The Older Man (18 page)

The water was warm from the day’s sun, and the stars brilliant overhead, the moonlight almost like day. Rennie splashed about with the others, and joined in a game with a beach ball that someone had tossed into the water. But she felt cold, and when she came out and ran up the sand to fetch her towel, she was shivering. Huia was sitting in the circle of her husband’s arm chatting to some friends. She said as Rennie towelled herself dry and pulled on her clothes. “Have you got a sweater or something, Rennie? Come into the house and I’ll get one.”

Over Rennie’s protest that she’d soon warm up, the other woman insisted. “I was just going to check on the little ones, anyway. It’s my turn.”

Inside, Rennie accepted the loan of a roomy sweatshirt, and waited for Huia while she looked in on the younger children, who had been put to bed.

“Sound asleep,” Huia reported, smiling, as she rejoined Rennie. “Are you warmer now?”

“Yes, thank you. Has Grant gone home?”

“He said he was afraid his mother wouldn’t hear if the children called. But to tell you to stay as long as you wanted.”

“Still, maybe I should go — “

“It doesn’t take two of you,” Huia said. “He seemed to want you to stay. Come on.” She put her arm about Rennie’s waist. “Enjoy yourself.”

She stayed until after midnight, but when the cheering and kissing and singing were over, she slipped away and trod along the sand on her own. The light was on in the lounge, but it wasn’t until she had quietly climbed the stairs that she realised Grant was still up. He must have been sitting on the long sofa, but as she entered he stood up.

“Have a good time?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you. Huia told me you said for me to stay — “

“Yes. It was only a question, not a criticism. Happy Birthday.”

“And a Happy New Year to you.”

“If I’d realised, I wouldn’t have taken you from your family. You should have said.”

“I didn’t want a fuss. I won’t be able to avoid a party next year, though.” She saw the bottle and glass on the small table beside him. “Have you been drinking alone?”

“A bit. Do I sense disapproval?”

“Of course not. I don’t have the right, anyway. It can’t be much fun, though.”

“Join me if you like. It’s wine. I didn’t bring any whisky.”

“All right,” she said, coming into the room. “I’ll get a glass.”

She fetched one from the kitchen. When she came back he was standing where she had left him, but he had the bottle in his hand. He poured for them both, then lifted his glass. “To you, Rennie.”

“Thank you.”

He drank some of his wine in silence, then turned away from her to gaze out of the big window. Rennie went to stand beside him, but he didn’t look at her. She had finished her wine before he tossed off the rest of his drink in one go and put the empty glass on the table.

As he straightened, she held hers out to him, and he said, “More?”

Rennie shook her head. “No. I should go to bed.”

“Yes. You certainly should.”

She glanced up at him and didn’t move. There was a sudden tension in the room.

He said, “Where did you get the sweatshirt? You didn’t take one with you.”

“Huia lent it to me. She’s nice.”

“They’re a nice couple.”

“Yes. And happy, in spite of the difference in their ages.” She dared to look at him then.

“You can tell that,” he asked mockingly, “on a few days’ acquaintance?”

“I think so. They seem a very happy family.”

“Do you know what people said when Jean and I broke up? ‘We always thought you were such a happy family.’ I don’t know how many times I heard that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For me? Don’t bother. It was as much my fault as anyone’s. Ellen was our last desperate bid at mending the cracks. But that was a mistake. In the end, as Jean pointed out when she was feeling particularly bitter, it only meant that she was left with two children to care for instead of one.”

“She didn’t want them with her?”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t that simple. She would have fought me tooth and nail if I’d gone for custody. She loved them both. She also resented the fact that they existed. And I shouldn’t be talking to you like this. On your birthday, too.” He gave her a faint smile. “It’s the advent of the new year. Makes me think back over the old one, and the ones before. Vain regrets.”

Rennie shook her head. “I don’t mind. I hope you won’t have vain regrets about this year.”

“So do I.”

“You shouldn’t have seen it in on your own,” she said. “The children would have been all right.”

“I know. Mother said she’d leave her door open. But I didn’t want to go back there and watch — “

He stopped abruptly.

“And watch what?”

“Nothing. Just wasn’t in the mood for partying, that’s all.”

She crossed her arms in front of herself and plucked at the baggy sweatshirt. “Well…” She took a step forward. “See you in the morning.”

He nodded stiffly, and she obeyed an insane impulse and stopped before him. “Happy New Year,” she said huskily, and put her hands on his shoulders and pressed her mouth briefly to his.

His lips were cool and unresponsive, but as she stepped away his hands suddenly clamped on her shoulders through the cotton knit. His eyes blazed, and then her head was forced back by his kiss, his fingers biting into her flesh with almost bone-breaking strength. His mouth was ruthless, an invasion and a chastisement, and when he finally released her, she fell back with a hand to her aching lips, her eyes wide with shock.

“You’re all grown up, now,” he told her harshly. “Old enough to know better than to play with fire. Now go to bed.”

Rennie swallowed, dropping her hand. “You had no need to do that!”

“Yes, I did,” he said, his eyes still glittering. “And you asked for it, little girl. So don’t expect me to apologise this time!”

“That’s your whole trouble,” she flashed. “You know I’m not a little girl! You just won’t accept it!”

“If I accepted it,” he said between his teeth, “the way I’m feeling at the moment, believe me, you’d wish that I hadn’t!”

Hurt and disappointed at the way he had broken the mood, she lifted her chin and refused to back down. “Try me!”

There was a heartbeat’s silence, while she wondered if she was quite, quite mad. Because it didn’t take a genius to work out that Grant was nearing the end of his tether, and if she pushed him she wasn’t sure how far he might go. An echo of her mother’s warning sounded in her mind, and she drew a breath, ready to retract the rash words.

Too late. She heard the hiss of his indrawn breath, saw the sudden taut decision in his expression. Then he smiled, but it was a smile that brought to mind icy steppes and prowling wolves. And his voice shivered down her spine as he said in a goaded voice, “All right. Yes, if that’s what you want.”

She closed her teeth as he reached for her, willing away a threatened shiver, telling herself he was right, she’d asked for it, and she wasn’t damned well running away now, begging for mercy like a frightened virgin.

Which was exactly what she was.

He lifted her in his arms, and carried her easily the few steps to the door of his room, shouldered it wide and then shoved it closed behind him.

He dropped her on the bed, and she was shamingly glad that he hadn’t turned on the light. In the distance she could dimly hear the sounds of the party still going on, and moonlight shafted through the window. Grant sat on the bed beside her, pulling off his shoes. Then he leaned across and, with his hands on the borrowed sweatshirt, said, “Let’s have this off, first. Not the sexiest thing I’ve seen you in, darling.”

The endearment should have reassured her. Instead, she had an immediate, irrational desire to cross her arms, which she conquered with difficulty as he hauled the garment off. It was a moment before she realised that the T-shirt underneath had gone with it, leaving only her bikini top and the skirt that had already ridden up past her knees.

Making to lower her arms as he tossed the shirts to the floor, she was stopped by his hands on her wrists, holding them on either side of her head as he studied her in the white moonlight.

Looking back at him, she saw a face that seemed all shadows and angles, the face of a predator. It came towards her, and she closed her eyes, willing herself not to turn her head aside, waiting for his mouth on hers.

Instead, she felt his lips on her throat, moving over her skin, hot and fierce. She took a harsh, gulping breath, trying to say his name, and he muttered something that sounded angry and let go her wrists to place his hands under her, lifting her a little as his mouth travelled down to the curve of her breasts above the bikini top.

Rennie stiffened in nervous anticipation, and when she felt the scrape of his teeth on the tender flesh she flinched and gave a startled little sound.

He lifted his head. “Did I hurt you?”

“N-no,” she admitted, but her heart was beating wildly with fear and excitement.

He said, “Good.” But his hands on her ribs and back were not gentle. He had found the fastening of her skirt, and impatiently parted it, pushing the folds roughly aside as he muttered, “I want to see you.”

He had seen her before, on the beach, dressed — or undressed — as she was now. But it had been very different then. She felt his eyes sear her, even in the semi-darkness, and when he reached for the lamp switch above the bed she said sharply, “No!” Then whispered, as he paused, “Please!”

“Not so bold after all, Rennie?” he taunted quietly, but his hand lowered until it rested on her shoulder, the thumb stroking over the bone.

She bit her lip, unable to think of an adequate reply, and his hand skimmed over the bikini top, across her midriff, down to her hip, firmly shaping her thigh. He shifted down on the bed, and she felt his open mouth on her navel, the tip of his tongue exploring the little spiralling grooves.

She felt herself flush all over, her breath quickening. She moved restlessly and he stopped what he was doing and sat up, one hand still caressing her hip. “Don’t you like that?”

“I — yes, I think so — “

His quiet laughter had an underlying harshness. He slid a finger inside her top, moving back and forth over softness, the tip meeting the hardness at the centre. “I think you do, too,” he said.

He slid his hand round to her back, following the line of the fabric, and finding the fastening, tugging at it. He sat up on his elbow and said, “Take this off for me, Rennie?”

She wished she could discount the implacable note in his voice, forget that so far he had not kissed her since they left the lounge. But after only the briefest hesitation, she reached behind her and unfastened the catch. The top loosened, and she took a quick, calming breath and pulled it off. And closed her eyes.

She had the impression that for a long moment he was holding his breath. Then he said, “Yes. Oh, yes.”

She felt his hands cover her, and her lips parted involuntarily on a muffled moan. She whispered, “Please, Grant, kiss me!”

He did, with his hands still warm on her breasts, and she thought she would die with the sweetness of it. She opened her mouth to him, and felt his tongue thrust demandingly against hers and then his hands moved and slid round behind her and lifted her up to him, her body taut and curved against his.

Her veins were rivers of fire, her heart a singing bird. He shifted on the bed, taking her with him so that her head was at the edge, her long hair flowing almost to the floor, her neck arched. And then he moved down her body, his mouth leaving a slow trail of heat as it burned down her throat, and then to her breast.

When it fastened there, warm and moist and urgent, she cried out, she couldn’t help it. Grant lifted his head and said, “Shh. What is it?”

“It’s all right!” she whispered frantically, but suddenly she was aware of the children sleeping in the next room, of his mother downstairs. Trying to blot them from her mind, she repeated, “It’s all right, I’m — I’m just not used to this — “

His hand scooped into her hair, lifting her head, and he looked down into her bewildered, passion-darkened and slightly frightened eyes.

His own eyes glittering with a complex mix of emotions, he said, “No, you’re not, are you?” And eased her head onto the pillow before removing his hand. He looked away from her into the darkness of the room for a moment, then back at her, making a slow, deliberate, regretful inspection of her near-nakedness. And suddenly rolled on his back, his hands leaving her altogether.

He heaved a long breath into his lungs and said, “I must have been mad. Or drunk more than I realised. I didn’t mean to go so far.”

She eased herself up on the pillow to look at him, fighting an urge to cover herself, feeling terribly exposed now that he was no longer touching her. “If you’re mad,” she said, “so am I. What did you mean to do?”

He sighed. “Teach you a lesson,” he said.

He’d been angry, she knew, perhaps more with himself than her. And he’d meant to frighten her off.

“I’m a fast learner,” she said huskily. She didn’t scare so easily, and she didn’t believe he’d ever have really hurt her — except emotionally. But she’d been nervous of the edge of anger in his lovemaking.

His laugh came bitterly. “I noticed. Hoist with my own petard.” He suddenly swung his legs over the other side of the bed, turning his back on her. “Get dressed and go, will you?”

He was throwing her out. Relief and sharp disappointment mingled. “Class dismissed?” she asked, surprised at the accusation in her own voice. She knelt on the bed to touch his shoulder. “Grant — “

He shook her hand off and stood up. “For God’s sake, Rennie,” he said savagely, “Can’t you see I’m not in a fit frame of mind right now to initiate a virgin?” He swung about to face her. “Get out of here while you still can!”

She held his eyes for a second, then scrambled for her clothes, holding them in front of her as she stumbled out of the room and fled to her own. She flung the clothes into a corner, pulled on her nightshirt and huddled herself under the blankets, furiously wiping hot, stinging tears from her eyes.

In the morning she woke with a thundering headache, and her mirror told her she looked pale and hollow-eyed.