Matter of Trust

‘Please. Marsh.’

His touch was careful, clinical almost, the silence thick with tension. She could see the pain and regret in his eyes as he slowly removed her clothes, his movements almost leaden and unwilling.

This wasn’t what she wanted, Debra realised helplessly. This wasn’t how it should be between them. Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered the way he had first made love to her.

‘Marsh, what is it?’ she demanded in anguish. ‘Don’t you want me?’

‘Not want you?’ He caught hold of her, pulling her against his body so that she could feel his arousal.

‘Of course I want you, but don’t you think I know how you must feel? How you must dread...?’ He swallowed, his throat working, his hands clenched at his sides as he released her.

‘What I feel is that I want you,’ Debra told him unsteadily. ‘I want to touch you, to look at you; to feel your skin against mine. What I feel is that I ache inside for you; that my breasts ache for the touch of your hands and your mouth, that my hands ache to touch you. What I feel is that I love you.’

He moved then, holding her, his hands cupping her face, sliding into her hair while he kissed her, starved, famished kisses that burned her skin and made her cling helplessly to him, tugging his shirt free of his trousers so that she could slide her hands over his skin.

He tried to be careful, cautious, but she wouldn’t let him, swamping his restraint with her own passion; with the tender touch of her hands on his body, with her mouth, until he cried out in torment and reached for her.

She kept her eyes open, absorbing with pleasure the contrast of his darker flesh against her own; the way their bodies fitted so perfectly together, the way the sun dappled their skin, loving the way the scent of their loving filled her senses.

She cried out as she climaxed, straining to hold on to him, to absorb every smallest sensation of pleasure. His sweat soaked her skin, dampening her fringe and misting her eyes, so that the softly painted wardrobes were a warm peach haze.

Deliberately she focused on them, projecting against them her mental images of their entwined bodies, of their personal and private joy.

‘I love you...I love you so much,’ Marsh groaned.

She smiled as he kissed her, and then whispered in his ear, ‘I love you too.’

She knew she would never forget what Kevin Riley had done, but she knew now that she would never be haunted by it either.

Here in Marsh’s arms she had found the truth; had seen, felt... heard... known just how much he loved her.

He was right, she had been a coward. Afraid of loving and of being loved, but she wasn’t any more.

‘Are you sure you’re feeling all right?’ he asked her anxiously now as he held her. ‘This room... the memories...’

She shook her head, touching her fingers to his jaw, and then kissing him.

‘The bad memories are gone,’ she told him truthfully. ‘In future whenever I think of this house, this room, I shall think of you and me together here, of you wanting me... loving me.’

‘Mm...’ Lazily he stroked the curve of her throat with his tongue and then gently bit her.

‘Still, it wouldn’t do any harm just to make sure, would it?’ he suggested throatily.

Debra looked at him and then flushed, her eyes brilliant with laughter and desire as she realised what he meant.

‘Again... Are you sure you’ve got the.. .energy?’ she teased him, her fingertips stroking through the soft hair on his chest, loving the feel of it against her skin, her whole body unknowingly provocatively languorous.

‘Oh, yes, I’ve definitely got the energy,’ Marsh told her softly. ‘Very definitely!’

‘When I grow up I’m going to marry someone like Marsh.’

Bryony gazed scornfully at her younger sister. ‘You don’t know who you’re going to marry,’ she told her, adding, ‘You might not even get married.’

‘Yes, I will,’ Sally retaliated quickly. ‘And I’m going to have a dress just like Debra’s.’

Both of them looked across to where their aunt was standing with her new husband. They were so engrossed in one another that they might have been alone rather than surrounded by family and friends.

‘Happy?’ Marsh asked, kissing Debra. ‘No dark memories?’