He leaned back against the pillows in a state of deep content. It was a strange feeling, and one he’d never known before-or not for twenty years. After a good night’s sleep and a large breakfast he should be ready to leap out of bed. Instead a heaviness seemed to weigh down his limbs, and he wanted only to stay here, happy to be in her hands. For years he’d known no comfort such as this, nobody to say, ‘Stay there and let me look after you.’ He hadn’t asked for it, couldn’t take it, and would have fiercely rejected the offer.
But suddenly it was simple. All you had to do was give in, let go, trust somebody you loved. Slowly he slid down in the bed, abandoning himself to the sweet warmth and content that he wanted to last for ever. It was bliss to be free from strain, to let the thoughts fade away, taking the worries with them.
Angie set things down quietly in the kitchen and went quickly back to the bedroom, her heart singing. Their troubles were over. She’d made the longed-for break through, he would open his arms in welcome, and then…
She pushed open the bedroom door.
He was asleep.
But he couldn’t be. He’d only just woken up.
Then her indignation faded as she crept closer and saw that his face was as she’d never seen it before, relaxed and untroubled, like a child’s face before the discovery of pain. He looked as if he might actually know how to be happy, and that too was new, she realised.
Tenderness wrenched at her heart. She wanted to enfold him in her arms and promise to make everything well for him. Moving softly, she eased herself onto the bed and dared to stroke his hair. He stirred but didn’t awaken. He looked, she realised, as though nothing could awaken him for a long time, as though he were sleeping away the cares of a whole lifetime.
And perhaps, she thought, that was what he needed to do. She crept away, closing the door softly behind her.
He lay almost motionless for the rest of the day and most of the evening. Sometimes Angie would look in, hear his even breathing, and back quietly out again. It might have seemed like a wasted day, but she was certain that in the peaceful silence his barriers were coming down. Her time would come.
Late in the evening, after a shower, she slipped into the bedroom, and quietly opened the shutters to look out on the mountains. The brilliant moon turned the snow to silver and cast a pale glow over the bedroom. The sudden light caused Bernardo to stir, and in an instant she was there beside him, reaching out, touching his face. Then his eyes opened directly on her, and there was a look in them that made her heart beat faster.
‘Have you been there all the time?’ he murmured.
She shook her head. ‘Only the last few minutes.’
‘I thought you were there-you seemed to be with me every moment.’
‘Only my heart-
He opened his arms to her, and now she was free to go into them, returning his eager embrace with all her heart.
‘Let me hold you,’ he said thickly. ‘I’ve thought about nothing else.’
His mouth cut off her answer. His hands were pulling away the towel, drawing her naked body against his own. She ran her hands luxuriously over him, savouring its hard, compact maleness, the steely, tensile strength. She wanted him so much she could hardly bear it.
It seemed as though he would kiss her everywhere at once. His lips dropped burning kisses on her mouth, her neck, her breasts. They were already full and peaked with desire for him, waiting for him to tease them lovingly. She let out a long gasp of pleasure at the feel of his tongue rasping gently against first one, then the other, taking his time, letting the pleasure build slowly, taking her over, while she entwined her fingers in his hair and gave herself up to her feelings.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he murmured, regarding her in the moonlight. ‘I’ve tried to picture you so often, but I never came close to the reality.’
‘Not even in red flannel “coms”?’ she teased.
He gave a splutter of laughter. She joined in and then his arms were tight around her again, his head against her breast, laughing helplessly, and it was a good sound from this man who found it so hard to laugh.
‘You wretch,’ he growled. ‘You were tormenting me that day on purpose.’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘and what are you going to do about it?’
‘This,’ he said, teasing her purposefully, ‘and this-’
‘Oh, darling-
She offered herself joyfully to his increasingly intimate caresses, telling him by her movements that she was his whenever he wished. But a fever of impatience was growing in her and she ached with the need to be one with him.
At last he moved over her, moving slowly, always waiting for her until he was certain that her desire was in harmony with his own. She reached up for him, eager to feel him inside her, and as he entered she gave a soft cry of need and fulfilment that was cut off by the pressure of his lips.
How could such perfect union be achieved at the first loving? Or perhaps it was a first loving in name only, and these two had already loved each other to satiety in their hearts and souls before their bodies were matched. Angie only knew each of her movements was informed by her deep knowledge of him, and that every touch, every caress he gave her was instinctively perfect.
In the moonlight she could see his face, not completely, but enough to discern its gentle expression. This man, so rough and awkward in his everyday life, had the subtlety to grow close to a woman when he didn’t have to use words. And he had the tenderness to make her heart over-flow, as long as he could show his feelings in actions, in caresses, and soft murmurings.
He could read her wishes by instinct, and knew exactly the moment to hold back and give her time, then reclaim the initiative and love her more vigorously. And as she felt this she gave herself up to him joyfully, knowing that she could trust him at least as well as she could trust herself.
Afterwards as she nestled against him, she received another surprise. In all her earlier relationships-mini-loves, as she thought of them, not to be compared with this love that swamped all others-she had never been troubled by jealousy. She felt it now for the first time.
It was easy to guess how much competition there would be for Bernardo’s attention, she thought. Behind him stretched a whole hinterland of thoughts, feelings, troubles-and loves-of which she knew nothing. And suddenly it mattered.
‘What are you thinking to make you so quiet?’ he murmured.
‘Thoughts you wouldn’t like,’ she said darkly. ‘Possessive thoughts, jealous thoughts.’
He laughed, the first natural, trouble free amusement she’d ever heard from him.
‘You’re wrong,’ he said. ‘I do like that.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘It’s nice to know all the possessiveness isn’t on my side. But never be jealous,
‘Whatever-has-been-in-the-past?’ she echoed slowly.
‘In future there is only you. Come here-and let me show you.’
CHAPTER NINE
ANGIE awoke at first light, still warm and luxuriously full of his loving. But when she stretched out her arms the bed was empty. Bernardo was sitting by the window looking down into the valley as it emerged silently from the grey mists. She slipped out of bed, pulled on a wrap and went to him. He didn’t look at her, but his arms went about her at once, drawing her tightly against him.
‘What are you looking at down there?’ she whispered.
His reply surprised her. ‘Ghosts.’
‘Are there many?’
‘Too many.’
