However, it wasn't the ring she was hinking of, as she felt the warmth of his breath against her skin, his lips seductively probing her palm as he uncurled her fingers.
'Was it something importent, Beverley?' he asked without lifting his eyes from Kirsty's face.
'Because if not . . .'
The tinkling laugh sounded as brittle as shards of glass to Kirsty's sensitive ears.
'Darling, you're hardly tactful,' Beverley complained. 'What I actually came here for was to return this.'
'This' was a key-the key she had used to unlock the door, Kirsty presumed, thus making it very plain that she had a perfect right to walk in and out of Drew's house whenever she chose. 'I shall hardly need it now,' she added pointedly.
Drew pocketed it without a word, but Kirsty was aware that he looked oddly pale beneath his tan, and she sensed that he was inwardly far from being as calm as he appeared as he escorted Beverley to the door and coolly closed it after her.
'She wanted me to know that she had a key to this house,' was all Kirsty could think of to say in the silence that followed the roar of her car's exhaust.
'You realise that, do you? Then we're making progress.' Beneath the sardonic tone, Kirsty sensed that he was bitterly angry, although she couldn't understand why. Surely the mere fact that Beverly had wanted her to know about the key proved that she was far from indifferent to him?
'You wanted to talk to me about Hero,' she reminded him hastily.
'Did I?' His mouth was wry. 'Somehow it had gone out of my mind. We'll talk about it another time, Kirsty,' he told her heavily. 'I've only got so much self-control, and I can't guarantee there's enough of it left to get us both unmaimed through even another hour together right now, so I'm going to take you home.'
He did so, in a silence that seemed thick with tension. What was he thinking about? Kirsty wondered, stealing a glance at his forbidding profile. Since they had returned from York he seemed to have changed; to have withdrawn into himself. Because Beverley had returned his key to him, no doubt, she thought tiredly. Her head ached, and she could hardly bear to glance at the glitter of gold and diamonds on her left hand. It seemed a sacrilege that such a beautiful thing hould represent so hollow an alliance.
The Porsche came to a halt outside her bedsit. She tugged ineffectually at her seatbelt, shrinking when Drew pushed her hands away, cursing as he released it.
'Oh, for God's sake don't look at me like that!' he snapped harshly. 'You're supposesd to be engaced to me, remember? Even timid virgins are allowed to look at their fiances with something approaching desire-when you look at me it's either with fear or loathing. You're an actress, Kirsty,' he reminded her goadingly, 'and a good one, or so you tell me. Prove it to me now, and kiss me as though you were my fiancee!'
'Why? she managed shakily. 'We haven't got an audience.'
'Ever heard of rehearsals?' Drew asked sardonically. 'And God knows, you need the practice.'
This last taunt was too much. Too furious to think logically, Kirsty slid her hands upwards over his chest, lifting her eyes to meet his.
'Good,' he told her, 'but not good enough. We're engaged, remember? We're already lovers, or so they think. And we're alone. I've just given you my ring. You're an actress, Kirsty, remember?'
And all at once she did. She wasn't Kirsty Stannard any longer, but the girl Drew had just described, free to experience all those weak, melting sensations curling insidiously through her stomach, sending her pulse rate sky-high as she lifted her hands to Drew's shoulders, caressing the smooth flesh-covered muscles. her lips trembling as she touched them to his throat, feeling the roughness of his jaw against her skin as his arms closed round her and his lips met hers in a kiss of sensual sweetness that swept aside all her preconceived ideas of what a kiss should be.
Certainly she had never, ever, experienced before this yielding tide of emotion; this need to press ever closer to Drew's body, her own moulding itself instinctively to his hardness, her fears forgotten in the headiness of what she was experiencing.
It wasn't until two boys cycled past the car, whistling appreciatively, that she came to, jerking herself out of Drew's arms with a shocked protest and wrenching open the car door before he could speak.
Acting! That was what she was supposed to have been doing, but only she knew how precious little acting ability it had taken to respond so passionately to Drew's touch.
The realisation came as she climbed the stairs to her room. She had fallen in love with Drew.
It ought to have been impossible, but somehow she had-against all the odds-managed it. She tried to convince herself that it wasn't true, that she was suffering from some strange delusion, but the truth once admitted would would not be banished.
ln the gathering dusk she sat completely motionless staring out of the window, trying to come to terms with the enormity of this fictitious engagement before Drew discovered the truth. It would be like being flayed alive, she thought helplessly. She couldn't endure it-no one could, not knowing all the time that he loved Beverley and was simply using her to punish Beverly and bring her to heel.
With almost feverish intensity she tried to formulate some sort of plan of escape.
The telephone rang. She picked up the receiver and heard Give Richmond's voice on the other end.
'A few of are getting together at my place to go over our parts. Do you fancy coming round? I'm providing the supper, visitors provide the booze. How about it?'
All at once it sounded just what Kirsty wanted-the same sort of complicated, pleasant evening she had enjoyed so often at college.
'I'll be round in half an hour.' she promised, her spirits suddenly lightening. For this evening, she would put Drew and her love for him out of her mind.
It took her just over half an hour to reach the address he had given her. She had been delayed by Mrs Cummings whom she had met in the hallway, and explained briefly to her where she was going.
Clive opened the door to her ring. Behind him Kirsty could see into the room, smaller and untidier than her own and lacking its cheerful warmth.
'Rafe and Cherry have just nipped down to the pub,' he greeted her, the others will be along shortly. Come on in.'
As far as Kirsty could see no attempts had been made to get any supper ready, and remembering her student days, she guessed that that task would fall to the girls when they all arrived.
Clive accepted the bottle of Plonk she proffered and poured them both a glass.
'Make yourself at home,' he told her, gesturing to the lumpy settee taking up most of the room.
A dog-eared copy of the play had been tossed carelessly on to the floor, and Kirsty picked it up and started to read absently from it as Clive closed the curtains and turned off the main lights. With just the glow from the electric fire and the lamps behind them, the untidiness of the room looked less obvious. Clive put a tape in the cassette machine on the floor, and the sound of Dr Hook began to fill the room.
Kirsty, listened appreciatively, making no objection when Clive joined her on the settee.
'How come you get such a juicy part, when a man of my many and varied talents only gets Borachio?' he demanded mock- indignantly.
Kirsty pretended to consider the matter, her head on one side, the dark richness of her curls flatteringly framed by the plum-coloured jumper she was wearing over her jeans. 'You're not pretty enough for Hero?' she ventured at last.
'And our revered director certainly doesn't fancy me,' he agreed. 'By the way, do you know he was dining with the Baileys tonight? And that Beverley was joining them?
'I don't own him,' she managed at last, unwilling to admit to the searing jealousy she was experiencing. By the time tonight was over would Beverley be in possession of the key to Drew's house once more?
'He isn't worth it.' She realised that Clive was watching her so closely. 'Besidesy what's sauce for the goose . . .'
'Isn't it time the others started to arrive?' Kirsty asked to change the subject, glancing
at her watch as she did so. 'It's getting quite late- there won't be much time left to do any work.'
'They'll be here soon,' Clive told her carelessly. 'And as for work, Drew will make sure none of us slack on that I should have got Claudio,' he told her. My agent told me I'd as good as got the part, until your precious fiance poked his nose in where it wasn't wanted and told Simon he didn't think I'd got the experience. He obviously thinks you've got the experience,' he told Kirsty with a silky vehemence that sounded warning bells in her brain. 'Have you, Kirsty?'
'Not really.' She edged away from him.
'Oh, come on, don't give me that. Drew Chalmers is no fool. You can't be the little innocent you look. We could have fun together, you and Im Kirsty-you know that, don't you? We're one of a kind.'
Were they? Somehow Kirsty didn't think so. Cherry had warned her about Clive, but she had chosen to ignore her, thinking she could use him for her own ends. She had an uncomfortable feeling that she had bitten off more than she could chew. She didn't like the look in his eyes or the way he was smiling.
It came to her on a sudden rush of distaste that he wxpected her to cheat on Drew and that while he would do everything he could to encourage her, she was shallow and vain and totally without any substance for anyone to rely on. It was an unpleasant shock to realise how close she had been to allying herself to him, and she admitted tacitly that she would not now go through with her plan to use him to force Drew into abandoning their engagement. She would have to find another way; a way that did not leave her feeling as though she had failed her own high standards.
'I think I'd better be going,' she told him quickly. 'It's getting late, will you apologise for me to the others?'
'What others?' All at once the veneer of good humour was gone. 'Don't play games with me, Kirsty. We both know the ground rules. There never was anyone else-just the two of us, and that's the way we both wanted it, umm?' His fingers were moving up her arm as he spoke and Kirsty had to fight hard against a shudder of revulsion.
'You're wrong,' she told him firmly. 'I had no idea. I'm engaged to Drew-remember?'
She hated herself for the weak way she fell back on the protection of Drew's name; Drew's ring, glittering fierily on her finger.
'Sure I do,' Clive sneered. 'But we're both adults-you weren't thinking too much about Drew Chalmers on Sunday afternoon. Come on Kirsty,' he wheedled, 'what's the harm?'
'The harm is that I'm engaged to someone else,' Kirsty told him. 'I'm sorry, Clive, but I honestly thought the others would be here.' She got up as she spoke, heading for the door,but Clive was there before her, his expression bitter as he grasped her arms, swinging her round to face him.
'You're a cheat, Kirsty.' There was an ugly look in his eyes, and a frisson of fear shot through her. 'But no one cheats me!'
Kirsty struggled to avoid the angry pressure of his mouth, , flinching as he lost his temper with her, bruising the soft skin of her face as she tried to avoid his blow. He released her almost immediatelt, eyes narrowed as she tremble convulsively in front of him.
'Don't try running to Drew Chalmers with this,' he warned her softly. 'I'll tell him that you came here of your own free will. lt's surprising how easily soft skin bruises-as I'm sure he already knows.' His mouth twisted mockingly, and Kirsty was not surprised to discover that she was still trembling when she reached her car.
She seemed to have matured immeasurably in a short handful of hours; first the discovery of her love for Drew, and then learning that sometimes safety came at too high a price. Her own self- respect refused to allow her to stoop to Clive Richmond's level, and she knew she would rather endure a thousand engagements to Drew in preference to encouraging Clive to believe that she would welcome a sordid affair with him behind Drew's back.
She inspected her face in her driving mirror before driving off. The skin along her cheekbone was alread discolouring. There was a scratch on her throat just above the line of her jumper-she remembered tugging at it-and her bottom lip looked swollen and sore. Swallowing her distaste, ahe wished she had brought some make-up with her, but she rarely wore more than a touch of eyershadow, mascara, and lip-gloss, and it would take more than those to disguise her bruises. At least she would be able to conceal them before she had to face the others at rehearsal tomorrow. Heavens, she was a fool! She might have guessed that Clive had no intention of asking the others, No wonder he had refused to believe her!
She did her best during the drive back to compose herself, but it wasn't easy. She wasn't going to overreact and assume that Clive had deliberately meant to hurt her, but she had found the experience both humiliating and degrading, and she had probably learned a valuable lesson from it, she admitted wryly, as she parked her car and slid her key into the lock.
Although it wasn‘t particularly late the house was in darkness apart from the single lamp glowing in her window, which she had left switched on when coming out. Mrs Cummings, she remembered, had said she was going out to visit her sister.
Never had the thought of the solitude of her own room been so welcome. She intended to have a bath and then go straight to bed. She was completely drained both mentally and physically.
Her door opened smoothly as she inserted her key, and she stepped into the small foyer. Her bruised face had started to throb painfully and she felt grubby and contaminated somehow by the ugly scene she had experienced. She would not be so naive another time, and she certainly intended to give Clive Richmond a wide berth from now on.
She pushed open the door and stepped into the warm pool of light cast by the lamp, freezing to the spot as Drew uncoiled his lean frame from her settee.
'Mrs Cummings let me in,' he told her calmly, his expression suddenly changing as he saw her face. 'My God, what. . . .'
'I don't want to talk about it,' Kirsty told him jerkily. 'Pease leave. I don't know what you're doing here anyway. Clive told me that Beverley was visiting the Baileys tonight.'
'Clive told you?' He pounced a bitterly cynical expression in his eyes as he looked again at her bruised face. 'And Cllve did this to you, did he? A rough lover, I take it!'
The contempt in his eyes was like a lash on already torn skin, but Kirsty refused to give in to the weak desire to burst into tears, instead saying challengingly, 'And what if he is? What business is it of yours?'
He reached for her hand before she could stop him, turning it palm down so that the lamplight glittered on her ring.
'I should have thought this made it pretty much my business,' he told her, indicating the ring, 'and the fact that Clive chose to ignore is is hardly a good character reference-just the opposite. He's the type of man who enjoys stealing from others.'
His assessment was so correct that she was left speechless.
'Did he, Kirsty?' Drew demanded harshly, the tone of his voice demanding a response.
'If you're referring to me, he could hardly ''steal'' what doesn't belong to you,' Kirsty reminded him. She was about to tell him that the could hardly care what her relationship with Clive was, when he stunned her by saying softly,
'Then perhaps it's time it did.'
With two strides he had closed the gap between them, and Kirsty was being crushed against the wall of his chest, his voice grating against her ear as he muttered savagely, 'lf it's physical violence that turns you on? try this for size!' And then his mouth was grinding down on hers, savaging the tender flesh as she struggled impotently in his arms.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BRIEFLY, Kirsty saw their reflections in the uncurtained window, Drew, tall and powerful, his body enveloping her smaller frame, intimacy cloaking their real emotions.
'Drew, don't do this,' she begged, dragging her mouts free from the assault of his, but he wasn't listening to her. His eyes were fastened on the small tear in her sweater, the expression in this turning her blood to ice, fear, freezing her muscles as he lifted his eyes to her face.
'Drew, it wasn't like that . . .' she protested, but he didn't seem to hear her.
>
'And to thnk I fell for that sweet, innocent actl!' he muttered thickly. 'But you aren't innocent any more, are you, Kirsty?' He touched her mouth, probing with one finger, a cynical smile curving his mouth as she winced from the pain of her bruised flesh, trying to find the words to convince him that he was wrong. He was like a leashed animal in the small confines of her room, and the pent-up bitterness of his fury frightened her; all the more so because there was no reason for it.
The only possible objection he could have to her being with Clive was on the grounds of their supposed 'engagement', which they both knew to be fictitious, and his rage was as irrational as her jealousy had been when she discovered he was with Beverley Travers. Only her jealousy had a sound basis-she loved him, where he felt nothing at all for her.
She glanced nervously towards him and amended her thoughts. He did feel something for her. It was glittering in his eyes, etched into the cynicism of his face, and her stomach churned desperately as she recognised desire burning behind the cool facade. But why, and why now?
Was it because he thought she was no longer a virgin? Kirsty shuddered, cast adrift on an unfamiliar sea, longing for a known landmark to cling to, but they had all been swept away, just as Drew was threatening to sweep away, her fragile defences.
'To think I denied myself because I thought I hadn't the right to destroy your innocence! Well, I'm not going to deny myself any longer. Do you know how long I've been sitting there there waiting for you to come back from your lover's arms? Over two hours,' he told her bitingly.
'I didn't know you were coming round', Kirsty protested trying to squirm out off his grasp. 'Clive told me he was having a party . . .' She flushed, biting her lip. She hadn't intended to let that slip; she had no wish for Drew to mock her naivete, but she needn't have worried, because it was obvious that he didn't believe her.
'Some party!' he grated. 'And it's not over.'
A Sudden Engagement by Penny Jordan Page 10