Truly I do (10 page)

She suppressed
a squeal as Russell playfully tickled her inner thigh, forcing her
to shift in such a way that he could start flirting with his tongue
while she was helplessly clutching the phone.

"Well we
phoned the hotel and they weren't sure but they thought you'd both
gone home, separately as it were. We were a bit worried but -
what's that noise you're making Julie-Anne? Is he there with you?"
For her last question Julie-Anne's mother had a syrupy tone to her
voice - she'd guessed!

Julie-Anne
released a girlish giggle. "Yeah, he's right here Mum. Sorry!"

"Why say
sorry? I hope you're doing all the thing's we talked about last
night my girl!" her father's voice cut in, "I hope you're taking a
few chances and letting yourself go to a bit of self indulgence and
adventure, eh?"

Shocked at her
own father's tone and suggestive hint Julie-Anne gasped. "Dad!" she
chided.

"What?" her
father tried to sound nonplussed.

"Well - you're
my Dad!" she mumbled, brushing Russell's adventuring fingers back
to a less furtive area of her body.

"Ha!" Her
father barked his wicked laugh. "Julie-Anne you're a grown up now.
I'll always give you the best advice I can, but I'm not going to
pretend that you're a twelve year old for ever - you are a young
woman and you deserve all the pleasures and joys that a young woman
can have. God knows I robbed your mother of too much when she was
your age!"

"I think",
Julie-Anne managed to gasp out while Russell pulled her free hand
down over the firmness of his chest, chasing the soft curls of his
masculine hair down to the point between his hips where hard
muscles rippled under smooth skin, "I think I know what you mean."
she half squeaked "I seem to be getting myself into just those very
pleasure and joys, Dad!"

Her father
chortled down the line. "Sounds like it's time to wish you - both
of you - a good night then!" he declared loudly in a bluff, happy
voice.

"Dad?"
Julie-Anne sobered for a moment, imagining the face of her beloved
father so many thousands of miles away across the world. "Thanks
for the support. It means a lot. You've been such a great
help."

"Good!" The
man answered. "Now, try not to get into trouble for a few weeks
will you. We've, erm, we've decided my ankle's better enough - so
we're leaving your aunt's place tomorrow for a few weeks away from
here - we're going to an area we've never been before so it
promises to be an adventure."

Julie-Anne
thought her father's message sounded a bit cryptic and his voice
suddenly seemed a little strained. But Russell was demanding her
full attention. "Oh. I'll miss you!" she told her father
gently.

"Hah!" He
barked his laugh again. "Just don't hold back girl, take all the
experiences life offers and make the very most of them."

"Yes Dad."

Julie-Anne
heard her mother call 'Goodbye darling' from somewhere in the
background. "Bye, then." she responded "Have a good time you two.
Don't go falling off any mountains and, figuratively speaking, I'll
try not to either."

"Hah!" . . .
and he was gone.

Russell said
nothing, but he pulled her down into the dark warmth under the
duvet until her body, once again, melted into the rhythms of
his.

*

In the
morning, even without the kitchen range burning at its heart,
Julie-Anne's cottage was a warm and homely place to be.

She'd slipped
out of bed at the break of dawn and, feeling deliciously happy.
She'd taken a warm shower, dressed in one of her new sets of silky
underwear - some that hadn't been soaked in the puddle the night
before - and wrapped herself sensuously in her new, silky, thigh
length red gown. Her lovely, exposed legs seemed to glow health and
energy as she skipped down the stairs.

In the kitchen
she quietly cleaned out the range and lighted it whilst using the
conventional oven to cook bacon, eggs and toast. Realising that
Russell maybe needed to rest for a while longer she put the food on
platters in the warming oven of the range where it would keep moist
and tasty until he was ready to join her. Then she went and stood
by the old butler's sink at the kitchen window and looked out.

Her cottage
garden was coated in a layer of sparkling, thick frost that made it
look like a magical wonderland. Although the temperature outside
was hovering around the freezing point, the sun was shining from a
clear blue sky, making everything twinkle and shine. She felt so
happy. She could smell Christmas in the air and found that she was
really looking forward to the festive spirit and all the treats
that promised to come with it.

By the time
Russell emerged Julie-Anne had pulled her box of Christmas
decorations from the cupboard under the stairs. She'd also put her
duffle coat and wellingtons on over her gown, trekked out into the
frost and, surprisingly easily, sawn down one of the living
Christmas trees that her father had, over the years, planted at the
bottom of the garden. The tree now had pride of place in the bay of
the living room window. Elegant strands of bronze and gold tinsel
had been fixed around mirrors and picture frames and there were a
couple of tasteful displays of holly and dried branches in big
crystal vases on her wooden tables.

She was seated
on the floor, untangling a string of Christmas tree lights when
Russell shuffled barefoot into the room. His face opened into a
broad, sexy smile when he saw her. He held out his hands and she
took them, rising up into his arms in one smooth movement.

"Good morning
my love." He said throatily, looking down into her face.

"Hi! I fixed
breakfast, are you hungry?" She asked.

"This first!"
he answered, bending his head to cover her mouth in a sensuous kiss
that sent her belly into spasms of delight.

"Lovely
outfit!" He eventually mumbled, shifting to push his hands under
her duffle coat and stroke his fingers over the silky gown at the
small of her back.

Julie-Anne
burst into helpless giggles. "I'd forgotten I'd got my coat on!"
she exclaimed. "I was so wrapped up in finding all the old
Christmas decorations and making the room look nice, I forgot to
take it off!"

A long golden
curl slipped over Russell's tanned forehead. As she lifted her hand
to brush it away for him, studying his rugged, unshaven features
she remarked "You really are a Viking warrior aren't you?"

Finishing
helping her pull off her coat he playfully slapped her bottom,
answering "Yes I am Celtic wench - so you'd better get in the
kitchen and prepare to feed me before I'm forced to plunder your
body as a punishment for not serving my every need!" His blue eyes
twinkled with merriment as Julie-Anne play-squealed and skipped
away from his clutches, toward the kitchen. Laughing, she responded
in a mock old English country accent, "Och, nay Mr. Viking! Best I
be off to toil at your beck and call, afore ye turns into a dragon
monster from Valhalla and eats me all up!"

Russell
laughed heartily, "I can see I've got a lot to teach you!" he
chortled. Following her into the kitchen he added "Seriously, is
there anything I can do to help?"

"It's all
ready." Julie-Anne reassured him. "I hope you've got the appetite
of a Viking warrior though, I've made plenty."

In her cosy
cottage kitchen, the bacon and eggs, toast and marmalade all washed
down with piping hot coffee could have been the most expensive meal
of caviar and lobster it tasted so good to Julie-Anne.
Occasionally, between mouths full, Russell would lean across to
plant a light kiss on her lips or to brush imaginary crumbs away
from the sensitive corners of her mouth.

Later, while
they were in the lounge, decorating her Christmas tree, Russell
gently asked her about her husband. For a second her body froze. In
the last few hours she'd almost forgotten her past. It was as if,
before last night, there'd been nothing. 'But', she supposed to
herself, on reflection, 'the past is part of who I am today. I must
come to terms with it all and try to lay my ghosts to rest."

"His name was
Andrew." She told Russell, realising that she hadn't actually
thought of Andrew by his given name since he'd passed away - and
possibly not even for some long time before that. She wasn't able
to say much about Andrew's work either. "He was a financier, in the
City." she said, gazing wistfully at the place where one of their
holiday snaps had once hung in its frame over the hearth. "He was
pretty good with money, we never wanted for anything. Of course
there's no mortgage to pay here and the bills are pretty small.
Andrew had good insurance too, so I guess, . . . in his funny old
way, he took good care of me in the end."

Russell exuded
kindness and empathy, stroking Julie-Anne's long hair and allowing
his firm, strong hand to rest for longer than necessary at her
waist while she stretched to hang a bauble on a high branch of the
now sparkle encrusted Christmas tree.

She turned and
stepped forward so that his hand slipped over her back and they
were, once more, locked together with their arms around one
another.

"It's very
sad." She said earnestly, looking up into Russell's serious blue
eyed gaze, "But I never really loved Andrew, I know that now. I
didn't ever once have the feelings when I was with him that I get
now with you. On reflection we weren't even very close
friends."

"Then you and
I" Russell growled warmly, "will be the closest of friends as well
as the greatest of lovers. We'll be everything together and nothing
but half of of a beautiful whole when we're apart."

He stroked his
forefinger down the length of her nose and further down to her
sumptuous, red lips. She kissed the light finger tip as it
travelled downward to her throat. Then she melted into the primal
pleasure that shimmied up her spine while his fingers caressed the
base of her throat before moving down to tease first one pouting
breast, then the other.

Her petite
body was pressed against the masculine firmness of his thighs and
torso. Her undressed thighs tingled where they leaned against the
warm, tight fitting denim of his new, black jeans. Her scantily
clad belly flipped with sensations of pure pleasure where he held
her firmly pressed to the muscular flatness of between his hips.
Her quivering fingers stroked and caressed around the rippling
muscles of his chest, slipping under his crisp white cotton shirt
to feel the velvety smoothness of his skin in contrast with the
texture of the fine blonde hairs that curled all over his male
body.

Smiling at the
irony that Russell had only just got dressed, she slipped his shirt
buttons undone so that she could feel him more sensuously against
her eager breast, marvelling at how this contact affected her
through the silkiness of her robe. Looking up into his face, she
slid her right hand up into the tangle of blonde curls at the back
of his head and asked "Truly?"

"Oh, truly!"
Russell affirmed huskily, leaning his head forward under the light
pressure of her hand. He gazed at her mouth for a moment before
taking up the kisses that pouted on her lips.

Somewhere n
the background Russell had left the radio switched on. Suddenly
Julie-Anne knew the depth of meaning of poetry and song lyrics, of
phrases about drinking from one another's soul and being in love
with angels, and all the words of all those silly love songs that
she had, until now, dismissed as nonsense. She realised that those
popular expressions of love meant more than she had ever before
been aware.

Wrapped into
one another's embraces, they sunk slowly down onto the hearth rug,
between the shining red and green Christmas tree and the cottage
hearth. As they tenderly, sensitively, generously and eventually
more urgently, made love together there, Julie-Anne also realised
just how it was that such impassioned acts of carnal desire were
true physical expressions of the depths of their heartfelt love. We
will be best friend and perfectly thrilling lovers, she thought
happily as she lay snuggled in his arms afterwards.

The remainder
of the time they spent together until Christmas seemed to
Julie-Anne to become a whirl of happiness. They shared their time
between her cottage and his rented place on Bramley Apple Lane,
although Russell much preferred the time they spend at hers. They
shopped together in the local county town and bought cards and
presents to send to her parents and aunt in New Zealand. The people
she bumped into at the village store, or when they ventured out for
drinks at the village pub, all seemed to be friendly and as as
happy as she was about how well she now looked. And everyone in the
district, it seemed, was delighted when she and Russell got tickets
to the village dance for New Year's Eve.

In the
background Russell made daily phone calls to solicitors and agents
to progress the purchase of his estate in the Yorkshire Ridings, on
the edge of the Dales. He showed her photographs of the place. The
house was a huge ten bedroom, five bathroom mansion set in 950
acres of private gardens along with three cottages and various out
buildings. The remaining thousands of acres of the land was divided
between a tenant farmer and a hunting and out-of-doors activities
venture. Russell did not have any plans to change the arrangements
with the farmer or with the company who managed the hunting and
out-of-doors activities. He explained that these represented vital
income and would make it much easier to keep the place up to a good
standard.

When they
discussed what it would be like living there they both took it for
granted that Julie-Anne would moved up there with Russell as soon
as he was ready to go.

Gradually the
notion of marriage and children became something that Julie-Anne
was also taking for granted. She never voiced these expectations.
For one thing there was hardly any time when they weren't busy
getting on with the bustles of the day . . . or absorbed by the
activities of their long nights together. Quietly, unconcerned, she
decided that the topic of marriage would be an appropriate thing to
bring up on New Year's Eve. Perhaps that was even Russell's plan?
Perhaps he was going to pop the question at the stroke of midnight
on December the thirty-first? That would be just like him, to get
his timing just right, to be so romantic and perfect. After a few
moments of such contemplation, she would forget all about it and
happily returned her attention to finishing a painted backdrop
she'd been creating for the village player's up-coming January
pantomime.