Page 25 of The Society Catch
‘Memory is a strange thing. The bad times, the nights when it was raining or snowing, or when the enemy was close and no-one could relax or sleep, the nights when we were all hungry and cold or wet and the wolves were howling and the wounded moaning, all those nights seem to blur into one nightmare. But the good times, the nights when it was dry and warm and there was no alert, I can remember almost every one quite clearly. It was best in the foothills where we had clean water and there was plenty of wood to burn and trees to shelter amongst.
‘The men set the tents out in lines, each with its fire in front. It was like a village, people wandering up and down, the women gossiping, sitting in front of the tents in the firelight mending or cooking, the smell of the burning wood and the pine cones, someone singing, a sleepy child crying.’
Joanna could tell from his voice that Giles was smiling at the memory. The caressing fingers in her hair had found the pins and one after another they fell out onto the floor or into her lap until the mass of black hair fell softly around her shoulders.
‘They were happy times?’ she asked.
‘Yes. They had a simplicity, an honesty. It was like a big family: one with its rogues and its problem children for sure, but still a family tied together with intense loyalties and one purpose.’
‘And what would you be doing on those evenings?’ He was running his fingers through her loosened hair now, lifting it and letting it fall. It was hypnotically sensuous and reassuring. Joanna could feel her eyelids drooping, although she had no desire to sleep.
‘If I were not on duty I might walk along the lines, visit menwho had been wounded, talk to anyone who wanted a word. Sometimes I’d eat with a group of them, sometimes sit and listen if they were making music. Other times I would sit outside my own tent, talk to my servant, write my journal or letters. Be thankful for the peace and the stillness. As I am now. You are very tranquil company, Joanna.’
She smiled, her eyes on the dancing blue flames. It had been one of her dreams of when they were married, to be a restful presence for him at the end of a long, hard day. It would never happen again, but now she could savour it now.
One of the pine cones exploded with a sharp crack and landed on the hearthrug in a shower of sparks. Joanna bent forward but Giles was before her. He went down on one knee and reached out to scoop the burning fragment back with a flick of his long fingers. He pinched out the remaining sparks and half-turned, finding himself face to face with her as she knelt beside his chair.
Her hair flowed over her shoulders and down the curves of her breast and, as she regained her balance, a few pins fell to the ground.
Giles put out a hand and lifted a heavy lock of hair. ‘Did I do that?’
Chapter Twelve
‘Yes, of course you did. You were sitting there stroking it as if it were a cat and all the pins fell out.’ Joanna tried to keep her tone lightly amused but her breath was tight in her chest. He was so close that she could see the firelight catching the golden stubble on his chin. He smelt of leather, a faint scent of brandy and the indefinable masculine smell that was simplyGiles.
‘You have beautiful hair,’ he said simply. ‘Joanna, may I?’
She nodded, unsure what he wanted, then he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips.
His mouth was warm and gentle and for a moment Joanna froze, not with alarm but in pure shock. Then she put out a hand to his shoulder to steady herself and tentatively leaned into the kiss. Giles’s hand cupped the back of her head, pulling her to him, and the pressure of his lips increased, parting her own slightly. He tasted of brandy and his body, so close to hers, was hot.
No man had ever kissed her like this and she was conscious of her ignorance and inexperience. What should she do now? What would he do? The answer made her gasp as his tongue insinuated itself between her parted lips, touched the tip of her own with a fleeting, startling, intimacy and then she was hard against his chest, one of his hands in her hair as the other caressed her neck, sliding sensuously down to her shoulder where the sensitive skin was exposed by the lace of her fichu.
His mouth now was firm, demanding things that her body half-understood but did not know how to respond to. She seemed to have stopped breathing and to be both freezing and burning at the same time. Her entire world was focused on the sensation of his mouth on hers, the invasion of his tongue, and she was vaguely aware that her fingers were clenched tight in thethick linen of his shirt.
Then, as suddenly as he had kissed her, he released her. Joanna opened her hands and sat back on her heels with a bump, her lungs filling with a deep, racking breath.
Giles got to his feet in one swift, violent movement and stood beside the chair opposite her, his face stark. ‘Damn it. I am sorry, Joanna, I don’t know what came over me. No, what am I saying? I know perfectly well what came over me and I should not have let it happen.’
‘I…’ Her voice seemed to have vanished along with all the strength in her legs. Her skin felt unnaturally sensitive and a hot, disturbing ache burned inside her.
‘I am sorry I frightened you, Joanna. Of all the stupid things to do when I imagine the last thing you want is a man so much as laying a finger on you. I had forgotten where I was, who I was with. You look so…so hauntingly different in the firelight with your hair down like that.’
Even in the gloom Joanna could see the tension in Giles’s face, the way he was gripping the chair until his knuckles showed white. It was incredible, impossible, but it seemed that kissing her had affected him as profoundly as it had her. And yet, he did not love her. As a glimpse of the power of physical desire it was disturbing and enlightening.
‘Giles,’ she swallowed and managed some control over her voice. ‘You did not frighten me, I promise.’
‘You are too innocent, too–’
‘No,’ she interrupted sharply. ‘I may be inexperienced, but I am not innocent of what has just happened. You kissed me, that is all. We were alone, it is late, neither of us was concentrating on the proprieties. It happened, and I am sure I should not say so, but it was very interesting.’
He made a sound which Joanna thought was a choked laugh. ‘You see, I have never been kissed before, not properly, and I donot expect to be again, so it was interesting to find out what it was like.’ There, that should explain why she had not slapped his face, or shrieked or done any of the other things a well brought-up young lady ought to have done.
‘Joanna, you simply cannot go around allowing yourself to be kissed because it isinteresting. How many other experiences do you think you might sample out of interest? You are playing with fire.’
‘Nonsense.’ Joanna got to her feet. She felt as though her legs were going to give way at any moment and she steadied herself against the chair.
‘Nonsense? Joanna, I do not believe for one moment that you have any idea of the danger you are in when you trustingly let yourself be kissed like that. Anddon’tstand there looking at me like that with those big green eyes: there is just so much a man can take.’
