An inner sigh went up in her as bliss filled her soul. Ease from the pain that was in her was there as, held close against his heart, Ellis's mouth gentle on hers, she clung to him as if he was some life support she could not do without.
She was not conscious that her arms had gone up and around him. She was unaware that as each kiss became warmer and deeper, she was responding fully and with every fibre of her being. All she knew was that there had been an aching need in her for his touch, his kiss, and that with her heart for once ruling her head, she could no longer deny that aching need.
'Lovely Sorrel,' murmured Ellis, when his mouth left hers, his fingers pushing the shoulder-straps of her dress down her arms as he kissed and caressed the satin smoothness of her skin. 'I want you so much,' he breathed, a thickness in his voice thrilling her that she had this effect on him.
Again he kissed her mouth, passion mounting between them, so that when she was prevented by the shoulder-straps of her dress being down around her arms from putting her arms around him, when Ellis with a warm questioning look at her went to unzip the back of her dress, she had not the smallest objection to make.
Glad to be rid of the confining garment, as her dress slipped to the floor she stepped away from the garment, and Ellis threw off his jacket.
She saw his eyes go down to the flimsy covering of her lacy bra, but she had no time to feel in any way shy. For a groan left him and he picked her up in his arms, his head coming down, his mouth finding hers and staying over her lips as he carried her into the bedroom.
To lie with him, to feel him this close on her bed, to know that he wanted her with the same passion that she wanted him, was the extent of Sorrel's thinking in that heady moment of having Ellis pressing his body yet closer to hers.
'My lovely darling,' he breathed, to send her into seventh heaven, his hands caressing her, taking her on an upward heady spiral.
She was barely aware that expert fingers had found the clip to release her bra, but she was still not holding back as she heard his passionate murmur, the wonder in him as his eyes left her flushed face, and he feasted his eyes on the creamy globes of her naked breasts.
'How beautiful you are,' he whispered, and there was no thought in Sorrel of turning back when warm hands caressed her breasts, the pink hardening tips beneath his touch delighting him so that he just had to kiss each crimsoned pinnacle in turn, his lips straying down past her waist to kiss the curve of her belly.
Sorrel was in a heaven of rapture when he allowed her to help him out of his shirt, her fingers moving freely on his bare chest. Her whole body was tingling at the feel of the rough hair the moment before her breasts were crushed by that same chest as his body came over hers.
As she had helped him off with his shirt, when some minutes had passed and her need for him had her moaning out that need, she helped Ellis remove the rest of her clothes. Shyness only overcame her when, as she lay naked by him, he pulled back so that he could see the length of her unclad body.
Quickly then she moved to kiss him, and her rapture was near to being complete when he told her, 'You're so beautiful, my darling. You're body is perfection. Is it any wonder I couldn't keep away?'
'You—wanted to keep away?' she whispered, and had his mouth on hers again the moment he had breathed:
'I tried hard—but I couldn't keep away from you any longer.'
A symphony cascading in her ears to hear his confession, Sorrel was almost beside herself with wanting him. Again he kissed her, his hands stroking down her naked back, her shapely bottom and her thighs. Her heart was hammering like no other hammering she had ever felt when his hands came to her waist and he pulled her close and kissed her, and then sent her into ecstasy when he groaned:
'You've got to be mine, Sorrel. I must have you living with me.'
'Oh, Ellis!' she moaned, and was not sure then that she was not going to cry.
A second later she very nearly did begin to weep. But not from any happiness that, surely, Ellis had been asking her to marry him and go to live with him in his home in Kent.
For, his ardour still ruling him, at her sounding delighted to be his, Ellis kissed her again, crushing her slender body in his arms as he murmured, 'I can't take the thought of some other man paying your bills.'
Cold shock hit her then. Though for a few stunned seconds she lay passive in his arms. But when ice-cold horror struck hard that somehow she was lying stark naked in the arms of a man who she had once given the power to bitterly wound her, so she was leaping from the bed and with shaking hands was snatching up a robe and wrapping it hurriedly about her. The knowledge was hammering at her then that should she take up Ellis's offer of marriage, since she would have to confess how she came by her money, there was just no way she could trust him not to spurn her as once before he had spurned her—though this time it would be with destroying contempt.
A flicked glance at him showed his face was a picture of amazement that only a moment ago she had been nestling up to him moaning for more. But his amazement was to change to stupefied astonishment, when, finding what she could in the way of a voice, coldly Sorrel told him:
'I believe I told you, s-some time back, that you'd outstayed your welcome.' She turned from his astonishment as she told him, 'I'd be glad if you would kindly leave.'
'Leave!'
Just the one word left him. But the next moment he was off the bed, and she was feeling his hands rough on her shoulders and was having to face dark angry smouldering eyes as he spun her round to face him. There was nothing of the lover he had been then when harshly he gritted:
'What the hell's just got into you?'
Never more did Sorrel need to disguise her true self. But with her hair flowing down about her shoulders, her loose-fitting robe bearing no resemblance to the ultra-smart dress she had raised no objection to him removing from her, she did what she could to gather round her an air of cool detached sophistication.
'Really, Ellis,' she drawled, determined not to wince as his fingers bit into her shoulders, 'did I create such a fuss that morning you threw me out in the middle of a—passionate—interlude?'
He reeled back as though she had just struck him, instant recall his, as on a stunned breath, he exclaimed, 'My God!' his look incredulous as he charged, 'You're trying to tell me that your response to me just now was faked, put on—because you wanted to get even for something that happened—eight years ago!'
His astonishment had been mammoth before, but his shaken look made Sorrel very nearly cave in and confess the whole of it, telling him what had only just occurred to her.
But she had learned a hard lesson once, and as a glint came to Ellis's eyes that she was not backing down from her statement, which meant that she must be a hard case to have kept her head while pretending otherwise, all her instincts of self-preservation came out in full force.
'It's been quite a night, Ellis,' she drawled, observing the glint in his eyes had turned to ice at her aloof air, the furious way he jerked into his shirt telling her he would be making no attempt to, persuade her back to that bed. 'But two proposals in one night are enough for any girl.' A thought suddenly struck her. 'Or was your proposal more in the way of a proposition?'
Ellis looked at her only once before, furious, he strode from her apartment. But that one look was so enraged that only then did she guess that it was leave— or give her something to remember him by—as scathingly he tossed at her:
'Either way, proposal or proposition, I've more than enough to keep you in the style to which you've become accustomed!'
One way or another, Sorrel thought, still sitting where she had collapsed an hour earlier, it had been an emotional evening. First there had been that upset with Cynthia Armitage. Then she had been upset that she had had to hurt Rod. And now this latest upset that put both other emotional upsets well into the shade.
She wished that she could cry—but she could not. She felt defeated, dead inside—and never had she felt more unhappy.
&nb
sp; CHAPTER FIVE
Firmly deciding that she had thought enough about Ellis Galbraith and was not going to waste another second on going over again all that had kept her sleepless, Sorrel left her bed the next morning and, needing action, set herself to cleaning her flat straight away.
But, as if everything was determined to conspire against her fixing her mind on anything but him, the hairpins she had to bend to pick up from her living room carpet soon brought Ellis back with her. To remember that she had put up no sort of a fight when he had removed those pins from her hair and had taken her in his arms, brought the tears she had not shed last night very near to the surface.
'Damn him,' she whispered, but there was no hate in the sound. And Ellis was there in her head for the rest of the day. She had known deep down that it wouldn't be easy to keep him out.
Though there was no doubt in her mind that day that Ellis's suggestion that she go and live with him had not been the proposal she, with her senses all out of gear, had last night been crazy enough to think it had been. Oh, he had desired her, there had been no mistaking, that. And he had been as mad as fury when, thank the lord, from somewhere the notion had come to her to tell him that she had just been playing at evening up old scores.
For a moment her heart fluttered in panic as she wondered if she had given away too much of herself. Her response, she vividly recalled, had been all that any man could ask. But, she thought, wasn't that so much the better? She had wanted Ellis to believe her a hard case, and no longer affected by him. What better way to get him to believe that she had changed from the softhearted girl she had once been into a cool, calculating hard nut of a woman? By her cheating him at the last minute the way she had, surely by now there must be no doubt in his mind that the Sorrel Maitland he once knew no longer existed.
The memory of how she had been with him, how Ellis had been with her, was still catching her out the next day. But it was on the following day that she was able to decide just why it was he had told her, 'I can't take the thought of some other man paying your bills'. Ellis had a possessive streak she had not known about.
Had she gone to live with him for a month or so, or however long the dalliance would have lasted, he would want to possess her wholly for that period of time. He had merely been stating the fact that living with him . meant that he wanted sole rights, and would insist that he be the only one to provide everything she required.
What more proof did she want? He had cut Wenda Sykes out of his heart, out of his life, when, while she was engaged to him, he had discovered that she was taking everything he couldn't give her financially from another man.
Her telephone had been remarkably quiet of late, but when it started ringing on Thursday, Sorrel's heart went instantly erratic. That was until common sense told her she would be lucky if Ellis so much as afforded her the curt nod he had given Wenda should they ever bump into each other again.
Secure in the knowledge that Ellis's fingers would never again dial her number, Sorrel picked up the phone and, with a sense of surprise heard, contrary to her expectations, that it was Rod Drury who had dialled her number.
'Hello, Rod,' she greeted him evenly, what little thoughts she had had to spare for him sad for the hurt she had caused him. But she had not been too upset that she would not be going out with him again.
The preliminaries of how was she, and wasn't the weather nice, out of the way, Sorrel felt immediate inner agitation stir when Rod went on to remind her that it was his parents' wedding anniversary tomorrow.
'I—have remembered,' she replied slowly, hoping with all her heart that what it sounded as though she might hear him say next was not going to be what he would say—though say it he did.
'You're still coming with me?' he asked.
'I don't think that's a very good idea, Rod,' she replied as gently as she could.
'Because I rushed you by asking you to marry me?'
'I…' She hesitated. She did not want to hurt him again, but as she saw it then, hearing a suggestion in his tone that he might at some later date again ask her to marry him, there was nothing for it but to be blunt. 'Yes,' she agreed. 'But it wouldn't have done any good had you waited. I just don't want to be married.'
'I see,' he replied, and she thought then that he would soon be saying goodbye. But to her consternation, he was returning to the subject of his parents' wedding anniversary, and telling her, 'I'd like my parents to be happy this weekend, Sorrel.'
'I'm sure they will be,' she said, remembering she had thought before that Moira and Neville Drury had one of the few good marriages around.
'The thing is,' Rod persisted, delaying that goodbye, 'my parents do have a sort of blind spot where I'm concerned.'
'Oh?' said Sorrel warily.
'Mm,' he murmured. 'They know me so well, and if I go down by myself they're sure to think that we've had a row, and that I'm in the doldrums—it's bound to put a blight on what should be a perfect weekend for them.'
'You've taken other girls home before,' she said quickly, her instinct to be wary not playing her false, she saw. 'Why not call up one of your other…'
'My parents invited you,' Rod pointed out when she would rather that he hadn't. 'And besides,' he added, 'quite honestly, you're the only girl I want at my home this weekend.' And, not allowing her to get a word in, 'Also it wouldn't be fair all round, on my parents,' he put in to give another weakening prod to her resolve, 'or any girl I took home, whom I didn't want to take.'
'I'm sure you're…' Sorrel didn't get to add . 'exaggerating the case' before he was butting in:
'I promise I won't propose again, if that's what's bothering you,' further promising, as he urged, 'Come with me, Sorrel. We'll just be good pals this weekend, nothing more. I'll give you my word on that. It would mean so much to the parents.'
Sorrel put down the phone, already regretting that she had given in and said she would go. Had Rod given her a minute to breathe instead of rushing on and on to play on her conscience, to finally pressgang her by reminding her that by accepting their invitation she had as good as promised his parents that she would be there, then she was sure she could have found some good counter-argument.
The problem was that, not expecting his phone call, indeed, not expecting to hear from him again, she had had no excuse ready. And the last thing she could have told him was the only excuse that had been in the forefront of her mind the whole time—that she didn't want to go because she was afraid that Ellis Galbraith might be there.
It was while she was putting into a case all she thought she would need for the weekend that mutiny suddenly asserted itself. Why should she be afraid of meeting Ellis again, for heaven's sake? she questioned angrily. She owed him nothing, just as, after the last time she had met him, he owed her nothing. And anyway, hadn't she already come to the conclusion that should they ever bump into each other again then there would be no conversation between them? She closed the lid of her case with a snap—he wasn't even going to give a nod in her direction, was he?
True to his word, when Rod Drury came to call for her on Friday afternoon, his demeanour was that of a good friend. There was nothing in his manner to make her feel uncomfortable as he steered his car away from her apartment block. And by the time he had turned into the drive of his parents' home, Sorrel was growing of the opinion that but for the party that was to be held that night, she might well enjoy this weekend more than she had thought.
'I've given you the same room you had last time,' said Moira with a smile once their greetings were out of the way, going on to tell her, 'My two sisters and their husbands are here for the weekend too, and also Neville's brother and his wife. They're all horse-mad, of course, and are round at the stables at the moment. But we'll be having tea presently, then you'll be able to meet them all.'
'Meantime,' put in Rod, 'I'll take Sorrel's case up to her room. I've got to go up to change anyway,' he said, having called for her straight from his office. But he did not try to linger outside the door
of her room, and his casual, 'See you in about fifteen minutes,' as they went their separate ways, was a further endorsement for her that Rod was putting aside his own feelings for the sake of keeping this weekend a happy one for his parents.
Liking him more than she had ever done because of it, Sorrel did her small unpacking. She rinsed her hands and repaired her light make-up, and then, thinking that a cup of tea wouldn't be a bad idea, she left her room. She met Rod coming away from his door and went with him down the stairs to an ante-room, which was doing fill-in service since the carpet in the drawing room had been taken up in preparation for dancing later.
A lively sound of conversation greeted them when they went in. But Sorrel soon saw what a nice family Rod had, as in turn she shook hands with aunts and uncles and a couple of cousins.
Over tea-cups, horses inevitably coming into the conversation from time to time, Sorrel learned that there was to be a family dinner early that evening, but that later it would be open house with all and sundry invited. But if her thoughts would have strayed to thoughts of Ellis being there too, then as the talk again returned to horses, she pushed Ellis out of her mind and concentrated her attention on what was being said.
By the sound of it, Moira and Neville and all the relations were going to enjoy a day in the saddle tomorrow. Lunch, she heard, had already been organised at the Pig and Flute out Habberleigh way, wherever Habberleigh was.
She was starting to feel enthusiastic herself, although she did not ride and would not be part of the happy band setting out in the morning, when Rod suddenly said, 'If the weather stays like this, you'll have a terrific day,' and a hush descended on the room as everyone looked at him. There was disbelief in one of his aunt's tones when, looking scandalised, she asked:
'You're surely not suggesting that you aren't coming with us, Roderick?'
Since he was every day of twenty-nine, Rod's grin broke free to have his aunt speak to him as if he were ten years old. ' 'Fraid so, Aunt,' he replied cheerfully.
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