Seductive Stranger

by Charlotte Lamb

  Her father grimaced. 'But where do you start looking? You can't call in the police to hunt for Lynsey. She's legally an adult, she's free to come or go as she pleases and the police won't want to know.'

  'I think Josh is considering getting a private detective,' Lucy told him.

  'Josh ought to let it go. It'll be like looking for a needle in a haystack!'

  said Jim Allardyce bluntly.

  Lucy groaned, moving restlessly towards the door. 'Shall we go downstairs and have some tea while we talk? I'm dying of thirst, aren't you, Prue? All this agitation makes one thirsty, don't you think?'

  Jim Allardyce followed her, but Prue was reluctant to talk any more.

  'You know,' said Lucy, over her shoulder, 'what I still can't believe is how Lynsey could act that way. Sneaking into that hospital every day, secretly visiting a strange young man she knows is engaged to someone else! I didn't know my own daughter, did I? Did anyone?

  I've never seen Josh so angry, he's like a thunderstorm in the house.'

  Prue sat down on the bed abruptly, her knees too weak to hold her up any longer. When Lucy talked about Josh she almost saw him; that dark, angry face, those glittering eyes flashing at her—the mere idea of him made her stomach cave in and her heart crash against her ribs.

  His mother had hit the nail right on the head when she said that he was like a thunderstorm in the house. That was just what Josh was ...

  an elemental creature of darkness and storm!

  'Are you OK?' Her father stood beside her, looking down into her pale face with anxiety.

  "Yes, I'm just . . . tired,' she lied.

  'Tired,' he repeated, frowning, and Lucy turned back into the room, her face guilty.

  'Oh, poor Prue, you do look tired. You've had a shock, you should be resting. Lie down on your bed and I'll come up with a tray in a minute.

  Something light, an omelette; a glass of milk?'

  'No, nothing!' Prue said, and heard the sharpness in her own voice, sighing. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to snap, it's just that I'm not hungry and I'd like to have an hour or two on my own.'

  'Of course,' they said, and tiptoed out as if she was a child. The door closed and Prue lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. She had often lain in this room during those long ago childhood years, listening to the wind blowing over the moors, the cry of birds, the distant barking of a fox somewhere on the hill, or the angry voices of the adults downstairs. She shut her eyes , and it came back vividly; that feeling of helplessness and misery.

  She tried to think of something happier; she deliberately conjured up memories of running through the fields on a warm summer morning watching the larks high up above; suspended in mid- heaven and singing like angels.

  She must have drifted off to sleep soon afterwards, because she dreamt of being at a party, a children's party at Killane House. Prue was wandering through the maze of passages and rooms; frightened by the boom of the wind in the chimneys, wondering where everyone else had vanished. They were playing some childish game; hide and seek, maybe. She heard a sound in a cupboard and opened it; it was dark inside but somebody moved in the darkness, somebody's hand reached out and grabbed her, dragged her into the cupboard, slamming the door behind her before she could escape again.

  'Got you!' somebody whispered, and Prue screamed, high and shrill, but before she could scream again somebody kissed her.

  She had never been kissed like that before; his mouth was warm and moist, it tasted of cider, which some of the older boys at the party had been drinking. Prue was too startled to kiss him back or to fight him off; she just stood there, wide-eyed and breathless.

  'Who . . .?' she whispered, unable to see his face in the dark little space.

  'Who? Twit twoo . . .' he mocked, and then suddenly pushed her out of the cupboard again just as. a little crowd of her friends ran past.

  Prue was carried along with them and the dream dissolved into another dream of being chased across the moors by someone she couldn't see, someone who terrified her.

  'Wake up,' someone said, far away, and she tossed and turned.

  'No, leave me alone.'

  'Wake up,' the deep voice said again, nearer now, and then she was back in the dark cupboard, his mouth closing over hers, warm and hard, the contours of it familiar yet strange; and Prue jack-knifed upwards, gasping and panic-stricken.

  'No!'

  Her eyes flew open and she looked into Josh's face with a sense of terror; yet she had known it was Josh before she looked, she had known all the time; she had known in the dark little cupboard in her dream—but why had she dreamt that she was a child?

  'You were having a nightmare,' he said. 'You wouldn't wake up when I called you.'

  He was on the bed, leaning over her; too close, much too close. She stared into his eyes and saw that their darkness had golden centres; little rays of gold around the glittering black pupil. His lashes were thicker than she had realised, too, and as she stared at him he drooped the lashes over his eyes as if hiding something from her.

  'Where's my father?' she asked huskily.

  'He went back to work.' Josh ran a lazy hand over her tousled hair and she shivered.

  'Don't do that!' She swung her legs off the bed and picked up a brush from the dressing-table, began brushing her hair with rough strokes.

  Conscious of Josh watching her, she asked flatly, 'Any news?'

  'Of them? No,' he said, his face grim. 'I've been to see a detective agency in York. They have contacts all over the country, but they don't hold out much hope of finding them with so little to go on. It would help if we got a letter from them, or they applied for a marriage licence somewhere, but the chances of our catching up with them are slim.'

  She brushed automatically, frowning. 'I still think your sister will leave him after a few days'.

  'Wishful thinking,' he drawled, his face sardonic. 'You still haven't told me . . if she did leave him, would you want him back?'

  She didn't answer him. He had been to York while she slept? It was twilight; the room was full of shadows. She must have slept for hours, but she didn't feel refreshed, her body was languid and her mind in turmoil. The shock of David's letter had bowled her over—or was it only that? She had been increasingly on edge for days, and she knew it. She knew who had caused her uneasiness, too, and she looked in the mirror at him, her green eyes resentful.

  'What are you doing in my room, anyway?' she asked Josh angrily, and he lay back on her rumpled bed, his long body lazily at ease, his hands behind his head and his face mocking as he watched her.

  'Waking you up. Sleeping Beauty. The traditional way; with a kiss.

  You've been asleep for hours; I promised your father I'd look in to see that you were OK, but when I came up here I heard you talking in your sleep and it sounded as if you were having a bad nightmare. Do you remember what it was all about?'

  'No,' she said shortly, eyeing herself in the dressing-table mirror and furious at the way she looked. Her shirt and jeans were creased. She was a mess.

  'Was I in it?' he asked, grinning.

  'Yes,' she said, to wipe the self-satisfaction out of his face.

  But he just laughed, 'I walked into that one, didn't I?'

  'Look,' Prue said, 'I want to change my clothes. Please go.'

  He considered her with that lazy grin. 'Wear that green sweater you wore the other day. It makes your figure very sexy.'

  Her eyes flashed; she went pink with temper. She marched across the room, opened the door wide. 'Goodbye, Mr Killane. I'll be OK, thank you, there's no need to stay.'

  He casually got up, sauntered towards her, but didn't go, just stood there looking down at her, his brows arched.

  'You're well rid of him, you know,' he said suddenly, and Prue's flush became hotter.

  'I'm not discussing David with you!'

  'You've known him for years, haven't you?'

  'Goodbye, Mr Killane!'

  'You got engaged over a year ago, you told me
so yourself—but neither of you felt any urgency about getting married. Doesn't that tell you something?'

  'Will you shut up?' she blazed, her green eyes glittering like ice emerald. He had been needling her long enough; she was sick of it.

  He had started getting at her almost from the very first. She should have kept out of his way; she couldn't help feeling that he was behind everything that had happened, he had caused it.

  it's all your fault, anyway!' she accused.

  'I suppose I might have known it would turn out to be,' he said drily.

  'But tell me how, just for the sake of curiosity?'

  She looked helplessly at him, trying to the charge, and remembered something she had forgotten until that moment.

  'That day your sister walked in and saw us!' she slowly said, eyes widening. 'Yes, I see it now ... she jumped to all sorts of conclusions .

  . .'

  'Some of them very accurate,' he intervened, grinning, and she scowled at him.

  'All of them wrong! You were making a pass at me! I wasn't encouraging you!'

  'No?' he drawled, and her teeth met.

  She took a long breath, then said sharply, 'I'm ready to bet she went straight off to tell David something was going on between you and me, and that's why David thought I wouldn't care whether he went or not.'

  'For once Lynsey wasn't far wrong, though, was she?' Josh said.

  'Lynsey jumped at her chance,' Prue thought aloud, ignoring what he'd said. 'Maybe the two of you set it up beforehand? Planned for her to walk in just then so that she could go to David and tell him . . .'

  'Don't be ridiculous!' Josh had stopped looking amused, he was angry, then he smoothed out his frown and gave her a wry look. 'Stop fooling yourself, Prue. I watched you with him in the hospital that day Lynsey went back to give him flowers—the two of you acted like friends, not lovers!'

  'You don't know either of us . . .' she burst out in a hoarse voice.

  'I know you,' Josh said softly, standing very close to her, his eyes pare provocation, 'I know you intimately, Prue, although not as intimately as I'd like.'

  She drew a sharp breath. 'And you never will!' she hissed, and he smiled in that mocking, lazy way, nodding.

  'Oh, yes!'

  'Don't kid yourself! You won't, not ever . . .' But she was shaking from head to foot, because his body exerted a magnetism which drew her like a needle seeking the north, quivering involuntarily and turning in a helpless obedience, and his dark eyes told her that he knew what happened whenever she was near him.

  'Losing him isn't going to wreck your life, is it?' Josh murmured, his gaze intent on her face. 'You aren't broken-hearted, Prue, don't pretend you are.'

  'Get out!' she muttered. 'I hate you. Stop talking about it, leave me alone. I can't stand you near me.'

  She got home to him with that; she felt his body tense, saw his eyes narrow and flash, isn't that too bad?' he said harshly. 'Well, you're going to have to stand it, right now . . .' He reached for her and she went into panic again and hit out at him with closed fists, yelling.

  'Don't touch me... I'm not staying here, I'm going tomorrow . . . back to Australia . . .'

  Josh froze, staring at her. For a long moment they looked at each other from across an abyss, then Josh snarled at her, 'Go, then, damn you to hell—go to Australia and never come back!' He turned on his heel and went, crashing down the stairs and out of the front door, leaving her numb.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SHE hadn't meant to go, she didn't want to return to Australia, and the last thing on her mind was to continue with her holiday trip to Europe, but her quarrel with Josh had changed everything. His last words kept echoing inside her head and she listened to them in that frozen stillness, icy with shock.

  Go away, go back to Australia, damn you! he'd told her as if he hated her—and Prue sat on her bed, with a white face and eyes dark with pain, facing something she had been trying to avoid admitting ever since she first set eyes on Josh Killane.

  She didn't hate him at all; she had been lying to herself like crazy and it had to stop now. The admission was painful; her mouth went dry, her body trembled, her nerve-ends quivered as if at the touch of fire on her skin, but she made herself face it.

  She was in love with Josh, and it was nothing like the warm, happy, casual feeling she had had with David. David had never made her feel like this; she hadn't even known it was possible to want someone with this bitter intensity, but from the moment she saw Josh that was how she had felt and that was why she had hated him, quarrelled with him, resented him. .Her feelings had scared her! She hadn't known how to cope with that agonising ache of aroused sensuality, except by converting desire into rage, because it hid her real emotions from Josh as well as herself, but now she would no longer be able to go on pretending. The secret was out of her unconscious and now it would be ten times harder to hide it from Josh.

  She was bound to give herself away sooner or later, and once Josh knew how she felt, he would put pressure on her; he would talk her into bed and Prue would hate herself if she let him. She might love Josh, but he wasn't the type to take a woman seriously. He had flirted with her, even though he knew she was engaged to marry another man—Josh didn't believe in love, he was opportunist, a sexual pirate, a disastrous man to love.

  She got off the bed and slowly began to pack again. She couldn't stay here now. She had to get away. She would go up to London first, to give herself time to decide what she really wanted to do. Maybe she would get a job in London? Or perhaps she would be safer back in Australia?

  She couldn't think clearly; she didn't know where to go yet and her mind was in such a muddle that she gave up trying to decide—only one thing seemed crystal-clear to her. She had to get away; now, at once.

  She flung clothes into her cases and locked them, then she had a shower and put on a freshly ironed shirt and a clean pair of jeans. She couldn't drive all the way down England in crumpled clothes. She did something about her make-up, looked at herself wryly in the dressing-table mirror, recognising that she might now be neat in appearance but she still looked tense and edgy. There was nothing she could do about that, so she went downstairs with her cases.

  The farmhouse seemed oddly empty; she wished her father was there so that she could say goodbye to him, but if he had been around she knew he would have tried to talk her out of going, so it was probably just as well.

  She sat down to write to him, but it was very hard to explain why she was going without seeing him first. She sat staring at the paper for ages, chewing her lower lip and sighing, then she hurriedly scribbled a brief note, saying she was sorry, she had to go, but promising to write again soon and let him know her address, then she put her suitcases into the hire car and set off in the vague direction of London. It wouldn't be hard to get a hotel room somewhere in the city. Maybe tomorrow she would have made up her mind what she wanted to do.

  A bitter little smile curled her mouth and she shuddered. She knew what she wanted to do now! But she couldn't give in to the way she felt; she'd despise herself for the rest of her life if she did. This terrible ache of desire would ease once she was far away from Josh; she clung on to that thought, driving very fast, barely noticing the other traffic on the road. „

  She certainly didn't notice the big, black car which flashed past her several miles from the farm—or rather, she didn't notice it until it did a sudden U-turn in the middle of the road, scaring the life out of Prue when she found herself heading straight for the other vehicle at about seventy miles an hour.

  She slammed on the brakes, her tyres screamed, her car zigzagged all over the road, completely out of control, ending up off the road on a grassy verge.

  Prue was thrown forward over the wheel and lay there, winded for a moment, too shattered to be aware of anything.

  The driver of the black car got out and ran to open her door, she dimly felt his hands unbuckle her seat- belt, and stirred, lifting her head.

  'Josh!' She hadn't
recognised the other car or known who was driving it. Shock made her shake violently.

  He didn't answer; he was too busy dragging her out of her car as if she was a limp doll. His hands brushed across her shirt and to her horror she felt her nipples hardening; her breasts swelling under her thin shirt. She was appalled by her own fierce reactions, and angrily turned on him. 'What the hell did you think you were doing, making a U-turn on a main road? This is the second time you've had a damn good try at killing me! Last time you blamed David—what's your excuse this time?'

  'I had to stop you.'

  She looked at him incredulously. 'You . . . are you saying you meant to make me crash? You're crazier than I thought! What if my brakes had failed? What if I hadn't been able to stop in time?'

  'I would have reversed out of the way before you hit me,' he said, his hand an iron bracelet around her wrist.

  'I've a good mind to call the police and have you charged with dangerous driving!' she fumed, trying to break free. 'I should have had you charged last time. Next time you may kill me, you reckless madman!'

  Josh thrust her into his car and leaned down to say tersely, 'Last time it was Henley's fault and you know it. That was a stupid accident; this was deliberate, I just got the idea from him.' He slammed the door on her and she reached for the handle in a hurry, but Josh was faster. He got into the driver's seat and yanked her hands down.

  'Keep still or I'll slap you!'

  'You wouldn't dare!' she raged childishly.

  His mouth curled. 'Try me.'

  Prue looked into the glittering dark eyes and decided not to put him to the test.

  He smiled derisively. 'Very wise!'

  Prue's teeth met; she looked at him with hostility.

  'Please let me out of here!' she demanded. 'I'm on my way to London.'

  'I thought you might be on your way somewhere,' Josh said, his voice hard. 'That's why I stopped you. You aren't going.'