head: “Yes, of course,” she told him resolutely.
In one swift, decisive movement John stood up, scooped her from her chair and held her so close that she could feel the pounding of his heart. His lips sought and captured hers with ruthless, passionate fervour.
“You little idiot, does that suggest that I was pretending?” he demanded savagely. “Does it? Or this—?”
Again his mouth claimed hers, and stirred to the very depths of her being, Rosamund knew that her dreams had come true. John loved her! She need not be afraid to show her own love—
Time stood still for them—
“And now,” John said at last in a voice shaken with feeling, “will you kindly tell me why you did your best to scare the daylights out of me? Do you know you almost convinced me that—you didn’t care?”
“Did I?” Looking up into his adoring eyes, her own glinted with mischief. “Well, it didn’t seem to—to—”
“To cramp my style?” John suggested wryly. “Don’t you understand, Rosamund, I was desperate! You seemed to be slipped away from me and I—” he left the sentence unfinished, but his lips sought hers again, not in passion now but as if he was seeking reassurance and comfort.
And in that brief moment of time it seemed to Rosamund that she was given a complete and awe-inspiring understanding of what love between a man and a woman can and should be. It was not simply a matter of romance, wonderful though that was. It was something much deeper and more enduring than that. It was the sharing of life in every respect, the desire to stand between the loved one and pain or danger. It was the knowledge that two imperfect human beings can make mistakes and yet forgive and start afresh. And perhaps, most important of all, it meant that there are times when even the strongest natures are vulnerable and need to know that they do not stand alone.
With utter conviction that this was one of those times, she put a hand on either side of John’s face.
“John, my own dear, I love you so much,” she said with passionate tenderness. “Now—and always. Believe that, for it’s the truth.”
And gently she laid her soft lips against his.
When Miss Alice returned she was, as she had anticipated, hot, tired and frankly, in none too good a temper. None the less, absorbed though she was in her own discomforts, she was quick to guess what had happened. True, John and Rosamund were simply sitting side by side on the deck, but before they had noticed her, she had realised how deeply absorbed they were in their conversation and as she got nearer and they jumped to their feet to greet her, she saw the unmistakable, glowing happiness in their faces.
“It’s happened,” she told herself helplessly. “They’ve told one another—this really is the last straw! What on earth do I do now? Oh, Rob, how I wish you were here!”
“Dear Miss Alice, you do look tired,” Rosamund said sympathetically. “Do sit down while I get you some tea. Everything’s ready so it won’t take a minute !”
“Thank you, I’ll get it for myself,” Miss Alice said gruffly, and turned her back on them, ashamed at her apparent ungraciousness, but feeling that she must have a few minutes to herself to think over this new situation.
When she had gone, John and Rosamund looked at one another in consternation.
“I’ve never seen her like this before,” Rosamund whispered, anxious not to be overheard. “What can be the matter?”
“She’s pretty shrewd. I imagine she guessed about us,” John frowned as he spoke.
“But how can she have done?” Rosamund protested. “I mean, we were only talking—”
John’s expression softened as he put a finger under her chin and tipped her face up.
“Yes, my love, just talking. But possibly you don’t realise that your eyes are like stars, and there’s a sort of radiance—”
For a moment they forgot Miss Alice and then John said uneasily:
“All the same, supposing she did guess, why
In one swift, decisive movement John stood up, scooped her from her chair and held her so close that she could feel the pounding of his heart. His lips sought and captured hers with ruthless, passionate fervour.
“You little idiot, does that suggest that I was pretending?” he demanded savagely. “Does it? Or this—?”
Again his mouth claimed hers, and stirred to the very depths of her being, Rosamund knew that her dreams had come true. John loved her! She need not be afraid to show her own love—
Time stood still for them—
“And now,” John said at last in a voice shaken with feeling, “will you kindly tell me why you did your best to scare the daylights out of me? Do you know you almost convinced me that—you didn’t care?”
“Did I?” Looking up into his adoring eyes, her own glinted with mischief. “Well, it didn’t seem to—to—”
“To cramp my style?” John suggested wryly. “Don’t you understand, Rosamund, I was desperate! You seemed to be slipped away from me and I—” he left the sentence unfinished, but his lips sought hers again, not in passion now but as if he was seeking reassurance and comfort.
And in that brief moment of time it seemed to Rosamund that she was given a complete and awe-inspiring understanding of what love between a man and a woman can and should be. It was not simply a matter of romance, wonderful though that was. It was something much deeper and more enduring than that. It was the sharing of life in every respect, the desire to stand between the loved one and pain or danger. It was the knowledge that two imperfect human beings can make mistakes and yet forgive and start afresh. And perhaps, most important of all, it meant that there are times when even the strongest natures are vulnerable and need to know that they do not stand alone.
With utter conviction that this was one of those times, she put a hand on either side of John’s face.
“John, my own dear, I love you so much,” she said with passionate tenderness. “Now—and always. Believe that, for it’s the truth.”
And gently she laid her soft lips against his.
When Miss Alice returned she was, as she had anticipated, hot, tired and frankly, in none too good a temper. None the less, absorbed though she was in her own discomforts, she was quick to guess what had happened. True, John and Rosamund were simply sitting side by side on the deck, but before they had noticed her, she had realised how deeply absorbed they were in their conversation and as she got nearer and they jumped to their feet to greet her, she saw the unmistakable, glowing happiness in their faces.
“It’s happened,” she told herself helplessly. “They’ve told one another—this really is the last straw! What on earth do I do now? Oh, Rob, how I wish you were here!”
“Dear Miss Alice, you do look tired,” Rosamund said sympathetically. “Do sit down while I get you some tea. Everything’s ready so it won’t take a minute !”
“Thank you, I’ll get it for myself,” Miss Alice said gruffly, and turned her back on them, ashamed at her apparent ungraciousness, but feeling that she must have a few minutes to herself to think over this new situation.
When she had gone, John and Rosamund looked at one another in consternation.
“I’ve never seen her like this before,” Rosamund whispered, anxious not to be overheard. “What can be the matter?”
“She’s pretty shrewd. I imagine she guessed about us,” John frowned as he spoke.
“But how can she have done?” Rosamund protested. “I mean, we were only talking—”
John’s expression softened as he put a finger under her chin and tipped her face up.
“Yes, my love, just talking. But possibly you don’t realise that your eyes are like stars, and there’s a sort of radiance—”
For a moment they forgot Miss Alice and then John said uneasily:
“All the same, supposing she did guess, why