The Hornbeam Tree (6 page)

Next he selected a jangling collection of gold and silver bangles studded with emeralds and garnets and slipped them over her hands on to her wrists. Then dropping to his knees he removed her sandals, rolled up the hems of her jeans, and fastened an assortment of glittering chains and charms around her ankles.

When he stood up again she was smiling, her head cocked to one side, as she waited for what was to come next. Inside, desire was pulsing through her with such a force it was as though every part of her was alight with it. She felt if he didn’t touch her soon she might beg. He lifted a hand and stroked the necklace again, running his fingers over it, watching his own movements, as though nothing existed beyond them. Then he raised his other hand and began to unfasten the buttons of her shirt.

She stood very still, watching his face as he pulled the shirt open and gazed down at her small, naked breasts and big, erect nipples. He touched them, as gently as he had the beads. The sensations darting through her were so acute they were almost
painful
. Her eyes closed, and she hardly dared breathe as he rolled and pulled and watched the changing expression of her face.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he murmured, and pushing his hands under the shirt on to her shoulders, he slid it down her arms, over the bangles and let it drop to the floor. Her waist was narrow, her navel bare, and she moaned softly as he smoothed his coarse hands over her, to the zip of her jeans.

When she was naked he stood back to look at her, his eyes moving from the pearl-studded chains at her feet, all the way up her long, slender legs, to the jewels at her wrists, then to those at her neck and ears. The eroticism of his intent was lacing through her, her nipples and labia felt ready to burst. He touched the necklace again, his fingers descending over the strands all the way to her breasts, where he drew circles and other shapes, teasing her with his thumb, while with his other hand he began to undress himself.

‘Let me,’ she murmured.

His hands fell to his sides, allowing her to unfasten the hooks of his tunic, and push it over his shoulders to reveal the hard expanse of his chest. Then she pulled the cord to loosen the waist of his pants. They fell to his ankles, leaving him naked. She wanted him badly and immediately, but merely pushed him back on to the chair, dropped to her knees, and took off his boots, her bracelets jangling, her breath turning ragged. His erection was as hard as the precious stones in her jewels, jutting and eager for her touch. She drew her fingers gently over it, feeling its beauty and magnificence, before standing to begin unwinding
his
turban. His mouth sought her nipples, while his hands circled her waist and pulled her closer to him.

With the turban unravelled, she ran her fingers into his short, greying hair, then tilting his face up, she pushed her tongue deep into his mouth.

As they kissed she moved to him, and descended over the full length of him, until he was buried all the way inside her. Her bangles and bracelets clattered and jingled as she wrapped her arms and legs around him. Her head fell back and she moaned softly at the feel of his hands moving over her again.

Holding her tightly to him he stood and pressed her up against the wall.

‘Does this feel good?’ he asked, moving slowly in and out of her.

‘Yes, oh yes,’ she murmured.

‘Do you want more?’

‘Oh God, yes.’

He moved harder and faster, going all the way in, and making her shudder with pleasure. His mouth found hers, and as he kissed her, she knew she wanted this to go on for ever.

He took her sharply and rapidly, slowly and excruciatingly deeply. He found the most sensitive part of her, toyed with it and made her cry out. He kissed her again and again, until finally she could feel him starting to come. Then his arms seemed to crush her as the rush came dangerously close. She was almost there herself, for the feel of him, the strength of him, was pushing her fast to the edge, but then he was carrying her to the bed, lying her down and using a motion she’d never known
before
to take her soaring through the barriers to an erotically shuddering release.

‘Let it go, let it go,’ he urged, as she clung to him, gasping and clenching him with muscles that were out of control. ‘Oh God, yes,’ he seethed as he finally let his own climax erupt. His mouth sought hers and he claimed it, kissing her harshly as the clashing surges of sensation continued to shake their bodies.

It was only minutes later, as they lay, still fighting for breath and holding each other close, that a knock came on the door and Sajid shouted.

‘Mr Tom. Have champagne. I am leaving outside door.’

Tom’s eyes closed as he laughed. ‘Good man, Sajid,’ he shouted back.

As Sajid’s footsteps receded down the stairs Michelle started to laugh too. ‘Do you think he knows?’ she said.

Wrapping her tightly in his arms, he said, ‘Probably, but who cares? His timing’s impeccable, because right now I reckon we have something to celebrate.’

She smiled impishly into his eyes, and felt her heart swell as he kissed her mouth, then her breasts, before getting up to go and retrieve the champagne.

She lay where she was, watching him walk back across the room to take two tumblers from a cupboard in the corner kitchenette. This was how she’d always wanted to see him, relaxed in his nudity, and sharing this kind of intimacy with her. It was a dream coming true, if only she didn’t have to wake up.

‘Don’t you find it strange,’ he said, pulling the
cork
from the bottle, ‘how we wait till the last to do things we should have done at first?’

‘Are you talking about the champagne, or us?’ she asked.

He laughed. ‘Us.’

She stood up and came to put her arms around him.

‘Which damned fool of us made up that ludicrous pact?’ he demanded, putting the bottle down, and pulling her against him.

‘You know, I don’t remember,’ she answered.

He brushed his nose against hers. ‘I don’t want you to go,’ he told her. ‘I guess I know you have to, but I want to keep you here like this, and just love you.’

It was what she wanted too, more than anything, but she knew it wasn’t possible, so she had to keep it light. ‘Wearing nothing but jewels while my master goes out to fight for a crust?’ she teased.

He smiled and kissed her.

‘You know I’d stay if I could,’ she told him, emotion starting to lock her throat. ‘Oh hell,’ she laughed as tears welled up in her eyes. ‘It was never going to be easy, and now this is going to make it so much harder.’

His mouth came tenderly to hers, and as his embrace tightened the need of their bodies began to build again. ‘Champagne,’ he whispered, when finally he let her go.

She watched him fill the tumblers, took hers and met his eyes as he said, ‘To the most beautiful woman I know, dressed only in jewels.’

She smiled and touched her glass to his. ‘I won’t wear them again until the next time we meet,’ she
said
, and not wanting to ask when that might be, or even if it would happen, she lifted her glass and drank deeply.

For the moment, the package that had come by messenger remained unopened.

Almost as soon as she’d put the phone down to Tom, who’d called to tell her Michelle’s flight had been delayed, but she was on her way now, Katie had felt tears welling up. It was annoying, because in spite of how difficult life seemed to be with Molly lately, and the terrible fear that was a constant presence in her heart, she hadn’t cried at all since they’d told her there was no more they could do. However, just those few gentle words from Tom were making her want to howl. She was still fighting it, trying not to feel sorry for herself, or frustrated, or helpless, but it was apparently unstoppable now, and it wasn’t Tom she had to thank for it, it was Michelle, because wasn’t it just like her to be late? And wasn’t it just like her to have someone wonderful like Tom in her life too?

Though she hated the way she was thinking, she could no more stop the flow now than the tears that were carrying it along. Wrapping her head in her arms, she buried her face in the stack of papers she’d been reading before Tom’s call. This shouldn’t be happening. She wasn’t this person. She was Katie Kiernan, the ambitious young investigative reporter who’d put it all aside when she’d become a mother. She was witty and lively, rose eagerly to life’s challenges, and never failed to overcome them.

She’d always loved her column, though watching
world
events from the wings had often been hard when she’d so longed to be out there. Molly had to come first, however, so she’d used her column to comment on political madness and highlight social injustice, which was her way of remaining in the fray. One day she would go back to it, and even during this last horrible year she’d managed to persuade herself that the dream wasn’t over. She’d kept up with it all, reading the papers, writing letters to editors, watching the news, listening to the radio, and she still did, but she was starting to wonder now why she was bothering, because who cared if she knew what was going on in the world? Why did
she
even care, when it was all death and destruction, and God knew she had enough of it going on here. Molly, her precious girl, the only human being in her life who really mattered, was doing everything in her power to reject her, and she just couldn’t seem to find a way to reach her. What a useless mother she was, what a total waste of time she was turning into.

‘Oh God,’ she choked, trying hard to stem all the pent-up fears and emotions, but they just kept on coming, and if her heart wasn’t breaking then it was because it was already in a thousand pieces. Why was this happening to her? Why couldn’t she at least have had a husband who loved her, instead of some loser who was too busy in the gambling dens of Vegas and Reno to be there for Molly now? He hadn’t even answered her letter, when she’d first told him she was ill. Just one cringing phone call, claiming not to have enough money for the fare to come back. He hadn’t even asked Katie how she was.

It was thanks to him and his miserable addiction that she and Molly were living where they were, because the proceeds of their London house had mostly gone on covering his debts. Wasn’t that just her luck that the bastard had come crawling back years after their divorce, not to tell her what a huge and regrettable mistake he’d made, but to make her sell the house and cough up his share or some Mafia lowlife was going to stick him. If it weren’t for Molly she’d have happily stuck him herself, but as their prized Kensington home was in his name – even though she’d been paying the mortgage for years – she’d had no choice but to sell up and bank what little was left after saving his miserable skin. Just thank God this little cottage had been wholly in her name, or he’d have taken that too, and then where would she and Molly have gone? On her salary they’d probably have found somewhere, but then the cheery hand of the Lord had swept in with a message from her ovaries telling her there was a serious problem. So, hey ho, off they came to West Wiltshire, the Bath Royal United and a local comprehensive.

How quickly life had changed, how fast the downhill slide in comparison to the uphill struggle. So there was no point contacting Barry Kiernan to help out now, even if she knew where he was, for he was hardly the kind of father Molly needed with all his drinking, gambling and Godfather connections – in fact, she had a job now to remember why she’d ever married him. Perhaps because he’d been quite charming back then, attentive, witty, and a rising star in their journalists’ world. How blinkered love could be, because the drinking and
gambling
had been a passion with him even then, she’d just refused to see it. And it hadn’t even been that that had finally made her kick him out, it was his confession that he’d always secretly been mad about Michelle.

‘Stop it! Just stop,’ she told herself angrily, as her sobbing grew harder. This much self-pity was disgusting in anyone, and being ill didn’t excuse it. It just made her as loathsome as she felt, for she should be putting Molly above everything, and Molly did come first, she always would, but it still didn’t change the fact that Katie was going to die never having really been loved by a man, not even Molly’s father, who’d only married her because she was pregnant, he’d claimed.

‘OK. Just go and empty the washing machine
now
,’ she scolded herself furiously. It was a lovely sunny day, so the sheets would be dry by tonight, and maybe she could light the barbecue later, invite Molly’s new friends round, even allow them to drink some wine as long as they didn’t get drunk.

‘A barbecue! Here! I don’t think so.’ She could hear Molly saying it now, which was why she wouldn’t make the suggestion. She didn’t want to deal with the rejection, or fall into another of the terrible rows they seemed to be having lately.

The phone was still in front of her, making her think of Tom again, and how lonely she was. She took it back to the base, tugged a handful of tissues from the box on the window sill, cleaned herself up and started to rework her shopping list. She’d been planning to go to Sainsbury’s, but now Michelle wasn’t going to be here she’d just stroll round to the village shop and pick up a few essentials there. In
truth
she was happy not to go far, because it was hot again today, and when she was at home she didn’t need to wear her wig. That was another thing she’d have to brace herself for, Michelle’s shining blonde hair, while all she had now was half an inch of stubble that was more grey than the mousy brown it had been before. Molly hated it if she walked round the house with it uncovered – it was too harsh a reminder of the truth, Katie supposed.

Tears started welling up again, making her wonder if she was ever going to stop, or how sorry it was possible to feel for herself in the space of fifteen minutes. She could be trying for some kind of record.

‘Oh my, what’s going on here?’ a voice demanded from the doorway.

‘Judy,’ Katie said, turning round as Judy, in her nurse’s uniform, pushed open the bottom half of the door and came into the kitchen. ‘Should I be expecting you?’