Vengeance

by Susan Lewis

  ‘But you walked out on me, Laurence!’ Kirsten cried. ‘You had a choice, you could have stayed but you left. You turned your back on me . . .’

  ‘And you’ll never know how much I’ve hated myself for that. I know you’re not responsible for what you did to the baby, it’s me who’s responsible. I screwed you up so bad you just didn’t know what you were doing. I realize that now, but I had so much goddamned pride I couldn’t admit it was my fault. I started seeing you as my nemesis, someone who would stalk me for the rest of my life. But it’s not you who’s my nemesis, it’s me. It’s all the guilt I’ve got inside for what I did to you. Shit, it’s taken me a long time to understand it, to realize that I’m still punishing myself for letting you down the way I did. All this time, ever since you came back, I’ve been telling myself that I just don’t feel anything for you any more. I’ve lived a lie for five years, I’ve lived a fucking nightmare this past year. What I never allowed myself to think about was how much I was hurting you. I couldn’t. But then I looked at you one day and I could see it. You’ll never know what that did to me, to see the pain there so clear in your eyes and to know that I was to blame. After, I couldn’t think about anything else except how badly I wanted you, to try and make up for all I had done to you – and I guess it was then that I admitted, accepted, how much I still loved you.

  ‘By then I’d already made the mistake with Anna. I knew, even before I did it, that I’d end up regretting it. But it was like I was on fire. I had to have the release. Every time I thought about you . . .’ He was shaking his head. ‘You know what you do to me, Kirsten. There’s never been anyone like you and there never will be, at least not for me, but I just couldn’t accept it. And Anna was there. She wanted to, she made it so goddamned easy and I . . .’ He lifted his head and looked long into her eyes. ‘I despise myself for my weakness almost as much as I do for my mistakes. I know I’ve hurt you real bad, Kirsten, but I’ve got to ask if you can forgive me. I know I don’t deserve it, and I wouldn’t blame you if you told me to get the hell out of your life and never come back. But if you love me as much as you say you do, if you want me the way I want you . . .’

  ‘Why did you go on sleeping with her if you felt the way you did about me?’ Kirsten said.

  ‘I didn’t see I had any choice. She was the star, for Christ’s sake. If I upset her I’d upset the entire movie. And she was as jealous as hell of you. She must have sensed the way I felt about you and besides, at the time, at least at first, I thought it was what I wanted. I thought if I kept on sleeping with her I’d get over you. Jesus, I was a mess. Then there was Pippa . . .’

  ‘Pippa?’

  ‘Yes, Pippa. She called me that night, right after we’d made love. She went on and on about how weak I was for not facing up to the way I felt about you. She told me that I’d prove her right though, that she knew how I’d been lying to myself all the time I was married to her. She got me so mad . . .’

  ‘Pippa knew how you felt about me?’ Kirsten said incredulously.

  ‘Sure, she knew. And she’s been at me about it ever since she left. I wanted to prove her wrong. I wanted to make her suffer for the way she’d walked out on Tom. I wanted . . . Oh God, how the hell do I know what I wanted when I’ve fucked everything up the way I have.’ He smiled wryly, but Kirsten could see the pain in his eyes. ‘I remember you asking me once, a long time ago, if I’d give you another chance. Well it looks like the tables have turned, ’cos it’s me asking you now if you’ll give me another chance. If you’ll let me at least try to make up for all I’ve done. I love you so goddamned much . . .’

  But Kirsten was shaking her head. ‘No, Laurence,’ she said, only a very slight tremor in her voice. ‘I can’t do it. I want to believe you, I want to so much, but . . . No, don’t touch me, please!’ she cried pressing herself to the wall as he got up.

  ‘You’re going to deny us both something we want more than anything else?’ he said.

  Kirsten looked at him, feeling as though she might choke on the turmoil inside her. In her heart she knew she couldn’t resist him, that all she’d ever wanted in the world was standing right here in front of her, but tearing her eyes from his she pushed herself away from the wall and walking over to the window she pulled the curtains. It was a long time before she turned back and even longer before she spoke again. ‘What time do you have to leave?’ she said softly.

  ‘I don’t. Unless you want me to.’

  Endless minutes ticked by. Her eyes moved to the fire as it shifted and sighed. ‘If you stay,’ she said still staring into the flames, ‘I want you just to hold me. I don’t want any more than that – at least not yet.’

  As he folded her into his arms he didn’t even attempt to kiss her, he just pulled her close, stroking her hair and gently rocking her from side to side. After a while Kirsten drew back her head and looked up into his eyes. He smiled and ran his fingers over her cheek. She turned to kiss his hand. It all felt so right, so perfect and so natural, but still the fear wouldn’t go away.

  ‘How’s about we just sit here and talk?’ he said, taking her hands and pulling her down beside him on the sofa.

  For a while they did, until, almost without thinking, Kirsten leaned towards him resting her head on his shoulder. His arms came up to hold her, one hand found its way beneath her hair and gently caressed her neck. After a while Kirsten lifted her face and as he looked down, his mouth barely an inch from hers she lifted a hand to his cheek and pulled his lips to hers.

  As he turned her to hold her tighter against him her arms circled his neck and her fingers moved into his hair. She felt his tongue push gently into her mouth and the smell of him, the feel of him, the very taste of him was curling deep into her body. She groaned and clung to him even tighter as his hands found her breasts, but then, as though suddenly realizing what he was doing, he pulled abruptly away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘Shit, I didn’t mean to do that. I got carried away.’ His eyes came to hers and he smiled. ‘This is kind of hard for me, Kirstie,’ he said, ‘when I feel the way I do about you, but it won’t happen again, I swear it, not until you’re ready.’

  Kirsten was gazing up at him, taking in every line and every shade of his hypnotic blue eyes. She lifted a hand and ran her thumb gently over his lips, then pulling herself from his arms she got up from the sofa and went to turn off the light.

  When she returned she stood in front of him. He looked up at her and she smiled at the confusion in his eyes. She held them with her own as her fingers untied the knot in her dressing gown. She saw him look down at what she was doing, then raise his eyes questioningly back to hers. She shrugged the dressing gown over her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet, then one by one she unfastened the buttons of her pyjama jacket. A tiny murmur escaped his lips as she bared her breasts to him and let the jacket fall to the floor. Then hooking her thumbs under the waistband of the flimsy silk trousers she eased them down over her hips and stepped out of them.

  Her skin glowed like burnt amber in the firelight, her coppery hair curled tantalizingly about her shoulders.

  ‘Dear God, have you got any idea just how beautiful you are?’ he murmured softly, taking her by the hand.

  ‘Make love to me, Laurence,’ she said, her voice catching on her desire as she looked down at him.

  As their fingers entwined he circled his other hand around her hips and scooped her towards him burying his face in the musky scent of her. Then both his hands were on her buttocks, massaging them gently as he pulled her closer. He felt her shudder as he pushed his tongue into the tender, sensitive flesh and was aware of the way he too was responding.

  His fingers grazed lightly over her thighs, barely touching her, yet it was as though he was igniting a thousand tiny sparks inside her. She pushed her fingers into his thick, dark hair then her head fell back as he took her as far into his mouth as he could. His hands moved to the backs of her legs and he pulled her forward so that she fell on to her knees
over him. His mouth was on a level with her breasts now, but after softly kissing each swollen nipple he looked up into her eyes.

  ‘Are you sure?’ he whispered, circling her waist with his hands. ‘Is this what you really want?’

  Kirsten laughed huskily. ‘You have to ask?’ she said.

  There was no answering smile, his eyes were too clouded with love, his lips too bound by the sheer intensity of emotion welling inside him. He lifted her off him, sitting her on the sofa beside him. Then dropping to his knees in front of her he raised her legs up on to the luxuriant patterned silk cushions. With one hand he gently pushed her back so that she was lying down and her entire body was laid bare to his lips. All the time he kissed her, moving his mouth from the velvety smoothness of her naval, down to her thighs, to her toes and back to the delicious succulence of her nipples, he held on to her hand, squeezing it, caressing it and curling his fingers around hers. It was as though this joining of their hands was every bit as intimate as the one they were moving inexorably towards.

  Then he was sitting at her feet, easing her legs apart. Their eyes were locked and they remained that way as he lifted her knees and ran his hands along the insides of her thighs. When he reached her and felt the heat of her burn through his fingertips Kirsten’s eyes fluttered closed. She could feel the probing hardness of his fingers as slowly, agonizingly, he pushed them into her; then came the warmth of his breath as he moved closer and closer to her. Then his tongue was there, once again moving languorously across that most sensitive part of her. As though from a great distance she heard herself whimper as his lips closed around her, sucking her gently and drawing every sensation of her body into the very depths of his mouth.

  Again he reached out for her hand, lacing their fingers as with his tongue he teased and tormented her. The faint contractions deep inside her were beginning to mount, her feet came to rest on his shoulders, her head was moving from side to side. Her fingers tightened around his, squeezing them and twisting them as he drew her ever closer to the edge. His own desire was a solid, pounding force, the depth of his love was like a liquid heat flowing through his veins.

  ‘Laurence,’ she murmured. She struggled to sit up, but as the pressure of his tongue increased she fell back again. ‘Laurence,’ she whispered. ‘Laurence, I want you.’ She groaned and sobbed as his mouth moved through her dark thatch of hair. Her legs fell from his shoulders, her breasts rose to meet the descent of his lips.

  ‘Laurence,’ she said, taking his face between her hands. ‘I want to see you.’

  He pulled her up into his arms and covered her mouth with his in a kiss so tender, so intimate and so filled with the immensity of his feelings that Kirsten felt as though her heart was swimming in an entire ocean of love.

  ‘Take off your clothes,’ she murmured, when finally he pulled back to look into her eyes.

  A glimmer of humour leapt into his eyes as, letting her go, he hauled his sweater and T-shirt over his head.

  Kirsten lifted her hands to caress the hardened muscles of his shoulders. ‘Laurence, tell me you love me, please.’

  ‘I love you, honey,’ he whispered, running a finger over her lips. ‘I love you more than I know how to say.’ He stood up and resting one arm on the back of the sofa and the other on the arm behind her he stooped to kiss her. As he did her fingers moved to his belt, tugging it free of its loops, before starting on the zip below it. In the end, because he was already so very hard, he removed his jeans himself. And as he stood over her, showing her the full extent of his physical need for her, Kirsten drew herself up to her knees and took first one, then the other testicle into her mouth, massaging them gently with her tongue. But, as she circled her fingers around the stem of his penis and made to draw him towards her, he took her wrists in his hands and pulled her to her feet.

  ‘Honey, I can’t hold out much longer,’ he murmured, draping his arms about her waist and pulling her against his straining erection. ‘I wanna be with you, right there inside you.’

  Feeling a surge of near delirious joy Kirsten brushed her lips gently over his, before taking his arms from her waist and drawing him down with her to the floor.

  The burning embers of the fire cast dark golden shadows over the splendid nakedness of their entwining bodies, and as Laurence filled her with the whole of his desire Kirsten felt herself being submerged. He moved slowly, tenderly, holding his entire body against hers, keeping their lips together, rolling and pushing his hips, feeling her hands exploring the taut muscles of his back and buttocks while yielding herself up completely and unconditionally to wave after wave after wave of the most exquisite, most profound sensations either of them had ever known.

  A long time later they were still lying in front of the fire. Laurence was stretched out on his back, one hand behind his head, the other idly toying with a glass of champagne. Kirsten was on her side, her head propped up on one arm as she gazed laughingly down at him.

  ‘I don’t see what’s so funny,’ he remarked, raising his head to take a sip of the champagne. ‘It was hell, I’m telling you . . .’

  ‘Oh, poor Laurence,’ Kirsten mocked. ‘Got all confused about his emotions and now he’s looking for sympathy.’

  ‘Damned right I am,’ he said, ‘but it sure doesn’t look like I’m going to get it around here.’

  ‘No, you could be right there,’ Kirsten nodded, leaning forward to take a sip from the glass he was holding out for her. At the last minute he swung it away and as a look of indignance widened her eyes he pulled her into his arms.

  ‘It was hell,’ he said softly, ‘but I guess it was a whole lot worse for you. But I’m gonna make it up to you, Kirstie, you know that, don’t you? I’m here for good now unless you tell me no.’

  ‘Do you think I’m going to do that?’ she said, teasing him with her eyes.

  ‘I hope to God not.’ He looked at her. ‘No, I guess you know as well as I do that we’re a hell of a lot better together than we ever could be apart.’ He rolled over on to his side, cushioning his head on his elbow and running a hand lazily over her arm. ‘You sure about this now?’ he said. ‘No doubts?’

  ‘No doubts,’ Kirsten assured him, knowing that in that moment it was true.

  ‘And if there are any, if you feel afraid, if you ever get scared about anything, you’ll tell me?’

  She nodded. ‘I’ll tell you.’

  He smiled. ‘Just make sure you do. And from now on no more pretence. I don’t care who knows about us . . .’

  Kirsten put a finger over his lips. ‘I don’t want anyone to know,’ she said. ‘At least not yet. Let’s get the movie done. That’s what’s important now. I don’t want the press saying that I’ve managed to lure you back into my web, or doing whatever they can to come between us, so let’s keep it as our secret for now, mm?’

  ‘We’ll do it whichever way you say,’ he answered. ‘Just so long as you know that I love you is all that matters to me.’

  27

  The oppressive, grey-stoned sixteenth-century mansion was set high on the cliffs in one of the bleakest parts of Cornwall. Far below its foundations a turbulent, treacherous sea hurled itself savagely against the rocks and crashed purposefully into every cove and secret cave along the barren, almost sinister, coastline. The sounds of laughter and music and excitable children carried incongruously on the raging wind that swept the stark landscape and brightly flickering Christmas lights reflected their warmth on to windows that were blackened by night and drenched by driving rain.

  As he pulled his car to a halt outside the towering iron-studded front door he felt a shiver of unease run down his spine. He knew already what would happen – he would be taken straight through to the study where she would be waiting for him. He wouldn’t meet her family, it was doubtful he would even see them. Her grandchildren were as precious to her as her power, her sons and daughters as cherished as any could be and during this festive season she wouldn’t want her family disturbed by the intrusion of a strange
r.

  Some five minutes later, having been relieved of his coat and led discreetly through a number of gloomy passageways in a circuitous route to the study, he was standing at the threshold of the large, comfortably furnished room watching Dyllis Fisher stooping to stoke up the fire.

  The silent, liveried footman who had brought him here closed the door quietly and as his footsteps receded into the distance Dyllis straightened and turned around. She was a tall, painfully thin woman with neat grey hair and a sharp-boned face that aged her beyond her seventy-two years. She was dressed in an expensive, formal beige suit that matched the colour of her piercing, hawk-like eyes. Deeply ingrained frown lines creased her forehead and indented the corners of her thin-lipped mouth, and he knew that beneath the exquisite, sapphire broach pinned to her jacket beat a heart of pure malice.

  As she walked towards him, holding out a bony hand to shake his, he struggled to keep his eyes from the magnificent portrait hanging over the hearth. He’d been here before so it wasn’t the first time he’d seen the painting of her husband and he knew how much it could move him. He, like so many others, had adored Paul Fisher and could only wonder why a man like that had ever married a woman like Dyllis Fisher. That was how he felt now, but six years ago when Fisher had deserted his wife and gone off to France with Kirsten Meredith, he had felt sorry for Dyllis. He hadn’t known Dyllis then and neither had he known what it was to be in the presence of someone who was as vengeful as she was powerful. Now he knew both. But as much as her malevolence disturbed, even frightened him, it exhilarated him too.