He stood up too. Unforgivably, he was laughing. `Playboy? Darling ...'
But she could hear Chris coming up the steps again. It sounded as if Susie and Dimitri were with him. With her flushed face and over-bright eyes, Diana knew she couldn't face them. Especially not with Miles standing there looking like a laughing devil.
She turned on her heel and fled.
She managed to compose herself for lunch. But she was
quiet and kept out of Miles's way. Susie was in a mood.
She had been for a walk with Dimitri and it was clear that they had had a fight. Everything he said she contradicted loudly and flatly. And when she asked him to drive her to the village, as Chris had put an embargo on her driving the car herself, Dimitri said swiftly that he was going water-skiing.
So that took care of the boat, Diana thought with an inward sigh of relief. If Dimitri was using it to water-ski, there was no possibility of Miles taking her out in it for the sort of tete-a-tete he obviously had in mind.
Across the wooden table, Miles met her eyes and gave her a slow smile. It was not reassuring.
Chris said, 'I'm sorry, Dimitri. Miles is using the boat this afternoon.'
Miles said lazily, 'Don't worry. It can wait.'
Diana expelled a little breath she didn't even know she had been holding. So her reprieve was confirmed.
But it wasn't.
`Diana wants to practise her swimming,' he continued blandly and untruthfully, 'but I can just as well take her to the little beach to the east. No one will disturb us there.'
There was an odd silence. Looking round, Diana saw that it was not just to her ears that it had sounded like a command. She looked down at her plate, blushing furiously.
Chris said, a shade too heartily, 'Susie, you'd better tell Michalis to drive you.'
Miles nodded, as if satisfied. I'll kill him, thought Diana, acutely embarrassed.
Susie's eyes were blank. Her heavy brows almost met. She said to Miles, `So I certainly shan't disturb you.' There was an edge to it.
Once again, Diana recognised, she had been outmanoeuvred. She balked at making a scene—especially since
she was sure that all the other participants would join in with enthusiasm. So she borrowed a bikini from the general cache, put her own shorts and shirt over it, and allowed Miles to lead her sedately down the rugged path to the east of the castle.
He met her with a large cartwheel hat, which he set on her head.
`Thank you,' she said between her teeth.
He was laughing. 'Better than frying your brains. I've brought your sun stuff too. Chris gave it to me. Was he oiling your back for you this morning?'
Diana disdained to answer that one. He laughed.
He took her hand again. She did not withdraw it. The ground was stony and her ankle would have turned too often without that support.
It was hot and the insects buzzed. The sparse bushes at the margin of the beach smelt like herbs in a kitchen—warm and aromatic. There were poppies among the long, waving grasses.
It's beautiful,' Diana said involuntarily.
Miles looked round, then up at the castle, lowering over them like a Transylvanian fortress.
But exposed. I've got a better idea,' he said. 'We'll go round the headland.'
Diana looked at it doubtfully. It looked pure granite. `There's a path?' she asked.
'We swim,' he said succinctly.
She was alarmed. 'I couldn't. You know I don't really swim. I get in a panic if I can't put my feet on the bottom.'
`You won't with me,' Miles told her softly. 'Come on.'
And before she could say anything more he was
running her into the little waves. The water struck cold
and she spluttered. She was still spluttering when she felt
him flip her on to her back and his hands came under her armpits.
`I'll tow you round,' he said in her ear. 'You can practise your swimming later.'
Diana was helpless. She turned her head in the water, glaring at him
`I'll never forgive you for this.'
`Add it to the list.' Miles was not obviously repentant. `Relax, for heaven's sake, I won't let you go. Trust me.'
`Great,' she said with irony. 'I've got real reasons to trust you, of course.'
`Don't start bitching mid-ocean,' Miles said comfortably. 'You can tell me what you think of me when we land. Much more satisfactory.'
He swam with lazy, powerful strokes that took them out of sight of the castle in minutes and had them landed in a small, almost enclosed bay almost as fast.
Diana gave a sigh of thankfulness as her feet touched the bottom. She stood up and waded out, looking around her. Her anger dissipated in sheer shock. It was beautiful, too, but it looked the loneliest place in the world. The beach was a great swath of white sand, bordered by tall rushes and overlooked by the sheer cliff.
She turned on Miles.
`Why have you brought me here? What are you doing?'
He gave her his old, lop-sided grin. He looked tough and capable and terrifyingly strong.
`Use your imagination,' he said softly.
She stared at him, mesmerised. The cotton of her soaked shirt plastered against her body in the faint breeze that came from the sea. Diana was oblivious. He came towards her. She closed her eyes. The hard brown hands were cool from the sea. The air hummed. He was quite
slow and very gentle about it. But there was no way she was going to escape.
Diana screwed her eyes tight, tight shut so that red caverns danced before her inner vision. It was no use. His salty mouth closed hungrily on her own and her every sense opened to him
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS getting dark when they got back to the castle. The sun was only just visible above the distant hills and the moon was already high. The sea shifted and glimmered behind them, giving off little salty breaths of breeze.
The half-dark somehow made them seem much closer together. Closer and alone.
Diana climbed the cliff path without touching Miles. It was an effort she would not admit. She was shivering. This time there was no sun to dry off her clothes as soon as she emerged from the sea.
Miles said something under his breath. She ignored it. And when he offered her his hand over a difficult stretch she pretended she didn't see it. She was in turmoil.
There were lights in the kitchen and the corridors. But nobody was about. Presumably everyone had gathered on the battlements already. Diana was grateful. She knew she couldn't face anyone yet.
`I'm going to my room,' she told Miles, not looking at him
He looked at her bent head.
`I take it that isn't an invitation,' he said drily. Her head came up at that.
`As always, you are right,' she agreed, pushing a strand of damp, loosened hair back off her neck.
His mouth twisted. 'You look like a schoolgirl.' Diana turned carefully, her eyes just missing his. `Hardly a schoolgirl. As you've just demonstrated.' She
kept her voice level with an effort. But the bitterness showed—bitterness and acute humiliation.
If I don't get away from him this minute, I'm going to start howling, thought Diana. She set her jaw grimly.
`I need a shower. I want to wash my hair before I present myself at dinner.'
Miles was not deceived. 'Going to ground, Di?' he challenged softly.
That did get her looking at him. Her grey-green eyes were glacial with hurt and indignation.
`Why should I do that?' she asked.
He touched her cheek. 'I can think of any number of reasons. None of which I like,' he said ruefully. 'Trying to pretend it didn't happen?'
Diana's eyes flashed. 'Happen? Happen? Like an act of God or something? Nothing happened that you didn't intend right from the start.'
`Are you so sure of that?' Miles asked quietly.
Her eyes hated him. 'You took me to a deserted beach. And jumped on me,' she said with precision. 'As you planned to do. Do y
ou deny that?'
Miles winced. But he said mildly, 'I thought the jumping was mutual.'
Diana drew a sharp breath.
`Wasn't it?' he insisted.
He had more than a grain of right on his side. But Diana was too angry to be honest and too hurt to be fair.
`I don't recall being offered a choice,' she flung at him.
She turned away abruptly, afraid that the threatening tears were going to spill over. Tears of temper, she assured herself feverishly. Tears of temper.
`Di
But at the old name she whipped round. He was the only person who shortened her name, ever. It used to be a sign of affection. Suddenly she couldn't bear it.
`Don't call me that,' she said furiously. 'Don't ever call me that again.'
The handsome face registered no reaction whatsoever. But the piercing eyes narrowed, interested. Oh, lord, she had given herself away. She had shown too much.
She scrabbled for some sort of composure.
`I don't know what you think you're trying to do, Miles. Surely, we're both agreed, there's no future for us.'
The steep lids drooped, then lifted with startling suddenness, catching her nearly off-guard. Diana drew back.
`I don't remember discussing the future. Sometimes the present can be fun,' he drawled.
`Not for me,' she retorted. 'I'm not like that. You ought to remember that, at least.' For the first time since the beach she looked him in the eye. 'No one-night stands, Miles. Not for me.'
`Not with your husband?'
He was amused, Diana realised in outrage. He had torn her carefully constructed world to shreds with those long, clever fingers and he thought it was funny. Her rage suddenly went several notches deeper, and cooled to a cutting edge.
`That's a fiction,' she drawled in her turn. 'We both know it.' She saw his jaw tighten and felt a harsh, angry triumph. She went on, 'And before you remind me that your allowance pays my parents' mortgage you can forget it. From now on we won't take another penny.'
The brown eyes flickered and went absolutely impenetrable. 'I thought you couldn't afford it on your own.'
He sounded faintly interested. 'How are you going to explain it when they lose the roof over their heads?'
Diana swallowed. 'They'll understand,' she said desolately. 'They love me.'
That earned a fierce silence. She could feel his anger beating at her. She held herself very straight, braced in every nerve for his next move.
Miles didn't move. He didn't say anything either. His eyes flicked up an down her without noticeable expression.
She thought, He's trying to make me feel guilty. I won't. I won't. I won't let him play on my feelings the way he used to. She set her teeth.
At last he said softly, 'A gesture, Di? At any cost?' She lifted her chin.
`You don't seem to understand, Miles. After today—' Her voice trembled. She steadied it with an immense effort and went on bravely, 'After today I want you out of my life completely. It's obvious we can't be friends ...'
`And why do you think that is?'
She ignored him. ' ... as today's events have proved. So I don't want to have to see you, or hear about you, or think of you ever again.' She made a violent gesture which contrasted sharply with the level voice. It revealed all too clearly the strength of her feelings but she was beyond caring. 'Finish!'
Miles surveyed her. He pursed his mouth. 'Dramatic,' he commented.
For a moment Diana, who had never raised a hand in anger in her life, seriously considered hitting him. Miles took in her white face and the glittering intensity of the green eyes and seemed to sense that she was on a knife-edge of control. His voice gentled.
`We'll talk about it tomorrow.'
It was somehow the final insult, that gentleness. Diana took a spontaneous decision.
`No, we won't. I'm leaving tomorrow,' she flung at him. 'You've no hold over me and you can't keep me here.'
Miles considered that.
`Isn't running away rather pointless?' he asked.
She was so angry she could have screamed. Instead
she gave him a fierce, mocking smile and said, 'I
wouldn't know. You're the one who runs, Miles.'
She turned her back on him and started to go inside. `What?'
He was in front of her suddenly, as quick as a panther—and as dangerous. All the careful negligence was gone. His eyes drilled into hers. Diana glared back, refusing to quail.
`You went,' she reminded him, her voice low and bitter. `I didn't.'
He stared, his face fierce. 'You told me to.'
She pushed her drying hair back with hands that shook.
`Miles, you'd just said I'd got the wrong man if I wanted a father substitute,' she said, her voice raw. 'I was devastated. And then you thought I'd fall into your arms ...' She shuddered, remembering. 'Yes, that night I was angry too, and I wanted to be left alone. That night, Miles. I didn't expect you to walk out on me forever. It was you who chose to do that. And, having chosen,' her voice was suddenly ragged, 'keep to it. Now get out of my way.'
He stood back without a word.
When she got to her room, she tore off her clothes as
if they were infected. She would, she promised herself,
burn the shorts and shirt. The borrowed bikini was a
different matter. Even in her present rage, Diana recognised that she couldn't burn someone else's clothes.
She looked at herself in the mirror with dislike. The bikini was tiny and sophisticated in cut, brilliant in colour. Suddenly she saw what Miles had seen—her breasts half revealed by the jade stuff, artfully piped with black to emphasise the contours it covered. The tiny briefs laced round her pale hips, the lacings an evident invitation. She turned away, her mouth twisting with distaste. The whole garment was designed to be taken off by someone else—all the fastenings stood out, black and blatant.
Maybe Miles wasn't as much to blame as she thought. She should never have worn it.
She went into the bathroom and began the slow process of running a bath. As the steam began to rise, she untied the black strips from around her neck and scrambled out of the briefs. The bikini fell. Diana assiduously avoided her image in the mirrors with which the room was plentifully provided.
Her body felt different. She did not want to see the evidence. She wondered whether she would ever be comfortable looking at her own naked body again. Even alone in the privacy of her steamy bathroom she felt her colour rise at the thought.
This, she told herself grimly, was ridiculous. This was running away indeed. Deliberately, she turned to face a mirror. There were very faint marks on her thighs. The shadow of a bruise on her throat. Her breasts were tender. It could be the sun, she reminded herself. It had been burning hot and she had had no protection from it. Except Miles's body when She gave a little moan, seeing herself flush.
But it was the mouth that really gave her away, she thought, wincing. It looked swollen and vulnerable. You
might miss the shadows on her skin, but that mouth told its own tale.
She closed her eyes, ashamed to remember. What marks had she left on Miles? What had happened? They never treated each other like that in the old days.
And then it all came back in an unwelcome rush. Diana sat limply on the edge of the bath, wishing she didn't have to remember.
How long had Miles held her mouth in that first desperate kiss? A minute? Longer? Until he knew she was his, anyway. It had left Diana weak, startled as much by her own response as his action. When he lifted his head, she couldn't look at him. Her breathing was swift and shallow. He ran his palms down her arms, barely touching the skin. Her breath caught, and she shivered.
Miles took her hands and carried first one and then the other to his lips. He just brushed a whisper across her knuckles; but the kiss he pressed into the palm was passionate.
Something clenched hard inside Diana. She felt as if she was taking painful, dangerous steps up a critical staircas
e. It left her dizzy and afraid—and with no choice but to go on.
He tucked a straying wisp of the damp fair hair behind her ear. He was very gentle then. He trailed his fingertip over her cheekbone, her nose, her chin. Diana's lips parted. He touched the finger to her lower lip. Diana gasped.
Behind them the ocean was almost silent. The breeze had dropped, leaving the air like warm honey. On the hill behind them birds twittered. There was a buzz of insects and, far out in the bay, the distant chug of a motor on the still air. They were utterly alone.
Miles traced her mouth with his thumb. He looked intent, absorbed. Oh, there had been times when she
thought she would drown in those warm, laughing eyes. Diana swayed towards him. It was another step up that perilous ladder.
Miles held her very lightly. His mouth drifted butterfly kisses over her face. Diana trembled and his hold tightened. But he didn't stop. She felt his tongue briefly against her temple and then, with infinite care, between her lips. She gave a long, long shudder and put her arms round him. Another step.
He picked her up then. Diana had forgotten how easily he could do it. It had always alarmed her. She would cry out, feeling insecure and half annoyed. This time was different. She felt languorous in his arms, utterly safe. But she knew he remembered her old trepidation because he laughed down at her—with something that was not laughter at all in the brown eyes.
Slowly, almost dreamily, she lifted one hand from his shoulder and ran it along the smooth brown jaw. Miles turned his head, so that her drifting fingers touched his mouth and kissed them.
That was when things changed. That was the moment when she leaped the rest of the staircase and didn't know where she'd reached—the moment she stepped on to the thunderbolt and was flung into the heavens.
They were kissing before Miles lowered her to the ground. They were both shaking with impatience. The scraps of clothing were torn away, flung behind them as they locked together in a need too great for tenderness. Diana's throat arched and she drew Miles to her like a vice, crying out. In the end she heard him cry out too.
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