‘You’re leaving?’ Hester gasps, hope surging through her. Robin smiles. He reaches out and takes Hester’s hand, which is quite boneless, and holds it against the skin of his chest. Hester’s heart jolts horribly. The world is so altered that nothing makes sense, and she is helpless to act; a mere passenger in a tiny craft, heading for a maelstrom. His skin is hot and dry. Hester can feel the hairs there, sharp against her fingertips.
‘Soon, soon. Will you be so very glad to see me go?’
‘Yes! Oh, yes!’ Hester says, and she begins to cry, helplessly, not trying to hide it. She does not turn her face away, or reach to wipe her eyes. Robin Durrant takes one look at her stricken face and bursts into delighted laughter.
‘Hester! Dear girl, why do you fret so? Stop that, you’re making yourself ugly. Why do you want me gone so badly? Have I been such an awful house guest?’ He cups her face with one hand and rubs his thumb along the line of her cheekbone.
‘Because … because … Bertie loves you so! Far more than he loves me … than he has ever loved me! With you here I may as well … I may as well not exist!’
‘No, no! You’re quite wrong, Hetty. He does love you. The problem lies elsewhere, with Albert. It’s not love he feels for me, but something else. Something I dare say he does not even know. Or won’t admit to himself.’
Gradually, Hester stops crying. She notices that her hand, though he has released it, still rests on his chest. ‘What is it then? What does he feel?’ she asks.
Robin takes another step closer, so that when he speaks, his lips brush the skin of her forehead, send shivers tumbling down her spine.
‘You’re such innocents! You and the vicar. Hard to believe such innocence can last so long into a marriage. Normally by now the innocence is gone, replaced by satisfaction, by knowledge and experience, and then by familiarity and distaste. Not that I can claim to have experienced marriage myself, but I have seen it enough times, in friends and family.’ He puts his arms around her loosely, but Hester is caged. The smell of him fills every breath she takes, his flesh so close that her skin flares with heat, as though they are already touching. ‘Haven’t you experienced anything like this with him? Not even on your wedding night? Has he never touched you, or kissed you?’ Robin whispers. Hester can’t find her voice to answer him. She shakes her head minutely – though in answer to his question or reaction to his embrace, neither of them can tell. ‘Such a dereliction of duty! And such a terrible waste. He denies you one of life’s great pleasures, Hester; when you were good enough to save yourself for him.’ Robin shakes his head and then presses his lips to her forehead. Hester stands transfixed, entirely trapped between the terrifying excitement and the wrongness of his touch, unable to move or think. She shuts her eyes; Robin kisses her eyelids. ‘Shall I show you what he should have done? Hester? You look so pretty with your hair undone like that, and tears on your cheeks. If you were my wife, I wouldn’t waste a single moment of time with you …’ I am not your wife! Hester cries silently, but still she does not move, for underneath her disgust at this betrayal of Albert, her fear and confusion, she does want to know these things he offers to show her. She is desperate to know. The room is dark, protective. It makes her invisible, makes her disappear.
When he kisses her mouth she sags against him, her legs tingling and weak. She cannot breathe. All strength seeps from her, and though she braces her arms against him, as if to fend him off, her mouth kisses him back, in spite of herself. When he breaks away he is smiling slightly. Had it been his normal smile, she might have acted differently. Had it been a smile of triumph or satisfaction, or a mocking smile, she might have found the resolve to run from him. But it is a soft and tender smile; one of admiration and desire, one that she has so longed to see, albeit on another man’s face. The storm lights his face again, gives every inch of him an unearthly glow, so bright that Hester flinches. He is beautiful, it is true. She does not open her eyes again, but lets herself be touched by him, be kissed and held by him. With every movement of his hands and mouth she feels her own rising desire – a longing like an ache, an unbearable ache right at the core of her. Robin opens her robe and pushes her back onto the window sill. The pain as he reaches for this ache makes her shudder and clench her teeth together, but it is wonderful too. A thousand fiery sparks whirl behind her eyes, shoot her thoughts to pieces, set light to every inch of her and leave her to burn. For that short while, she is not herself. She does not even exist.