Princess Dottie, page 4
In minutes they were outside, making their way toward the water. It was quiet along the embankment, and they could hear the soft lap of the water. For a while Dottie had nothing to say, until at last she rested her arms against the stone ledge overlooking the river with a sigh of deep contentment.
“I didn't really mean soaring in an airplane, Dottie,” Randolph said, taking up the thread of their previous conversation. “I meant, inside you.”
“People don't soar in Wenford,” she said with a faint sigh. “It's not a soaring sort of place.”
“But what about the 'faraway' you mentioned? What about the lands of your dreams? Don't you ever have dreams? You've got your café and your garage mechanic, and that's it?”
“You're having a go at poor Mike, aren't you? Look, I know he's not the answer to every maiden's prayer-”
“That depends what you think the maiden was praying for,” he said wryly.
She gave a choke of laughter. “Well, this maiden was praying for someone who was kind and good-natured, and who'd let her look after him.”
“That's what you like? Looking after people?”
“Of course,” she said, sounding surprised, as though it was a matter of course. “It's wonderful to be needed. I used to think-”
“Go on,” he said when she stopped.
“You mustn't laugh.”
“I promise.”
“Well, at first I wanted to be an actress. But then I used to think I'd like to be a children's nurse.”
“Why would I laugh at that?”
“Well, honestly! Me! I'm too dumb. I never passed any exams at school. In fact I never took any. There was just me and Grandpa by then and he was always sick so I bunked off school.”
“But that doesn't mean you're dumb, just caring. If there'd been someone to care for you, you'd have done well.”
“I did have someone to care for me,” she said firmly. “Grandpa loved me. It's just that things got on top of him a bit. Anyway, I couldn't be a nurse. It's not in my stars.”
“You read horoscopes?”
“No, not that sort of stars.” In a sudden expansive gesture she flung a hand up to the night sky. “Fate,” she said dramatically. “Destiny. There's a niche waiting for you somewhere in the world, that only you can fill.”
He'd once thought the same. His niche had been clear, and he was well prepared for it. But then it had turned out not to be his at all. “That's a dangerous doctrine,” he said somberly.
She sighed and went back to gazing over the water. “You're right. It's not good to dream too much. It's better to be a realist.”
“Maybe reality will turn out to be stranger than you think,” he murmured.
She looked at him. “You sound as though that meant something particular.”
“Nothing special,” he said hastily, trying to make his face and voice blank so that his pain wouldn't show. Mostly he kept that pain under stern control, but this disconcerting young woman had touched a nerve.
A cab rumbled by and he hailed it. “Let's go back,” he said.
The lamps were still on in Hanver Park, and as they climbed the broad steps Randolph became aware of something very curious. But for themselves the park was empty, yet the two mime artists were still there, earnestly gesticulating, oblivious to the fact that nobody was watching them. They seemed completely happy in a world of their own, where no audience was needed.
They stopped to watch. The entertainers continued in serene silence, their white faces ghostly under the lamps. After a while Randolph looked away from them, to Dottie.
She was entranced, oblivious to him, her eyes gleaming with the colored lamps, her lips parted in a half smile of delight. He wondered when he'd last been so happily unselfconscious, but he couldn't remember it. Perhaps never.
Dottie's radiant innocence was like a blow to his heart. She was so candid and trusting, so sure the rest of the world was as honest as herself. How could she realize that the man with her was the serpent in Eden, plotting to destroy her happiness? He would take everything away, first the world in which she was at ease, then the lover who meant so much to her. And in their place he offered wealth, grandeur and a kind of power-all of which, Randolph was increasingly convinced, would mean nothing to her.
She looked up at him suddenly. “What's the matter?”
“Nothing. Nothing's the matter.”
“Yes it is. You were thinking about something that made you sad.”
Her shrewdness caught him off guard and for a moment he floundered.
“Is it me?” she asked. “Have I done something wrong?”
“No Dottie,” he said gently. “You've done nothing wrong. You've been delightful, all evening.”
The two artists had stopped miming and were watching them intently, looking from him to her, and back.
“Yeah, well, I gave you a laugh, anyway.”
“More than that,” he said seriously. “I think you're one of the nicest people I've ever known.”
A soft breeze had sprung up, making her hair drift about her face. Randolph couldn't take his eyes from her.
“It's been a lovely, lovely evening,” she sighed. “Like magic.”
“Yes. A kind of magic. That's just what it was.”
Dottie became aware of the anxious gaze from the two white faces. “What's up with you two?”
“I think they want me to kiss you,” Randolph said, and putting his fingers under her chin, he lifted it and bent his head.
He made no attempt to put his arms around her, and his lips barely touched hers. It wasn't passion that she felt in him, but tenderness, a continuation of the enchantment that had pervaded the whole evening. When he lifted his head he saw that she was smiling. He smiled back, then, turning to the two mimes he said, “Thank you.”
Their response was to jump for joy, dancing around Dottie and Randolph. He took some money out and again tried to give it to them. “Won't you let me show my gratitude?”
But, as before, they shook their heads. Then they turned and ran away, hand in hand, until they vanished into the darkness of the trees.
“Why did you thank them?” Dottie asked, speaking as in a dream.
“Because without them I wouldn't have dared to kiss you.”
“I'm glad they wouldn't take money,” Dottie said. “That would have spoiled it somehow.”
“Yes,” he said, in quick appreciation. “It would.”
Dottie didn't say anything, but stood looking at him in unutterable content. This was part of the glory of the whole evening. It was as though time had been suspended for a few hours. Later it would start again and she would become her real self once more. But nothing would be quite the same.
They wandered on out of the park until they reached the hotel, which was in darkness.
“Got your key?” she asked.
“Later. I'm walking you home.”
“It's only two streets away.”
“A gentleman doesn't let a lady walk home alone.”
And the spell could last a little longer, she thought happily. They walked the two streets in silence and stopped outside a shabby brick house, three floors high.
“Good night, Dottie. Thank you for a lovely evening.”
“It should be me thanking you. I've never-” she laughed and sought for words. “I've just never…just never…”
“Never drunk white burgundy?” he said, smiling. “Never eaten nouvelle cuisine?”
“Never talked like that,” she said. “It was nice to fly.”
“Don't you want to keep on flying?”
She shook her head. “But it was nice to do it once.”
“You're so certain that it will never happen again?”
He thought for a moment that she would answer, but then she backed off like someone who'd seen danger. “I've got a real life to live. You can't do that flying.”
“But-”
“I have to go in now,” she said hurriedly. “Good night.” She ran up the short path to the front door.
“Good night,” he said regretfully and turned away. But before he'd gone more than a few steps she called out to him. “Yes?” he said hopefully.
“Don't forget to miss a step as you go into your room. Otherwise you'll hit the wobbly floorboard.”
“I'll remember.”
“Have a good night, and I'll bring you a real English breakfast in the morning.”
“Thank you,” he said, trying to conceal his feelings at the prospect of this treat. “Good night.”
Just before she went to sleep Dottie spoke to a photo of Mike that she kept by her bed. She often did this, and not for the world would she have admitted that it could be more rewarding than talking to the real man.
“It was just a meal-not an actual date or anything-a bit like being taken out when you were a kid. It's not like I fancied him. Well, maybe just a bit…all right, a lot. Okay, Okay, so he kissed me.
And I wouldn't have minded if he'd done it again. But you're the one I love. Honest. Anyway, what were you up to with Bren?”
She turned out the light.
Chapter Three
Thursday was the great day of the week, the day when Dottie finished work early, and met Mike in the park. As two o'clock neared she hurried away from the café, rejoicing in the knowledge that all was right with the world. The sun was shining and heaven, in the shape of a chunky garage mechanic, was just around the corner. The fantasies of the night before were no more than colored dreams, like being taken to the movies. It was easier to think like this because there'd been no sign of Mr. Holsson this morning. She'd done him a good English breakfast, as promised, but had persuaded Jack to take it up.
She entered the little wood that fringed the park, and at first she had to stop and blink as the trees blotted out the light. Then her sight cleared and she realized that she wasn't alone. A man stood leaning against a tree, only half-visible through the slanting sunbeams.
Today he was in slacks and shirt, with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. He didn't see Dottie at first and she was able to study him, trying to recapture the way he'd seemed the previous evening. But in the morning light she saw only a man whose arms were heavy with muscles, and whose torso beneath the light shirt was lean and hard.
Last night he'd kissed her, but only softly, on the lips. He hadn't put those strong arms around her or drawn her against him. Of course it was better that he hadn't, but for a moment her head spun with the thought. Behind the gentleness of his mouth she'd sensed something else, a tension, an urgency, even an anger, that she'd never known before in a man's kiss.
Her experience was limited: overeager boys whose wishes had exceeded their skill, and whom she'd had to put firmly in their place. And Mike, well-meaning and affectionate, always glad to please her.
But now she'd encountered something different, not a boy but a man, with the power to excite her mysteriously. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again something had changed. The sun struck him at an angle that made him seem enclosed in a golden light, and for a moment it was like seeing an apparition; a benevolent apparition that hinted at a glorious future that might tantalize her for a moment before vanishing.
He looked up to where she stood. But although his eyes were fixed on her she had a feeling that it wasn't herself he was looking at, but someone else. The impression was so strong that she turned to look behind her. But then he smiled, and she knew it was just for her.
Randolph had awoken with a strange sensation, as though the new world he'd glimpsed last night was still there, inviting him to enter again, because she was there. She had the gift of spring, he thought, and was startled at himself, because such a poetic thought had never crossed his mind before. All his training urged him to avoid such ideas, but when he saw her again he smiled despite himself.
“Was your breakfast all right?” she asked, coming closer to him. “You didn't eat it all.”
He nearly said frivolously, “That was because you didn't bring it up to me.” But he pulled himself together. He was here on serious business.
“It was excellent,” he said, “but a little more than I normally eat. The tea was-” he hunted for the word, “very strong,” he said at last.
“Round here we say tea's not tea unless you can stand the spoon up in it.”
“So I gathered,” he said with feeling.
It was better to keep the talk light, and so avoid the swirling undercurrents.
“Are you exploring the neighborhood?” she asked as they fell into step.
“No, I was waiting for you.”
The sudden gravity in his voice made Dottie's heart beat faster, as though she was faced with unknown danger.
“I warned you about that floorboard,” she said quickly. “If you want to complain-”
“I have no complaints,” he said, taking hold of her arm to halt her. “There are things we need to talk about. Last night-”
“Last night was lovely but…” she shrugged helplessly, “it was last night. Today I'm me again.”
“And who were you then?”
“I don't know. Someone I'd never met before. Someone who could fly.” Meeting his eyes she saw an understanding that disconcerted her. It was as though he knew everything she would say before she'd thought of it herself. It made her laugh self-consciously. “Whoever she was, it's time she went her way and let me go mine.”
“Was she the one who kissed me?”
“She didn't,” Dottie said, trying to be firm. “It was you… Oh, I don't know anything anymore.”
“I've been a bit confused myself,” he admitted. “But I think it was something like this.”
He leaned swiftly down and laid his mouth over hers. He knew there was danger in it, because springtime was always dangerous to a man who'd never known it before. But his caution had deserted him. He must kiss this one woman or regret the loss all his life.
He'd moved too swiftly for Dottie to prevent him. She instinctively put her hand up, but it merely fell on his shoulder. He almost seemed to be hypnotizing her so that her will died away, and she could do only what he was telling her. Obeying those silent instructions, she failed to protest when he put his hands gently on either side of her face.
She hadn't known that a man's lips against hers could feel like this, tender and coaxing, yet impossible to deny. She had a strange feeling that she was kissing him with all of her, not just her mouth. Certainly all of her was responding, from the top of her head, down the length of her suddenly tingling body, right to her curling toes.
Her hands had become rebellious. They wanted to rove over his body, across the hard muscles of his arms and chest and discover the flatness of his stomach, the power of his thighs. She knew that these things were true about him because the movements of his mouth against hers were silently telling her.
Somewhere in her consciousness doors and windows opened wide, showing vistas of far horizons, stormy seas, endless blue skies. The world was so much bigger than she'd dreamed, and was full of so many unsuspected things. There was exploring to do, and it would take her far beyond the comfortable little world in which she'd planned to contain herself and Mike-
Mike!
The word was like a thunderclap in Dottie's brain. Shocked at herself, she drew sharply back and stared at him. Then she wrenched herself out of Randolph's arms and ran deeper into the wood.
“Dottie!” he called and ran after her. “Don't go, please. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you.”
“No,” she said, turning back to him and managing a shaky laugh. “This is so silly. It's just…just…”
“Spring makes people do silly things,” he said hastily. “I got carried away.”
“You?” she echoed with such naГЇve astonishment that he had no doubt how he looked to her: a man who couldn't let himself be spontaneous. And she was right. When had it last happened? Never before he met her.
“Perhaps it's because I'm a tourist,” he improvised. “People go mad when they travel abroad-”
“And they make other people mad too,” she agreed, frantically rewriting history. She was in love with Mike, so she hadn't kissed this man. At least, she had but she hadn't really enjoyed it-not as much as she thought she had.
“I have to go now,” she said. “It was nice seeing you again but-” suddenly the words came out in a gabble, “I really must go.”
She rushed away without a backward glance, eager to find Mike and the safe, cozy world she knew with him. There was nothing safe or cozy about this stranger. He made her think of lightning and fire, and she needed to get away from him.
Just beyond the trees she found Mike sitting on a wooden bench, munching a sandwich. He was startled out of his contented reverie by Dottie's arms about his neck as she flung herself down beside him.
“Careful, Dot,” he protested. “You'll get peanut butter over me.”
The last words were lost in the most fervent kiss she'd ever given him. He abandoned the sandwich and embraced her back, despite his surprise.
“Have you been taking something?” he demanded when he could breathe.
“Yes, I'm drunk with spring,” she said idiotically. “And I wanted-” she took a deep breath, “the most wonderful kiss in the world.”
“And you reckoned I could give you that?” Mike asked, awed. “Eee, Dot!”
“Of course. Who else? You're the one I love.”
She said this so fiercely that Mike stared at her in alarm. Randolph, a short distance away, behind a tree, couldn't see him clearly, but he could sense the reaction. What did Mike understand of a woman like this? In the few moments it had taken him to brush his mouth against Dottie's he had discovered the banked fires of passion waiting for the one man to bring it forth. And that man wasn't this well meaning oaf, whatever she believed.
Her next words gave him a nasty shock.
“Mike, when are we going to set the date?”
“Whenever you like, Dot. But I thought we decided to wait until we had the deposit for the garage.”
“I've changed my mind. I'm going to snap you up fast, before Bren gets her claws into you.”
