by Anne Mather
‘Crazy little fool!’ he snapped, as she endeavoured to escape him. ‘Why the hell can’t you behave like any normal female?’
‘By fawning all over you, I suppose,’ she gasped, as he forced her hands from her body and imprisoned them at her sides, and Jude’s eyes darkened.
‘I said I intended to talk to you,’ he retorted. ‘I invited you to join me downstairs. You chose the venue, not me. Now you’ve got to take the consequences.’
‘What consequences?’ she demanded, quivering as his eyes moved over her, and with a groan, he shook his head.
‘I think you know,’ he muttered huskily, and gripping her waist he pulled her to him.
She should have fought him then, but she couldn’t. When his mouth covered hers, she was shocked into awareness, and the most obvious awareness was an increasing desire to submit. She had never been naked in a man’s embrace before, and the fact that the man was Jude robbed her of all resistance. Close in his arms, with the roughness of his belt chafing her midriff, she was helpless in the grip of emotions that refused to be controlled. After the way she had treated Rupert she should have been equally prepared to repulse the overtures of another man, but with Jude it was never like that. With his hand warm against her spine, promoting an urgent intimacy between them, she could feel herself yielding, and the taut demin of his pants could not disguise his growing arousal.
‘You know what I want,’ he said against her mouth, his warm breath sweet and wine-scented. ‘You want it, too. I can feel it. And God help me, Sara, I don’t want to wait—–’
‘You—you must.’ Sara shifted anxiously against him, as commonsense and her conscience fought to gain precedence. ‘Jude, you can’t do this. You mustn’t do this. Can’t—can’t we talk in the morning?’
‘Like hell!’ he muttered, his hands sliding up her spine, his thumbs deliberately brushing the hard peaks of her breasts. Sara trembled as her body responded, but still her eyes protested, and with a sound of impatience Jude took her face between his palms.
‘All right,’ he said huskily, bending his head to rub his tongue against her lips, ‘tell me to go and I’ll go. But don’t pretend it’s what you want, because I won’t believe you.’
Sara moved her head helplessly from side to side. It would have been easier, she thought, if he had forced her. Then she would have had a reason to resist. Now, with his grey eyes on her, his thin dark face waiting for her reply, she found herself incapable of sending him away.
‘Oh—Jude,’ she breathed, winding her arms around his neck, and with a groan of satisfaction he gathered her up into his arms.
The sheets of the bed had never felt softer or more sensuous than they did against her bare skin. Or perhaps it was Jude, on the bed beside her, his eager hands and exploring fingers taking possession of her in a way she had never imagined.
She had expected he would turn the lamp off, but he didn’t, and her heart thumped at a palpitating pace when his hands went to release the buckle of his belt. She turned her eyes aside from what he was obviously doing, and for an awful moment cold reason returned to chill her flesh.
‘Harriet—–’ she objected, as he came down on the bed beside her, sleek and brown-skinned and supple as a cat, but he only silenced her with a deep and searching kiss.
‘To hell with Harriet,’ he muttered, pulling her beneath him, and the delight of feeling his muscled body close to hers stilled any further protest she might have wished to make.
‘The light,’ she exclaimed anxiously, when he shifted to one side to run warm possessive fingers down over her flat stomach, and his expression grew meltingly indulgent.
‘I want to look at you,’ he told her softly, following the path of his fingers with his lips. ‘I want to possess you. I want to touch you—and taste you—and make you want me as much as I want you.’
Sara found she was responding in spite of the lingering inhibitions that were urging her to fight him. Her body seemed to have a will of its own, and it instinctively knew what he wanted her to do. Against her own volition, it seemed, she was twisting and turning and arching against him, and when the moist wave of sweetness brought a sudden weakness to her legs, she trembled on the brink of real experience.
‘Now,’ he breathed, sliding over her to find her parted lips with his own, and her hands sought and convulsively gripped the hair at his nape.
‘Now!’ she cried wildly, hardly aware of what she was doing and his mouth stifled the sob that rose in her throat as a stabbing pain ripped through her …
It was the pain that she remembered when Jude lay still beside her. With her eyes fixed on the curtains, moving softly in the draught from the window, and the lamplight shifting in patterns on the ceiling, she could almost have pretended that nothing had happened—if it hadn’t been for the pain!
Of course, she had been incredibly naïve. She hadn’t considered—she hadn’t realised—how physical it would be. To contemplate what Jude had done, to re-live those moments when he had invaded her body, brought a shivering revulsion, and she couldn’t imagine how she could have willed such a thing to happen feeling the way she did right now. She wished he would go. She wished he would get up from her bed and let her go into the bathroom and wash away her guilt and her pain. She felt she would never be able to face Harriet again, and for what? she asked herself bitterly.
When Jude moved she stiffened, holding herself completely still as he levered himself up beside her. She even closed her eyes, praying he would think she was asleep and leave her, but a probing finger across her lips showed how futile that was.
‘Do you hate me?’ he asked huskily, as her eyes flickered open, revealing their dry wounded depths to his gaze. ‘Did no one ever warn you how it was?’
‘It’s not the sort of thing one discusses with anyone else, is it?’ she declared tightly. ‘But—but as it’s over, perhaps you’d go now.’
Jude’s mouth twisted. ‘Sara, I didn’t want to hurt you, but believe me, it’ll never happen again—–’
‘I’ll make sure it doesn’t!’ With a shiver of apprehension Sara struggled up on to her elbows, but when she would have swung her legs off the bed, one of his legs prevented her.
‘Wait,’ he said huskily, imprisoning her beneath him, but Sara only panicked and raked his shoulder with her nails.
‘For heaven’s sake,’ she cried. ‘What do you want from me! You—you’ve seduced me! Isn’t that enough?’
‘Not nearly,’ he told her roughly, his expression gentle as she still tried to get free of him. ‘Sara, Sara—it can be so much better. Let me show you how making love should be.’
‘Now?’ Sara was horrified.
‘Now,’ he agreed softly, pushing the moist hair back from her forehead, but Sara was appalled.
‘You can’t—–’
‘Why can’t I?’
‘I—I don’t want you to touch me again.’
‘You don’t want me to hurt you again,’ he amended dryly. ‘Believe it or not, you hurt me, too.’
‘I did?’ Sara was briefly diverted, but then she shook her head. ‘Just go away, please. I want to be alone.’
Jude’s mouth tightened. ‘You know, I’m tempted to take you at your word.’
‘I wish you would.’ Sara turned her face away from him.
‘Do you?’
Jude was silent for so long, she was compelled to turn and look at him, and her stomach wobbled at the unwilling awareness that she still found him disturbingly attractive. As he lay unashamedly beside her, his lean muscled body open to her gaze, she felt the unwelcome stirrings of feelings she had hoped extinguished by his brutal assault. But they were still there, and she averted her eyes in case he should become aware of it, too.
‘Sara!’ he muttered impatiently, misinterpreting that suddenly veiled glance. ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ and with a backward movement he got off the bed, leaving her looking after him in troubled bewilderment.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked, foolish
ly she realised, but the words were out before she could stop them.
‘To get good and drunk,’ retorted Jude, reaching for his trousers, and hardly aware of what she was inviting, Sara struggled on to her knees.
‘Do—do you hate me?’ she stammered now, needing to know. ‘I mean—I was—I am—in a state of panic, I know that. But—but I have—have to accept—some blame—–’
‘Blame!’ Jude glared at her, swearing as he struggled to get one leg into his jeans. ‘You know something? You’re not real!’
Sara quivered. ‘Jude, listen to me—–’
‘Why should I? You wouldn’t listen to me!’
‘Jude, please—–’
‘Please what?’
He halted abruptly, looking down at her, his fingers on the point of zipping up his pants. Hardly knowing what she was doing, Sara stretched out her hand and stayed his, and his choked protest was wrung from him: ‘Sara!’
‘Don’t—don’t go,’ she said unsteadily, giving in to emotions too strong to be ignored. ‘Stay with me—–’
‘If I stay with you—–’
‘I know,’ she silenced him huskily. ‘I must be out of my mind!’
‘You’re driving me out of mine,’ Jude retorted grimly, but when he joined her on the bed, it was a very desirable kind of insanity …
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HE was gone when Sara awakened. The rattle of teacups disturbed her heavy eyes, but when she lifted her lids it was to see Janet standing over her with a tray. Immediately one hand groped across the place beside her, but to her relief she was alone and Janet was none the wiser.
‘It’s ay eleven o’clock,’ she declared disapprovingly, as Sara wrapped the sheet about her. ‘It’s no my place to tell ye when ye should be up, but I’m thinking ye’ll not be wanting to miss Miss Russell’s call.’
Sara was blank and confused, torn by guilt and self-recrimination, and totally incapable of comprehending what Janet was going on about. ‘Miss Russell’s call?’ she echoed faintly. ‘Laura—called here?’
‘She telephoned,’ agreed Janet shortly. ‘Soon after nine. But Master Jude wouldn’t let me disturb you then.’
‘He wouldn’t?’ Sara’s face flamed with revealing colour. ‘He—he took the call?’
‘Noo.’ Janet shook her head. ‘He just said to ask the lassie to ring back later. And I’m telling ye, she said she’d ring again after eleven.’
‘I see.’ Sara moistened her dry lips. ‘And—and where is Jude?’
‘Where would the laddie be but at his work?’ Janet demanded dourly. ‘Not all of us can lie abed till nigh on noon. I’ll be leaving the tray.’
‘Oh—oh, yes. Thank you.’ Sara shifted across the bed so that the housekeeper could put it down beside her. ‘I—I’m sorry I overslept, I—don’t know why I’m so tired.’
‘Do ye no?’ Janet’s brows beetled. ‘And what time were ye to bed last night? Gallivanting till all hours with that young man. I don’t know what Miss Ferrars is thinking of, that I don’t. Can’t she see Lord Hadley will never stand for it?’
‘I—I wasn’t out until all hours,’ Sara contradicted her quietly. ‘I—I was home quite early, actually. About half past ten.’
‘Were ye now?’ Janet’s gaze grew speculative, and Sara realised that by defending the length of time she had spent with Rupert she was leaving herself open to other questions.
‘Yes,’ she said hastily now. ‘I—I was tired.’ Then she looked down at the tray. ‘This—this really is kind of you, you know. It—wasn’t necessary.’
‘Master Jude’s orders,’ retorted Janet stiffly, making for the door. ‘See you eat it,’ and with an unexpected softening of her features she went out of the room, leaving Sara with the distinct impression that for once Janet was not angry with her.
On the tray was a silver rack of toast, some curls of butter and marmalade, and a delicious pot of coffee. But first there was a glass of fresh orange juice, and as she sipped it Sara felt the unwilling stirring of recollection. She didn’t want to think about what had happened the night before. She didn’t want to remember her own shameless behaviour. But now that her mind was alert again, the memories were irresistible, and in spite of her good intentions, waves of weakness swept over her. Dear God, she thought, as the aching sweetness of fulfilment made all her senses tingle, and she might never have known what making love was all about! If she and Jude had parted in anger … She sighed. Yet perhaps it might have been better if she had remained in ignorance, she amended silently. For, having shared the experience with Jude, how could she ever contemplate sharing it with anybody else?
A trembling languor took possession of her, and unable to deny the urgent demands her body was making, she lay back voluptuously against the pillows. If she closed her eyes she could almost feel Jude’s possessive hands upon her, and the persuasive abrasion of his mouth as he hungrily drank from its sweetness. His ardour had known no bounds, and her body had opened to him. She had wanted him then, she had wanted all of him, and that powerful surge within her had satisfied her every need. There had been no pain, only pleasure, no revulsion, only an aching desire to please him as he was pleasing her, and then the ultimate satisfaction, as they both reached the heights together …
Afterwards, she had been bemused and sleepy, content to fall asleep against him, with his male scent all about her. Even when he awakened her again, in the cool dark hours before dawn, she had responded without hesitation, eager to experience that forbidden ecstasy again. And it was only now, in the cold light of day, that guilt and self-contempt were surfacing, to make what had happened a thing of shame and torment.
Banishing the treacherous memories from her thoughts, she hastily poured herself a reviving cup of coffee, and then got determinedly out of bed. But her legs were weak and she swayed before steadying herself, her wanton nakedness another lash to flay her conscience. Yet, human nature being what it is, she could not prevent an involuntary glance at her reflection. Somehow she had expected what had happened to show, but apart from a slight bruising here and there, her body looked as wholesome as it had ever done. Only she knew it was not, she thought tremulously, and despised herself for the reaction she still could not control.
She was in the shower when Janet came tapping at the bathroom door, and she remembered belatedly why the housekeeper had wakened her. Laura had rung. How could she have forgotten? Was she so selfish, so absorbed with her own feelings, that not even the knowledge of her friend’s call could penetrate the egotistical barrier of her thoughts.
‘Yon lassie’s on the phone again,’ Janet called, as Sara turned off the water. ‘Will I tell her ye’re coming to take the call?’
‘Yes. Yes, please, Janet.’ Sara hastily wrapped the fluffy pink bath sheet about her and opened the bathroom door. ‘Tell her I won’t be a minute. I’m sorry for the delay. I—I thought I had more time.’
She doubted Janet believed her, but she went away, and Sara quickly brushed her hair and put on the towelling bathrobe to go downstairs. She didn’t bother dressing. There wasn’t the time. And besides, there was only Janet to witness her déshabille.
She wondered as she descended the stairs why on earth Laura should be ringing. After all, she had only had her letter two days ago. She hoped nothing serious had happened.
Curling up on the velvet armchair in the hall, she lifted the receiver. ‘Laura? Laura, how lovely to hear from you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t up sooner to take your call.’
‘Oh, don’t worry.’ To her relief, Laura sounded much the same as usual. ‘It’s my nursing training, I suppose. I’m always awake soon after seven.’
‘Yes.’ Sara wished she could think of a suitable response, but she couldn’t. Laura would probably be horrified if she told her the truth, and pressing her lips together, she said instead: ‘So—how are you? How’s the ‘flu? I was going to write to you today.’
‘As a matter of fact, that’s why I’m ringing.’ Laura took a deep breath. ‘Loo
k, Sara, is there any chance of your coming up here for a few days?’
Sara swallowed convulsively. ‘I—I don’t know—–’
‘I wish you would.’ Laura sounded pretty fed up now. ‘You don’t know what it’s like here. The flat’s so empty, and since Tony went on night duty …’
‘Tony’s gone on nights?’ Sara sighed. Tony was Laura’s next door neighbour, and she guessed her friend would miss his cheerful company.
‘That’s right,’ Laura agreed now. ‘It would just happen when I was off. It never rains, isn’t that what they say?’
Sara hesitated. ‘I’d love to come up and see you, Laura, you know I would, but actually, we’ve had something of a—well, an accident down here. Harriet’s in hospital—–’
‘In hospital?’
‘—–with a fractured skull,’ Sara finished, and then briefly outlined what had happened, without mentioning Jude’s part in the affair. Laura did not even know of Jude’s existence, and somehow Sara did not think she would approve if she did.
Laura was concerned. ‘I’m so sorry. You must stay there, of course. Please give her my best wishes the next time that you see her.’
‘I will.’ Sara felt even worse. Oh, God, she thought, if only she could escape to London until Harriet came back to Knight’s Ferry.
The sound of a door slamming brought her round with a start to find the reason for her bitter recriminations strolling indolently across the hall towards her. In close-fitting corded slacks and a wine-coloured silk shirt, his jacket looped lazily over one shoulder, he looked dark and attractive, and irritatingly pleased with himself, and Sara jerked round sharply, denying her leaping senses.
A hand snaking over her shoulder and down inside the hastily drawn neckline of her bathrobe brought a look of horrified indignation to her face, but his mouth only curved indulgently as her breast swelled to his touch. ‘Get rid of them, whoever it is,’ he ordered huskily, and his mouth against her neck was almost her undoing.