Everything to Gain. Barbara Taylor Bradford

coffee-coloured Persian cat, Miss Petigrew. She had come along at exactly the right time for us, and seemingly so had we for her. She had just separated from her boyfriend, moved out of his house in Sharon, and was staying with friends at their farm near Wonopankook Lake until she found a place of her own. Our remodelled barn and the offer we had made had solved her immediate problems as well as ours.

      As we drew closer, I saw there were lights on in the cottage, but she did not come out to speak to us, and since we never intruded on her in the evenings, unless there was a specific reason to do so, we wandered on in the direction of the biggest of our barns.

      Once we were inside, Andrew turned on the more powerful overhead lights, and walked forward, moving down between the stalls. He petted and nuzzled Blue Boy and Highland Lassie, and spent a few minutes with them, before going to see the ponies, Pippa and Punchinello. But we did not stay with the horses very long and were soon heading back to the house.

      Andrew had not said much on the way down, and he was quiet as we went up the hill. He seemed to be lost in thought, preoccupied, and I decided not to pry or probe. If there was something on his mind, something he wanted to tell me, he would do so in his own good time. He had always shared everything with me from the beginning of our marriage, and had continued to do so, as had I.

      Diana once said that we were each other’s best friend as well as husband and wife and lovers, and this was true. We loved each other on many different levels, and even though Sarah was my dearest girlfriend and Andrew was close to Jack Underwood, he and I were inseparable and spent almost all of our free time together. He was not the kind of man who went off on his own, drinking and carousing with his male companions or following his own pursuits; in many ways he was something of a home body, and certainly a wonderful father, very close to his children.

      Andrew put his arm around my shoulder and drew me closer, and, glancing up at the incredible night sky, he sighed deeply several times. I recognized that these were sighs of contentment, and I was pleased he felt so relaxed and at peace, as I was now that he was back with me and close by my side.

      We lay together, my husband and I, on top of our bed. The room was cool from the air-conditioning, and dimly lit by two small lamps on the bedside tables. But because I had left the curtains open to the night sky, moonlight cast a silvery sheen over everything, bathed the room in a soft radiance.

      Andrew moved closer to me, pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down into my face, moving a strand of hair away as he did. ‘I missed you this week,’ he murmured.

      ‘I missed you too, and I hate it when we quarrel.’

      ‘So do I. But it was merely a small storm in an even smaller teacup. Let’s forget it, shall we, and move on. To more important things.’

      He paused for a moment or two, and, as I looked up at him I saw a reflective expression settle on his face and he seemed to be thinking deeply. Finally, he said, ‘There’s something I want to say … to tell you … how I feel about something.’

      ‘What? What is it?’ I asked quickly, sensing that this was important.

      Leaning closer to me, he said softly, ‘I’d like another child. Wouldn’t you, Mal?’

      ‘Yes. Yes, I would,’ I answered without a moment’s hesitation, thinking how like him it was suddenly to voice an idea I had been turning over in my mind of late.

      I felt him smile against my cheek, and I knew he was happy at my unequivocal and positive response.

      ‘Let me love you,’ he said against my hair, stroking my cheek as he spoke. Then he touched the strap of my nightgown a little impatiently. ‘Take this off, darling. Please.’

      As I pulled the short silk shift up and over my head, and dropped it onto the floor, he slipped out of his pyjamas, and a split second later he was next to me again, taking me in his arms, bending over me intently, seeking my mouth with his.

      He kissed me over and over again, his lips moving from my mouth to each of my eyelids, onto my nose and forehead, and down to nestle in my neck. He stroked my shoulder and my breasts, tenderness in his every movement; then he began to kiss my nipple while his hand slid down onto my inner thigh. An instant later his questing fingers had found the innermost core of me and he caressed me expertly, delicately, and I felt a sudden surge of warmth spreading through me.

      Sighing, I stirred in his arms, arching my body, pressing closer to him, my longing for him paramount in my mind. I put my arms around his neck, and as I did so he began to kiss my mouth again, his passion rising. And I knew that he wanted me as much as I wanted him. It had always been like this between us; our desire for each other had never waned in all the years of our marriage.

      He was ready for me now, just as I was ready for him, and I met his passion with intense ardour, arching up, cleaving to him as he entered me. Instantly, we found our own rhythm, moving against each other with mounting excitement.

      Suddenly, abruptly, Andrew stopped.

      I looked up into his face hovering so close. His hands were braced on either side of me and he was holding his body very still above mine. He stared down at me for the longest time, searching my face.

      His eyes were vividly blue, so blue they almost blinded me, and as we gazed at each other, drowning in each other’s eyes, neither one of us was able to look away. It was as though we were plunging deeply into each other’s souls, merging to become one.

      The silence between us was a palpable thing. He broke it when he said in a voice that was low and thickened by emotion, ‘My wife, my darling wife. I love you, I’ve always loved you and I always will.’

      ‘Oh Andrew, I love you too,’ I breathed. ‘For ever.’ And reaching up, I touched his face, my love for him spilling out of me.

      A faint smile flickered onto his mouth and was instantly gone. He brought his face down to mine, kissing me lightly, tenderly, and we shared a moment of the most profound intimacy.

      Sudden heat flared in me again, took hold of me. ‘I want you,’ I whispered.

      ‘And I want you,’ he answered, and in the pale light I saw the need and urgency in his eyes, the excitement on his face.

      Slowly, gently at first, Andrew began to move once more. His speed increased, as did mine; our movements became almost violent as we spun out of control.

      I closed my eyes, swept along by wave after wave of ecstasy, excited by the things Andrew was whispering to me. We clung to each other, and as I felt that first sharp surge of intense pleasure, I gasped, then called his name.

      Like an echo coming back to me, I heard him crying mine, and we rushed headlong towards a rapturous climax, reaching fulfilment together.

      We had turned out the lights and lay in the darkness, curled up under the quilt, wrapped in each other’s arms. I felt languorous, satiated, after our explosive sexual release, and overwhelmed by the love I felt for Andrew. He was my life, my whole existence. I was so lucky. There was no woman luckier.

      I nestled into him, listening to his even breathing, thankful that it was normal again. During our hectic lovemaking he had started to pant, then gasp, and even after he had collapsed against me, his breathing had been laboured.

      Now I said quietly, ‘Your breathing was so strange, I was worried.’

      ‘Why, darling?’

      ‘For a split second I thought you were having a heart attack.’

      He laughed. ‘Don’t be silly. I was very turned on, overexcited. I thought I was going to explode. If you want the truth, Mal, I couldn’t seem to get enough of you tonight.’

      ‘I’m glad of that,’ I murmured. ‘The feeling’s mutual.’

      ‘I’d rather gathered that.’ He kissed the top of my head. ‘Happy?’

      ‘Deliriously, ecstatically.’ I turned my face, buried it against his chest. ‘You’re the very best.’

      ‘I’d