Read The Guilty Secret for Free Online Page A

my shoulder and mine around his waist, we made our way slowly, and both slightly stunned at the suddenness with which love had overtaken us, to the car.

Chapter Five
    That evening when I entered the dining-room, Manuel hurried over to me, a knowledgeable smile on his friendly face. Gently he directed me not to my own table, but to Jonathan’s. As Manuel left with our orders I said:-
    â€˜You realize you’ve wrecked my reputation!’
    â€˜In the eyes of the waiters your reputation was wrecked the minute you stepped into my car. And don’t think they don’t know. I could practically see the receptionist dashing off with the news as we left! Sitting at separate tables would fool nobody!’
    â€˜Then I’m glad my reputation has gone to the winds. Eating together is far nicer than eating alone.’
    â€˜It certainly is.’ His hand closed firmly over mine, sending my flesh tingling.
    After we had returned to the hotel from our trip to Valenca I had spent a thoughtful hour in the bath. Although there had been many men who had said they were in love with me, and with whom I had even felt slightly in love in return, I had never before experienced the bodily reactions I had that afternoon when Jonathan had kissed me so passionately. He hadn’t repeated it. As we parted to go to our own rooms to change for dinner his kiss had been warm and stirring, but the blaze of passion he had shown earlier had either died or been held in check. By the look in his eyes I knew that it hadn’t died. What had happened had been as much of a surprise to him as it had to me. Love had been the last thing Jonathan had expected to find on his travels through Spain and Portugal. He was like a tiger on a lead. Again I felt the stirring of excitement deep within me. How long would it be before the tiger broke the self imposed lead and passion flared so nakedly again? And what would I do when it did? So far I had remained a virgin. Something Rozalinda found highly amusing. But previously the temptation had never been strong enough for me to put behind me the strict moral teaching with which Aunt Harriet had brought me up. It was now. Slowly I towelled myself dry. One thing at least was clear. I would never marry Phil.
    â€˜It’s market day tomorrow at Barcelos. Do you fancy going?’ Jonathan was asking.
    â€˜Oh yes, I’d love to.’ If he’d asked if I wanted to go to the moon I would have agreed.
    â€˜And just where have your thoughts been for the last ten minutes? I’ve already asked if you’d like to go to Oporto, Braga, or Ponte de Barca and all without an answer.’
    â€˜Someday,’ I said blushing, ‘I might just tell you!’
    After dinner we strolled hand in hand onto the terrace, making our way leisurely down the moss covered steps that led into the mimosa scented trees. One huge oak soared above the rest, and beneath it was a wooden bench. We sat down, leaning against the trunk of the tree. Below us the leaves and branches soughed in the gentle night breeze and from far below us came the distant roar of the Atlantic swell, the crest of the waves ghostly white in the darkness.
    Tenderly he pulled me closer, raising my face to his, his lips seeking mine. Again there was warmth and desire in his kiss. But there was also restraint. I wondered why. There seemed to be only one explanation. I asked, scarcely breathing:-
    â€˜Jonathan. Are you married?’
    I felt his body stiffen against mine, and then he said:-
    â€˜No. Not now.’
    The inflection in his voice was enough to prevent me from probing further. Whoever his wife had been she had certainly left deep scars. Scars that were not yet fully healed. But then, I thought to myself, nestling into his shoulder, I was a nurse. A good nurse could achieve amazing results in a week. Especially if her heart was in it.
    At the Barcelos market the next day Jonathan bought me a garish, over-sized pottery cockerel