Moth to the Flame (15 page)

Davina was his. Claws, complications, contradictions and all.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

Jared rubbed a hand wearily across his forehead as the red curtains got stuck half-way across the stage. Beside him, Alicia grinned. ‘It'll be all right on the night,' she muttered,
sotto voce.
‘At least we've ironed out the problems in the play; missed cues, spotlights that don't work, and all the rest of it are just technical hitches, aren't they?'

Jared leaned one arm along the back of her chair. ‘So that's the way it is?' he drawled. ‘My play's all right, so all the nitty-gritty little problems are your headache!'

Alicia laughed, but was acutely aware of his every movement. The way his T-shirt clung to his muscles and fluttered at the neck with every breath he took. The scent of his aftershave. The touch of his breath on her cheek. Since that kiss in the punt, she seemed to feel uneasy whenever Jared was around.

‘Right, you lot can go,' Jared called. ‘We'll go for a full dress rehearsal tomorrow. Props! Did you hear that?'

From the colourful language that filtered back to him, he assumed Props had heard all right. Alicia grinned as the room emptied. Sin-Jun was throwing a small party in the SCR in honour of her brother, and they were all invited.

‘Aren't
you all a-flutter at being invited into the mysterious depths of the Senior Common Room?' he teased, lifting one finger to trace the curve at the nape of her neck.

At his touch, a wonderful but very physical tingle shot down her spine and she dragged in a quick gasp of air.

Jared, who was watching his finger curl a long lock of raven hair around it, smiled whimsically. He might be wrapping her around his little finger in reality, but as things went . . .

He was the one completely in her thrall. Her shyness, and the way she battled to overcome it charmed him. Her growing confidence, in both her play, and her ability to write, made him want to burst into song. Ever since that day in the punt, he'd been longing to kiss her again, but he wanted it to be special. A woman like Alicia should be wooed. With flowers, and walks in the park, and romantic candlelit dinners and . . .

‘So, I expect you're nervous about next term, hum?' Alicia, who'd been wracking her brains for something intelligent to say, suddenly felt his hand still on her neck.

‘What?' Jared croaked. ‘Oh, you mean Finals. Yes, I suppose so. But I hope to get a first. Arrogant so-and-so, aren't I?'

Alicia laughed. She loved him when he was laughing at himself. Loved him when he was smiling. Just . . . loved him.

Now, having him all to herself in the
quietness
of the dark theatre, she wanted to take the opportunity to learn every last thing about him. From his favourite colour, down to the way he liked to clean his teeth.

‘What'll you do, when you leave here?' she asked, a pang of pain lancing through her as she realised how very close that day was. Just one short term . . .

Jared shrugged. ‘I've already applied to do a B.Sc. in Engineering. I'll need it, if I'm to get a job with the firm I want.' He named a very prestigious firm indeed. One that regularly won contracts to build roads and damns and bridges, all over the globe. ‘A BA from Oxford won't be enough to get me in,' he stated matter-of-factly. ‘Not even a first. A BA and a B.Sc. might, though,' he added.

‘And . . . which College are you applying to?' she asked, trying not to sound too pathetic as she held her breath for the answer.

‘I'm staying here, of course. You think I want to go somewhere else when you're here?'

Her breath rushed out of her in a very audible sigh. Then she blushed. He must have heard it! Quick! Think of something to say! ‘What do your parents think of it all?'

Jared stirred restlessly and let her hair fall free from his fingers. Taking her courage in her hands, Alicia turned sideways to face him and propped her chin in her hands.

Their faces were now only inches apart. This time it was Jared who noticed the rise and
fall
of her breasts beneath the cotton sweater. The scent of her floral perfume wafting towards him. The sweet curve of her unpainted lips as she smiled . . . ‘Hum? Oh, they're happy. Dad's got a good job, so they won't object to me still not earning,' he grinned.

It gave Alicia just a bit of a jolt. Stupid, of course, to just imagine everyone in the world was as comfortably placed as the Normans. Jared saw the surprise and then chagrin cross her face, and bit back the fear that began to gnaw at him.

When they were working on the play together it was easy to forget the vast differences in their background. Then, like now, he'd suddenly see himself through her eyes.

‘You come from Bicester, don't you?' she named the small market town in north Oxfordshire.

He nodded. ‘That's right. I was brought up in a nice little council house in a nice little estate.' He knew he was being facetious. Knew he should shut up. It wasn't her fault that she knew nothing about his world. Why should she?

Alicia sensed only the sudden pain in him. The sudden conflict. ‘Jared?' she said softly. ‘What's wrong with a council house?'

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. ‘Nothing. Nothing's wrong with it.
It's
just . . . I never want to go back there. Oh, I don't mean literally. I mean . . . I want to go forward. To something different.'

She leaned closer, a slightly puzzled look creasing her lush dark brows, but a thirst for understanding in her china blue eyes. ‘Tell me,' she said softly.

And so he did. Holding nothing back. Sparing himself—and her—nothing. ‘When I was growing up, I went to a tough school. The corridors were always full of roving gangs of bullies, the classrooms were in sixties concrete blocks that were freezing in winter, not enough textbooks. Everything about it depressed me. But even then, at the age of 13, I could see that the school was my only chance.'

He looked at her, wishing . . .

‘Chance for what?' she prompted, although she already knew the answer.

‘A chance to do something with my life other than get a dead-end job, or . . . go to jail. Like my brother,' he said starkly, watching her closely now.

Alicia was shocked. She knew she shouldn't be. She knew, utterly logically, that what your brother did, or was, was no reflection on you. Hadn't Neville's presence here already told her that! But she was shocked. She couldn't help it.

She'd never even known anybody who'd gone to jail. Or known somebody who'd known somebody who'd gone to jail.

‘Yes,'
Jared said frankly, almost uncannily reading her mind. ‘My older brother's in jail. For burglary. He watched others swanning around in fancy cars, and thought the world owed him a living. Of course, the world didn't think so.' Now that he'd begun, he was determined to be ruthlessly honest. With both himself, and with her. Alicia deserved no less.

‘When I got into Oxford, and having gained an Exhibition, mum and dad were thrilled, but they didn't really understand what I was doing here.'

‘I want to meet them,' she said softly. And she did. They sounded wonderful.

‘You will,' Jared promised huskily. ‘Mind, I'm not trying to make myself into some kind of saint,' he laughed, a touch embarrassed now. ‘I'm in this for the money,' he said drolly. ‘I want to get rich. One day, start my own company. Be one of those rich cat company chairmen.'

‘A chairman who still goes out to Colombia in his hard hat and designs bridges though,' she said softly. Her eyes were luminous now. Glowing like Ceylon sapphires in the darkness of the theatre, and Jared caught his breath. She had him pegged. Right down to his last dream . . . He could see the adoration in her eyes. But wanted more. Something much more lasting than that. She was so young still . . . It made him afraid.

‘Alicia,' he said softly. ‘You know, Agatha
Christie
travelled all over the world with that archaeologist husband of hers. You could come to Colombia with me. Write about a murder on a construction site.'

She wondered if he was joking. Or if he really meant . . . could possibly mean . . . could actually be asking her to go with him. To stay with him.

‘Jared,' she said softly, but he was already leaning across to her. The hand, which had played so gently with a tendril of her hair, now suddenly cupped the back of her skull, drawing her closer to him. She just had time to draw in a quick breath, close her eyes, and then his lips were on hers. Gentle at first, then moving with a growing hunger. He pulled her closer, dragging her half on to his lap. She felt the hard firmness of his thighs against her own. Her arms came around him, linking behind his neck, her breasts pressed close to him. He moaned, leaning back in the seat, until he and Alicia were sprawled across three of the front-row seats. Jared could feel an armrest press painfully against his back, but ignored it.

She was lying on top of him, the curtain of her raven hair spilling over them, enclosing them in a dark, secret place, where their lips met, and their mind fused, and their bodies pulsated against one another. They were in a private world, a creation of their own making. She ran her hand down over his ribs, into the indentation of his waist and then across his
sensitive
stomach, which shuddered at the teasing play of her fingers. He felt his calf muscles jerk as she moved one of her knees, accidentally brushing against the hardness of his shaft underneath the jeans.

He moaned again. Alicia had never felt such power over a man. Or such lack of control over herself. She lifted her lips, noticed that the top button of his shirt had come undone, saw the pale gleam of the skin on his chest, and before even thinking about it, dipped her mouth to press her lips against him there. Her tongue flickered out, tracing a path across his skin. It tasted slightly salty. And warm. And of something that was indefinably and
only
Jared.

Jared moaned again. His head fell back against the next seat, and his throat arched. Alicia watched entranced—her eyes tracing the chords in his tense neck, following the dance of his Adam's apple as he swallowed in compulsive gulps. Her legs moved between his, forcing them apart. Against her abdomen, she suddenly felt the hardness of him. It sent a ripple of shock, then of desire, lancing through her. He wanted her. No matter what else he was thinking. No matter how he saw her or the relationship—a quick affair or a long-term lover—right here and now, he wanted her. And, suddenly, it was enough. Any trace of prudery left her, burned away by the alchemy that was mutual desire.

Alicia bit his earlobe gently. Felt him
shudder.
Her lips trailed across that vulnerable throat, tracing the pulse which beat there so erratically, and felt him begin to shake. She . . .

‘Is anyone in here? Alicia?'

The voice came from the doorway to the theatre, and it brought with it a blast of cold air. With a muffled squeak of embarrassment, Alicia shuffled backwards, sitting upright, her face flaming. She hoped the darkness hid a multitude of sins.

‘Emily? Is that you?' she managed to get out, her voice wavering wildly. She staggered to her feet.

Her knees felt like jelly.

Emily peered into the darkness as her friend began to walk up the centre aisle. ‘Where's Jared? The party in the SCR is about to begin. Rupert's fretting that you aren't there.'

Alicia managed to smile as she stepped into the daylight pouring in through the open door. ‘Oh? Well, I'll be right along. Jared . . .' she cleared her throat, ‘Jared left a while ago. I dare say he'll be along soon.'

Emily wasn't fooled for one moment. Her friend had the rosy glow of a woman who'd just been seduced. Her eyes were almost glowing. Emily shot an amused glance into the darkened theatre, but very prudently hid a grin. ‘Right. Are you going to change?'

‘Of course,' Alicia muttered.

In the darkness, Jared heard the door shut, the echo bouncing around him. He groaned
again,
loud and long, his hands clenching into fists by his side. He was on fire! Although he would always love Emily for introducing him to Alicia, and being his ally in his fight to win her, right at that moment he could cheerfully have strangled her!

Sin-Jun beamed as Neville Norman accepted a sherry from the butler, and continued to regale Gareth Lacey with a hilarious tale about a play he'd reviewed at The Globe.

Rupert Greyling-Simms stood alone, waiting for Alicia. When she did finally arrive, she was wearing a plain, soft cream dress, that fell in gentle folds to just below her knees. A flower was embroidered across the left shoulder of the dress, with leaves which trailed across her breast and over her waist. With it she wore a simple gold chain, and gold stud earrings. Plain, low-heeled cream shoes and pale tights completed the outfit.

Elegant and understated. Everything about her screamed class. Screamed refinement. Screamed ‘Lady'. Neville pulled his sister effortlessly into his orbit.

*      *      *

Gareth murmured a discreet excuse, nodded to Sin-Jun, and made his way to the door. He was meeting Davina for lunch, and then going on to Woodstock with her. She was helping
him
tour the antique shops to pick out furniture for the cottage.

Rupert glided towards brother and sister.

‘You're late,' Neville murmured to her, careful to keep his voice down. ‘I didn't think you were ever coming.'

‘I had to make notes.'

Neville didn't like the glitter of repressed excitement in her eyes. Every time he came to Oxford, his sister seemed to have changed just a little bit more, and he was determined to put her straight. Nineteen was such a dangerous age. She could ruin her life so easily.

‘I hope that director of yours has been giving you a wide berth,' he said casually. ‘After paying the man ten thousand to leave you alone, I would hate to think he was reneging on our agreement.'