She recalled how he had kissed her when she had lived at Briarly. He had acted impulsively, his kiss evoked out of anger, but last night there had been something deliberate in his lovemaking which made her suspect this was the way he intended to go on. She attracted his senses now, more than his anger, and she didn't think he was a man who wholly denied himself in that direction.
As if he had been waiting for her, he came out of the house exactly as she arrived in the small car she had borrowed from Charles. She had passed her driving test in London, after what she considered must have been the fastest course ever with a good instructor, but she hadn't yet a car of her own.
'The car and the girl don't match,' he smiled, opening the door for her.
Her pulse rate flicked to medium fast, but she managed to stay composed. 'They aren't meant to,' she shrugged.
'Well worn and practical,' he patted the car bonnet, 'while you' re neither.'
'I'm not sure whether that's a compliment or an insult!' She pretended to look doubtful as she gazed at him.
It wasn't easy, in the face of Quentin's immediate impact, to carry on a light conversation. He was dressed, this morning, like herself, in casual jeans and a sweater, and she found it as difficult as she had done the previous evening to remove her eyes from his lean, well muscled figure.
'This is one of Grandfather's cars which he doesn't use very much,' she explained. 'He would like me to have one of my own, but I can't decide on the make. I don't know much about cars, but I suppose I'll have to make up my mind.'
'So what would you like? Something sporty?'
'I'm not sure,' she smiled wryly. 'I think I'm more interested in horses.'
His brows lifted. 'That's not news to me. You always have been.'
They made their way to the stables, after she had refused coffee. She had wanted to speak to Matthews and Mrs Worth, to say hello to the girls, but she supposed she would see them later.
They were mounted and away when she suddenly said, 'Grandfather has promised to get me a horse of my own as soon as possible, so I won't have to keep on coming here.'
'There's nothing to stop you.' Quentin's mouth tightened as he rode nearer her. 'A few minutes in a car. Why go to the expense?'
'It's something I've always wanted,' she protested, 'a horse of my own. You know it is?
'I have four here, Gina. They're all yours.'
'No, seriously…'
'I am serious.' He caught hold of her reins, making her halt, his eyes fixed on the glowing beauty of her face, with a hint of irony.
'Let's go on.' She stirred restively, her saddle leather creaking, unwilling to argue with him about it.
'Not until I've talked to you.' He ignored the swiftly imploring glance she gave him. 'If you have a horse of your own, you have to look after it, or pay someone else to do it, and it's expensive.'
Her green eyes changed aloofly, as she sensed criticism. 'My grandfather can afford it, I believe.'
Quentin seemed to hesitate before asking dryly, 'Are you sure? He must have spent quite a lot this last year, perhaps more than he could afford.'
'Well, I don't believe that!'
His voice was curt. 'Forget I mentioned it.'
Gina returned primly, 'I think we both should. My grandfather is a wealthy man.'
'Don't boast about it too much.'
Hating his advice, which she knew in her heart was good, she replied sharply, 'Oh, I know it's not the thing to boast about money, but I can't see any sense in not mentioning it at all. At least it's freed me from you. I expect it annoys you to find you have no hold over me any more.'
Anger glittered in his eyes but went just as quickly. 'Power doesn't always lie in money, my dear.' As colour stained her cheeks, he smiled enigmatically, 'Suppose we return to discussing horses? If you really want one of your own, I could let you have Leonie, the mare you're riding. She's always liked you, and when you're in London she could stay here, while you're away.'
'Why should I want to go to London?' she hedged, curiously reluctant to do as he suggested. 'We've only just left it.'
'You'll want to go occasionally, for different reasons. Shopping, getting your hair done—to see a show.'
'Will. I?'
'Of course you will. Don't be awkward. You can stay at your grandfather's house or my apartment, if you're in London alone.'
'Your apartment?' she queried.
'Yes. It will be convenient when I take you out. When we feel like something more than the kind of entertainment to be found around here.'
'I'll think about it,' she said, hunching her shoulders as she used to do when she had trailed behind Quentin and his friends, when she had worked for him.
'Don't do that!'
Hearing his impatient exclamation, Gina jerked upright, also as she had used to do when he spoke to her sharply.
She flung him an angry glance. 'I'm not your servant now, so you can stop shouting at me and ordering me about!'
'I'm not shouting, or trying to order you around, but,' his voice darkened menacingly, 'if you mention that period of your life again, I'll not be responsible.'
'Oh, let's gallop,' she cried, suddenly jerking her reins away from him as he bent threateningly nearer. The smouldering expression in his eyes made her nerves leap uncontrollably, but she managed to laugh lightly over her shoulder, 'It's too nice a morning to quarrel.'
They returned to a late lunch, Quentin, she considered, having kept her out longer than he should have done. They had found a pub and rested the horses while they went inside and drank cool lager in the dark old taproom. They hadn't talked much but Quentin's eyes had dwelt on her almost continually, and he hadn't attempted to disguise the fact that she intrigued him, and he was finding her more and more attractive.
It was the same later, after dinner, when Sir Charles was called to the telephone and Liza was called away as well. Gina had hoped vaguely that something might prevent Quentin from coming, but he turned up promptly at seven.
'I can't get over your changed appearance,' from his seat beside her on a satin brocaded sofa, he spoke lazily as the door closed behind Liza. 'You're so small, slender and graceful, all I want to do is look at you.'
'You've been doing that for the last hour,' Gina retorted, her heart not unaffected by his close regard. 'How can I be sure it's not a smut on my nose attracting your attention? Or perhaps,' she resorted to the flippancy which seemed her only defence against him, 'it's simply my new immaculateness you find so fascinating?'
He laughed, while for a moment she thought he was about to berate her for mentioning the past after having warned her not to. Then he stopped laughing and enlightened her soberly, 'I have seen you since you left, you know.'
'You have?' The breath left her throat in a gasp, because she could scarcely believe it.
He frowned, noting her surprise. 'You didn't think I wouldn't have to reassure myself you were all right?'
'Your conscience?' Her face fell.
'Call it what you like,' he said curtly.
'I don't know anything more charitable, not where you're concerned.'
'Gina!' his curt tone didn't alter, 'stop trying to be smart, it doesn't suit you. Not as much as your dress does.' There was a faint mockery in his face as he made a conscious effort to lighten the conversation.
'This is quite modest!' Immediately suspicious, on recalling his reactions to the little black dress she had worn at the party, she raised her eyes to him briefly, then just as quickly looked away. The concoction of frothy green chiffon she wore tonight was modest by comparison, but the colour flattered her skin and gave a wonderful sheen to her titian hair. She hadn't been aware of it until she saw the brief blaze in his grey eyes.
'Very modest in appearance,' he agreed ironically, 'if not in effect.' His eyes lingered broodingly on the smooth column of her throat before slipping further to where her skin gleamed palely through the vee of the fragile bodice. 'I've caught glimpses of you from time to time,' h
e confessed unexpectedly, 'but it didn't completely prepare me for the change in you.' His dark brows lifted slightly as her eyes widened. 'Did you ever think of me at all, Gina, while you were away? Or, what's probably more important, how do you see me, now that you're back?'
'Much as I always did.' Agonisingly aware of him, she sought to conceal it under an indifferent shrug, refusing to confess he was the only man she ever really saw. This would give him power over her, and her new freedom wasn't to be sacrificed so lightly.
Suddenly he pulled her ruthlessly to him, as though determined to find more satisfactory answers another way. As they came stormily together, he bent his head, kissing her with a demanding intensity, his arms locked around her tightly. Once again Gina knew a surge of strange wild excitement, but terrified of what her lips might reveal, she resisted him stiffly.
Her resistance appeared to annoy him, turning a mild frustration into something tinged with violence. It only lasted a few moments, but when he released her, her mouth was bruised and sore, her whole body shaking, on fire. Only her voice was cold, and even that trembled.
'Is this some new form of the punishment you were always so good at dispensing?'
'I could smack you for that,' he said ominously. 'But if you think it's wrong to want someone, it proves you're still innocent. I could teach you a lot—if you were mine it would be easy.'
'Total possession? It seems to be a hobby of yours!' she retorted scornfully, trying to steady her voice. 'Once I saw you in Rome, with a lovely Italian countess, and you seemed to have that in mind.'
'You saw me?' His eyes narrowed in slight surprise.
'In a newspaper picture,' she confessed.
'I thought as much,' his smile was cruel. 'Photographs are notorious for giving the wrong impression. I've almost forgotten her name.'
'But she mightn't yours.'
Quentin shrugged his broad shoulders, but Charles and Liza were back, leaving Gina to guess what Quentin's answer might have been.
The next morning she rode and lunched with him again, and this became a routine which she found herself sticking to. Sometimes she came over early and they went out together before Quentin went off to London, but occasionally she went to Briarly later, deliberately to avoid seeing him. Yet when her grandfather proposed doing something definite about getting her her own horse, she put him off with an excuse, saying she hadn't made up her mind as to what she wanted.
She knew she was using Quentin's horses as an excuse for seeing so much of him, but, while feeling ashamed of herself, she couldn't resist the temptation. He was too much of a challenge, he aroused in her feelings which were hard to define but equally hard to ignore. Neither could she tell, on his part, whether it was conscience over the past or plans for the future that was driving him. She did know, though, that although he hadn't touched her again since the night he had dined at Bourne Court, the darkness of his eyes often made her shiver with a strange feeling of anticipation.
He was angry when she had dinner with Richard Hedley, and even more so when she went out with Felix Duke. She had been seeing quite a lot of Felix. It was remarkable, but each time she was riding alone he had a habit of appearing from nowhere. He took her back to his home for coffee and his mother was charming to her. Then twice he had asked her out for dinner and dancing and she had accepted. After the last occasion Quentin found out.
'Why go with him and not me?' he snapped.
'You never mentioned anything but London,' she replied, equally sharp.
'Which isn't a thousand miles away! I didn't press you because I thought you wanted time to settle down.'
'Who told you about Felix?' she asked, her heart beating unevenly at his anger.
'Never mind,' his voice chilled as he watched the colour flare under her soft, petal-like skin. 'It's true, I suppose?'
'Quentin!' her voice was faintly incredulous. 'You don't own me. I can go out with whom I like.'
'Of course you can,' he was utterly reasonable, 'but why break hearts? Duke happens to be in love with you, and you'll never love him.'
'How do you know?' She glared at him, hating the confident note in his voice so much that she added coldly, 'Do I have to be in love with a man before I go out with him?'
'In some cases, no,' he agreed tightly.
'Besides,' she looked away, 'it was something to do.'
'Why don't you get yourself a job if you're bored?'
'I could do.'
'No,' he hesitated, his voice still grim, 'I don't think it's such a good idea. It might be better if you came up to London for a few days. You could lunch with me and I'd take you out in the evenings. Charles and Liza won't mind, Liza might even care to come with you and leave Charles to get his year's absence sorted out in peace.'
It was tempting, not because Gina particularly wanted to go to London just now, but the thought of wining and dining and dancing with Quentin was too attractive to be denied. Yet she felt nervous of committing herself. She sensed he was attracted to a certain extent and while she had thought to use this attraction to punish him, each day her serious doubts that she could handle such a situation were growing. She might be safer here than in London, at present. It could be easier to retreat.
'Liza has an appointment at the end of the month,' she said, pretending his mention of Liza had reminded her. 'I think I'll wait until then. I'm only just beginning to get to know Bourne Court.'
If she had been quite honest she would have said she was more absorbed in renewing her acquaintance with Briarly. Quentin's mother had returned and she often had coffee with her in the mornings, after she had been out riding. Matthews, to Gina's secret amusement, couldn't do enough for her, but in spite of his former disapproval, she had always liked him and never reminded him of the days when he had scorned her. Mrs Worth and the girls also seemed dazzled by the new Gina, but she hoped they didn't believe she had changed all that much.
Mrs Hurst, while seeming appreciative of her changed appearance, was wary of her. Gina sensed this, yet was unable to guess why. Not until Blanche Edgar was mentioned, one day, did she recall how Mrs Hurst had once nursed certain hopes in that direction, and possibly, if mistakenly, considered Gina something of a threat.
'I think she would make Quentin an admirable wife,' Mrs Hurst smiled, when Gina asked frankly why she hadn't seen Blanche at Briarly since she had come back. Quentin had said nothing to her and she hadn't asked him, fearing he might think her jealous, especially after the way she had spoken of Blanche at Bourne Court.
'Doesn't Quentin think so, too?' She tried to keep her voice light.
His mother frowned uncertainly. 'He does seem extremely fond of her. I know he's been seeing quite a lot of her, but now that she's working in London I'm not so sure.'
'No Blanche!' he had stated, and so emphatically, as if she had no part in his life any more. Who did he think he was fooling? 'Perhaps they're just good friends,' she suggested sweetly.
'They did seem more than that,' Mrs Hurst sighed. 'I can't understand what's happened.'
Gina smiled and wished she didn't feel so sick. 'Blanche could have changed her mind. Why does she work in London?'
An expression of fleeting distaste crossed Mrs Hurst's face. 'Her father died and C.T.T. hit the family hard. Blanche had to find something. Her brother and his wife still carry on, but they're having a struggle.'
So Quentin hadn't been telling the whole truth about Blanche. He had used his deviousness to give the wrong impression. Gina was swamped by a wave of scorn. He must realise Blanche was in love with him and he went on seeing her, without having any intention, apparently, of marrying her. For surely if he had he would have asked her before now? She recalled how he used to take Blanche out—stroll with her in the gardens—take her riding. What had happened? Surely the worsening of Blanche's family fortunes hadn't influenced him? Quentin must have more than enough of his own.
One morning Quentin rang her early to tell her that as Jenkins, the groom, was takin
g a day or two off to attend to some personal matters, he wouldn't be there if she needed any assistance.
'I'd rather you stayed away until he gets back,' he said. 'I don't like you riding when there's no one around.'
'How do you think I used to manage?' she asked coolly, wriggling into the nightdress she had discarded during the night.
'What on earth are you doing?' he enquired tersely, as the line crackled and her voice faded. 'Gina! Are you still there?'
'I'm only putting my nightdress on before Betty arrives with my tea,' she choked unthinkingly, emerging suffocatingly from clouds of clinging silk.
'Don't you sleep in it?' He sounded faintly amused, yet his voice deepened in a way which sent her pulses suddenly racing.
'Not always.' She wished she hadn't mentioned it. 'I couldn't sleep last night, it was so hot.'
'Perhaps I could help there.'
The colour flamed in her cheeks so warmly, she was glad he couldn't see. He spoke so evenly, without a hint of innuendo, that he could easily have been thinking of hot milk.
Quickly she reverted to the stables, agreeing with apparent meekness, 'I might take your advice and not come over today. I do have other things to do.'
'Have you?' Quentin paused, and when she didn't reply, said, 'I wish I had nothing else to do but satisfy my curiosity. Unfortunately I have to fly to Paris this morning.'
'Will I see you later?' she asked, oddly breathless.
'You might,' he replied doubtfully, leaving her wondering whether he intended spending his evening in Paris, or with Blanche in London as he rang off.
When she got down to really thinking about it, Gina changed her mind about staying away from the stables, feeling quite excited at the unexpected chance of having them completely to herself. But as she had promised to go out with Liza that morning, she didn't get over to Briarly until after lunch.
There wasn't anything to do. As it was summer, Jenkins had simply turned the horses out in the nearby paddock, where they looked so content in the sunshine that Gina changed her mind about going riding. It was after three and she felt hot and a little tired from a morning spent shopping with an indefatigable Liza, who had relentlessly attempted to track down something which in the end had proved unobtainable. She wouldn't have bothered to come to Briarly today if Jenkins hadn't been away and she hadn't been able to resist the opportunity of spending an hour here on her own.
The Loving Slave Page 10