by Penny Jordan
He looked at her, the tiredness falling away, his expression suddenly alert, and then his gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered there.
Her heart seemed to jump frantically and the heat that washed her had nothing to do with the warmth of the room.
'Oh, Sorrel,' he groaned, reaching for her, framing her face with hands that trembled. 'Heaven forgive me, I shouldn't be doing this.'
His mouth touched hers, his lips warm and firm, trembling slightly in a way that was gut-wrenchingly exciting as she felt his emotion and yielded herself to it in a mindless act of need.
Later she was to wonder if he had only meant the kiss to be a brief caress… if it was her own blind yielding that fuelled the passion that erupted between them, burning white-hot and out of control, as he bit fiercely at her mouth, his fingers hard against her skin, his body arching hers back, the towel bunched up between them. Her lips parted, soft and moist and swollen into a sensitivity that made her tremble wildly as his tongue touched her lips.
Against her mouth he muttered hoarsely, 'So sensitive. Oh, you'd go crazy in my arms if I did that to you here.'
His hand touched her breast through the thickness of the towel, and she shook as much at what he had said as at what he had done. As though to confirm his words, her breasts swelled and ached tormentingly.
'I've got to feel you against me. Just this once.'
And before she could stop him he was pushing away the towel, and pressing her against his body. She felt the roughness of his jeans against her thighs and the hardness of the body inside them. His belt buckle dug into her skin and she tried to squirm away.
'What's wrong?'
She had never seen a man's eyes darken with such passion, the heat of it reflected in the long burn of colour on his cheekbones. A muscle pulsed quickly in his throat.
She swallowed hard, feeling her own blood pick up the giddy rhythm of his. 'Your belt. It hurts…' She spoke slowly, as though language was an unfamiliar means of communication.
'Where… where does it hurt you?' he demanded rawly, and the sensation of his hand suddenly covering her stomach made her cry out sharply and ache to push herself against him.
He had gone very still, and she saw that he was looking at her breasts. Her skin was so white compared with his, white and blue-veined, her nipples flushed and swollen. She saw the breath he drew lift his chest and felt his tension. He reached out and touched her, cupping her gently, as though he found her body an awesome mystery.
'Shall I show you how I can make you feel?' he asked her, and the words seemed to echo round the room. She closed her eyes and imagined how it would feel to have his mouth against her flesh. 'Don't marry him, Sorrel.'
She flinched as his words broke the spell, and made to pull away from him. She saw the passion die out of his eyes, to be replaced by a gentler emotion. His. hands came up to cup her face, holding it gently. She could have moved away, but she didn't.
'It's all right,' he told her softly. 'There's no need to be scared. What happened was a moment out of time… something born out of my fear that…' He broke off, his hands gentle as they moulded her face. He bent his head and placed a healing, passionless kiss against her mouth. 'I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?'
Tears stung her eyes. What was there to forgive? She was equally to blame, and she clung to the excuse he had offered her like the survivor of a sunken ship to a piece of wreckage. Of course he was right. That passion, that need—hers as well as his—had been born out of the intense emotion of their fear. It had been a natural reaction. And, now the danger was past, life was back to normal. Here was her second cousin however many times removed from Australia, and she was Andrew's fiancé.
'It's OK,' she told him shakily. 'I think we both over-reacted.' She offered him a tremulous smile, and then tensed as she saw his eyes darken as though… as though…
'Come on,' he said gruffly, picking her up. 'Let's get you tucked up properly in bed.'
'In bed? I'm not an invalid,' she protested. 'I'm perfectly capable of getting dressed and coming downstairs.'
She saw that he looked dubious, and felt a wave of tenderness wash over her. She was so used to being thought of as practical and independent that it came as a shock to recognise how much she liked the thought of leaning on him, even if only briefly.
'Are you sure you'll be all right?' he asked her, touching her shoulder briefly.
She nodded, turning her face away so that he wouldn't see how much that touch pleased her.
'Leave the door open,' he told her as he walked toward it. 'Just in case you do need me.'
She didn't. She managed to change into clean dry clothes and get herself back downstairs, and she told herself that the trembly sensation in the pit of her stomach when she walked into the kitchen and looked at him came from a purely physical weakness caused by the accident.
'Come and sit down,' he urged her. He was looking at her as though he half expected her to disappear in front of him. She must have given him a terrible fright. She reached out and touched his wrist.
Beneath her fingertips, she could feel the crispness of his dark body hair. It sent an electric tingle jolting down her arm. He moved away abruptly, almost as though he didn't want her to touch him, she recognised.
'Your prophecy yesterday about them finding us frozen in the snow wasn't so far out, after all,' she joked, trying to lighten the tension. To her shock, his face drained of colour and he looked at her with haunted, bitter eyes.
'For pete's sake,' he demanded thickly, 'what are you trying to do to me?'
'It was a joke, Val. I…' She saw that the hand he rubbed over his face was shaking slightly. Of course he would be shaken. He would be feeling responsible. He was that kind of man… allowing himself now that the danger was over to imagine what it would have been like facing her family, telling them… She gave a small shudder and begged huskily, 'Look, let's just forget about the whole thing. It was my fault for behaving so stupidly. If you hadn't been here…'
'If I hadn't been here, it would never have happened in the first place. The sooner either the thaw comes or your brother arrives, the happier I'm going to be.'
Sentiments she thoroughly echoed. Didn't she? Sorrel asked herself as she watched him pouring them both large mugs of coffee.
'Here, drink this,' he told her gruffly. 'I reckon we both need the kick of the caffeine. About what happened upstairs—' he added, but Sorrel didn't want to hear whatever it was he was going to say. She wanted to forget the entire incident had ever taken place. Forget that she had ever… ever felt that need to be a part of him, that desire… that intensity of pleasure.
'Val, please, let's just forget it. Please,' she begged.
He looked at her for a long time and then asked her tautly, 'Will you tell Andrew about it?'
Her heart thumped against her ribs. Would she? She cleared her throat and looked away from him.
'I don't know,' she told him honestly. There was enough pain and uncertainty in her voice for him to hear them and curse himself again for what he had done. He should never have touched her, never have kissed her, never have… But it was too late. Looking at her, he wondered cynically if his desire to separate her from her fiancé had ever been entirely altruistic. Well, his sisters would have a laugh at his expense if they ever found out. He tried to imagine himself years from this moment, looking back at it and not feeling any pain, but he couldn't. How ironic life could be…
It was gone midnight, and as yet Val had made no effort to suggest that either of them went to bed. She couldn't face another night on the kitchen floor; her body ached in a thousand places as it was.
She gave him a surreptitious glance beneath her lashes. She had seldom seen a more male man; every movement he made was loaded with animal grace.
She stifled a large yawn, but not before he had caught the small betraying sound. He put down the diary he was studying and asked curtly, 'Tired?'
She nodded. He got up and walked over to the window. The day
had been cold, with flurries of snow.
'Wind's changed,' he told her.
She got up and joined him, listening as he had done. 'Maybe that will mean a thaw.'
'Let's hope so,' he told her grimly, and then he turned to her and told her bleakly, 'You're quite safe with me, Sorrel. If you're putting off going to bed because you're afraid—'
'No,' she checked him quickly.
'I'm not sleeping on the floor,' he told her, 'and neither are you. We both need a good night's sleep, Sorrel,' he added in a more gentle tone. 'I promise you you've nothing to fear. I won't touch you.'
'Nor pretend that I touched you?' she asked him wryly, her heart lifting when she saw a trace of a smile warm his eyes. It was disconcerting how much she had missed the teasing looks he gave her, the light in his eyes when they warmed with laughter.
'Nor pretend that you touched me,' he agreed.
'I'll go up then,' she suggested, since there seemed nothing else to say. He was right, she was exhausted; shock had taken its toll on her and it must have done on him as well. She must not forget that for him the shock had probably been greater, because he had known that the full responsibility for getting her out of the drift alive lay with him.
She tried to imagine Andrew coping with such a situation, but couldn't. Andrew would have panicked and fussed. Andrew wouldn't have had the first idea what to do. Andrew would have let her die, she acknowledged bleakly.
CHAPTER SEVEN
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During the night the weather changed with an abrupt turn-about carried on a warm westerly wind, but neither of the occupants of the comfortable double bed were aware of it.
The noise of the wind did make Sorrel stir briefly, but only to snuggle more closely into the curve of Val's body as he obligingly accommodated her persistent burrowing movements and curled a proprietory arm around her in his sleep.
Strain and exhaustion had taken their toll on both of them, and neither of them heard the Land Rover rattle into the farmyard over the melting snow and ice.
Simon had left Ludlow early, as anxious as the rest of the family to find out if the two girls were all right.
He sounded the Land Rover horn before getting out, and Val heard it, waking instantly, to give Sorrel a warning shake.
She was still curled up next to him, and as he looked down into her face he reflected that he had never seen such perfect skin. He reached out and touched her cheek gently with his fingertips, unable to resist the impulse. Her eyelashes fluttered and her eyes opened.
'There's someone outside,' he told her.
For a moment it didn't penetrate, and then Sorrel shot up in bed, demanding, 'What?'
They both heard the tread of feet on the stairs at the same time, the sound accompanied by off-key whistling.
'Simon,' Sorrel groaned, recognising her brother's familiar whistle. 'Oh, no… It must have thawed.' She made to leap out of the bed, but Val restrained her, shaking his head when he saw the panic in her eyes.
'We haven't done anything wrong,' he reminded her quietly. 'There's no need to be afraid.'
And then Simon rapped briefly on the door and pushed it open.
'Sorrel, are you awake?' he began, only to stare at the bed and its two occupants in mute disbelief.
'Good lord, Sorrel!' he exclaimed. 'What…'
His attention swung from his sister to her companion as Val pushed aside the bedclothes and reached for his jeans.
'This is Cousin Val,' Sorrel said weakly, and then, before her brother could ask her any questions, picked up her own clothes and fled to the bathroom, cravenly leaving it to Val to make the necessary explanations.
She stayed there until Val came and knocked on the door and told her, 'Coffee's ready, Sorrel, and your brother wants to make an early start back.'
Reluctantly she opened the door.
'What did Simon say?' she whispered frantically.
Why on earth had they had to oversleep this morning, of all mornings? What on earth must Simon be thinking? What on earth had Val told him? It had been idiotic of her to run away like that. Heaven knew what tales Val had been telling Simon. Her brother would have understood, if she'd explained what had happened properly, but now…
'He says he wants to start back as soon as possible,' Val told her cheerfully.
'No, not about that. I meant about…'
'Finding us in bed together?' Val asked her drily, laughing a little unkindly at her expression. 'Poor Sorrel, but you're so easy to tease.'
There was no hint of passion in his eyes, no awareness of her as a woman, no trace of yesterday's tenderness; they were back to their old footing, which was what she wanted, and yet…
Val saw the expressions chase one another across her face and hid his own feelings. It had been very enlightening, talking to her brother. He had discovered from Simon that the rest of her family shared his own views about her engagement, and once he had explained the situation, confided in Simon that…
'Your coffee will be getting cold,' he reminded her, 'and I still have to get washed and dressed.'
Sorrel went downstairs slowly, hesitating just outside the kitchen, and then, taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door, reminding herself that she had done nothing wrong. There was nothing for her to be ashamed of.
'Oh, there you are,' Simon commented, pushing a mug of coffee towards her. 'Ma's been going frantic about the pair of you up here. She'll be relieved when she discovers that you had Val to take care of you.'
'I don't need anyone to take care of me. I'm an adult, not a child,' Sorrel countered, and then bit her lip. 'You must have got quite a surprise when you discovered… that is, when you realised that Val was a man.'
'Not as much of a shock as you evidently got,' Simon told her, chuckling appreciatively, and a little of her apprehension died away. Whatever Val had said to Simon had obviously had the effect of reassuring her brother as to the innocence of their behaviour.
She picked up her coffee, clasping the mug in both hands, and said huskily 'Simon, you won't say anything to anyone about… about this morning, will you?'
'By anyone, I presume you mean Andrew,' he asked her drily. 'You've no fears there, Sorrel. Your fiancé and I don't exactly go in for intimate heart-to-heart chats.' He saw her face and walked over to her, hugging her. 'Look, sis, it's all right. Val's explained everything to me, and I promise that I won't say a word to Andrew. I wouldn't have said anything anyway, you know,' he added wryly. 'You are an adult, as you've just pointed out, and whatever you choose to do in your private life…'
'Simon, that's just the point. It wasn't like that—' she began, but Simon wasn't listening to her.
He had gone over to the window to look outside, and said to her over his shoulder, 'I'm not sure how long the thaw's going to last, but I don't want to hang around up here. How quickly can you be packed and ready to leave?'
Despite Simon's assurances, all the way home Sorrel worried that he wouldn't be able to resist the opportunity to tease her by revealing the compromising position in which he had found them. Her family would understand, of course, but she knew how much they all disapproved of her engagement. If Simon should take it into his head to say something to Andrew… The wisest course would be for her to' tell Andrew what had happened herself. There was, after all, no real reason why he shouldn't know… was there?
She had elected to sit in the rear of the Land Rover, insisting that Val take the front passenger seat next to Simon. She was deep in thought, and he made her jump when he suddenly turned round and said quietly to her, 'For pete's sake, Sorrel, what kind of man is he? If he loves you…'
'He does,' she told him hurriedly, 'and besides,' she fibbed, 'I wasn't thinking about Andrew.'
'Liar,' he mocked her softly. 'You're worrying yourself sick about what's going to happen if he finds out.'
'No. No, I'm not.'
'We'll be in Ludlow in ten minutes,' Simon called over his shoulder above the noise of the engine. 'Warn Val to look
out for the castle, Sorrel.'
Dutifully she pointed it out to him, wishing she didn't feel quite so acutely conscious of him as he turned round in his seat, leaning one arm along it as he looked in the direction she was pointing.
She had to sit on the edge of her own seat in order to make herself heard above the noise of the engine, and consequently, when Simon had to brake suddenly, she shot forward and would have ended up on the floor if Val hadn't reacted with lightning speed and caught hold of her.
The sensation of his hands holding her and his warm breath on her skin instantly transported her back to the moment when he had kissed her with such fierce passion.
She went white at the unexpectedness of the piercingly sweet sensation the memory brought, causing Val to hold her even tighter and demand urgently 'Sorrel, what is it? Are you all right?'
At first she thought he was mocking her, that he knew quite well what was wrong with her, and then she saw the anxiety in his eyes and guilt replaced her pain.
'I'm fine,' she told him shakily, but she knew it wasn't true and that she was far from fine, that she would never be 'fine' again.
He had come into her life and completely torn apart all her carefully erected plans for the way she wanted to live her life, and now she was floundering in a morass of self-doubts and fears, with no clear point to aim for.
'Soon be home,' Simon told them, adding warningly, 'Ma's got the red carpet out… to make up to you for having to shunt off to the farm with only Sorrel for company.' He grinned across at Val. 'Boy, is she going to get a shock when she sees you!'
'Not too much of a shock, I trust,' Val returned evenly, and although the words were calm and bland Sorrel felt as though he was giving Simon a firm warning.
About what? About not revealing the compromising situation in which he had found them? An unfamiliar sense of warmth enveloped her… a feeling of being protected and cherished, a feeling of security in knowing that Val stood between her and the questions that were bound to come.