instantly aware of her stiffening and of the shudder which ran through her.
‘You’re nervous of storms, aren’t you?’ he asked quietly. ‘Don’t be alarmed. You’re perfectly safe in the car.’
‘I know it. I’m sorry.’ Sophie tried to act naturally even though storms had always terrified her. ‘Please go on. What were you going to say?’
Robert glanced sideways at her and there was a curious expression twisting his lips. Then he shook his head and said something entirely unexpected: ‘Who were those soldiers at the station?’
Sophie gasped. ‘No one I knew. I had to stand all the way from Paddington. They shared the same cubbyhole, that’s all.’ A smile came through. ‘They insisted on carrying my cases. I can’t imagine why. Can you?’
Robert’s expression softened slightly. ‘Stop fishing,’ he ordered dryly. Then, as a huge globule of rain splashed against the windscreen: ‘Well, like it or not, here it comes!’
Within seconds they were engulfed in a torrential downpour that even the efficient wipers found difficult to cope with. Lightning streaked across the sky with a brilliance that artificially illuminated the brooding hills, and a deafening crash of thunder seemed almost completely overhead. Sophie’s palms were moist, clasped together in her lap, and she was trying desperately not to give in to the terror which filled her. But suddenly, Robert pulled the car off the road on to a grassy lay-by and releasing his safety belt switched off the engine.
‘It’s pointless going on in this,’ he explained in answer to the silent appeal in her eyes. ‘We’d have to crawl, and it won’t last long. It’s only a summer storm. You should be used to them by now.’
Sophie drew a deep breath. ‘I know. I’m a fool.’ She trembled as she pressed the release catch of her safety belt and turned sideways in her seat towards him, drawing her legs up under her. His profile was unyielding and yet she had to suppress an almost irresistible impulse to stroke her fingers down his cheek. ‘Well, at least it gives us time to talk,’ she said rather breathlessly. ‘You can tell me what you were going to say.’
‘Yes.’ Robert leant forward and picked up a pack of Benson and Hedges, putting a cigarette between his lips almost absently. He flicked his lighter, applied the flame to the tip of the cigarette and leaned back in his seat, inhaling deeply.
After a few moments he turned to look at her, his gaze travelling over her intently. Then he took his cigarette out of his mouth and studied the glowing shreds of tobacco with equal intensity. Another rumble of thunder sent the adrenalin rushing through Sophie’s veins. Robert’s attitude didn’t help. She was aware of the tautness in the atmosphere, and wondered that it was that was hardening his jawline. She looked down at her knees and saw that her twisting movements had loosened two buttons on her blouse which, like all her school clothes, was getting too small for her. With burning cheeks her fingers sped to fasten the offending buttons, but her hands trembled so much that they fumbled over the task. A rising sense of emotionalism brought the tears to the backs of her eyes. What was the matter with her? What was the matter with him? What had happened to that affinity between them?
With a curt exclamation, Robert had grown tired of watching her unsteady ineptitude, and putting his cigarette between his lips he pushed her fingers aside and tackled the buttons himself.
But before he had the time to fasten them it seemed that everything exploded around them. A shaft of lightning struck a tree only a few yards ahead, splitting its trunk without apparent effort. Overhead the thunder was an ear-rending volume of noise, and the violence of the torrent which fell in a great curtain obscuring all but their most immediate surroundings was drowned as the heavens resounded menacingly.
Sophie trembled uncontrollably and with an oath Robert pulled her towards him, putting his arms around her and pressing her close to his hard warm body.
‘Calm down,’ he exlaimed, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and pressing it out in the ashtray. ‘Everything’s going to be all right. Believe me!’
‘I’m sorry, Robert,’ she whispered huskily, her cheek against the rough texture of his shirt. ‘But I hate storms. I’m not pretending. Don’t be angry.’
‘I’m not angry,’ he retorted in exasperated tones, drawing back to look down at her. ‘Here, let me fasten those damn buttons.’
She looked up at him as his fingers busied themselves near her midriff and almost against his will her eyes encountered his. He stared down at her for a long disturbing moment and then she covered his hands with hers, stilling their activity, holding them closely against her.
‘Sophie!’ he protested thickly, trying to pull away, but she held his gaze and reaching up, put her mouth to his. For several agonising moments he resisted, and then his fingers slid beneath her blouse, closing on the firm flesh, propelling her against him with almost desperate urgency. He was trembling now, she could feel it, and his mouth moved on hers, parting her lips, seeking to penetrate the moist sweetness within. Sophie was oblivious to the storm. Her arms were around his neck, touching the smooth skin of his shoulders beneath his shirt, tangling themselves in the thick darkness of the hair on his nape. This was what she had dreamed about—this was where she had longed to be all those months when she had been working at her studies, taking exams, pretending to enjoy the social round of school life. There had been boys there—it was a mixed school. But Sophie’s relationships with boys had remained purely platonic and none of them had aroused the slightest interest in her. Yet she only had to see Robert, to touch him, to feel an aching, melting weakness inside her …
At last he pushed her away from him, breathing heavily, reaching for his cigarettes and lighting one with none of the precision he had exhibited earlier. He inhaled deeply and then, resting his head back, he said: ‘Oh, God!’ in self-derisory tones.
Sophie ran a hand up to her throat and pulled off the tie which seemed so incongruous after what had just occurred. She folded it and thrust it into the pocket of her blazer. Then she fastened her blouse and tucked it back into her skirt before looking at him again.
‘Robert——’ she began, but he shook his head.
‘Don’t say anything,’ he commanded, drawing on the cigarette again. ‘Don’t say anything. Just give me a minute to think straight.’ He exhaled unsteadily. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have allowed your father to persuade me to come and meet you.’
‘To—persuade—you?’ Sophie stared at him. ‘Did you need much—persuasion?’
She sounded hurt and he shook his head impatiently now. ‘No—no, I suppose not. God, Sophie—you’re my sister——’
‘Stepsister,’ she corrected him tautly.
‘All right, all right, my stepsister.’ Robert raked a hand through his hair, staring out at the unceasing curtain of rain. ‘Even so, you know this is—ridiculous!’
‘Ridiculous?’ Sophie felt unsure of her ground. For a few moments she had been confident that everything was going to be all right, but now … ‘Why is it ridiculous?’
‘Don’t be naïve, Sophie!’ He drew savagely on his cigarette. ‘Look, let’s get this into perspective, shall we? You—that is, the last time we—were together was that Christmas a couple of years ago when I’d had—too much to drink——’
‘That’s not true!’
‘It
