Sally could feel herself starting to tremble, caught up in the magnetism of his personality, aware suddenly and sharply of just how strong-willed he must be. A man who could impose this degree of perfection on nature had to be ruthless… She shivered again, not liking the sensation the word conjured up. It suggested someone with an implacable ego, a determination to enforce his own will on everyone and everything around him, a selfishness… and Kenneth was none of those things.
They had tea in the immaculate, austere sitting-room, where Sally felt too nervous to do more than sip at the clear pale liquid Kenneth had served her. Even the cups were plain and white, eggshell-thin and so fragile that she was terrified of even holding them.
‘Oh, by the way,’ she heard Kenneth telling Clifford, ‘I didn’t realise that Slater Hobbs was an old friend of yours. I happened to mention that I had met you and he told me that the two of you had met over the debating table in your younger days. He suggested that if you had time you might like to call in on him in his rooms before you leave…?’
Sally had no idea who Slater Hobbs was, but he must be someone important, to judge from Clifford’s expression.
‘I’d like to call and see him,’ Clifford began cautiously, ‘but——’
‘Oh, don’t worry about Sally,’ Kenneth interrupted him. ‘I’ve got an appointment at the hospital for a check-up, as it happens, and I’d be delighted to give her a lift back to town…’
‘Oh, no, we couldn’t let you do that——’ Daphne was saying, but for once Clifford overruled her, interrupting her to say enthusiastically,
‘Well, if you’re sure it wouldn’t be any trouble… You remember Slater, Daphne,’ he added, turning to his wife. ‘I introduced you to him at one of the Head’s social evenings. He’s head of the university’s maths department now, I understand.’
‘Yes… a very influential post, of course, but then you’ll already kn
ow that…’
Both Kenneth’s voice and manner were casually calm, but Sally wasn’t deceived. This Slater Hobbs, whoever he was, was obviously very important to Clifford, and she suspected this invitation to call and see him had not come about by any idle chance but had been deliberately contrived by Kenneth—so that they could be alone?
Half an hour later, when her sister and brother-in-law had gone, she voiced her suspicions to him. Kenneth laughed.
‘You credit me with rather more influence than I possess, I’m afraid… Who am I, a mere lecturer, to the likes of a senior chair…?’
Sally looked at him uncertainly. There was an acid edge to his voice which made her suddenly realise that there was a lot about him that she didn’t know.
‘So, now that we’re alone, what do you think of my home…? Do you think you could be happy here?’
He said it indulgently, like an adult teasing a child, sure already of her answer, but Sally was uncomfortably aware that, beautiful though the house was, it didn’t feel like a home.
She could not imagine either of her children living here, for instance.
Rather than lie to him, she changed the subject, saying quickly, ‘Your sons—I thought you’d have had photographs of them somewhere…’
‘Photographs? What on earth for? The last thing I need is to be reminded——’ He broke off, seeing her face, adding more gentiy, ‘You’re far too sentimental, do you know that? I shall have to teach you better,’ he added lightly. ‘And, speaking of sentiment, you know, don’t you, that things can’t go on much longer as they are? I want you here with me, Sally, where I can look after you instead of knowing that you’re slaving away looking after that unappreciative husband of yours. Have you any idea how it makes me feel, knowing that you’re with him when I want you so much? Leave him, my darling; he isn’t worthy of you. He doesn’t appreciate you…’
‘I can’t leave him just like that,’ Sally protested huskily. ‘And the children…’
Try as she might she could not imagine their living here… or Kenneth wanting them to live here?
Quickly she dismissed the thought and the panic that came with it.
‘Please don’t rush me, Kenneth. I need time… Joel and the children need me and…’
‘Do they?’ Kenneth questioned her softly. ‘Or are they just using you? Look at me, Sally,’ he commanded.
Uncertainly she did so. What he had just said to her had touched a too painful nerve.
‘I need you,’ he told her fiercely. ‘I need you… not them.’
For a moment Sally thought he was going to take hold of her and kiss her, but although his hands did cup her face he almost immediately released her.
‘No,’ he told her thickly. ‘Not now… not yet…’
Sally felt his hands tremble slightly as he held her and a sharp frisson of corresponding excitement flared through her own body. It was a wonderful feeling, knowing how much he wanted her and knowing at the same time that he was prepared to control that wanting for her sake… to put her first.
It wouldn’t be long now, Kenneth promised himself as he looked down into Sally’s upturned face and saw her expression. And the first thing he intended to do was to teach her how to dress properly. The first time he took her to bed, she would be wearing a soft flowing nightdress in pure natural silk, or perhaps fine unbleached cotton. He hoped she wasn’t the kind of woman who had a lot of body hair. He remembered with a sharp sense of revulsion how his ex-wife had almost taken delight in flaunting the dark thatch of thick, coarse curls that grew between her legs, angrily refusing his hints that she ought to remove it.