‘Well, for starters, someone who isn’t interested in cock.’ Johan smirked, and Opal rolled her eyes.
‘Everything’s a joke to you, isn’t it.’
‘That’s not true.’ For a second, Johan looked almost hurt. ‘For one thing I seem to be the only person around here taking their art seriously.’
Opal had to concede that point. For the third challenge in particular, she’d hardly seen any of the others spend much time creating anything. Even Heather, who was usually most diligent, had only spent the last couple of nights in her studio. Johan by contrast was forever roaming the grounds snapping photos and lugging large vats of chemical development to his makeshift darkroom.
Opal tried to change the subject. ‘So why exactly can’t you use Ruby as a subject?’
Johan looked down at his hands. ‘Whatever was going on between us … it’s not going on anymore.’
‘Oh, what happened?’ Despite herself, Opal was curious.
‘She seems to have succumbed to the same fate as Noah.’
Opal was confused, and so Johan clarified. ‘She’s sleeping in Heather’s bedroom every night.’
The revelation made Opal feel completely out of touch for the second time that evening. All this fluidity … had it changed so much in the decade that separated her from her guests? When she was their age she’d known gay people, mostly through Gareth of course, but they had always seemed so set in their ways.
As far as Opal understood things, it certainly wasn’t something they were influenced into like a passing fashion trend; in fact it was on this point of disagreement that Opal had stopped voting for Mrs Thatcher.
‘I must admit that I’m surprised by that. Didn’t you and Ruby … make love? It certainly sounded that way?’ Opal just had to know.
‘I don’t think you could describe it as making love.’ Johan chuckled. ‘But we had … relations of a sexual nature, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘Right, well, I’m learning a lot about life this evening. I suppose you never really know how sheltered you are until someone pushes you out into the rain.’
Johan shuffled his chair closer, and his gaze darkened. ‘But that’s what you want, isn’t it?’
Opal nodded, but she couldn’t get any words out. She felt the hairs on her neck stand on end.
Johan leant in, his breath hot in her ear. ‘And you want the rain to make you soaking wet?’
Opal’s breathing quickened, and she replayed the last few minutes in her head, which was spinning too much to makeany sense of how she’d ended up in this position. Johan’s legs encasing her bare knees, his stubble brushing her cheek, his hand slowly inching up her thigh.
She didn’t resist when he reached the lace trim of her underwear, or when his thumb hooked the fine satin fabric to the side and left her exposed. She let him snake his other hand between her legs, even spreading them slightly to allow him better access.
When he strummed his fingers over her, she gasped, and he groaned into her neck before reaching inside her. ‘Look at that,’ he murmured, ‘you’re already sodden.’
Opal had to bring her hand to her mouth to try and stifle her moans. He played with her, at some points softly, and at others reaching deeper to tease out her pleasure. Opal braced herself, throwing her head back.
The crash of the tray hitting the hardwood floor shocked Opal back into herself. Her back was to the kitchen door, but she immediately understood what was happening. How had she forgotten that Hetty was still in the house, and in the room next door no less? Johan, as ever, seemed to find the whole scenario amusing.
He leant back casually, sliding his fingers out of her as he went. Opal gasped at the suddenness of his exit, and then tried to disguise it with a theatrical coughing fit. It was no use. Opal was sure that Hetty had seen something untoward going on, or at least deduced it. Opal had never seen her drop a single thing in the two summers that she’d worked in the house.
‘Hetty, don’t worry about all that; we’ll clear the plates ourselves. Why don’t you head home?’ Johan called over Opal’s shoulder, and the sound of her ‘coughing’.
Opal wasn’t so distracted as not to notice how comfortable Johan was in the role of directing the staff, how naturally he took to being ‘master of the house’. Had it been in any other circumstance, it might have irked her. As it stood, she was grateful not to have to turn around and address Hetty herself. She was even more grateful when she heard Hetty’s hasty retreat.
‘Personally, I think the plates can wait until morning.’ Johan was staring at her again, his voice full of intent.
Chapter 45
He hadn’t gone to dinner with the intention of seducing Opal. But then he had been a little disappointed when Adam and his toyboy had come to the table. He’d taken a back seat in conversation, something he was having to become more and more accustomed to, but it had given him the time to admire Opal. When he had arrived, he’d been so concerned with keeping up his pretence that he hadn’t given his host the consideration she deserved.
His father had once described his aunt as a handsome woman, and he remembered how upset it had made his mother. At the time, he hadn’t understood why. His mother was far from handsome. She was slender, petite and pretty in the most conventional of ways. Handsome sounded like a veiled insult to Johan’s young ears.
As he admired Opal that night, though, it was that word that came to mind. It was what he had been reaching to capture each time his camera was drawn to her face, and he couldn’t quite articulate the exact quality of it. Handsome. She had a strong jaw, her eyes were a little deeply set and her nose would be best described as sculptural. Wide at the base and tapering not into a point, but rather a tiny flat ledge. Her irises were adazzlingly warm shade of amber, in startling contrast to the cooler tone of her strawberry blonde hair, which she wore to a sensible shoulder length.
