Nothing could have prepared him for this moment, nothing in his wildest dreams. She eased her body down to lie on the warming rock, holding out her arms for him to lie beside her. Without a word, he obeyed.
The kiss took his breath away. It was sweet, but it was hungry, and he felt such a surge of emotion that his body shook. She stroked his face, planting delicate kisses on his cheek and neck, her lips tracing his ears, till he felt such ecstasy he let out a moan. Max would never have considered approaching this girl-woman, he was far too shy. But, wrapped in her arms, it was as if he had always known her. He wanted the moment never to end. But it did, as abruptly as it had begun.
‘I must go back,’ she announced suddenly, and rolled away from him. She was up and running before he could reach out to stop her. All he could do was watch her disappear from his sight. Then he started to cry. He didn’t know why: it had just been too much for him.
Max saw her fleetingly again that morning, first at breakfast then down by the jetty. He flushed deeply every time she passed within touching range, afraid she would discover he was following her. His legs shook and his heart beat so rapidly he felt sick. But he thought he had managed to appear in control of himself. After lunch they spoke again. Laura had dropped a hair slide as she passed him on her way to the pool. At first Max had simply wanted to keep it as a reminder of her, but then he plucked up courage to approach her. Just the touch of her fingers against his hand, as she thanked him, rendered him incapable of saying a word. She did not refer to the sunrise and he could not bring himself to mention it. She was, after all, Sir William Benedict’s fiancée. He even questioned whether it had happened at all. But he knew it had, and now, speechless before her, it was all that filled his mind.
‘You have beautiful clear eyes,’ she said softly. He wanted to say something poetic in return, but she walked on.
There were four or five more fleeting meetings that day. At last he stuttered that he had hoped she didn’t feel he was stalking her. She leaned closer. ‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’
‘Nothing,’ he replied, as his breath caught in his chest. To his astonishment and consuming delight, she suggested they walk a while. They went down to the jetty, and twice her shoulder brushed against his. There was one glorious moment when she asked him to hold her hand as she slipped off one of her sandals to shake out the sand. Her closeness made him break out in a sweat and her hand felt cool and soft, like silk.
Over the next few nights, Max could not sleep. All he could think of was Laura, but she did not appear again to greet the sunrise. The dining-room meals became the focus of his day because he knew he would see her there. He tried hard to not make his adoration obvious, but he could hardly contain himself, glancing clumsily in her direction. He started to make elaborate plans for accidentally meeting her and what he would say. But, try as he might, he could never pin down her whereabouts. She never dined at the same time in the evenings, never swam or walked at any specific time. He spent hours hovering round the places he hoped she might be, sometimes sitting in the dining room for hours. Mostly she didn’t appear to notice him.
The meeting that changed everything was when she asked him to help her open a sunshade. They were on the lower beach. He fixed it, then fetched an armful of towels and laid them out along a sun-bed. Laura was wearing a white cotton kaftan, and at certain angles the sunlight shone straight through it to outline her body like a soft shadow. He wanted to kneel at her feet, to kiss each toe, to tell her he was her slave. At one point their eyes met and he was sure she was going to say something to him. With an encouraging smile, she patted the towel beside her. But as she lay back against the cushions, his mother appeared. ‘Hello, darling. Get me some towels, would you? And move a bed into the sun for me. Is there a bar down here? I’m so thirsty.’
Max fetched and carried for his mother, who kept up a constant embarrassing chatter about why he wasn’t swimming or waterskiing. ‘Take your shirt off, darling, you need some sun. Your back hasn’t broken out in spots again, has it?’
He wanted to die and he shook his head, trying to make the Baroness change the subject, but it got worse as she continued her conversation to Laura with her eyes closed. ‘Poor boy, he’s got such delicate skin. But, then, they all have acne at that age, don’t they? It’s ever since he started shaving. At least his face has cleared up. He used to get terrible boils and—’
‘Mother!’ hissed Max, his face crimson.
Laura got up suddenly, and excused himself, saying she had forgotten her book.
‘Are you coming back?’ Max asked. He had sounded so desperate and what made it worse was she didn’t look at him, just continued walking towards the path.
‘Not very friendly, is she?’ his mother said, plastering herself in oil.
Before Max could hurry after Laura she insisted he did her back. He hated doing this. She took off her bikini top and lay face-down on the towels for him to spread the oil over her.
‘She’s really rather rude,’ the Baroness continued.
‘There’s her book under the sun-lounger,’ Max said, with delight. His mother looked up as he bent down to retrieve it. It was a volume of children’s poems. He wanted to kiss it. ‘I’ll take it to her.’
‘Oh, don’t bother, darling, leave it. I’ll take it back to the house.’
But Max was already hurrying after Laura. Out of sight of his mother, he opened the book. He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw that a note was tucked into the first page with his name on it. At first he was sure it was a joke, but why would she do that? Then he wanted to weep when he understood that she had suggested they meet by the waterfall. It had to be real.
Max waited for more than an hour past the appointed time. He had almost given up when she came into sight. His heart lurched. The note had said lunchtime, which he had taken as twelve, but she clearly thought lunch was at two. Laura was welcome to take lunch at whatever time she pleased.
Max stepped behind the rushing curtain of water to hide as she approached. She wore a wide straw hat, the same long, white kaftan, and she had threaded flowers through her toes.
‘Max,’ she said softly, ‘I know you’re here.’ She removed the hat and her hair tumbled down. Slowly, she began to raise her skirt, lifting it to her knees, then her thighs. Hardly able to breathe, Max watched as the white robe inched slowly up her body. Beneath it, she was naked. Like a nymph, she stepped into the cascade of water, holding out her arms to catch the stream, her head tilted back and the water rushing off her. ‘Take off your clothes and come and join me. Don’t be shy. No one will see us here.’
Max hastily tore off his clothes and walked towards her into the clear, thundering water. Slowly her hand reached out for him. She drew him into the recess cut into the rock behind the screen of spray, and cupped his face in her hands to look into his wide, fearful eyes. ‘It’s all right,’ she whispered.
His fear evaporated as their bodies inched closer. ‘I love you,’ he said, aching to kiss her.
His look of adoration frightened Laura: he reminded her of Justin as a boy. She searched his face, trying to fathom whether he was lying to her, but she saw there only innocence.
To her surprise, when their lips touched she was not thinking of anything or anyone but him. The experience confused her, and she broke away. Then her eyes concentrated on his lips, which she kissed again, as if to make sure the moment between them was real. After kissing him three times she broke away. Max was overcome with emotion and began to cry. She licked his tears as they mingled with the mist from the waterfall, and thought she too might weep. It puzzled her. This was a job, but it felt like something else. She had teased the boy for days, drawing him behind her like a puppy. She had meant to arouse him, play with him then withdraw. But something inexplicable had stopped her. She had never felt this for anyone except Justin. Was that why his kisses felt so nice? They were like Justin’s, but they weren’t. The feel of them made her want to continue kissing, but she wanted to kiss him as a boy, not as a man.