Confrontation

by Sarah Holland

  'I don't want your mind,' he drawled thickly.

  Rage flared in her eyes. 'I'm painfully aware of that! It's precisely why I won't let you take me! Now, just let me go and accept that lovemaking isn't going to happen between us!' Her eyes warred fiercely with his. 'Ever!'

  His face ran with dark, angry colour. He stared down at her for a second with angry eyes. 'After everything I've said? You can still push me away as though I mean nothing to you?'

  'Well, what do I mean to you?' she demanded hoarsely. 'Beyond an exciting conquest?'

  He looked away, his mouth tightening, and there was a tense silence. Then he said thickly, 'I don't know what you mean to me, Caro. I only know I want you so much I'm going crazy with the need to make love to you.'

  She gave a hurt, angry laugh. 'And you have the nerve to lecture me on relationships!'

  He looked at her angrily. 'At least I'm not planning to marry someone! At least I'm damned well honest about what I want!'

  'Yes!' she said thickly, hating him. 'And I'm honest, too, Mark, when I say I'll never let you make love to me.'

  Their eyes warred for a long time. Then he pushed her angrily from him, got to his feet and stared down at her in bitter fury. 'Don't, then, you bloody bitch!' he bit out thickly, towering over her. 'And I shan't ever ask again. Do you get that? Not ever again.'

  Hot tears brimmed in her eyes. She felt them slide uncontrollably over her lashes. Mouth trembling, she turned her head, refusing to let him see the agony this intolerable weekend was putting her through. She wanted to give in to him. She wanted it so much that it was killing her. But she didn't dare...

  Mark stood over her. 'We're still stuck here together,' he said thickly. 'We have to make the best of it.'

  Caroline nodded, face averted as silent tears burned her cheeks.

  'We're going to have to eat,' Mark's hard voice commented tightly. 'I'll cook it. What do you want? There are various tins of --' He broke off, studying her averted face. 'Caroline!' he said tightly. 'I'm speaking to you! Kindly look at me!'

  She kept her tear-stained face hidden from him. 'I can hear you perfectly well without having to look at you!'

  'I said look at me!' he bit out through his teeth.

  She did not move and said thickly, 'No!'

  It seemed to drive him mad. 'Damn you!' he exploded hoarsely, and his hand shot out to jerk her head back.

  'You'll look at me or I'll --' He saw the tears streaming down her face and inhaled sharply as his hand left her head. 'For God's sake, don't cry!' he muttered thickly, and shifted, sighing harshly, running a hand through his hair as she continued to cry in soft sobs. 'Don't cry!' he said again. 'Caroline, don't...'

  'I'm so sorry!' she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. 'I'll do my best not to make you feel so uncomfortable in future, but at the moment I really can't help it!'

  'Look—I'm sorry,' he said, eyes flickering restlessly over her face. 'I'm not sure what I've done to provoke this, but whatever it is—I'm sorry.'

  'What a wonderful apology!' she said rawly, and put her face in her hands, weeping uncontrollably.

  He made a rough sound of anger, then sank down beside her, put his arms around her, pressing her wet face into his throat and holding her tightly. 'Come on,' he said thickly. 'Don't cry.'

  'It's not your fault,' she said against his strong throat, wet lashes flickering on his tanned skin as she clung to him helplessly. 'You can't help being a selfish, sexist swine!'

  He gave a dry laugh, cradling her against him and stroking her hair. 'And you can't help being a woman, I guess. Love, marriage, orange blossom...'

  'Do you know how patronising you sound?' she asked huskily, and kissed his throat, grateful for the warmth of his body and his embrace.

  'I can imagine,' he said deeply. 'But let's not dwell on it. It's more or less insoluble. Besides—this sudden burst of tears is probably because you're tired and hungry. What say you I carry you into the kitchen and fix you some dinner? A nice glass of red wine. Would that cheer you up?'

  She nodded silently, and sniffed like a child.

  Mark picked her up, and carried her into the kitchen.

  He cooked as he lived, his movements fast, dynamic, efficient and without hesitation. Caroline watched him, her eyes secretly admiring. She loved the way his body moved, loved the lean powerful lines of it, the muscles that rippled beneath the black cashmere sweater and black trousers.

  Dinner was chicken and mushroom with instant mashed potatoes and tinned peas. Mark served rich red wine with it, warmed by the stove, and they were both starving, eating hungrily.

  Afterwards, they sat replete and warm, finishing the red wine.

  'I feel so much better,' Caroline said with a sleepy smile.

  He nodded, eyes flickering over her face. 'You look it.'

  'Must be the strain, I guess,' she said, and then yawned, her eyes closing completely as weariness overtook her and she gave a long yawning sigh. 'It's so warm in here...!'

  'You're exhausted,' Mark said, mouth a firm line, and got to his feet. 'Come on. Bedtime. I'll carry you up, then come back down and do the washing-up, have a glass of wine...'

  Caroline smiled sleepily and put her arms around his strong neck. 'By the time you come to bed, I'll be fast asleep.'

  'Don't sound too pleased about it,' he drawled with an edge to his voice, and lifted her in his arms, carrying her out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

  'I'm not,' she said softly, a haze of wine and his kindness making her impulsively honest. 'I wish this were a different world, Mark. I could let you make love to me, then, and not worry about it.'

  He kicked the bedroom door open, looking down at her through hooded lids. 'Would you, Caro?' he asked thickly, putting her down on the bed and watching her intently.

  'You know I would,' she said sleepily, and cuddled up to the pillow, a smile on her face as Mark continued to watch her in silence. Her eyes were closing, her ankle throbbing. She needed sleep so badly. When he did not move away, she murmured, 'Aren't you going to light the fire?'

  He moved away, and she began to fall asleep as she heard him beginning to build the fire. It had been such a long day, and so emotionally draining. She felt as though she'd been through a whirlwind of passion and desire and excitement...

  Mark pulled the duvet up over her with a gentleness she would never have expected from him. He bent his dark head, and kissed her, too, and there was a tenderness in his kiss that made her feel very good indeed.

  'Goodnight, Caro,' he said softly, and tiptoed from the room.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Some time in the night, Mark slid into bed beside Caroline, his arms moving around her and his body resting against hers. Drowsily, her lids flickered open and she gave a soft sigh, snuggling up to him, breathing in the scent of his body as she rested her face against his strong neck. He tensed momentarily, then held her close, dropping a tender kiss on her head and resting his head against hers.

  In the morning, she woke in his embrace.

  'Good morning,' he murmured softly, watching her in an odd, enquiring way.

  She smiled and snuggled up to him. 'Morning.'

  He was silent for a moment, then said idly, 'You talk in your sleep. Did you know that?'

  Tensing, she said with a nervous laugh, 'What did I say?'

  He stroked her hair. 'I don't really think I should tell you that, Caro.'

  She tensed even further, and slowly lifted her head to look up into his strong, handsome, sleepy face. There was a brief silence. He met her gaze with those fascinating grey eyes.

  'What did I say?' Caroline asked huskily.

  His lashes flickered. 'You said you loved me.'

  For a second, she felt as though he'd punched the breath out of her. I didn't say that, her mind informed her. I couldn't have done. I don't feel it, don't even think it. It took every ounce of self-control she had to remain lying there next to him, unmoving, her eyes never once leaving his in that split-second, appall
ing silence.

  Eventually, she said, 'I must have been having a nightmare!'

  Mark's hard mouth twisted in a smile. 'I guess so...'

  She could scarcely breathe. Her voice said, of its own accord, 'It's the strain, of course.'

  Mark's hand slid slowly over her waist. 'We are under a great deal of strain. There's bound to be a severe emotional reaction in us both.'

  'And it's not necessarily how we really feel,' she said thickly, grasping in desperation the metaphysical lifeline he was offering.

  'Absolutely not,' he said, and his eyes dropped to her mouth.

  Excitement gripped the pit of her stomach. Against her thigh, Mark's body hardened with sudden intolerable desire. His heart started to beat very hard and heavily against his chest.

  Neither of them moved or spoke. Slowly, Caroline's gaze dropped to his mouth. She swallowed, her mouth intolerably dry. The excitement had flared so suddenly that it was making her blood sing and her temperature rocket out of all control.

  Mark slowly lowered his head.

  'Don't, Mark...' she whispered with a shiver of excitement.

  His mouth closed slowly over hers in a tender kiss, so Sensual and undemanding that she gave in at once, her eyes closing and her head tilting back as her hands moved to his dark head and a soft sigh of need came from the back of her throat.

  Mark breathed harder, his heart thudded faster, his body pressed hard against her. He slid one strong hand up her slender body until it closed over her breast and felt the fiercely erect nipple. She gave a fierce, involuntary moan of deep satisfaction.

  Hunger flared in his kiss like lightning as his mouth explored hers hotly. She was moaning beneath him, utterly lost to his kiss, her mouth open and responsive as her hands moved of their own driven will to his strong neck, his shoulders, and the intolerable need to touch him made her dizzy, insane, wanton.

  His breathing was harsh and rapid. 'Let me touch you!' he said thickly against her throat. 'Just let me touch you...' Suddenly, he unzipped her dress and she did not stop him, could not stop him, her heart pulsating as she started to push blindly at his black sweater.

  With a hoarse sound, he pulled the sweater from his torso, threw it to the floor, came back to her, kissing her harder. His hands tugged down her dress to the waist.

  He drew a ragged breath, lifted his head, looking down into her eyes. Caroline met his penetrating gaze.

  Everything seemed to be spinning out of control. She saw his hard-muscled shoulders, bare and tanned, and her breath caught audibly as her gaze moved uncontrollably over his chest, the black hairs curling tightly against that firm muscle-packed flesh.

  Dry-mouthed, fingers shaking, she touched him, breathing faster as her hands moved down that powerful chest, encountered his fiercely thudding heart, heard his rough intake of breath and her eyes flashed back with hot desire to meet his.

  'Caro...!' he said hoarsely. 'Oh, God...touch me...'

  Her shaking hands moved to his taut stomach and he gave a harsh sound of intolerable excitement, bending his dark head, his mouth closing over hers. Desire burst in her like a floodtide. She felt his fingers sliding over her flesh, up over her stomach where her heartbeat made her shake, up to her breasts, and Mark gave a hoarse sound of pleasure as his fingers slid her lacy bra cups down, thumbs stroking her nipples, sending fierce shock-waves of pleasure through her.

  Caroline couldn't fight him; her whole body was trembling with the force of her need, she was moving against him slowly, softly, her hands all over his torso, touching him, stroking him, her mouth giving and receiving such intolerable pleasure from his kiss. As he unhooked her bra with shaking hands she started to moan, almost sobbing as he freed her breasts, stroked them, kissing her harder, the pressure of his hardness leaving her in no doubt as to the urgency he too felt.

  He raised his head again, breathing raggedly, and watched her face as he slowly, slowly, eased her dress down over her hips.

  The dress fell to the floor. He stared down at her, naked as she was but for the silky briefs, her body flushed with heat and pounding with a bloodbeat too powerful to control.

  'Oh, God...' Mark whispered, and stared into her eyes with fevered need. 'Caro...Caro...' He lifted her slowly until their naked torsos met and the impact brought a hoarse cry of agonised frustration from Caroline as she ran her fingers down his naked spine.

  'Mark...' Her mouth burned against his throat. 'Mark...'

  'Let me love you!' he whispered shakily, kissing her hot throat.

  'Yes,' she said urgently.

  His eyes closed briefly, then he groaned, kissing her, lowering her to the pillows, his body against hers.

  'I can't believe you're going to let me make love to you,' he said unsteadily, 'I've waited so long...'

  'So have I.' Her mouth seemed swollen, hot, fevered. The frustration and self-denial had never seemed so unbearable. Her hands ran over his naked shoulders in blind desire and she said thickly, 'Take me...take me...'

  'Caro...' His lips were shaking as he kissed her hot throat. 'Caro...'

  Suddenly, the roar of an engine came from outside.

  They both froze, eyes flaring open in horror.

  'Not now!' Mark whispered hoarsely.

  Voices came from outside too, now, and the lumber of a snow-plough was tempered by the slow crawl of cars.

  Mark swore savagely, got off the bed, strode to the window. She watched him, her body trembling with desire. She felt wrenched from paradise.

  'We're being rescued,' Mark said harshly, and swung round. 'Get dressed, Caro. They're coming up the path right now.'

  Dazed, she was fumbling with her lingerie while Mark dragged on his black sweater. He knelt on the bed behind her, his strong fingers fastening her bra.

  'We'll talk on the way back to London,' he said deeply against her throat and kissed her.

  Caroline looked round at him. Their eyes met. Her green eyes held deep enquiry, emotion blazing from them as they searched his. He bent his head and kissed her mouth passionately, one hand stroking her neck.

  Suddenly, he got off the bed. 'Quickly. Get dressed.'

  She got up, began to dress, aware of a smile on Mark's hard mouth as he watched her, a light of some indeterminable kind in his eyes as they flicked over her slender curves.

  'Stop watching me,' she murmured, flushing, and he laughed. He insisted on zipping her dress, kissing her when she was dressed.

  There was a loud hammering at the front door. Mark swung her into his arms, carrying her downstairs.

  'How's your ankle?' he murmured against her hair as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

  Surprise lit her eyes as he gently let her stand. 'It doesn't feel anywhere near as painful. I'd forgotten it was sprained, to be honest.'

  Outside, they heard the rescue workers shouting at each other.

  'They must be in here!'

  'Break the door down.'

  'Can we do that?'

  'Turn the engine off, Bill! We can't hear ourselves think!'

  Mark strode to the front door, wrenched it open and an assortment of men in bright plastic work clothes confronted them, a crisp snowy landscape gleaming in bright sunlight behind them.

  Suddenly, a tall, handsome blond man stepped forward. 'Is she in there?' he asked hoarsely. 'Is she all right?'

  'Stephen...!' Caroline whispered, face draining of all colour, and as Stephen cried her name and ran through the front door Mark stepped back, the grey eyes glittering metallically like silver knives.

  She was engulfed in Stephen's arms. 'Darling!' He was kissing her. 'Oh, God, I've been so frantic! I thought you were dead!'

  'I'm fine,' she said shakily, staring over his shoulder at Mark's powerful body as he stood talking to a policeman. 'I've hurt my ankle, but not in the crash.'

  'Your ankle!' He looked down with concern at her foot.

  'Just a sprain.' She was looking at Mark. 'But how did you get here?'

  'I saw the news on Sunday night
,' Stephen said. 'The whole of Cornwall snowed in. I fang your hotel; they said you hadn't been back since Saturday lunchtime. I drove down late last night, and raised the alarm.'

  'I'll write out a cheque for the damage,' Mark was saying coolly to the policeman, and suddenly he turned, striding towards the living-room, and as his grey eyes flicked like steel to meet hers she felt as though she'd been knocked backwards by a nuclear warhead.

  I'm in love with him, she thought in a hammerblow of breathless realisation. I've been in love with him all along, from the minute I saw him. That's why I was so wary. I knew I'd fall in love heavily if we ever spent time alone together, and I have... I have...

  Pain flooded her... pleasure flooded her. Oh, God, was it possible to feel such extremes of emotion?

  'Mark Rider, Ashcroft Manor, Hampshire,' the strong clear voice was saying in the living-room.

  'My parents were worried, too,' Stephen was saying. 'I rang and told them before I left, and...'

  He continued talking, and she continued staring at him, appalled by the realisation that she would have to break off the engagement. But she couldn't do that now. How could she? He'd just driven all the way from London, organised a rescue team. He might have saved her life. She couldn't possibly tell him here and now that the engagement was over. It would have to wait until he was better able to deal with the news. But meanwhile, she would have to pretend...

  'One of our squad cars will take you back to your hotel, sir,' the policeman was saying in the other room. 'And the young lady... ?'

  'She'll return with her fiancé,' Mark said in a hard voice, and snapped his cheque-book shut.

  Pain lanced her heart as she listened. The prick of tears was fierce behind her eyes. Her mouth trembled and she had to swallow hard not to let any tears fall.

  Blinking hard, she forced a tight smile for Stephen. 'It was wonderful of you to come,' she said mechanically.

  'Darling!' He misinterpreted her blurred vision and pulled her into his arms. 'Oh, my darling, I love you...'

  A second later, Mark was striding out of the living-room, his tough face remote and expressionless as he strode past her, shouldering into his black cashmere overcoat, walking out through the open front door, and out of her life...