“Well, you sound like a man that knows his own business,” Peenie said, lifting his eyes to heaven. He could almost hear the rashers of bacon crackling in the pan. “Now – I’d better be on me way. The head-woman will have the oul’ bite nearly ready by now.”
“Mrs Lynch is a down-to-earth woman,” Charles continued, “and wouldn’t take a person up the wrong way.” He gave Peenie a knowing smile. “Believe you me, Peenie – I know what I’m talking about.”
Peenie flicked the cigarette-butt high in the air over the car. “A thought just crossed my mind, Charles,” he said, “a
mighty
thought. You don’t think that mad fella could have been doin’ a line with Mrs Lynch or anythin’?”
“A line?” Charles said, his brow creasing.
“Courtin’ . . .
you know
, walkin’ out with her,” Peenie said. “Because that would explain everythin’ – now that would paint a whole different picture entirely.”
“You mean Mrs Lynch could be romantically entangled
with somebody else?” Charles asked, sounding incredulous.
“I would hardly think so. And certainly not somebody of that fellow’s calibre – certainly not somebody that would throw himself on top of a moving vehicle. A complete lunatic.”
“Well . . .” Peenie said, buttoning up his old navy suit jacket, “I wouldn’t be too sure about it, Charlie boy. I’d give it a bit of thought if I were you.” He gave Charles a friendly punch on the arm. “Good luck to ye now, Charles – an’ I’ll be seeing you in the morning.”
And on that parting word of advice – Peenie took his leave, his step hastened by the thought of the grand fry-up that lay waiting in the pan for him.
Chapter 25
Lake Savannah
Jameson was the first thought on Aisling’s mind when she woke with the early morning sun glinting through the window as he had been the last thought in her head when she closed her eyes only hours earlier.
It was Jameson again as she slipped out of bed and into a warm bath, and he was there again she did up the buttons on her pale pink blouse and zipped up her ankle-length white trousers.
And her mind was full of him as she padded barefoot across the polished oak floors carrying her leather loafers in her hand, and as she silently left the house.
The light inside door creaked slightly as she closed it behind her, and she waited for a few moments to see if she had disturbed her aunt and uncle. But there was not a sound to be heard in or out of the house. Not even a moan or a creak from the tall pine trees outside. Not even a tinkle from the windchimes hanging from the beam on the deck. Not a sound from the birds or the noisy crickets.
Aisling paused for a few moments looking up at the sky, wondering whether the light was coming from the leftover moon or a very early sun – or maybe a combination of them both. But it didn’t matter, it was light of some kind.
She looked across the lake and wondered if Jameson would be awake and up as he told her he would. If he would be across the lake, sitting in his rocking-chair – waiting for her.
Then, before she had time to wonder any more, she felt her feet start to move and she was running. Off down the garden path, through the trees and flowers, over the little bridge and down to the side of the lake. She slowed down then, and her eyes scanned the front of the house looking for him. But she could see nothing. Nothing to convince her that he found the possibility of her company more desirable than sleep.
Then, her heart suddenly soared as she heard her name called out.
She looked again, and then he appeared – beside the garden swing. A figure in shorts and a brown sweatshirt. And she knew even from this distance that it was the same shade of brown as his eyes.
He waved to her, beckoning her to hurry over.
She felt her feet desperate to break into a run again, but restrained herself. It was bad enough appearing at a man’s house at this hour of the morning, without running hysterically towards him.
She moved into something between a light jog and a quick walk.
But Jameson wasn’t concerned about showing any kind of restraint or control. He was running towards her, and leaping over the white picket fence. And now he was moving at a fair speed around the lakeside path.
As soon as they met, their arms were wrapped around each other, and he was lifting her up and off the ground. “You’ve come!” he said into her hair and neck. “You’ve actually come.”
“I have come,” she told him, laughing with excitement. “And this time, I am sure.”
He halted for a moment, and then held her at arm’s length to look into her eyes.
She nodded – giving her answer to the question he hadn’t yet asked.
Then, he reached down and took her hand in his and they walked silently back to the house, smiling at each other. As they climbed the steps to the open front door, Aisling glanced back to the Harpers’ house. Her mind gave a fleeting thought to her mother and father in Connecticut – oblivious to the fact that their daughter was about to commit adultery. About to jump into bed with a man she had known for a very short time. And about to die with desire if he didn’t ask her.
But there was no asking to be done. Without a word, he led her through the large, airy hallway filled with his paintings. Past the sitting-room that smelled of wild and garden flowers. And past the kitchen that smelt of cinnamon and freshly ground coffee.
He led her straight to the room filled with the dark, beautifully carved, masculine furniture. He led her to the room that held his bed.
When the door had clicked shut after them, he turned towards her. “Are you sure about this?” he said in a low voice. “I don’t want you to regret anything . . .”
There was a bare pause.
“I’m sure,” Aisling whispered. Then she stood up on tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. His beautiful soft, tanned neck. And she kissed him long and deeply, letting him know that she was really sure of what she wanted. When that kiss ended there was a little pause. Then his lips came down hard on hers, and their bodies automatically locked together, each knowing what was to come.
Everything that his fine artistic hands had promised – and everything that Aisling had imagined – was now about to become reality. And she suddenly felt herself tremble as he slowly undid her pink blouse buttons – one by one – and then slipped it from her shoulders.
Her breath came in short gasps as his head bent and he placed the lightest of kisses between her breasts. Then, in an easy, natural way, he reached his hands to undo the clasp on the back of her bra. Then, very gently, he slipped that off too.
He stood back now to look at her. Not far enough back to embarrass her, but far enough to look upon her lightly tanned body.
The body that had completely possessed his mind for the last week.
“You are so – so beautiful,” he told her.
And something in his voice touched somewhere deep in Aisling, and she found herself brimming with confidence – the kind of confidence she had never felt with her husband.
Now she moved towards Jameson. Her trembling hands lifted the sweatshirt up over his tanned, hard chest and then she laughed as she dragged it over his unruly, thick hair.
Then, he drew her close to him, and she could feel the heat from his skin against the cool softness of her naked breasts.
Then it was Aisling who took his hand and led him towards the big, carved wooden bed, where they finished undressing each other between slow and ever-deepening kisses.
Jameson stopped at one point, and his eyes looked deep into hers.
“I want you so much, Aisling – much more than I ever knew a man could want a woman. I’ve wanted you so much, it hurts.” His voice was low “But I need to know you are okay about this . . .”
Aisling put a hand on either side of his handsome, worried-looking face. “Listen, Mr Jameson Carroll,” she told him as though he were one of her pupils, “the only regret I will have – is if this thing doesn’t happen between us.” Her tone was suddenly more serious. “I came over here this morning, because I’m afraid of throwing this wonderful thing away. I’m afraid of never knowing you properly. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened in my life – and I am not going to spend the rest of my life wishing I’d been braver.”
“Oh, Aisling – Aisling Gayle,” he whispered now. “I can’t believe that something this good has happened to me. I never expected to feel this strongly about a woman . . . I
’ve never,
ever
felt it this way before.”
And when he lay her back on the patchwork quilt to move his hands over her body, she felt a hot rush of wanting that she had never experienced before. She marvelled that he had such smooth, fine hands for a man – and not only sensitive hands but a deep and sensitive nature, too. So different from the cold, defensive exterior he had shown when they first met.
He now moved his lips along the same route that his hands had taken, until she felt every single nerve in her body jump to alertness. When his mouth finally found hers again, it was hotter and rougher this time and his tongue was searching. And then she suddenly felt his hardness lower down, moving heavily against her stomach and thighs. And when he finally positioned himself to move within her, Aisling Gayle did not feel or show the slightest resistance.
Her body arched high to meet his until he was deep inside her. And then they moved together in a rhythm so natural and easy that they could have been lovers from a long way back. She felt herself respond with an eagerness she had never thought she was capable of. But then, she had never imagined wanting someone desperately the way her body now wanted him.
And the deep pleasure she had never imagined continued until suddenly her whole body started to soar like one of the rockets in the sky – and Jameson held her there, at a peak she had never known before, for
one ecstatic moment after another.
And then – when he could hold back no longer – he joined her at that pinnacle, pouring every last drop of himself inside her.
For what seemed like an age, there was not a sound in the large white house, apart from their breathing as it eventually slowed down and returned to normal.
Jameson reached a hand to smooth Aisling’s hair and then he gently touched her face. “You realise that I love you? Really,
really
love you?”
His question demanded no answer, no commitment – nothing. It was simply a statement, a fact.
And when Aisling’s eyes met his, there was no need for words to give an answer, for he could see the love shining from them. Instead, she lifted her head from the pillow to once again seek his lips. And then they clung together as though nothing in the world would ever come between them.
* * *
By the time that Thomas had come down for breakfast, his father was teaching Aisling how to make pancakes, American-style – although teaching her in a very light-hearted, messing-about sort of way. Thomas was delighted to see her, and in his innocence, never questioned the fact of having such an early morning visitor. He immediately joined in the spirit of the morning, searching out a selection of syrups and spreads to accompany the pancakes. Then together the three of them sat at the table as though they were used to having breakfast in this way every morning.
“I’ll clear up,” Thomas said, thumbing towards the sink. “You two cooked, so it’s only fair.”
“Okay, buddy,” Jameson said, throwing an arm around his son. “I won’t argue with that! We’ll take our coffee out onto the deck, and leave you solely in charge.”
The boy immediately draped a clean tea-towel over one shoulder, in the fashion of a busy kitchen hand, and set about collecting up the used crockery
When they had settled themselves outside, Jameson turned to Aisling “What about the rest of the day?” he asked anxiously. “Do you have to go back?”
“No problem,” Aisling said with a smile. “I’ve already sorted things out with Jean. She won’t mind what I do for the next few days.”
“Really?” he said, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Does she know about . . .”
Aisling nodded, blushing slightly. “Yes . . . I didn’t really have to tell her. She’d worked it all out by herself.”
“What did she reckon to it?” he said quietly.
Aisling shrugged. “She was very understanding. We talked a lot yesterday about my situation back home and everything . . . and she understands.”
Jameson looked over his shoulder, checking that Thomas was still occupied in the kitchen and then he moved behind Aisling’s wooden deckchair and wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled his face in her neck. “I’m glad we have some real time together. Since meeting you, everything else just seems a waste of time.”
Aisling rested her head on his arms, and they both sat looking over the lake.
“I know I’m a bore saying this again and again,” Jameson whispered, “but I really do love you, Aisling Gayle – with all my heart.”
“And I, Jameson Carroll,” Aisling whispered back, “love you, too. And whatever happens now – happens.”
Chapter 26
Aisling called back over to Harpers’ house later in the morning. Jean was busy pottering around with her indoor plants and Bruce was outside in shorts and a hat, working with the hose in the garden. Each greeted her with smiling faces, telling her that her mother and father had rung to let them know that they were safely in the hands of Declan’s cousin. Then, they offered to drive her to the shops or to sightsee, but she thanked them both and declined. Over another cup of coffee, she told Jean that she had gone across early in the morning to see Jameson.