Bonds of Matrimony (19 page)

'No. They're five poems by Mathilde Wesendonck, who was a friend of his. He set them to music for her. They sound better when it's raining,' she added. 'There's always something of the excitement of a storm in his music.' She added, 'I like storms!'

He gave her a quick look. 'Love of storms seems a mutual feeling. Did I tell you I brought you a present from the Sudan?'

'I shouldn't have thought you'd have had time to go shopping,' she said.

'I didn't. I persuaded a friend of mine to fly it out with him. His wife bought it in Vienna, following my detailed instructions as to what I wanted. Want to see?'

She nodded. Did he have friends all over the world, waiting to do his bidding? She put the dish in the oven to finish cooking and then stood in the middle of the kitchen, not knowing whether to go or stay.

'Shut your eyes,' he commanded, 'and hold out your hands.'

She did as she had been asked and felt his lips against hers. Her eyes flew open and he dropped the most seductively beautiful nightdress into her hands at the same moment.

'Benedict!' she exclaimed. 'But I've never worn anything— Is this - for me?'

'It's not as young and sweet as the one you made yourself,' he said. 'I like that one too, but this one is to match the Greek fire in your heart. This one is for tonight!'

'But Greek fire was a terrible weapon!'

'Oh, terrible!' he mocked her. 'Believe me, I know! I've been on the receiving end —'

'You mean, that's how you think of me?'

His arms came round her, holding her so tightly that she couldn't move if she wanted to.

'I like spoiling you,' he said in her ear. 'I love you very much, Liebling, more than you'll ever know.' 'I love you too!'

He wouldn't allow her to say anything else, but kissed her lips, her eyes, her brow, and then her lips again, stirring her to a passion that leapt up within her to meet and complement his own for her. Then with an effort that she felt like an electric shock down her body, he put her away from him and sat her down on one of the wooden kitchen chairs, starting to rub her hair dry on the nearest towel that came to hand.

'We have time, sweetheart. We have all the time in the world! And I don't think I'm a stranger to you any longer, am I? We'll eat your meal, and drink wine - not retsina! - and you can flirt with me all you want to. Because afterwards, my lovely wife, my time is coming!'

And the rain thundered down on the roof, mixed with the final chords of the last of the Wagnerian songs, bringing life to the countryside for another year.