No Time For Love (Bantam Series No. 40) (15 page)

“It is delicious!” she exclaimed.

“That is what I thought,” Wynstan smiled.

She spread out on the grass all that the Chef had packed for them.

There was a fish pate so light and so smooth it seemed to melt in the mouth. There were slices of ham cut fine as a pocket handkerchief, and small
Neapolitan dolci
known as
Sfogliatelle
made of baked pastry and filled with such delicious and novel ingredients that it was difficult to guess what they contained.

There were black olives exactly ripe because Italians think those are important to any meal, and there were
Crocchette di Patate
or croquettes which Wynstan said were a favourite in Naples and consisted of potatoes and parmesan cheese rolled in fine breadcrumbs and fried in oil.

Besides these there were a number of local cheeses and one speciality
Prouola di pecora
from the Sorren
ti
ne district which was made from ewe’s milk.

They were all delicious, and afterwards there were peaches which Wynstan insisted on peeling for her and putting in a glass of white wine, and there were figs and walnuts, another speciality of Sorrento.

There was coffee in a flask which had kept it warm and which Wynstan enjoyed more than Larina.

“That is better!” he exclaimed.

“Much better!” Larina agreed. “But the trouble is that now I feel lazy and not half so eager to explore the island as I was before we started luncheon!”

She packed what was left of the food, with the knives, forks and glasses back into the picnic baskets. Then she looked rather doubtfully at Wynstan who was lying back amongst the grass as he had done before the meal.

“I feel that we should start off at once and see the rest of Capri,” she said tentatively.

“It is too hot,” he replied. “No sensible Italian ever hurries about at this time of the day. Lie down for a few moments, Larina. A
siesta
is good for the soul as well as the body.”

Because she had no wish to go off exploring alone Larina did as he suggested.

Lying full length on the soft grass she was conscious of the fragrance of the flowers, the smell of freshness, as if everything was young and untouched.

“That is better!” Wynstan said approvingly. “I do not like busy women!”

“Is that what I am?”

“No. You have a serenity about you which I like and envy.”

“Just as I envy you.”

“Why should you do that?”

He raised himself on his elbow as he spoke and looked down at her.

Now she could see his head silhouetted against the branches of the trees and the sunlight coming through them seeming to envelop him with an aura of light.

“I envy you,” she said, “because you seem so sure of yourself and you have so much more to do in the world.”

Wynstan did not answer.

Then she realised he was looking down at her and she felt shy of the expression in his eyes. Suddenly he said:

“You are lovely! Lovelier than anyone I have ever seen before!”

As he spoke his lips found hers and it seemed to her as if he swooped down from the sky and took possession of her.

For a moment his kiss was gentle and her mouth was very soft beneath his. Then as his lips grew more demanding, more insistent, she felt herself quiver with the ecstasy that she had known before, though now it was more insistent, more divine.

It was as if a light invaded her whole being, infusing it with a strange glow and a wonder that was indescribable.

She felt as if everything beautiful around them was in the feeling Wynstan gave her. The blue of the sea and sky, the mystery of the island, the flowers and the very leaves of the trees were all part of the wonder of herself and him.

There was nothing in the whole world but Wynstan. He filled the Universe and she no longer had any identity of her own.

Finally he raised his head a little to say:

“My darling, I cannot resist you! You have enslaved me from the moment I first saw you in the Temple and thought you were Aphrodite!”

“I thought
...
you were
...
Apollo!” Larina whispered.

She could hardly speak, it was hard to do anything but thrill with a pulsating wonder because he had kissed her.

“What more could either of us ask?” Wynstan enquired.

Then he was kissing her again, kissing her mouth, her eyes, her forehead, her small straight nose, her cheeks, her ears, then her mouth again.

For Larina there was no time, there was only a glory which blinded, dazzled and bewitched her until she could no longer think.

Later Wynstan undid the muslin bow she wore round her neck so that he could kiss the rounded softness of it.

It made her quiver with a new sensation she had not felt before and now the breath came quickly between her lips and her eye-lids felt a little heavy, although she was not sleepy
...

“How can anyone be so beautiful?” he asked a long time later, tracing the outline of her forehead with his finger down the straightness of her nose, over her lips and under her chin.

“Your face is perfect!” he went on. “I knew when I first saw you that I had seen you in my mind when I first looked at the statue of Aphrodite in the Temple.”

“I had been thinking of Apollo all day,” Larina said, “and I was thinking as the sun went down that it was Apollo taking the light to the other side of the world and leaving me in darkness. Then I turned and you were there!”

“If I had done what I knew instinctively I should do,” Wynstan said, “I should have taken you in my arms. There would have been no need for explanations, no need to get to know each other. We knew already!”

Then he was kissing her again, kissing her until she moved nearer to stir against him, her whole body seeming to ache with a strange feeling that she could not understand.

“I love you! I love you!” he said over and over again. “I have been looking for you all my life. Every beautiful woman I have met has disappointed me because she was not you!” He kissed her small chin and the corners of her mouth as he continued:

“There was always something missing, something I could not put into words, but which my heart missed.”

“Is that why you have never married?” Larina asked. Even as she said the word she felt as though she had thrown a stone into the water and the ripples from it spread out and multiplied.

There was silence, then Wynstan said:

“I have never asked a woman to marry me, until now. You have secrets from me, Larina—secrets you have promised to tell me tonight. I do not mind what they are. Whatever you have done or whatever you are hiding, it is of no consequence.”

His arms tightened.

“Our spirits have found each other. You are everything my heart has been looking for and that is all that matters.” He bent his head again and now he was kissing her more passionately, more fiercely than he had done before.

He kissed her until she felt as if the ground was insubstantial beneath her, and the sky moved dizzily overhead.

He kissed her until it was no longer possible to breathe and she felt as if her whole body glowed with a strange light.

“I love you! I love you!” he was saying and she heard her own voice tremulous, and yet lilting with an inexplicable joy reply:

“I love
...
you! Oh, Apollo ... I love
...
you!”

He kissed her again and again, then his lips were on her neck evoking the strange sensations he had done before.

Quite suddenly Larina thought this is how she must die, close to Wynstan when she belonged to him and she was his. There would be no fear and no suffering in his arms.

“I love you!” he said again.

“Will you not
...
love me completely,” she whispered, “as a man loves a woman and makes her
...
his. I want to
...
belong to you ... to be yours!”

Her voice died away because she realised that Wynstan was suddenly still.

He seemed to stiffen and she knew in that moment that what she had said was wrong! It had raised a barrier between them and she could have cried out at the misery of it.

Slowly he raised himself, then without speaking he rose to his feet to walk a little way from her and look down at the sea.

Larina sat up.

She had made a mistake, she had lost him and it was an inexpressible agony, like a knife turning in her heart.

He stood there for what seemed to be a long time and she watched him apprehensively also without moving.

Finally he seemed to give a deep sigh which came from the very depths of his being.

“I think we have to go back,” he said. “There are a lot of things we have to talk about and I do not want to keep you out in the dark.”

Larina wanted to protest! She wanted to run towards him and say she did not mean it, to ask him to kiss her again, to feel the closeness and warmth of him, but somehow the words would not come to her lips.

There was nothing she could do but pick up her hat and sun-shade.

Wynstan moved towards the picnic baskets and now she did not look at him but started the descent towards the Marina below them.

As she went she was vividly conscious of his footsteps following her.

The sun was no longer as strong as it had been during the afternoon and Larina knew it was growing late.

Everything still had that transparent luminance and once they were in the boat she could see that the mountains above the cliffs were even more blue than they had been before.

Wynstan drove the boat speedily, but while they were rounding the island Larina had plenty of time in which to
wonder miserably how she could explain to him, how she could make him understand why she had said what she had.

‘Perhaps I shall be dead before we reach the Villa,’ she thought.

But everything within her cried out at the idea that she should die without Wynstan’s lips on hers, without his arms around her.

It was impossible to speak intimately above the noise of the engine and yet every second that passed, it seemed to Larina, might make it too late to explain, too late to make him understand.

They rounded the south point and when Larina thought Wynstan would head straight for Sorrento he turned towards her with a smile and said:

“We have missed our English tea. I think perhaps before we set out on the last part of our journey we might stop at the Marina Grande and have some oysters. What do you think?”

Because he was speaking kindly to her again, because there was a smile on his face, Larina would have agreed to anything.

“That would be
...
lovely!” she cried.

“And they have clams and very large prawns which I am sure you would enjoy if you have never tried them,” he said conversationally.

She felt as if he had deliberately set aside what had upset him and perhaps puzzled him.

He was being as kind and charming to her as he had been on the outward voyage.

Although she longed for the deep note in his voice when he said he loved her, although she wanted to see again the expression in his eyes which had told her he spoke the truth, she was content for the moment.

He wanted to talk to her and at any rate he seemed not actually angry.

“How could I have suggested anything so
...
immodest, so
...
wrong and
...
wicked?” Larina asked herself accusingly.

It had just been a moment of desperation because she had known there were perhaps only a few
h
ours or a few
seconds left, and she loved Wynstan with all her heart and soul and more than her hope of eternity.

N
othing mattered except him! Nothing existed in the whole world except his lips!

“He will
...
understand when I am
...
dead,” she told herself miserably.

She watched him, her eyes on his profile, knowing that to her he was perfect. Even if he were angry with her it would only make her love him more.

They reached the Marina Grande. Wynstan entered the harbour and brought the motor-boat up against the jetty.

The sun was shining and now the white buildings all along the water’s edge were diffused with colours—crimson and gold.

Behind them, the green mountains with their bare tops also glowed as if from a fire and the sea shimmered with it.

“I will tell you what I will do,” Wynstan said. “I will go and fetch the oysters and whatever else there is for us to eat. You set the table in the cabin.”

“I will do that,” Larina agreed, glad to have something with which to occupy her mind.

Then as Wynstan was ready to step ashore she said:

“You will
...
not be long?”

“No,” he answered, “the restaurant where one buys the oysters is quite near. I shall not be more than a few minutes.”

There were a number of small boys on the Quay only too willing to help tie up the boat. They stared at it excitedly, pointing out the wheel and the engine and chattering amongst themselves.

Larina went into the cabin. She found a cloth of gay red and white checks with which she covered the table.

In the same drawer were knives, forks and glasses which she arranged while all the while her mind was on Wynstan.

Finding there was a mirror in the cabin she smoothed her hair and retied the little muslin bow at her neck which he had undone and which she had replaced hastily with trembling fingers before they had started the descent to the boat.

In the mirror Larina could see her eyes very large in her pale face.

‘Oh, God
...
make him
...
understand,’ she prayed. ‘I love him! I love him so desperately! Make him understand and
...
love me again before I
...
die!”

Wynstan found to his satisfaction that the restaurant he had known ever since he first came to Sorrento was still in existence.