Seductive Stranger

by Charlotte Lamb

  'You told me to go!' snapped Prue. 'Just a couple of hours ago you told me to go back to Australia.'

  He looked at her in silence, his mouth twisting and his dark eyes intent, then sighed.

  'I didn't mean it—you must know I didn't, Prue. I lost my temper and said the first thing that came into my head. I'm sorry.'

  She was afraid to soften, because any weakness towards him could be catastrophic, so she just scowled.

  'Well, I'm going; anyway,' she muttered, looking down, her lashes cloaking her disturbed eyes. When he looked at her like that it made her stomach clench and her body grow languid with desire, but she mustn't let him get to her. She had to get away from him before he realised just how badly she wanted him.

  'Don't,' he whispered, and moved before she had notice of his intention. His lips skated over her throat and she shivered helplessly.

  'Don't do that!' Her voice sounded shaky even to her own ears, and Josh wouldn't miss the uneven note in it.

  He didn't stop kissing her neck, either. He was breathing rapidly, his hands moving in a soft exploration of her imprisoned body, cupping her breasts in the thin shirt, his fingers stroking, fondling; and although she tried to fight him off, Prue inwardly ached with frustration. Her own need was growing like a forest fire; she wanted to touch him, too, to give in to the hunger she felt. It was a relief when he lifted his head again.

  She spat fury at him, hoping she was convincing. 'Get your hands off me!'

  She saw him flinch, his eyes as black as hell, the bones of his face tightly constricted. 'You aren't still hankering after that fool who dumped you to run off with my sister?' he bit out, glaring back. 'Don't waste your time on him, Prue, he doesn't love you, he never did!'

  'What would you know about love?' she sneered.

  hurt and angry at the same time. When Josh looked at her with such contempt she wanted to burst into tears, but she held her head up and tried to inject an answering dislike into her eyes.

  He laughed shortly. 'More than you do, anyway!'

  'I doubt it!' Prue said bitterly.

  At that moment another car, passing them, slowed down, and the driver put his head out to shout, 'Hello, need any help?'

  Josh sat up, darkly flushed. He leaned over to shake his head. 'No, thanks.'

  'Anybody hurt in the crash?' asked the other man curiously, looking past Josh at Prue.

  'No, it wasn't serious,' Josh said. 'Just a skid.'

  The other man looked back at Prue's car. 'Whoever was driving that was damn lucky then! Could have been killed, veering off the road like that!' He drove on and Josh gave an ironic grimace.

  'He thought I was giving you the kiss of life, I suppose.'

  Prue was scarlet and unamused. 'He was right about me being lucky not to be killed!' She put a hand to the door-handle. 'Will you help me to get my car back on to the road?' she stiffly asked.

  'I'd never manage it; after all the rain we've been having, that verge is much too soft. We'd just churn up the mud and probably make matters worse. Leave it there and I'll ask my garage to send someone out here to pick it up.'

  Prue seethed, but there was nothing she could do but accept the situation. 'My cases are in it,' she said coldly, and Josh went over to get her suitcases and load them into his own car.

  'I'll take you home,' he then said, and there was nothing much she could do about that either, not that it made her any happier to admit it.

  'Will you stop trying to run my life?' she snapped as Josh started the car and began to drive away.

  He stared straight ahead, both hands on the wheel, his mouth tight, his profile as sharp as a razor. 'Somebody has to!' he muttered without looking at her.

  'I've managed it myself for years!' Prue bit back, scowling.

  'You don't seem to have made much of a job of it so far,' Josh told her.

  'You picked the most God-awful man and you jump to the craziest of conclusions about things without really knowing what you're doing!'

  She opened her mouth to yell back at him, then remembered how wrong she had been about his mother, what flimsy evidence she had had for the false conclusions she had drawn about Lucy Killane—and closed her mouth again.

  Josh had been watching her sideways, waiting for her come-back, and his brows lifted at her silence. 'Well, well . . . nothing to say?' he mocked, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

  'I've decided I won't let you drag me into another stupid, pointless argument; you may enjoy them, but I don't! I hate them. I've never quarrelled with anyone the way I quarrel with you, and I don't know why we keep shouting at each other…'

  'Don't you?' he interrupted, smiling crookedly. 'I could tell you, but...'

  'I'm not listening!' Prue broke out, in a panic, her skin filmed with fine sweat.

  'But you won't want to hear!' Josh finished drily. His smile made her face burn, then she realised that he was not taking her home, he was heading in the direction of Killane House, and she sat up rigidly.

  'Where are you taking me?'

  He shot her one of his dry glances. 'Where do you think?'

  'I want to go back to my father's farm.'

  'Later,' Josh said coolly.

  'No, now! Take me home!'

  He turned into the drive of Killane House without taking any notice; his profile radiated obstinacy, and she eyed him sideways with a mixture of fury and desire which was explosive^ making her feel she might blow up at any minute. What did you do with a man like Josh Killane?

  'You're driving me crazy,' she muttered, barely audibly.

  'Snap!' he said, pulling up outside his home, then turned with his arm resting on the wheel to look down at her, his face taut with passion.

  'Prue, will you please stop arguing with me for a couple of hours, just long enough to have dinner with us? My mother feels very badly about what's happened. She likes you a lot. Will you be nice to her this evening, show her you don't blame her?' His eyes Were serious.

  'You don't, do you?'

  She shook her head, her mouth twisting. '1 suppose not, and I like your mother, too. I'm glad she likes me.'

  'Is it a deal, then?'

  She looked into his dark eyes and sighed, nodding.

  It was a quiet evening; there were only four of them for dinner—Lucy and Josh, Prue and her father. After the beautifully cooked meal, they sat talking for several hours around a roaring fire, just one fringed lamp switched on, and black shadows leaping up to the ceiling now and again from the flames shooting out of the sweet-scented resinated pine wood. Prue drove home with her father; exhaustion and good wine combined made her sleep heavily, and she woke up to hear sounds outside, cars pulling up in front of the farmhouse, voices talking cheerfully.

  Josh and a mechanic had brought her car back. She leapt out of bed, showered, dressed and went downstairs to find Josh in the kitchen drinking coffee and talking to her father. When Prue appeared, Josh looked round at her, his eyes wandering from her burnished head to her feet, mockingly assessing the bits in between and making her go pink.

  'Well, up at last?' he teased.

  Prue looked at her watch, it isn't that late! Only just nine-thirty, or has my watch stopped?'

  'No,' said her father, pouring her a cup of coffee. 'Do you want some breakfast? Egg? Bacon?'

  'I'll just have coffee, thanks,' she said, sitting down on the other side of the table from Josh, but smiling shyly at him. 'I see you've brought my car back. That was very good of you, thank you.'

  'It was my fault you skidded off the road,' he shrugged casually. 'I got my garage to wash it before we brought it here. It needed it, believe me! It was covered in mud from Where the wheels had churned up the verge while we were trying to shift it.'

  'That was very thoughtful, thank you,' said Prue, very self-conscious as she felt her father watching them. Did anyone else realise how she felt about Josh? Did it show, when she looked at him? Or in her voice? Once the thought had occurred to her, she immediately began to feel horribly obvious
, and to flush.

  Josh got up. 'I must go, I'll be seeing you both.' He vanished and Prue sat staring at nothing, feeling lonely now that he had gone. That thought appalled her—was she becoming dependent on him so soon?

  That was dangerous; she must put a stop to that!

  'Prue!' her father murmured, and she looked hurriedly at him, picking up his uneasiness and becoming nervous herself.

  'Yes?'

  'I was wondering ... I have a mound of paperwork waiting to be dealt with, and I'd be very grateful for some help, if you wouldn't mind?

  I've got so much else to get through and . . .'

  She laughed, her face affectionate. 'Of course I'd be glad to help, Dad.

  How about now, this morning?'

  'That would be wonderful,' James Allardyce said with a sigh of relief.

  His expression eased her mind of the only .doubt she had had—that he might have made up some phoney job which didn't really need doing, and when she actually saw the old desk piled high with forms, letters, government leaflets and official documents, she was quite sure that her father needed her. He needed a secretary badly, and Prue was a good secretary.

  'Leave all this to me, I'll sort it out,' she said confidently, and after a token protest her father obeyed her gratefully.

  She spent the next few days working her way through the long neglected office work. James Allardyce's business life was in a complex muddle, and Prue wondered how he had managed to carry on for so long with so many unanswered letters, unpaid bills, not to mention money owing to him in his turn. While he was out on his land—working with the animals, keeping his land in order, his walls mended, his trees in good shape—he had ignored everything else, but Prue gradually tidied up the office and got all the necessary work done. Letters were answered, typed out and posted; bills sent out and bills paid. Everything else was neatly filed where Prue could put her hand on it quickly.

  Josh called in most days for some reason or another. He was, after all, her father's landlord, and their working lives intermeshed far more than Prue had ever suspected. He never stayed long, though, and he and Prue were never alone; James Allardyce or Betty Cain or Josh's mother were always there, which made it both easier and harder for Prue. She was relieved not to have the strain of being alone with Josh, but it didn't ease the ache of desire she felt whenever she saw him; Just made it easier to hide, at least from others. She wasn't too optimistic of hiding it from Josh. His quick, shrewd, dark eyes didn't miss anything, and the occasional glance or mocking smile told her how little she fooled him, but Josh was being careful to keep his distance at the moment.

  She told herself she was glad about that; she didn't want him any nearer. Somehow she didn't convince herself of her indifference to him any more than she apparently convinced Josh.

  It was over a week before any news was heard of Lynsey and David, and the intervening time passed more quickly than Prue would ever have believed it could, because she was able to stop herself thinking too much by working hard. She had finished the accumulation of years of paperwork, and had begun to help her father in other ways—cooking his meals, helping him on the farm. Days began very early, and she was usually in bed and fast asleep from sheer physical exhaustion by ten-thirty.

  She was busy preparing a casserole for her father's supper one afternoon when Josh walked in without knocking. Her heart turned over as she looked round.

  'Oh, it's you!' she said huskily. It was the first time she had seen him for two days and she was very conscious of the empty house around them. 'Dad's tramping the fields. If you want him you could catch him at . . .'

  'No, I want you,' Josh said, and Prue swallowed, her eyes lowered.

  'Oh?'

  'We've heard from them.'

  'From who?' she blankly asked, and then looked up, turning pale. 'Oh

  . . . David?'

  'And Lynsey,' said Josh flatly, his brows black above his watchful eyes. 'We had a letter this morning?'Prue looked down again at the steak she was cutting up, trying to hide a dismay she felt at the thought of news from the runaways. She didn't know how she would cope if David and Lynsey had parted, or if David came back here and she had to face him. He had walked out on her, so he probably wouldn't dare ask her to take him back, but if he did she would have to say no and David would think it was jealousy. But did it matter what he thought?

  'Well?' she asked huskily when Josh didn't immediately tell her what the letter had said. 'What did David say? Where is he?'

  'They're married, and in another week they'll be on their way to Australia,' Josh curtly told her, sounding so savage that her hand slipped, and instead of cutting the steak the sharp, serrated knife cut her finger, and she gave a sharp gasp, dropping the knife. Blood welled up on her skin and she put the finger to her mouth, the pain bringing a glaze of unshed tears to her eyes.

  'What have you done?' Josh asked harshly, taking hold of her hand and making her show him the cut finger.

  'It's nothing,' she muttered, shaking at his touch, and he gave her a bleak stare.

  'Is that why you're crying and trembling like a leaf? Over nothing?'

  Prue bit her lip. 'Don't . . .' she whispered, trying to turn away, but he wouldn't let go of her, his hands cruel, gripping her elbows and shaking her violently.

  'Don't what? Tell you the truth? No, you wouldn't want to hear that, would you? It would blow apart the cosy little fantasy you prefer to real life, and that would never do!'

  The tears slipped from under her lids, trickling down her pale face.

  'Why are you shouting at me? It isn't my fault your sister ran off with David and married him!'

  it's your fault you're crying over him,' Josh snarled. He tightened his grip on her arms, jerked her towards him and kissed her ruthlessly, his mouth hot and angry. 'I ought to kiss you until you start seeing straight,' he muttered against her quivering mouth, and kissed her-again so hard that she couldn't breathe.

  Prue was too distraught to fight; she closed her eyes and her lips parted moistly, kissing him back, her body swaying against him. Josh let go of her arms and slid his hands around her waist, one hand moving convulsively up and down her spine, pressing her closer and closer until their bodies were moulded together. She flung her arms round his neck and clutched at his hair, twisting warm strands of it around her fingers.

  He lifted his head, breathing fast, and looked at her through half-closed lids, dark eyes gleaming. 'When are you going to face it?'

  he asked and Prue moaned, looking back at him helplessly.

  'Josh…'

  'You don't love Henley, you never did,' he insisted, and she sighed admission.

  'I thought I did.'

  His eyes flashed. 'But you know better now.'

  'I'm not the type to be able to have light affairs,' Prue whispered, her green eyes glittering with tears.

  'I can't flirt with every man I meet, or go to bed with someone then forget them next day!'

  His brows rose and a sardonic amusement lit his face. 'My God, I'm glad to hear it—neither am I.'

  She stared back. 'But . . . you are, that's just it! From the minute we met, you flirted, kissed me, made passes, and we were total strangers!'

  'Not exactly,' he said. 'I'd known you from the day you were born until you were thirteen—that doesn't make you a stranger.'

  'We hardly ever met then! You were already grown up. I don't think we exchanged two words.'

  'We kissed,' he said, the sardonic glimmer stronger.

  She frowned. 'You said that before, but I don't remember ever kissing you!'

  He laughed. 'We had a Christmas party up at Killane House, for Lynsey, not me—all the children living on the estate, all our tenants'

  children, and friends of Lynsey's from school. We gave them tea and organised the usual games kids love: murder in the dark, charades.'

  Prue was very still, remembering her strange dream. 'I was there, wasn't I?'

  His dark eyes mocked. 'Oh, you were there,
sweetheart. You were wearing a very pretty dress, I remember—very simple white organdie in the Regency style, high-waisted, with a long, straight skirt and a little round neckline, a green velvet sash round your waist. You looked charming, with that red hair of yours hanging down in ringlets. You suddenly didn't look like a little girl, any more. It was obvious you were going to be a beautiful woman before too long.'

  Prue was disturbed; she could remember, her dream of the other night but she couldn't remember the party, which was odd. Flushed and uncertain, she watched Josh, and he looked back at her searchingly, hunting in her face for the memory he wanted.

  'One of the games we all played was hide and seek,' he said, eyes narrowed, and Prue took a sharp breath. 'Yes?' asked Josh, but she shook her head.

  'I didn't say anything.'

  'I thought you were going to—never mind,' he said. 'I hid in a cupboard up in the attic and after a while the door opened and . . .'

  'Oh,' Prue broke out, trembling, and he put a hand to her face, stroking her cheek, his index finger softly following the line of her mouth.

  'Yes, you were there, and I pulled you into the cupboard and kissed you.'

  How had she forgotten it for so long? she wondered. Had it been such a traumatic shock that she had wiped out the memory rather than face up to what it meant?

  Josh grimaced. 'Then a whole lot of other people came past and you ran after them, and I stayed in the cupboard, feeling pretty stupid. I was almost twice your age, you were just a kid, a little girl of thirteen—and I was in my twenties! I didn't know what had come over me, except that you looked so different that night, you were lovely, and I'd been staring at you all through the party, thinking how you were growing up, and how gorgeous you were going to be.' He cupped her chin with his palm, tilting her head back so that she was looking up at him. 'You do remember, don't you? Did I scare the living daylights out of you?'

  'No,' she said slowly, her green eyes thoughtful, 'it was what happened the next day, I think.'

  He looked baffled. 'What happened the next day? I don't remember anything.'

  'My mother burst out with all her jealousy of your mother—she hated the Killanes, and I . . .'