Conveniently His Omnibus (13 page)

Motivated by an impulse which she told herself she would have been wiser to resist, Sophy spent almost an hour getting ready for Jon’s arrival. She put on her yellow sundress and did her face, telling herself as she did so, that all she was likely to achieve was to make Jon feel even more uncomfortable but it was impossible to resist the age-old feminine instinct to make herself as attractive as she could for the man she loved.

When she heard a car coming up the drive, she dropped her mascara wand and brushed her hair feverishly. It was only one o’clock...and Jon had specifically said that the train didn’t reach Cambridge until one. It was a half an hour drive from Cambridge to the house...but then of course, it wouldn’t be the first time he had got a timetable wrong.

Unable to hide the eagerness in her eyes she rushed downstairs and into the hall, flinging open the front door.

‘Well, well, surprise, surprise...so you
are
pleased to see me after all.’

In dumb dismay Sophy watched as Chris climbed out of the car on the drive and staggered towards her. He had been drinking, she realised nervously, and there was a look in his eyes that made her feel slightly apprehensive.

‘I thought you were Jon.’ The admission was made before she could check herself, and she cursed herself under her breath as she saw the triumph in his eyes.

‘So, all alone, are you?’

She made to shut the front door, but it was too late. Chris was inside, breathing heavily as he glowered at her. ‘It’s all your fault,’ he told her thickly, lurching towards her, and grabbing hold of her arm. ‘All of it.’

‘Chris...you’ve had too much to drink,’ Sophy protested. If only she could get him into the kitchen she might be able to sober him up and send him on his way. ‘Look, let me make you some coffee.’

‘Don’t want coffee.’ His voice was becoming slurred. ‘Revenge...that’s what I want. Ruined my life, that’s what you did. Bloody—!’ He called her a name that made her wince. ‘Frigid bitches like you ought to be destroyed...because that’s what you’ve done to me. It’s your fault Felicity left me. Christ, remembering what it’s like touching you is enough to make any man impotent...’

Sophy tried not to listen while he hurled further insults at her. Surreptitiously she tried to free herself from his grasp but he suddenly realised what she was trying to do and grabbed hold of her with both hands, shaking her until she thought her neck would break.

‘Are you cold in bed with him?’ he demanded thickly, suddenly, his eyes narrowing onto her own, glittering with a hatred that suddenly turned her blood to ice water. ‘Are you, Sophy?’

She cried out as he shook her again and her head hit the wall with a sickening thud. For a few seconds she thought she was going to faint but then the pain cleared. ‘Let me go, Chris,’ she pleaded, regretting the words, the instant she saw the satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. How on earth had she ever imagined herself in love with him...this apology for a man? He was so weak and immature, so ready to blame others for his own failings. Suddenly she was furiously angry with him, her anger overcoming her earlier fear.

‘No woman could be cold in bed with Jon,’ she told him truthfully, watching the fury twist his face.

‘You’re lying to me.’ He said it thickly, pushing his face against her own so that she was forced to inhale the sour whisky fumes that clung to his breath. ‘Don’t make me angry, Sophy,’ he warned her. ‘You won’t like it when I get angry. Felicity didn’t,’ he added, watching her.

Suddenly Sophy knew that he was threatening her with physical violence and she felt acutely sick. This was the man her mother had wanted her to marry; had held up to her as perfect husband material...this...this creature who had just openly boasted to her that he had used violence on his wife.

Suddenly she was so angry that there was no room or fear. ‘Is that what you like, Chris,’ she sneered, ‘hitting women?’ She watched his face contort and was horrified by the violence in him but knew that to let him see her shock would be to add to his sense of power over her.

‘I think it’s time you left, Chris,’ she told him coolly. She saw the indecision flicker in his eyes, and knew that her controlled manner had disconcerted him. She could even feel the grip of his hands relaxing slightly. Pressing home her advantage, she added, ‘Jon will be home soon.’

She knew instantly that she had made a mistake, the very mention of Jon’s name brought forth a torrent of invective and abuse so foul that she had to close her ears to it.

‘You made a fool of me by marrying him,’ he told her pushing her back against the wall, ‘but he won’t want you anymore when he sees what I’ve done to you...’

He must be mentally deranged, Sophy thought as she tried to fight down her own panic, sensing that to show it would only be to inflame Chris even further. Even making allowances for the fact that he was drunk, his behaviour still hinted at an instability of temperament that shocked and frightened her, all the more so for being concealed so carefully in the past. And yet now she remembered that he had always had a streak of cruelty...always enjoyed hurting people.

She was about to make one last plea to him to set her free when she heard a car outside. Chris, still mouthing threats and insults at her, apparently had heard nothing, and Sophy prayed that Jon would find them before Chris did anything to hurt her. She didn’t even dare move in case Chris realised...but then she heard a car door slam and saw Chris lift his head.

‘Is that him?’ he demanded, shaking her. ‘Is it...?’ He was starting to drag her towards the kitchen. She had a mental image of the dangerously sharp cooking knives hanging on the wall just by the door and her stomach clenched in mute protest. She mustn’t let Chris get in there.

Panic shuddered through her and she reacted instinctively, screaming Jon’s name...hoping her scream would penetrate through the thick front door.

For agonising seconds nothing happened...and she was terrified he hadn’t heard her. Chris was still dragging her towards the kitchen and then blessedly she heard the kitchen door open, and Jon was calling her name. At the same time the front door opened and a burly taxi driver stood there. Jon had obviously heard her cry for help and had instructed the driver to take the front door whilst he took the back.

‘In here, guv!’

She heard the driver call out and then the kitchen door burst open and Jon was standing there. She gave a tiny sob of relief and closed her eyes, only to open them again as Chris was thrust away from her.

‘It was her fault,’ she heard him telling Jon in a faintly whining tone. ‘She asked me to come over here. She told me she wanted to see me...that she wanted me to take her to bed—’

‘No! No...that isn’t true!’ She was sobbing the denial, unable to believe what Chris was saying. She saw Jon raise his fist and Chris cringe away and then the taxi driver was in between them. ‘Best not do that, guv,’ he told Jon warningly. ‘Let the law handle it...it’s always the best way.’

‘From a legal point of view maybe, but not from an emotional one,’ Jon responded rawly but nevertheless his fist unclenched and though he was not particularly gentle as he hauled Chris well away from her, Sophy saw that he had himself well under control.

It was the taxi driver who rang for the police.

After that Sophy lost touch with what was happening. All of them had to go down to the police station, where she had to give a statement. Jon wasn’t allowed to stay with her but she knew she had nothing to hide and managed to keep control of herself long enough to answer the questions.

When at last she was reunited with Jon, she was glad of the protective arm he put round her. It was sheer bliss to simply relax against his chest...so solid and safe, after the terror Chris had inflicted upon her.

‘Will you be wishing to press charges, sir?’

Jon replied immediately. ‘Yes, we will.’ He felt Sophy tense and looked down at her. ‘I know it won’t be very pleasant,’ he told her quietly, ‘but for the sake of his wife, and any other unfortunate woman who might come in contact with him, I think you should.’

Sophy knew that he was right but more important than that was the recognition that in speaking as he had, he was saying that he completely believed her version of what had happened. She had told him about it in the car on the way to the police station, and he had been so silent that there had been a moment when she had actually wondered if he thought that she was the one who was lying and Chris was telling the truth.

Neither of them spoke about what had happened on the drive back. When they got inside Jon detained her, by placing his hand on her arm.

‘I think you ought to go upstairs and try to rest. You’re probably still suffering from shock.’

‘I can’t rest,’ she told him honestly, ‘I’m far too wrought up. I was so frightened...’ she said it under her breath.

She shivered as he said roughly, ‘If he had hurt you...’

She stopped him, shaking her head, putting her hand over his in an effort to soothe him. ‘But thanks to you he didn’t.’ She shivered slightly. ‘To think I never really realised what he was like.’ She paused and then said huskily, dropping her head so that she wouldn’t have to look at him. ‘Thanks for...for believing me.’

She heard him swear under his breath, something he rarely did and her head jerked up. His mouth was white with strain, his eyes dark with anger. His hand cupped her jaw, his thumb stroking her mouth, the unexpected physical contact making her gulp in air, the raw ache inside her, suddenly mingling with a heady, delirious sense of release. If Chris had managed to deceive her so well about himself, perhaps he had deceived her in other ways as well. Perhaps she was not as sexually inadequate as she had always believed. After all, Chris had never ever made her feel the way Jon did. She had never ached for Chris the way she did for Jon, never melted at his lightest touch the way she did with Jon.

‘Sophy...’ The husky sound of his voice seemed to come to her from a great distance, almost as great as the distance that lay between them. With a small moan she moved, pressing herself against his body, feeling him tense in surprise and then unbelievably reach for her, taking her in his arms, his mouth hot and urgent on hers. He was kissing her as though he had never touched her before, as though he had starved for the taste and feel of her. She could feel his physical arousal and felt her own body stir in response.

‘Sophy...Sophy.’ Even when he had stopped kissing her, Jon didn’t seem to be able to let her go or stop saying her name. It must be the release of tension which was causing such an intense reaction in him, she thought hazily, shuddering as his hand touched her body, longing suddenly to be free of the constrictions of her clothes.

Almost as though her desire had communicated itself to him he stepped back from her and then picked her up. She was no tiny little doll but he took the stairs almost effortlessly, shouldering open the door to his bedroom and then turning so that he could use his foot to kick it closed.

‘No!’ Her protest was an instinctive female denial of the desire she saw glittering in his eyes, but he misinterpreted it, thinking it was him she was denying, and contradicted thickly, ‘Yes...’ reiterating, ‘yes, Sophy. Yes...’ as he slowly slid her body back down to the floor, keeping her pressed hard against him, so that she was hopelessly aware of every male inch of him.

Never in a thousand lifetimes had she imaged Jon capable of such intensely sensual behaviour and every pulse in her body quickened in response to it. There was no room for fear that she might somehow disappoint him, that was forgotten in the thick clamouring of her blood.

CHAPTER EIGHT

S
ECONDS
,
OR
WAS
it aeons, passed, Sophy wasn’t aware of which...only of the heavy beat of Jon’s body into her own, the timeless message of need and desire that passed from flesh to flesh and was returned.

She was dimly conscious of Jon reaching behind her to slide down the zip of her dress, just as she half heard the slithering sound the cotton made as it fell to the floor. All these were peripheral things, barely impinging on what really mattered, on the sensation of Jon’s hot flesh pressed against her own as she tugged open his shirt and sighed her pleasure at being able to touch him as he was touching her.

Neither of them spoke. They were too busy touching...kissing. An urgent, aching impatience swept through her commanding her to actions at once both totally familiar and totally necessary so that nothing short of death could have stopped her from reaching down and fumbling impatiently with Jon’s zip.

She felt his chest expand as he drew in his breath and for a moment teetered on the brink of her old insecurities but then his hand was on hers, helping her complete her task, his voice raw and thick with pleasure as she touched the maleness of him.

Then he was pushing her back against the door, muttering hoarse words of pleasure and arousal against her mouth, one hand sliding into her hair, the other curling round her waist as she melted into him...greedy for him.

His mouth left hers, long enough for him to groan. ‘The bed...Sophy, we can’t...’ but he was moving away from her and that blotted out the meaning of his words, leaving behind only the sound and her fear that she was going to lose him, so she arched her body into his, winding her arms round him, grinding her hips into his in instinctive incitement.

‘Sophy...’ She could hear the grating protest in his voice, but could take no need of it. To lose him now would be to die. Her senses clamoured desperately for fulfilment, her body out of her control and obeying a far more primitive command than that of the mind. She wanted him...needed him. Not just against her but within her, deep inside her, at that place where her body pulsed and ached.

Moaning feverishly, she ran her hands over his torso, arching her back until her breasts were flattened against his chest, her hips writhing against him in a sensual rhythm they seemed to know by instinct.

‘Dear God, Sophy...’

She felt the shudder run through him and saw the sweat cling to his skin. She could feel his heart racing and knew with a deep thrill of triumph that he had as little control over his response to her as she had of hers to him...less perhaps, she realised as he kissed her fiercely, his tongue eagerly invading her mouth. She could feel the frantic throbbing of his body against her, his weight pressing her back against the door and then suddenly he wrenched his mouth from hers, a harsh, inarticulate sound emerging from his throat. She knew, even without feeling him tug off her briefs that his need could not wait any longer.

She felt him lift her, balancing her weight against him and without having to be told automatically wrapped her legs around him, her hands clinging to his shoulders as she felt the first longed for movement of his body against her own.

Each driving thrust made her shudder with pleasure, her body eager to accommodate him, her muscles supplely responsive to the maleness of him.

Her spine arched her body taut as a bow in mute response to the driving force of him within her, the harsh oddly coordinated sound of their breathing an erotic stimulation she hadn’t even realised existed.

It was over far too quickly, their bodies escaping the rationale of their minds, moving frantically together, meeting greedily as though they had starved for this frenetic physical union, Sophy thought, as her body trembled in the aftermath of the convulsive climax that had so recently racked her. She could still hear Jon’s harsh breathing. She could feel the tension in his locked muscles as he slowly released her, letting her slide her feet back down to the floor. Neither of them spoke... She didn’t honestly think either of them were capable of speaking. Jon arched his back, relieving her of his weight, his arms rigid, his hands against the door either side of her head. He leaned his forehead against his arm, and she could see that his hair at the front was soaked with sweat.

‘I shouldn’t have done that.’ His voice was slow as though he had difficulty in forming the words. He raised his head and looked at her. ‘Did I hurt you?’

She ached, it was true...and there had been an edge of violence in their lovemaking but it had been a shared, wanted violence...a need in both of them perhaps to work out physically the tensions Chris had caused.

‘Only in the nicest possible way,’ she told him honestly, checking as she felt him tense.

‘You shouldn’t say things like that to me. They have a disastrous effect on my self-control...’ He picked her up, completely surprising her, and carried her over to the bed.

‘You lied to me,’ he told her pleasantly, watching her eyes.

‘I...’ She was confused and apprehensive, but he didn’t give her time to say anything.

‘You told me I wouldn’t enjoy possessing you...that I would find you disappointing.’

Incredibly in the fierce urgency of their coming together she had completely forgotten her old fears, and now her mouth fell open slightly. All at once she felt oddly light-headed—free, she realised giddily—for the first time since she reached womanhood, she was truly free of all fear and inhibition.

They were both sitting on the bed, but Jon got up and pulled off his shirt. While she was completely nude he was still almost fully dressed and she blushed to realise she had been so impatient for him she hadn’t even paused to consider that fact before...

‘What are you doing?’

He paused to smile at her as he pulled off his trousers. ‘I’m getting ready to make love to my wife,’ he told her with a smile.

Sophy stared indignantly at him. ‘I thought you just did...’

The humour died out of his eyes, and suddenly his mouth was grim. ‘That wasn’t so much making love as satisfying an intense physical need. This is making love.’ He turned to her, touching her with gentle fingers, stroking the velvet smoothness of her skin, pushing her down onto the bed and lying beside her, kissing her slowly and thoroughly, until she sighed languorously her body awash with the most deliciously sensual awareness.

Now that the frantic need for haste was gone, she could touch him as she had been longing to do for so long. With her hands...and with her lips, delighting in his husky moans of pleasure as she discovered how best she could please him.

He had no need to make such discoveries. He already knew how to please her, she thought shiveringly, as his mouth caressed the hard peaks of her breasts, teasing and stimulating them until she cried out and arched against him.

It was only when his mouth touched the moist heart of her femininity that she tensed, trying desperately to wriggle away from him but his hands slid up under her, holding her hips, pinning her to the bed.

He raised his head and demanded rawly, ‘Let me, Sophy. I want to pleasure you. I want to give you all that he never did. Trust me...’

She tried to relax, quivering under the slow assault of his tongue, gasping in shock at the sudden surge of pleasure invading her, her restraint completely swept away as Jon took advantage of her involuntary relaxation, his mouth moving delicately against the tender nub of flesh he had so unerringly found, ignoring her frantic protests for him to stop.

Then suddenly she was no longer capable of any form of protests; incapable of anything other than submitting to the waves of pleasure convulsing her body.

Some time later...she wasn’t capable of working out how much, she felt him move to take her in his arms and gently lick away her tears of pleasure. He took her hand and placed it on his body and under his guidance she felt the full male power of him.

It seemed impossible that her body should ache for him already but it did, as though simply by feeling his arousal she herself immediately shared it.

‘See,’ he murmured into her ear. ‘That’s what loving you does to me, Sophy.’

She shivered, immeasurably affected by the knowledge that he desired her; that she was capable of arousing such desire within him.

This time there was no urgency...no haste...and the slow, almost languorous way he filled her, made her sigh and murmur with delight, her body moving effortlessly to the rhythm he set.

She fell asleep in his arms, conscious of an overwhelming sense of well-being...of inner peace and a joy so intense, she felt it must radiate from her in a physical aura. She loved him...and she was already asleep before she remembered that he did not love her.

* * *

‘G
OOD
, I’
M
GLAD
YOU
’
RE
awake. Uncle Jon said we weren’t to wake you.’ Sophy opened her eyes slowly. What was she doing in Jon’s bed? And then she remembered.

To cover her embarrassment she asked Alex, ‘What time is it?’

‘Supper time,’ David told her gloomily. ‘I’m starving, and all Uncle Jon can cook is beans on toast.’

‘That’s a lie,’ Alex retorted hotly, immediately defending her idol. ‘He can do lots of things.’

‘Such as?’

Sophy let them argue, closing her eyes and slowly trying to come to terms with what had happened. She and Jon had made love. She shivered lightly and felt tiny beads of sweat spring up on her skin as she remembered exactly how they had made love.

The children’s quarreling suddenly pierced her thoughts and she sat up, clinging to the duvet as she realised that she was still naked.

‘Stop it, both of you,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ll get up and come down and make your supper.’

‘See what you’ve done now,’ Alex accused her brother, ‘Uncle Jon said—’

‘What Uncle Jon said was that neither of you were to come in here and wake Sophy up,’ that gentleman said drily from the doorway.

None of them had seen him come in. Sophy felt herself flush a brilliant scarlet as he looked at her. Alex, who was looking at her uncle rather guiltily, missed Sophy’s reaction but David did not. A little to her surprise he got up off the bed, and taking hold of Alex’s hand, said firmly to his sister. ‘Come on...we’re going downstairs.’

Sophy didn’t want them to leave. She didn’t want to be alone with Jon... She felt both embarrassed and apprehensive. What must he think of her? Had he guessed that she loved him?

‘David, it seems, is growing up,’ he murmured lightly as he took the place his nephew had vacated beside her on the bed, elucidating when she looked puzzled. ‘He obviously thought we wanted to be alone.’

He bent his head, so that she couldn’t see his expression and said slowly, ‘Sophy, we have to talk.’

He had said that before but this time the flare of panic inside her was far greater. ‘Not now, Jon.’ There was a note of pleading in her voice that made him look at her. ‘I feel so muzzy,’ she told him, fibbing a little. ‘Chris, the shock...’

‘Of course.’ His voice was completely even but she was conscious of a sudden coolness in his manner, a faint withdrawal from her which, because she was so acutely aware of everything about him, she recognised immediately and which defeated her tenuous self-control. This afternoon both of them had been acting out of character. She couldn’t blame him if now he was wishing none of it had ever happened, but at least nothing could ever take from her her memories of him as her lover...and as her lover he had been both demanding and tender. She had memories she would cherish for the rest of her life. But memories would not keep her warm at night when Jon was not there...

‘We’ll talk another time, then.’ He was getting up, and soon he would be gone.

She forced a brief smile.

‘I’ll be down shortly.’ She saw that he was about to protest and added, ‘I won’t sleep if I stay in bed...and besides I’d have to go back to my own room.’

She held her breath as she waited for him to contradict her statement and to tell her that she was sleeping with him from now on, but he didn’t, and at last she had to expel it and listen with an aching heart as he said mildly, ‘As you wish.’

No doubt he was relieved that she was going back to her own room, she thought bitterly as she showered and then dressed. After all, by making that statement she had saved him the embarrassment of asking her to go back.

* * *

W
E
MUST
TALK
,
Jon had said, but they didn’t seem to get the opportunity to do so. It was now almost twenty-four hours since he had returned from London, and he had spent almost all of the morning shut in his study.

Sophy had gone in once with a cup of coffee. Jon had been on the phone, the conversation he was having abruptly cut short as she walked in, almost as though he did not want her to overhear what he was saying. After that she didn’t go in again.

What had happened to that easy friendship that once had existed between them? Did love automatically kill friendship, or was it that friendship was quite simply no longer enough?

She was just about to make lunch when Jon walked into the kitchen and announced that he was going out.

‘I’m meeting Harry in Cambridge,’ he told her, ‘I shan’t be very long.’

She offered to drive him in, but he shook his head. ‘It’s okay, I’ve already booked a taxi.’

Sophy turned away, hoping he would not see the hurt pain she knew was in her eyes, and she thought she had succeeded until she heard him say raggedly, ‘Sophy, I...’ She turned round and saw the hand he had extended towards her as though he wanted to touch her, fall back to his side, his expression grimly unreadable, as he left his sentence unfinished.

There was such an air of constraint about him that even a complete stranger must have been aware of it, Sophy thought miserably as she watched his taxi drive away. What was causing it? Her? Their relationship?

She had some work to do for Jon—bills to send out and correspondence to attend to, but although her fingers moved deftly enough over the keys of her typewriter, her mind was not really on what she was doing.