by Penny Jordan
‘Simon…please…I feel faint…’
‘Do you?’ His mouth curled, and the glitter was now burning into feral intent. ‘How very Victorian of you, but you won’t escape me that way. You and I have to talk…’
‘There’s nothing for us to talk about.’
‘Isn’t there…? What about the small matter of our contract; the fact that you agreed to work for me until my research was finished?’
Christy almost gasped. Surely he wouldn’t want her to work for him now?
‘What’s the matter? Doesn’t Trent want his woman working for another man? You gave me your virginity, Christy. Me!’ He ground the words out thickly, his eyes never leaving her face, registering every small change of emotion. ‘Yes, that’s something you can’t deny is it, no matter how much you might want to? Why did you? Didn’t Trent want you as a virgin? He doesn’t know what he’s missed. Perhaps I ought to tell him.’
Christy had gone white. She couldn’t speak for the pain lodged deep inside her body spreading tentacles out all over it, choking her…killing her…
‘Ah Simon, you gorgeous man, there you are. You don’t mind if I steal him away from you for a while do you, Christy?’ Charmaine put her arm through Simon’s smiling professionally at Christy. Mind? If only the other woman knew. She could tell that Simon did not want to go; that he hadn’t finished with her, but already Charmaine was chattering away to him, making it easy for her to make her escape. She looked longingly into the garden. Her skin felt hot…too hot and she longed to breathe in fresh air. As she hovered uncertainly in the doorway a maid came in with a fresh tray of canapés. Christy stopped her and asked if there was any way she could get into the garden unobtrusively. She didn’t want to use the main entrance and risk being seen by Simon, who would undoubtedly follow her, intent on further torment.
‘There’s some French windows in the sitting room, Miss,’ the maid told her. ‘They’re normally unlocked. Are you feeling all right?’ she added anxiously. ‘If there’s something I could get you?’
‘No, I’m fine, just a little overheated.’ Charmaine had obviously trained her staff well, and leaving the girl looking rather anxiously after her Christy followed her directions as to how she might find the sitting room.
The cool, fresh evening air was bliss against her burning skin. She wanted to walk and go on walking for ever; as though by doing so she might somehow escape from beneath the burden of her unwanted emotions. Simon here? That was the last thing she had thought of, but why not? After all he was as much a part of the publishing world as Miles…Miles…She hoped he wasn’t worrying about her, but he had been so engrossed in his conversation she doubted that he had even realised she had gone.
She was a little surprised that Simon had guessed she had gone to Miles, but then of course she had allowed him to believe that she and Miles were romantically involved. Surely though it was stretching the imagination too far to suspect that he had come down here simply to seek her out? He could want to see her as little as she did him, although for far different reasons. She had left partially because she could not trust herself to stay without betraying her feelings and partially because she could not endure the thought of Simon believing she had made love with him using her virginity to trap him into a relationship he did not want, as he had accused her of trying to do in the past.
She shivered, suddenly realising that she was cold. For a perceptive man, Simon was behaving totally irrationally. Surely he himself must realise that it was better for her to leave? He didn’t want any emotional involvement with her; he loved someone else. He had wanted her sexually yes, but to berate her with breaking their contract…She knew his work meant a lot to him, but surely not more than the risk of allowing her to become emotionally involved with him; not after what had happened when she was a teenager. The more she thought about his behaviour the less Christy understood it. He had behaved like a man consumed with a bitter need for vengeance…for vengeance against whom and for what?
Slowly she re-traced her steps. She should not have run away from him; she should have allowed him to talk…In fact she had been foolish to leave his apartment in the first place, the way that she had, but then she had acted on emotions alone. It wouldn’t take a man of his acute perceptions long to realise why she had left, and perhaps then he would leave her alone. It was humiliating to think of him guessing how she felt about him, but she must have betrayed herself a thousand or more times by now. She really ought to talk to him; to explain rationally that she did not think it was wise for them to continue to work together. He would realise why, but she could not bring herself to do so yet.
She went back into the drawing room. Miles was standing just inside the door and he smiled at her, drawing her towards him.
‘Where have you been? I was worried about you. Stay here and I’ll go and get you a drink.’
‘Worried, but not worried enough to come and find out where you were.’ Simon’s voice came from behind her, but she refused to turn round, fixing her eyes instead on Miles’ retreating back…‘Is he really what you want Christy…?’
‘Simon darling…How are you, it’s been ages.’
She was racked with jealousy at the unmistakably sexual undertones to the woman’s husky voice, but she didn’t turn round. She couldn’t. This was going to be the most awful evening. She wished she had never come.
By eleven o’clock her head was aching so badly she could scarcely endure the pain. She had hardly touched the food Miles had brought her from the buffet, and the champagne she had drunk had left her mouth dry and acid.
‘Miles, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go up to bed.’
‘No, of course not.’ He looked concerned. ‘Can I get you anything? Charmaine might…’
‘No…no…’ Christy shook her head. ‘It’s just a headache, it will probably go when I lie down.’
‘Just a headache?’ His smile was wry. ‘Oh, Christy, I think it’s a little more than that. I’ve seen the way you’ve been watching Simon when you think no one’s looking and the way he’s been watching you. Do you love him?’
What could she say? ‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Umm. Love must surely be the most painful human emotional condition—and the most pleasurable. You go off to bed then. I want to have a chat with Charles, so I’ll see you in the morning.’
Her room was a welcome haven of peace and silence. Her head ached so badly that all she wanted to do was to crawl into bed and lie there in the darkness, but first she had to undress and take off her make-up…to shower and brush her hair. At last she was free to get into bed, but sleep had never seemed more elusive. She had some tablets in her handbag. Wearily she got up and went and got them, taking two and padding into the bathroom for a glass of water. The night was warm…almost too warm, even though she had thrown open the windows. She pulled off her cotton nightdress and got back into bed, praying that tonight she would not dream about Simon. If she did, she didn’t think she could endure it.
At last the pills started to do their work. She hovered on the edge of sleep for what felt like an aeon of time and then gradually slid into its welcoming black abyss.
CHAPTER TEN
A SMALL sound woke her, and she struggled to assimilate the import of it, still muzzy with sleep. What had it been? A click…a…a sound like someone opening a door? Her door? She felt too hazy to sit up and switch on her bedside lamp and so instead she called out huskily, ‘Miles…is that you?’
It was like suddenly being confronted with an unexpected physical force, and being imprisoned by it. The lamp was snapped on, half blinding her with its unexpected brilliance. ‘No, it damned well is not.’
Simon! Now the muzziness had gone and in its place was a flowering of such intense joy that she could scarcely contain it, until reality broke through destroying it. ‘Simon, what are you doing here?’ She clutched nervously at the sheet, remembering that she was wearing nothing beneath it, convinced that she had never looked worse; her hair
a tangled mass and her face free of make-up.
‘What do you think?’
‘It’s a bit late to talk about the contract.’ She had no idea what time it was and even as she said the words they struck her as ludicrous. Simon obviously thought so too. ‘What a little ostrich you are, Christy,’ he mocked tauntingly. ‘Why isn’t Miles with you?’
His question caught her off-guard. ‘I…had a headache…I came to bed early.’
His smile was bitterly savage, with no warmth in it whatsoever. She had never seen the golden eyes glow so coldly. ‘Poor devil, he’s getting the headache treatment already and you’re not even married yet. You’ll have to admit him to your bed sometime, Christy, otherwise what will you tell him if you find you’re carrying my child, or isn’t he man enough to care? He doesn’t want you, Christie—not the way I want you, otherwise you’d never be sleeping here alone, but you already know that, don’t you?’
‘Please go away.’
His laughter jarred on her sensitive nerves. ‘My, how polite we are.’ His mouth twisted in an acid smile. ‘Almost as polite as you were the other night. “Please make love to me Simon,"’ he whispered mockingly, imitating her, bringing back images she had thought successfully banished, “‘please, please Simon…"’
‘Stop it…stop it.’ She had her hands over her ears, but he sat down on the bed and wrenched them away, gripping her wrists almost painfully as he forced her arms down. ‘Do you beg him to make love to you?’ he demanded savagely, ‘Do you?’
All she could do was shiver, and shake her head.
‘Do you know why I’ve come here tonight, Christy?’ His thumb was rubbing hypnotically against the fast pulse beating in her wrist, soothing and yet inflaming her. She felt curiously weak as though her bones were melting; as though his touch was slowly robbing her of all her ability to resist him.
‘To discuss our contract.’
The topaz eyes glittered. ‘Wrong,’ he said softly, ‘This was why I came.’
The hard pressure of his mouth on hers stunned her. She made an inarticulate protest beneath it, tensing her body, but his torso was pinning her to the bed, and his fingers were still locked round her wrists. Now his mouth was moving slowly over hers, teasing, tormenting…knowing just how to undermine her defences. He released her wrists but instead of pushing him away, her arms locked round him, and suddenly she was responding helplessly to the warm pressure of his mouth, accepting and then returning it, her lips moving against his, parting eagerly to admit the driving force of his tongue. Lost in the surge of longing only he could arouse in her, she wasn’t even aware of him tugging down the sheet until she felt his hands on her body and by then it was far too late to even think of stopping him.
When they had made love before she had had only instinct and love to guide her, now to those she could add knowledge—the knowledge of how to please and arouse him and she wanted to do both. So much that the tiny voice inside her that warned she was courting danger was silenced without even being heard. Simon was fully dressed, but although her fingers trembled occasionally over buttons and fastenings, he made no move to help her, simply watching her from between slitted eyelids, touching her so that she ached for the act of consumation. It seemed a lifetime before they were both naked and she was free to touch his skin, to shower him with kisses and to stroke feverish hands over the satin flesh that cloaked steel muscles.
‘You want me…let me hear you say it.’ There was arrogant sureness in his voice and something else…something that aroused vague memories but remained tantalisingly elusive. She ought to deny it, but what was the point; he must know by now how she felt about him; her touch, her need alone must surely have betrayed her, and surely he must care something for her to have come to her? Surely it could not simply be because he resented her going to Miles? It was as though someone had poured ice down her spine. Her body tensed and froze. Fool, fool she berated herself, of course it was exactly that. Simon didn’t care about her; he simply wanted to reinforce his domination to her. Six years ago he had rejected her and he would reject her again.
‘What’s wrong?’ He had picked up on her tension and his hands ceased their seductive movement against her skin. It was nearly killing her to do it, but she must make him leave her room before it was too late and before she betrayed herself completely.
‘I want you to leave.’
She heard him swear and winced slightly. ‘Like hell you do,’ he told her thickly. ‘You want me to stay. You want me…’
‘Just because we’ve made love once, it doesn’t necessarily mean I want to repeat the experience.’ She made herself sound cold and uncaring, hardly daring to believe she had actually deceived him, but she must have done because she felt his faint withdrawl.
‘No?’
She couldn’t see his face because he had moved out of the light, but his voice was all smooth disbelief. Like the jungle panther he was at his most dangerous when he purred, Christy thought achingly, and she would have to be on her guard.
‘Are you trying to tell me that you’d rather have Miles here in your bed?’
What could she say; how could she defend herself against him? Suddenly it came to her. ‘He at least wants to marry me.’ Her heart was pounding desperately, the tension in the silence that followed her words making her throat ache.
‘And marriage is what you want?’
She essayed a brief shrug. ‘I haven’t changed that much in six years.’ Would he believe her? It seemed impossible that he could and she could feel his eyes resting on her, assessing her. If anything could kill his desire it must be this.
‘And when you let me make love to you was it because you thought I might marry you?’
She would have to be careful here. She forced her voice to sound cool. ‘Of course not. I already knew you would not.’
‘So then why?’
She gave another shrug. ‘I seem to remember you said I owed it to you…perhaps I felt I ought to pay off all my old debts…’
The silence was hideously taut, and then she heard him swear and cringed from the violence in his voice. Quite what she might have said Christy never knew because totally unexpectedly her bedroom door opened and Miles walked in, snapping on the main light. Of the three of them he was probably the least surprised, Christy realised later. He had obviously not yet been to bed, but he did look tired.
‘I was on my way up and I thought I’d come in and see how you were.’
Christy stifled an hysterical urge to laugh, laughter turning to shock as Simon reached out and pulled her hard against him beneath the covers, his mouth warm against her ear as he said quite audibly. ‘Well, my love, here’s your chance to tell him.’ When she made no move to speak he said curtly, ‘I’m sorry you had to find out like this, Miles, but Christy has decided she prefers me.’
Christy saw Miles blink and thought it was no wonder…She half expected him to make some remark that would betray her, but instead he responded equably. ‘Er…yes…so I see. I’ll bid you both good night.’
When he had gone and the room was once again softened into shadowy lamplight Christy hissed furiously. ‘Why did you have to say that, now he’ll…’
‘He’ll what? Realise that we’re lovers? So what, we are aren’t we? He hardly appeared unduly concerned, for a man who’s supposed to be marrying you.’
Suddenly it was all too much for her. Tears spurted weakly in her eyes and dripped betrayingly on to Simon’s hand. ‘But why…what possible reason could you have for behaving like this, Simon?’
His laugh was completely mirthless. ‘One of the strongest known to man. Love!’ He saw her expression and laughed again. ‘Don’t look at me like that. Surely you’ve guessed. In fact I believe once I actually told you.’
‘You said there was someone you loved,’ Christy agreed slowly, ‘but I never imagined it was me. How could I after the way you rejected me six years ago?’
‘Look…’ he grasped her upper arms, half shaking her, ‘I reject
ed you, as you call it, then because I had no other alternative.’
‘I wanted you then, Christy and very badly, but I wasn’t ready for the sort of permanent relationship you had in mind. You were so young and idealistic. The intensity of your commitment to me scared me half to death. There were so many things I wanted to see and do, and it wasn’t just that. I knew I was already half way in love with you then, and I also knew that you were far too young to weather the potential storms there were bound to be; storms you couldn’t see at all, and that I could see too well. I suspect it was simply that there was too much blind faith on your part and too little on mine. I thought you were too young to really know your own heart. I love you, Christy, I always have. Not perhaps after the fashion of a knight on a white charger; not like the hero of a romance, but very deeply for all that; far too much to trap you in a marriage I felt sure you’d be regretting within twelve months.’
‘And now?’
It was too much for her to take in all at once; too much of a shock for her to be able to believe what he was saying.
‘And now I still love and want you. Enough to be sure we could have something together you could never have with Miles.’
‘You mean sex?’
‘I mean this.’ He leaned over and kissed her slowly, until her body surged mindlessly against his. ‘Call it by whatever name you choose, nothing can diminish its power can it?’ he asked softly.
Christy couldn’t trust herself to believe what he was saying. He couldn’t love her. It was all a trick, although why he should want to trick her in such a cruel fashion she didn’t know.
‘Passion means nothing. It will fade.’
‘Will it?’ He shifted his weight across her body and in the moonlight she saw his grim smile. ‘My passion for you as you call it, hasn’t faded in six years. If anything I love and want you more now than I did then.’
‘Enough to marry me?’