Act of Betrayal (22 page)

up the stairs. Against his strength she was like a puppet, a rag

doll, and the position she was in made her head swim. 'Brute,'

she sobbed breathlessly. He didn't reply. She wondered if he'd

gone mad. At the top of the stairs, he put her down. Unbalanced

by the fact that she only wore one sandal, she staggered, but he

seemed not to notice. Grasping her wrist, he pulled her, limping,

along the landing to a door at the end. He threw it open. And

almost threw her inside. He was breathing hard, a white line

round his mouth, his eyes brilliant with a flame that dazzled

her. He said, 'There it is, Laura. There's the truth. I keep it

above my bed as a constant reminder of how wrong I can be.' It

was the portrait he had painted of her. She looked up dazedly at

the girl in the patchwork skirt which she had been. She

remembered the shyness, the agony of loneliness which she

believed had gone forever in his arms and a deep choking sob

welled up from inside her. He heard the sound she made and turned

towards her impatiently, his face harsh. 'Now who's playing

games?' There was silence as he registered her trembling lips and

tear-misted eyes. His voice sank to a groan. 'Laura… dear God…

Laura He began to kiss her, his mouth brushing gently on her own

as if in recompense for his earlier harshness, and for a while it

was enough for her to stand in the circle of his arms, and allow

these feather light caresses on her mouth, her eyes, her cheeks

and forehead. To feel the pain and the bitterness drain out of

her as if his touch had the power to heal her. As perhaps it did,

she thought from the strange dream which enfolded her. Only now

it was time for the dreaming to stop. She moved slowly, moulding

her body against his, watching the concern in his eyes change to

hunger as she offered him her parted lips.

This time he wasn't gentle, but desire was running through her

like a flame and she responded to his passionate possession of

her mouth with equal fierceness, her hands going up to clasp the

back of his head, and hold him to her. By the time he took his

mouth from hers, she was breathless, her senses going crazy, her

pulses clamouring. He released her and stepped one step

backwards, his eyes watching her with a challenge as old as time.

He shrugged off the expensive jacket and let it fall to the

floor, tugged his tie loose, and dry-mouthed she remembered the

first time she had watched him undress, excitement warring with a

measure of fearfulness. But she wasn't that apprehensive girl any

longer. She was a woman now, with needs and urgencies too long

unsatisfied. She moved to him. He was unbuttoning his shirt, but

he paused, brows lifted, as she pushed his hands away and took

over the task herself. His skin was warm, and she pressed her

mouth against him, letting the familiarity of the taste, the

scent of him wash into her eager consciousness. She could feel

the race of his heartbeat under her lips, the stir of his aroused

body against hers. He took her face in his hands and kissed her

hotly and deeply. Her head fell back, letting his lips trace the

slender line of her throat down to the unfastened collar of her

dress. His hands moved releasing the remaining buttons, opening

her dress to the waist. Her body shivered with delight., as his

fingers delicately explored her breasts, freeing them from the

fragile lace cups of her bra for the pleasure of kisses.. He

undid the remaining buttons, then pushed the dress gently from

her shoulders. It fell to the floor to be joined a second later

by her lacy half slip. He lifted her and put her on the bed,

following her down on to the yielding surface and kissing her

with slow, sensuous pleasure while his caressing hands completed

her undressing. When she felt him move away, she knew a moment of

panic, remembering how he had rejected her that night at Alan's

cottage* but almost before the thought had formulated he was

beside her again, naked himself now. Her hands touched his long,

muscular back, embracing him fiercely, adoring the warmth and

strength of him in her arms. Nothing else mattered but the heated

tide of sensation rising within her, the overwhelming need for

fulfilment which he aroused in her. His mouth tantalised her,

moving with unhurried eroticism down her body, following the path

of pleasure his exploring fingers had already traced. She

caressed him too, touching him with lingering intimacy in the

ways that he had taught her. She was on fire for him, and when at

last his body covered hers, she welcomed the first fierce thrust

of his possession with wild savage sweetness, moving with him,

responding to him so that the taking was mutual and overwhelming.

Her cry of ecstatic release was echoed by his own, and still

twined together, they fell asleep. Sometime later, she was aware

she was being lifted, that there was now a pillow under her head,

and the softness of a quilt covering her. She murmured something

happily and slept again. When she woke properly, the room was

dark. For a moment Laura lay there savouring the feeling of

voluptuous well-being pervading her entire body, and wondering

why she felt so wonderful then she remembered, and sat up with a

stifled gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. She was alone now,

although the rumpled pillow beside her told its own story. As she

crouched there tensely in the silent darkness she heard faint

sounds from the downstairs someone moving about, the chink of

crockery. She'd fallen into the very trap, she had sworn to

avoid, and hot shame engulfed her at the realisation. Like a

frightened child she drew her knees up to her chin, wrapping her

arms tightly round them while she tried to think what to do.

There was no excuse for what she had done. None at all. She had

known from the first moment that Jason had come back into her

life that he still had the most devastating effect on her. Self-

respect at least had demanded that she should keep him at a

distance, or at least pretend that all desire was dead, but her

body had betrayed her every time and he was far too experienced

not to have known this, and capitalised on it, she thought

bitterly. She had fallen into his arms like a starving animal

scenting food. She cast a despairing glance at the digital clock

on one of the low tables which flanked the big bed. It was past

midnight, and her car was parked outside for anyone to see. For

Clare Marshall to see and draw her own conclusions. Laura

groaned, throwing back the covers and swinging her legs to the

floor. She clicked on one of the tall cream-shaded lamps and

began to search hurriedly for her clothing, disentangling it from

Jason's with hands that shook. She wasted several minutes hunting

around for her other sandal, remembering at last that she had

lost it downstairs. Holding the remaimng-sandal, she tiptoed down

to the hall and into the drawing room, hastily retrieving her

missing footwear from beside the sofa. She was on her way down

the hall to the front door, when a door opened behind her and

light flooded out. Jason said, 'Laura? Where the hell are you

going?' She turned slowly and reluctantly. For a moment he was

just a dark silhouette framed in the bright kitchen doorway, then

he moved towards her and she saw that he was carrying a tray. She

saw dishes with chicken and salad, a tall green bottle of wine,

glasses, a rose in a silver vase. He put the tray down on a side

table, and stood looking at her. He was wearing a towelling

bathrobe, his bare feet thrust into heelless leather mules. He

said quietly, 'What is this? Where are you going?' 'Away from

here. Home,' she said rather wildly, and his eyes narrowed. 'Come

and have something to eat,' he invited. 'And we'll talk about

it.' 'There's nothing to talk about,' she denied. His brows

snapped together. 'You can't be serious.' 'Never more so.' She

drew a deep steadying breath. I can't undo the last few hours,

Jason, but you must understand that I would if it were possible.

I'll never forgive myself for what has happened.' He was silent

for a moment. 'And by the same token, I presume you don't intend

to forgive me either,' he suggested drily. ' If you like. I don't

want to discuss it.' 'Then I'm afraid you're going to have to

force yourself,' his tone was implacable. ' I have you now,

Laura, and you're not running out on me again. We're going to

settle this whole miserable business once and for all no matter

who gets hurt in the process.' 'No.' Laura shook her head

desperately. ' I can't. I won't and you're not going to make me.'

She flung her head back. 'I'm leaving this place, Jason. I'm

going away …getting a job.' 'You are what?' His voice deepened

menacingly. 'What kind of a job?' She shrugged. 'Cooking

housework the things I know about.' 'And you think I'll allow

this allow my wife to become a drudge for some stranger ...?'

She shook her head. 'There isn't a thing you can do about it. And

I'm not your wife.' 'Not long ago,' he said slowly, 'you were all

the wife any man on earth could ever want. You can't do this to

us, Laura. Stay with me.' 'No.' The word almost choked out of

her. 'Because I can't do this to her.' 'Her?' He frowned again. '

If you mean Celia . . . ' I don't. I mean Clare,' she threw at

him. 'How do you think she feels seeing my car still outside

knowing that we're here together. Or don't you care?' T don't

give a damn,' he said. 'And I don't suppose she does either. Why

not ask her?' 'Well, I care.' Her throat was tight with misery.

'I care like hell. I hate myself for what happened tonight. And I

hate you too. I hope I never have to see you again.' Her voice

broke on a sob and she ran to the front door, tugging at the

securing lock, praying inwardly that he wouldn't try to stop her.

Because she knew if he spoke her name just once more with that

heart-stopping tenderness, or touched her, then her new-found

resolve would crumble away to nothingness, and she would stay

with him forever, be what he wanted, do what he wanted. But only

silence followed her. Somehow she made her way to the car, found

the bag she'd left lying on the seat all those hours before,

found her keys, started the engine. Drove away into the bleakness

agd. loneliness of the night.

WHEN Laura opened her eyes, it took a few moments to remember

where she was and how she'd got there. Bethany and Mike had still

been clearing up when she arrived at the restaurant, tense and

drawn. Miraculously they'd asked no questions, refused to listen

to her stumbling explanations, simply made her have a warm drink

while Bethany made up the spare room bed. 'We'll talk in the

morning,' Bethany had promised, firmly clicking off the light and

closing the door behind her. Now, Laura wasn't so sure that was a

good idea. What could she say after all? How could she rationally

explain her conduct? She got up and dressed, and went rather

reluctantly to find her hosts. In the living room, she discovered

Mike sitting at the table in the window, going over some

accounts. He smiled at her. 'Beth's had to pop out, love.

Coffee?' 'I'd love some.' Laura slid into the seat opposite,

watching as he filled another cup from the steaming pot beside

him. She said, 'Mike, I'm sorry about last night. It was

unforgivable, landing on you like that and...' Mike held up a

hand. 'Let's hold it right there, my pet. We're your friends, and

we're here to help, but not pry. If you needed a sanctuary last

night, then that's as much as we need to know, and that goes for

Bethany as well.' Laura's eyes filled with tears. 'Oh God, I

don't deserve you.'

'There are various schools of thought on that too,' Mike said

solemnly, handing her a clean handkerchief. 'Talking of old