted to rush after her and say how sorry he was, or at least explain himself, but the sight of that funny little stalky bit on the top of her beret, combined with her dignified exit, rooted him to the spot. Unable to move, he watched her disappear round the corner and into the darkness of the footpath. There was no backward glance, no conciliatory gesture to say that there was a snowball’s chance in hell that he’d ever be forgiven. He’d blown it. But then so what? What had he thought would come of it, anyway?

 

Halfway along the footpath, Harriet came to a stop. She was breathless and jangly. What the hell had happened back there? Why had he kissed her? And why had she reacted like that? Why had she experienced ... she hesitated, hardly able to put it into words. It was all too strange. All so unexpected. The nearest she could get to describing what she’d felt was to say there had been a sudden weakening sensation deep within her, as if something sore and tender inside her chest had been touched. She had been so startled by her reaction that she had frozen in his arms and forced her brain to evaluate what was going on. When this had failed, she had decided retreat was the best course of action.

Her breath forming in the cold night air, she mentally scrolled through the evening. Had there been earlier warning signs that he wanted to kiss her? At the house? The pub? He’d certainly been keen to hold her hand once they were on the towpath, but she’d thought that had been a chivalrous thing, like the way her father insisted that he walked on the roadside edge of the pavement. ‘A gentleman has to shield the lady from the splashes caused by the carriages,’ he used to say.

Had there been other moments when Will had wanted to kiss her? She couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t in her nature to be always clocking up the attention she attracted. Spencer used to tease her that she wouldn’t know a guy coming on to her if he stripped naked and threw himself at her feet. Apparently he’d been dropping hints that he fancied her from the minute he’d joined the firm, but she hadn’t noticed. Over the years, Dominic had frequently accused her of living like a nun. What was it he’d said of her in Dublin? Oh, yes, that she had a frosty streak of self-denial. Even Felicity had teased her for being so restrained. She suddenly felt crushed. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she be more like everybody else? Why wasn’t she more sexually aware? More in tune with her body?

Once again she was reminded of the hurt of being rejected by Spencer. Was it possible that if she’d meant more to Spencer he wouldn’t have walked away? He’d have hung in there and helped her all that he could. The word ‘love’ had never been mentioned between them, but then nor had lust, or passion, or desire, or any of those other words Miles and Felicity had been so fond of using in their emails. Sex with Spencer had been adequate, she now saw. Very quickly into their relationship they had slipped into the routine of making love after supper, never before, and never too late. Rarely first thing in the morning, either. Spencer had been a real sleep faddist and had to have his eight hours minimum. Looking back, there had been a predictable sameness to their relationship. At the time she had thought it suited her perfectly, that it was a part of her life she could neatly compartmentalise.

It was not an edifying discovery, but she had to face up to the truth: she wasn’t a very exciting or loving person. And the net result of that, surely, had to be that she was unlovable. She would never experience the adoration her sister had experienced for the simple reason that she was incapable of giving it out herself. If Dominic was to be believed, she lacked emotion and spontaneity. As unpalatable as it was, Harriet had to admit that she was dull and unsexy. Could there be a worse crime in this sex-obsessed age?

Yet Will had wanted to kiss her. She put a hand to her lips and touched them as if recalling his mouth against hers. Why had he done it? And why, more importantly, had it provoked that weakening sensation? Try as she might, she could not recall another man kissing her eliciting such a perplexing response.

There was only one logical way to find out what had caused it. Turning back the way she’d just come, she retraced her steps, all the way to the end of Will’s garden. If she was going to do this, it had to be now. Leave it until tomorrow, and she’d lose her nerve. For the second time in the last two days she was acting out of character. Yesterday she had deliberately invited Will to see the house in front of Miles to get at him, to prove some twisted kind of point: See, I don’t need you, I have plenty of other friends. Friends who don’t lie and cheat on people. Friends who don’t treat me as second best. Within hours she was regretting freezing Miles out like that. It was no way to treat an old friend. Or a new friend, for that matter. Using Will to score a point was cheap and unworthy.

It was when they were at the house and Will had asked her to go for a drink with him that she had undergone a moment of epiphany. She suddenly realised what it was about Will that she liked. He took her for who and what she was: Harriet Swift. He had never known her sister, therefore he hadn’t and never would make a comparison. She would never be second best in his eyes. Spencer and Erin had both met Felicity and they had both independently made the same comments she had heard for most of her life - that Harriet was quieter than Felicity, that Harriet was shorter than Felicity, that Harriet was more serious than Felicity.

But that would never happen with Will.

She looked up at his house. There were lights on downstairs. Good, he hadn’t gone straight to bed. She pushed open the gate, walked the length of the garden with a purposeful stride, her eyes straining in the dark to pick out anything that might trip her up, and knocked on the back door. This is a first, she told herself, a spontaneous first. This would show Dominic!

The door opened just as she was about to raise her hand and knock once more. ‘Harriet?’ He couldn’t have sounded more surprised.

‘May I come in?’

He looked confused. Alarmed, even. Is that what she did to people? ‘Yes. Of course.’ He stood back to let her in. ‘I was just having a drink. Would you like one?’

‘No thanks.’

He shut the door after her, then raked both his hands through his hair. ‘Look, I’m sorry about what I did. I should never have tried it on. I don’t know what I was thinking.’

‘Please, I haven’t come here for an apology.’

‘Really? Why then? Has something happened? An accident ? The children? Do you need to use the phone?’

She shook her head.

‘What then?’

‘I need you to do something for me.’

‘Oh. Okay. What is it?’

She swallowed. ‘I need you to kiss me again.’

He opened his eyes wide. ‘What?’

‘Please don’t make this any more difficult for me than it already is. I want you to kiss me like you did before.’

‘Is this some kind of crazy trick? Because if so, I ought to point out that entrapment’s against the law.’

‘Just kiss me, Will. And no funny business,’ she added, after an agonising moment had passed while he seemed to be making up his mind whether to go along with her request.

He came towards her, slowly. Inches from her face, he tilted his head, but then pulled back and looked at her questioningly, a slight frown creasing his brow. ‘You’re sure about this?’ he asked. He suddenly sounded as nervous as she was.

‘Yes,’ she murmured. And with her eyes open - she didn’t want to miss anything - she braced herself for his touch: first his arms and then his lips. They felt different this time, warmer and softer. Perhaps a little more tentative. She could taste wine, too. His arms felt different. Firmer. More solid. He wasn’t wearing his jacket, which meant she could feel the warmth of his body through his shirt. She could even feel his heart beating.

Her heart gave a surge and an aching tenderness filled her chest. Next a flood of warmth swept through her. It was like the sun bursting through the clouds. It was at this moment, on the towpath, that Will had pulled away. She didn’t want that to happen this time and so she put her arms round him, closed her eyes and hoped he’d keep on kissing her. Except now she was kissing him, opening her mouth wide against his, wanting the warmth to go further within her, wanting him never to stop kissing her.

But he did. ‘Hey there,’ he said, ‘you’ve got to breathe sometime. First rule of kissing in this house. Especially for asthmatics.’

At the sound of his voice and the touch of his hands on her face, she opened her eyes and found herself staring into his. They were the darkest shade of brown she’d ever seen. She took a deep breath, realising that he was right: breathing was a good idea.

‘I don’t wish to appear nosy,’ he said, while straightening her beret, ‘but was there any particular reason why you wanted me to kiss you? After all, you did say I wasn’t to do it again.’

‘I ... I wanted to know if I’d imagined something.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘And had you?’

‘No.’

‘Would you like me to do it again? Just to be sure?’

She nodded, suddenly shy.

‘Presumably it’s the same drill as before?’ he said. ‘No funny business?’

‘Depends what you mean by funny business,’ she murmured, lowering her gaze.

‘Miss Swift, are you flirting with me?’

‘I would if I knew how.’

‘Now you’re just fishing.’ He tipped her chin up. ‘But I’ll carry out your bidding, if you’ll come through to the other room.’

Terrified that her nerve might give out somewhere between the kitchen and sitting room, Harriet said, ‘Here is fine.’

He looked amused and ran a finger over her lips. She shivered, slipped her hands round his neck and pulled him down to her. Almost immediately this time she was filled with the euphoric warmth that seemed to fill her from head to toe. She clung to this extraordinary man who could do this to her, no longer caring what she was doing, or what the consequences would be. All that was important was that Will didn’t stop what he was doing. Without once ever letting go of her, he manoeuvred her out of the kitchen and along the hallway, bumping and crashing against walls and pieces of furniture. She thought he was going to take her upstairs, but instead he pushed open the sitting-room door and took her in there.

She had been undressed many times before, but never by a man as deft as Will. Or was she just too drunk on erotic desire to notice her clothes slipping away? They were on the floor. Music was playing. She leaned over to kiss Will but he resisted and, proving again how deft he was, in one easy move he tilted her onto the carpet and began kissing her. At the same time he gently parted her legs with his hand and made her gasp as he slid a finger inside her. For a split second she tensed, but as his tongue pushed further into her mouth and the palm of his hand pressed against her, she relaxed and gave in to his touch. With a swiftness she’d never experienced before, she was arching her back on the brink of climaxing. Too soon, she told herself. Much too soon. What about him? She tried to distract herself, but it was no use, the wave was getting nearer. ‘Stop,’ she begged.

‘What, and spoil all the fun?’ he whispered in her ear. He carried on, slowly, rhythmically, expertly, but now he was watching her face intently. His eyes, even darker now, had a strange look in them; an absorbed, mysterious look she couldn’t fathom.

‘But what about you?’ she moaned as the wave came closer.

‘Ssh ... stop worrying. Concentrate on enjoying yourself.’

She did as he said and when it came, it was like nothing she had ever experienced before. It was a tsunami, the mother of all tidal waves. And just at the point when the orgasm took hold of her, he kissed her so deeply she was suddenly adrift from all her senses, swept away by something so powerful the blood pulsed in her head and she thought she was going to pass out. For minutes afterwards she lay quivering in his arms, fearing her body would never feel the same again. Finally, she broke the silence and said, ‘What was that?’