The Yuletide Child

Her eyes widened. ‘Red? I’ve never seen a red one; in London we only have grey squirrels.’ She stood staring up the tree; the squirrel peered down at her, its bushy tail flicking to and fro. ‘Will it come if I feed it some nuts? There were squirrels in the park near where I lived which came right up to you and took nuts from your hand.’

‘They were semi-tame—this is a wild squirrel,’ Ross told her. ‘It might run down and snatch nuts if you threw them and stayed back, but it wouldn’t eat out of your hand.’

As they finally left the forest, coming out into the sunlight, she asked him, ‘Have you got any books I could read? On the forest?’

‘I’ll find one for you,’ Ross promised. ‘And this evening, after supper, we’ll take another walk. I’ll show you the moths; they are really something! The forest is very different at night.’

Dylan hoped he didn’t notice the atavistic shudder running through her at the idea of going into the forest in the dark. Smiling bravely, she said, ‘Wonderful, I’ll look forward to that.’ Somehow she had to learn to love the forest for his sake.

They never got very far among the trees that night, though. Before they had gone more than a few steps Dylan felt something scuttle across her face and screamed, frantically brushing her skin to get rid of whatever it was.

Ross had a torch in one hand; he switched it on and turned it on her, blinding her. ‘Stand still. Oh, it’s just a spider.’ He flicked one finger. ‘There, it’s gone. It was a wolf spider.’

Shuddering, she said, ‘A wolf spider? Why is it called that? Does it bite?’

Ross switched off his torch and put both arms round her, pulling her close to him, kissing her hair. ‘Of course not. Are you scared of spiders? There’s no need to be; there are no poisonous spiders in Britain. Wolf spiders hunt their prey instead of just sitting in a web waiting for it. And they eat other insects, not people!’

‘How was I to know that? I’m not up on spiders.’ She tried to laugh, lifting her face, and saw his eyes gleaming in the shadows. ‘Even you seem strange,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t know you out here, in the dark.’

‘Then I’ll have to remind you who I am,’ he murmured thickly, his head coming down.

His mouth blotted out memory. She was lost at once, kissing him back passionately, her knees giving. Sliding her arms around his neck, she held him tightly, pressing closer, her body moulding itself to his.

Ross pulled her down into the long, whispering ferns and grass, the scent of the earth and the pines making her head swim. Without breaking off their kiss, they hurriedly began undressing each other with shaky hands. Dylan buried her flushed, feverish face in his naked chest, groaning with desire, her lips open on his skin.

‘I want you so much.’

‘Not as much as I want you,’ he muttered, sliding on top of her, and her breath exhaled in a strangled gasp as he parted her thighs.

‘Darling...oh, darling...’

Her arms around his back, she caught him between her thighs, arching up to meet that first, deep thrust. The need intensified into a frenzy as they moved together, their bodies totally entwined, riding fiercely towards the same intense pleasure.

Their deep moans of satisfaction floated up between the trees into the dark night sky. Afterwards they lay sleepily on their crushed bed of fern, still closely twined, his arm under her, her leg curled across him, staring up into the shadows where pale moths flitted, glistening with powdered wings.

‘I love your moths,’ she whispered, drowsily wondering how she could ever have felt uncertain about having married him. She had never been so happy in her entire life. It would be wonderful to sleep out here all night, naked in this forest, under the stars and moon, with the scents and sounds of the earth all around them.

Next day he was up at first light while she was still asleep. He woke her with a cup of tea and a slice of buttered toast before he left for work. Drowsily, she blinked up at him, sunlight on her lashes.

He groaned, bending to kiss the warm valley between her breasts. ‘I wish I didn’t have to go to work. You’re far too tempting in that nightie. Even sexier without it, of course.’ He pushed the deep lace neckline aside and buried his face against her breasts. ‘Mmm...you smell of honey and flowers.’

She stroked his dark hair, ran her fingertips into it, caressed the nape of his neck.

‘Get back in bed, Ross, I want you.’ She pulled him down closer and he laughed throatily.

‘I wish I could, believe me—but I can’t. We’re back in the real world and I have a job to do.’ Straightening, he sighed. ‘Got to go, darling. I can’t be sure what time I’ll be back, but there’s plenty of food in the freezer and the fridge. You’ve got my mobile number if you need me. I’ll have to take the car—I’ll need it to get from one part of the forest to another, with all my equipment and tools—but if you want to go into the village it’s only a couple of miles to walk, or you can get a lift there with the postman if he comes today. He often gives people lifts. Then you’ll only have the walk back to face.’

The distance didn’t bother her; she would enjoy a walk. ‘The exercise will be good for me. I don’t want to lose muscle tone. I have to keep supple, and walking is a very good way of doing that.’

‘I’ll help you keep supple—I can think of some very enjoyable exercises to do every night.’

She giggled. ‘I bet you can.’

‘When did you say your brother-in-law was going to deliver that object you call a car up here?’

‘Don’t make fun of my flower wagon! I love it. It may not go very fast but it is reliable, and it’s a thing of beauty! A one-off, unique. People always stare when I go by in it.’

‘I bet they do,’ Ross said curtly.