Truly I do (12 page)

Her fists were
balled on the table top and her knuckles were red from exasperated
tension. Her face was set in a stubborn glare. "Well that was all
very quickly done wasn't it? I leave you in a room with two women
you've never met before and by the time I've poured a pot of tea
you've practically got one of them sitting in your lap while the
other is pawing at your arm. What was going on there, that's what
I'd like to know?"

"You're
exaggerating what you think you saw." Russell protested, "I was
just being pleasant with your friends. It's not as if you came in
and found us romping around your living room naked together or
anything is it?"

As a shock
reaction the very idea Russell had just put forward Julie-Anne
burst out laughing. Frustration and tension were released when she
play-slapped at his arm and, with a sweeping gesture, swiped away
the laughter tears that streamed from her eyes.

"Hey you!" he
said gently, "Don't come over all suspicious and possessive on on
me now. After all it is nearly Christmas and they are your good
friends - maybe we were conspiring about what gift I should get
you, eh!"

'Of course!
How could I have been so stupid?' Julie-Anne immediately accepted
his hint of an explanation and sat staring gratefully up into his
handsome face.

"Do you love
me Russell?" She sought reassurance.

"I love you
truly." He answered, bending forward to kiss her forehead. "Now,
where were we before your friends came along and so rudely
interrupted us?"

The rest of
their Christmas was an intimate and cosy time. They got up late,
ate simple healthy meals together, walked the country lanes in the
white frost and golden winter sunshine; and they curled up each
evening in front of a roaring log fire.

When it was
bath or shower time Russell was happy to spend an hour or more
washing and brushing Julie-Anne's hair, massaging her back with
moisturisers and essential oils or pampering her feet with soft
creams and kisses.

When it was
bed time he continued to be a satisfying and most generous lover.
She prayed that the attentions she paid to him were as thrilling
and as cherished as those he lavished on her. Her jealousy
regarding his apparently immediate intimacy with Grace were quickly
and easily forgotten.

On Christmas
morning, sitting in Julie-Anne's bed together, they unwrapped their
presents to each other. She'd bought him a very smart Italian
leather brief case because she'd noticed that he tended to carry
his papers either loose or in a very old cracked leather Gladstone
bag. "That might be all right for a teacher", she explained, "but
when you become lord of your ten bedroomed manor you're going to
need to look the part.!" She'd also bought him a decent pair of
leather gloves and a cashmere scarf in blue to highlight his eyes.
When he peppered her with kisses of thanks she shrugged and,
smiling cheekily, said "What do you give the man who has inherited
millions?"

"Yeah," he
responded, looking serious for a moment, "I'm still trying to get
to the bottom of that. I mean the amount my father left me is far
more that you'd expect a simple man to have amassed from
straightforward ventures and investments. Anyway, it seems that dad
was left pretty well off by his own father. I've been doing some
digging and it seems there was a family rift which caused my dad to
pretty much turn his back on his own inheritance and live as if it
didn't exist. Crazy eh?"

Julie-Anne
grinned, leaning over to tenderly kiss Russell, she murmured "I'd
take you with or without the fabulous wealth. I kind of like things
just the way they are right now. It'll be funny when things start
to change and you start to move up in the world."

"Well, here's
my first ever really extravagant gift, bought for you, my darling,
from my fabulous personal wealth!" With an expression of purest
adoration, he handed her a small oblong box shaped parcel which
Julie-Anne eagerly unwrapped to reveal a beautiful gold and diamond
set watch. "Let's not behave like kids though." Russell added
throatily, "I don't want you to make a habit of making vulgar
remarks about money. From here on you must learn to be more
sophisticated about it."

Julie-Anne
coloured up a little at his admonishment but he was smiling at her
and, after having helped her to fasten her new watch, he busied his
hands with bringing her body to an aroused state.

When New
Year's Eve came Russell popped home to change and promised to meet
Julie-Anne at the village hall at seven thirty.

Julie-Anne had
been into town with him and they'd bought new outfits for the
dance. Hers was a strapless Christian Dior from the cruise
collection for that season. It was a turquoise blue, embroidered
bustier dress in silk chiffon with tiny pleated details on the long
billowing skirts. A feminine bow held the floating fabric in at a
high waist and shimmering coloured sequins had been hand sewn into
the embroidered top.

On her petite
figure, with her dark hair lovingly brushed to a glossy shine and
groomed into a cascade of succulent curls that cascaded over her
bare shoulders, she looked stunning.

She had chosen
a pair of strappy, sexily high healed sandals in gold and turquoise
to go with the dress, and had a chunky gold chain with a fine
turquoise stone that hung to just above her bosom, enhancing the
curve of her delicate neck and showing off the contrasts between
the tones of her fine skin and those of the delectable dress. Of
course her new gold and diamond watch adorned her slender wrist and
her gold fabric clutch bag with tiny turquoise stones on the clasp
set off the whole outfit just perfectly.

To protect her
outfit Julie-Anne splashed out on a taxi to drive her to the
village hall, arriving a fashionable ten minutes late. When she
walked in, the sight of Russell done up in a handsome black dress
suit with an almost blindingly white shirt and smartly tied bow tie
took her breath away. His bronzed face had never looked so
handsome, his blonde curls had been tamed and provided an angelic
halo around his finely chiselled temple. The white collar seemed to
glow against his tanned neck. His broad chest heaved under crisp
cotton when he gasped at the sight of Julie-Anne's dress. As he
strode across the hall with his hands outstretched toward her, the
big muscles of his thighs strained against the fine fabric of his
trousers. People watched and smiled as she fell into his arms.

"Good Lord!"
Russell breathed into her hair, "I leave you at home on your own
for a couple of hours and you've turned into a goddess!"

"What about
you?" She asked, laughing as she pulled back to look up into his
shining eyes. "What have you done with my unruly Viking warrior?
This impeccable looking gentleman must surely be an impostor?"

Russell freed
one hand from his embrace to pull at the neck of his shirt where
the neatly knotted bow tie held it firmly to his throat. "Beware of
Vikings in smart suits!" he murmured, "I can only imagine how
splendid it will be when I don my old horned helmet later on
tonight and drag you by the hair to our lair to pillage that fine
goddess body of yours."

Before she
could answer him the band struck up and he swept her onto the dance
floor in a swirling waltz. They had never danced together before
and Julie-Anne was delighted to find he had masterful expertise as
he guided her around the floor. His touch in the small of her back
was at once light and controlling - she was like putty in his
hands. The evening melted away as they swirled and danced together,
their bodies seeming to be perfectly attuned to dance in time
without faltering.

At nine thirty
they stopped to sit down and eat the supper laid on as part of the
evening. Julie-Anne hardly noticed the food she ate as she coyly
acknowledged compliments from folk she knew from the village store,
and once even from a couple who were prefect strangers. She stayed
close to Russell so that their thighs were touching under the
table. He kept one hand on her leg, tantalising the sensitive spot
behind her knee so that she wriggled with secret delight, sipping
her glass of wine and nibbling on roasted meats. Being so close to
him in public was electrifying.

After they'd
finished eating and she'd rested for a while with her head on his
smartly suited shoulder, they went back to the dance floor and
spent from ten-thirty until eleven forty-five smooching in each
other's arms, whispering 'I love you truly' into each other's hair
line, and enjoying the flirtatious sensations of the physical
passions that seemed to swell up between them. Sometimes it was
almost too much to bear, their bodies lusts urged them to just
stand still and kiss. Julie-Anne felt as if she in a waking dream,
nothing could have felt more perfect than their love for one
another on this evening.

Eventually the
music was halted and everybody got ready for the village chimes to
bong out a count of twelve. The crowd inside the hall counted down
from ten until the chimes started, then they cheered raucously and
laughed and started to move around Russell and Julie-Anne singing
Auld Lang syne, shaking hands and kissing merrily to bring in the
New Year.

Russell
covered Julie-Anne's mouth with his own and pressed his tongue into
the soft, moist, secret depths of hers. The passion of his kiss
almost suffocated her as he explored her mouth and held her so
tightly in his arms. On the last cheer of the crowd's
hip-hip-hooray he finally let her go and stepped back to kneel on
the floor in front of her.

People saw
what was happening and excitedly gathered to make a circle around
them. Julie-Anne began to shake in anticipation of what was coming
as Russell fumbled to pull a tiny black box from the inside pocket
of his dress jacket. He flipped open the lid and proffered up a
sparkling diamond ring.

Julie-Anne
stared at the ring, it was not ostentatious or crass, it was just a
perfect solitaire gleaming beautifully against its black
setting.

He looked up
into her wide-open eyes. "Truly?" he asked.

Julie-Anne's
knees began to tremble and a terrible hard fist of a knot twisted
her stomach and rose up to tighten her throat so that she could not
breath. Her head began to swim and visions of her first wedding
blanked out all of the noises and sights around her at this merry
little village party.

A misted image
of Andrew's face overtook her mind.

She gasped and
saw, in her mind's eye, Andrew looking so . . . so uninterested, so
matter of fact, so lacking in love and dispassionate. Her mind
recalled that wedding when she had shyly lifted the white veil from
her face and looked up into Andrew's eyes. Andrew's dull, loveless
eyes. Even on that day she should have seen that his pretence of
love and romance had already been cast aside. He'd got her to marry
him - job done! All that remained for Andrew after that day had
been to move into her conveniently ready home and get on with his
life, calling only on Julie-Anne's personal attention if it suited
him to take her somewhere or to satisfy his passionless needs.

Here in the
village hall, at the stroke of midnight, with Russell kneeling
expectantly before her, her whole body was now quaking with fear. A
feeling of sickness washed through her head making her feel
nauseated and desperate to get out to the fresh air.

Russell was
clutching her shivering hand, she could see his face smiling up at
her as if through a fog, he was trying to put the ring on her
finger and looking puzzled as if he was waiting for her to say
something.

Suddenly
horrified, she shook her head and pulled her hand free.

Russell tried
to snatch it back but she couldn't do this, she just couldn't.

She grabbed
the flowing skirts of her gown and made a dash for the door. If
she'd opened her mouth to speak, to try to explain she'd just be
sick, she knew she would. So she ran.

Gasping,
Julie-Anne stumbled out into the frozen dark night and on up the
lanes on her high heels that cruelly turned her ankles and caused
pain to shoot up her calves. Clutching her skirts as if they were a
life line she kept on running until she was home . . . safe . . .
alone.

She fled up
the stairs to her bed room, tearing off her shoes and necklace as
she went, and threw herself, sobbing, onto her bed.

A few moments
later she heard the door slam and Russell's footsteps heavy on the
stairs. Through tear veiled eyes she saw his shape outlined against
the landing light, framed in her bedroom door. Ashamed of her
behaviour she turned her face away from him. He stood still for a
while watching her as she lay sobbing into her pillow. With the
stealth of a cat he moved to sit on the bed beside her and gently
started to stroke the back of her head. "Hey you!" he whispered,
"Don't run away - not now."

Eventually she
gathered enough self-control to roll over and look up at him. He
patiently smoothed her dark hair where it spread over a white
cotton pillow. He used the ball of his thumb to softly wipe tear
stains from her swollen cheeks. He wiped away a smudge of lipstick
from her trembling chin. Finally he settled his eyes to lock and
hold hers and said "Well, you're a one for running away at critical
moments aren't you?"

"I'm so sorry
Russell," she implored "it's just that I suddenly had visions of
what marriage has meant to me in the past." She pushed herself up
onto her elbows so that her face was closer to his. "I'm so sorry
Russell, I don't mean to turn you down but, well . . . I just can't
face ruining what we have. Does that make any sense to you?"

"In a way it
does," he conceded. "But you must know Julie-Anne, I do love you
truly. I would do nothing to hurt you, I promise. But I can't
encourage this habit you have of running off all the time. Every
time something happens to bring us closer together you make a bolt
for it."