Larkrigg Fell (18 page)

In reality she sat with her knees jammed together and felt more tongue-tied and awkward than ever in her life before. And very slightly afraid. How very shaming and degrading this all was. Not in the least bit romantic. What was she doing wrong?

Should she tell him right away that she wasn’t on the pill, she worried? Or would that make him laugh, and think her even more stupid and naïve?

‘You look most uncomfortable sitting there,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you have another drink?’

‘No thanks, my head is spinning already. I think I’ve had enough.’

‘Never enough.’

‘You’ll have to tell me what you want me to do.’

‘Don’t you know?’

She shook her head, smitten into silence by her longing for him.

‘What makes you think I do?’

She smiled at that. ‘You’re a man.’

‘Yes,’ he said thoughtfully, his heavenly blue eyes on hers. ‘I am, aren’t I? And you do not quite know why you are here, playing this stupid game?’

‘Oh, I really don’t mind.’ She could have kicked herself. How juvenile that sounded, as if she were a schoolgirl who’d been told to report for some special duty. She couldn’t help but smile. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not very experienced at this sort of thing.’

He came and sat beside her on the sofa, pulling her towards him. There was an awkward moment as somehow her nose bumped against his and she gave a nervous giggle. ‘Why don’t you leave it to me?’ he said. ‘We give it a go, sì?’

‘Yes, of course.’ It wasn’t the most romantic choice of words, but wasn’t this what she had longed for?

He pushed her back against the sofa cushions and putting his mouth to hers, started to kiss her. His lips were not soft as she had imagined but hard and rather moist and surprisingly cool. She’d been kissed before, by young men at the school dances, and by Jeremy of course, quite a lot. But this seemed different somehow, as if it were merely a ritual, a prelude for what followed after. His tongue had invaded her mouth and she wondered what she ought to do with her own which seemed dreadfully in the way. She could taste the red wine he’d drunk which wasn’t unpleasant, because in a way it made her feel drunk too.

Then his fingers began to methodically unbutton her shirt and her heart gave a little flip of alarm. So soon? He slipped one hand inside and as he grasped her warm breast Beth gave a tiny squeal. She hadn’t at all been prepared for the pain of it as his hand massaged the soft flesh. He smelled of garlic and seemed to be breathing very hard but she really didn’t mind, she wanted only to do everything right and not to put him off. She risked putting one hand to the nape of his neck and began to caress his hair.

‘Don’t,’ he murmured, as if irritated, and she stopped, at a loss to know how to please him. Then he began to nuzzle below her earlobe but somehow missed and kissed her shoulder instead. ‘Drat, too much wine. Sorry.’

Then his mouth closed over hers again and she forgot everything but the dark need growing in the pit of her stomach. His hands were at her waist, pulling her beneath him. What would happen next? Would he manage to take off all her clothes, drunk as he was, or should she do it for him? And when would he ask her about precautions? Jeremy had been the perfect gentleman by comparison with this, willing to wait for the wedding that in fact had never taken place. Should she ask if he’d brought something or would that sound too much like an invitation? Oh, dear lord, why hadn’t she listened more carefully when Sarah had talked about her encounters?

‘Pietro?’

He didn’t answer, seeming to be concentrating hard on her bra strap.

‘I’ll do it,’ she said helpfully and yanking at the hook and eye, slid out of it. Her breasts felt suddenly wonderfully free, exciting her as they seemed to fall into his hands. But ignoring their ripe plumpness he reached instead for the hem of her skirt and slid his palms along the length of her thigh.

His breathing was a rasping sound in her ear, his hand now fumbling with her panties.

Goodness, was she expected to take those off herself too? And what if she did? His fingers made the issue irrelevant and she gasped, startled by the sensations he was creating in her even as she blushed at her own daring. Now his mouth was at her breast, swearing softly as he sought the nipple. He was pushing his body on top of hers and something pulsated against her thigh.

And in all this fumbling he had not spoken one word to her.

Oh, dear God, she must say something, this couldn’t go on. Yet all she longed to do was to close her eyes and not think at all, only experience the strength of his love. Beth was quite certain that Sarah would never have found herself in such a predicament. How stupid to want to be as reckless and sexy as her sister without using the same common sense beforehand.

He wasn’t even kissing her now, hardly seemed aware of her at all as he struggled with the zip on his jeans. She could scarcely focus on anything but these new, intoxicating sensations that robbed her of will, and the growing needs of her own body like a raging thirst within. She should tell him soon. Now!

‘Pietro…’ He’d flung himself off her and Beth felt the cold draught of rejection once again. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

‘I think I drink too much.’

To her utter humiliation Beth realised he was not aroused, not in the slightest. He’d tried hard but got nowhere. But was that because of the drink, she agonised, or an excuse when really he didn’t fancy her at all. He looked so embarrassed, so ashamed, her heart went out to him. ‘It really doesn’t matter. Just as well actually. I’m not even on the pill.’

‘What?’ He jerked, his knee knocking against her shin, bringing a sting of tears to her eyes. ‘What did you say?’

‘It doesn’t matter. I - I shouldn’t have said anything, only...’

His whole body seemed to freeze. ‘You are the virgin?’

She almost giggled then, but it was no more than hysteria. ‘Yes, I am still the virgin.’

Beth didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, or wish herself quietly to die of shame there and then. He hadn’t wanted her anyway, was no doubt only going through the motions, and yet had failed to summon up the necessary enthusiasm. He banged out of the room and she lay as if turned to stone while hot tears spurted from the corner of each eye and ran down her cheeks into the ear he hadn’t quite kissed.

Sarah lay in bed, showing no inclination to rise, for all it was past eleven o’clock in the morning. Beth shook her awake and told her there were things to be done.

She sat up, hair a tangle about her head, eyes blinking in the bright sunshine as Beth flung back the curtains. ‘Where’s Jonty?’

‘Probably up long since.’

A suspicious glint came into her eyes. ‘He never gets up early. Where’s Tessa? Have you seen her this morning?’ Before Beth could reply, Sarah was out of bed and storming across the room clad only in her sleeping shirt. She ran out on to the landing and flung open the next bedroom door. A surprised figure sat up in bed.

‘Has Jonty been here?’

‘What?’

‘Don’t play the innocent with me. He has, hasn’t he?’ Sarah glared ferociously as Tessa smilingly picked up the grizzling infant from his crib to hug him close. ‘Come on cherub, let’s find breakfast, shall we? Go and get dressed, Sarah. You look as if you’ve had a hard night.’

What a tangle of emotions, Beth thought, as they bounced along in Meg’s old van. They were doing some essential errands for their grandmother in Kendal, buying sheep nuts, cattle feed, chicken wire and such-like delights. They drove down a long lane that wound through the dale, passing lime-washed farmhouses with squat chimneys, drystone walls padded with moss and verges thick with cow parsley, spleenwort, and the mountain fern that grew so vigorously in this damp region.

It would be funny, Beth decided, were it not so very serious. Sarah jealous because she imagined Tessa fancied Jonty, when really she was pining for Andrew. And apart from a burst of unexpected protectiveness over herself of all people, Andrew hadn’t seemed interested in anyone, apparently going home early. But then he did have to get up at five for milking.

Then there was Jonty making a play for her which had made Sarah resentful and sulking. And having rowed bitterly with Pietro last night, this morning the pair had gone off happily together somewhere, blithely unconcerned, completely uncaring that the ‘game’ seemed to have caused so much upset.

Beth had wanted only Pietro, and having miraculously got him, had completely messed up her chances. No wonder he’d gone off the boil. Probably able to sense her neurotic fears and worries, and virginal inadequacy. But who did Pietro really want? Herself or Sarah? She sighed. What a muddle.

As if reading her mind Sarah said, ‘There was hardly any necessity for you to throw a wobbly last night. Jonty didn’t really want you. He was only saying it to annoy me. He likes to play games with people.’

Beth felt herself cringe, crashing the gear stick to change down as they approached the crossroads and the local school. ‘You mean no man would wish to make love to me? I believe you’ve told me as much before, several times.’

Oh, give me just a little of your confidence, she thought. Let me not see myself as the complete idiot you see.

Sarah cast her a sidelong glance from beneath long lashes. ‘Did anything happen between you and Pietro?’ And when she saw the flush creep up under her sister’s skin, laughed out loud. ‘You messed up, didn’t you? Played the virgin. Am I right?’ And shaking her head at Beth’s stricken expression, laughed again. ‘I know you too well.’

Beth was spared from answering this cruel taunt as a figure stepped out from behind the old stone schoolhouse and flagged them down.

‘That’s Andrew. What does he want?’ She drew the van to a halt and leaned out of the window. ‘Hello. Problems?’

Andrew glanced from one girl to the other and Beth could hear his clogs shuffling about on the rough stones. ‘I heard the van coming along the track so I thought I’d - well - have a word. I wondered how it went last night.’

‘How it went?’

He knew he shouldn’t be saying any of this but couldn’t quite stop himself. The thought of Beth in another man’s arms was more than he could bear. He had to know what happened. ‘I tried to save you from that Jonty Reynolds, d’you see.’

‘Save me?’ She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing.

 
‘Aye, from that daft game.’

‘I can look after myself, thank you very much.’

‘I’m not so sure.’

She heard Sarah almost choke on a giggle and Beth too tried to manufacture a laugh. ‘What is this, an interrogation?’

Andrew looked hurt and she felt a wave of panic. Surety he wasn’t falling for her? Oh, but that would be too dreadful. Didn’t they have tangles enough? It was Tessa he was supposed to fancy. ‘I really don’t think…’

‘He was making a real nuisance of himself, and that Italian. It were a daft idea anyroad.’

‘It was only meant in fun,’ she said more coolly, feeling she should make an effort to discourage him from the outset.

Andrew flushed. ‘Too much drink, and too cocksure by half, the pair of them. They need bringing down a peg or two.’

Beth rather agreed but didn’t consider this quite the moment to say so. Andrew would only read more into it than she meant. ‘Jonty has a flippant sense of humour, that’s all.’

‘Why are you defending him?’

‘I’m not.’

Again she heard Sarah’s stifled snort.

‘Looked like you were encouraging that Pietro.’

Andrew was glaring at her now as if she were in some way to blame and Beth felt an unexpected spurt of anger. Was he suggesting she was wrong to sleep with Pietro? What absolute cheek! Not that she had slept with him, strictly speaking, for nothing had happened. It had been a complete failure. Or was he suggesting she’d slept with Jonty Reynolds? Dear God, his opinion of her must be pretty low.

But she had no intention of letting Andrew Barton know anything of her business. She certainly wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being able to say it served her jolly well right.

‘As a matter of fact we had great fun. I hear you went home early.’ She saw his face change colour, go oddly white then deep red, right to the tips of his ears. ‘I had t’milking to do.’

‘Of course. As you said, cows are so tying.’

She heard Sarah’s stifled hiccup, threatening to choke her, and for a moment felt a twinge of shame. There was no really need for her to be unkind to Andrew, for all his clumsy interference. Beth revved impatiently on the accelerator, then spoke in her sweetest, but nonetheless most cutting voice. ‘Thank you for your enquiry but I’m fine, thank you very much, and I really don’t think it’s any of your concern. OK?’

As she put the little van into first gear and drove off, wheels sending up a cloud of dust she could see him in the wing mirror, still standing in the middle of the lane. And with Sarah’s laughter ringing in her ears, rich and throaty, it all added up to a very real sense of guilt.

Meg was seated by the empty grate when the twins arrived back at Broombank, banging doors and shattering the silence with their stifled giggles and chatter. They took off their coats and dropped their voices to a few whispered words.