Moonlight Plains by Barbara Hannay Read Free Book Online

Mates, chums, but they were not lovers. Once, when Andy had tried to cuddle up to her at the theatre, she’d dug him in the ribs with her elbow and told him not to be silly.
    But now . . .
    The poor fellow was going off to fight for King and country.
    He might die.
    Heaven help her, Kitty could actually imagine him being shot. To her horror, she could picture it in vivid detail. She could see the sudden, wide-eyed shock in his eyes; see his sandy head flung back, his mouth gaping in a silent scream, his lanky body crumpling.
    In a rush of sympathy she wound her arms around his neck and she smelled the oil he’d combed into his hair.
    Emboldened, he lunged across the last bit of verandah, taking her with him, making her stumble into the gloom in the corner, till the backs of her knees bumped the cane daybed where her grandmother took her afternoon naps.
    Andy kissed her so passionately now she couldn’t breathe. Her legs caved beneath the pressure of his weight and a heartbeat later she was on her back, with Andy on top of her.
    She felt a flare of panic, but then, unexpectedly, she knew she wasn’t going to put up a fight, and a strangely cool resignation settled over her.
    When his hand slipped beneath her skirt and skimmed her thighs then closed on the elastic of her bloomers, she told herself that many, many girls had done this sort of thing in wartime. It was probably sentimental and selfish to cling to romantic dreams when young men were sacrificing their lives and the whole world was falling apart.
    She tried to think sensibly. ‘Andy, have you got something?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Protection?’
    ‘Yeah. French letter.’ He sounded scared.
    ‘So you planned this?’
    ‘Course.’
    ‘Do you know how to use it?’
    Instead of answering, he kissed her and thrust against her, grinding his hips, and Kitty closed her eyes and told herself over and over that this was terribly important to him.
    He was trembling and breathless as he fumbled with his clothing and she with hers, and she felt like crying when she felt him, hard yet silken, shove blindly between her legs. Was this how it was supposed to be?
    She was grateful for the darkness. It helped her to distance herself from her body. Kitty held her breath, waiting for the pain she knew must come, but then without warning, his violent movements ceased and he collapsed on top of her. Her relief was mingled with surprise and mild disappointment. Had they really done it?
    Was that all it was? So desperate and awkward?
    She was sure it was supposed to hurt more than that. Had he actually been properly all the way inside her?
    She had no chance to find answers to these questions. Beyond the verandah, the front gate squeaked.
    ‘My grandparents!’ Kitty hissed. ‘Get off! Quick!’
    Andy swore softly and Kitty’s heart galloped as she pushed him roughly away and grabbed at her bloomers, yanking them up her legs.
    Already footsteps were coming up the concrete path. Frantically, she smoothed her skirt and fastened her blouse. Beside her, Andy, in a panic, fumbled with his trousers and with his belt.
    The footsteps reached the front steps.
    ‘What in heaven’s name?’
    Her grandfather’s tall frame loomed towards them, topped by a shock of silver hair.
    Andy groaned and turned away, trying to hide the front of his trousers and the belt buckle still hanging loose.
    With a cry of outrage, her grandfather grabbed Andy by the shoulder.
    ‘You bastard, Mathieson!’
    Kitty had never heard her grandfather use such bad language. To her horror, he put his foot in Andy’s back, and propelled him forward. Andy stumbled, almost lost his balance, and had to grab the railing to stop himself from falling.
    ‘Get out of here,’ her grandfather snarled.
    ‘Alex!’ Her grandmother’s voice came from the dark near the steps. Kitty had forgotten she was there too. ‘Alex, please. What would Reverend Johnson think if he heard you?’
    Andy stood his ground, shoulders squared.