Voice of the Heart (35 page)

Katharine broke the silence and his train of thought. ‘If you don’t want anything else to eat, I think I’ll take these dishes away, Kim darling.’ She sat up abruptly as she spoke, and made a move to rise.

‘No. No, I’ll do it,’ Kim cried, stubbing out his cigarette and leaping to his feet. ‘You stay here and take it easy. It won’t take me a minute; I’m a dab hand at this. Francesca’s expert drilling over the years.’ Before she could protest he had gently pushed her against the mound of pillows and was collecting some of the plates of food.

Katharine did as he said, lying back and closing her eyes, endeavouring to relax. But she was finding it difficult to do so, as she had since leaving the theatre. Her brain was far too busy. Deep down in her heart of hearts, she was truly fond of Kim, and cared for him more than she had ever cared for any other man, but at this precise moment she wished he would leave. She knew there was little chance of his doing so, since he seemed intent on dragging out the evening into the early hours. A few seconds before, when she had glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf, she had been startled to see it was turned one-thirty. Oh hell, she thought dismally, he’ll stay for another hour at least, if I know him. She wondered how to get rid of Kim, with tact, and gave up. Whatever she said, he would hang on until the bitter end, as he always did, until she bustled him out firmly, claiming total exhaustion.

Katharine had not had to feign tiredness tonight. She really did feel weary; her back and legs ached, and there was an acute tightness across her shoulders which reached up into the back of her neck. But her mind was alert, as it sifted through the events of the past twelve hours. What an extraordinary day it had been, starting with her curious
encounter with Estelle Morgan and finishing with Norman and the problems with Terry. Oh how she wanted to be alone, to concentrate her energies on her next moves, all of which she knew must be foolproof and properly implemented if they were to succeed. Her priority was talking to Victor. In the bedroom, after she had changed into her robe, she had tried to reach him at Claridge’s. There had been no reply from his suite. She had left another message, saying she would ’phone the following morning, realizing it would be extremely awkward speaking in front of Kim, should Victor return her call that night. What she had to convey was confidential. She smiled to herself. Victor was going to be delighted with her. Norman had voiced the opinion that her schemes were too complex and, therefore, dicey. She did not agree.

‘There! I’m all finished,’ Kim exclaimed, bounding back into the living room for the third time. ‘I put the food in the fridge, and stacked the dirty plates in the sink.’

Katharine opened her eyes languorously. ‘Thanks, Kim. That was so sweet of you.’

‘Now, darling, how about a cup of coffee?’

‘No. No thanks. Really.’

‘Then I won’t have any either. We’ll just finish the wine and relax. Shall I put a record on?’ he continued, full of
joie de vivre
. He headed in the direction of the small built-in cupboard next to the fireplace which housed the record player. ‘I wouldn’t mind a bit of romantic music—’

‘Please, Kim, I’m awfully tired,’ Katharine exclaimed. ‘I can do without music, if you don’t mind.’

‘Oh, sorry,’ he apologized. ‘Well then, let’s sit and talk for a while. It’s ages since I’ve had you to myself.’

Before Katharine had a chance to suggest it was time for him to leave, Kim was lowering himself next to her on the floor. He smiled as he gazed down at her. There was something emphatically feline about her just now, in the way her eyes slanted as they regarded him almost warily,
under the long silky black lashes, in the graceful pose she had struck, reclining elegantly on the pillows, her head tilted to one side ever so slightly. All of the niggling questions he had been on the point of asking her immediately fled. His mind went blank as he continued to observe that tantalizing and seductive face. And he was entranced with her, mesmerized.

Kim touched her cheek with his index finger. ‘My dearest, sweetest Katharine,’ he murmured so softly she scarcely heard him, and then, leaning forward, he took her in his arms and kissed her swiftly, catching her offguard. It was a light and tender kiss initially, and Katharine did not struggle, even though she was far too preoccupied for his kisses.

Slowly the pressure of Kim’s mouth increased. He pressed her down into the pillows, his tongue feverishly seeking hers, one hand stroking her neck. A moment later, his other hand was on her breast, warm and gentle as it caressed, and then it strayed down, following the curve of her hip on to her thigh, moving in longer firmer strokes. Kim shifted his body slightly, so that it was partially covering hers, and she felt his hardness through his trousers and the thin silk of her robe and was suddenly aware of the rapid pounding of his heart, his laboured breathing as he paused briefly between his kisses. And those kisses began to increase and intensify in their voluptuousness and force and fervency, his ardour running unchecked.

A mixture of panic and fear assaulted Katharine, and she held her breath, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, seeking a way to make him stop without offending him. She did not want him to continue his lovemaking, and a tremor rippled through her, and then again, and again and again.

Kim, overwhelmed by his strong and deeply-felt emotions, mistook her trembling, believing it to be an echo of his own urgent need… the overwhelming need to possess her fully, to become one with her, to join his body with hers… irrevocably. He had wanted her for so long now, all these
endless months, and apparently so had she. Even though she had not really shown it before. Not exactly. Not responsively like this.

His heart, thundering in his chest, was bursting with the purest joy, and he thought: Oh my love my sweet darling love my Katharine my only love. He was burning up with excitement, and he lifted his body so that he was lying on top of her completely. She was so soft and melting under him, and he moulded himself to her legs and her lovely breasts and her stomach. How perfectly she fitted under him and with him. He found her mouth with his own, so hungry and yearning, and crushed his lips to hers. And he thought he was going to explode.

Katharine was trapped unbearably under his weight, unable to move and terrified. I don’t want this. I don’t want it, a voice in her head screamed. I’ve got to make him stop. Oh my God what am I going to do? Now, to her immense horror, that warm and loving hand was touching her bare calf, stroking gently, and rising slowly to her knee under the robe. His hand lingered on her knee and progressed up her leg and then trailed across the inside of her upper thigh, where it lingered again, the tips of his fingers expertly tracing circles on her flesh, almost imperceptibly, so delicate was their touch. Katharine turned her head, trying to breathe, and then she strangled a cry of protest in her throat and she went cold all over. Kim’s hand was drifting across her stomach and moving down, ever so slowly down and she stiffened, holding her body taut.

Although she did not push him away from her, Katharine’s sudden and enormous coldness communicated itself to Kim. He was conscious of the unusual rigidity of her body, no longer pliable and yielding under his, nor quivering under his touch. He pulled his hand away hurriedly, as if he had been scalded, and after a moment he raised himself on one elbow. His eyes were baffled and questioning and he stared into her face, and his own was covered with hurt and confusion.

It took him a short while to recover his equilibrium, to throw off the shock of her emotional withdrawal and physical frigidity. At last he mumbled, his voice choked, ‘What’s wrong?’ And then he flushed deeply. ‘Don’t you want me to kiss you? To touch you? Are you off me?’

‘No. No, it’s not that,’ Katharine began and halted, alarmed by the anger trickling into his eyes. ‘I told you, I’m very tired, Kim, and anyway, I’m not a te—’

‘You don’t have to mention your tiredness again, for God’s sake! You’ve been rubbing it in all evening!’ Kim was beset by a terrible shaking and he jumped up, charged with rage. He reached for the packet of cigarettes on the coffee table, lit one swiftly and then strode over to the fireplace. He turned to face her, and said with unfamiliar coldness, ‘I don’t understand you any more, Katharine. You blow hot and cold at the drop of a hat. And it’s damned unnerving, to say the least!’

‘No, I don’t,’ Katharine said defensively, returning his icy stare. She got to her feet with swiftness, smoothed down her robe and positioned herself on the sofa.

‘Oh yes, you do,’ Kim retorted, his anger unabated. ‘When we’re with other people you’re sweet and loving and flirtatious and encouraging. But when we’re alone you’re as distant as Mount Everest and just as bloody chilly. Tonight I thought you were going to be different. A grave error! My God, you let me kiss you and fondle you, and you didn’t stop me. In fact, you returned my kisses, and, mistakenly it seems, I thought you returned my feelings as well. It certainly appeared so. Then inexplicably you turn into a block of ice,’ he finished furiously, the deep colour darkening on his face. ‘You’re not very fair, Katharine.’

She drew herself up on the sofa with some dignity, and adopted an injured air. ‘I started to say, a moment before, that I’m not a tease—’

‘But you are!’ Kim cut in with a hard laugh. ‘The way you dress and get yourself up, oh so alluringly, and then set out to entice. I’d say you’re a hell of a tease, my dear.’

Katharine glared at him, truly taken aback and also annoyed. ‘In that case, you can say all women are teases, simply because they’re women! What I meant was that I didn’t want to encourage you any more tonight, to get you… well, get you worked up and then leave you frustrated—’

‘But you did exactly that!’ he cried with indignation, interrupting her again. ‘Good Lord, Katharine, I’m not made of iron. I’m a man. How much do you think I can take of this heavy petting… without… fulfilment?’

Katharine leaned forward, a patient expression firmly in place, and said placatingly, with reasonableness, ‘Kim, that’s why I’ve been so very, very careful with you. You just said I’m not fair, but I believe I’ve been exceedingly fair, simply by not allowing our petting
ever
to go as far as it did tonight. Not ever in the past.’

‘Then why did you permit it this evening?’ he demanded. He was still furious with her, but the shaking had stopped, much to his relief.

This was the first time Kim had been angry or spoken one harsh word to her, and Katharine decided it would be far wiser to smooth his ruffled feathers rather than plunge into a long and complicated discussion about sex. Her eyes and her mouth smiled at him gently. ‘I didn’t
really
allow it. It just sort of… well… happened, and before I could stop it. I let things get out of hand, I suppose. Perhaps because I am so terribly tired. Not thinking clearly. And despite what you believe, these past few weeks have been difficult for me. I take the screen test very seriously,’ she continued, adopting a different tack to divert him. ‘It
has
put extra pressures on me. And frankly, today in particular has been quite rough. I had an important lunch, and then Norman dropped the bombshell, about Terry being sick. Also, there was the strain of tonight’s performance, and Norman’s—’

‘It strikes me you’re only tired and feeling the strain when you’re with me. Alone with me. And that’s another thing. Inviting Norman over here to talk about blasted antiques,
when you knew we had this very special date! I could have given the same information to you to pass on to him or Terry quite easily, you know. And whilst we’re on the subject of other people, what’s so important about lunch with my sister?’

‘Didn’t Francesca tell you she’s going to adapt a scene from
Wuthering Heights
? For my screen test?’ she asked, ignoring the comment about Norman and making her voice sweet and melting, hoping to mollify him. She could hardly tell him the real reason for Norman’s presence in the flat, not without breaking a confidence and her promise. And that she would never do.

‘Yes, she did,’ Kim said edgily.

‘It was important to me, even if you don’t see it that way. I’m very grateful for Francesca’s help. And look, I’m sorry I upset you. I am, honestly.’

Kim was silent. He lit another cigarette, and then poured himself a glass of wine, stepping away from the coffee table and Katharine quickly. He positioned himself in front of the fireplace as before, his face set, a small pulse beating in his temple. He was still seething inside. His feelings of hurt, anger and frustration sprang, not unnaturally, from his disappointment, and the belief that she had wilfully led him on, only to finally reject him. Kim Cunningham was not accustomed to being rejected.

On the contrary, until he had met Katharine Tempest, he had been the pursued rather than the pursuer, for like his father, he was irresistibly attractive to women from all walks of fife. For a young man not yet twenty-two he was remarkably experienced sexually and had a voracious appetite. Before the advent of Katharine in his life, he had had one involved love affair and a number of liaisons of lesser significance. His only involved relationship, until Katharine, had been with the German princess he had met on a skiing holiday in Königssee, when visiting his cousins Diana and Christian. Astrid, the lady in question, had been
seven years his senior, twenty-six at the time, and married. It was the latter reason which had led the Earl to intervene, but only at the request of the irate husband. The prince had not taken too kindly to his younger wife’s dalliance with a nineteen-year-old ‘pup’, as he disparagingly termed Kim. Although the Earl had immediately articulated his annoyance to Kim and insisted the affair end, he had been amused. He was also patently aware it was merely a passing fancy on the part of the princess, who had married a fortune she had no intention of forgoing, and therefore in no way represented a threat to his son.

Kim thought of Astrid now. She had been so warm and loving and passionate, and it was she who had awakened his latent sensuality, the voluptuousness that lay hidden behind his contained and reserved facade. It was Astrid who had imparted her own expertise to him, which in turn had been so appreciated by all of those other young women who had followed in her footsteps. For reasons unknown to himself, and despite his now well-developed needs, Kim had never pressed Katharine into succumbing to his advances, or been sexually aggressive with her. In fact, he had always been extraordinarily restrained. He wondered about this as he continued to ruminate in front of the fire, sipping his drink, and he came to the conclusion that he had been behaving in a way that was quite foreign to his nature. Was that because she herself was always so restrained? No,
controlled
was a much better word. He was not sure, and he was also puzzled. Why had he invariably handled her with kid gloves?