Checkmate
by
Gladys Hobson
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2010 by G.B.Hobson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, situations and incidents are the product of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Published in Australia
Digitally by
Dare Empire eMedia Productions
ISBN: 978-0-9808709-4-7
Cover Art © 2010 Dare Empire eMedia Productions
My thanks to friends, relatives and critics.
I am forever in their debt.
A list of the significant characters and their relationships
can be found at the back of the book.
Prologue
June felt Rob’s hand moving up her thigh.
‘No more?’ he asked her mockingly.
She could not stop her body trembling in anticipation of what she knew was about to happen. Oh, why be here alone with a man who bewitched her, knowing the impossibility of resisting his advances?
Her mind swiftly returned to early that morning: standing with Adam and Eva as they waved their daddy off to work, and then turning back inside the house that felt so empty without Charlie. It must have been less than two hours later that he rang to say he would be late home.
She hadn’t been alone with Rob since that dreadful night she had broken off her engagement to him. The night when — no, don’t think about it, never think about it.
And now Rob was again working his magic, with her utterly powerless to stop him. She wanted him — no, needed him. It was going on and on, her body on fire with erotic sensations. Oh… the agony of trying to resist such unspeakable ecstasy.
Then don’t resist. Give in, give in. Yes, yes, oh yes …
Her mind became lost in a whirl of hedonistic delight….
PART ONE
Chapter One
Summer 1974
Captain Charles Rogers RN retired, Consultant and Project Manager of an exciting submersible enterprise, sat at his desk with a pile of correspondence in front of him waiting to be read. But with his wife uppermost in his thoughts, how could he possibly concentrate? In his mind he saw June’s smiling face as she waved him off to work that morning, young Eva in her arms and little Adam by her side. She had turned herself into the perfect wife and mother, desiring only to be there for him and the children, their own and those of her former marriage to his dead brother. Living in a beautiful home in an idyllic Lakeland setting, complete with the family he’d always wanted and a challenging job he enjoyed, life for him could not be richer. But what of June’s happiness?
June was not fully alive. How could she be? Starved of the stimulation provided by an exciting career within the world of fashion, her creative spontaneity and her lively zest for life had dulled. Her genius for originality of design had forsaken her, and only that morning she had spoken of giving up both her freelance designing and her painting.
‘And do what?’ he’d asked her. ‘That is, apart from what you already do for me and the children?’
‘Open that boutique I once planned.’
But he knew it would never happen. Without Robert Watson being an irritant to produce the pearl, she quickly lost interest in every project requiring confidence and determination.
He mulled over in his mind how June had broken her engagement to Watson — short though it may have been — to marry him and bear his children. She had also forfeited an extraordinary career as a top designer and executive in Watson’s clothing interests. By her willing acceptance never to be alone with Robert and see him only on appointed days, June was cut off from someone who, through his powerful magnetism, inspired her creativity and developed her gifts in amazing ways. The problem was, Watson’s potent sexual charisma had the power to draw June like a moth to a flame!
They were expecting a visit from Robert Watson that afternoon. He was convinced she was worried that he would reject her designs; it was her constant fear. Attempts to further her freelance designing elsewhere had failed miserably. It seemed that nothing she attempted these days came up to scratch. Anxiety affected her work and now growing depression affected the whole of her life. Feeling a failure, she had no desire to mix socially. She was sleeping badly too. Her doctor had advised a course of Valium. Knowing the unwelcome effects from taking ‘mother’s little helper’ soon after the birth of her third child, she would not even consider going down that road again.
‘Can pills inspire me? No, Charlie, I might as well be half alive as half dead.’
He came to the conclusion that she was paying too high a price for his own happiness. Life with Robert Watson as part of their relationship might have had its fraught moments, but, at least, June had been vibrantly alive.
It was time for his wife to regain her joie de vivre. There was only one thing he could do: allow her and Watson a little private space and let nature take over, wherever it might lead. He picked up the phone and rang his home number.
‘Hello? June Rogers speaking.’
‘Hi, it’s me. I won’t be home until after six. There’s work I have to get finished.’
‘After six?’
‘Yes, after six. It won’t be a problem. will it?’
There was a moment’s silence.
‘Charlie, have you forgotten Rob’s coming?’
‘No, I haven’t forgotten,’ he assured her casually. ‘You don’t need me there, do you?’
He could almost hear her struggling with her emotions.
‘I guess not,’ she eventually agreed.
‘That’s okay then.’
‘Are you sure, Charlie?’
‘I’m sure, June. Yes, I’m quite sure. Start to live again. That’s what we both want, isn’t it?’ He waited a moment but she didn’t answer. ‘If he asks you to work with him as before, I’ll support you every bit of the way. Things are much different now. We can work it out with the children, and with us.’
‘But, Charlie—’
‘Don’t worry, darling, you’ll be all right with Watson. The sun is shining, so why not have your meeting on the terrace?’
‘I suppose we could.’
‘I have to go now. I’ll see you this evening.’
He put down the phone and sighed: although deeply in love with his wife, he wasn’t blind to her faults. He tried to fight off his strong foreboding, but images of Watson and June erotically entwined kept popping into his mind. He poured himself a coffee from the machine, sat down and picked up a report to read. His vision was too blurred to see the words. He wiped the wetness from his eyes with the back of his hand and swallowed hard. Disgusted with himself, he thumped his desk in agony of spirit.
A knock at his door, followed by the entry of an assistant who wanted to discuss the latest mini-submarine development quickly cleared his mind, bringing him back to the job in hand.
Chapter Two
Rob found her, as June’s domestic said he would, under the overhanging trees of the natural woodland that grew by the side of the lake. He had followed a long path, threading his way over the extensive lawn and through the sweet-scented flower gardens and colourful shrubbery, until he arrived at the deciduous trees. The beech, oak, ash and chestnut were resplendent in their summer glory. The grassy slope by the water’s edge appeared a very private place, some distance from the house. Sitting silently on a rug with a pencil in her hand and a sketchpad on her knee, her gaze appeared unfocussed and her mind far away.
June appeared to be in another world, and he wondered if he might be there with her. How he bitterly regretted the coarse sex he tried to force on her… was it four or five years ago? How time flies. If only he’d accepted it was Charlie’s child she was bearing things would have worked out differently. She might still be part of his business ventures and, as everyone knows, one thing always leads to another….
Even so, although Charles denied him lone access to June, whether business or personal, he had at least accepted her continuing with designing a few sketches each season. But meeting occasionally to discuss her ideas wasn’t enough: her genius for design had severely declined. Moreover, he wanted her body as well as her creative flair. For, in spite of all the sexy women on offer, she was the only one he lusted after — forbidden goods? Maybe, after all he was used to getting his own way. He was pretty sure that deep down, she wanted him too.
And here she sat, all by herself even though both she and Charles were expecting him to call that afternoon. In spite of having put on a little weight she appeared incredibly provocative. The shape of her firm large nipples stood out from under her white gypsy blouse — quite an intoxicating sight. What’s more, with bare feet and legs showing beneath a long flowing gypsy skirt, did this suggest no underwear on this hot afternoon? He smiled: hot indeed. He might make a lot of money from producing high quality lingerie but, as a mere male, women desiring bodily freedom had his full approbation.
‘Hello, June,’ he said softly; to speak louder would have been a violation of the peaceful scene.
‘Rob! I didn’t see you.’ Clearly startled, she looked at her watch. ‘Golly, is it that late? I forgot the time. But surely you must be early? Yes, at least half an hour.’ Flustered, she began gathering her things together. ‘This is dreadful. I came here to get my thoughts sorted out. I haven’t even changed, for goodness sake.’
‘You look all right to me.’
‘Nonsense! I look quite wild.’ She stood up. ‘I really must get back to the house and tidy myself up. These clothes are most unsuitable for a business meeting.’
‘Dressed like a nymph of the woods? What could be more appropriate for an arboreal setting on a sunny day? But I guess we must have our meeting inside… Charles not home yet?’
‘He’s at work. Apparently something came up which needed his attention.’ She began picking up her things. ‘We can have our meeting on the terrace. It’s much too nice to be inside on a day like this.’
‘If you’re sure it’s okay to be alone, that’s great.’ He threw down his briefcase and the jacket he’d been carrying. Taking the blanket from her he spread it out on the grass. ‘In that case, we might as well stay here. It’s quite inspirational.’ He loosened his tie and sat on the rug, offering a place by his side.
He studied her carefully as she hesitated before gracefully lowering herself to sit sideways to him. He could sense her nervousness. Fear about her work? Or excitement of what might happen between them? After all, why still be outside rather than in the house getting ready for his arrival? Didn’t realise the time? No, he couldn’t buy that. She wanted him all right — here in an ideal setting, dressed for what she hoped would take place. Intriguing! His libido now rising in tune with his speculations, he forced himself to think of the business he’d come to discuss.
He opened his briefcase and took out various papers and fabric samples.
‘I noticed the two little ones with your sister in the conservatory. Where are the others?’ he asked, wanting to know how long they had before being interrupted.
‘Rosie is teaching, of course. David and Peter are sailing; making the most of the good weather before going back to Cambridge. Jimmy is at school.’
She had her head down, looking intently at the swatches of fabric. Did she know what was on his mind? Of course she did.
‘I was hoping to see James today.’ Why would she persist in calling their son Jimmy?
‘That’s all right, he’s expecting you.’
‘Good.’
He watched her unenthusiastic handling of a piece of finely striped, woollen fabric, feeling its texture while looking at a sketch.
‘He’ll be home just after four. Rosie’s picking him up. He can join us for a cup of tea in the conservatory.’ She glanced at him almost shyly. ‘That is, if you can stay that long.’
‘Of course. But what about Charles?’
‘Charlie won’t mind. He won’t be home until this evening.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘Of course, he knows you’re here today.’
‘Really?’
She smiled nervously. ‘Yes… I guess he’s prepared to trust you after all this time.’
‘But can I trust myself?’
It amused him to see her aroused by his presence: voice, eyes and body language betraying her true feelings. As he gazed intently at her legs and upwards to her breasts, her nipples were actually hardening into stiff peaks beneath the fine fabric of her blouse. She couldn’t help herself. Obviously, she wanted him — needed him — badly. Charles not man enough to satisfy her? Or was she merely bored by mundane living and needed a bit of excitement in her life? Probably both.
Meeting with her during the past few years had been strictly business, and he’d always been the perfect gentleman. He couldn’t be otherwise with Charles always close by. She might like to think herself capable of controlling his captivating ways, but he knew better. Of course, part of her — the rational mind — wanted him to get on with business matters and go. But the darker side of her nature demanded the sexual stimulation of his presence. He had seen and felt it so many times before. Overpowering her inhibitions was the thrill of the chase.
‘I think I’m quite safe,’ she said after a few moments, her voice belying her attempt to be calmly controlled. She looked up into his eyes and smiled. ‘Haven’t I proved I can protect myself?’
The recollection of her foot reaching his groin became vividly alive. Bending over, he brought his hands to his crotch and groaned as though in agony. ‘The memory of it lingers.’
He burst out laughing, and was pleased to see her laughing with him. Things were going well.
‘I deserved everything I got,’ he told her seriously. ‘I’ve been wanting to say for ages how sorry I am for the way I behaved.’
That he should apologise for something he’d done deliberately, was a very unusual event and he knew it would throw her off balance. For a brief moment he could see her wondering what was behind it. But then she lowered her eyes and her expression became serious.
‘Actually, Rob, I too wanted to apologise;’ she said softly. ‘I should never have accepted your ring when I was in love with Charles.’
It was Charlie Boy’s ring she should have rejected as far as Robert was concerned. Surely she must be regretting it now, stuck in the middle of nowhere and beyond the world of fashion. Love and babies had their place, but domesticity in this setting could only drag her down. She lacked verve, originality and vision. Her casual appearance was but a symptom of her decay. What’s more — she knew it.
‘But I’m not sorry for defending myself,’ she continued, sounding a little embarrassed. ‘After all, I was pregnant at the time. But I do feel bad that you slipped and had that awful accident. I didn’t hate you. I only wanted to stop you, not put you in hospital for weeks.’
Rob smiled: June was claiming responsibility for the whole disastrous episode. He picked up her sketches and quickly looked through them. ‘Pretty good,’ he told her but thinking he’d seen better in newspaper adverts aimed at Plain-Jane Dowdy. ‘I’ve brought some swatches of our latest medium-weight fabrics with me,’ he added, getting them out of his case. ‘I think some of your outfits have potential for the country cottons range. Of course, they will need a little modifying.’
If he wanted her back working alongside him again, now was the time to whet her appetite. While she was examining the fabric samples, he brought her up to date with his company’s market position, leading on to his plans for expansion. As expected, his labels continued to sell well throughout the United Kingdom, and outlets for his leisure and sports clothing, with his new Stag label, were spreading to all major cities and tourist towns within the UK. Moreover, his clothing empire was burgeoning abroad where the garments were manufactured and sold under license. Now he intended concentrating his design and marketing headquarters in the Lakes area to add character to a variety of Stag labels. ‘It will certainly impress our clients,’ he told her proudly.
‘But won’t they object to all the travelling?’
‘The clients I’m thinking of will be brought here in my personal helicopter. I have one on order, and my chauffeur Bradley is learning to fly it. They will, of course, be invited to stay over at the house. Stag Rock will bowl them over.’
She frowned. ‘You will be running the business from the house? I didn’t realise it was that big.’
‘Of course not, although my private office will be there. The conversion of the old mill — you know, by the river on my Stag Rock estate — is almost complete. From now on, Steven Blake will be running the design and manufacturing end of our regular garment business from our Midlands base. He’s ready for it. Apart from centring my various property and financial interests up here, I want to give my personal attention to building up the Stag label.’
‘I see. I didn’t know the mill was part of Stag Rock.’
‘It was part of the original estate. Years ago, it became redundant and was sold off to pay taxes. After I bought the house, the mill came up for auction. I realised its potential and bought it when I acquired the derelict cottages close by. Selling the restored cottages is paying for the mill’s conversion. The house has already doubled in value, but that will not be sold off. I am making it my permanent home. I have just sold the Old Rectory in the East Midlands. That was a damned good investment. You can’t lose on property.’
‘Does that mean you will be seeing more of Jimmy?’
What was the matter with the woman? Exciting new business developments and all she could think about was family matters? The rot had truly set in.
‘Do you object?’ he asked her.
‘I guess not. He’s old enough to know what he wants.’
Whether June objected or not, his son would soon be living with him at Stag Rock; he would make sure of it. Maybe the boy was an unexpected result of a single adulterous night during her marriage to that idiot Arthur, but James was his only child and essential to his plans.
‘We can discuss our son when things are more settled,’ he told her, endeavouring not to betray the irritation he was feeling. ‘What I have planned will be of enormous benefit to James. It could also be a new beginning for you.’
‘A new beginning for me? Sounds intriguing.’ A new light shone in her eyes, but it quickly faded. ‘It’s no use, Rob, I don’t think I—’
‘Stop right there!’ He lifted his hands in a gesture of frustration. ‘Hear me out, woman, before you start putting yourself down.’
She dropped her eyes and fiddled with the fabric. ‘I was only going to say… never mind, it doesn’t matter.’
‘No, it doesn’t. There’s a lot to tell you. By the time I’ve finished you’ll see exactly where you fit in. First you need to grasp the general picture. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a proper discussion. Now we’re alone, I know I can make things happen for you. And you know it too.’
She looked at him from under her eyelashes but, with cheeks flushed, quickly turned her gaze away. Excitement? Thoughts of a sexual nature? He rubbed his thumb into the deep dimple of his chin and smiled; things will soon be happening. Under the trees in that glorious setting? But business first.
‘We have been preparing to enter an upmarket version of the catalogue trade. It will be run from Steven’s end. I’ve already taken on experienced staff and premises to handle it. Of course, Steven will have overall responsibility and will be answerable only to me.’
‘You’re putting a lot on that young man’s shoulders,’ she commented. ‘Steven must still be in his twenties, or maybe early thirties. Is he up to it?’
‘June,’ he sighed, shaking his head. ‘Away from the cut-and-thrust of business, what do you know about Steven Blake’s potential or anything else? After years of working beside me, he knows exactly how I work. Surely, even you must realise that.’
The look on her face told him she was pained by the rebuke. Not surprising, after once working at top management level, she was now nothing but a has-been.
‘Yes, of course.’ she conceded. ‘He’s the obvious choice.’
‘Glad you approve,’ he retorted, deliberately adding a little salt to her stinging wound. He picked up the fabric and sketch she had placed together. ‘After all, Steven is the one who works on your ideas to give them a chance of success.’ He tossed the sketch and fabric back to her. ‘Yes, that combination should work well by the time Steven has made a few necessary adjustments.’
‘He does a good job,’ she said, giving him a feeble smile, clearly uncertain as to whether she was being praised or belittled. ‘Steven is very capable, creative too. I forget how time has passed me by. At his age, you were building up your business on a huge scale.’
‘And I intend to continue building it up. You’ve heard nothing so far.’
After going into more detail about the catalogue venture, he came to what he knew would bring her to life: he intended making his name in the lucrative teenage market.
‘Think of it, June,’ he urged, clenching his fists with enthusiasm. ‘Be thrilled by it… a whole new enterprise! Teenagers are far more conscious of what they wear than even a few years ago. Now it’s normal for both parents to work, their kids are pampered beyond belief. Their pocket money is akin to what teens used to get in their pay packets! Youngsters have never had it so good. What happens? Boredom sets in. So, the emerging trend is anything that is anti-establishment; even anti anything considered fashionable.’
He thumped the ground. ‘We will provide the punkish clothes for them to rip, tear and fray according to their own personal statement. The garments will be black, purple, murky and just plain drab. Belts, straps, safety pins, studs, thongs, flaps, pendants — you name it — will be incorporated into the garments to provide the necessary adjustments.’ He threw his hands in the air excitedly. ‘Can’t you just see it? The kids will have a ball doing their own thing!’
She didn’t answer, but he sensed that a rapid change in her mood was taking place… like the old days when she so easily absorbed his own enthusiasm for the work they did together.
‘Sounds utterly absurd I know, but we have done our market research and this will be a lucrative winner. And for the less outrageous, we’ll provide tacky patched jeans with flares so wide they’ll be trendsetters! The new label will be Stag Rock. It might be a mere offshoot of Stag Leisure and Sports, but you have to admit it’s a classy name for the anti brigade!’
‘It certainly has a good feel about it.’
‘Erotically stimulating, don’t you think? And it will be in all major stores within a month… less if I get a deal going with a new outworking firm in the Midlands.’
He could see she was gripped. Her eyes were big and sparkling and her whole body tensed with excitement. Years were dropping away from her as she sat enthralled by his enthusiastic account.
‘Gosh, that’s wonderful, Rob.’
‘Of course, we’ll have to be on our toes. Fashion is fleeting and our new label will have to be up front, not trailing behind. It’s not enough to go with the flow, relying on better style, fit and trimmings; we have to take in the whole gamut of the pop scene, and gain insight of the teenage psyche!’
Having run out of steam, he nodded reflectively. ‘It’s quite a challenge for our design team.’
‘Yes, indeed. How very exciting,’ she responded enthusiastically. But the light in her eyes quickly faded. ‘I love it here with Charles and the children,’ she said wistfully, ‘but I feel so outside of things.’ She picked up one of her sketches. ‘What can I do? I’ve lost my spark. I’m useless; everything I do has to be altered. You know it’s true.’ She threw the sketch aside contemptuously. ‘Why do you bother with my designs? I’m not putting anything into your business any more.’
Tears of anger and frustration sparkled in the corners of her eyes. She picked up another sketch and tore it to pieces.
He made no attempt to stop her, for he knew, to his cost, the truth of her words. It was good to have her acknowledge it. But he also knew that he, and he alone, had the power to change things.
‘You know why I want you tied up with me,’ he said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. ‘You are the mother of my son, and the only woman I have ever asked to marry me.’
She sat silent, looking towards the lake. He watched a tear roll down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away with her hand.
‘Anyway, most of your fabric patterns are promising even if your dress designs are not up to scratch.’
The painful truth of having her own comments confirmed drew lines of unhappiness around her eyes and mouth. He wanted to hurt her, wanted her to suffer the consequences of leaving him for Charles. But he also wanted to heal her and bring her back to his side. Once she was under his control, her creative genius would ignite and flare with its former radiance. She would lose her mumsy image and become a vibrant woman. But more than that, with her beside him, he himself would be whole again, just as she would be.
He gently touched her hand. ‘June, nothing has left you. Come back to me. I can bring your gift to life.’
She was still avoiding eye contact. He drew closer to her. ‘You can do anything you want to do,’ he murmured softly. ‘Charles won’t stop you.’
A breeze blew across the lake, breaking the reflected sky and hills into glittering ripples. Not a boat was in sight. There was no sound or movement on land other than those of nature. They were completely alone with no one to see or hear them. Rob placed his hands on June’s cheeks and turned her face towards him. She had tears in her eyes. He lifted up her chin, putting his other hand through her rich brown hair. She didn’t resist him. Her eyes half-closed and her lips began to part. He lightly kissed her, moving his hand from her cheek to brush against a breast. He could feel her body tensing with desire.
‘Rob, I shouldn’t be doing this,’ she whispered.
‘Do you want me to leave you alone?’ He was absolutely certain she did not. He moved his lips over her cheeks and eyes.
‘No, no,’ she moaned softly.
‘No, you want me to go on? Or no, you want me to stop?’
‘Yes.’
He instantly pulled away.
‘No, don’t, not yet,’ she begged. ‘I want you to breathe new life into me like you used to do. My designs will always fail without you in my life.’
‘Quite true. Charles knows it too. He knew we would be alone together, didn’t he?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, dropping her eyes.
‘I guess that guy really loves you. But I love you too.’ He gripped her shoulders hard. She flinched but didn’t complain. ’But my love is far more demanding: ruthless, as you know only too well.’
‘Oh Rob, I feel so mixed up,’ she muttered tearfully. ‘I don’t know what I want anymore. But Charlie mustn’t get hurt. I’d rather give up designing altogether than have that happen.’
‘No need for anyone to get hurt,’ he told her, moving his lips over her neck and shoulders. ‘We’re alone with no one to disturb us.’
Pushing her gently on to her back, he brought his mouth down over her open lips, engaging his tongue in sensuous pleasure. Moving a hand inside her blouse he felt the fullness of her breasts, delighting to find her nipples responding to his touch.
‘No, Rob,’ she panted. ‘No more, we must go inside now.’
‘Come on, you know what you really want,’ he breathed softly. ‘Isn’t that why you were here by the lake?’
She didn’t answer him. Just turned her eyes away.
He knew she was feeling guilty of betrayal. It was the same old story. Yet she desperately wanted him to go on; all his women did. But she was different: she wanted more than his body. She was longing for his energising power to revitalise the creative force within her. Only her love for Charlie was making her hesitate and put up a show of resistance, of that he was certain. Breaking down that barrier of conscience, and igniting the embers of a past torrid affair was a gratifying challenge.
June was a fool to have married her dead husband’s brother. She belonged to the exciting, adrenaline-pumping, risky world that he himself inhabited. He felt certain that Charles had come to accept the truth of it. Any full-blooded male would rather have an exciting, high-spirited wife who had the occasional affair, than a domesticated pet of a woman. He was determined she would come alive again, to him and to herself. He glanced around him. In the privacy of the surrounding shrubs and trees, he intended going all the way. He knew there would be no need for coercion. Before long she would be opening up to him, eager for his forceful penetration.
Pulling the elasticised neck of her blouse down over her breasts, his mouth found and gripped a rigid mound. Encouraged by her soft moaning, he lifted the hem of her skirt and moved his hand up the inside of her thighs. He smiled at the sharp intake of breath as he reached his goal.
‘No more,’ she softly pleaded.
‘No more?’ he teased.
She was ready for him all right, hot and moist, quite delectable. His seducing fingers increased their arousing movements, causing her to gasp with ecstasy.
He closed his mouth over hers.
She suddenly pushed his face away. ‘It’s going too far.’
‘We’ll see,’ he whispered. ‘Just relax.’
Whatever she may plead, the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes were begging him to go on.
He pulled aside her skirt and looked on her nakedness. The object of his desire was deliciously inviting, and he had no intention of denying himself the sweetest of pleasures. He bent over to satisfy his craving. It would be hard for him to stop now. As he breathed in her feminine scent, gripping sensations were urging him forward to taste of its source.
‘Rob,’ she sighed, ‘how can I resist you? You are part of me.’
Such a perfect setting: sounds of songbirds and whispering leaves joined with her sighs and soft moaning. Dappled sunlight played on her face, aglow with hedonistic pleasure. Soon she began panting… gasping… groaning.
He was groaning with her. The time was ripe — perfect. As he exposed his own body to the sun and pleasant breeze, he heard what he knew would come. Her voice was urgent… begging… pleading: ‘Oh, yes, yes….’
She opened to him like a blossoming flower, the luscious folds enticing him inwards. His penetration was deep and forceful and she groaned loudly with the pleasure of it. Before long, he sensed her reaching a state of ecstatic euphoria. He swiftly changed their positions, pulling her hard on to him. Finally, he allowed himself to let go and experience the rapture with her.
Exuberant cries rent their throats.
The startled birds above them flew up into the air as though joining their joyful and liberating release. Leaves fluttered to earth. Rob relaxed. It had been perfect, absolutely perfect.
Resting, June contented by his side, Robert smiled broadly: he had won her back. Once again, he had ignited her lust for life, and as far as he was concerned, however deep her relationship to Charles, she could never escape her need of him. She loved him all right, of that he was convinced. But it was a joining of souls that ran deep within her subconscious. Her sexual hunger was earthy and primitive and that was the way he liked it. Today was just a beginning. Next time, he would satisfy those deeper inner urges she rarely admitted to.
The next step was to have her working with him again. That was where she belonged, in the business world, not living like a story-book rabbit. He laughed at his own thoughts. Unless things changed, she would even be looking like a mummy bunny — round and cosy and greying at the edges!
She glanced at him quizzically. ‘What’s funny?’
‘Oh, just laughing at the absurdness of human activity.’
She smiled. ‘Yes, it is rather hilarious, but somehow very beautiful.’
He stopped himself from grinning. ‘Better get tidied up,’ he told her, getting back on track. ‘We have things to discuss.’
Things indeed. She was coming back to him. With him to inspire her, he knew her designs would once again have that certain flair little short of genius. Stag Rock was now a new beginning for both of them. His considerable wealth and power was proof enough of his business acumen. But as to an affair of the heart? Of course he was never short of mere sex, but he was yet to prove himself in a loving relationship.
Chapter Three
By mid afternoon, Charles had his eye on the clock, wondering if his wife’s meeting with Robert Watson was still in progress. Were they on the terrace as he had suggested? He knew they wouldn’t be disturbed: older members of the family would be out, Joan Brown and her daughter Susan would be working in the kitchen and upstairs for most of the day. His sister-in-law should be looking after the children, and it was the gardener’s day off.
He picked up the phone and dialled home. Mrs Brown‘s voice came over the line.
‘Edencroft.’
‘Joan, it’s Charles. Will you ask Susan if she will leave off cleaning and look after the children until I arrive home, please? I need Peggy to bring me a file I’ve left on my desk. June will be busy with Mr Watson for the rest of the afternoon. I’ll pay Susan for any extra hours; usual rates.’
‘Susan will be quite happy to do that, Captain Rogers,’ she said in her usual polite manner. ‘She enjoys looking after the children.’
‘Good,’ he said, relieved. ‘Now will you put Peggy on the line please?’
While Charles sat nervously tapping a pencil, he began regretting what he was doing. Not so much the deed of organising domestic affairs, that was harmless enough, but the whole business of taking responsibility for his wife’s happiness and the future of their marriage. Should he have discussed the matter with June? But working alongside Watson again was something she had always refused to talk about. In fact, she became irritable and morose each time the subject was raised. Now he was tossing the ball into her court and forcing her to play it, one way or another. He was having second thoughts about discussing his plans with his sister-in-law when Peggy’s cheerful voice came down the line.
‘Hi, Charlie. What’s up? I thought you were coming home early today, but Joan said something about a file. Do you want me to ask June where it is? She’s somewhere in the garden with Robert Watson. At least, I think he’s still here. Hang on.’ There was a brief pause. ‘Yes, I can see his posh car in the drive. Before she went outside — that was before Watson arrived — she said to get them tea at four o’clock. Mm, yes, that’s another hour, so he’ll be here for ages yet. Watson came early. June was down by the lake. I haven’t seen them around, so they must be having their meeting there. But I don’t mind butting in on my sister’s conference with Randy Robbie. He’s already been here long enough to—’
‘Peggy, for goodness sake, shut up!’ Charles didn’t want to hear any more about his wife and Robert; his imagination was already inflamed with unwelcome images. ‘I’m sorry, that’s rude of me. But please let me get a word in.’
‘Don’t apologise, Charlie. Just my big mouth sounding off again. I—’
‘There is no file,’ Charles quickly cut in, ‘I just want your company. I need to talk to someone I know and can trust. Will you hand the kids to Susan? I’ve already arranged it with her mother. I would like you to drive over here. Well, not here exactly. We’ll arrange some place that’s private.’
‘Oh Charlie, you know I will.’ Her voice lowered almost to a whisper. ‘How about I bring my massage oils with me, and we meet in that car park by the sand dunes? You know, where we took the kids a couple of weeks ago. Roanhead, that’s it. With the school holidays finished there won’t be many folk around.’
Charles only just caught what she was saying, but what he heard really enthused him. ‘My girl, you’re an angel of mercy. That’s just what I need at present. You know, Peggy, I’ve really missed that part of our relationship. I’ll see you within the hour then. I’ve got a rug in the car; just bring yourself and the oil. Oh, and you’d better get hold of an empty folder. You’ll find one in the top drawer of the filing cabinet. Carry it under your arm as you leave the house.’
‘Very conspiratorial! I’ll see you soon then.’
Peggy hurried upstairs to get changed. Why did Charlie need to talk? Why was he being so mysterious? And accepting a massage too! Oh boy, she sure was looking forward to it. Fancy, he’d chosen her to confide in despite so many colleagues, close friends and relatives. She reached the second flight of stairs and ran up to the top. Charlie needed her — yes, her — June’s number one Ugly Sister! Well, not that ugly. Thinking about it, she did have June’s hazel eyes and dark hair, they were both five feet six and, since June had given birth to Eva, they were now the same weight; it was just distributed differently. Reaching the landing, off which were her rooms, she caught sight of herself in the large gilt-framed mirror hanging on the wall of the corridor. Mm, yes, she did have her mother’s ugly nose and her lips were too puffy to be nicely shaped. But, at least, she did know how to use them and make a man feel good about himself. Come to think of it, lips, whatever their size, were pretty good communicators for both parties involved. She sighed as she opened the door to her compact apartment: soon she would be alone with Charlie.
She ran to her bedroom, hastily unbuttoning her blouse to throw it on the bright patchwork quilt of her single bed. Looking inside her wardrobe she picked out a new lemon cotton dress, wondering if Charlie would like it. Just thinking about him gave her a warm glow inside. Tall, handsome, brown-eyed, Charlie. Even his greying dark hair suited his debonair image. As she changed into the dress, she recalled how she used to go all of a twitter when seeing him in uniform, and hearing him speak with his posh voice. She never could understand why June had married his brother Arthur, so much older and not nearly as handsome. But he was a good, kind husband for all that.
No time to wash and apply new make-up, she quickly smeared on a little extra lipstick and brushed her hair. Sad that Arthur died, but good that Charlie came to live with June soon after. And she, Peggy Bush — Rose Margaret Armstrong until after her marriage — was given the opportunity to massage Charlie’s rippling muscles. Now she was going to get her hands on his sexy body again. She felt hot and flushed even at the thought of it. Will he still have the hard body of a fit athlete half his age? Well, she was about to find out.
‘Calm yourself, girl,’ she told herself in the mirror. ‘Mustn’t get too excited or you’ll let your hands stray.’
She pulled on new white sandals, thinking about their in-law relationship. She was sure he loved her. Not in the way she loved him, and certainly not the way he loved June, but a gentle trustful sort of love. He wanted her touch, and she was going to give him comfort. It gladdened her heart and made her feel very special to him. Love for him began to flow in tears. She quickly wiped them away, searched out her massage oil, and within minutes was heading outside with car keys in hand, bag over her shoulder, and an empty file tucked under her arm.
She gave a brief glance up at the house as she left it. It was a habit hard to break. She never stopped marvelling at her good fortune to be living in such a magnificent property. Like her sister, she had been brought up to accept the minimum of comfort: everything cheap but serviceable. This magnificent Victorian mansion, set in gardens running down to woods and lake, couldn’t be more dissimilar to the terraced council house she’d moved into when she married her no-good husband, Reg Bush. She loved the large rooms with the high ornate ceilings and cornices, the curved staircase with its carved banisters and newel posts, and the solid doors in the same grand style. But most of all, she enjoyed the tall stained-glass window casting jewels of light on the staircase, and those in the hall enriching the ambience of graceful living. Her eyes wandered from the pillared porch to the elegant mullioned bay windows, and then moved upwards to take in the curious ornate chimneys. She was reminded of the huge open fireplaces in the reception rooms that, when a cheerful glow was desired, burned logs from their own fallen trees. Yes, it was a style of living far beyond anything she had ever imagined possible. She turned the corner to where her car was parked, catching a glimpse of Lake Windermere beyond the trees, but she had no time to stand and stare and think poetic thoughts today.
Of course, she was greatly indebted to her sister. It was largely her income that kept the place running and the staff paid. No doubt about it, June had treated her very kindly. In spite of knowing of her attachment to Charlie, she had invited her to live at Edencroft to help with the children. With a private apartment, small income and plenty of time off, what more could a girl want? Well, independence for starters! With her sister’s designing on the wane, getting herself a part-time job at a nearby hotel was good insurance. Peggy sighed: she would do anything to be able to stay at Edencroft. It had become her home, and Charles meant much more to her than a mere brother-in-law.
Climbing into her red Mini, an indispensable tool that came with the job, she switched on the ignition and was quickly away.
Driving along pleasant country lanes and through sleepy hamlets, she drank in the fresh, sweet-smelling country air and happily hummed Oh, What a Beautiful Morning. Trees, rich in their summer foliage, cast patches of shade across the road and occasionally framed glimpses of sparkling water. Everything was so delightfully rustic: moss-covered walls, dark ivies with glistening leaves, neglected coppices growing wildly among tall broad-leaved trees, sheep standing in the road or threading their way through fern and gorse. Oh, what a beautiful, beautiful day. And having Charlie to herself, she had a wonderful feeling that everything was coming her way. Oh, what a beautiful, marvellous, fantastic, stupendous day!
Passing through the small market town of Ulverston, its cobbled streets filled with relaxed shoppers in from the country seeking bargains or meeting friends, she made a mental note to book seats at the Coronation Hall to see a brass band that was on tour. A few more miles and she was within sight of the sea and the glistening Duddon Estuary, beyond which stood the high fells of Black Combe vibrant in sunshine and shadow. Life could not be sweeter: the sun was shining, the world around her was magnificent, and Charlie needed her.
He was waiting for her at the appointed place. In spite of having removed his tie and jacket, he was looking as immaculate as ever. He greeted her with his beaming smile. It never failed to excite her heart.
‘Thanks for coming, Peggy. I knew I could rely on you.’
She’d always thought his voice pleasant on the ear, whether speaking, laughing or singing tenor in church, but today it was even more attractive. His appreciation added a heart-warming mellowness to its dulcet tones. She felt tears of joy forming in her eyes and fought to suppress them. Smiling, she handed him the empty file.
’My pleasure, Charlie.’
He promptly threw the file on the passenger seat of his Mercedes. ‘Don’t need that, but I think we’ll need this.’
As she watched him pick up a rug from the back seat, a quiver of excitement ran through her body. Alone on a rug with Charlie — golly!
‘Right, I’ll lead the way,’ he told her, locking the car and slipping the keys into the buttoned pocket of his shirt. ‘I like the dress. Is it new?’
‘Fancy you noticing. Yes, it is new.’
He turned and smiled. ‘You don’t usually wear yellow. It suits you.’
It was true; she didn’t usually wear yellow. She made a mental note to replace a few of her duller outfits.
When they reached the sand, following Charlie’s example of baring his feet, she took off her sandals and walked with him over the dunes. Her eyes swept the beach. She could just make out a small party of young children with two women some distance away, and one or two people walking their dogs over by the sea. Good, not many people around. They found a sheltered hollow in the dunes and Charles spread out the rug. She sat down beside him: elbows on knees, chin in hands, ready to listen.
When Peggy heard what Charles had done and why, she was amazed.
‘Charlie, what are you thinking of? You know what Randy Robbie’s like. My sister may be a professional designer but she’s putty in the hands of that fiendish entrepreneur! Golly, I wish I had a man to love me like you love her. She doesn’t appreciate what she’s got.’ Seeing her comments were irritating him she quickly apologised: ‘Sorry for sounding off. You’re a great guy, Charlie. I guess I’m jealous.’
But Charles was now looking at her with sadness in his eyes. Was he regretting calling her out?
‘I’m sorry, Peggy. I guess I’m always using you.’
‘That’s what friends are for.’ She was doing her best not to hug him for being so gentle with her.
He nodded. ‘Even so, I very much appreciate all that you do for us.’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s all part of the job.’
‘No, a bit more than that,’ he said, nodding knowingly. ‘And I do realise what you feel for me.’ His gentle smile bore witness to the truth of his words. ‘But I don’t want to play on it. You understand what I’m trying to say?’
Unable to cope with the intensity of her feelings, she had to look away or burst into tears. Biting her lip, she watched the seagulls gliding and dipping above them, seemingly crying out the frustration of her own inner longings. ‘Yes,’ she eventually croaked.
Charles took her hand and tenderly kissed it. ‘I’m a lucky man. I feel privileged to have you care the way you do.’
It was too much. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand and gathered her wits together.
‘Apart from easing your muscles, how can I help you, Charlie? We both know what June’s like once she gets going in Watson’s business world. She’ll have no time for mundane matters.’
Charles was nodding in agreement. ‘Quite right. If June decides to work full time, things could get a little hectic. I’m determined not to let the children lose out. Within a year or so, the situation should ease up. I hope to hand over the Project Manager’s job to someone else and concentrate on consultancy work, most of which I can do from home. Eventually, developments in computer technology will make the task much easier. Believe me, I’ve given the matter a lot of thought.’
‘Golly, Charlie, you’re going to be busy.’
‘Maybe, but I’m also going to make sure that June gets home early enough for us to have quality time with the kids and with each other. It will be part of the bargain. So, it looks as if we’ll need someone responsible for running the household.’
‘I can see that. I guess that’s where I come in?’ She smiled in hopeful anticipation.
‘Right,’ he replied, studying her intently. ‘I know you do a lot already, but would you be prepared to give up your part-time job at the hotel and be totally committed to us? I’ll make sure you get a good financial package. Of course, you’ll miss out on the social side of your barmaid job, and that could be hard for you. Joan Brown is not exactly a bundle of fun as a companion, and her husband Bob even less so. You will need extra help too. I’m hoping Joan will work full time, and perhaps Susan could manage an extra hour or so. I’m sure Ruth will continue to give a hand when she’s not modelling and—’
‘Charlie, stop! There’s no need for your daughter to get more involved; she does enough already. I’ll manage with extra time from the others. I’d love to do what you ask; you have no idea how much.’ Her heart was racing with joy. She tried to keep calm and sensible. ‘Leave the staffing to me. Give me the authority and I’ll speak to Mrs Brown and we’ll work things out between us.’
He gave her one of his disarming smiles. ‘That’s wonderful, Peggy. I knew I could rely on you.’
She soaked in his appreciation and continued with suggestions that came flowing into her mind. She finally concluded: ‘As for the children, as soon as June hands over, I’ll take charge first thing in the morning and look after them during the day. When you both get home, they’ll be ready for you to enjoy. I know how much you love bath time and reading to them. But I’ll be around anyway, so you won’t need to worry if you’re both held up.’ She looked at him, smiling with sympathy while trying to suppress her blissful happiness. ‘I expect June will be away quite a bit, like before, but we’ll manage very nicely, you’ll see.’
She nearly said that it would be just like being his wife, but she managed to keep that thought to herself. He might think she was expecting bedroom bliss as part of the package. Instead she grinned and pointed to her bag containing oils and a towel. ‘Now take off your clothes and let me get to work.’
‘Better keep your voice down,’ he laughed, stripping off his shirt and loosening his trousers. ‘I’m really looking forward to this, Peggy. I don’t think you’ve given me a massage since I married June.’
She didn’t want to be reminded of his marriage at a time like this. She opened one of her bottles of oil. The delicate scent of ylang-ylang, mingling with light sea breezes, met her nostrils. She poured a little of the oil onto her left palm and softened her hands before the task ahead.
‘We can’t be seen here. Strip to your underpants or you might get oil on your trousers… that could give folk a wrong message.’
Before long, he was stretched out on the rug wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. She worked her palms and fingers over his broad muscular back, giving special attention to his shoulders. His natural masculine aroma overruled the oil, and she was finding it hard to concentrate on the job in hand.
‘Mmmm, that’s great,’ he murmured.
His sighs of contentment gladdened her heart. ‘I can see you still do your morning push-ups. You’ve got the body of a young athlete.’
‘Well, I still do my exercises most mornings but occasionally other priorities have to take precedence.
She considered what those priorities might be. Seeing to the children maybe? Or was it pleasuring his wife? She let her imagination wander: in bed… out of bed… on the floor… in the shower. Moaning and groaning, yelling and shrieking. What a man. And here he was under her body as she kneeled astride his legs, moving her hands up his spine and across his back. How she would love to reach inside his shorts and….
‘My neck has been aching lately,’ he told her, breaking into her licentious musings.
She changed her position, massaging the muscles of his neck, upper spine and out to his shoulders. Moving to his feet, she asked him to roll over. His groans of pleasure as she treated him to a bit of reflexology, were stiffening her nipples. Restraining herself from going to the top of his thighs, and beyond, was pure agony.
His eyes opened. Had he sensed her tension? She knew what he could see written on her face: a sexually aroused, far from beautiful middle-aged woman, who was hopelessly in love with him.
‘Peggy, I’m so sorry,’ he said tenderly, ‘I shouldn’t have—’
‘No, Charlie, don’t say it,’ she pleaded, fighting to keep her voice steady. She moved to sit by his side. ‘You’ve made me so happy, just to be near you. I ask for nothing more.’
He sat up and regarded her tenderly. ‘How typical of you, Peggy,’ he said, stroking the wetness from her cheeks. ‘Freely giving of yourself. Thanks for the massage… best ever.’
He lay back on the rug, knees up, taking in the sun. Was his mind on June? It certainly would not be on the woman sitting beside him.
She sat thinking of what might have been. In her imagination she could see him pulling her down and rolling over to kiss her — both passionate and tender — her body soon on fire with the pleasure of his embrace.
‘Oh Charlie,’ she whispered softly, suddenly drawing in a deep breath as she imagined what his hand would be doing.
‘What was that, Peggy?’ Charlie asked her.
‘Just thinking aloud,’ she quickly told him, smiling to herself.
She lay back on the rug and swiftly returned to her erotic dreaming.
The daydream ended and she sighed contentedly. With Charlie by her side, her make-believe had given her more than a modicum of sexual satisfaction. Of course, fantasising over her sister’s husband was nothing new; it went back many years. But now under the sun with him by her side — absolute bliss!
She opened her eyes to see him smiling down at her.
‘Are you all right, Peggy?’ he asked her. ‘You look as if you’ve had too much sun. Perhaps we should be going now.’
Peggy collected her things. ‘It’s been a great afternoon, Charlie,’ she said contentedly. ‘You have no idea what being here has done for me.’
He picked up the rug and smiled knowingly. Had he been beaming in on her daydreaming?
Chapter Four
Susan Brown, having served tea and scones to Robert Watson, June and Jimmy, left them sitting in the conservatory and drifted to the kitchen, grinning at her thoughts. Her mother, standing by the worktop, poured tea into two white cups from a large red pot. The two children were sitting at the huge well-scrubbed table, Adam on a heavy kitchen chair and Eva in her high chair. They were eating cake and drinking homemade lemonade.
‘Don’t gobble your food, Adam,’ Susan’s mother said sternly. She looked up. ‘What’s so funny?’