by Helen Brooks
"I've known them both since university and there has never been a couple more deeply in love," he continued grimly, his eyes lethal.
"But Elda can't have children, or to be more precise she can't carry a baby more than twelve weeks. It's been miscarriage after miscarriage, I've lost count, and since the last one a year ago she's got it into her head that
Andrew is going to leave her for someone else who can give him children. / know that it's the last thing on Andrew's mind, he's _nearly been going insane trying to convince her that he loves her more than any desire for procreation, but six months ago she tried to kill herself and things got really heavy for a time. She can talk to me, she trusts me." He eyed her condemningly as he said the last three words. "And Andrew and I both thought it was better than a psychiatrist, so I've been there for her--for them both."
"And the appointment?" she asked through numb lips.
"Elda's going to America," he stated expressionlessly. "A colleague of
Andrew's suggested a doctor who is unparalleled in his work for childless couples, added to which we all thought the change would do her good. The thing is an obsession now, which she has seen at last.
She is a lovely lady and I hated to see her so messed up. “He eyed her grimly.
"That is the truth, Lydia, take it or leave it. Andrew is going to join her out there in a couple of weeks when the initial tests have been completed, but he wanted me to turn up before she left as a surprise. She left on the seven o'clock flight," he added flatly.
"I see." Totally inadequate, but she couldn't think, let alone speak.
"I'm sorry," she said weakly.
"So..." He looked down at her, his eyes hooded.
"Do you believe me?
Really believe me? "
"Of course I believe you." If she had been looking at him she would have seen the hard face soften at her total acceptance of the ignominious position she had placed herself in.
"It was just after all you'd said--' She stopped abruptly. This was her fault. She'd jumped to all sorts of conclusions without any real knowledge of the facts, and she couldn't blame him, not even indirectly. Oh... She bit on her lower lip painfully. What an utter fool she'd made of herself.
"I'm sorry," she said again, her voice wretched.
_"I haven't looked at another woman since the first day I set eyes on you."
The deep softness in his voice brought her head jerking up, her eyes wide as they met his.
"If that helps at all? Not that there was a steady stream before that, I might add." He smiled slowly.
"Your faith in my prowess in that direction is more than a little touching."
Wolf ' "I need to talk to you, Lydia. I should have done it weeks ago but I wasn't ready, you weren't. I knew you were hurting and I wasn't sure if your marriage was really over. Added to which He stopped abruptly. “Dammit, woman, don't look at me like that, I can't think straight," he said thickly.
"Wolf..." His name was a plea for understanding.
As he reached for her a little movement behind him caught Lydia's eye.
"Hannah?" Wolf turned in the same instant and they both surveyed the tiny pink and white angel standing in the doorway with sleep-smudged eyes and silky blonde hair, a battered teddy bear tucked under one arm. It was a picture guaranteed to win first place in anyone's affections, and as Lydia moved towards her daughter Wolf crouched down, his eyes soft as they looked gently into the small face in front of him.
"Bad dream?" It hurt her unbearably to see him like that, to understand what memories it must bring back to him of his own daughter, but as he held out his arms to Hannah and she climbed into them Lydia only saw a quiet tenderness in the hard male features that wrenched at her heart.
"You woke me up." Hannah spoke fearlessly into the dark, handsome face in front of her.
"You're very noisy."
"I'm sorry." His face was rueful as he glanced at Lydia over her daughter's fair head.
_"That's all right." Hannah snuggled contentedly in his arms.
"I like you. I asked my mummy when you were coming to see us again," she continued happily.
"And what did your mummy say?" he murmured quietly.
"She said you were too busy." Hannah moved back an inch and surveyed him thoughtfully.
"But you aren't, are you?"
"No." He smiled suddenly.
"I'm not at all busy, Hannah. Now..." He glanced at Lydia again, his eyes enquiring.
"If I'm the one who woke you up, how about if I put you back to bed--yes?"
"Yes, please." Hannah was clearly enchanted by the thought, brown eyes dark with satisfaction.
"Perhaps your mummy will make me a cup of coffee while I do so?"
Lydia nodded weakly. This was all too much. Wolf here in her small home, acting as though he had always been here. Her heart jumped into her mouth.
Acting as though he liked being here.
It was some ten minutes later before she heard his footsteps on the stairs and she had no premonition of what was coming. She turned as he entered the room and then shrank back against the wall as she saw his face.
"Why, Lydia?" His voice was a low snarl and the dark colour burning the high cheekbones spoke of furious, contained rage.
"Why the fairy-tale?"
"What?" And then she realised, far, far too late, what Hannah had innocently revealed to the big, powerful man in front of her.
"He's dead, isn't he? He's been dead years." His voice was raw and brutal and savage.
"I've suffered the torments of the damned for weeks, called myself every kind of swine for my baser urges regarding you, and all the _time..." He was breathing hard and deep.
"I was burning up inside for days when you first came to work for me, and that day in the lift..."
He shook his head angrily.
"I loathed myself afterwards, couldn't believe I'd fallen so hard, and then when I found out he'd left you, that there was a chance you were free--' " I wanted to explain," she said desperately.
"I tried--' " But not too hard. “The icy, cynical voice was scathing.
"It gave you some sort of kick, did it? To see me making a total fool of myself?"
"It wasn't like that--' " Who else knows? “He glared at her furiously.
"Mike, of course, he'd just love this. And the typing-pool? And the cleaners?"
"No, believe me. Wolf, it's not like that. I didn't try to make you look a fool--' “But you succeeded. “His voice was as hard as steel, the man who had been in the room ten minutes before now seeming a figment of her imagination.
"For the first time in years I wanted to be with someone because of who they were, or who I thought they were," he finished cut tingly
"And however I tried to fight it the feeling got stronger and stronger. But you were so naive, so pure, so untouchable." The harsh bark didn't resemble a laugh in any way.
"Oh, you're good, baby, I have to give you that. You're the best." He raked his hand through his hair wildly, his eyes narrowed slits of cold ice. This was worse than anything she could have imagined. She stared at him with great bruised eyes as he verbally ripped her apart.
"How long was the charade going to continue?" he asked icily.
"I knew I should have followed my head and not my heart after I'd seen you with Mike that day. It was all too pat, too convenient. And I heard _him warning you to keep quiet! Hell, I don't believe all this! You dared to lecture me on my lifestyle when all the time--' “It wasn't like that.
You're making it sound as if I planned it all," she protested desperately.
"Oh, and it just happened?" he asked bitterly.
"You told me a pack of lies, Lydia, admit it."
"But--' " Admit it," he said ruthlessly.
"Yes, I lied." She stared at him wildly, her eyes hunted.
"But Mike is nothing to do with this, I hardly know him. I lied to get the job and it didn't seem important at first. Not at first--' “And later? “he asked grimly.
>
"Later..." Her voice trailed away. How could she explain later? How could she tell him that she had used her supposed husband as a defence against her own feelings for him and the attraction "she knew he felt for her, albeit only physical? That she: hadn't dared to let him know she was free because she would have been unable to resist him, but that in her case it wouldn't have just been a giving of her body. She would have given her mind, her soul, everything. She loved him. But he would have used her and walked away. He would.
"I knew you just wanted a brief affair," she said bleakly.
"You knew?" He eyed her with such coldness that she felt the chill of it freeze her blood.
"The hell you did."
"You told me you steered clear of any involvement, that you chose your women as much for that as anything else," she said hotly.
"You can't deny that. You wanted physical satisfaction, maybe some fun--' "
Don't tell me what I wanted," he growled furiously. “So this is all my fault? Is that what you're saying? "
"No!" Her voice was too shrill, and she checked it quickly. Hannah arriving back on the scene would be _the final straw.
"But you didn't tell me anything, talk to me--' " I talked to you more than
I've talked to anyone in years," he said angrily.
"I felt as if I was treading on eggshells half the time but I tried--' He stopped abruptly.
"Hell, what am I defending myself for? Even if you'd dug a hole for yourself there were times you could have told me, you know that."
"Yes, I know." Her misery seemed to make him more angry.
"So why the hell didn't you? Because you liked having me on a string?"
He eyed her coldly.
"Well?" he barked suddenly.
"Answer me."
"What do you want me to say?" She knew she was losing the last thread of control but her temper had risen to match his. He was seeing this all his own way, he wasn't even trying to acknowledge the position he had put her in at the beginning of their relationship and, whatever he said, he hadn't talked to her, not really. If anyone had been kept at arm's length it was her!
"Just tell me and I'll say it. That's all you want, after all, isn't it--obedient little female puppets to jerk to your string? The great Wolf
Strade, cold and unapproachable, making everyone tremble if they come within a hundred yards of you!
You don't know the meaning of love and commitment and normal life.
You're so caught up in your own little world. You talk about poor Elda being obsessed? Well, at least she is obsessed with something positive, a desire for her own child with the man she loves. You're just obsessed with emptiness--' "Have you quite finished?" He was glaring at her, hands folded across his chest and his big body as taut as an iron rod.
"No." She stared back defiantly, but the rage was beginning to die and a wave of agony take its place. This was the death-knell of all her secret hopes and desires. He would never forgive her for the things she had said, even if he could have forgiven her for the lies and deceit regarding Matthew.
"It's about time you listened to someone else for a change."
"Is it, indeed?" The rigid control was slipping, she could see it in the burning fury in the piercing blue eyes. "But perhaps I don't want to listen to you, Lydia, perhaps I want to do something quite different."
"Don't you come near me." As he took a step towards her she backed away, her hand to her mouth.
"Don't come near you?" He laughed bitterly.
"But why shouldn't I? You aren't a distressed young wife, forsaken by her childhood sweetheart, are you? Far from it." He seemed beside himself with rage.
"What exactly you are I haven't the faintest idea and frankly I don't care.
You are here now and so am I. That's all that matters. "
He walked back to the door and shut it, sliding a chair against it before turning and walking over to her again. She was standing straight and erect now, determined not to flinch before him.
"If I start to make love to you it won't be rape, you know that." His face was hard and cold as he surveyed her insolently from head to toe, his eyes burning into her flesh wherever they touched.
"You want me, Lydia, you can't deny that." She had given his pride a body-blow, she reflected silently as she saw the mask of arrogant hauteur that clothed the handsome, harsh features.
"I've waited longer for you than I've ever waited for a woman before, and enough is enough."
If he took her like this, by force, he would never forgive himself.
The knowledge was there inside her. It would poison the rest of his life with an insidious toxic _contamination that he wouldn't be able to overcome.
He was a proud man but he wasn't sufficiently egocentric to excuse this outrage, once the furious rage and bitterness had died.
"Yes, I want you." She faced him, trembling and soft now, her eyes holding his, open and bare.
"I want you because I love you. Wolf, and you're right, it wouldn't be rape."
"You love me?" He shook his head angrily, his voice gritty.
"I've been told that before too."
"I don't doubt it." She stared back at him, conscious that she was laying herself wide open to the worst sort of pain and rejection.
"But not by me. I do love you, whether you believe it or not," she said quietly.
"I don't." But his eyes were stricken as they held hers. "I don't believe love is an emotion that really exists."
"Yes, you do," she said softly.
"No." He shook his head blindly, his eyes hardening. "Sex, lust, desire, those things are real and powerful and honest. You can dress them up as love but the end result is the same."
"Which is?"
"This." His mouth was angry and harsh as it ravaged hers, his arms like bands of steel as he held her so closely into his hard frame that she could feel his heart pounding like a sledge-hammer against the wall of his chest.
She didn't try to fight him, she was intuitive enough to know that any movement of her body would send them over the edge into brutal passion, and she had to convince him that her feeling for him was more than blind desire.
He probably wouldn't, couldn't, accept her love for him, but he had to know that in that alone she was different from all the rest. If she succumbed now, gave in to the fiery heat and sweet sensation that his _nearness produced, she would become just another name in his little black book. But it was hard, doubly so because she had no inner conviction that she could penetrate that cold, dark, outer shell to the real man she had glimpsed fleetingly. Maybe, if she hadn't lied, if he had taken the step of trusting her.
The feel and taste and intoxicating smell of him was becoming more than she could deny. She felt a moment's panic at her weakness, at the vulnerability her love for him had exposed. He would explain away her response as animal desire, she knew that, but it was becoming harder to remain cold and unresponsive in his arms.
His mouth had become more coaxing now, persuasive, moving to her throat and still lower in burning-hot, feathery kisses that lit little chills of fire wherever they touched. She moaned slightly, the sound escaping her lips in spite of herself, and heard a low growl of answering passion in the big body trapping hers. He was hugely aroused against her softness, his mouth ravaging the soft silky swell of her breasts as her blouse fell open under his insistent fingers.
She wasn't going to be able to stop this. As her hands moved up to his back, the hard swell of powerful muscles clenching as he felt her touch, she knew she was lost. She loved him too much. The thought brought a little sob to her lips. Too much to reach him.
She began to shake helplessly, the knowledge that she had capitulated swept away by a feverish hunger to become as one with this strange, cold man who had captured her heart and her mind and turned her body into liquid heat.
"My love, my love..." She wasn't aware she had murmured out loud, wasn't aware of the tears dampening her face, but suddenly he pushed her _from him with a g
roan that seemed wrenched out of the very depths of his body, and as she sank to the carpet, her legs refusing to support her, he stepped back a pace as though from something repugnant.
"You see?" He was panting hard, his face dark and ravaged by an emotion that caused the breath to constrict in her throat. He hated her. He was looking at her as though he hated her.