War Cry by Smith Wilbur

Author:Smith, Wilbur [Smith, Wilbur]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2017-03-22T16:00:00+00:00

When Saffron reached him they did not even say hello. He simply told her, ‘We must go. Now!’

She did not ask him why. She already knew the answer, but she did not want to hear it said. She did not even want him to give her his name. That way she could maintain the pretence of ignorance.

When they got outside he asked, ‘Where are you staying?’

‘The Suvretta House.’

He grinned. ‘Me too. Here, I have my car. We can drive back.’

‘Ooh,’ Saffron purred, when she saw the sleek lines of the Mercedes.

‘You like cars?’ he said, opening the doors for her.

‘I like going fast.’

‘Once again … me too.’ He turned his head to smile at her and his face was so handsome that when he looked away to drive the car she felt as though she had been given a wonderful present at Christmas, only to have it snatched away again.

It took less than five minutes to drive through the snowy streets to the hotel, but it was enough for a feeling to build inside Saffron: a combination of desire, frantic impatience – she had an almost desperate need to feel his arms around her and press her body close to his – and apprehension. It was like standing at the top of the Cresta Run. She knew what was going to happen and there was not the slightest possibility of turning back.

She tried to distract herself by watching him drive. He drove fast, but without any sense that he was showing off, for his every movement was calm, precise, always in total control. He was not even close to the limit of his abilities and that sense of his confidence and assurance was both comforting, for it made her feel entirely safe, but also profoundly attractive. He will know exactly what he is doing, even when I don’t, she thought, and longed all the more for that moment to come.

Just as they were arriving at the hotel, he said, ‘I am in Room 424. I will take the stairs. You take the elevator. That way, no one need suspect anything.’

He pulled up outside the entrance and a uniformed doorman opened Saffron’s door. She got out and waited while he tipped the man and handed over his car keys, trying to seem no more than polite, as she would wait for any male friend. Then they walked into the hotel, not even holding hands.

‘Goodnight,’ he said when they reached the lifts.

‘Thank you for a lovely dinner,’ she replied and got in without even giving him a peck on the cheek. ‘Fourth floor, please,’ she said to the operator.

Saffron tried to stay calm and control her breathing, hoping that the young lad with his funny pillbox cap could not tell that her pulse was racing and that the molten heat between her legs was almost more than she could bear.

‘Thank you,’ she said, with a polite, ladylike smile when the lift came to a halt, the operator pulled the metal grating wide and the doors slid open.

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