Time for Trust Read online

  For the first time she felt ill at ease and nervous in his presence. In the cold, clear light of the sharply clear October morning he looked so much more formidable than she remembered, so much more male…She winced inwardly, wondering how much of a fool she must have made of herself last night. Had he really withdrawn from making love to her because he genuinely felt it was too soon, or had that simply been a polite way of saying that he didn’t really want her?

  As she tried to follow her normal morning routine, she deliberately avoided looking at him, jumping when he reached out and removed the teapot from her grasp as he said firmly, ‘I meant every word I said last night, but if you’re having any regrets…if you’re beginning to wonder if this…this thing that’s happening between us isn’t something you want to pursue, you don’t have to be afraid of saying so.’

  He watched her gravely as her face betrayed her emotions.

  ‘You must think I’m behaving like an idiot,’ she told him helplessly. ‘Heavens, I’m an adult, not a child!’

  ‘Even adults have been known to regret in the cold light of morning things that happen in the blurring, protective darkness of night,’ Daniel told her. For the first time there was a trace of cynicism in his voice.

  ‘I don’t regret telling you about…about the past,’ Jessica told him firmly, and then added bravely, ‘and I’m not having second thoughts about…about us.’ She looked at him and said with helpless honesty, ‘I’m just not used to this kind of intimacy. I’ve never felt like this before.’

  ‘Neither have I,’ Daniel told her almost fiercely. ‘There’s nothing in my past…No one,’ he emphasised, ‘with whom I’ve experienced a tenth of what I’m feeling now.’ He stopped and pushed his fingers into his hair in a gesture of baffled self-irritation. ‘I don’t know how to handle this, either,’ he told her in a softer, muffled voice. ‘One half of me says, “Don’t push her…Don’t rush.” The other—the old male hunting instinct, I suppose—says, “Make sure of her now, before someone else snatches her away from you.’

  His admission startled her, softening her defences. She hadn’t given any thought to his vulnerabilities and fears; she had automatically assumed that a man so obviously very much in charge of his life and himself would never experience the kind of doubts to which she was prey.

  ‘Look,’ he said gently, coming towards her and taking hold of her hands, ‘I know you’re trying to tell me that you don’t want to be rushed into an intimate relationship because you haven’t had that kind of relationship before, and, like anything unknown, at times it appears dangerous and a little frightening. I can’t claim that you’ll be the first woman I’ve made love with, but I can tell you you’ll be the first woman I’ve loved, and so intensely that I feel I hardly dare let you out of my sight in case you disappear.’

  Jessica sat down and stared at him. His open declaration of love stunned her.

  ‘But it’s too soon,’ she whispered protestingly. ‘We haven’t even known one another twenty-four hours yet.’

  ‘I knew the moment I saw you,’ Daniel told her harshly. ‘You looked at me and it was as though suddenly the world had shifted into brilliant focus…as though a missing piece of my life had suddenly slotted into place…I can’t explain it or rationalise it, Jessica,’ he told her grimly. ‘And I know quite well if someone was standing here telling me what I’m saying to you, I’d probably not believe him. There is no rational explanation for what I’m feeling. And you feel it, too. You might not want to admit it, but we both know it’s true.’

  ‘It might just be because of the raid,’ Jessica argued tensely. ‘Things like that unleash all kinds of strong emotions—’

  ‘I saw you before the raid,’ Daniel reminded her, his voice low and rough so that, somehow, the sound of it almost seemed to touch her skin.

  She hesitated for a moment, like a diver confronted with a particularly high board, and then, taking hold of her courage, she said huskily, ‘I’m frightened, Daniel…Frightened of trusting myself to what I’m feeling…frightened of giving myself to—’

  ‘To me?’ he asked her savagely, shocking her with the violence of his voice and expression. ‘Don’t you think I feel the same way? Don’t you think anyone committing themselves to another human being knows that same fear? I can’t tell you what to do, Jessica. I’m already in too deep to draw back, or to give you any detached advice. What I think you must ask yourself is what you fear the most…Is it the fact that sharing your life with me will breach your protective solitude, or is it because you fear that the relationship won’t last?’

  ‘Both,’ Jessica admitted painfully. ‘Especially our relationship not lasting.’

  ‘So you’re not really sure about your own feelings…about their ability to endure?’

  His question trapped her. Of course she was sure about what she felt, and had been from the moment she had realised that the rapport she felt for him wasn’t based on gratitude for his help and kindness, but came from what she felt for Daniel himself.

  ‘Or is it the strength of my feelings you doubt?’ he asked her softly, watching her as betraying colour stained her pale face. ‘There’s nothing I can do or say that will convince you,’ he told her quietly. ‘Only time can do that. I want it all, Jess. You, marriage…a family…’

  He saw her tension and his mouth twisted in an ironic smile.

  ‘All right, I know you’re not ready for that kind of commitment yet.’

  ‘I need time,’ she told him helplessly. ‘You’re so sure…so…I want to trust how we feel, but it’s all so new to me. We need time to get to know one another properly.’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘starting with today. How about coming with me when I go to see the builders you and Mrs G recommended? I need to have someone who’s going to treat the restoration of the house with a bit more care and consideration than the cowboy who brought down one of the bedroom ceilings.’

  ‘Is the house listed?’ Jessica asked him.

  ‘No, but I want to make sure the work is done sympathetically and in keeping with the period of the house. I had planned to go over to Bath this afternoon. I’ve got an appointment at an architectural salvage place there. They’re going to look out for some of the stuff I need. Come with me, Jess. Spend the day with me. I promise I shan’t pressure you.You can’t work, and we both know damned well that if I leave you here, before I’m clear of the village you’ll be trying to work.’

  Already he seemed to know her so well, while she…Sometimes she thought she knew him, and then suddenly she would be confronted by another, unfamiliar aspect to his personality that would check her.

  Spend the day with him…Why not? After all, as he had said, she couldn’t work. If she stayed in the cottage on her own she would only brood, and while they were in Bath she could possibly call at the shop and discuss any new commissions they might have for her.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ she told him quickly before she could change her mind. ‘I could show you where the builder has his office—it’s not far from Bath.’

  Instantly his whole face softened.

  ‘Good girl,’ he told her softly, and then leaned towards her as though he was going to kiss her.

  A fierce thrill of anticipation ran through her body, tensing her muscles.

  But then he hesitated and drew back, saying ruefully, ‘No, perhaps not…I promised I wouldn’t rush you, didn’t I?’

  Cross with herself for her own sharp feeling of disappointment, she announced that there were things she had to do before she could go out—such as feeding Cluny and getting changed into something warm enough for the gusty autumn day with its sudden sharp spirals of wind and its cold, almost frosty air—and then waited tensely for Daniel to object, as she had so often heard the husbands and lovers of friends object when they were kept waiting. Instead he said agreeably that that presented no problems since he had a couple of phone calls to make, if she would allow him the use of her phone, and additionally that it would be his chore t
o clear away their breakfast things since her now painfully stiff arm would necessarily mean that it would take her longer to get changed.

  Surreptitiously watching him as he deftly cleared the table and started to wash up, Jessica reflected that she had seldom seen a man so at home and at ease with domestic chores. Turning round and seeing her watching him, Daniel grinned, and explained, ‘Early training. Since I wasn’t the girl she so desperately wanted, Ma had to make do with my help when the twins came along. I drew the line at pushing the pram,’ he added, still smiling.

  ‘You mother wanted a girl?’ Jessica asked him curiously, puzzled. ‘But, surely…?’

  ‘What—all parents want sons? Not so,’ Daniel told her, shaking his head.

  ‘You must have found that very hard,’ Jessica said slowly, remembering her own pain on discovering how much her parents had wanted a son.

  Daniel frowned.

  ‘I said that my mother wanted a girl, not that she didn’t love me, Jess. There is a difference, you know.’

  She opened her mouth to deny his statement, and then closed it again, knowing that it was true that, although she hadn’t been the son her parents had hoped for, they did undoubtedly love her.

  Once upstairs, like any woman in love, the moment she opened her wardrobe doors she discovered she didn’t have a thing to wear, or, more truthfully, she didn’t have anything to wear that she considered worthy of inciting Daniel’s admiration.

  Why was it that women were so vulnerable where their physical appearance was concerned? she wondered idly, frowning over the perfectly adequate contents of her wardrobe. Why was it that their deepest and most instinctive feelings of self-worth sprang from their public image and the way that people reacted to it?

  For Daniel, she wanted to turn heads as they walked down the street…For Daniel, she wanted others to admire and maybe even envy his choice of woman a little, and yet the contents of her wardrobe were geared for her working life, and living here in the country. Warm, practical clothes designed to withstand the elements, good-quality clothes, but clothes that were scarcely worthy of the description “glamorous”.

  Just for one fleeting and revealing moment she thought regretfully of the shopping trip her mother had insisted on taking her on the last time they had met. She had refused the enticement of the expensive designer-label clothes her mother had drawn to her attention, pointing out firmly that on her income she could scarcely afford such luxuries, and that, anyway, she had no need of them.

  Useless now to regret the soft pastel cashmeres, the fine, delicate silks, the thin, narrow skirts…

  Instead she removed from its hanger a pleated woollen skirt in dark blue and green tartan enlivened by bright red and yellow lines.

  The skirt had been an impulse buy the previous winter, from an exclusive shop in Bath. With it went a soft yellow sweater, and the sleeveless gilet which was the same dark blue as the skirt, lined with the yellow of her sweater.

  The outfit was completed by a scarf, gloves and toning tights.

  As she looked critically at her reflection, she wondered if she had the right personality to wear such striking colours. There was no doubt that the outfit was vibrantly colourful, and she hesitated for a moment, torn between leaving it on or changing into something plainer.

  The painful ache in her arm decided her. The outfit must stay.

  Almost shyly, she went back downstairs. The kitchen was immaculate, and Daniel was waiting for her, reading one of her books on tapestries.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ he apologised, smiling at her, ‘but this caught my eye. There’s a panelled room at the Court, or at least there will be if I can find enough panelling to repair the damaged sections. I had thought of using it as my study—a tapestry would look very effective against the panelling.’

  ‘Very,’ Jessica agreed and then warned, ‘Providing that the panelling is of the earlier type.’

  ‘It’s early eighteenth century, or so I’m told. I’m afraid I’m not an expert on such things, which is another reason why I want to get hold of a reliable builder.’He grimaced in self-disgust. ‘I thought I was too old to be taken in by a cowboy.’

  ‘It happens all the time,’ Jessica sympathised. ‘When I first bought this place, I was lucky. The estate agent was a local man and he recommended this firm to me. I think you’ll like him. He’s got his own idiosyncrasies,’ she warned, ‘and works to his own time scale. He can seem a bit taciturn at first, but he does do a good job.’

  Daniel hadn’t said a word about her outfit, but the way he looked at her kindled that same feeling in the pit of her stomach which she had experienced the night before.

  ‘I think we’d better make a move,’ he said huskily, verbally confirming his reaction to her. ‘Otherwise I might just be tempted to forget that we’ve agreed to take things slowly.’

  Once inside the Daimler, she realised that she wasn’t going to need the gilet while they were travelling. Daniel had already set the car in motion, and she struggled to remove it, hampered by the constriction of her seat-belt and the painful stiffness of her arm.

  ‘Hang on. I’ll pull up and help you,’ Daniel told her, bringing the car to a halt and releasing his own seat-belt to reach across and snap hers free. ‘Turn sideways, and then you should be able to slide it off,’ he instructed.

  Sitting with her back to him while he reached forward to gently manoeuvre the top free of her arms, she could feel the warm heat of his breath stirring her hair, raising goose-bumps on the nape of her neck.

  ‘There…that should do it.’

  Had she imagined that light, delicate kiss brushing her throat as he lifted her hair free of her collar? She shivered a little, wishing she had the experience and nature to turn round and say, ‘I’ve changed my mind. Take me home and make love to me.’

  But even if she had, it was hardly the sensible thing to do—to commit herself so rashly and so completely.

  But wasn’t she already committed? Wasn’t she already involved? Wasn’t she even now going to suffer as she had never suffered before in her life, if he left her? And that was what frightened her—that he might grow bored, or change his mind, or simply discover that he had after all mistaken his feelings, and that, while he walked away from her with no regrets, she would spend the rest of her life mourning his loss.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THEY were going first to see Daniel’s house, and, although she had often driven past it on her way to the main road which led to Bath and the motorway, Jessica felt a tiny thrill of excitement at the thought of going inside.

  Her love affair with old buildings had first begun long before she had reached her teens, when an aunt of her mother’s had invited her to spend a week’s holiday with her in Cheshire and had taken her round some of the country’s wonderful mediaeval and Elizabethan houses.

  It wasn’t the grand palaces which appealed to her so much as the smaller, more homely buildings, lived in by what in those days had been minor branches of the nobility, and the new, wealthy merchant classes who so vigorously intermarried with them.

  After all, it was those merchants who had been responsible for so many of the beautiful things which had enhanced those homes: carpets, rugs, silks and velvets brought out of the East.

  Daniel’s house had been built when the Carolean period was at its apogee.

  Inigo Jones and Christopher Wren might have been heralding in the dawn of the fashion for Palladian architecture in fashionable London, but judging from its exterior Jessica suspected, and hoped, that Daniel’s house might have retained at least some of its original panelling.

  In an effort to divert her senses from their intense responsiveness to him, she asked him about this as they headed for the house.

  ‘The panelling in one of the bedrooms is virtually intact, although the original plasterwork ceiling is badly damaged, and then downstairs there’s the hallway, a passage, and what at one time was the library, although most of the library shelves have been ripped out
by a previous owner.

  ‘At some stage the sitting-room and drawing-room were ‘modernised’, unfortunately. My apologies for the state of the drive,’ he added, frowning as he turned off the main road and in through two stone gateposts, now without gates, and drove along an unkempt, rutted drive.

  The trees which must once have lined the driveway no longer existed, and where once presumably there had been a smooth sweep of lawn perhaps studded by fine specimen trees, there was now an area of rough, untidy grass, so that the house was visible not just from the drive, but from the road as well.

  ‘How much land does the house have?’ Jessica asked Daniel.

  ‘About two acres, and this piece you can see at the front is probably the only bit that resembles anything approaching a garden,’ he told her ruefully.

  ‘The whole thing has to be cleared and redesigned, but at this stage I’m trying to concentrate on getting the house properly habitable.’

  ‘If it’s in such poor condition, wouldn’t it have been wiser for you to have stayed in London until the work’s done?’ Jessica asked him, repeating less aggressively a question she had already asked.

  ‘Wiser in some ways, perhaps, but I want to be on hand to make sure work is progressing as it should. I’ve got quite a lot of leave due to me which I intend to use to put all the work in hand, and I think I can oversee things much more easily from here than from the city.’

  He saw the sadness shadowing Jessica’s eyes as she studied the frontage of the house and asked with a frown, ‘What’s wrong?’

  His sensitivity to her moods disconcerted her; she had deliberately kept her fellow human beings at bay for so long that she wasn’t used to people picking up on her feelings.

  ‘It’s the house,’ she told him. ‘Poor thing…It looks so neglected and unhappy.’ She flushed defensively when she saw that he was smiling a little. ‘Houses do have feelings,’ she told him crossly, guessing that he must think her a sentimental idiot.

  ‘Well, then, let’s go inside this one and you can reassure it and yourself as to my intentions,’ Daniel suggested, stopping the car and switching off the engine.