Emma told herself she didn’t care. Making her way back to their room, she undressed, lay down on the bed and defiantly picked up a fat paperback book which she proceeded to read as if her life depended on it. For the first twenty minutes she was so preoccupied that she could not have said whether it was a spy thriller or a treatise on botany, but little by little her interest was caught. After a while she forgot all about Richard and became absorbed in the story so that it was a surprise to her when she finally looked at her small travelling clock and saw that it was well after one o’clock in the morning. For a moment she felt a pang of alarm, worrying whether something had happened to him, but then reason asserted itself. Probably he was just out there walking off his bad temper. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to pursue him and try to make things right between them! At least she had enough sense to know that that was a lost cause.
Tossing the book on to the floor, she flicked off the light and closed her eyes. The deep, velvety night descended on her like the wings of some huge, dark bird and she drifted into sleep… Hours later, she woke in the soft glow of the bedside lamp to find Richard shaking her. Groggy and protesting, she fought her way up to the surface of wakefulness.
‘What’s wrong? What do you want? What’s happened?’
‘It’s time you got up. I want to reach the rim of the crater before the weather gets too hot.’
Blinking and shuddering, Emma hauled herself upright and looked at her clock.
‘But it’s only five-thirty!’ she protested.
‘The best time to start,’ insisted Richard firmly, stripping the bedcover off her with a ruthless gesture. ‘Now, can you take a shower alone, or do you need help?’
That threat was enough to get her moving and half an hour later, after a breakfast of rice cakes and fruit, they were on their way up the lane that led from the centre of the village towards the mountain. Once they passed the little temple about a kilometre from the village the sun rose abruptly among the hills, flooding the scene with brilliant red-gold light. They continued across the cindery scrubland at the base of the mountain, traversed a couple of dry riverbeds and headed for the peak. Now the way became very steep and dusty and in several places Emma had to grasp at the small pine trees that grew beside the track to get a hand-hold. Their sharp fragrance clung to her skin and her breath began to come in deep, laboured gulps. Although the air was cool and fresh, her mint-green polo shirt was turning dark with sweat and clinging to her body, while her legs were dusty and her shorts streaked with mud. All the same, she could not suppress an unexpected feeling of exhilaration as she toiled up the slope behind Richard. If only there had not been so much tension between them, she would have been enjoying every minute of this.
When at last the path divided, they took the left band branch down to the lower point of the crater rim and were met by the welcome sight of two boys selling cold soft drinks. Fortified with fizzy lemon, they set off again for the high point of the crater rim. Here the track was narrow and precipitous, with steep drops on either side and dizzying views over waterfalls and gorges covered with lush green foliage. More than once Richard had to take her hand and coax her along, as she darted nervous glances at the ground plummeting away below, but he did this with an impersonal kindness that chilled her. There was none of the eye contact, none of the warm, special smiles that there had been on their honeymoon, and when at last they reached the crater rim Richard did not put his arm around her. Instead he stood apart from her with his arms folded, gazing down with a brooding expression at the scene below.
The first time she had come here Emma had been thrilled by the magnificence of the sight. Now she felt oppressed by the eerie silence, broken only by the occasional ominous sound of a rock crashing into the crater or the forlorn cry of a bird. Wreaths of steam rose soundlessly from clefts in the rock and the air had a faint sulphurous tang to it. Last time she was here Richard had kissed her again and again, had crushed her in his arms and told her how much it meant to him to share this strange, exotic place with her. Now they seemed to be sharing nothing except an intense mutual dislike. Richard stood apart from her, eyeing her askance with an odd, bitter smile hovering on his lips. There seemed no point at all to the expedition.
‘Can’t we go now?’ she burst out fretfully.
He shrugged.
‘Yes. Well. I suppose we’ve achieved the aim of the expedition,’ he replied drily. ‘Let’s get back.’
They took a different path coming back, one which was even steeper than the first, and Emma had little attention to spare for anything other than simple survival, particularly since Richard now seemed to be ignoring her entirely. He hurried on ahead with demonic energy, only turning back occasionally to make sure that she was still in sight before hurtling down another steep stretch of terrain. By the time they reached the hotel again, Emma was exhausted, filthy and in a thoroughly bad temper.
‘I’m going to take a shower,’ she announced flatly and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door.
Deliberately she took her time, washing her hair and even waxing her legs and manicuring her nails, taking a malicious pleasure in keeping Richard waiting. But when she emerged in a cool cotton frock, she found that he was no longer wearing his sweat-stained shorts and T-shirt. In fact, she realised with mounting alarm, he was wearing nothing at all. He stood balanced on his right leg, with his left leg braced against the bed as he vigorously towelled it dry. As if drawn by magnetism, Emma’s gaze travelled up that hard brown muscular thigh with its flecks of bronze hair to the fork of his body. Instinctively she caught her breath. Richard glanced up sharply at the sound.
‘Wh-what are you doing?’ she faltered.
‘What does it look as if I’m doing?’ he snapped. ‘You looked as though you were planning to stay in the bathroom half the night so I went for a swim in the thermal springs. I’m just getting dried.’
‘Oh.’
In spite of her best intentions, she stole another swift, furtive glance at him and then blushed hotly at the unmistakable signs of his growing arousal. Hastily she averted her eyes and her stricken gaze met his.
‘Of course, there are other things I could do,’ he said throatily, flinging away the towel.
Emma’s whole body stiffened and her heart gave a tumultuous leap of terror and excitement.
‘What do you mean?’ she demanded, backing away.
He crossed the room slowly, tauntingly.
‘You know damned well what I mean,’ he growled. Then, winding her long, dark hair around his fingers, he reeled her in like a fish on the end of a line. ‘Why don’t we find out if the magic really is over, Emma?’
CHAPTER FIVE
EMMA opened her mouth to protest and found it stopped by a long, hungry kiss. Richard’s naked body was pressed hard against her and she could feel the power in his tense, bunched muscles as he hauled her more fiercely into his embrace. His legs were straddled wide apart, engulfing her in a way that made her feel small, fragile, infinitely feminine. Through the thin cotton of her dress she could feel the heat radiating from his body in waves and with it came a faint, salty, masculine odour that made her head swim. An answering warmth leapt through her own veins and she gave a small, shuddering sigh as his mouth left hers and moved down her throat in a trail of scorching kisses. With frenzied urgency he unbuttoned the front of her dress, revealing her soft white breasts budded with pink. Slipping his hands inside her bodice, he stroked them teasingly until they rose in hard, aroused peaks. Then, with a swift, abrupt movement, he withdrew his fingers and snatched at the sides of her dress, crumpling the fabric into balls.
‘Take it off,’ he ordered hoarsely.
‘No!’
‘Yes!’
There was a sharp sound of ripping cloth, a muffled loss of breath as the dress was hauled savagely over her head and flung away. Then Emma found herself naked and shrinking under Richard’s intent, glittering gaze. Instinctively she flung
up her hands to cover her breasts and opened her mouth to voice a protest. But Richard’s fingers covered her lips, then moved over her cheeks in an unexpectedly tender caress.
‘Don’t fight me, sweetheart,’ he growled. ‘It’s been so long. Far, far too long. Let me look at you…touch you…in the old, special ways…’
As he spoke, his hands were rippling down over her hair and shoulders, prising her defensive fingers loose and raising them to be kissed. With a slow, provocative smile he drew one of her fingers into his mouth and sucked softly on it so that a tremulous thrill of warmth shot through her entire body. She shuddered and her eyes closed briefly. She had always loved it when he did that. Loved it too when his fingers crept down her spine in those firm, caressing circles as they were doing now… Loved it when he kissed her… oh, so softly… on her ear so that his warm breath sent tingles of excitement flaring through her. Yes. Yes. Like that. An involuntary pang of pure sensual ecstasy shafted through her and she uttered a soft moan.
‘Well, do you want me to stop?’ he murmured, his mouth so close that his breath stirred her hair.
Her body was arched into his, her head was tilted back and her breasts were strained against his chest, brushing against his warm, hard muscles in a way that she found unbearably arousing. Every cell in her body seemed to be tingling and a long-forgotten heat was pulsing through her in dizzying waves. Oh, heavens, how she wanted him! Her whole body seemed to be a throbbing ache of need, which only intensified when Richard pulled her ruthlessly against him. She could feel the stirring of his male warmth, the damp, hot urgency of his passion as he ground her body against his.
‘Well, do you want me to stop?’ he repeated in a low, taunting growl.
She heard the mockery in his voice and did not care. Did not care about anything except the one primitive fact that this was her man, her husband, naked and hard and virile, crushing her in his arms and demanding her total submission. And she needed him, wanted him, loved him with a blind and reckless violence that destroyed all sense of self-preservation.
‘Answer me!’ he challenged again.
‘No,’ she choked, collapsing against him in a shuddering surrender. ‘Damn you! You know I don’t want you to stop…’
A gleam of triumph narrowed his blue eyes and twisted the corners of his mouth. Suddenly, with a swift movement, he scooped her into his arms and stood gazing down at her, exulting in his victory.
‘Good,’ he murmured hoarsely. ‘Then I’m going to carry you over to that bed, Emma, and enjoy you until you beg for mercy.’
She stiffened resentfully at the gloating tone in his voice. Why did he take such pleasure in forcing her to admit how much she wanted him? Obviously he enjoyed humiliating her by dragging the admission out of her. And that must mean that he did not, could not possibly love her any longer, for otherwise he would never want to hurt her like this. For an instant she hated him so much that she wanted to slap the mocking smile off his face. Yet, as he dumped her carelessly on the bed and crouched above her with a look of brooding triumph, she discovered that rage could be a powerful aphrodisiac. She hated him, hated him! And yet, glancing nervously at his powerful, masculine figure looming over her, she wanted him with an urgency that appalled her. The bedside lamp glowed like orange firelight on his skin, highlighting every muscle and sinew and making his body hair glow like copper wire. In its haunting glow, with his gleaming eyes and wildly disordered blond curls, he looked like some primitive caveman. And the responses which he awoke in Emma were equally primitive.
‘Time enough for preliminaries in the future,’ he murmured brutally. ‘Tonight, I’m simply going to take you, ready or not.’ His hand rubbed down over her breasts and belly in a casual gesture of ownership and then explored further. ‘But it seems as if you are ready, doesn’t it, Emma? More than ready. Begging for it.’
Anger scorched through her, but he spoke the simple truth. And when he lowered his crushing, masculine weight on to her and drove into her with ruthless force, her treacherous body welcomed him gladly. Turning away her face and twisting in agitation, she tried to remember that she hated him, but all she cold feel was a wild, breathless rejoicing at his return. They belonged together, like this, with their bodies moving in a frantic, intoxicating rhythm of passion and love and mutual need. Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, my love, my darling! she sang inside her head. Oh, God, I’ve been so miserable without you. Don’t leave me, please, please don’t ever leave me! Yet by digging her nails into her palms and clamping her lips tightly closed she somehow held back the reckless, dangerous words. Until the very end. For when those dazzling, electrical pulses of sensation suddenly burst into flames and made her whole body convulse in ecstasy, all restraint vanished. Shocked and exalted, she found that she was clinging to Richard, whimpering and gasping and babbling what she had most wanted to hide. ‘Richard. Oh, my darling! I love you. I love you!’ His response took her by surprise. Threading his strong fingers through her hair, he crushed her against him, holding her as if he would never let her go. She felt the wild thudding of his heart, heard his low moan of fulfilment as he too reached his climax and then collapsed, spent and shuddering, on top of her. ‘Emma…Emma,’ he breathed hoarsely. ‘Oh, Emma.’ She smiled secretively into his warm, damp shoulder, then reached out and snapped off the light. As they lay exhausted and intertwined, a deep, solemn happiness welled up inside her. He hadn’t told her in so many words that he still loved her, but hope blazed inside her. Magically their lovemaking seemed to have changed everything and the way Richard had held her, the way he had gasped her name made her feel that everything was bound to come right between them. In the velvety blackness she heard his breath slow and quieten. With a joyful smile, she wriggled out from beneath him and turned on her side so that she could nestle into the crook of his arm. For a long time she lay awake, too exhilarated and wound up to sleep, but at last she drifted into darkness. Her last thought was filled with dreamy pleasure. We will stay together, I know we will…
But Emma’s optimism was short-lived. She woke the following morning with the uncomfortable sensation that she was being watched. Sleepily opening her eyes, she saw that Richard was already dressed and sitting in a cane chair next to the bed, gazing down at her with a strange, brooding expression on his face. His chin rested on his hand and something about the tense stillness of his pose made her suspect that he had been there for hours. An ominous thrill of alarm ran through her limbs and she stretched out her hand to him, groping for reassurance.
‘Darling, what’s wrong?’ she began. ‘Have you—?’
‘Don’t waste your cheap endearments on me!’ he retorted savagely. Then, surging to his feet, he prowled across the room and snarled at her over his shoulder, ‘Get dressed. We’re taking the first plane we can get back to Australia.’
Thoroughly alarmed now, Emma scrambled out of bed and ran after him. Laying one hand imploringly on his arm, she dragged him round to face her.
‘Richard! What’s wrong? Everything was going so well last night! I thought you loved me again!’
His blue eyes scanned her naked body with a gaze so contemptuous that it scorched her. Scornfully, deliberately he looked up from her heaving breasts to her face.
‘Then you thought wrongly,’ he hissed. ‘And I’d rather you didn’t mention the word “love” between us again, Emma. After all, it’s pretty debased currency where you’re concerned, isn’t it? I’m sure you’ve gasped out the same touching little confession to at least half a dozen other men. I suppose you think it adds an extra edge to the sexual frenzy, do you?’
‘No!’ cried Emma in horror. ‘No! Richard, how can you say such dreadful things?’
His voice was like velvet now—husky, gently abrasive, with a softness that was indefinably menacing.
‘Easily, Emma,’ he purred. ‘Just as easily as you can mouth your smooth, tying professions of love to me. But I prefer the clean. cold truth. What we shared last night wasn’t love, it wa
s just a damned good—’
She winced at the crudity of the word as if he had seared her flesh with a whiplash. Then, with wide, horrified eyes, she backed away from him, shaking her head in a dazed fashion as she fought to understand what he meant.
‘No!’ she protested hoarsely, her throat so tight that she could hardly utter the words. ‘No, Richard. It may have been for you, but it wasn’t for me.’
‘You lying little whore!’
Her chin came up and her face flamed.
‘If that’s what you think of me, then release me from this ridiculous agreement!’ she challenged. ‘You’ve had what you wanted, you’ve proved your point. Now let me go!’
Dimly she recognised that Richard was in an even worse state of torment than she was herself. Every muscle and contour of his powerful, masculine physique radiated tension and aggression. His legs were planted wide apart, his fists were clenched, a threatening scowl disfigured his face and his breath came in shallow, rapid gulps as if he had been running a long-distance race. Yet even now he clung stubbornly to his outrageous purpose.
‘No!’ he growled through clenched teeth. ‘I said three months and three months it will be.’
Emma felt the end of the bed touch the back of her leg and suddenly could bear no more. She sat down with a groan and saw that Richard’s gaze was still fixed on her naked body with a hungry, disturbing ferocity. Fumbling on the floor, she found a crumpled dressing-gown and shrugged herself into it. Then she straightened up and looked him dead in the eye. It was like clashing swords with an antagonist whose only aim was to strike at the heart. For the first time she realised just how much pent-up rage and hostility Richard felt towards her and she was baffled and dismayed by the force of it. Why? Why did he hate her so much? Her first impulse was to fling on her clothes and flee back to Sydney where she could be alone with her turbulent feelings. But what would that achieve? In any case, she was no longer a shy nineteen-year-old, but a hardened businesswoman, the veteran of countless boardroom battles. Tossing back her long, dark hair, she squared her shoulders and spoke.
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