Conditional Surrender

by Wendy Prentice

  Kate's breath left her in a rush as she was drawn back against the full length of Greg's hard body.

  `Are you by any chance referring to Caroline?' he asked drily.

  `Well, if the teeth fit . . .' Marie sniffed. 'I don't like my guest of honour being upset.'

  Whatever Greg was about to retort was lost in Terry's shout of laughter.

  `Don't you worry your head about Kate, Marie. She might be a little lacking in the submission department, but when it comes to a knockout blow,' his eyes rolled graphically,

  `believe me, there's no contest! She has a temper you wouldn't believe!'

  `Oh, good.' Marie positively beamed her approval before being whisked of to dance with Terry. Kate smiled fondly after them. Perhaps the evening wouldn't be so bad, after all.

  `Walsh obviously knows when to beat a hasty retreat.'

  `He's known me a long time.' She peeped up at him through the veil of her lashes, to gauge his mood, and hastily crossed her fingers behind her back! 'He knows the warning signals. A good lesson for any man to learn, don't you think?'

  `Mmm,' Greg was noncommittal. He propelled her gently forward into the space cleared for dancing and turned her in his arms to move slowly in time to the music. Surprisingly, Kate found he danced well, and she managed to relax a little until his hard voice sounded in her ear.

  `There's no cause for you to be jealous of Caroline, you know.'

  Kate jerked back, but met his downward glance with unwavering steadiness. 'Who said anything about jealousy? I merely dislike being patronised.' Particularly by one of your alternatives, she added silently to herself, wondering if she really could be jealous. But surely that would mean . . .?

  `I think I'd like some champagne.'

  Greg stuck close to her for most of the evening, for which she was grateful. Except for Terry, these people were mainly Greg's friends, and, although Kate knew most of them through work, she did not feel totally comfortable with them in a social setting. So they danced, chatting with outward amiability whenever anyone came up to them, no one giving any indication that they saw through the masquerade she and Greg were enacting for their benefit. She was to become quite horrified at the ease with which the falsehoods fell from her lips.

  She enjoyed the party for the most part, but as the evening wore on she found her energy begin to flag. Terry, though, ignored her excuses and dragged her off to dance to a particularly ambitious disco beat, and for a while she lost sight of Greg.

  `Enough!' She sagged wearily against Terry. 'If I don't get some fresh air soon, I'm going to flake out!'

  `Come along, Cinders,' Terry pulled her arm through his, `let's away to find Prince Charming before you're turned back into a pumpkin!'

  `What would I do without you, Buttons?'

  But Greg was nowhere to be seen, so Terry gallantly abandoned Cindy/Candy and escorted Kate out through the French windows into the cool night air.

  `Oh, this is better!' She breathed in appreciatively, clearing her foggy head of champagne. She had a feeling she had drunk a little more than she ought to have done. Her tolerance for alcohol was abysmally low. 'Wouldn't Dad love this garden? He always wanted a massive lawn. And those borders . .

  She stopped dead. Terry, not paying that much attention, almost cannoned into her.

  `Hold on, Kate. What's up?' He followed her mesmerised stare down the length of the garden. 'Oh, hell! Look, Kate, these things happen at parties. It's nothing . .

  Kate did not hear him. She was thankful the closely entwined couple at the end of the garden were too engrossed in each other to notice her intrusion into what was a painfully obvious private moment.

  Greg had his back turned to her, but there was no mistaking his tall, lithe figure. She could not make out the features of the face he was kissing, but the blonde hair spilling over his arm told its own story.

  `I'd like to go back in now, please, Terry,' she whispered, unaware that her face was paper-white.

  `Look, princess, I know it's probably already too late, but this is no time to lose your temper,' Terry urged as he hurriedly propelled her back into the noisy crowd. He pulled her roughly into his arms and began to sway her in time to the music, pressing her face into his chest to hide her features from any onlookers, and all the time he kept up with his urgent instructions. 'You know you'll hate yourself in the morning if you let yourself go. You have to face all these people at work, remember? Anyway, you wouldn't want to

  give that bitch the satisfaction of upsetting you, would you? Oh, bloody hell!' His grip tightened around her waist. `Greg's on his way over here—and princess? I don't think you're the only one about to lose their rag! I think he's going to kill me if you don't let go! Princess? Kate? Oh—hi, Greg. You haven't seen Candy around anywhere, have you?'

  `No. I was looking for a redhead, not a blonde.'

  That did it!

  Up until that moment Kate had been worried, for she had unfortunately recognised that she was not undergoing a mere loss of temper as Terry had justifiably supposed. For when her temper took her over, she felt nothing. Just before and just after, yes, but never during. And until Greg had spoken, Kate had been feeling too much. The wrong sort of feelings.

  She should surely have felt happy, relieved at the very least, that Greg was turning his attention elsewhere. But she wasn't. All that consumed her was that those lips, which had been promised exclusively to her, were now playing their practised tune on someone else.

  One promise, one measly little promise, of fidelity—and he couldn't even last out the engagement period!

  Kate had waited for the anger to arrive, as it surely must, to blot out this curious sadness, and a pain which made her sick to her stomach. But now, like a passenger impatiently awaiting a late train, when the anger finally made a belated appearance, she welcomed it whole-heartedly.

  Terry groaned aloud as she stiffly drew away from him.

  `If you'll both excuse me, I'm going to get a drink of water.' A portion of Terry's lecture had managed to work its way through to her. It would be unpardonable of her to ruin the party, and she was fast approaching the stage when anything might happen.

  It was only Terry's restraining hold which prevented Greg following her immediately.

  `Look, Greg, I think I ought to warn you . .

  `Warn me? Haven't you got that the wrong way round, Walsh?' Metallically glittering eyes focused dangerously on the hand holding him back. Unperturbed, Terry grinned, enjoying watching Greg in the grip of anger. He had been a

  little concerned at the lack of emotion Kate's fiancé had thus far displayed, but it seemed his fears were groundless. This was one angry man!

  `And what do you imagine could happen in a room full of people, old man?' Terry looked pointedly around the room. The room was large, but so was the crowd, and although no one was paying any particular attention to them at the moment, the savagely polite expression on Greg's face did relax, until Terry added wickedly: 'Of course, had we been in a similar clinch in private—say, down the end of the garden, for example . . .'

  Greg's composure did not falter for a moment, though Terry was astute enough to see through the mask as comprehension dawned. 'Good luck, Greg. You're sure going to need it!'

  The first glass of water was barely sufficient to reduce Kate's rage by so much as a degree. So she poured another, sipping carefully this time, instead of gulping. The deserted kitchen was a haven, cool and uncluttered. Until Greg walked in.

  `Terry tells me I owe you an apology,' he began warily, watching her closely.

  `I thought we'd already agreed not to mouth words we didn't mean at each other,' Kate countered, 'eye of the storm' calmly.

  `So we did.' He hesitated, his sharp gaze travelling over her white face. 'I'd be grateful if you could manage to hold on to your temper for a while, Kate.' He paused. Then, incredibly, `I promised Caroline a lift home. Marchant has been drinking a little too freely.'

  Kate watched with clinical detachment as Greg app
eared to brace himself for whatever was to come. Of course, the last time she had felt like this she had slapped his face, so he was wise to expect trouble. Kate hated to disappoint people.

  `I have a better idea, Greg. Why don't we dispose of it now, then we won't have to worry about it erupting in front of a third party?'

  `I don't know what you have in mind, Kate, but . . .' He shouldn't have grabbed her. He really shouldn't. At the

  very least, he should have removed the couple of blonde hairs clinging so tenaciously to his shirt.

  She did not hear his voice. She knew with utter clarity what she was about to do, and an earthquake would not have stopped her. She had known, of course, the moment he entered the kitchen. It could even have been the reason she poured herself a second glass of water.

  She even knew what the consequences of such an action could be, and was sensible enough to be terrified at the thought.

  But she still flung the contents of her glass in Greg's astonished face.

  `I think I'll walk home—I seem to have a lot of energy to burn. Do thank Sam and Marie for the lovely party, won't you?'

  She was a hundred yards down the road when the Mercedes caught up with her, as she had known all along it would. Her heart leapt wildly into her throat when she caught sight of his face. His features were contorted with rage as great as any she had ever felt, his lips drawn back against his teeth in a snarl. Kate could not have been more frightened had she suddenly come face to face with a rabid dog.

  `Get in!' he ordered. Kate did as she was bid, still shaking from the after-effects of her own loss of control. His hands were gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles showed white, and Kate was in no doubt that he wished it was her neck he was throttling. No sooner had she fastened her seat-belt than he let in the clutch and the car roared away from the kerb.

  `Caroline not with you, then?' Kate heard herself say with horror, amazed that she could sound so mockingly polite.

  `Don't say another word, Kate!' he growled. 'Right now, I'm torn between giving you the beating of your life, and making love to you in the back seat of the car! And I haven't done that since I left my teens!'

  `I'll take the beating, if you don't mind,' she whispered shakily, the words hardly audible even to herself, but Greg's acute hearing picked them up. His nostrils flared, a white

  line appearing around his tightly pursed lips, then he swerved the car up a rough-hewn path and stood on the brakes.

  Kate loosened her seat-belt and grabbed for the door handle, intent on escape.

  `The door's locked, Kate!' he taunted her, mercilessly yanking her around in his arms as if she were nothing more than a rag doll. Kate was unaware of the tears coursing down her cheeks, but the sight made Greg draw back from whatever he was about to do.

  He let her go abruptly, sitting back and snapping on the interior light, and told her to do something about her face.

  `I left my handbag behind,' she whispered, hating the quivering waver in her husky voice.

  `Here.' He handed it to her. 'It seems Walsh knew what was in store. He threw it at me as I was leaving.'

  Kate did what she could to repair the damage, but she was still a pitiful sight when she finished. Greg spared her one glance, encompassing her distress, and swore, quietly and with a fluency she could only applaud.

  `I frightened you then, didn't I?' he asked without a trace of emotion.

  `Yes.' What else could she say?

  `Then perhaps you'll think twice next time?'

  `Next time?' Her voice rose shrilly. 'You mean you intend to humiliate me like that again?'

  He frowned darkly. 'Humiliate you? What are you talking about?'

  `I'm talking about that passionate little clinch in the garden!'

  He brought his fist down hard on the steering wheel in exasperation, breathing deeply before slanting a sideways glance at her. `If you were looking that closely,' he bit out sarcastically, 'you would have seen the passion was all on Caroline's side.'

  `Oh, fine! That makes it all hunky dory, I suppose. I didn't notice you fighting to defend your virtue!'

  `That was not what motivated you to fling that glass in my face.' A dull flush appeared on his cheekbones.

  `No,' Kate agreed blandly. 'I lost my temper—I did warn you about it, if you remember?' Her eyes hardened. 'Being treated with such a lack of respect tends to have that effect on me.

  Her words fell into a taut silence, until Greg restarted the engine.

  `I didn't intend to humiliate you, Kate, no matter how it might have looked,' he told her quietly a few moments later. And, for some perverse reason of her own, Kate believed him. 'My—association with Caroline ended more than six months ago. Tonight was the first occasion we've met since then. She . . .' he paused, slanting her an assessing look, 'she wanted to say goodbye, and I thought it best to have some privacy. Obviously, I was mistaken. For that, and any embarrassment I may have inadvertently caused you, I apologise. But I warn you now, Kate,' he went on harshly. 'I will not tolerate a repeat performance of that little tantrum.'

  `Just for the record, Greg, I will not tolerate any more goodbye scenes!' Her face was set in mutinous lines. His soft chuckle following hard on the heels of such frightening rage was disarming.

  `One little kiss, Kate? It hardly constitutes a capital offence.'

  `It does in my book,' she stated categorically.

  Fortunately, they drew up outside her home at that moment. Greg laid a restraining hand on her arm as she made to leave the car.

  `I shan't be seeing you until the ceremony.'

  `Oh, what a shame!' Kate pouted with blatantly false disappointment. He laughed.

  `I find myself looking forward to taming you, Kate. And I shall, if it's the last thing I do.'

  `Oh, it will be, Greg,' she promised faithfully with poisonous sweetness. 'It will be!'

  So, was it possible she had been in love with Greg all along? Or could it be some sort of sexual jealousy she had experienced? Did love arrive out of the blue, complete with fireworks and trumpets blaring? Or was it an emotion

  growing out of lesser, simpler feelings? Was it this gut-wrenching, painful intoxication she felt when Greg looked at her? Or was it the warm, comfortable glow shared by her parents?

  Surely love brought with it warmth, not the chilling ice surrounding her heart? It would engender kindness, not the desire to inflict pain. It would make one happy, not cause this bitter misery and confusion.

  No. Her logic assured her she could not be in love with Greg. She dared not be in love with him. This physical infatuation already put her too much in his control.

  She had to stop thinking in terms of love. He did not know the meaning of the word. And even Kate would have bet that he would never allow her to teach him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  `WE'RE HERE!'

  Kate sat up abruptly, surprised to find she had actually managed to doze off. She looked around her with interest.

  `Here' was Sam and Marie's weekend bungalow over the border into Wales. Kate had adamantly refused to state a preference of honeymoon locations, much to Greg's displeasure. But Kate had shrugged eloquent shoulders at him and roundly declared that since his only interest was to get her into bed, the surrounding scenery was superfluous to requirements. She had noted the tightening of his lips with the same fatalistic air that had protected her through the past weeks, and the subject had been dropped.

  But now she changed her mind. The bungalow was ensconced in a beautiful setting, allowing a panoramic view of the surrounding Welsh hills. Kate loved it on sight. It also boasted a huge secluded swimming pool which she noted with a lightening of spirit, a feeling which just as quickly vanished when she caught sight of Greg's determined face.

  Kate found it impossible to hold that look. Her mind groped for some sort of defence mechanism to come to her aid, but she could summon nothing. Her anger, her defiance, appeared to have deserted her. Where was the point to resistance anyway? The deed was d
one. They were married and each would have to find a way to live together without tearing the other to pieces in the process.

  She recognised that, knew it would be a self-defeating gesture to force them to live all the time on the edge of an argument. She could not live that way. It had been hard enough to cope with the disharmony her father had wrought in those few short weeks—the thought of her own marriage becoming a battlefield was distressing in the extreme.

  But how to communicate such thoughts without feeling

  she had surrendered totally to Greg's demands?

  She was torn between wanting him to again become the teasing friend who had cared for her when she was sick, and needing him to remain the impersonal man she had married. At least, with the latter, she might be allowed some measure of resistance as a sop to her pride.

  But right now, his dark mood was filling her with apprehension for the night to come. He was desperate enough to have married her, wasn't he? And she knew, with uncanny precision, that he resented her power to force him into such a situation. He might have deprived her of the freedom to choose, but hadn't she unwittingly done the same to him?

  Mechanically, she prepared a light supper for them both. Someone had thoughtfully stocked the fridge with a quantity of cold meats and salad ingredients—also a bottle of champagne which Kate studiously ignored. Greg, however, opened it with a sardonic glance towards his new wife.

  `Am I to take it you don't feel like celebrating?'

  The insolently comprehensive gaze accompanying his mocking drawl brought a tinge of colour to her wan face.

  They ate in complete and hostile silence, Kate merely playing with the food on her plate, although she downed more than her share of champagne. She was almost relieved when the meal was over and the bone-snapping tension of the last hour gave way to nervous resignation.

  `I'm going to have a bath,' she declared shakily, and rose from the table. Greg looked up in surprise, then his brows lowered ominously at the sight of her strained face.