Laura's Locket (3 page)

‘Why so late? Can’t we meet for lunch?’ Could I keep sneaking out late at night and not tell Beth and Angie? What if something happened and I wasn’t there? They’d panic. I couldn’t do it to them.

‘I’m sorry, but… I have work to do. Only my nights are free.’

‘Oh.’ I leant back against the door of my suite wondering what to do.

Philippe braced his hands on either side of my head and waited. His face was so close to mine, our breaths mingled, and my heart hammered in my chest. My gaze wandered to his mouth again. I could almost taste his lips and wanted him to kiss me. But he didn’t.

‘You can’t or you won’t?’ he said.

His comment stung and my gaze shot back to his eyes. What I saw in those blue orbs both frightened and exhilarated me—an unfamiliar intensity, and hurt, desire and a whole host of other things I didn’t understand. It was irresistible, yet if I gave in, it would also be irresponsible.

‘Yes or no, Laura?’ His voice took on a pleading tone.

‘Yes, all right. Tomorrow night at eleven.’

He smiled, grasped my hands and brought them to his lips.

The sensible part of me thought of a thousand reasons why I should say no, but I’d stopped listening.

* * *

The next day, the rain had stopped and the seas were calm enough for us to take the ferry to Capri. As we wandered through the remains of Emperor Tiberius’s palace, admiring the beautiful wall paintings and statues, I yawned. Several times. I couldn’t take them in. Not only was I tired, but my mind was on Philippe and our rendezvous tonight. I experienced a thrill every time I thought of it—which was often.

‘What’s with you, Laura?’ Angie said. We were back in our hotel room and I crashed onto my bed. ‘You’ve been vague all day.’

‘Sorry, I’m just… tired, that’s all.’

‘Why?’

I grabbed the pillow and shoved it over my head, mumbling, ‘Late nights.’ Since it was the truth, I didn’t hiccup, which I tended to do whenever I tried to lie.

That night we ate in the hotel restaurant, and while Beth and Angie took to the dance floor at the disco afterwards, I excused myself and sauntered back to our suite to try to get a few hours sleep.

My wristwatch alarm went off. It was nearly eleven. I’d changed into another outfit before going to bed, so all I needed to do was comb my hair and brush my teeth. Would he kiss me tonight? The butterflies in my stomach danced at the thought.

The lounge area of our suite was dark when I stepped out of my room. The doors to the girls’ rooms were closed, so it was hard to know whether they were asleep or still out dancing.

I guess I can always take a peek!’
I thought as I tiptoed to Beth’s room and placed my ear against the door. Not a sound. ‘Beth?’ I whispered. No answer.
They must be burning up the dance floor.
Taking a deep breath, I left our suite and ran down the corridor toward the elevator.

Philippe was waiting. He was in black leather, and his beaming smile erased any concerns I had about keeping my meetings with him a secret from my two best friends. He had a bike helmet under one arm, and held another one. ‘Put this on, Laura. We’re going for a ride.’

‘Out of the hotel?’ I assumed we’d stay in the guest lounge. The cashmere sweater, tiered woollen skirt and boots I wore weren’t suitable for a wintery night jaunt on a motorbike.

‘I don’t think they’d let me ride it in here, do you?’ He gave me a heart-stopping, lopsided smile.

Before I had the chance to reply, Philippe grabbed my hand and made for the exit. A silver motorcycle stood beneath the gleam of a full moon. Its sleek lines resembled a powerful animal ready to spring.

‘Yours?’ I asked.

‘Mine.’ He removed his black leather jacket and placed it around my shoulders. ‘Put this on.’

I slipped my arms into the sleeves, still warm from his body, and hugged it to me. ‘Philippe, I don’t think this is a good idea.’ A tinge of fear crept through me. It was one thing to meet in the confines of the hotel, but another entirely to go with him somewhere unknown. After all, I’d only known him a couple of days, or nights, to be precise. I also remembered the promise I made my parents.

Philippe took my face between his hands. ‘You’re afraid. Don’t be. As I said last night, I would never harm you or expose you to danger. Please, trust me.’

I desperately wanted to, but the sensible part of my brain was screaming at me to turn around and go back to my room.

‘If I promise to bring you back here within a few hours, walking through these doors,’ he pointed to the hotel’s sliding glass doors, ‘and safely in bed by three, will you come?’

There was a deep yearning in his eyes I couldn’t resist, and somewhere within me, I knew he spoke the truth; that I was safe with him. I stopped listening to the sensible part of me. ‘All right, I’ll come.’

His lips lightly brushed mine and my pulse went into hyperdrive. ‘Put the helmet on,’ he said. ‘There’s a place I want to show you.’

‘Aren’t you cold in just that T-shirt?’ I asked while I buckled the chinstraps.

‘Don’t feel it. Ready?’ The engine roared to life.

‘Ready.’ Wrapped warmly within Philippe’s jacket, I straddled the seat behind him, slid my arms around his chest and felt the stone-hard muscles beneath the cotton fabric. I inhaled the scent of leather and spice—Philippe’s scent.

We sped into the night, through narrow cobblestone streets and along the serpentine, cliff-side road. He handled the bike with such confidence, managing the twists and turns with ease in the dark, I found myself enjoying the freedom of the open road, even the biting cold wind on my face.

A few minutes later, Philippe slowed down, turned off the road onto a lookout, switched off the engine and cut the headlight.

For a moment we were swallowed up by the dark, until my eyes adjusted to the silvery glow thrown by the full moon. There it hung, like a celestial pearl, its ribbon of light casting a liquid trail over the sea. It appeared close enough to touch. Just a step away. Only the crashing of the waves on the shore, far below, revealed how close we stood to the edge.

I inhaled deeply, letting the salty flavor fill my lungs. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, as I removed my bike helmet.

‘Smugglers used these coves for centuries. There are caves all along this coast. But that’s not what I brought you here to see.’ He swung off the seat, lifted me off the bike and pulled me into his arms. My heart thundered in my chest as his intense gaze bored into mine. He brushed the back of his knuckles down the side of my face. ‘Soon, I’ll kiss you the way you should be kissed.’

My knees almost turned to marshmallow at his words, and my breath stopped somewhere between my lungs and my throat.

‘Not much further now, but there are many steps. I don’t want you to trip.’ He hoisted me into his arms and began to descend a steep set of stairs leading down to the beach.

‘What about you?’ I asked. If he tripped we’d both go for a ride!

He laughed, kissed me on the nose and took the stairs two at a time. I couldn’t look and instead, I gazed up at the stream of unfamiliar northern stars that blinked in and out of the clouds.

When he reached the bottom, Philippe lowered me to my feet. Less than a hundred feet away was a small hut, its windows alight with a cosy glow. With my hand in his, Philippe led the way to, what I assumed was, a fisherman’s hut.

There was no one else around; no winking lights from yachts out to sea; no glare from headlights of passing cars; no human voices. Apart from the crunch of our boots on the pebbled shore, the lapping of the waves on the beach—and the erratic thumping of my heart—all was silent.

We were alone. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, I wasn’t afraid.

He opened the door to rev
eal a fire in the grate. On the wooden table and along the windowsills, thick white candles spluttered in the draught from the open door. Fishing nets were strung across the ceiling and walls. The aroma of burning wood mingled with a strong scent of the sea.

‘You did all this?’ I asked.

‘I wanted it to be perfect,’ he said, and his lips grazed my neck.

My body shivered in anticipation. Was this the night? But why here? ‘Why so far away?’

‘No interruptions.’ He closed the door behind me and turned the key.

My heart gave another thump.

A coloured rug covered the floor. Philippe knelt down and drew me after him. ‘I have something for you.’ From his pocket he extracted a small, blue silk bag. I could see an outline, but couldn’t make it out. He untied the string and lifted out a silver, filigree heart-shaped locket.

I sucked in a breath.

Philippe leant toward me and placed it around my neck. ‘So you’ll never forget me,’ he said, then pulled me close and kissed me.

His lips were soft and warm; gentle yet demanding. He lowered me onto the rug and pressed my mouth closer to his, all the while caressing my cheek with one hand. ‘Have you ever been French kissed?’ he asked after a while.

‘Yeah… kind of.’ My voice shook. The boys I’d let kiss me in high school had tried that, and it disgusted me. Their wet, slobbery attempts at thrusting their tongues into my mouth had filled me with revulsion. I wasn’t keen to repeat the experience.

‘Obviously unsuccessfully.’ His gaze burned into mine. ‘Let me show you how it’s done.’

Philippe angled my head, placed his mouth over mine again and deftly parted my lips. His tongue glided over my bottom lip, then the top, before venturing into my mouth, seeking admittance and a response. My tongue tentatively rose to meet his, and Philippe caught it.

I never thought I’d enjoy the feel of a man’s tongue, gliding and sliding over mine, tasting, tantalizing me, and leaving me begging for more. How much time we spent locked in each other’s arms, I don’t know, but my lips were beginning to grow numb from all the attention they received.

Philippe’s hand caressed my breast beneath my sweater. He lifted his head and gazed down at me. ‘I love you, Laura. Do you think you can love me back?’

His declaration took me by surprise. ‘So soon? I mean… I don’t know. I’ve never been in love before.’ Did constantly thinking about him, and not being able to concentrate on anything but him; wanting to be in his company only, all the time, constitute being in love? Then maybe I was.

Philippe chuckled, ‘You’re so innocent.’ His expression changed—sobered. He rose, went over to the table and blew out the candles. ‘I promised to take you home by three.’

The candles on the windowsills had burned low. Although the fire in the grate was still strong, the scent of the burning wood mingled with the smell of the fishing nets. It was pungent, but I didn’t mind. I could stay all night, but then how would I explain my absence to Beth and Angie? They’d be shocked—as would my family if they knew. I had to get back, yet Philippe had me spellbound and my conflicting emotions were waging a battle.

I sat up. ‘I know. My friends mustn’t see me sneaking back to our suite. I haven’t told them about you.’

‘What are your plans for the day?’

‘Just hanging around Sorrento. It’s our last night before we head off to Positano.’

‘I’m sorry, you’ll be tired tomorrow.’

‘I’m wide awake now!’ I gazed up at him longingly while trying to blink away the heaviness of my eyelids.

He chuckled, came back to my side and kissed me again, long and deeply. Although my breath left me, I didn’t want it to end. But it did. Philippe rose in one fluid movement, pulled me after him and held me tight for a moment before releasing me. I wondered why he hadn’t tried to sleep with me, and I didn’t want to ask why. In some way I was relieved. I wasn’t ready.