Kitabı oku: «Dark Paradise», sayfa 3

He tossed the empty tumbler on to the sofa behind him without even sparing a glance to see if it had landed safely, and came towards her.

Kate gasped, and turned to run for the door, but he’d caught her before she even took two paces, taking her by the shoulders and swinging her round to face him. His face was a mask of anger, the blue eyes blazing.

He said with soft clarity, ‘Not so fast, paragon. Let’s see how secure that pedestal of yours actually is.’

She realised what he meant to do, and aimed a blow at him with her clenched fist. He avoided it easily, jerking his head to one side, swearing under his breath, and the next moment both her arms were pinioned behind her back, his hand clamped like a vice round her wrists. His other hand fastened in her hair, not gently, forcing her to be still as his mouth came down on hers.

She shuddered weakly, closing her eyes, bracing herself against the first bruising onslaught. Only it did not come. Instead his lips closed on hers with bewildering gentleness, exploring their softness with warm sensuousness.

She stood passively enduring the featherlight kisses pressed to the corners of her mouth, the delicate grazing of his teeth against the soft fullness of her lower lip.

She was desperately and shamingly aware that her breathing was changing, quickening as the long deliberate caress went on, and she tried to pull away. Immediately his grasp tightened in her hair, and with a little choked gasp of pain, she was forced to submit.

The pressure of his mouth against hers was subtly more insistent now, his tongue stroking teasingly along the contours of her lips, silently coaxing her to part them, and allow him a deeper, more passionate intimacy, and she felt her whole body shiver as she fought its traitorous urging to let him have his way.

She couldn’t believe what was happening to her. She was being deliberately punished, and she knew it, yet deep within her, a soft, sweet trembling was beginning to take control, compelling her to move towards him so that their bodies touched as well as their mouths, prompting a first bewildered response to his kisses.

A little aching sigh escaped her, as her lips parted, yielding him the sensual dominance he sought.

But the mere fact of his victory seemed to be enough. Matt lifted his head and put her away from him, his smile slow and contemptuous as he looked down at her.

‘No,’ he said softly, ‘you’re not blessed with any special immunity, darling. Want to argue the point further—in bed, perhaps?’

‘Let go of me!’ Her voice cracked on the words.

He stepped back, raising his hands ostentatiously, his dark face sardonic. ‘You’re free, Miss Marston. Unless you have anything else you want to discuss with me.’

She shook her head, staring blindly down at the carpet. ‘No—I was a fool to come here—I should have known—should have realised it wouldn’t be any use.’ Her voice shook. ‘You really don’t care, do you? You’re so used to destroying people, ruining their lives in those programmes of yours, that it doesn’t matter to you any more. I—I don’t know how you can live with yourself.’

She went towards the door, and this time he made no attempt to prevent her from leaving. But Kate felt his anger following her like a shadow as she fled down the dim corridor towards the lift and some kind of safety.

She looked like death the following morning, but that was hardly any wonder considering how little she’d slept. And you didn’t have to be actually asleep in order to have nightmares, she’d discovered too.

She decided she must have been suffering from temporary insanity. That was the only feasible explanation she could find for the way she’d acted. Just what had she hoped to achieve? she asked herself in a kind of despair. Some sort of appeal to Matt Lincoln’s finer feelings? Some hopes, she thought with bitter irony. He was a tough ruthless man at the top of his profession. He had no need to bother with those kind of refinements, as his behaviour towards herself had clearly shown.

She groaned inwardly, feeling the hot colour surge in her face as she unwillingly recalled those few moments she had spent—not in his arms, certainly, because he’d never held her like a lover—but under his power.

She had been seduced, she was forced to acknowledge, and God only knew where it might all have ended if Matt Lincoln had not decided to call a halt.

It should have been me, she accused herself miserably. I might not have been able to use my hands or move my head, but I could have kicked him, bitten him, given him a swollen lip for the make-up girls to disguise.

Passive resistance had done no good at all. And at the end, she had been very far from passive, she remembered with shame.

And she had achieved nothing, except to reveal herself as the worst kind of naïve meddler, and to tell herself that she had meant well wasn’t the slightest comfort. Didn’t they say the road to hell was paved with good intentions?

The cheerful babble of the coffee percolater did nothing to raise her spirits, and she switched it off irritably, giving the inoffensive machine a subdued glare.

From now on, she resolved, she was going to mind her own business, no matter what happened. And her business was her work, and the illustrations that Barlow and Herries were waiting for.

Her chin set determinedly, she marched across the landing into the studio. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d soothed away some inner pain with the anodyne of work, and from what life had taught her already, it wouldn’t be the last.

Normally, she worked fast, with ideas crowding on her as she sketched and discarded, using sheet after sheet of paper as she tried to capture the spirit behind the typed words of the script. But she couldn’t pretend she possessed anything like her normal concentration, she thought wearily, as she crumpled yet another sheet and hurled it towards the brimming wastebasket.

The tap on the studio door was almost a welcome interruption. It would be Maria, Kate thought, flexing her shoulders as she straightened up from her drawing board. She had heard her go out earlier, and guessed she was on her way to the shops, and in particular the small home bakery just round the corner to collect some bread for them both.

Bread and honey, she decided as she called ‘Come in,’ and some of the previously rejected coffee. Probably Maria would join her.

All the breath seemed to escape from her body in one jolting gasp as Matt Lincoln walked into the room.

She slid off the stool, uncomfortably aware of the increased rate of her heartbeat.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘I met your landlady on the steps. She told me to come straight up.’ He smiled thinly. ‘Were you hoping to have me arrested for trespass?’

‘Well, she had no right,’ Kate said stormily. ‘Will you please get out of here right now!’

‘Well, you’re consistent, I’ll give you that,’ he said grimly. ‘Morning, afternoon or evening, it’s always the hard word.’

‘What else to do you expect?’ Kate glared at him. ‘How did you find out where I live?’

‘I could ask you the same question,’ he drawled. ‘But I won’t. Let’s just say I’m as good a detective as you any day of the week, and call it quits, shall we?’

She stared at him bitterly, resenting the intrusion, although she knew she had brought it on herself by her own actions. He looked incredibly tall, the sloping attic ceiling emphasising his height, and he seemed to fill the available space completely. Her space, Kate thought angrily. Her privacy.

‘Quits, then,’ she said with an effort. ‘Now will you please leave—I have work to do.’

He took in the litter of crumpled paper around her feet and trailing to the wastebasket. ‘Going well?’ he asked pleasantly.

‘A new project,’ Kate said shortly. ‘And early days yet.’ She paused. ‘Please will you go.’

‘Presently,’ he said. ‘When I’ve said what I came here to say.’

‘There’s no need for any further conversation,’ she began.

‘I don’t agree.’ His tone was smooth but definite, and it seemed to convey a warning. Kate felt herself tense. He glanced round the studio. ‘Is there any coffee going? I’ve had no breakfast.’

‘Too busy looking for me, no doubt,’ she said tautly.

‘Too busy, certainly,’ he said laconically.

She hadn’t the slightest desire to give him coffee, but she knew that any kind of protest would only make her appear mean-minded and foolish, so with a little shrug she led the way across the landing to her bed-sitting room, silently thanking her stars as she did so that in spite of everything, she had still found the time that morning to make her bed and leave the room tidy. She walked over to the worktop and flicked the switch with operated the percolater. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Matt Lincoln looking round appraisingly, lowering the zip on his casual jacket, and her heart sank.

‘Perhaps you’d like to help yourself when it’s ready,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I really do have to get on and …’

‘Not yet.’ His tone was cool but utterly implacable, and he was between her and the door. ‘As I said, we have some talking to do.’ He pulled a chair across and sat down, straddling it, his folded arms resting on its back, grinning sardonically at her expression of dismay.

‘Very well,’ she said, pretending a calmness she certainly didn’t feel. She didn’t like the way he was watching her as she moved about putting milk in a jug, taking two pottery mugs out of her china cupboard. The faded yellow sweatshirt wasn’t particularly revealing, but her jeans clung to her hips and thighs like a second skin, a fact which he was frankly and openly appreciating. Kate gritted her teeth.

The coffee was percolating, sending a beguiling aroma through the room. She wanted to relax—after all, this was her home—but she couldn’t, not with him there. His presence was like an irritant. He seemed to charge up the atmosphere, destroying the workmanlike but peaceful ambience she had been at pains to create for herself.

She poured the coffee into the mugs and handed him one, her face stony. He took it with a brief word of thanks, declining milk and sugar. Kate leaned against the worktop, sipping her own drink, feeling its warmth comfort her and give her heart, while she waited for him to speak.

He said softly at last, ‘I was deeply moved by your eloquence last night.’

‘Oh?’ Her expression was suspicious, her tone antagonistic, and he laughed.

‘You don’t believe me? But you underestimate your own powers of persuasion, darling. If you think it would be such a disaster for Alison to go to the Caribbean with me, then I shall not take her. It’s as simple as that.’

Kate put her mug slowly down on the worktop. ‘I don’t think I understand.’

‘I’m a reformed character. Your impassioned plea has made me see the light. My home-wrecking days are behind me.’

Kate’s lips tightened. ‘This is clearly some kind of weird joke, and I don’t find it very amusing.’

‘I’ve never been more serious.’ The blue eyes glittered oddly as they surveyed her. ‘I am not taking Alison to the Caribbean. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?’

‘Why—yes.’ She was taken aback, and growing more and more uneasy.

‘Then you have your wish.’ He paused, then said smoothly, ‘There is, of course, one minor condition.’

‘Oh?’ Kate swallowed. ‘What is it?”

He smiled, his eyes appraising her body again with unconcealed sensuousness. He said gently, ‘On condition that you come with me instead.’

CHAPTER THREE

FOR a long moment, Kate couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Then, at last, she managed, ‘You—really—are joking.’

‘Not in the least.’ He was no longer smiling. The dark face was set and almost cruel. ‘That’s the way it is, darling, I am off to the Caribbean on the fifth of next month, and I haven’t the slightest intention of travelling alone. If you want Alison to stay at home and go on practising the role of the virtuous wife, then you’ll go with me. If you don’t then she will. See how easy it all is?’

‘Easy?’ Her mouth was so dry, she could hardly force the word out. ‘My God!’ Then something snapped inside her, and she picked up her mug of coffee and threw it at him.

He had the reflexes of a cat. As her hand came up he was already moving. The coffee went everywhere, the mug smashed against the opposite wall, and he was unscathed.

Not only unscathed, but grinning in unholy amusement as he looked at the mess she’d made. ‘You’ve got a violent streak, darling. Your parents must have been clairvoyant when they named you after a shrew. What a way to behave when you’ve just been offered the holiday of a lifetime!’

Kate regained her self-control with a superhuman effort, digging her nails painfully into the palms of her hands.

‘I wouldn’t have described your offer in quite those terms. I thought it more of an insult.’ She lifted her chin, speaking coolly.

His brows rose. ‘Obviously you’ve never been insulted. But there’s no need to smash things. All you have to say is “no”, and the offer to Alison will stand. Why complicate matters by breaking the crockery?’

She said huskily, ‘You couldn’t imagine for one moment that I’d agree.’

‘Now there you’re wrong.’ He threw back his head and looked at her, his eyes narrowed. ‘I got the distinct impression last night that you’d do anything in your power to prevent me from ruining your—stepbrother’s marriage. I merely decided to test the depth of your commitment.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m not impressed.’

‘I’d do anything within reason, naturally.’ Kate bit her lip. ‘But this suggestion of yours is—sick. It’s twisted!’

Matt burst out laughing. ‘Now how do you make that out?’ he wanted to know.

‘Because you only said it to embarrass me—to punish me,’ she answered in a low voice.

He shrugged. ‘Partly true, perhaps. But certainly not the whole truth.’ He paused. ‘I fancied you at that wedding, as you know perfectly well. And last night’s—admittedly brief—encounter has whetted my appetite as far as you’re concerned.’

‘But not,’ said Kate, ‘mine for you.’

Matt shrugged again. ‘Then the answer’s “No” and Alison goes with me.’ He looked at her meditatively. ‘She won’t be quite so—lively a companion, but at least she’s never tried to deny her own responses.’

‘Are you implying that I do?’ Kate demanded furiously.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘When I saw you at that wedding, it was a mutual thing, and you know it.’

‘No,’ Kate said.

‘Oh, but it was.’ His voice was gentle, but there was a steely note underlying it which chilled her. ‘I wasn’t the only one looking, darling, and every sidelong glance I had from you was drawing me across the room like a bloody magnet. I wanted to find out all kinds of things about you, and not merely what you looked like without that silky thing you were swathed in—although that was part of it,’ he added, a self-derisive smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

‘And I, of course, was supposed to be flattered by your attentions,’ Kate said stonily. ‘The famous Matthew Lincoln honouring us all with his presence at a suburban wedding. God, what an ego you must have! Believe me, Mr Lincoln, setting you up was a pleasure.’

‘I believe it.’ Matt’s mouth twisted. ‘But now it seems to be my turn, darling, and I intend to make the most of it.’ He put the mug down on the table. ‘Thank you for the coffee,’ he went on with a mocking glance at the stained wall behind him. ‘And the proposition I’ve made you still stands. You have the next twenty-four hours to decide if this marriage you have such faith in is really worth saving or not. The decision is yours.’ He walked across to the wall-mounted memo pad she kept beside her food cupboard, and wrote a number on it. ‘Call me,’ he said, and left.

Kate sagged back against the worktop, hearing his footsteps receding down the stairs with a feeling which mingled relief and other emotions not so easily definable. She could hardly believe what had happened.

Matt Lincoln didn’t—couldn’t expect that she would agree, she thought desperately. He was merely tormenting her. He had to be.

She filled a bowl with water, took a cloth and some liquid cleanser and began to clear up the mess she’d made. The brilliantly coloured handwoven blankets she’d bought on a trip to Greece the previous year and which she used to disguise her bed as a couch during the day were soaked with coffee, and would need to go to the cleaners, and she bit her lip as she stripped them and folded them.

All she had to do was dial the number he had left, and tell Matt Lincoln to go to hell. Except that wouldn’t be the end of it because of Alison’s involvement.

She groaned. That, of course, was the joker in the pack. The fact that she knew about Alison. That it was in her power to stop her sister-in-law from messing up her life completely, because Kate had no doubt that that was what was at stake.

Matt Lincoln wasn’t a lover from the past, desperate to rekindle an old passion no matter what it cost. She could have understood that, if not condoned it. But it wasn’t any romantic elopement he was planning. Alison had said an assignment, but that, she suspected, was merely to provide an element of respectability.

No, he was off to the Caribbean and he wanted a woman to go with him. It was as simple as that, to use his own phrase. He lived a high-powered life, but now he was in the mood for some relaxation. Sun, sand and sex, Kate thought wryly. Wasn’t that what the travel brochures offered, even if it wasn’t quite as overt as that?

And Alison’s marriage made no difference to his plans, because the fact was that Alison herself didn’t matter. She’d been chosen because she was an available female body, and that was all.

But anyone else would do as well. His insulting offer to herself had made that more than clear. She still could hardly believe it. Did he really imagine for one moment that she would agree, that she’d take a step that would transform their relationship from that of antagonistic strangers to the kind of total intimacy which made her mind reel?

It was impossible. No one would do such a thing, and that was why he’d suggested it, of course.

She rinsed her cloth and wrung it out as if it were Matt Lincoln’s neck.

No doubt the foolish weakness of her capitulation the previous night had prompted him. Probably he thought that her dislike of him, and everything he represented as a man, was only a façade, and that one kiss would transform the Sleeping Beauty into the ideal travelling companion, she thought savagely.

God, he was a bastard, and she wished she’d kicked his shins to splinters!

Yes, she’d been shaken out of her usual cool control, but only by surprise. The last thing she had expected had been for him to kiss her. He had caught her off guard, that was all, she assured herself, and that was why she had behaved so stupidly.

And he had all the experience in the world, a small voice reminded her. That long, sensuous kiss had taught her that Matt Lincoln would be the kind of lover against whom a woman would measure all other men for the rest of her life …

She stopped short, frowning. Those were avenues of thought she definitely did not want to explore, she told herself decisively. She wasn’t interested in him as a human being, let alone a lover.

All she wanted was that he should forget about Alison, and it was too late now to wish that she’d never got involved, to regret with all her being that she had ever sought him out.

What satisfaction his arrogant ego must have derived from her intervention, she thought angrily. He was well revenged for the snub she had administered at the wedding. By revealing her concern for Alison, she’d given him a stick to beat her with, and he hadn’t hesitated to use it.

She’d done no good at all, she thought dolefully. In fact, if she was honest, she’d probably made matters worse.

She sighed and poured the bowl of water away down the sink. She hadn’t made a perfect job of clearing up, but then she hadn’t been entirely concentrating on what she was doing.

She looked at the phone number scrawled on the memo board, and her brows drew together angrily. He knew damned well she would never use it. She must have been mad to allow him to amuse himself at her expense, to pretend that he could really be persuaded to think again about his selfish pleasures.

It would serve him right, she thought, if she was to call his bluff.

She picked up the damp cloth she had been using and went to wipe the board clean, then stopped abruptly, her brain working furiously.

Well, why not? Why shouldn’t she do just that? God only knew he’d asked for it, she assured herself almost feverishly.

She poured herself another mug of coffee, and sat down to think. There was nothing to prevent her from going. Her passport was in order, and she’d been vaguely considering taking some sort of break, although nothing as opulent as a Caribbean island.

Not that she’d be spending very long there, she thought grimly. It would probably only be a matter of hours before Matt Lincoln discovered that she was not the pushover he thought, and that he’d been set up all over again. He wouldn’t be pleased, but there wouldn’t be a great deal he could do about it.

Unless he chose to play rough, a warning voice reminded her, but she dismissed it. She might not like him, but she gave him credit for not having the instincts of a rapist. Oh no, he wouldn’t use force, she thought. He would rely on his own physical attraction, and his undoubted powers of persuasion to get her into his bed, and when he failed, he would be only too glad to see the back of her. And she could then decide whether to continue the holiday on her own, or return home.

A small triumphant smile curved her mouth. Oh, but she’d make him sorry! After the big build-up she was planning, the final let-down would be all the greater. And now that she was warned about his tactics, her resistance would be impregnable. After all, she knew all about freezing off unwanted advances, she was an expert on the subject and Matt Lincoln would never find her defenceless again.

She stared at the numbers on the memo board, memorising them, rehearsing the moment when she would ring him and tell him that she was prepared to go with him. Sacrificing herself for Alison, naturally, she thought ironically, but underneath her words there’d be just the tiniest hint that she hadn’t been able to help herself.

But would he believe her? Would he really be arrogant enough to think that one kiss had turned her on so much that she wanted to share more than just a touching of lips with him?

Well, she would just have to see, but she didn’t anticipate any real difficulty. She could make him think she’d been intrigued by his audacious suggestion, and he would think that her conquest was as good as achieved. He wasn’t used to rejection, and if she played her cards right, it was the last thing he would be anticipating.

I’ll be shy, she decided with relish, and just a little tremulous, so that he won’t push too hard at first. And when he finds my door locked I can always tell him that strange hotels make me nervous. With luck, I could keep him dangling for days—and nights.

She finished her coffee. She wouldn’t ring right away, of course. She’d leave it until the last minute so that he’d know the kind of heart-searching she’d had to go through, she thought, stretching luxuriously. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror opposite, saw the smooth length of thigh and leg in the tight jeans, the thrust of her breasts against the sweatshirt that her movement had produced, and remembered the way Matt Lincoln had looked at her.

She straightened abruptly, colour tingeing her face. She knew exactly what that long, calculated assessment had meant—that he was undressing her mentally, imagining her naked, and the thought made her stir restlessly, aware of an odd heat spreading through her body.

He would not be very pleased, she thought, to discover that imagination was all he would be left with, and it occurred to her forcibly that she could be playing with fire.

She stood up, resolutely shrugging the moment of doubt away.

So is he, she promised silently. So is he.

In the end it was simplicity itself. Matt was clearly surprised at her flattering words, but he covered well, she had to admit grudgingly.

She had expected some kind of interrogation about her motives, but none was forthcoming. Instead he had sounded almost brisk as he asked about her passport and told her the time and other details of the flight they would be taking.

‘We’re going to St Antoine,’ he added. ‘It’s not a very sophisticated place, so you won’t need a great deal of gear.’

‘Oh.’ Kate digested that. She’d expected they would be going to Barbados or Antigua—one of the islands geared to the tourist industry.

‘Disappointed?’

‘Certainly not,’ she said brightly. ‘I—I’m sure it will be fascinating.’

‘I’ll do my best to make it so.’ She heard the amusement simmering under his tone, and scowled at the receiver in her hand. ‘If you’ve got a map, look in the region of St Lucia, preferably with a magnifying glass.’ He paused. ‘I’m going to be pretty tied up between now and then, so I think it’s safer if I say we’ll meet at the airport, somewhere round the flight desk. They like you to check in about an hour beforehand.’

Kate was taken aback. She’d expected he would want to see her and had marshalled her excuses accordingly.

She said coolly, ‘Fine. I’ll be there.’ She hesitated. ‘What are you going to tell Alison?’

‘I’ll think of something. It won’t be a problem.’ His voice was almost casual, she thought furiously. Not for him, no. Off with the old love, and on with the new, or so he thought. The fact that he’d raised all kinds of hopes in Alison and was now going to disappoint her was a matter of indifference to him.

Uncaring swine! she raged silently.

Suddenly suspicious, she said, ‘You don’t intend to tell her the truth, I hope?’

‘That you’re going in her place? It would hardly be tactful, but perhaps you’re into total honesty.’

I’m into the exact opposite, she assured him under her breath.

She said, ‘I’d really rather she knew nothing about it. In fact I’d rather no one knew.’ She hesitated. ‘I don’t make a habit of this sort of thing …’

‘Then I’ll have to make sure it’s special.’ Matt’s voice deepened huskily, and she swallowed, aware of a returning unease as she contemplated just what she was letting herself in for. ‘Oh, and Kate,’ he continued after a pause, ‘I meant what I said about travelling light. Don’t bother with unnecessary refinements—like night-dresses, for instance. I’m sure you’ll find the nights on St Antoine quite warm enough.’

She was thankful he couldn’t see her, because she was blushing.

She managed to keep her voice light. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

‘Do that,’ he said. ‘See you at the airport.’ And rang off.

Kate would have liked to have wrenched the telephone off the wall and jumped on it.

She began to break the news gradually to family and friends that she was going away for a while, talking with deliberate vagueness about off-season rates to Spain and Greece, emphasising that her plans were fluid and she had no idea exactly how long she would be away.

Deception was absurdly easy, she discovered miserably. Everyone took it for granted that she was entitled to a holiday after a busy year, and no one probed or asked awkward questions, although Clive had verged on the reproachful, dropping hints that if she’d waited a while he might have been able to go with her.

At least she’d been spared the hassle of dissuading him about that, she thought unhappily.

The worst experience had been facing Alison. She felt so guilty when she encountered her sister-in-law that she was sure it would show in her face. Her guilt increased when she saw how miserable Alison looked.

Matt’s rejection must have hit her hard, she thought, but surely it was better for it to happen now before any real harm was done.

She waited to see if anything was said about Alison’s return to work, but the subject wasn’t mentioned, and at last when they were alone in her mother’s kitchen for a few minutes she raised it rather diffidently herself.

Alison shrugged, ‘I haven’t made any definite plans yet.’ She bent her head, and Kate saw that her pretty face was painfully flushed. ‘But I’ve decided against that trip I mentioned. It—it wouldn’t be fair on Jon.’

It was a gallant attempt at face-saving, Kate thought wryly.

She said, ‘I’m sure you’re doing the right thing, Ally.’

And wished she could think the same about herself.

Because to say she was having second thoughts was putting it mildly. Every time she passed a travel agent, or saw a picture of a sun-kissed beach fringed by palms in a magazine, or even an advertisement for swimwear, she was assailed by all kinds of qualms about what she was doing.

It had occurred to her more than once that she didn’t have to go through with it. Now that Alison knew she wasn’t going, the problem was solved. She could pretend to be ill, she thought, or simply not turn up. He wouldn’t miss the flight to come looking for her, and if there were recriminations on his return, she could say she’d mistaken the time of their departure.

She was amazed at the extent of her own deviousness. And I used to be such a truthful person, she thought ruefully. Another black mark against Matt Lincoln.

But as the days slid away with frightening rapidity, she found she was retrieving the lightweight case she used on trips abroad from the big storage cupboard on the landing, and beginning to assemble, at least in her mind, the things she would take with her.