Treasures of Time [antikvár]

Chapter One The alarm went. He resisted it, burrowing against Kate's warm back. He feit her reach out, bang the clock, lie in disquieting wakefulness. She said, 'Tom?' He burrowed again. She sat up, the sheet slipping from her bare breasts. 'Do wake up. Listen, I've been thinking. I shall have to take you to see my mother.' 'Mmn?' 'You'11 have to meet my mother.' 'Ah. It's come to that, has it?' 'She keeps asking about you. I can't put it offany longer.' 'Well, fine, then. When do we go? Who wants to put it ofL anyway?' 'Me, I suppose.' She had got out of bed now, and stood at the dressing-table brushing her hair. He watched her bottom, lovingly. Dear Kate. Splendid Kate. Her hair stood up in a dark wiry frizz all round her head; at her waist opposing pink curves nicely echoed the shape of white knobs on the dressing-table; below, her bottom rose and feil in time with the hair-brushing. He said, 'What?' 'Do wake up properly, Tom, it's gone eight. I said we'd better go this weekend.' 'Fine.' He yawned, clasped his hands behind his head. 'Great. I like Wiltshire. Cradle of British archaeology. Stonehenge. Avebury. Stukeley's stamping ground - right up