Honey's Farm (31 page)

Lightly, he traced the outline of her body from breast to thigh. ‘Mine,' he said with satisfaction. He sat down beside her and poured the coffee, and when he handed her a cup, she held it between them like a barrier.

‘You are going to marry me, Eline Harries,' he said casually, but his eyes were clear and direct.

She shook her head. ‘No, Calvin, I'm not going to marry you.' She spoke quietly but calmly, and there was no doubt that she meant what she said. ‘But I'm yours whenever you want me.' She looked up at him in surprise as he took the cup of coffee from her and stood it on the table beside the bed.

‘Well' – he paused – ‘we'll talk of marriage later; in the meantime,' he said, with a smile around his eyes, ‘I shall take up the option on that offer straightaway.'

Slowly he began to untie the belt of his robe as he advanced towards the bed.

Eline sat up in bed and stared around her, feeling suddenly cold. She shivered; she had spent another night with Calvin, enjoying an almost wanton abandon in his arms. He had made her feel like a woman again, there was no denying it. Calvin, though she didn't love him, had woken in her a sensual passion she had known herself capable of. And yet absurdly, she felt, each time she had lain with Calvin, that she had been untrue to Will, Will who was married now, his wife expecting a child – how foolish of Eline even to consider him.

She had spent the night hours, once the glow of love-making had worn away, in sleepless remorse. She had lain beside Calvin's unfamiliar form and hoped he would wake and take her in his arms, make her forget everything but the brief sensations of being aroused to the heights. But the coming down again was all the more bitter.

The bed beside her was empty now; she must have fallen into an exhausted sleep by the time he'd silently left the room.

She felt tears on her lashes, blurring her vision; guilt etched a sharp pain through her body, and she felt, deep within her, that she had betrayed everything she held precious.

It was so foolish to have regrets for the wasted year, all those years she had longed for Will to hold her in his arms and make love to her. Why, she asked herself now, had she denied herself and Will the joy of being together? Why had she insisted that they must hold their feelings in check until the moment was right, everything perfect? So why had she allowed Calvin to take her to his bed when she didn't even love him? And yet she knew the answer; there had been a need within her to restore her lost pride. She needed the knowledge that she was precious to someone, if not to Will Davies.

She felt the hot colour flame in her cheeks. She had enjoyed Calvin's love-making, she couldn't deny it; she had thirsted for love, her starved body overcoming her mind that had urged caution.

The sheets slipped from her shoulders and she glanced down at her nakedness with a sense of despair.

Hurriedly, she rose and washed quickly in the water from the jug on the table. She dressed with shaking fingers, and all the time she wanted to cry out her shame and her sorrow, regretting now the indiscretions of the night.

There was no sign of Calvin downstairs, and it was with relief that Eline let herself out into the street. She turned from the door to hurry away from the gallery, and she felt the colour drain from her face as she came unexpectedly face to face with Will.

She could tell from the look on his face that he knew. How, she wasn't sure, but there were lines of pain around his mouth and his eyes, and she looked away from him quickly.

‘Why didn't I make you mine when I had the chance?' he said dejectedly, and Eline shook her head.

‘I know,' she said in a small voice. ‘I was stiff-necked and full of pride, and now I regret it.' She sighed heavily. ‘There's so much I regret, Will.'

‘Me too.' He didn't touch her, and she bit her lip; there seemed no more to be said.

‘Goodbye, my love.' Her words were softly spoken, but he caught them and his face twisted as though he would cry.

‘Goodbye, Eline.'

He walked away swiftly, and Eline watched his tall figure with a feeling of sorrow aching within her. She longed to run after him, to cry out his name, beg him to forgive her; but it was useless. He was married, he had responsibilities; their lives were no longer entwined.

She caught the train without a backward glance at Oystermouth, and yet every jolt of the wheels against the rails felt like a blow. Life would never be the same for her, not now. She had committed herself to Calvin; he had made that quite plain last night.

Eline turned to look at the sea without really seeing the pewter waves washing against the shore. She was remembering Calvin drawing back the sheet, staring down at her nakedness and running his finger over her body, declaring it was his.

And where had he gone this morning, she wondered with a small dart of apprehension. What was he planning? Because he would no longer be content to stand by and let her have all her own way; he was not that sort of man.

She alighted from the train in Swansea and stared around at the grey rain-soaked streets with a feeling of dismay; here, in the bustling town, her actions of the previous night seemed even more bizarre and out of character. What on earth had possessed her? She must have been deranged with unhappiness.

She walked along more purposefully now; she had decided, some days ago, to look for new premises for her boot-and-shoe store and had arranged to see a shop on the outskirts of Swansea. Somehow she must begin to make some sense of her life; she was a working girl, not cut out for the idle life of a rich man's paramour.

The building she was to view was an old one, but there was plenty of room for the installation of machines as well as for a cobblers' workshop. And she could well afford to expand now; what with the success of the gallery and her regular wage from Hari Grenfell for the window-dressing, there was no shortage of funds.

She felt a little comforted; at least she could do some good for children with foot defects. A surge of excitement filled her; hope began to replace the gloom of earlier that morning. Perhaps she could find fulfilment in her work at least.

She planned to start a savings club, enabling parents to pay a small sum each week towards the cost of a pair of boots. The profit would be slow coming in, but what did that matter? She had enough money, more than enough to live comfortably these days.

She squared her shoulders, determined to put Calvin Temple and all thoughts of sharing his bed out of her mind. He didn't own her; nobody owned Eline Harries, she was her own woman. Then why did she have the uncomfortable feeling that Calvin would not share her point of view?

‘Why are you giving the man what he wants?' Will sat opposite Jamie O'Conner in the tap-room of the Burrows Inn and sized him up, liking what he saw. The man was honest, and yet he was no fool; he was outspoken, and the thrust of his jaw showed determination.

‘It's not what he wants, it's only what he thinks he wants.' Jamie smiled. ‘Bob Smale believes there is going to be a road running through the piece of land he's put you up to buying for him.' He smiled without humour. ‘But I've made it my business to find out more about the scheme.' He lifted his glass of ale to his lips, and his eyes were full of laughter.

‘Plans have changed, then?' Will said. ‘And now you intend to sell the land?'

‘The plans have been shelved indefinitely. I don't think there will be any call for that stretch of land, not in my lifetime. In any case, I have to sell that land,' Jamie confessed. ‘I need the influx of capital into the farm, thanks to the work of Bob Smale and his cohorts.'

He lowered his glass. ‘Though for sure he'd never have got it from me if there
had
been a road going there. Oh, no, I'd have made myself a tidy profit on it.' He shrugged. ‘As it is, I'll have to be content with a modest gain, though the knowledge that I've made a fool of the man will help.'

Will leaned back in his chair, staring down for a moment into the liquid in his glass. He admired Jamie; he didn't blame him one bit for turning the tables on Bob Smale, and yet the man was a bad enemy; that much was clear.

‘Well, Smale will continue to believe that you are ignorant of his identity,' he said, ‘I will have my commission, and we'll all be happy.'

But would he ever be happy again? Will thought. He was tied to Gwyneth now; he was her husband for better or worse, and though he had tender feelings of affection for her and vowed that he would care for her always, his gut cried out in anguish for Eline.

Knowing that she had gone to the bed of another man had made him sad at first; now anger and bitterness had replaced his sadness. Why hadn't Eline become his? She had held out against him, and he had respected her wishes; and what good had it done him? If he and Eline had been lovers, he would never have taken Gwyneth to bed, and all the resulting chaos would have been avoided.

He became aware that Jamie was speaking again. ‘Then you'll be seeing Smale later on today to conclude the deal, I take it? Good.' He drained his glass and put it on the table and held out his hand to Will. ‘I'll thank you for your cooperation, and perhaps some time we'll do business again.'

Will rose and took the proffered hand. ‘My pleasure,' he said. He watched as Jamie left the pub, his hair gleaming brightly as he stood in a patch of light outside the door. Then the man was gone and Will was alone in the noisy, smoke-filled room – alone, he thought ruefully, except for the thoughts of what might have been that plagued him.

But now he must be positive. He must plan for his future; he would have a small capital to start a business of his own, and, though he was grateful to both Hari and Mrs Bell for their faith in him, he knew he couldn't work for other people all his life.

He had opened the branch of the Bell Emporium in Swansea a week ago, and it was doing well. The goods imported from Cardiff were proving a novelty, and the windows dressed by Eline were a joy to behold.

She had been reluctant, at first, to handle the dressing of a window with clothing, protesting that shoes were her business. But it seemed that, with her artistic flair, Eline could do no wrong. She had successfully set out the window with an array of nightwear that had enchanted the public of Swansea.

It seemed everyone wanted Mrs Bell's quality goods, goods bought on Eline's advice to replace the dusty stock that Mrs Bell had been so fond of.

Eline! How Will ached for her. She seemed so pale and so sad, even though her new venture with remedial boots and shoes, like everything else she touched, had flourished over the past weeks. She would become a very rich woman; she had the flair for making money at whatever she turned her hand to. But it was her vulnerable side that Will saw when she didn't know he was observing her.

Sometimes, when she was filling a window or selecting goods, he would catch a sense of something like panic in her eyes, and then he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her close and protect her – though protect her against what, he didn't know.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and then rose and left the tap-room and made his way to the solicitors' office on the High Street. He was to meet Bob Smale there and finalize the sale. Then, with his commission safely in his hands, he would put his own plans into action.

He hunched his shoulders against the coldness of the day and stared ruefully at the big shops flanking the roadway. He would have to start very modestly, and in the only business he knew, that of cobbling.

He would go back to his grass roots; from manager he would become nothing more than a workman at the bench again, moulding the leather, binding and stitching and cutting. The awl and the dog would be his tools, and his skill would at least make him a living; he would be independent, his own man. The thought brought him a grain of comfort as he strode through the winter streets towards the centre of town.

‘I love you, Eline,' Calvin said, ‘and this is my gift of appreciation to you.' He waved his hand around the large, empty sitting-room of the house he had bought her.

‘You must furnish it as you wish. I will foot all the bills, and please don't protest – you know as well as I do that I have money to spare.'

Eline looked at him, wondering what she could say to turn down his offer but with graciousness.

She saw him smile. ‘You are not allowed to refuse,' he said softly, his hand touching her hair. ‘It's what I want to do, Eline; please don't be difficult.'

She lifted her hands in a gesture of defeat. ‘Thank you, Calvin, you are too generous.'

And yet she felt bound, tied to him, by yet another invisible cord. His sexual demands she had acceded to, feeling she owed him that much. It had been she who had led him on, she who had instigated their first night of passion, and she realized she had turned on a tap that she could not simply turn off again.

And, to be truthful, she enjoyed his love-making just as much, if not more than, she had that first time; but afterwards, each time, she felt the same sickening feeling of betrayal.

He seemed to sense her thoughts. ‘Come upstairs,' he said quietly, taking her hand and leading her to the wide curving staircase. ‘I've something to show you.'

Her feet echoed against the bare wood of the treads, and, glancing through the window, she saw, far below the sweeping tree-lined hillside, the wash of the sea against the grey, winter shoreline.

‘I have taken the liberty of furnishing one of the rooms myself.' Calvin smiled, his handsome face alight with merriment. ‘I must admit to having an ulterior motive, but you'll forgive me for wanting you so much, won't you?'

The master bedroom was high-ceilinged and gracious, the silk hangings on the wall tasteful and expensive. Elegant paintings graced the chimneybreast, and Eline had to admit that Calvin was possessed of exquisite taste.

The huge bed dominated the room, a four-poster with silken drapes sweeping down to the raised dais on which it stood. Scattered over the deep carpet were rich Indian rugs in jewel colours that brought brightness to the dullness of the day.