Page 76

‘That sounds rather mystical.’

She nodded, no smile now. ‘I believe it. There is no reason on earth that your path and mine should have crossed. So I’m trusting that, rather than my fears or shame. I know this isn’t right, Harry, but I also know it is not wrong. We were meant to meet, be pushed together by forces beyond our understanding, but here we stand, desperately attracted like two magnets. I’m helpless. I won’t fight it and live to regret that I could have experienced something so rare.’

‘Alex, we can hurt people.’

‘Did you think about that last night when you crossed that invisible line and kissed me?’

‘I’d like to think you kissed me back.’

‘Oh, I did, Harry, wholeheartedly and honestly. As you see, I am not running away from my guilt. I admit it. I am shameless. I’m being selfish. I’m behaving abominably. The awful part is I don’t care in this moment about any of that.’

‘I’m thinking of your position.’

‘It is not yours to consider; it’s mine.’

Harry pressed, wondering at the back of his mind whether he hoped she would change her will and save him the inevitable guilt. For someone who was decisive on the battlefront, he now admitted he was a slave to her decision alone. ‘I have nothing to lose. You have everything on the line. Do you really want this secret in your heart?’

She surprised him with a look that said it wasn’t troubling her. ‘The world turns on secrets. You have some, I’m sure. So do I. What’s one more? We can’t hurt anyone but ourselves if we keep our secret between us. And before you warn me, I’m well prepared for heartache, Harry. I already cope with plenty of it. My husband is not a bad man, but in all the ways I desperately need him, he lets me down. I’m not asking you to be mine forever . . . I just want you to be mine right now. I choose this with a full awareness of its potential repercussions.’ Her smile returned.

He swallowed, in a small way hating her honesty.

‘Don’t make me beg,’ Alex added in final warning.

His conscience accepted now that he was the weak one. He let out a helpless groan as desire became stronger than resolve, and in a couple of strides he had her in his arms. They held each other for a full minute without moving.

‘How long has it been for you?’ she whispered near his shoulder. ‘Oh, no, don’t answer that.’

‘Are you jealous?’ He pulled back to regard her.

‘Suddenly, yes. I hate your French vixen.’

‘Her . . . just Antoinette? Or all of them?’

‘You wretch,’ she accused, lightly slapping him away as he pulled her back into his arms.

‘I want to kiss you. And I mean all of you. Every inch.’

Her lids half closed as she groaned. ‘I wish you would.’

Playfulness was chased away by fresh ardour as Harry turned her around and without further permission began to undo the buttons of her blouse. As each pearl disc slipped easily from its home in the satiny soft material, he bent to kiss the newly uncovered flesh, the V-shape widening with each unfastening. And with each gentle touch of his lips to her skin came a sigh of fresh pleasure from Alex. He left the last two buttons fastened, slipping his hands inside the blouse that tumbled off her shoulders as he cupped her breasts and she leaned back against him.

Alex reached for the clasp that gripped her hair and pulled it to finally release a tumble of chocolatey waves. It was a mix of release and intense pleasure that caused his shoulders to slump, as this simple gesture made him realise just how much he and soldiers like him had missed the feel of a woman. He murmured again, ‘Don’t cut it.’

His breathing was becoming shallower after he discovered Alex’s lack of corset and the dozens of hooks, eyes and threads to contend with. He could feel her nipples responding beneath what was a thin width of cotton across her bust, seemingly held on by the narrowest of silken straps. ‘What is this?’ he asked, intrigued, as he turned her around gently to face him. His gaze fell upon the lace and cotton contraption.

‘It’s called a brassiere. It’s French; I’m surprised you haven’t already been this close to one,’ she teased, one eyebrow lifting but he was already distracted from the garment by the smooth swell of Alex’s breasts that sat high and proud against the outline of her rib cage. He traced the horizontal sweep of her clavicle, recalling the pain of breaking his early in 1915.

He shook his head. ‘Clearly designed to make men weak,’ he said. ‘I always wondered how women ever breathed in corsets.’

‘We didn’t. My mother used to swoon regularly; still does. She hasn’t abandoned hers. Mine’s gone for good. It’s as if I’ve been released from a prison . . . a man’s prison, for surely a man invented them!’

He looked down. ‘And so what goes . . .?’ He didn’t dare finish his question but she seemed to enjoy his sudden coyness.

‘So, Antoinette and all her friends haven’t taught you everything,’ she said. ‘I wanted to say let’s not hurry this,’ she breathed urgently, ‘but . . .’ She pulled her blouse over her head and undid her skirt with surprising speed to reveal the thinnest of lacy bloomers that she proceeded to push down and neatly but brazenly step out of. His mouth opened in surprise at her lack of modesty as she turned a milk-coloured bottom to him to leap beneath the bedclothes with a girlie shriek at the cold. ‘Hurry up. It’s freezing in here!’

He picked up the bloomers. ‘Now these are, how you say, sexy?’

‘Put them down!’ She laughed, pulling the sheet up over her mouth, finally embarrassed.