Her body was pliant, melding itself to his hardness as she reached up to put her arms around his neck. As his lips touched hers, her eyelids closed. His tongue ran along the soft skin on the inside of her lower lip, and she shivered at the shocking intimacy of it. It was like the first sip of a fine French cognac. Warmth flooded her.
Her heart pounded. His kiss deepened, his tongue tangling with hers, sending sizzles of heat coursing through her veins. His hand cupped her breast. They staggered back, stumbling over the steamer chest, until her back was pressed against the attic wall, directly under the skylight. He slid his hands down, cupping her bottom, lifting her. The rough stone grated on her back as she arched against him, encountering the hard length of his erection through his uniform. He moaned, a low growl that made her spine tingle. And then he dragged his mouth from hers.
For a long moment they stared at each other, eyes glazed with desire, breathing shallow and fast. Then slowly, reluctantly, he released her. As her feet touched the dusty wooden boards of the attic, Flora caught at his sleeve to steady herself. ‘I think the air in no man’s land has rather gone to my head,’ she said.
Geraint laughed softly. ‘I could tell you what it’s done to me, but I suspect you already know.’ His smile faded as his eyes met hers. ‘I didn’t mean to get so carried away.’
‘I ought not to have let you,’ Flora said, realising this very belatedly. Which made her realise that the thought had not occurred to her, any more than it had occurred to her to be embarrassed. On the contrary, what she felt was a kind of elation. This strange, interesting, dangerous man wanted her, and she wanted him. ‘No man’s land,’ she said softly, looking at him with a deliberately teasing smile, ‘is a dangerous but exciting place to be.’
‘You actually kissed him! Oh, my, who would have thought it?’
Sheila and Flora were in what Lady Carmichael termed the garden room, which was in reality an old scullery at the back of the house used mainly for flower arranging. At this time of year it lay empty and quite unoccupied. Outside, a neat row of army tents had been erected amongst which soldiers bustled around, some in full uniform, some minus jackets, in singlets and braces. Unfamiliar accents echoed over the once-peaceful loch. Sporadic bursts of raucous laughter punctuated the Highland air. ‘I don’t know why you look so astonished,’ Flora said. ‘I’ve been kissed before.’
‘Not like that, I’ll bet,’ Sheila replied, grinning. ‘Your Welsh firebrand looks like a man who would know how to kiss. I would kiss him myself if he gave me the chance, but he’s not shown the least bit of interest. To be honest, I find him a bit intimidating. Not exactly stand-offish, but a bit of a loner. I suppose I’m—well, just a wee bit envious.’
‘Are you shocked?’
‘Your ma would be. The man is not even an officer,’ Sheila said in an excellent imitation of her employer.
‘I’m not my mother,’ Flora said.
Sheila raised her brow. ‘Do I hear the sound of a worm turning?’
Outside, one of the soldiers, sitting on a box cleaning his boots, was singing, ‘Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer true.’ Flora turned away from the window. ‘I kissed him because I wanted to. I’ve been wanting to from almost the first moment I set eyes on him,’ she admitted sheepishly. ‘But you’re right, it’s not just that. He’s made me realise that I’ve taken too much for granted.’
‘You just make sure that Corporal Cassell doesn’t take too much for granted,’ Sheila said. ‘You’re from different sides of the fence, you and the corporal. Kiss him, why not, there’s no harm in it, but what I’m trying to say is, be careful, Flora.’
‘You’re making too much of one kiss.’
‘Good. And good for you!’ Sheila rubbed her eyes. ‘I was up till all hours last night sewing my new uniform. I heard in the village that Mrs Oliphant got a telegram yesterday. Her Ronnie is missing.’
‘Oh, no! Oh, the poor woman.’
‘I really hope I’ll get my posting to one of the hospitals soon. News like that, it makes you want to be doing something.’
‘I’ve been thinking again about volunteering myself.’
She expected to receive an approving smile, but Sheila frowned. ‘I’m not so sure. It’s very physical work, Flora, and you’ve no experience.’
‘Nor likely to get any if no one will let me try.’
‘I’m just pointing out the truth. There’s no need to take the huff.’
‘Actually, there is every reason,’ Flora exclaimed. ‘It’s bad enough to know that my parents think I’m useless, but you are supposed to be my friend. Just because I’ve never lit a fire or mopped a floor or ironed a shirt doesn’t mean I can’t learn. You have never washed a wound or applied a splint or given an injection of morphine, but you are pretty certain that you’ll be able to. You haven’t ever seen anything worse than a nosebleed, yet you have every confidence you won’t faint at the sight of blood, and just as much confidence that I will.’
‘Flora! What on earth is the matter with you?’
‘I don’t need to be pampered and cossetted. I’m not a lap dog.’
‘Right now, you’re more like an angry terrier.’
She was forced to laugh. ‘I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed. I thought you would be on my side. I need to be doing something.’
‘You’re managing the requisition.’
‘That will be complete in few weeks.’
‘And then your corporal will probably be sent off to the front, I suppose.’
‘He’s in the service corps.’
‘For now. Didn’t you just tell me that he signed up with the Welsh Fusiliers?’
‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ Flora shuddered. ‘I’m terrified that Alex will lie about his age to enlist. His letters from school are full of talk about the boys from the year above him who have joined up already. And Robbie—it’s probably only a matter of time before he leaves his job and joins up. I don’t want to think of Geraint on the front line, even if it is what he wants.’
‘No point in worrying about it until it happens.’ Sheila smoothed down her apron. ‘I must get on, I’ve a hundred things to do. Look, forget what I said. If you think you’re capable of volunteering, then you volunteer. Better to try and fail than not to try at all, as my mum would say.’
Which was hardly likely to fill her with confidence, Flora thought as the door closed behind her friend. Examining her hands, their white, unblemished state the mark, her mother was forever telling her, of a lady, she felt quite dejected. Perhaps Sheila was right.
Or perhaps not. What was it Geraint had said? You’ve a talent for organising, a talent for creating order. Picking up her notebook, Flora looked at the neat list of tasks, the ticks that were steadily accumulating, and felt a glow of satisfaction. She was making a good job of this. There must be some way of applying her newfound skills elsewhere.
Her eye fell on the last task. Sign off paperwork and complete handover. If they kept to the tight schedule Geraint had set up, that would be in just a few weeks time. Glen Massan House would be a fully operational military training school, and their time in no man’s land would come to an end. ‘Carpe diem,’ Flora muttered to herself. ‘Seize the day. That’s what we’ll all have to do while this dreadful war rages on. And I intend to do just that.’
*