Night Over Water - Ken Follett [137]
More people drifted off to bed, and now only the cardplayers were left in the main lounge with Margaret and Harry. Margaret was bashful and did not know what to do with herself. She felt so awkward that she said: “It’s getting late. We’d better go to bed.” Why did I say that? she thought; I don’t want to go to bed!
Harry looked disappointed. “I guess I’ll make a move in a minute.”
Margaret stood up. “Thank you so much for your offer of help,” she said.
“Not at all,” he said.
Why are we being so formal? Margaret thought. I don’t want to say good night like this! “Sleep well,” she said.
“You too.”
She turned away, then turned back. “You do mean it, about helping me, don’t you? You won’t let me down.”
His face softened and he gave her a look that was almost loving. “I won’t let you down, Margaret. I promise.”
Suddenly she felt terribly fond of him. On impulse, without thinking about it, she bent down and kissed him. It was a fleeting brush of her lips on his, but she felt desire like an electric shock when they touched. She straightened up immediately, startled by what she had done and the way she felt. For an instant they stared into one another’s eyes. Then she stepped into the next compartment.
She felt weak-kneed. Looking around, she saw that Mr. Membury had taken the top bunk on the port side, leaving the lower one free for Harry. Percy had also taken a top bunk. She got into the one below Percy’s and fastened the curtain.
I kissed him, she thought; and it was nice.
She slid under the covers and turned off the little light. It was just like being in a tent. She felt quite cozy. She could see out of the window, but there was nothing to look at: just clouds and rain. All the same it was exciting. It reminded her of times when she and Elizabeth had been allowed to pitch a tent in the grounds and sleep out, on warm summer nights when they were little girls. She had always felt she would never go to sleep, it was so exciting; but the next thing she knew it would be light, and Cook would be tapping on the canvas and handing in a tray of tea and toast.
She wondered where Elizabeth was now.
Just as she was thinking that, there was a soft tap on her curtain. At first she thought she had imagined it because she was thinking of Cook. Then it came again, a sound like a fingernail, tap, tap, tap. She hesitated, then lifted herself, leaning on her elbow, and pulled the sheet up around her throat.
Tap, tap, tap.
She opened the curtain a fraction and saw Harry.
“What is it?” she hissed, although she thought she knew.
“I want to kiss you again,” he whispered.
She was both pleased and horrified. “Don’t be silly!”
“Please.”
“Go away!”
“No one will see.”
It was an outrageous request, but she was sorely tempted. She remembered the electric tingle of the first kiss and wanted another. Almost involuntarily, she opened the curtain a little more. He put his head through and gave her a pleading look. It was irresistible. She kissed his mouth. He smelled of toothpaste. She intended a quick kiss like the last one, but he had other ideas. He nibbled her lower lip. She found it exciting. She instinctively opened her mouth a fraction, and she felt his tongue brush her lips dryly. Ian had never done that. It was a weird sensation, but nice. Feeling depraved, she put out her own tongue to meet his. He began to breathe heavily. Suddenly Percy moved in the bunk over her head, reminding her of where she was. She felt panicked: how could she do this? She was publicly kissing a man she hardly knew! If Father should see, there would be hell to pay! She broke away, panting. Harry pushed his head in farther, wanting to kiss her again, but she pushed him away.
“Let me in,” he said.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” she hissed. “Please.”
This was impossible. She was not even tempted: she was scared. “No, no, no,” she said.
He looked crestfallen.
She softened. “You’re the nicest man I’ve met for a long time, perhaps ever, but you’re not that nice,” she said. “Go to bed.”
He realized she meant it. He