For a few tense seconds every angrily circling bird fell silent as if shocked by the lie. Then, heavily, Leon sighed.
'Let's sit for a while, Kate. I think it's time we had a serious talk, don't you?'
'What… what is there to talk about?' she stammered, alarmed by the insistent pressure of his hand upon her shoulder, levering her down upon the waterproof he had spread at her feet.
Dropping easily down beside her, he answered her question with a mild observation. 'Just lately, I've been moving more and more towards the conviction that people often reflect the character of their surroundings. You, for instance,' his head swung round to pin her startled face with sombre amber eyes, 'appear to possess affections that are as diverse as the Shetland landscape, one moment unyielding as granite and the next radiating the breathtaking appeal of hills emerging from the deep blue stillness of early morning. Then again, there are times when you betray the tough, hardy spirit of islanders reputed to have more salt than blood in their veins, and others when you seem as dignified and aloof as a Nordic snow princess.'
Catriona remained very still, her arms clasped around her knees, keenly sensitive to an atmosphere that had turned explosive—as if a sizzling fuse were about to ignite beneath his blanket of calm conversation.
'Unfortunately,' he confessed on a harsh note of apology, 'I, too, often reflect the character of my earlier surroundings an ugly mining town offering no sense of continuity, inhabited mainly by a race of nomadic oilmen who regarded responsibility as a burden to be shifted as quickly as possible on to the shoulders of Destiny, Chance, Circumstance, or his nearest gullible neighbour.'
She stirred restlessly but did not interrupt when he dredged deeper to unearth what was obviously his most painful memory.
'During childhood days and early adolescence, my aunt was the only female influence in my life. She had many faults, but she was all I had and I loved her, Kate,' he admitted heavily. 'Consequently, I grew up using her as a criterion of womanhood, convinced that the ideal female was pretty but vain; flirtatious but flighty, prone to making ardent promises then breaking them without apology or remorse. Until you walked into my life,' his voice lowered to a depth of sincerity that caused her pulses to soar high as circling wings, 'I had no idea any other sort of girl existed which was partly my own fault, I suppose, for as Geoff succinctly pointed out, one is hardly likely to meet a teetotaller in a drinking saloon.'
'You've spoken to Geoff?' Wincing from the reminder of an accusation branded heavily as shame upon her heart, she dared to swing round to face him. 'You didn't… you haven't…?'
Making no pretence of misunderstanding the plea directed by hurt green eyes, Leon slowly shook his head.
'No, thank goodness, I can still number Geoff among my friends though only just,' he admitted wryly. 'You're the only person I've offended by voicing a suspicion which your shocked, stricken look immediately proved to be unfounded. I would have given my right arm for sufficient time to right the wrong I inflicted upon you that day, Kate,' he groaned, holding her eyes with a tortured look, yet making no move towards her. 'Lord knows, I didn't escape punishment, for a man locked away in solitary confinement finds plenty of time to meditate, to reflect upon his sins.'
In spite of the frenzied panic aroused by the sight of his fiery head lowering deliberately towards her, in spite of the fact that a nerve kicking in his cheek seemed to indicate that the arrogant oil boss was having great difficulty controlling a surging well of emotion, Catriona could not bite back a bitter retort.
'Am I hearing aright? Are you actually on the verge of admitting to an error, of conceding that you might possibly have been mistaken in your judgment of my morals?'
Much to the relief of nerves strained taut as elastic, Leon paused with his lips hovering a mere fraction away from hers as if to reassess his chances. When she refused to cower, continued to storm at him with her eyes, he condemned tightly,
'Dammit, Kate, must you fight me all the way? I've already apologised for my behaviour, but if you'd like me to, I'm even prepared to grovel! I'm sorry as hell to have hurt you; please try to forgive me, forget your Sheltie pride and surrender as only a woman can—without fear of defeat!'
Reminding herself of how often his sharp claws had remained sheathed—but waiting; how his eyes could convey gentleness, then suddenly revert to fire, she retaliated swiftly, before her traitorous body could bend beneath his will. Tilting a defiant chin, she accused with distaste,
'Understandably, an oil king can become accustomed to easy conquests during his black reign, but perhaps you might find it easier to understand my reluctance to become one of your subjects if I remind you that I belong to a race that's been repelling invaders for hundreds of years!'
When his head reared proudly she was reminded of the lion rampant worn like a talisman on his protective helmet. Then without warning he pounced, kissing her breathless as he forced her down among the heather, confirming her theory that she had been right to fight wary of being fooled by the mask of humility he had worn with unease, by refusing to believe that he was anything other than the hard, ruthless, impatient, domineering oil boss who had promised her a job for as long as he was kept amused by the novelty of taming a vixen, who had employed her as a decoy to distract attention from illicit affairs designed to break the monotony of his solitary rest days.
Behind a barrier of downcast lashes she fought hard against a languorous tide of longing; imposed the stillness of a statue upon a body crushed by hands seeking to arouse response, willed the chill of marble upon lips kissed to the keen glowing pink of wild thyme being tossed into a fragrant frenzy by a passing breeze.
She experienced no sense of triumph when, after a prolonged, sensuous onslaught he finally conceded defeat by lifting his mouth from hers to deride bitterly,
'You win, Mistress Kate! Clearly, you intend clinging to your bonnet of virtue until you're a "bittock" of thirty!'
She lay gasping, fighting to regain her breath and her scattered sanity, then braced before jumping to her feet to stagger backward until there was a yard of safe ground between herself and the temptation, growing stronger by the minute, to join the ranks of girls who had been wooed and then discarded by the man who had been careful to omit the word love from his extensive vocabulary.
Slowly he straightened, casting his dark, angry shadow over a trembling quarry whose piteous, tear-bright eyes were begging for compassion. For long-drawn-out seconds he returned her stare, fists clenching and unclenching as if desire were fighting a war with conscience, then as suddenly as a lamp being extinguished the flame in his amber eyes died, leaving them dark and deeply brooding.
'Don't look at me like that, Kate!' he jerked. 'If we can't share love, at least don't let us part in danger.'
'Love?' she choked, pushed to the brink of despair by this last sad play upon her emotions. 'I'd imagined you were a stranger to the word!'
She saw his tall frame jerk rigid, then had to harden her heart against what sounded almost like sincerity in his breathed accusation,
'How can you possibly doubt my love when for weeks I've been trying as hard as I know how to prove how much you mean to me? I admit that at first I was reluctant to put a name to an emotion so powerful it rendered me unable, for the first time ever, to concentrate my mind upon work; that pushed me to the verge of losing the respect of a valued friend through unreasonable jealousy. An emotion that filled me with despair and frustration when there appeared to be no hope of it ever being returned; that made me act savagely towards you when all I really wanted was to be gentle; made me ruthless instead of kind; forced me to rush impatiently when I knew how imperative it was to tread cautiously, one step at a time. It must be love I feel for you, Kate,' he groaned, 'either that, or I've gone suddenly and completely mad!'
'Leon!' She managed to gasp his name in spite of a tight throat, a heart beating powerfully as a great skua's wings. 'Oh, my poor love!'
She had managed to stum
ble no more than a couple of steps towards him before she was pulled hard against his chest, imprisoned within arms forming a tight band of possession that seemed determined never to let her go.
'Leon, my darling,' she whispered, lifting a shaking hand to stroke his temple where silver threads were lightly intermingled with dark russet red. 'If only you'd told me sooner! You must find the word love terribly hard to say!'
'I'll practise saying it to you every day for the rest of my life, Kate my love,' he promised huskily. Then with a return of the amber gleam that assured her that in spite of enjoying his role of humble subject the masterful king of the jungle was waiting in the wings, he growled softly against her inviting lips,
'But as it may take me quite some time to achieve a satisfactory standard of elocution, I'll continue communicating my love in the manner I know best—by constant and thorough demonstration!'
At first, he kissed her tenderly, gently, uncertainly as a thirsty traveller approaches a mirage, but when he discovered that she was real, urgently and sweetly responsive, he unleashed virile passion, drowning her in kisses, drawing her deeper and deeper into unexplored depths until she felt saturated with love, tossed by passionate currents, while lovingly, gradually, expertly, he initiated her into the heady, abandoned, delightful sensation known to lovers and divers alike as 'rapture of the deep'…
Rapture of the Deep Page 15