Ellie (75 page)

‘It’s hard for me to be objective.’ Edward took her glass from her hand and cuddled her. ‘I can’t understand any man not adoring you, because I do. But I’ve done my share of dirty tricks with women too, so that puts me in the same camp as Ray.’

‘You wouldn’t just use someone!’ Ellie turned her tear-stained face up to his. ‘Would you?’

Edward sighed deeply. ‘I do it all the time,’ he admitted. ‘In fact I’m probably far worse than Ray. I wish I could be different. I don’t like myself very much.’

‘But why, Edward?’ she asked. He had said on the way home that he’d finished with Marcia. He didn’t appear to have anyone else. ‘Don’t you want to be cosy with someone who cares for you?’

Edward did; daily he wished he could meet a girl he felt that way about. He wanted to tell Ellie just how it was for him, to confess everything and be cleansed, but he didn’t dare. Ellie’s experience was limited to only Charley and Ray and he was absolutely certain that neither of these two had the kind of unnatural urges he did.

‘I suppose, like you, I’ve never met the right person,’ Edward said lamely. ‘Maybe when we stop looking they’ll just pop up.’

‘I’ll never trust anyone again,’ Ellie sniffed.

‘We’re a pair of emotional cripples,’ Edward said, hoping it might make her laugh. He knew it was true of himself, but he couldn’t really see her in the same light. ‘Go to sleep. Tomorrow it will all look different. It’s only your pride that’s been hurt. That mends quicker than a broken heart.’

Edward lay looking at Ellie for some time before he turned out the light. She was sound asleep now on his shoulder, one arm across his chest, her eyelashes like sooty brushes on her cheeks, her lower lip quivering as she breathed. He’d held no other woman like this. Even on rare occasions when he had stayed all night with a woman, he always put space between them, hating the enforced intimacy of a bed.

He could feel the warmth and softness of her breasts against him, yet it didn’t arouse him. He sensed that the exquisite tenderness he felt now was the kind of emotion a man should feel for a woman after love-making. Yet he’d never felt it before, not with anyone.

He turned out the light and buried his face against her hair, tears pricking at his eyelids. Why had he been singled out for torture? What cruel fate had decreed that he should love this woman, yet be unable to make love to her?

As Ellie was dropping off to sleep with Edward, Bonny was dancing along a Durrants Hotel corridor, her high heels in her hand, John Norton a few paces behind her.

She turned as she got to her door, swaying a little unsteadily. She’d had a lot to drink this evening.

‘I love hotels,’ she said, clamping her hand over her mouth as she realised how loud her voice sounded.

It was one in the morning and all the other guests at Durrants seemed to have gone to bed. This was the best hotel she’d ever been in: it had a quiet sort of luxury, with pale blue carpets, soft wall lights and ivory, silky wallpaper. It was in a road running parallel to Oxford Street, just behind Selfridges. Once an old coaching inn, it still had that old-world charm, with a wood-panelled dining-room and bar, but the bedrooms were comfortably elegant, and hers had its own bathroom, with thick, fluffly towels warmed on a radiator. Magnus had taken her to some nice hotels, but never one as special as this. She was flattered too that John had his own room; she fully intended him to share hers, but it felt good not to be taken for granted.

She giggled as John reached her. ‘Anything could happen in a hotel,’ she whispered, her eyes sparkling. ‘You don’t know who anyone is, where they’ve come from, or where they’re going. It’s kind of magical.’

John smiled. He didn’t see hotels that way; to him they were impersonal, lonely places, though Durrants was far nicer than most. Like Bonny, he was a little drunk. Perhaps he shouldn’t have ordered that bottle of champagne in the night-club, not after two bottles of wine with dinner.

He had never seen Bonny looking quite so adorable, her fur coat draped over one shoulder, the other bare and vulnerable, hair coming loose from its pins, and her blue satin evening dress clinging seductively to her hips. ‘Go to bed before you wake everyone,’ he said as he opened her door for her.

She paused, leaning back on the doorpost. ‘Aren’t you coming in to say good-night properly?’

John felt himself weakening as he looked at her, suddenly hot all over. Earlier he had felt certain he had enough willpower to kiss her good-night and go back to his own room. Now he wasn’t so sure.

‘We’ve got a great many things to see and do tomorrow,’ he said weakly. But all he could focus on was the slight curve of her belly beneath her dress. ‘I’ll just say good-night here.’

John hadn’t a great deal of experience with women: a few girlfriends at university, a fling with a laboratory assistant in his first job and casual, short-loved relationships during the war. At heart he was a romantic, believing that for each man there was one true love which should only be consummated in marriage. He had fallen by the wayside in this ideal, especially during his spell in the Guards, but when he met and fell in love with Bonny he became determined to hold out until he was absolutely certain of her. She turned him inside out and upside down. One moment he saw her as a little innocent who needed protecting, at other times he felt it was he who needed protection. He sensed that once he’d made love to her he might lose all control of his emotions. He had a demanding job, and he couldn’t work properly if his mind was elsewhere. He wanted her desperately, but at the same time he wanted to retain his mental freedom.

‘Okay then.’ She reached forward and kissed his cheek. ‘But come in for a moment and unfasten my necklace. I can’t do it myself.’

The chambermaid had turned down her bed and drawn the curtains while they were out. One small light had been left on by the bed, and Bonny’s nightdress was virgin white against the dark-plum counterpane.

Bonny tossed her coat on to a small chair and kicked off her shoes, then lifting her hair she turned her back to John.

He could barely see the clasp of the necklace in the dim light, but the lovely line of her slender neck, her shoulder-blades above the satin of her dress, were all too visible. His hands trembled as he tried to undo the clasp. Her perfume wafted up to his nostrils and he wanted to bite into that smooth, pink-white flesh.

‘Now a proper kiss,’ she said, turning as the necklace came away in his hands. ‘I’m not going to bed without one.’

Until tonight, all their kisses had been in public places or in his car, but now, with alcohol heightening passion, the soft light and a bed so close to hand, it was quite different. Her lips responded to his hungrily, her tongue insinuating its way into his mouth. He could feel the heat of her body through the delicate dress and he knew there was no turning back.

‘I love you, John,’ she said, breaking away from his lips for a moment. ‘Don’t push me away.’

John’s resolutions crumbled as she kissed him again. His fingers reached the zipper of her strapless dress involuntarily as she clung to him. As his hands caressed her soft, warm back, so her dress slid down to the floor, leaving her only in stockings, a garter belt and pale-blue, lace-trimmed knickers.

He gasped in wonder as she took a step back from him. Her breasts, which until now he’d stroked only tentatively through clothes, were firm globes with nipples like small raspberries. He was transfixed by her beauty – the cascade of silky hair over her shoulders, the turquoise of her eyes and the plump moistness of her lips – and he grabbed her back into his arms, showering her face and neck with kisses, knowing that he’d passed the point of no return.

‘Make love to me, John,’ she whispered, holding his face between her two hands and kissing him again. ‘All I want is you.’ She slowly unbuttoned his shirt and rubbed her breasts against his bare chest, her erect nipples sending shudders of delight down his spine.

John’s head told him to take things slowly, but his body reacted violently, with a mind of its own. He pushed her back on to the bed, beyond thinking of anything but his own needs and the passion he’d suppressed for so long. He plunged into her like a dog presented with a bitch in heat, taking his pleasure selfishly, drowning in the scent of her. ‘I love you,’ he moaned, biting her shoulder fiercely as he came all too quickly. ‘Oh, Bonny!’

Bonny smiled to herself as she held John in her arms. He had surprised her. She hadn’t expected he would lose control like that. It had been far too quick for her to get any satisfaction, in fact it had hurt, but then she was supposed to be a virgin in this little game.

‘I hurt you, didn’t I? Oh Bonny, I’m so sorry,’ he said, his voice croaking with emotion. He turned her face to his, supporting himself on his elbow. To her further surprise, his brown eyes were swimming with tears.

‘Just a bit,’ she whispered, taking his hand and kissing his fingertips. ‘But it’s okay. I think it always hurts the first time.’

Other men had used her just as roughly and she usually despised them for their callousness. But she didn’t despise John; in fact she was moved by his distress. He would make an excellent lover with a bit of practice.

‘I was like an animal. How will you ever forgive me?’ he said, burying his face in her breasts.

She looked down at his back. It was sun-tanned, and his skin was silky smooth. She decided he had a nice body – wide shoulders, firm buttocks, perfectly proportioned and remarkably muscular for a man who didn’t do manual work. ‘I’ll forgive you, if you try again. Gently this time,’ she said.

‘Only one more night together before I go to the Persian Gulf,’ John said sadly as Bonny lay snuggled into his arms on Sunday night. ‘I don’t know when I’m going to be able to see you again either.’

‘I’ll be counting the days till you get back,’ she said, turning her face up to his and running one finger along his moustache. She could see now why Ellie had said John was handsome, a bit like Ronald Coleman, though it had taken her a long time to acknowledge it. He tended to be so serious and correct, and his unnerving habit of frowning gave the impression he lacked a sense of humour. This weekend she hadn’t seen that frown once; his mouth seemed to be curved into a permanent grin, and when he gave one of his rare, deep belly laughs his dark eyes danced and sparkled.

She wished she could make him laugh more often. The boy in him revealed by his laughter was so very appealing. Although she wasn’t one to think much about what made people serious or sad, she had found herself pondering on what made him so grave sometimes. Was it his work? Or losing his two older brothers? Or just that he was something of a loner?

She cuddled closer to him, caught by an unexpected pang of tenderness for this man she couldn’t quite fathom. ‘Oh John,’ she murmured. ‘It’s been such a wonderful weekend. I wish I could be with you all the time.’

John felt his eyes prickle and a lump came up in his throat. She had said just what he was thinking.

He had been mortified by the way he fell on her on Friday night, but Bonny had just laughed it off. By Saturday morning, John felt he’d mended the fences. They’d made love again for half the night and this time he’d made sure he thought only of pleasing her.

The time had just flown by. On Saturday they had toured the shops in Regent Street and Bond Street, and though John had never liked shopping before, Bonny’s girlish excitement had won him over. He wanted to shower her with presents, and he was quite happy to sit back in a chair and watch her try on every dress in the shop. He enjoyed watching her facial expressions, the way she wrinkled her nose when she wasn’t sure about something, to see the tip of her tongue emerge from her lips as she scanned through the rails, and her look of triumph when she came out of the changing-room in a dress that was simply stunning. He had fully expected her to be greedy, but she would accept nothing but that one plain black dress.

He wished he could fully explain to her that until this weekend his life had been only work. He might be respected as the top man in his field, travelling the world and seeing sights few other men even dreamed of. But it was a lonely life, and until now, with Bonny beside him, he hadn’t fully realised just how empty. He had no immediate family left. His godmother was welcoming enough whenever he came home to London, arranging dinner parties and social events for his benefit, and he had friends too, but there was no one special person waiting for him eagerly.

On Saturday evening they queued for an hour in the cold at the Odeon in Leicester Square to see Danny Kaye in
The Secret World of Walter Mitty
. Just the feel of Bonny’s hand in his warmed him. Once inside, laughing along with hundreds of strangers, he put his arm round her and felt like an excited adolescent out on his first date.

Today they’d stayed in bed until eleven, dozing between bouts of sweet, delicious love-making. A walk in Green Park, lunch at the Ritz, then stumbling back here, desperate to be alone together.

‘I want to ask you to marry me,’ he said hoarsely, the lump in his throat making speech difficult. ‘But I can’t for a couple of years, Bonny. I’ve too many important assignments lined up. Will you wait for me?’

Bonny hesitated before answering. This weekend hadn’t quite turned out as she expected. She’d come plotting to make this serious, vulnerable man fall for her completely, but although she’d succeeded, somehow he’d turned it around and now she felt vulnerable. Was she falling in love with him? She hadn’t thought it could ever happen to her again.

John had surprised her over and over again in the last three days. He was a passionate and tender lover, far more capable of fun than she’d imagined, and so very generous. It felt right being with him; no secrecy, a future together, something she’d never had with Magnus. Now he was finally proposing. It was what she aimed for, what she wanted, but she couldn’t wait for two whole years! How could she go back to living in digs, moving from place to place? She wanted to live like this permanently, with a lovely bathroom, good food and soft beds. She’d just wither up and die if she had to spend another winter in places like Rotherham, Scunthorpe and Birmingham.