by Penny Jordan
Angrily, she paced the kitchen, reliving the things he had said to her, marvelling at his skilled deceit. A person would actively have to enjoy lying and causing pain to be so good at it, she decided. And in her case, Daniel had really stood to score a ‘double whammy’, firstly in making her fall in love with him, and secondly…Because he no doubt expected that once he had her in bed, in his arms, her brain would turn to such complete mush that she would be willing to agree with anything he had to say, be it the fact that the moon was made of green cheese, or that she would be willing to publicly retract everything she had said about the centre and the business he ran.
When the tears she had tried to suppress filled her eyes, flooding them as they poured down her face, she clenched her hands into small fists and told herself to stop being even more of a fool than she already was.
The man she was crying for simply did not exist, and instead of crying she ought to be down on her knees giving thanks for Daniel’s drunken friend’s timely intervention, instead of…
Instead of what? she asked herself with bitter scorn. Instead of learning the truth tomorrow, or the day after… instead of having a few worthless hours of continued make-believe to taunt and torment her for the rest of her life?
How long was Daniel likely to be, and what would he do when he did return? Would he have the gall to simply ignore what had happened and assume that they could continue from where they had left off before his friend had arrived?
And what would she do, for instance, if he were to walk in now and simply take her in his arms?
She would resist him, reject him, of course. Wouldn’t she?
Perhaps it might be wiser for her to go to her room, she acknowledged. An act not of cowardice or retreat, but simply of retrenchment.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WEARILY, Daniel let himself into the silent, empty kitchen. He had had to stay longer with Dai than he had planned, not merely because of his neighbour’s drunken insistence on relating to him over and over again the history of the break-up of his marriage, but because of his concern for Dai’s state of health.
The break-up of his marriage had hit him very badly. Despite all the apparent evidence to the contrary he had been, and in Daniel’s opinion still was, desperately in love with his ex-wife. The financial problems which had resulted from their break-up were merely a focal point for the emotions the Welshman felt otherwise unable to voice; it was easier for a man of his upbringing and nature to curse his ex-wife as a money-grabbing bitch than to admit that her loss had left a gaping wound in his life that nothing was ever going to heal.
Dai’s increased reliance on heavy drinking as a means of trying to anaesthetise that pain was only making matters worse; even so, his timing could have been better, Daniel acknowledged tiredly. He had tried to telephone Christa to let her know that he was going to be delayed, but when she hadn’t answered the phone he had assumed that she had already gone to bed.
Her own bed…alone…when, by rights, right now she ought to have been in his bed…in his arms…A soft groan escaped past his gritted teeth. It had shocked him to discover how dangerously easily his need for her made him lose control.
In the past he had come to the conclusion that one of the reasons he seemed unable to fall completely and deeply in love was because he was too analytical, too much in control.
How wrong he had been, as Christa’s presence in his life had proved. What he had been lacking previously hadn’t been the ability to feel deeply enough on his partjust the right woman.
And Christa was that woman. He had known it immediately and instinctively, but she…He shook his head slightly.
One day soon, he hoped she would tell him what had made her so prickly and defensive and why she was so reluctant to allow herself to trust him.
His eyes clouded as he started to frown. He had always believed that mutual trust was one of the most important foundation stones of any intimate relationship, and yet here he was on the verge of making what for him and, he suspected, for Christa was a very intense and personal emotional and physical commitment, when he knew in his heart of hearts that Christa was still withholding a part of herself from him; that she did not trust him fully and completely…that she seemed, in some way, almost to want to have a reason for not trusting him—as a means of preserving an escape route from a relationship she was not really sure she wanted to commit herself to—because she sensed, and perhaps feared, the intensity of his commitment to her.
These days, many women were just as wary of giving up the independence they had fought so hard for as men had once been accused of doing, and Daniel, for one, didn’t blame them, but there was no way he would ever want Christa to simply become his faithful shadow, to cease being her outspoken, feisty self, no way at all. And if he was honest it hurt him that she could think anything else.
He loved her for the woman she was. Loved her…needed her…desired her.
He closed his eyes, grinding his teeth slightly. When she had looked at him today and told him that she wanted him, that she didn’t want to wait…
He knew that most people who knew him considered him to be a very controlled, laid-back type of person, not given to impetuosity or outbursts of intense passion.
If they could have seen what was going through his mind earlier on today, they would certainly have had a shock, he acknowledged grimly. He had been slightly shocked himself, and if he had given in to his feelings he would have tumbled Christa straight into the Land Rover and…Well, suffice it to say, he doubted that they would have made it back to the farm…
But that wasn’t how he wanted their first time together to be. Perhaps he was being over-emotional and overromantic, but their first time together wasn’t something he wanted to rush, like fast-food snatched and gobbled down to satisfy a sharp and immediate hunger.
Making love with her, loving her, was something he wanted to take slowly and savour—a meal, to continue the food simile, in which every mouthful…He could feel his heart racing as though he had just run a steep mountain incline.
He glanced at his watch. It was just gone midnight. Was Christa asleep?
Quietly, he left the kitchen, making his way upstairs. Christa’s bedroom door was closed. He paused outside it and then turned the handle slowly. Christa was lying on her side, her face half turned into the pillow, her hair a silky, tumbled skein of softness he longed to reach out and touch. The moonlight through the curtains bathed her exposed shoulder and arm in pale, soft light.
As he watched her, Christa moved restlessly in her sleep, her forehead creasing into a frown, dark smudges beneath her eyes as though…as though she had been crying.
Daniel caught his breath on a fierce tide of emotion and longing. Crying? For him? He ached to reach out and touch her, to wake her gently with whispered words of love and soft kisses, to watch as her eyes opened in surprise and pleasure, soft with love—and desire—but what he wanted from her went far, far beyond mere sex, beyond even a deep physical intimacy. He loved her and wanted her in his life permanently, but he wasn’t so sure that she felt the same way about him. Something was holding her back, coming between them, despite what she had said to him today.
Physically she might be prepared to commit herself to him, and if Dai hadn’t arrived when he had, Daniel knew that by now they would have become lovers, but Dai had arrived, giving him time to think and question. His original decision had been the right one, he suspected, especially if he was right in thinking that part of the reason for the ambiguity of Christa’s feelings for him lay in her antagonism towards his work.
Better to wait until the course and everything that went with it was behind them before…
If he could manage to control himself for that long. Well, at least tomorrow shouldn’t prove too difficult to get through, he acknowledged ruefully, as his glance was caught by the boots Christa had purchased earlier. They would be out on the mountain for a good part of the day.
It was ironic that he would be conducting
an exercise designed to promote and reward mutual trust and dependence on a one-to-one basis with the one woman he wanted, above all other people, to trust him and the one woman whom he suspected did not.
Very, very gently he bent down and brushed the lightest of kisses over her bare shoulder…the very lightest of kisses. Even so, as he straightened up, the tension in his body was so fierce, so intense, that he could feel his muscles shuddering under the impact of forcing it down.
In his heart of hearts he knew that, no matter what Christa might say, no matter what she might believe, she felt she was still not ready to give him the wholehearted commitment and trust that he wanted. And no matter how good the sex between them was—and he knew already that it would be good for him—without that commitment and trust it could never be enough.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
Angrily Christa turned away from Daniel, her fingers curling tensely round the mug of hot coffee she was drinking. How dared he sound so—so…caring and concerned…so genuine, when she knew—and he must know that she knew—just how much of a fabrication his supposed concern really was?
‘Of course I’m all right,’ Christa lied tersely, still avoiding looking at him. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ she added challengingly.
Last night had been bad enough, hurtful enough, but waking up this morning had been like waking into a nightmare.
‘I’m sorry…about last night…I did ring but you must have gone to bed,’ Daniel had told her when she had finally forced herself to go downstairs.
She had shaken her head over his question about what she wanted for her breakfast.
‘You must have something,’ he had insisted. ‘We’ve got a long day ahead of us and lunch will only be hot soup and a sandwich. Once we get out on to the mountain you’ll find you need every ounce of energy you can muster.’
‘Yes, I suppose I must, mustn’t I?’ she had agreed acidly.
It had been on the tip of Christa’s tongue to tell him in no uncertain terms that she was staying exactly where she was, but caution had prevailed. At least walking would give her something to do other than brood over her unhappiness, her misery and her hurt.
Hurt. Such a small word to describe such an enormity of pain.
She didn’t know how Daniel had the sheer gall to behave as though nothing had happened, watching her with that cheating, cruel pretence of caring in his eyes, when all the time—
’I thought you said you wanted an early start,’ she reminded him coldly now, finishing her coffee and getting up but firmly keeping her back towards him so that she didn’t have to look at his face, his eyes…his mouth.
Oh, dear God, please don’t let those tears she could feel burning so treacherously behind her eyes dare start to fall and betray her.
‘Christa…’
‘I’ll go and get my stuff on,’ she told him stonily, ignoring him.
Half an hour later, when she came back downstairs, her heart felt even heavier than the boots on her feet. Much, much heavier.
Alongside her anger and bitterness ran a frightening thread of panic and pain. Despite what she now knew about him, a part of her was terrified that she might not be strong enough to do what she knew she had to do; that her emotions, her love, might defeat and betray her. She couldn’t look at Daniel without remembering how it had felt to be held in his arms, without a part of her still achingly wanting to be there, to ignore the truth and make believe that he hadn’t lied to her, had meant all those things he had said to her.
She was afraid of her own vulnerability, she recognised, as she turned away to avoid meeting the questioning, frowning scrutiny Daniel was giving her.
‘Come over here and sit down,’ he commanded, catching her off guard and gently pushing her down into a chair before she could resist.
When he knelt on the floor at her feet, for one heart-stopping moment she thought he was actually going to throw himself on her mercy and beg for her forgiveness, and, as she looked down at his dark, downbent head and the unexpected vulnerability of his exposed nape, she ached with love and longing for him.
His hands were encircling her ankle, moving her foot within her new boot.
‘These laces aren’t fastened quite tightly enough,’ he told her.
Her boots…He was checking up to see if she had fastened her boots properly. A semi-hysterical bubble of mock laughter forced its way into her throat at the contrast between the prosaic reality of his intentions and her fantasy imaginings.
‘And you mustn’t leave the laces trailing like that,’ he added, deftly untying them and tightening them before quickly re-tying them for her. ‘You could trip over them and fall.’
‘Thank you.’ Christa spat the words out as though they were grit. As Daniel lifted his head to look at her she could see the questioning scrutiny in his eyes, but she refused to respond to it. Why the hell didn’t he take his damned hands away from her body?
If he kept on holding her ankle in that ridiculously theatrical pseudo-loverlike grip, stroking his thumb against the inside of her ankle as though he just couldn’t resist the need to touch her, she was going to have to tell him exactly what she thought of him. Either that, or…She just managed to suppress her small betraying gasp as her body responded treacherously to him, quivering shocks of pleasure making her tremble so openly that she had to jerk herself free of his constraining grip.
As they left the farm and headed for the track which led up into the mountains, Christa tried not to think about how things might have been if only they had not been interrupted. Would they have still been doing this this morning, or would they still be in bed together, their bodies entwined in sensual warmth?
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Daniel asked her, turning round to wait for her to catch up with him. ‘Earlier you looked pale; now you look very flushed.’
‘I’m fine,’ Christa lied for the second time.
To the untrained eye—her eye, Christa admitted unwillingly—the path Daniel had taken climbed slowly and easily up the lower slopes of the mountainside, but her body, and in particular her legs, had a different opinion. She was not a fitness fanatic but she had always enjoyed walking and did so regularly, often choosing to do so in preference to using her car. Her kind of walking, though, bore no resemblance to what she was doing now. It wasn’t just her anger and pain that were responsible for her monosyllabic responses to Daniel’s easy conversation.
Not only were her legs aching; her lungs were beginning to feel the strain as well.
A surreptitious glance at her watch told her that they had only been walking for a couple of hours and that it was barely eleven o’clock. Daniel had said they would rest for lunch at twelve-thirty and then start to make their way back.
‘You’re doing very well,’ she heard Daniel tell her warmly. ‘Most of our first-timers protest that they’ve had enough at this stage.’
Did they, indeed? Stoically Christa gritted her teeth, firmly trying to ignore the agonised messages from her protesting calf muscles.
‘If you do want a rest, there’s a good place to stop a few yards on, where you can get an excellent view of the farm and…’
‘I don’t want to stop,’ Christa told him fiercely. ‘I just want to get this whole charade over and done with…’
She bit angrily into her lip as Daniel stopped walking and stood in front of her, forcibly stopping her as well.
‘Look, something is wrong,’ he told her quietly. ‘Don’t, please don’t deny it…If it’s because of last night…’
‘If…’ Christa exploded, unable to hold back her anger any longer. ‘If…How could there be any “if” about it?’ she blazed furiously. ‘How could…?’
‘Look, I understand…I was…disappointed as well…’ Daniel interrupted her.
‘Disappointed…’ Christa stared at his face, her whole body flushing with mortified colour as she realised what he was implying. ‘My God, your arrogance is just unbelievable,’ she told him. She laughed w
ith bitter wildness. ‘Disappointed about what, Daniel…? Disappointed about missing out on going to bed with you? And what a wonderful experience that would have been for me, wouldn’t it? Wonderful but, of course, hardly unique…Not for me. And not for all the other gullible fools who’ve been deceived and lured into your bed before me…’
‘Christa, what…?’
She could hear the shock and bewilderment in his voice, see them in his face, and with them too she could see his pain…His pain…
‘The game’s over, Daniel,’ she warned him. ‘There isn’t any point in bothering to lie to me any more. Not now that Dai has given the game away. No wonder his wife left him if he’s been trying to model himself on you. What was it he said about you? Oh, yes, I remember now, he said he envied you your string of conquests and the opportunities your business gave you to add to them—and to add to your bank balance at the same time.’ Christa’s voice dripped sarcasm as she threw the words at him, pride and anger driving her on through the pain which had buried its cruel talons in her heart.
‘Christa, no…’ she heard Daniel protesting. ‘Please listen to me. You misunderstood—’
‘Misunderstood?’ Christa interrupted him acidly. ‘Oh, no, Daniel. You’re the one who’s done that. Not that you’re the only one to blame…’ Her mouth curled in a bitter humourless smile. ‘After all, it wasn’t as though I didn’t know what type you were, how little you could be trusted…I should have listened to what my brain was telling me instead of—’
‘How little I could be trusted?’ Daniel questioned her sadly. ‘Or how little you wanted to trust me. Christa, what Dai said has no bearing whatsoever on the reality of my life; it’s simply his interpretation, his fantasy if you like, of the way he believes he would live were he in my shoes—a means of asserting his manhood, of restoring his faith in his masculinity.’
Christa’s mouth had suddenly gone very dry, her voice an angry whisper as she demanded, ‘If that’s the truth, then why didn’t you say something at the time; why did you let him…?’