love, the General would not be angry. But I'm not sure I can control myself for much longer. You're far too beautiful for me to be trusted with you alone. You don't know how lucky you are that I haven't just leapt across the table and grabbed you.” She laughed at the picture he painted and leaned her head happily against him.
“Is that what you've been planning to do, Captain?”
“No. But I'd like to.” They were both perfectly relaxed as he stroked her long red hair. “I'd like to do a lot of things with you … go to the south of France after the war … and Italy … have you ever been there?” She shook her head and closed her eyes. It was all so dreamlike just being with him.
“I think we should go” he repeated softly, and the room seemed very still. ‘I'll go change. I won't be a minute.” But he seemed to take forever, as she strolled quietly through the elegant rooms on the main floor, and then suddenly, feeling mischievous, she decided to wander up the marble staircase and see if she could find him.
There were several more sitting rooms on the second floor, a handsome library filled with books in both French and English, several closed doors, and then in the distance she heard him. He was singing to himself as he changed, and she smiled, unable to keep away from him, even for a few minutes.
“Hello? …” she called out, but he didn't hear her, there was water running in the bathroom, and when he went back to the bedroom she was standing there, like a fawn standing very still in the forest. He was wearing his trousers and his chest was bare. He had decided to shave again quickly before taking her out to dinner. He had a towel in his hands and his face was still damp, as he looked at her in sudden amazement.
“What are you doing up here?” He seemed almost afraid, of himself, but not of lovely Zoya.
“I was lonely downstairs without you.” She walked slowly toward him, feeling a magnetic force she had never felt before. It was as though without any will of her own, she was irreversibly pulled to him. He dropped the towel at his feet and pulled her close to him, kissing her face and her eyes and her lips, tasting the sweetness of her skin until it made him dizzy.
“Go downstairs, Zoya.” His voice was hoarse and he wanted to pull her away but he couldn't make himself do it. “Please….” She looked up at him so sadly, almost hurt, but not afraid.
“I don't want to …”
“Zoya, please …” But he only kissed her again and again, as he felt her heart next to his chest beating wildly.
“Clayton, I love you….”
“I love you too.” And finally, painfully, he peeled himself from her. “You shouldn't have come up here, silly girl.” He tried to make light of it as he pulled away, and turned to get a shirt out of the closet, but when he turned, she was still standing there, and the shirt dropped from his hands as he came toward her. “I can't stand this for much longer, little one.” She was driving him mad with her youth and her sensual beauty. “Zoya, I would never forgive myself if …”
“If what?” The girl was gone, and she stood before him, fully a woman. “If you loved me? What difference does it make, Clayton? There is no future anymore … there is only now. There is no tomorrow.” It was the hardest lesson she had learned in the past year. And she knew how much she loved him. “I love you.” She was so small and proud and strong, it tore at his heart seeing the look in her eyes that told him she did not fear him, she only loved him.
“You don't know what you're doing.” He had his arms around her again and was cradling her like a child. “I don't want to hurt you.”
“You couldn't … I love you too much … you will never hurt me.”
And then he could no longer find the words to convince her to go away. He wanted her too much, had ached for her for too long. His mouth overcame hers, and without thinking he let his hands peel away her clothes and he gently carried her to the bed and held her and stroked her and kissed her as she kissed