Free Through the Eye of Time by Trevor Hoyle Page A

stumbling-block – she despises and detests the man.
    Now this could prove a real hazard to my plans. Nothing, I have found, is so intransigent as the body chemistry of the female. I explained to her that personal feelings didn’t enter into it – this was merely ‘an arrangement’ and that she should regard it as an unpleasant task that would bring great rewards.
    â€˜But how
long
will it go on?’ she demanded, obviously distraught at the prospect of spending months or even longer in the intimate company of somebody she found odious. ‘If it was one night I could get drunk and last out somehow till the morning. But you’re talking about a relationship, something that could drag on for years.’
    â€˜Darling,’ I said, ‘hush. Listen quietly now.’
    She turned to look at me, her face wistful in the lamplight. She has this maidenly habit of lowering her eyes demurely and glancing up through her fair lashes; very fetching it is, altogether quite effective; I’m sure he would fall for it. And something else in her favour: she is not a perfect beauty. He wouldn’t go for that. But her winsomeness, the common-or-garden prettiness of a healthy outdoor girl with roses in her cheeks and fine unobtrusive features – yes, these are the ideal attributes.
    â€˜Now listen,’ I said, stroking her bare shoulder, ‘hasn’t it occurred to you that you and I will see much more of each other? Here in Berlin and in Obersalzberg during the summer? Where he goes I go – we will be together, the three of us. And when he isn’t looking …’
    â€˜You don’t love me, Theo,’ she said pettishly. ‘If you did you couldn’t bear the thought of another man touching me. Especially him. After all you’ve said about his personal bodily habits and the disgusting things he does in the bathroom.’
    She wrinkled her nose and shuddered.
    My hand moved down to her waist underneath the bedclothes.She shivered and goose-pimples appeared on the soft hanging flesh of her arm.
    â€˜Listen to me,’ I said. ‘Think of it as a chore, a task that has to be done. It needn’t be every night. You could ration him to once a week. In any case he’d be away some of the time on those mad schemes of his. You know how he likes dashing about, keeping people on their toes, pretending to be busy.’
    â€˜Then you’d be away too,’ she pouted, arching her back in response to my silky explorations.
    I held her nipple between finger and thumb and pinched it. It stiffened instantly. ‘Eva …’ I crooned softly. ‘I’m asking you very nicely.’
    â€˜Oh Theo, no, not even for you.’ She pushed my hand away. ‘You say you love me but you don’t. You
don’t
.’
    â€˜Of course I do, my little horse-radish. Do this for Theo. It will make us very rich.’
    â€˜Filthy rich?’ she said, giving me the sidelong glance that someone, possibly her first boyfriend, had told her was provocative. On a good day I’d give it six out of ten.
    â€˜Richer than all our dreams,’ I said, taking hold of her hands. ‘Ten times richer. A hundred times richer.’
    She pulled her hand from mine and brought it to rest on me beneath the bedclothes. Her eyes grew round. ‘One condition,’ she said, sounding out of breath. ‘That I can have this whenever I want it.’
    â€˜Whenever he isn’t looking,’ I qualified.
    â€˜You are a wicked, wicked man.’
    â€˜Which is why you love me.’
    I clasped her buttocks and pulled her towards me; then disengaging one hand I took a piece of confectionery from the bedside table.
    â€˜A little present for you, dear heart.’
    â€˜Oh Theo,’ she squealed. ‘Chocolate. How sweet of you.’ I popped the chocolate into her mouth. ‘You do think of me after all.’
    â€˜That’s my