The Loving Slave

by Margaret Pargeter

  Staring at him, she was aware that her deepening colour must be defeating her efforts to appear more so­phisticated than she actually was. And she hated to think she was giving him a chance of amusing himself at her expense. He possessed a sexy, animal-like magnetism, controlled though it might be, which she had never been so completely conscious of before. In vain she tried to remember clearly how she had felt a year ago when he had kissed her, yet this didn't stop her from wondering how she would feel if he should kiss her again. He at­tracted her, as she supposed he must attract many women, and every instinct warned her to flee.

  Inwardly she despaired of her own cowardly tremors. Why should she run from Quentin Hurst? He still at­tracted her, but she was older now, well able to fight him—or to play with a little fire without getting burnt. Old enough, surely, to be able to appreciate an attractive man without falling head over heels in love with him. Frowning, her eyes lingered on the steely strength of his fine, well cared for hands, which lightly gripped his glass of whisky. His cuffs were immaculate and there was a dark sprinkling of hairs on his wrist. Suddenly all her confidence left her.

  Wishing, too late, that she had dressed in something different, she exclaimed jerkily, 'You don't think I look young and innocent any more?'

  His smile was derisive, really an answer in itself. 'You still look young, and you're beautiful, but I don't know about innocent. Are you?'

  'Nothing like being blunt, is there?' she tossed at him. 'Do you really care? What would you like me to say?'

  He laughed. 'Suppose you say nothing. Let me find out for myself. I like mystery.'

  'Only if you're able to solve it?'

  'Eventually. Anything wrong with that?'

  Her eyes flashed at his arrogance. 'Most men, I be­lieve, lose interest at that stage.'

  'Try me?' he said, so softly teasing that she blushed.

  'I'd be a fool if I had anything to do with you,' she sighed.

  'You don't sound convinced.'

  'There's Blanche.'

  'No Blanche.'

  Excitement stirred within her, her heart beginning to beat faster, as his hand curved shamelessly over her bare arm, like a caress. Then her grandfather was there, asking Quentin proudly what he thought of Gina now. Listening to his amusingly flattering reply, Gina realised he knew all the answers, but then he was no gauche youth to be stammering under Charles's steely regard. He had charm, a very potent kind of charm which, in spite of her former bravado, might be better left alone.

  After a few minutes she murmured an excuse and turned away.

  He caught her up. 'Why don't you come with me and see Hector. I still have him.'

  'What, now?'

  'I can see he means more to you than I do,' correctly he interpreted the brightening of her eyes. 'Go and put a coat on. For my peace of mind, not the cold,' he grinned, for the night was warm. 'I'll make your excuses. Most people are leaving, anyway.'

  'I'd rather not.'

  His face darkened. 'You'll do as I say.'

  The cheek of him! Just as he used to be! How could he expect her to desert her party just like that?

  'Refuse and I'll drag you out.'

  'You're starting as you mean to go on?'

  'Yes, you bad-tempered little redhead!' Quentin took no notice of her sarcastic tones as he pushed her out of the room towards the stairs. 'I'll meet you at the back door in exactly three minutes, then everyone will think this has all been too much for you and you've gone to bed.'

  Gone to bed, indeed! She wanted to refuse, but Quen­tin and Hector, together, proved too tempting a com­bination. It was still early and there was nothing else to do but go to bed. Inside her was an irresistible longing to see Briarly again, which she suspected Quentin had astutely guessed. She had been homesick for it for a long, long time.

  All the same, not wishing to give Quentin the impres­sion that she couldn't wait, she sat silently beside him, not speaking until they were there.

  'What's wrong?' He spoke sharply, as they turned into the drive at Briarly, leaving the main road.

  'I don't know. Perhaps it's too soon to come back?'

  'Ruthless therapy can be best.'

  'You think I'm in need of—therapy? You believe there's something I should get out of my system?'

  'Quite a lot, as a matter of fact.'

  Gina slanted a smouldering glance at the hard line of his jaw. 'For whose convenience, I wonder?'

  His mouth quirked. 'You could make a start on all that resentment.'

  Hating his shrewdness, she deliberately chose to mis­understand. 'It wasn't nice to drag me away from my first party'

  'But then you never considered me a very nice person,' he retorted indifferently. 'You're already convinced I'm not.'

  It had to slip out. 'You did your best to convince me, when I worked here.'

  'You don't work for me now.'

  So he didn't intend to discuss it. 'I'm only beginning to realise the difference this is going to make,' she rejoined smartly.

  'When I asked you here tonight, it wasn't a licence to say what you like,' he said suavely, 'so be careful.'

  'You don't change, do you?' she muttered sullenly, as they drew up outside the house.

  'Maybe it's just as well.' He switched off the engine smoothly. 'I believe you've been subject to too much change in the past year. Your grandfather meant well, but it's left you as mixed up as ever.'

  'How?'

  'Once you were frightened of the past, now it's the future,' he returned cryptically, as he drew her from the car and steered her gently towards the stables, his hand on her arm no less possessive than it had been in her grandfather's house.

  It was like going back in time, and she felt a lump in her throat. Everything was in the right place—the house, the trees with their wavering shadows, the gardens, the huge old stone buildings behind them. Even the woods were still there, Quentin mustn't have had them cut down. With a slight shiver Gina wondered about the cot­tage, but she didn't ask. She couldn't plunge back into the past too quickly.

  She confined her curiosity to less important things. 'Do you have the same groom?'

  'Yes.'

  'And your mother, did she find another girl?'

  'Eventually. But she's middle-aged, rather than young, and she's having a few days off while my mother is away.'

  Quentin opened the stable door for her and for a guilty instant she wondered if anyone had ever found the key she had hidden among her belongings. Possibly someone had returned it to him when her things had been cleared out.

  To her delight Hector recognised her. 'At least I think he does!' she exclaimed as she hugged him, turning a sud­denly radiant face towards Quentin.

  'While I'm relieved to see that something about Briarly still pleases you, it's not doing your fur coat any good,' he pointed out dryly.

  Flushing, she drew back. 'I suppose you're referring to my old habits? You were forever telling me I looked untidy.'

  He frowned, then smiled mildly. 'And you were always too sensitive, guaranteed to react. Let's go back to the house for some coffee.'

  She didn't argue, although she felt she should have gone straight back to Bourne Court. It was getting late, but she seemed unable to resist any suggestion made by Quentin this evening. Besides, she was curious.

  'Do you realise,' she said coolly, 'it's the first time I've been here as a guest?'

  'Must you constantly harp back to the past?' he asked impatiently.

  'No,' she replied, wondering how he could expect her to forget it. Surely he didn't suppose she could wipe out almost eighteen years of her life. She recalled how he used to treat her, his brutal, often callous remarks. If he had never actually hurt her physically, he had wounded her feelings time and time again. And now he asked her to forget it! No—he expected her to forget it. Fretfully she sighed, owning that it might be wiser to, and childish not to. Yet it was difficult not to remember that while all she had craved was a little sympathy and understanding, all
she had received was cruel indifference. For one kind word from him, then, she would have given anything. Now, when it appeared he was ready to bestow much more than kindness, she wasn't sure if she wanted any­thing from him at all.

  'Is Matthews still here?' As they went through to the drawing-room, she looked about her.

  'He is, but I told him not to wait up.'

  'Nothing's changed.'

  'Not even you, only your looks, so don't sound so tragic' Quentin began filling coffee cups from a hot flask, his hands steady, his voice clipped. 'How do you like it? Black or white?'

  It seemed another indication of past neglect that he didn't know. 'White,' she said tonelessly.

  His grey eyes flickered and his mouth tightened, as if he restrained another curt retort. Lifting a mocking eye­brow, he passed her her coffee. 'How do you like being an heiress?' he asked, changing the subject.

  'I'm not sure .. .' Eagerly she turned to him, as she had often done in the old days, when she had quickly forgotten each new grievance. 'I'm not sure how I feel, Quentin. Not much different, I'm afraid.'

  'Why afraid?' He moved his dark head slightly back to look at her. 'Did you expect to be different almost over­night?'

  A sigh left her lips as she stared down at her coffee. 'I've been away over a year.'

  'I know.'

  Did his grimness mean he wished she hadn't come back? 'I've seen a lot of places. I've met men…'

  'Many?'

  'Quite a few,' she tried to be truthful. 'I liked a distant cousin in Paris very much, but his friends were very so­phisticated.' She glanced up with a wry smile, meeting Quentin's narrowed eyes. 'I tried to be like them, but I don't know if I succeeded.'

  He laughed. Coming across to her, he drew her slowly to her feet, placing her empty cup to one side. 'If I were you, Gina, I'd forget about the year you've been away. I can't see any problems. You're young and beautiful and grown up at last. Why not forget about all these other men you've met and concentrate solely on me?'

  CHAPTER SIX

  GASPING a little at his audacity, Gina felt her heartbeats quicken as Quentin pulled her closer. Why was he asking such things of her? He certainly had no right to any of her time, never mind all of it. As for suggesting she should concentrate on him, he would soon tire of her if she did.

  'Why the sudden change of heart?' She asked coolly. 'You never noticed me before, or showed any great desire for my company.'

  'You never looked as you do now, before,' he said hus­kily. 'Outwardly you aren't the same girl, inwardly I hope you haven't changed too much. When you lived here we didn't always agree, but the few times I had you in my arms I didn't want to let you go. You must have known that.'

  'All I remember was you couldn't push me away quick enough.'

  'I thought I frightened you?'

  'Yes,' her green eyes widened with a sense of injury, 'you did.'

  'Try a little harder,' he taunted. 'You felt something, I'm certain.'

  'If I did,' she lied, 'I can't recall it.'

  'You need reminding?'

  Before she could escape he lowered his head, tilting up her rounded chin at the same time. Firmly his mouth came down over hers as she stared irresolutely up at him. His mouth was cool but possessive, quite unyielding. Bewildered, Gina closed her eyes, but not before she had seen the grey of his turn almost to black.

  As his lips touched hers she felt a rush of sensation that immediately took her back to the night of the storm by the lake, only this was a storm of a different kind. This one dredged up memories, tossing them at her, ruthlessly whirling the past into the present until she knew the months between might never have been.

  Quentin had relieved her of her coat in the hall and the black dress proved no obstacle to his searching hands. As the pressure of his mouth deepened and reality faded, she felt him pushing the silky material from her shoulders and his hands closing over her taut breasts. She could feel the strength of his fingers, their tight grip on her warm skin and gave an inarticulate little moan, her lips parting helplessly under his as passion rose hotly between them.

  'Please don't,' she whispered, shivering in his grasp as his mouth left hers to slowly follow the direction of his hands, trailing sensuously over her, until she cried out.

  Her protest must have been a mistake. It brought his head up, but his lips hardened as he began kissing her mouth again, not apparently caring if he hurt her. Gina had a curious feeling of floating helplessly in space. Wildly she found herself clutching Quentin's broad shoul­ders, as if to keep from falling, as a shaft of piercing, lightning-like sensation rendered her limbs incapable of supporting her.

  Then, as though he considered he had inflicted suffici­ent punishment, he ended the kiss with a mutter of satis­faction, staring down at the light perspiration on her face. 'That night by the lake,' he said thickly, 'I almost made love to you.'

  Her voice croaked. 'You did.'

  'Not properly, but you were a great temptation. I could never remember wanting anything so much. You were so small, yet your body fitted into mine perfectly, if not just quite near enough. You're still small and beauti­fully made, and when I kiss you I find I want you as much as ever.'

  'For heaven's sake!' She was trembling, but made her­self exclaim, 'Do we have to be so dramatic? What's a kiss?'

  Tightly he replied, as if her flippancy didn't please him, 'I can't answer that, not now. I thought I knew.'

  Her heart jerked at his grimness, but she drew back, refusing to weaken. 'You've spoilt a pleasant evening.'

  'Spoiled?' His face reddened slightly, and Gina was pleased she could get under his skin. It gave her a faint sense of power. Suddenly, the thoughts of revenge that had persisted vaguely at the back of her mind didn't seem so impossible any more. On the other hand, Quentin too might be seeking revenge for the bother she had caused him while he had been forced to employ her. His kisses had the flavour of it; certainly they had held little ten­derness.

  'I've got used to a more refined approach,' she re­turned his gaze frostily, as she adjusted her dress with shaking fingers, not telling him he was the first, the only man, she had allowed to touch her so intimately. 'You still feel you own me, Quentin.'

  'I intend to,' he rasped harshly, his eyes glittering. 'And before anyone else gets in.'

  'Like you do in business?'

  'You nasty little bitch!'

  'I can see why you're still unmarried, if that's a sample of the endearments you use!' Her green eyes darkened scornfully. 'I'd like to go home, please.'

  'It might be a good idea. I thought you'd grown up?'

  'You thought I'd be ready to fall into your arms, have an affair with you.'

  'You could do worse,' he drawled.

  'That's a matter of opinion.' Again she felt she was being childish, but she couldn't fight Quentin on his own grounds. She was too inexperienced, both verbally and physically, to compete. So she could only stick to the kind of retort which seemed, at least, to make him angry. As he put her back in his car, she wondered if she would ever see him again, and was surprised, at Bourne Court, when he asked her to return next day to Briarly, to ride with him.

  'Tomorrow's Saturday, so I'm not going to London. If you come about ten?'

  Gina was startled yet strangely relieved. 'I'd like to,' she confessed honestly, 'but I think I should ask Grand­father and Aunt Liza first. They might have made other plans.'

  'Gina,' Quentin looked down on her firmly, 'they've had you a whole year.'

  'Oh,' she drew a deep breath as he searched her face, 'neither of them is that possessive. They like me to have friends, but we've just got—er—home,' why did she find it so difficult to call any place but Briarly home? Know­ing a surge of resentment because of this, she added, 'And Grandfather might consider you're too old for me.'

  Quentin didn't argue about this. 'Liza has already asked me to dine tomorrow, here, which must be a sign of approval. If I promise to bring you back after lunch I'm sure Charles won't
protest too much.'

  Gina bit her lip. His voice was dry and he was going too fast for her. While she wanted to go to Briarly she had no wish to be swept off her feet. 'I'm not sure,' she hes­itated.

  'Of course you are,' he grinned, taking her consent for granted, as with a casual wave he roared back down the road, without waiting for her reply.

  Everyone had gone to bed, which increased her feelings of guilt. The clock in the hall was only chiming one as she went upstairs, but she still felt she ought to have been earlier. She hadn't intended staying out so long and blamed Quentin. She fell asleep thinking about him, arguing with herself that he was dangerous and better left alone, while her less sensible self whispered that there could be no harm in seeing him one more time.

  When she came down to breakfast she apologised for going out and for being late in. Then she asked if they would mind if she went riding with Quentin.

  If anything her grandfather looked relieved, and Liza said it was all right by her, she was having coffee with a friend. 'Although I did half promise to bring you with me,' she glanced at Gina, teasing lightly. 'Rebecca was enchanted with you at the party last night and has an unmarried son.'

  'It was a lovely party,' Gina smiled gratefully.

  'You looked beautiful, we were very proud of you, weren't we?' Liza turned to Charles, who agreed.

  'I have a lot to see to, this morning,' he said ruefully, after they had discussed the party a little more. 'Comes of being away so long, so it's just as well you've both got something to do.'

  'Can't I stay and help?' Gina offered immediately, but he refused.

  'Off you go and enjoy yourself,' he smiled. 'You're only young once and I'm sure you'll be safe with Quentin.'

  How safe was she with Quentin? The question teased Gina all the way to Briarly, bringing with it alternate waves of apprehension and indignation mixed with ex­citement. No one but the two of them knew what had gone before. Quentin had been part of her life, part of her growing up, the man responsible for her somewhat abrupt transition from a young girl into a woman. Did he want now to take her further?