A World Apart by Peter McAra Page A

marvelled at Harry’s slowness in showing the behaviours that grow with men’s bodies as they reach manhood — the surge of hot blood that turns some men into rutting male animals overnight. She’d seen such happenings all her life; seen village boys growtall, sprout beards, fight, brag, flaunt their strength, court maidens they’d scorned all through childhood.
    Now, in the languid heat of the summer afternoon, she watched Harry’s member grow rigid. He had led with the interesting question of making children. She watched his eyes lock onto the triangle of golden curls that had lately blossomed between her thighs. She smiled to herself. Could this be his manhood’s awakening?
    A hot wind surged round them, a miniature tornado. Then it died to a pregnant stillness. He smiled at her, and she melted. In his eyes she saw the love that had lately burst into the open on another languid summer afternoon. But now the glow in those eyes seemed even more alive, more overpowering, than ever before. He stretched himself at full-length on the ground beside her. His eyes beckoned her to lie beside him. Then he lay silent, looking up into the blue sky. A balmy quiet settled over them like a softly draped blanket, making her body relax.
    â€˜I’m going to take a swim,’ he said. ‘It’s too hot to do aught else.’ In moments, he stood before her, grinning. Now the sight of his body arrested her. She took in the mat of fuzzy dark hair that now covered his chest. His stomach muscles clenched as he moved. His shoulders seemed to have broadened by inches. He fired another quick grin at her, then dived into the water. She caught her breath in sympathy the moment the chill of the water hit his nakedness. He surfaced a few yards from the shore, and waved.
    â€˜You must, must join me, Eliza. The water’s perfect.’ She turned away. ‘Come on, girl.’
    She stood, watching his body turn rigid as she moved. Then, as his eyes widened, she threw herself into the water, laughing. It was as if they were children. They dived, splashed, caught each other by the ankles, swam between each other’s legs. A hundred times he took her on his shoulders, then threw her into the water as she screamed with laughter.
    After what seemed like an hour of childish fun, he left the water and lay on the bank. She joined him. The sun had all but fled the sky. How long had they frolicked, oblivious of all else but each other? The air was warm. They lay close.
    â€˜What are you thinking, Eliza?’ His voice wafted by her ear. She struggled to find a thought, any thought, that would distract her from the naked man beside her.
    â€˜You may not believe this,’ she murmured. ‘I was thinking of that scene from The Odyssey Mr Harcourt gave us to read. Where Nausicaa and Ulysses meet by the lake one afternoon. Perhaps you know it?’
    â€˜How could I forget?’ he said. ‘The story of two lovers, was it not?’ He paused. ‘Ah, yes. Nausicaa discovers Ullysses, naked and wounded, as she prepares to swim in a hidden pool in the marshes?’
    â€˜Yes,’ she said.
    â€˜Both were naked at the time, were they not?’ he asked.
    â€˜So you do remember,’ she said.
    â€˜I do. It was — romantic.’
    â€˜Yes, Ulysses, it was. You were wounded in battle, and Nausicaa cared for your wounds.’
    â€˜I’m wounded in battle again, Nausicaa.’
    In moments, the sun would disappear behind the hills. In an hour, darkness would blanket the landscape. As Eliza decided to reach for her chemise, Harry rolled over and kissed her, hard on the lips. He took his time, savouring each moment. The glowing embers in herbody flared as the searing surge swept over them. She writhed with pleasure. And the more her body asked for more, the more he gave.
    He lay close, naked, his body wet. The rising tide of his excitement flooded over her, lifting her high, matching his