ANNE WEALE - Sleepless Nights

She could see that although it was he who had brought up the subject, somehow her innocent question had touched him on a raw spot.

Or was it that, despite his seemingly amiable acceptance of her refusal to sleep with him, he was piqued that she wasn’t going to give him another chance to persuade her into bed with him?

Neal signalled to their waiter that he wished for the bill.

‘Please let me pay my share,’ said Sarah, before it arrived.

‘Certainly not You’re my guest,’ he said firmly, the reply accompanied by a smile that made her feel foolish for suggesting it.

Outside the restaurant a hopeful rickshaw driver was eager to be hired but Neal declined his inviting gestures.

‘We’ll walk back, if that’s all right with you,’ he said to Sarah.

‘It’s fine with me. Some exercise would be good after all that delicious food.’

Although it wasn’t late, already the streets were quieter with many shops closed or closing, giving the impression that before long everyone local would have retired for the night.

The byways through which he led her were even quieter. Suddenly, in a poorly lit lane with the brighter lights of a main road about fifty yards ahead, he put a hand on her arm and drew her to a halt.

‘We’re nearly back to your hotel. I’ll see you to the door but say goodnight here.’

Before she realised what he meant, she was in his arms being kissed.

It was a long time since her last kiss and it hadn’t been anything like this. The man had been only a little taller than she was and had spent most of his life in a car or behind a desk. She had not felt herself overpowered, as she did now, by a superior force which, even though it wasn’t trying to subdue her, made her feel disturbingly helpless.

Nor had the other man’s mouth taken possession of hers with the same confident assurance that his kiss would be welcome. He had not been sure of himself. Put off by his lack of confidence, she had pushed him away.

Neal didn’t give her the option of accepting or rejecting his kiss. He held her securely against him, one arm round her waist and his other hand cradling her head while he made it clear to them both that he wanted to make love to her... and knew that she wanted it too but wasn’t ready to admit it.

It was so long since she had experienced such feelings that Sarah had almost forgotten how it felt to be swept away by the overwhelming emotions surging through her body now. She was intensely conscious of the tall, strong frame of the man who was pressing her to him.

She had thought that desire was over for her. That never again would she feel the wild, wanton longings she had once felt, with such disastrous results. But now, long dormant but not dead, they sprang into eager life as she felt the hard wall of his chest against her breasts, and the muscular breadth of his shoulders under her wandering hands.

‘Are you sure you won’t change your mind?’

The question was a husky murmur as he released her lips to explore, with his, the smooth texture of her cheek.

‘Let me go, Neal...please.’

With the flat of her hands, she attempted to make space between them, and, surprisingly, succeeded.

He did as she asked, stepping back and dropping his arms. ‘If you insist...though I can’t think why,’ he said sardonically. ‘It isn’t what you really want. It certainly isn’t what I want.’

She combed her hair with her fingers, trying to ignore the tingling and throbbing inside her. ‘We’re strangers... we’ve only just met. You may not mind that. I do. Attraction isn’t enough for me. I need to know people... trust them...before I—’ She left the sentence unfinished.

‘Trust is instinctive, like attraction,’ he answered. ‘All the important reactions we feel in our bones before our brains get to work. But if you want to postpone the pleasures in store for us, that’s your privilege.’

‘Men can take the pleasures for granted. Women can’t,’ she retorted somewhat tartly, remembering a relationship that hadn’t worked out. She began to move on.

‘I can’t argue with that,’ he said dryly. ‘But I think you know in your bones that it wouldn’t be like that for us.’

‘My bones aren’t always reliable.’

‘Have you had many lovers?’

Like his proposition at the table, the question startled her. In her world people didn’t ask such things. They repressed their curiosity...and much else.

‘Hardly any compared with your tally, I should imagine.’

He caught hold of her hand. ‘What makes you think I’m a womaniser?’

Knowing she wouldn’t be able to disengage her fingers unless he chose to let her, she said crossly, ‘Because that’s the way you come over.’

‘Time isn’t on my side, Sarah,’ he said gently. ‘The slow approach isn’t practical in these circumstances. You’re leaving town the day after tomorrow. By the time you come back, I shan’t have much time left. It will be a month after that before I get back to the UK. Between now and then, anything could happen. My motto is “seize the day”.’

‘Mine is “look before you leap”...especially before you leap into bed with someone.’

‘Are you naturally cautious, or has life made you that way?’

‘Most people get more sensible as they get older.’

How old did he think she was? she wondered. She knew she looked younger than her age because a lot of people expressed surprise when they found out what it was. All the things she had been through hadn’t left their marks on her skin as they did to some women. The ash-blonde look didn’t hide any threads of grey like the colour rinses of some of her stressed-out contemporaries.

‘Were you ever not sensible?’ he asked, on a teasing note.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said, her tone wry. ‘At seventeen I was as crazy as they come.’ Crazy to break free. Madly in love. ‘But that was a long time ago.’

They had come to the gateway to her hotel. Still holding her hand, he came with her to the building’s imposing entrance.

‘If you decide to skip the official programme tomorrow night, you know where to contact me.’

In full view of the uniformed doorman who had already opened the door and was saluting, Neal lifted her hand and brushed a light kiss on the back of it. ‘Goodnight, Sarah. I hope we’ll meet again.’

He said goodnight in Nepali to the doorman before turning and striding away, leaving her staring after him, halftempted to call him back.

But she didn’t and moments later, without looking round, Neal went out of the gate and disappeared.

Sarah spent the free morning before the group’s departure by air to Lukla wandering round town, grappling with the realisation that she didn’t really want to go. She wanted to see Neal again more than she wanted to do the trek. Perhaps she would have felt differently if the others in the group had been more congenial. But they weren’t, and she knew that situation wasn’t going to improve with closer acquaintance.

After a while she went into the garden behind Pilgrims Book House and ordered a pot of jasmine tea. There were not many people there that morning but presently another woman on her own wandered in and sat down not far from Sarah. She looked interesting and Sarah would have liked to start up a conversation but the other woman began writing postcards.

Some time later she rose and hurried in the direction of the lavatories, leaving her pack at the table. Either she was unusually casual about her belongings or her errand was urgent.

While she was gone, more people passed through the garden, either coming from the bookshop or going in by the back way. Sarah kept an eye on the pack. Perhaps there wasn’t a high risk that an opportunist thief would steal it, but such things did happen.