Conveniently His Omnibus(12)

At last, worn out by her thoughts, she fell into a light sleep.

* * *

SOMEONE WAS TOUCHING her skin with the lightest of movements, strong fingers moving against her spine. She moved languorously beneath them, enjoying the slow sweet wave of sensuality rippling through her.

Jon...Jon was touching her...caressing her as...

‘That’s it, Uncle Jon, you’ve got him now.’

The breathy whisper close to her ear made her tense and wake up properly, quickly rolling over.

Alex was squatting beside her, Jon bending over her holding one palm cupped.

‘You were being explored by a caterpillar,’ he told Sophy with a smile. ‘We were trying to remove him without disturbing you.’

A caterpillar! It was because of a caterpillar that Jon had touched her? Indignation and disappointment merged sharply within her. For some reason she almost wanted to cry.

‘Hey, come on, it’s nothing to be frightened of. In fact he’s very handsome, look.’ Jon extended his cupped palm towards her so that she could admire the furry creature and dutifully she managed to summon a thin grimace, her colour changing suddenly as she remembered how her body had slowly arched beneath what she had thought was his caress. Had he realised? She darted a quick glance at his face but it was mildly unreadable, nothing in the blue eyes to tell her what he might or might not have thought, and for the first time she realised how very, very good Jon was at concealing his thoughts and feelings.

After that it became ever harder for her. For one thing it was no longer possible for her to deny to herself that sexually she was attracted to Jon. That more than that she wanted to touch him and be touched by him in return. She tried to tell herself that she was having these odd fantasies simply because she knew they were impossible and that in that way they allowed her to imagine she was sexually responsive without running the risk of Jon discovering she was not, since he would never be her lover.

What made it worse was that she seemed forever to be bumping into Jon in a semi-nude state. He was working at the house and either he was just coming out of the bathroom clad in nothing more than a brief towel, or he was in the garden, sunbathing in a pair of faded denim shorts that fitted him so snugly they might almost be indecent.

And that was not all. Sophy knew she was challenging his sexuality. Knew it and despised herself for it, and yet seemed unable to do anything about it. She wanted him to react to her as a woman. But why? If he did she knew what the outcome would be. As far as she was concerned sex was something that was painful and humiliating. She was thoroughly confused by herself and what she was doing. Thoroughly and completely.





                 CHAPTER FIVE

‘I’VE GOT TO GO into Cambridge today—I don’t know when I’ll be back, probably later this afternoon.’

They were all having breakfast and Sophy inclined her head in acknowledgement of Jon’s remarks. From today she was going to start behaving differently, she told herself. It was pointless trying to attract the attention of a man who had told her that he had no interest in her sex. She had been acting very irresponsibly, and she was lucky that Jon was so completely oblivious to what she had been trying to do, otherwise he would have been very embarrassed.

Jon’s taxi was due to arrive while she was taking the children to school, and driving them there she found herself fretting over the fact that she was not at home to see Jon off. That such a small thing should have such a tremendous effect on her, was worrying. She tried to rationalise her behaviour by telling herself she was naturally worried because she knew that Jon was bound to forget some all important something but deep down inside she knew it was not that. She wanted to be there physically, to be with him, she realised on a sudden start of disquiet, not liking the conclusions that went with the realisation.

When she got back, the house felt empty. She performed her normal household chores automatically and then went into the study to check through the morning’s post. There was nothing that was particularly urgent but there was a letter with an airmail stamp from Nassau addressed to Jon and marked ‘Private and Confidential’. Was it from his friend? Or was it from the woman who had allowed him to use her apartment and pool? She didn’t like the sensations stirring deep inside her. She had no right to be jealous of any friendships Jon might form outside their marriage and besides, what was there to be jealous of? She had known when she married Jon what their marriage would be and she had been happy with that knowledge. She had also believed that Jon was as immune from sexual desire as she felt herself to be. And so he was, she told herself firmly, but somehow she couldn’t stop herself from thinking that maybe in Nassau he had discovered a woman who could break through his barrier of indifference. The thought made the unpleasant sensations lodged beneath her breastbone, increase. Tension held her body in a vice-like grip, jealousy tormenting her mind with mental pictures of Jon’s tanned body entwined with that of some unknown but lithely desirable woman whose face she could not see.

Telling herself that it was the heat that was making her so on edge and prickly, Sophy went upstairs, stripping off her clothes and standing beneath the shower, letting the cool water slide off her over-heated skin.

Only when it was starting to raise goosebumps did she emerge from the water, towelling herself dry briskly. It was too hot to work indoors, and she was too restless to concentrate on anything. She might as well spend what was left of the morning sunbathing, she thought wryly, hunting through her drawer for her bikini. As she stood up she caught a glimpse of her nude body in the mirror. The sun had turned her skin a soft, golden colour banded by cool white where her bikini had concealed it from the hot rays. The colour suited her, she recognised, her attention caught and held by her own reflection. It was years since she had looked at her body—really looked at it that was, perhaps not even since that débâcle with Chris. Now she studied what she saw, with careful eyes, noting the slender strength of her shoulders, the fullness of her breasts tipped with deep coral, the flatness of her ribcage and the slight swell of her stomach. She had a woman’s body now, not a girl’s, curved and feminine but those curves and the warm glow of her skin offered a promise the woman inside could not fulfill. She might look entirely female and desirable, but she was not, she reminded herself bitterly, and the desire she felt to reach out and touch Jon and to be touched by him in return must surely spring from some contradictory impulse inside her which knew quite well that it was safe to torment her in this fashion since there was no question of that desire ever being fulfilled. No doubt if Jon did make any attempt to touch her she would recoil from him as she had done from all the others, fearing his discovery of the truth about her; that she was just an empty sham of femininity.

She was supposed to be sunbathing, not standing here letting herself get morose, she reminded herself, hurriedly tugging on her bikini and going downstairs.

The garden was slumbrous with heat, bees droning drunkenly from flower to flower, heavy with pollen. Above her the sky was a hot blue arc, the grass beneath her feet was drying out in patches where the sun had burned it. She really ought to do some weeding, she thought, wryly glancing at the untidy beds, but she was too tired. Since Jon came back she hadn’t been sleeping very well, something she had refused to admit to herself until now.

She lay on her stomach, pillowing her head in a cushion, and then remembering the small white bank of flesh across her back, reached behind herself and unfastened the ties of her bikini. It was completely private in the garden and she was unlikely to be disturbed.

In her sleep she moved, turning on to her side, and curling her body inwards slightly into a position that was automatically defensive.

Someone was touching her, stroking her skin. Jon! A wave of pleasure shivered through her and she stretched beneath his touch like a cat asking to be stroked, opening her eyes and saying his name with sleepy delight.

Only it wasn’t Jon, it was Chris, the expression on his face frighteningly resentful as his fingers tightened round her unprotected breast, squeezing painfully...hurting her.

She was instantly and icily cold, shrinking instinctively from him, any thought she had entertained that she might be turning into a sex-starved female ready to welcome any man’s caresses dying instantly and completely. The only sensation Chris’s touch aroused was one of intense revulsion. Angrily she reached out to push him away, but he was too strong for her, burying his fingers in her hair, and tugging painfully on it as he pushed her back on to the ground.

Somewhere she could hear the sound of a car and struggled harder but all her struggles seemed to do was to inflame him further. She could feel the hot urgency of his breath against her skin, his voice thick and angry as he muttered, ‘You bitch...you deserve this!’ His mouth was on hers, his teeth savaging her tightly closed lips. She could hear footsteps coming towards them, shaking the sun-baked ground so that she could feel the movements against her ear. She tried to push Chris away thankful that they were about to be interrupted but was unprepared for the suddenness with which he released her and stood up. She turned her head, but the sunlight dazzled her for a moment.