One Night with His Virgin Mistress. Sara Craven

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СКАЧАТЬ I’m Natalie’s cousin, Josephine Lester, and I bet she hasn’t told you about me either.’

      ‘No.’ Gareth’s voice sounded odd, almost hoarse. ‘No, as a matter of fact, she didn’t.’ He was staring at her too, his face set, almost stunned.

      Tallie had the oddest impression that the pair of them were locked into some kind of exclusion zone—surrounded by a barrier like a force field which she would never be able to penetrate. It was such a strong impression that she almost took a step backwards.

      She heard herself say in a small wooden voice she barely recognised, ‘We were going to have tea.’

      Was aware that they’d both turned and looked at her in surprise, as if they’d forgotten her very existence. Then realised that was exactly what they’d done.

      Josie was smiling again. She said softly, ‘What a lovely idea.’

      Somehow, Tallie found she was pushing up her sleeve, glancing at her watch. ‘Only I didn’t realise how late it’s getting, and I’m due at work pretty soon.’ It was still only mid-afternoon, but she knew numbly that she could have said she was off bungee-jumping from the dome of St Paul’s without it registering with either of them. She shared a swift meaningless smile between them. ‘So, I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy your tea.’

      She went off, walking fast enough to convey an impression of haste—someone who needed to be somewhere else—but not so fast it would look as if she was running away.

      Especially when there was nowhere to run to.

      If the flat had seemed cramped before, it quickly became a living nightmare. It seemed that, no matter what time of the day or night she ventured out of her room, Gareth was there, and it was a minor consolation to know that Amanda was no more pleased with the situation than herself, or that she and Josie were constantly bickering about it.

      ‘No live-in boyfriends,’ she heard Amanda say stormily. ‘That was the rule we made, yet here he is.’

      ‘But he doesn’t live here,’ Josie returned. She gave a little throaty giggle. ‘He just—stays over sometimes.’

      ‘Seven nights a week is hardly “sometimes”,’ Amanda said coldly, going into her room and slamming the door.

      Tallie did her best to be unobtrusive, speaking politely if it was required, her face expressionless, determined not to reveal the bewildered heartache that tore into her each time she saw Gareth or heard his voice.

      Once, and only once, she came back from work and found him there alone. She halted in palpable dismay, then, muttering, ‘Excuse me,’ made for her room.

      But he followed. ‘Look, Natalie, can we lighten up a bit?’ he asked almost irritably. ‘It’s bad enough getting filthy looks from Amanda, without you creeping about as if I’d delivered some kind of death blow. And now Josie says you’re moving out altogether.’

      He added defensively, ‘For God’s sake, it’s not as if there was ever—anything going on between us. You were Guy’s little sister, that was all.’

      Not for me—never for me…

      She swung round to face him. ‘And you were just being kind— giving a child a day or two out. A few treats. Was that it? I—I didn’t realise.’

      ‘Well, it could never have been anything more than that.’

      ‘Why not?’ She was suddenly past caring. ‘Am I so totally repulsive?’

      ‘No, of course not.’ He spoke reluctantly, clearly sorry he’d ever begun the confrontation.

      ‘Then what? Because I’d really like to know.’

      He sighed. ‘Are you sure about that?’ He hesitated, clearly embarrassed, then plunged in. ‘Look, Natalie—it was perfectly obvious you’ve never been to the end of the street, let alone round the block. And I couldn’t deal with that. In fact, I didn’t even want to.’

      She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘I thought men liked that—knowing they were the first.’

      ‘Not me.’ He shook his head. ‘I still have the scars from my one and only time with a virgin. My God, I had to spend hours pleading, a good time was not had by all, and afterwards she expected me to be eternally grateful.’

      She stood, stricken, remembering low-voiced, rather giggly conversations at school between more worldly-wise friends, admitting that ‘it’ had hurt ‘like hell’ the first time—that, all in all, it had been messy, uncomfortable and incredibly disappointing. And then, the next time—miraculously—had begun to improve.

      But it wouldn’t have been like that with us—with me. I know it…

      The thought came, aching, into her mind, and was instantly dismissed. Because the truth was she didn’t know anything of the sort. And, anyway, the important thing now was to walk away, not crawl.

      She lifted her chin. ‘Well, whoever she was and, believe me, I don’t want to know, my sympathies are entirely with her.’ And she sauntered into her room, closing the door behind her.

      It was, she thought, the last time she’d ever spoken to him. And maybe much of the pain she still felt about him was not so concerned with his preference for Josie—no one, she told herself, could help falling in love, and what she’d witnessed might have been a genuine coup de foudre—but the cruelly dismissive way he’d spoken about her sexual ignorance, as if it was some kind of blight. That it was her own fault that she hadn’t been putting it about since she’d reached the age of consent.

      However, it was impossible to erase him from her mind altogether, because he was still the image of William, her fictional hero, and too deeply entrenched in her imagination to change. Except that William was kind, loyal and tender, and Mariana would have the happy ending she deserved.

      Unlike me, she thought, and sighed swiftly.

      But she couldn’t feel too dispirited for long—not in this lovely room. She loved the entire flat, especially the kitchen, and the wonderful en suite bathroom with its aquamarine tiles, huge power shower and enormous tub. But the office had to be her favourite of all—a big room filled with light and completely fitted out with pale oak furniture.

      It was completely uncluttered, with not a stray scrap of paper in sight. Well, not until she’d arrived, anyway, she thought, wrinkling her nose. It was slightly more lived-in now.

      Nor could she relate the Kit Benedict she’d encountered to all this orderly professionalism. Frankly, it had never occurred to her that working in the wine trade would require him to set up this kind of dedicated workplace at home.

      Unless, like herself, he moonlighted, she thought, which in turn would explain how he could afford the array of suits with designer labels, the expensive shirts and handmade shoes she’d found in the master bedroom’s fitted closets as she’d tried to make space for her own few things.

      But, whatever Kit did in this room, he kept strictly to himself because everything was securely locked up—the desk drawers, the cupboards, the filing cabinets and the bookcases, which seemed, she noted with surprise, to be devoted to mathematics СКАЧАТЬ