Free The Specimen by Martha Lea Page A

of him. It was too earthy. It caught in her throat like the smell of hanging poultry, and reminded her of certain
flowers which attracted flies.
    As he tightened his grip on her, and breathed into her, Gwen remembered one of the young men she’d been introduced to. His own body odour had been strong. They had been dancing and even
out on the balcony in a stiff breeze she had smelled his sweat. The pressure of Edward’s body reminded her of how the young man at that Ball had leaned in close; his breathing had been almost
exactly like Edward’s was now. What hindsight was, indeed, she thought.
    “I was sorry to hear about your mother,” he had said to her, and she had pretended not to hear, but he had carried on. “I had the good fortune to have been introduced,
once.” Still she had pretended not to hear, as the orchestra was very loud. “I am not one of those—” here she lost his words in the crescendo of the music “—you
know, Miss Carrick.” She had thanked him for his company and had never spoken to him again. She couldn’t even remember his name. Charles somebody. A nobody.
    Edward clamped his mouth over a tender part of her neck near the collarbone and sucked hard. Gwen looked up into the branches of the tree as she tried to twist her neck out of his mouth.
Edward’s groans were muffled; he let go briefly and then clamped his mouth again onto her neck, at the same time thrusting between her legs more furiously. Gwen concentrated on the sharp
pinpricks of sunlight bursting through the leaves above her as they shifted in the breeze and made different patterns.
    Edward released her. He said, “I have found a place in town. I mean to establish a practice.”
    “A medical practice?”
    “Yes.”
    “You’re a
doctor
.”
    “The idea disappoints you.”
    “It surprises me.”
    “Oh. I had hoped to be able to see you more often. I hope I soon shall.”
    Gwen walked away and brushed down her skirt, buttoned up the collar of her blouse. She was upset that Edward had kept the secret of his life from her until this moment. How could he do this? One
instant to be spilling himself between her clamped thighs, the next to be discussing some business arrangement. She had once asked him for a secret and he had told her some
thing
about a
mayfly. He’s made himself out to be ignorant about science, she thought, and yet he must have spent years in his medical training. Edward came after her, tucking himself up.
    “I should have introduced myself in the proper way. For that I am sorry. It has been on my conscience. I would like to make amends.”
    “Why did you not?”
    “I have never thought myself particularly worthy of the title. Call it self-doubt.”
    “And now you are confident.”
    “My mind and attitude have altered considerably since meeting you. You must know that you have had a great effect upon me.”
    “I am disappointed by your secrecy, Edward.”
    He slid an arm around her waist. “I am sorry to have hurt your feelings.” He kissed her while he grabbed at the fabric of her skirt and pulled it up, slipping a hand underneath. He
let his fingers rest, poised until he was sure of his impact through the kiss, and delicately drew her forgiveness from her as inevitably as the yolk in a blown egg must burst though the tiny
aperture made by the pin.
    “We simply can’t afford anything so ridiculously extravagant. What on earth possessed you?” The irony of her own words were not lost on Gwen who looked at her
sister across the breakfast table with cool fury.
    “He’s a gift.”
    “What? Oh, that makes it so much better. For heaven’s sake. As if it wasn’t already—”
    “Yes? You were going to say ‘bad enough’, weren’t you?” Euphemia’s lips were parched and cracked and as she pursed them into a thin line of satisfaction, Gwen
saw a beading thread of blood ooze over the papery skin.
    “You are making us ridiculous, agreeing to have a pastry chef, of all things, in the