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With a groan, he lifted her in his arms and walked with her towards the bed. Her blonde hair spread out like a golden plume on the pillow, and he looked down at her for a long moment, drinking in her beauty.

Unable to stop herself, she yawned. She found it hard to focus, and was even feeling too muzzy to be aware of any triumph at the way her plan was succeeding. A few more minutes, and nothing Matt could do would arouse her!

'Tired, sweetheart?' he asked tenderly, and took off his dressing-gown. He lowered himself down on to the bed and took her in his arms. As he went to slip the lace of her nightgown from her breasts, she yawned again.

'I shouldn't have had so much champagne,' she said thickly. 'The room's going round.'

'Close your eyes for a moment and you'll feel better,' he said anxiously.

'If I close my eyes I'll fall asleep,' she giggled.

'Then keep your eyes open.' He gave her a shake.

'I like your first suggestion better,' she pouted, and lowered her lids. The sound of music faded and Matt's voice came from a long way off.

'Caroline darling, keep awake!'

'Too tired,' she slurred. 'Go ... to ... sleep ...' She half raised her head, smiled at him lopsidedly, and fell back against the pillow.

Caroline
lifted her lids and stared at the ceiling. Twin pistons were racing each other in her head, and jagged knives stabbed at her eyes. What a hangover she had! But it was worth every single throb.

Gingerly she raised herself. The room was empty and the dressing-room door—half ajar—showed her a rumpled bed. She gave a contented sigh. It was a relief to know that Matt hadn't shared her own bed last night, even though she had been unconscious. She giggled. How furious he must have been to have his carefully laid seduction come to nothing!

Still smiling at the thought, she staggered to the bathroom and swallowed three aspirins, then returned to have another sleep until the pills started to work.

Bright sunshine filtering through the soft curtains brought her to consciousness again and, feeling less like death; she reached for the telephone and dialled Matt's office. The switchboard had evidently been given her name, for she was put through to him straight away.

'Feeling better?' he asked.

'Matt darling, I'm so sorry,' she apologised. 'I so wanted our first night to be a memorable one.'

'It was,' he answered dryly.

'I'll make it up to you tonight,' she lied. 'I'm sorry you had to sleep in your dressing-room.'

'The experience made me feel more like a husband than a lover!' he joked. 'But don't be upset. It was my fault for allowing you to have too much to drink.'

'Nothing will spoil this evening,' she promised, and blew him a kiss down the phone before ringing off.

Forcing herself out of bed, she made her way to the kitchen. Pedro was cleaning silver in the butler's pantry and his wife was chopping onions. The smell filled Caroline with nausea, but she fought it down and smiled at them both.

'I've just spoken to Mr Bishop and he wants you and Consuelo to take the evening off. I'm going to prepare dinner for him.'

^ Pedro looked surprised, then broke into a torrent of Spanish as he relayed her instructions to his wife, who beamed her thanks.

'You want I prepare some things for you?' Consuelo asked haltingly.

'No, no. I want to do it all myself.'

Although she felt shaky driving, Caroline went out to do her own shopping, then busied herself preparing the coq au vin Matt had so enjoyed when he had eaten it at her flat. As she reduced down the red wine and sliced the mushrooms, she hummed to herself, and couldn't help a small smile as she liberally added a mound of chervil to which he was so allergic! Her hangover was forgotten now that she was busily preparing the sacrificial dinner! Luckily Matt did not know what was in store for him.

The young Filippino maid, Rebecca, hung around clearing up after her, and although it was slightly irritating to find utensils disappearing to be washed up before she had finished using them, the girl was so good-natured that she did not have the heart to discourage her.

In the middle of the afternoon a cellophane box arrived from Moyses Stevens containing one tiny red rose. Encircling the closed bud was a replica of the ring Matt had given her at the airport.

'This is the real thing—'like my love,' read the card that came with it, and momentarily Caroline allowed herself to believe the words. Then she faced reality again, realising that however romantic a gesture might appear, it was just that—a gesture, and meaningless.

The ring fitted perfectly, but for all its blue-white perfection, she hated it. Instead of being a seal of their love, it was a hollow mockery, serving only to emphasise the emptiness of their relationship.

At five-thirty, dinner prepared, she lay curled up in the corner of the sofa in the study, a picture of femininity in a blue silk ruffled dress, no sign of guile on her face, as Matt arrived home.

'How romantic to send me one red rose,' she cooed, reaching up to kiss him. 'After my disgraceful behaviour last night, I didn't deserve it.'

'You didn't,' he agreed, 'so think what you might get tomorrow!'

'I am!' She raised her tomato juice to him. 'This is to ensure I don't give a repeat performance!'

'Didn't you find anything else with the rose?' he enquired casually.

'You mean this?' She waved her hand at him. 'I quite forgot about it!'

'Wretch,' he teased. 'I had visions of twenty thousand quid going up the spout.'

Caroline kept her face impassive, although she was shocked at the cost of the ring. It seemed that being a mistress could be as profitable as being a wife—perhaps even more so!

'A gentleman never tells a lady the cost of a gift,' she scolded.

'What gave you the idea I was a gentleman!' he replied. 'Anyway, I hope you like it.'

'Any girl would. It's beautiful.'

'You're not any girl,' Matt replied emphatically. 'There are no strings attached to the ring. If we part at any time ... you understand?'

'Of course,' she said eagerly. 'It's a sort of a first instalment on my pension—for when you tire of me!'

He looked at her, uncertain if she was joking, but she smiled to reassure him, and he smiled back and looked relieved.

'I wasn't sure if you'd accept it, but I wanted to show you how I felt about you, and the regard I have for you.' He stumbled over his words. 'Oh, hell! You know what I'm trying to say. But I find it difficult to express myself with you. You make me feel like a tongue-tied schoolboy. I'm not usually at a loss for words.'

It's because of your guilty conscience, she thought, but did not voice it aloud. What
was
he trying to tell her? Or didn't he know himself how he felt?

'What are you wearing that for?' he asked, pointing to the frilled apron around her waist.

'I'm being very domesticated and cooking the dinner,' she said demurely. 'I've given the staff the evening off and I'm going to serve you all on my own.'

Matt kissed her deeply. 'Can't we put off dinner for a while?'

'And spoil it?' she pouted prettily. 'You don't mean that.'

'No, of course not,' he said hoarsely, and ran his finger round his collar. 'What delightful concoction are you offering—apart from yourself?'

'Coq au vin as a main course. I remembered how much you enjoyed it when you had dinner at my place.'

He followed her into the kitchen, humming happily as he lifted the lid of the brown casserole dish and looked at the bubbling sauce.

'Smells delicious,' he remarked, and watched as she put the finishing touches to the avocado and prawn salad. 'You're a very good cook, young lady, this is just right,' he said admiringly as he dipped his finger into the dressing and tasted it.

'Does that mean you'll give me a good reference when I leave?'

'You aren't leaving. The hors d'oeuvre and entree might be delicious, but until I've sampled your sweet, I'm keeping you here I'

Caroline laughed, and busied herself laying the trolley, thinking how soon he would be getting his just deserts!

They ate their meal at a small table laid in the study. The red candles flickering in the silver holders reflected tiny pinpoints of light in the Waterford crystal wine goblets, and the blue and gold edges of the Rosenthal china.

Caroline refused the white Burgundy. 'I'll stick to water. I can still feel the effects of last night's overdose.' She studied Matt as he helped himself to another portion of coq au vin from the steaming casserole. 'Enjoying it?' she asked.

'I think it's even better than last time.'

'Good.'

She removed the dishes and brought in caramel oranges with their coffee. Matt sat smoking a cigar for a while, giving her some details about his forthcoming business trip. He looked frequently at his watch, and finally suggested she went up ahead of him.

'I'll follow you up in about ten minutes,' he said tactfully, as she kissed him lingeringly on the lips.

When he entered the bedroom Caroline was already in bed, her breasts barely covered by the light silk sheet, and the shape of her body clearly outlined. The only light came from the open bathroom door, and Matt disappeared inside, reappearing a few minutes later clad in his dressing gown, the cord loosely tied. As he approached the bed, he removed it and slipped between the sheets to lie next to her.

He was naked, and his skin was warm and smooth upon her body. With a groan he pulled her close, cradling her in his arms and murmuring intimate words of endearment. He rained kisses on her mouth, then his lips travelled down her throat until they reached the hollow of her breasts. As he caressed them, she felt the swift thudding of his heart as his breathing quickened with the increasing intensity of his desire. His hands were deft as they moved over her body, awakening a response that was impossible to stifle.

'Caroline,' he whispered softly. 'You're mine now. I'll never let you go.
I... I '

With a sudden jerk, as if he had been given an electric shock, he pulled back from her and started to scratch himself frantically.

'What's wrong?' she whispered, strangling a desire to laugh.

'I'm not sure.' He switched on the lamp at the side of the bed.

Caroline took a moment to adjust her eyes to the light, but when she did, she gasped. Matt's entire body was a mass of red weals, and even as she looked at him the rash started to appear on his face. He dashed out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

'Ring the doctor,' he called. 'The number's in the pad by the bed.'

Richard Collins turned out to be a friend of Matt's as well as his doctor, and his plump face showed no surprise at finding Caroline waiting for him. He followed her to the bedroom, where Matt, his face puffy and red, was scratching himself and swearing.

'It's your allergy,' the doctor announced. 'How many times have I told you to check up on the food you eat?'

'I don't need to check the food in my own home. Everyone who works for me knows about it.'

'What allergy?' Caroline asked in a little voice.

'Oh God,' Matt groaned, scratching furiously. 'It's chervil. You can see what it does to me.'

'If only you'd told me!' Caroline wrung her hands. 'I used a whole bunch in the coq au vin.'

Matt swore again, then glared at the doctor. 'Don't just stand there, Richard, give me something!'

'I will.' The doctor was lousy preparing an injection. 'It's an antihistamine,' he explained. 'But I'd also like you to take some sleeping pills.'

'Oh no!' Matt gave a fearful-looking grimace, which was the only smile his swollen face could give. He tried to say something more, but his lips were too puffy, and he looked mutely at Caroline.

The doctor tapped her on the shoulder. 'The injection will make him sleep, but when he wakes up, give him these.' He held out some pills. 'There's enough to see him through the night, but I'll leave a prescription for some more.' He turned back to Matt, who was already half comatose as the injection took effect.

'You look a hideous sight now, old chap, but we'll soon have you back to normal!' With these comforting words he walked downstairs with Caroline.

By the time she returned to the bedroom, Matt was asleep. His face was almost unrecognisable and he looked as if he had mumps. Guilt nagged at her and she reminded herself that he deserved it. In a few days he would be free of his rash, but she would still be tied to him for three months. Either that, or forfeit the money which Tom had already used to repay Uncle Bill. Matt's money. Her anger bubbled anew, and guilt dissolved away.

Fetching some blankets from the linen cupboard, she made a makeshift bed on the sofa. She wanted to be near Matt in case he awoke during the night, and was worried that she would not hear him from the dressing-room.

She slept fitfully and was instantly awake when she heard him stir. Her wristwatch showed seven—so he had at least slept the night through—and she pushed aside her blanket and tiptoed over to look at him.

His skin was still scarlet, and his face too swollen for him to speak distinctly. He managed to indicate by sign language that he couldn't swallow any pills, so Caroline crushed them with a spoon and he washed them down with water and then held out his hand to her. Feeling like Janus, she took it and sat on the side of the bed, where she remained until he fell asleep again.

Only then did she dress and go down to the kitchen. The servants were up and she told them about Matt. He would be unable to eat solid food until the swelling inside his mouth had disappeared, so she asked Consuelo to prepare some soup for him. At nine she rang his office to explain the situation to his secretary, then drove to the nearest chemist to get the pills the doctor had prescribed. When she returned home, Helen was already there.

'Matt looks dreadful,' the girl said accusingly. 'Are you
sure
it's just an allergic reaction?'

'Yes.' Anxious for Matt not to awaken, Caroline half pushed the girl out of the room. 'I understand he had something similar a few years ago.'