by Penny Jordan
Something dangerous and vulnerable inside her ached pitifully, but she refused to give in to it. After all, wasn’t it really safer, wiser to let him think the worst of her? To ignore that ridiculous yearning to hear over and over again that gentle, almost tender, intonation to his voice which surely had to be a product of her ridiculously overcharged imagination?
And if it hadn’t been… It had, she told herself firmly. After all, there was no way he could possibly feel any tenderness towards her.
* * *
‘Good lunch, was it?’
Livvy tensed as she heard the sarcasm splintering through Richard Field’s voice.
She had returned to the farmhouse less than half an hour ago, half expecting to find that Richard was still out, but instead she had discovered that he had returned before her.
‘Yes, as a matter of fact it was,’ she replied calmly. ‘Very enjoyable.’
She warned herself that there was no point in deliberately goading him, and then asked herself ruefully what it was about him that drove her into over-reacting so irresponsibly.
She already knew how he believed she had spent her ‘lunch’. Did she really look as though she had actually passed the afternoon indulging in some heavy sex-session, instead of enjoying a very pleasant lunch with another woman, accompanied by a very interesting discussion on different methods of teaching?
‘And yours…?’
The look he gave her warned her that she had pushed him too far. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ she exclaimed irately. ‘Look, I know what you think, but you’re totally wrong. My lunch date was another woman…a fellow teacher. I met her yesterday when I was touring the caves. She invited me to visit her school and to have lunch with her.’
When he made no response, she shrugged her shoulders and added impatiently, ‘All right, don’t believe me if you don’t want to…I don’t care.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?’
Livvy turned away from him uncomfortably. She knew quite well why she had led him on to believing the worst about her, and she knew equally well that there was no way she was going to answer his question honestly.
How could you tell a man like this one that your instincts, those perverse, feminine, rebellious and oh, so hard to control, deeply rooted, atavistic feelings which really had no place in the life of a sensible modern woman, had warned her that it would be dangerous to let him get too close to her…that it would be foolish to do or say anything which might bring down the barriers they had erected against one another, that it was safer to allow him to think the worst of her?
No, she couldn’t tell him any of that. So instead, she shrugged again and, keeping her face turned away from him, said dismissively, ‘Why should I?’
When he didn’t make any response, she added edgily, ‘It really didn’t seem that important.’
‘No? Then why tell me now?’
He was quick, she had to give him that, Livvy admitted, as she caught her breath. ‘No reason,’ she lied.
The look he was giving her made a mockery of her pretended insouciance.
‘All right, I admit it. I don’t like being judged—wrongly—as…as someone who’s so sexually dependent that…’ She was getting into deep water, she warned herself, and if she wasn’t careful he was going to start asking her some very awkward questions, such as why it should matter to her what he thought of her or how he misjudged her. It didn’t, of course, not one tiny little bit. It was just that…
‘You mean you don’t like the fact that I know exactly what you really are…’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’ve had enough of this. What you saw at the auberge wasn’t what you thought at all… I know you won’t accept this…I know you have some kind of…of problem which seems to make it impossible for you to view my sex other than with some ridiculously distorted bias, but that man you saw me with was not there with my consent, my desire, my agreement, or anything else. Far from it.
‘He had followed me up from downstairs, using the fire exit. He caught hold of me before I could stop him, and what you seem determined to believe was a mutual desire for sex was in fact attempted rape. It was no thanks to you that he didn’t succeed,’ she added angrily. ‘I really don’t care what you think of me or even whether you believe me or not, but for the sake of the rest of my sex I would strongly counsel you to learn the distinguishing signs that say a woman is welcoming a man’s advances or rejecting them.
‘If I had wanted that…that oaf as my lover, do you honestly believe I’d have allowed him to maul me like that in the corridor, in public?’ Her eyes flashed angrily, heightened colour burning her face. ‘I suppose you’re the kind of man who believes that no woman is ever raped against her will, that—’
‘No…that’s not true.’
The harshness of his denial shocked Livvy into silence, her anger suddenly spent, leaving her feeling oddly weak and close to tears.
She hadn’t meant to say anything to him, to let him see how much his attitude towards her irked and distressed her, and now, in the silence filling the kitchen, she wished that she had remained silent.
He probably didn’t believe her anyway, she reflected tiredly. He was probably far too used to holding on to the comfort of his antagonism to let go of it and admit that he had made a mistake.
She turned away from him, heading for the door.
‘Why didn’t you say something at the time?’
She stopped. Without turning round, she asked him huskily, ‘Like what…please help me?’ She looked at him over her shoulder and gave him a bitter smile.
She had just reached the door when she felt his hands on her arms. Her whole body tensed as he swung her round to face him. She could see the angry pulse beating in his jaw, smell the heat coming off his skin.
‘You’re enjoying doing this to me, aren’t you?’ he demanded through gritted teeth. ‘You’re loving every minute of it… You…’
He stopped as she made a tiny, choked sound of protest in her throat.
‘My arms…you’re hurting me,’ Livvy protested fiercely, even though she knew it was more shock than pain that was making her tremble, and the fact was that the sensation of his skin against hers, of its warmth and strength, was producing tiny quivers of physical reaction inside her body which were a world away from what she was claiming to feel.
‘I’m sorry.’ He looked confused…bitter…anguished almost, she might have said, but then her gaze focused on his mouth, and the most extraordinary surge of emotion rose up inside her.
It took every ounce of will-power she possessed not to close her eyes and let her body sway softly into his, not to lift her head and offer him her mouth.
Quickly she pulled away from him, praying that he couldn’t guess what she was feeling.
Perhaps he was right after all…perhaps secretly she was some kind of wanton… Perhaps he possessed some kind of magical power that totally transformed her personality, made it impossible for her to resist him.
Yes, and it’s called sexual chemistry, she told herself grimly, as he stepped back from her, setting her free to open the door and make her escape.
What on earth had possessed her to over-react like that? It was obvious that he hadn’t believed a word she had said.
Which was perhaps just as well.
CHAPTER NINE
‘SO YOU still haven’t been able to talk to George?’ Livvy asked Gale anxiously.
As the kitchen door opened and Richard Field walked into the room, she pressed the receiver closer to her ear.
It was almost a week now since they had both arrived at the farmhouse, and she was growing increasingly anxious for the situation to be resolved. Not because Richard Field disturbed her personally; not because she found that she was disconcertingly aware of him as a man, and not even because of the unfamiliar feelings and emotions she was experiencing. No, it was none of those things; it was for Gale’s sake that she wanted things sorted out, she assured herself firmly.
/> Even so, she found that she was turning round slightly, watching as Richard crossed over to the other side of the kitchen and proceeded to start making some coffee.
‘George did telephone last night—from Japan,’ she heard Gale telling her, ‘but he rang off before I could tackle him about the farmhouse. I’ve a good mind to go and see Robert Forrest myself and ask him what he thinks he’s playing at. George has a responsibility towards us as well as to his work.’
Livvy frowned as she caught the unfamiliar tremor in her cousin’s voice. The situation was obviously placing far more of a strain on Gale than she had initially been prepared to admit.
‘Livvy, I just don’t know what to do,’ Gale told her, confirming her suspicions. ‘George has never behaved like this before. He’s always put us first. I know his job’s important… But he missed the boys’ parents’ day. He’s never done that before… I went, of course, but I could tell how upset they both were by his absence. Roderick even asked me if…if George and I were going to get a divorce. I told him we weren’t, but for all the time George is spending at home these days we might as well already be divorced.’
Beneath Gale’s anger, Livvy could sense her bewilderment and pain. Her cousin needed her husband far more than she wanted to admit, Livvy recognised.
‘He’s still there, I suppose,’ she asked Livvy, changing the subject. ‘I hope you’ve made it clear to him that there’s no way he can buy the farmhouse without my agreement. Really, the man must have the hide of a rhinoceros to persist in staying when…’
‘He knows the situation, Gale,’ Livvy cut her cousin off, all too conscious that Richard Field could probably hear what Gale was saying.
‘Mmm… Well, I shall have a thing or two to say to George about what he’s done when he does eventually come home. He should have discussed it with me first—giving the man a key and not saying a word to me about it…without giving any consideration at all to the situation he’s placed you in.’
‘George didn’t know that I would be staying here, Gale,’ Livvy felt bound to remind her cousin. ‘I think I’ve managed to get everything sorted out with the plumber,’ she added, wanting to get Gale off the subject of Richard Field. ‘I’ve asked him to send the estimates direct to you. It sounds as though it’s going to be rather expensive,’ she warned Gale. ‘Perhaps in the circumstances you should wait…’
‘As I’m having to wait for George to come home,’ Gale demanded crossly. ‘No, thanks. I’ll ring you just as soon as I’ve spoken to him and found out what’s going on,’ she added. ‘I must go now. I’m taking Roderick to his tennis lesson in half an hour.’
‘That was Gale,’ Livvy told Richard Field unnecessarily after she had replaced the receiver. There was no need for her to explain her actions, nor to feel uncomfortable about them, and yet, idiotically, she did.
The smell of his freshly brewed coffee tantalised her taste-buds; without discussing it or drawing up any formal rules, they had somehow managed to evolve a routine which brought them into as little contact with one another as possible.
Richard Field spent most of his time away from the farmhouse, exploring the region, Livvy assumed, but today for some reason he had not gone out.
‘How is she?’
The question caught her off guard. She stared at him in surprise, searching his face for some sign of the irritation and dislike she had previously seen him exhibit when he talked about her cousin but, a little to her surprise, she could find no evidence of it.
‘She’s f… She’s very upset and worried,’ she told him quietly, pushing to one side the polite fib she had been about to voice. ‘I think she’s just beginning to recognise how much she needs George. The boys are missing him too… I think she must be getting pretty desperate. She was talking about getting in touch with George’s boss herself…’
She paused as she saw the quick frown he gave her.
‘She’s desperate to talk to George,’ she told him defensively. ‘Surely you can understand that? I know you don’t have a very high opinion of the female sex, but Gale is George’s wife and she has every right…’
She tensed with indignation as he turned away from her. He might at least have the courtesy to hear her out instead of turning his back on her and walking away, even if he didn’t like what she was saying, but to her surprise, before she could protest at his rudeness, he had reached for a clean mug and was filling it with a second cup of coffee… When he turned back towards her, handing it to her, her jaw dropped slightly.
‘Here,’ he told her wryly. ‘If we’re going to have an in-depth argument on the subject of the rights that go with marriage in general, and your cousin’s application of them in particular, then you might as well fortify yourself with this. If nothing else, it will give me an opportunity to have my say while you’re drinking it.’
Livvy gaped at him. It almost sounded as though he actually enjoyed the thought of arguing with her…of being with her.
‘There is nothing for us to argue about,’ she told him loftily, as she tried to control the dizzy, heady feeling that was threatening what should have been far more rational thoughts. ‘It’s Gale’s right as George’s wife to expect him to discuss his plans with her. To share…’
‘To share… It’s easy to see that you’ve never been married nor involved in a long-term relationship. Ask anyone who has; they’ll soon tell you that only foolish idealists believe that marriage is about sharing; the reality is that it’s about power, power and control. Up until now, Gale has controlled George and their relationship, and now she’s afraid that George might be escaping from her control she’s starting to panic.’
‘That’s not true,’ Livvy countered hotly. His cynicism appalled her. What must his own marriage have been like, for him to hold such views? Not a happy one, obviously. ‘Gale loves and needs George. She might not always show it…it might not be obvious on the surface…she might have seemed to be the stronger one, the more powerful one,’ she added as she caught the small sound of derision he made, ‘but in reality…’
‘In reality, what? She treats him like a child, orders him around and generally publicly humiliates him. Is that how she shows her need and love for him?’
‘All right, she might sometimes seem to be slightly domineering,’ Livvy admitted reluctantly, ‘but that’s only on the surface. Underneath…’
‘You’re obviously a hopeless romantic,’ he told her roughly. ‘You have to be if you think that.’
A hopeless romantic. Less than a week ago he had been accusing her of having a very different personality. As though he too was remembering that, he suddenly added abruptly, ‘Mind you, you do have a vested interest in taking your cousin’s side, don’t you? You are both women.’
‘I’m not taking her side,’ Livvy told him. ‘I’m just trying to point out that deep down she needs George.’
‘Financially perhaps, but—’
‘It isn’t anything to do with money,’ Livvy interrupted him angrily. ‘It’s emotionally that Gale needs George, although I don’t suppose someone like you could ever understand that. You seem to be obsessed by money, determined to believe that it’s the pivot of a relationship. Well, I for one would never put money before…’
‘Before what?’ he challenged her softly.
Livvy stared at him, suddenly aware of how dangerously off the subject she had travelled and on to ground which she was discovering was riddled with hidden pot-holes and quagmires.
Even so, she refused to be cowed by the hard, mocking look he was giving her. Lifting her chin, she told him firmly, ‘Before my feelings.’
He laughed. ‘So what would make you commit yourself exclusively to one man. Love?’
The cynicism in his eyes made her heart ache, but she was not going to back down, no matter how much he derided her.
‘As a matter of fact, yes,’ she told him bravely.
He stared at her for a long time before saying roughly, ‘You’re either a fool or a liar, and kno
wing what I do know about your sex…’
He didn’t finish his sentence. He had no need to, Livvy reflected bitterly half an hour later as she drove her car down the farmhouse lane, still seething with the intensity of the emotions he had aroused in her.
What on earth had prompted her to expose herself to him like that? She had known before she opened her mouth what his reaction would be.
He might seem to have discarded his initial judgement of her as a promiscuous flirt, but she suspected that nothing could shift his entrenched and biased views of her sex.
As she turned out on to the main road, she admitted that she herself had been guilty of some bias. He had not liked it at all when she had met his final challenge by saying that, just because his own marriage had failed, it didn’t mean that there was no such thing as a happy, successful marriage.
‘What do you know about my marriage?’ he had demanded aggressively.
‘Nothing,’ she had admitted, ‘other than what you’ve told me. But it obviously didn’t work. Your wife…’
‘My wife left me for another man?’ he interrupted her harshly. ‘My wife only married me for one reason, and that reason was nothing to do with “love”. She had the divorce settlement worked out before the ink on the licence was even dry.’
His bitterness had silenced Livvy, her eyes softening with a compassion she couldn’t conceal. No matter how much she disagreed with his views and his attitude, it was impossible not to feel sympathy for the pain she could sense lying beneath his harsh words.
‘You must have loved her.’
The soft words were said before she could recall them, and she knew at once that they were a mistake, an intrusion…a potential catalyst to the powerful emotions he was fighting to control.
‘Loved her?’ His eyes had glittered dark with disillusionment and pain. ‘Loved her? No, but I thought I was in love, and she with me. I was wrong, though. What I had thought was “being in love” was in reality closer to lust—mere physical desire—but I was too young, and too idealistic, to recognise it at the time.’