He raised his head. ‘Well?’ he asked softly.
‘Oh, Rome!’ she sighed, utterly lost in her passion for this man.
Suddenly he thrust her away from him, buttoning his shirt where seconds earlier she had feverishly undone it. His lip curled back. ‘Now I know why all the men in the area want you,’ he scorned harshly.
Megan blinked dazedly, feeling bereft without his arms about her. ‘You do?’
‘Oh yes,’ he let his gaze slowly roam over her. ‘You’re so damned easy they’re all queueing up to get into bed with you!’
She swallowed hard, feeling sick. ‘Wh—What did you say?’
He gave a harsh laugh. ‘I think you heard me. Do up your blouse, Megan, you look like the wanton you are standing there like that.’
She became aware of her nakedness, and her face turned fiery red as she tried to refasten her bra. It wasn’t easy, and finally Jerome pushed her hands away, pulling back her blouse and doing up the catch to her bra himself. Megan was stunned by his coolness after what she had thought to be shared passion.
‘Why did you do that?’ she asked jerkily. ‘Why did you kiss me?’
‘Why not?’ he shrugged. ‘Everyone else seems to be doing it. Now about this party …’
‘Party?’ Megan frowned. ‘What party?’
‘The Christmas party for the children,’ he explained patiently. ‘Will you know how to organise it?’
She blinked to clear her head. How could he stand there and calmly discuss a children’s party when she felt completely dazed? He was unmoved by the passionate scene that had just taken place in this room, had been through the same thing with hundreds of other women, whereas for her it had been the first time she had experienced sexual tension, the first time she had known that rise of desire, that longing for the wonderful release she knew came with full lovemaking.
And Jerome was accusing her of being a wanton! Maybe she hadn’t acted like the amateur she was, feeling an instinctive urge to touch him, to caress and kiss him as intimately as he had her. But she was an amateur, a complete innocent when it came to lovemaking, although she knew it would only take one touch of those experienced hands to bring her to fever pitch once again.
‘Rome—,’ she flinched at his anger. ‘Jerome—er—Mr Towers, I—’
‘Will you do up your blouse, for God’s sake!’ he rasped. ‘Or do you want me to do that too?’
‘I—No!’ Her hands moved automatically to do up the buttons. ‘Just now—’
‘Was an experiment, Megan.’ He moved around the desk to once more sit down. ‘You really like it, don’t you,’ he said insultingly. ‘You get turned on even by men you don’t particularly like.’
Her eyes darkened with pain. ‘No …’ she shook her head.
‘Yes!’ he insisted. ‘I’ve heard about girls like you, but I’ve never met one before. You like sex so much, enjoy it so much, that the identity of your partner doesn’t really matter to you. AH you require from him is that he be male and know how to treat you in bed.’
Megan’s hand swung up and caught him on the side of his face. She hit him with all the strength that was in her, not sparing another glance in his direction as she left the room, her head held high.
‘Come back for your own coffee, love?’ Freda smiled at her. ‘My, you do look pale! Sit down and I’ll bring your coffee over to you.’ She sat down opposite Megan at the kitchen table. ‘Been working you hard, has he?’
Megan felt numb. Jerome Towers had meant to humiliate her, sexually humiliate her, and he had succeeded. Too well! She felt as if she never wanted another man to touch her. She felt dirty and degraded, most of all degraded. Her experiences with the men in this family were enough to put her off males for life. And she wasn’t sure it hadn’t!
‘You do look ill,’ Freda frowned her concern. ‘Maybe you should go home.’
‘No!’ She wouldn’t give Jerome that satisfaction. ‘I’ll be fine.’ She had her father’s dogged personality, and neither of them had been known to run away from a fight. ‘There, I feel better now,’ she smiled brightly.
‘Sure? You still look pale, and—’
‘I’ll be fine, Freda—really. I just needed my coffee.’
‘Did Miss Mitchell take yours?’
‘Mm,’ she admitted ruefully. ‘Well, I’d better get back to work now.’
She hesitated outside the study door, finally bracing her shoulders before taking a firm hold of the doorhandle and going inside. Jerome Towers slowly raised his head, watching her as she picked up her notepad before going over to the desk in front of the window. Megan didn’t say a word but began typing the replies he had dictated to her earlier.
‘Miss Finch,’ he finally rapped out.
She stopped typing. ‘Mr Towers?’ she raised one eyebrow questioningly.
He stood up. ‘The next time you come into this room, knock first!’ He slammed out of the study.
Megan was lucky enough to meet Patsy Jones that evening as the two of them came put of the small local grocery store.
‘Patsy!’ she halted the other girl as she would have walked away. ‘I was hoping I’d see you. Do you have time to talk?’
Patsy looked up at her with apprehensive eyes. ‘What do we have to talk about?’
Megan sighed. ‘I’m sure Roddy has told you.’
Blue eyes flashed. ‘Rod—er—Mr Meyers?’ Patsy amended quickly. ‘What does he have to do with us talking?’
‘He hasn’t told you, has he?’
Patsy frowned. ‘Told me what?’
‘That I know about the two of you. Are you mad, Patsy?’ Megan exclaimed in exasperation. ‘Don’t you realise all that you risk losing for that worthless—’
‘You’re just jealous!’ the other girl cut in angrily. ‘Roddy told me about you, about the way you keep chasing him, even at the hospital. But he doesn’t want you,’ pansy-blue eyes blazed. ‘He wants me!’
‘I don’t want him,’ Megan dismissed disgustedly. ‘I think he’s the biggest creep I’ve ever met. And if you’re fooled by—’
‘Shut up!’ Patsy said forcefully. ‘Just shut up. You’re like all the rest, always trying to tell me what to do. I’ll see Roddy as much as I want to, so just leave me alone!’ She walked hurriedly away.
‘Patsy …’
She turned, her expression fierce. ‘Just leave me alone, will you!.’
Megan shrugged defeat, then walked slowly home. If Patsy didn’t want to be helped then she didn’t see what she could do about it. But it was such a shame. She knew that to Roddy it was all a game, the fact that Patsy was married had probably just made the chase more interesting. Unfortunately Roddy was one of those men who enjoyed the chase more than the capture, and Megan didn’t think it would take him long to tire of the sweet, unsophisticated Patsy.
‘Did you get the bread, love?’ her mother came through from the kitchen as she let herself into the house.
‘Mm.’ Megan handed it over.
‘I’ve asked Paul to stay to supper,’ her mother told her.
‘That will be nice,’ she replied absently
Her mother frowned at her lack of enthusiasm. ‘I thought so. How did your day go?’
Megan managed a casual shrug, although her body ached with the tension of trying to act normally all day, especially when all she had really wanted to do had been to run away and hide. After he had slammed out of the study Megan had only seen Jerome once more, and that had been when he had driven off some time during the afternoon with the beautiful Stella.
She had discovered by helping Mrs Reece around the house in the afternoon that Jerome and his mistress had bedrooms facing each other across the corridor. It didn’t need superhuman intelligence to work out that only one of these bedrooms would be occupied at night.
‘Did you hate it?’ Her mother looked worried.
‘It was no worse than I thought it would be,’ Megan evaded. ‘What time will the boys be in to supper?’ she changed the subject.
‘Any time now. I’d better get back in the kitchen and see to the sprouts.’
Megan followed her, sniffing appreciatively. ‘Smells nice. What is it?’
‘Roast chicken.’ Her mother smiled. ‘Your father’s favourite.’
Megan’s face darkened with concern. ‘You still miss him, don’t you?’
‘Well, of course I do,’ her mother nodded. ‘Some marriages become stale, a case of taking each other for granted, but that never happened to us. We were happy together, and we always said we would like that sort of marriage for you.’
‘I’ve yet to meet the right man, Mum,’ Megan said regretfully.
‘I thought Paul …’
Megan slowly shook her head. ‘He’s a very good friend, and I enjoy being with him, but—well, there’s something missing from the relationship.’ Sexual excitement was what was missing, she knew that! After this morning in Jerome’s arms she knew she could never marry Paul, not in all honesty. He had never induced that volcanic excitement in her, never made her feel so—so alive and wanting. She had wanted Jerome this morning, and he had wanted her, no matter how cruelly he had rejected her.
‘Paul’s serious about you,’ her mother told her. ‘Let him down gently, Megan love.’
The opportunity to do that came sooner than she had expected, that evening to be precise. Brian had gone to Joyce’s, her mother had gone to visit one of her friends in the village, and Paul came back to keep Megan company after having been home to change.
‘This is cosy.’ He had his arm about her shoulders, pulling her close.
They were seated on the sofa in the lounge, a cheery fire in the hearth, the television turned down low. It was the sort of situation Megan had been hoping to avoid; her emotions were all confused after this morning. She felt sure Jerome wouldn’t feel the same reluctance to make love to his mistress.
She took a deep breath. ‘Paul—’
‘Mm,’ he nuzzled into her throat. ‘You taste good,’ and he gently nibbled her skin.
‘Paul!’ she wriggled away from him.
He looked hurt. ‘What’s wrong, love? You don’t seem yourself this evening.’
Probably because she didn’t feel herself! She kept wondering what Jerome was doing, who he was with—and if it was the beautiful Stella, if he was making love to her. It was like a knife twisting in her throat to think of the other woman being the recipient of those caressingly knowledgeable hands, making Megan wonder again at the depth of her own feelings for Jerome Towers.
‘Megan?’ Paul was frowning down at her.
‘Sorry,’ she brought herself back from her disturbing thoughts. ‘I’m just feeling tired, I think.’
‘But I thought you said your first day hadn’t been too difficult.’
‘I said it hadn’t been hard work,’ she corrected. ‘I wouldn’t deny it’s been difficult.’
‘You still don’t like Mr Towers?’
‘I—I no longer dislike him.’ She didn’t feel she could tell an out-and-out lie. ‘He—he works hard on the estate,’ she rushed on. ‘No one can deny that. I’m surprised he finds the time to deal with his other business interests.’
Paul nodded. ‘He has a capacity for work that I’ve never seen equalled. He enjoys it, thrives on the challenge. He’s the same with women, he always likes to win.’
Megan blushed, knowing first hand of Jerome Towers’ need to conquer. ‘You sound envious,’ she teased to hide her pain.
‘Not me,’ he grinned. ‘Although it would be nice to have that lethal charm of his.’ He leant back, sighing his satisfaction. ‘But I’d rather settle for spending the rest of my life with you.’
Her heart sank. ‘Paul—-’
‘When shall we get married?’ He didn’t seem to have noticed her suddenly pale face. ‘We have no reason to wait now that you aren’t going to finish your training.’
‘Paul!’ This time it was a groan.
‘Easter would be nice,’ he mused. ‘Don’t you think so?’ He looked down at her.
Megan bit her lip painfully. ‘I don’t remember you ever asking me to marry you,’ she pointed out gently.
‘No? Well—I—’ he flushed a fiery red. ‘You will, won’t you?’
‘I—’ She was interrupted by a loud hammering on the front door. ‘Who on earth can that be?’ she frowned. ‘It’s after ten.’
Paul stood up. ‘Better let me go, you shouldn’t be answering the door to anyone at this time of night.’
Megan followed him out into the passageway, and her eyes widened as she saw Jerome Towers standing on the doorstep, a rather wet Jerome Towers as it was pouring down with rain.
‘Come in,’ she invited hurriedly. The furious anger in his eyes was ominous.
He grimaced, ‘I’d better not. I’m dripping wet and I have mud all over my boots.’
‘For goodness’ sake come in,’ she said impatiently, pulling him inside. He was so wet, water was dripping off him as he had said it was. ‘What on earth possessed you to walk over here in this weather?’ she frowned at him.
‘Your damned cow possessed me,’ he groaned angrily.
Megan looked startled. ‘Bertha?’
‘Do you have any other?’ he queried sarcastically.
‘Did she come over to The Towers again?’ she asked with dread.
‘How clever of you to guess! Yes, she came to The Towers, and she knocked one of my fences over in the process,’ he scowled darkly.
‘Is she outside?’
Jerome gave her a pitying look. ‘Well, I hardly walked here without her.’
‘I’ll go and put her back in the shed,’ Paul spoke for the first time, his hand resting on Megan’s shoulder. ‘All right, love?’ he asked softly.
She looked up at him gratefully, glad he wasn’t going to witness the scene Jerome Towers was obviously spoiling for. ‘Thanks, Paul. You know where she goes?’ His nod confirmed it, and she watched as he pulled on his coat and went out into the rain. ‘Come into the lounge, Mr Towers,’ she invited politely. ‘It’s warmer there.’
‘My boots—’
‘Take them off if you’re that worried about them,’ she said impatiently, going through to the lounge without him.
Seconds later he followed her, without the boots and soaking wet topcoat. He wore a black rollnecked sweater and black corduroys, the latter moulded to the long length of his thighs. His presence here when she had been thinking about him so deeply was very unnerving.
He went over to the fire, warming his hands in front of the blaze, the dark swathe of his hair falling forward over his forehead. Suddenly he turned to look at her. ‘It can’t continue, you know.’
‘I’m sorry. You see, Bertha is probably looking for the rest of her herd. We sold them to you. I—I think she misses them.’
Jerome eyed her mockingly. ‘She misses them?’
Megan flushed. ‘Well, it’s possible. She has feelings, you know.’
‘I’m sure you know her well enough to realise what’s wrong with her,’ he taunted.
‘There’s no need to be sarcastic!’ she flashed.
‘I didn’t know I was. And when I said it can’t continue, I wasn’t referring to Bertha’s wanderings.’
Her chin went up in challenge. ‘What, then?’
‘I think you know what—this game of musical beds, you’ve been playing with my brother and Paul Carter. I sounded Roddy out this evening, and he obviously has no idea how far things have gone between you and your young friend Paul.’
Megan flushed with anger. ‘My friendship with Paul is none of your brother’s concern!’
‘Not even when he’s sleeping with you too?’
‘He isn’t!’ she gasped.
Jerome shook his head, his expression one of disgust. ‘You’re going to get caught out, Megan. I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep them apart so far. Roddy got home about an hour ago—what did you do, tell him you had a headache as a means of getting rid of him so that Carter could
join you here?’
‘I haven’t seen Roddy this evening,’ she denied heatedly. ‘He’s probably been with—’
‘Yes?’ he prompted sharply.
‘He hasn’t been with me,’ she told him firmly. ‘Ask Paul, we’ve been together all evening.’
His mouth twisted. ‘I have no intention of asking Carter anything. I can imagine the construction he would put on my interest. I won’t be another of your men, Megan, possibly the lunchtime session you first offered me.’
‘You conceited swine! I offered to have lunch with you, not jump into bed with you.’
‘One seems to lead to the other where you’re concerned,’ he said insultingly. ‘I doubt Roddy will be hurt by your duplicity, but Carter might be. Why don’t you finish with him and let him find himself some nice girl to marry?’
‘He wants to marry me!’ Megan told him defiantly.
Brown eyes narrowed, his look assessing. ‘Has he asked you?’
‘Yes,’ she took pleasure in telling him.
‘And your answer? No, don’t bother to tell me,’ he taunted. ‘You aren’t going to marry him. You would never be able to settle for one man.’
‘I—’ She longed to say that yes, she was going to marry Paul. But she couldn’t use him in that way. She had no intention of marrying him, and he could only be hurt if she were to say she was. ‘I’m not going to marry him,’ she admitted tautly. ‘But not for the reason you said.’ Her eyes flashed deeply green.
‘Time I was going.’ He moved to pull on his coat and boots. ‘Carter will never know what a lucky escape he’s had,’ he added scornfully.
‘God, I hate you!’ Her vehemence was unmistakable.
‘No more than I hate you. But I want you too.’ He made the admission as if it were forced out of him. ‘You knew that this morning, didn’t you? Of course you did,’ he answered his own question. ‘You know exactly how a man’s body functions, know damn well what a turn-on those little animal moans of yours are. Well, I may not be a saint where women are concerned, but I try not to go in for used goods, especially when they’ve been used the amount of times you have. Oh no!’ he stopped her hand as it swung up to hit him. ‘You were lucky to get away with it the first time, don’t push your luck.’
Point of No Return Page 9