Chapter Six #5
Following his lead, I tiptoed to the front door and let myself in without a sound while he brought my bags.
The hall was beautifully warm, so I slipped off my coat and jacket and hung them on the banister.
Behind me, the door shut with a muffled click.
I turned round. Mark was barely a foot away, closer than I’d expected.
‘How about a coffee?’ I kept my voice low. ‘Or maybe a nightcap?’
He made no answer, just stared down at me.
I swallowed. ‘So . . . do you want to discuss the mentoring? Although it’s very late and I’m whacked.’
‘I just want to thank you for a wonderful evening,’ he said softly. ‘Like this.’
He paused. My lips framed a question, but no words came.
Then he reached out and cupped the back of my head, threading his fingers through my hair, spreading his hand wide so that the tip of his thumb brushed the corner of my mouth, over and over, building to a slow, hypnotic rhythm.
I looked into his eyes, willing him to stop; but his gaze never wavered.
At last, he rested his other hand on my waist, bent his head and kissed me.
I suppose I should have guessed what he was after . . . but I couldn’t, wouldn’t, believe it. The gentle circling of his thumb lulled first my mind into a false sense of security — and then my mouth into an unthinking response.
There was a time, long ago, when a kiss from Mark Knightley had been my life’s ambition.
But things happen for a reason. Back then, I could never have appreciated the erotic play of his tongue, the skilled caress of his hands, the unspoken invitation to give myself to him completely.
Because a man who kissed like that had no intention of spending the night alone.
And, back then, I would probably have mistaken lust for love.
Now, thank God, I could see it all for what it was. A kiss that promised much, but meant little. A kiss that discovered my mouth, but remembered Tamara’s.
And yet . . .
I was lost. Lost to all sense of time. Lost in the heat of his mouth, the scent of his skin, the feel of his body against mine. Each kiss lasted an eternity, but finished too soon. Each kiss left me satisfied, but kept me wanting more.
In a little while, I would end it. I would break away, laugh it off, dismiss it as an error of judgement on his part. An understandable error, perhaps, after a long day that he should have spent with her .
Upstairs, a floorboard creaked.
‘Emma, is that you?’ Dad, sounding anxious.
I would have ended it anyway. I know I would.
* * *
~~MARK~~
‘Emma, is that you?’
At her father’s voice, Emma twisted out of my grasp.
‘I didn’t realise I was a substitute for Tamara in everything !’ she hissed, before calling out, ‘Yes, Dad, it’s me. And Mark, who’s just leaving.’
I grabbed her arm. ‘Tamara? What’s she got to do with it?’
She glanced nervously at the stairs. ‘Shhh! He’s coming.’
‘For God’s sake, we need to talk.’ I racked my brains for a convincing excuse. ‘Tell him I’m mentoring you for the next hour or so.’
‘Don’t be so bloody ridiculous!’ She wrenched herself away just before Henry appeared at the top of the stairs.
He took his time coming down, stopping every so often to fasten his dressing gown more securely or turn up his collar against a non-existent draught.
She ignored me and watched his irritatingly slow progress.
I could see she was trembling, and I longed to hold her close . . .
‘Had a nice evening, the pair of you?’ Henry said, cautiously navigating the last stair as though it was a ten-foot drop.
I forced a smile. ‘Lovely, and it isn’t over yet. We’re just going to have that long overdue mentoring meeting—’
She cut in with, ‘Oh no, I’m exhausted — and I’m sure you are too. We wouldn’t be able to do it justice, which would be a complete waste of Highbury Foods’ money.’ She gave a hollow laugh and hurried to a safe distance halfway up the stairs, her dress shimmering around her.
Henry nodded. ‘Quite right. And I must say, Mark, you look stressed out. I’m not surprised, all that rich food and then driving at this ungodly hour.’
I looked past him, straight at her. ‘Just a few minutes, Emma, please—’
‘Not tonight,’ she said stonily, avoiding my gaze. ‘Come back in the morning, when you’ve got whatever it is out of your system.’
And then she was gone.
Henry’s eyes gleamed. ‘System? Have you got indigestion — or food poisoning perhaps? Let’s go through to the kitchen, I’m sure I can find something to—’
‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ I said sharply, and his face fell. I pulled myself together with an effort. ‘Sorry, Henry. You were right, I’m not feeling my best, but it’s nothing to worry about. I’ll be along in the morning to see Emma. Around nine, probably, if she’ll be up by then on a Saturday?’
‘Oh yes, Emma’s an early riser these days, even at weekends.’
My mind was in turmoil as I said goodnight and let myself out.
I drove the short distance home on autopilot, thinking only of her.
She certainly hadn’t pushed me away when I’d kissed her; no, she’d kissed me back, over and over again.
God knows, if Henry hadn’t interrupted us, we might easily have . . .
It was probably for the best. When we made love — and I knew now that it was a question of when, not if — I needed her to understand that I wasn’t in this for a cheap thrill. I wanted to be with her for ever.
But how on earth could she think she was just a substitute for Tamara? That would be the first thing I’d clear up when I saw her the next day. Except — why wait? I reached for my phone and tried her mobile.
It was switched off.
I let out a long uneven sigh. It looked as though I’d have to be patient for a little longer.
* * *
~~EMMA~~
Up in bed I tossed and turned, wondering how to deal with Mark.
I didn’t dwell on why he’d kissed me. I knew it was because he missed Tamara, whatever he said about moving on. And I didn’t dwell on why I’d kissed him back. He was a fantastic kisser, might as well enjoy it.
But what would happen now? Would we ever return to some sort of normality? We had to — I couldn’t imagine him not being part of my life.
And then I started thinking . . . If Dad hadn’t interrupted us, would we have got carried away and, well, slept together? Not at Hartfield, of course; Mark would have taken me to Donwell Abbey, where we’d be completely alone all night long . . .
A disturbing thought, and one that I returned to time and again. I even composed the little note I would have left for Dad:
Gone to Donwell with Mark — temporarily taking over Tamara’s bedroom duties.
New packet of porridge is behind fennel tea in pantry.
Love, Emma
P.S. Don’t worry, have got Health & Safety covered. We’re calling at Open All Hours — which means by the time you read this the whole of Highbury will know we’ve spent the night together.
All pointless bloody speculation. It hadn’t happened, and I’d make sure it was never likely to.