It required all her effort to say eventually, 'I think I'll turn in, too.'
His hand tightened on her shoulder, bringing her round to face him. His kiss was so seductively sweet that she had to restrain herself from putting her arms around his neck and asking for more.
Somehow she managed to lift her head from his shoulder. 'This isn't a good idea, Clint,' she said quietly.
'Because of the kids? They're all in their tents and asleep. There's not a soul watching us.'
'Yes, but still, I don't think we should...'
His next kiss was a heady onslaught, silencing her » words and pouring fire through her loins. His arm tightened around her, turning her into his body. His free hand touched her throat, the fingers trailing a sensuous path along the most sensitive part of it. And then his lips traced the same path. He seemed to know all the most sensitive areas—the arch of her throat, the little hollow where her pulse beat a crazy rhythm, her eyelids and the soft skin behind her ears.
Alison was trembling as she began to touch him in turn. There was a quite intense pleasure in the feel of his cool skin beneath her fingers, the hardness of bone and muscle in his chest and shoulders. She could feel his beating heart against her chest, and her own heart seemed to pound in unison with it.
He was still kissing her, kisses that shook her to the depths of her being with their sensuousness. Kisses that were drawing a response from her—for the first time she was kissing him back without reserve. She would never have believed that any man could make her feel so abandoned that nothing mattered except the pleasure they could give each other. But Clint was doing just that.
'God, this is frustrating!' he groaned suddenly. 'I want so much more than this. If only there weren't the kids to consider! We should have been alone up here.'
The words brought back some semblance of sanity. 'I wish you weren't here at all. I wish you hadn't come with me, Clint,' Alison said softly.
'Because you want something that you won't allow yourself to enjoy?'
'Something like that.. .' she admitted shakily.
'You were responding just now.'
'I... I couldn't seem to help it.' Her lips quivered.
'Let's give it another try,' he coaxed softly.
She made herself move away from him, and wished it wasn't such an effort. 'I'll be sorry afterwards if I do.'
'Do you realise that it's not me you're fighting, Alison?' he asked huskily. 'You're fighting yourself every time. And the memory of a man who behaved very badly.'
She stood up abruptly. 'I'm going to my tent.'
'When will you stop fighting yourself? When will you see that it's a losing battle?'
Through lips that still quivered, she managed to say, 'The battle's not lost yet. Goodnight, Clint.'
'Sleep well, Alison,' he returned softly, as she went to her own tiny tent.
She did not sleep at all. Fitfully she tossed and turned in the snug comfort of her down sleeping-bag, and twice she peeped through the opening of the tent and looked across at Clint. He lay on a spare groundsheet beside the dying fire, covered only by his windbreaker and the jacket Alison had insisted on giving him. She had no way of knowing whether he was asleep.
Finally she could stand it no longer. Cursing herself for being a fool, she got up and went to him.
Touching his arm, she whispered, 'Come and share my sleeping-bag with me.'
Beneath her Fingers, she felt a muscle go rigid. 'Will you regret this later?' he asked.
'Probably. But I mightn't be able to live with myself if you froze to death out here in the cold.'
Clint's laugh was soft and amused. 'I never thought it would be conscience that would get me into your bed!'They unzipped Alison's bag and spread it flat on the groundsheet, then they lay down, side by side, underneath it.
Alison lay quite still, achingly aware of the long male body so close to her. Deep inside her, a primeval longing grew stronger all the time. It was a longing that seemed centred in the very core of her being.
'I suppose you expected I'd come for you, Clint?' she asked him quietly.
'I hoped you would,' he admitted.
'We can't let the children wake in the morning and find us together like this.'
'I'll make quite sure that I leave you long before they wake up,' he promised. 'Not a soul will ever know that we spent the night together.'
They spoke softly, so that the campers asleep in their tents would not hear them.
'Just one thing, Clint... Don't think that because I let you... What I mean is... don't start anything.'
'I won't overstep the limits,' he promised. 'I know there are fifteen impressionable youngsters nearby.'
Alison shifted restlessly on the groundsheet. 'I was just making certain.'
'Which is not to say I wouldn't like to do more.'
His thumb went to her throat, stroking along it so tantalisingly that Alison's blood turned to liquid fire in her veins.
'And some day we will,' he added. 'And don't tell me that's unlikely!'
Filling her nostrils was an exciting smell that said Clint. It dizzied her senses, inflaming emotions that were already raw.
'Do you know how desirable you are?' His hand was stroking lower now, sliding beneath the collar of her sweater. 'It's going to be sheer hell, lying beside you all night and unable to do anything about it.'
It would be hell for her too, but she had no intention of letting him know it.
She jerked convulsively when he pushed the shirt from her jeans—for she had not changed her clothes—and caressed the smooth, bare skin of her stomach. Then he folded his arm around her, letting his hand rest on her breast. She began to tremble.
'Clint, you promised!' Her voice was choked.
'I won't do more than this,' he whispered against her ear.
'Even this is too much.'
'No, darling, it's just a beginning. But we'll come up here again some time, just you and I. And maybe then you'll be ready to let me show you how I feel about you.'
Alison did not answer, and she was relieved when he did not comment on her silence. The tumultuous demands of her body had brought her to a point where she did not know how much longer she could go on resisting him.
'I want to sleep,' she whispered tensely.
'Goodnight.'
She wondered if Clint would move away from her, but his arm stayed where it was, holding her. After a while his breathing grew slow and regular, and she was sure he must be asleep.
Alison turned on to her side. She was shaken when the long body turned with hers, Clint's arm tightening its hold against her breast, his chest hard against her back, his legs curling beneath hers.
Every nerve was throbbing inside her now, she was so totally conscious of him—the whipcord male strength encircling her body, the sound of his breathing in her ear, the warmth of every breath he took on the back of her neck. They could have been one body folded together beneath her sleeping-bag.
Amazingly, she did fall asleep at last. When she woke up it was very early morning, and she was alone beneath the sleeping-bag. Clint had been true to his word. He had got up and left her long before dawn, so that none of the campers would ever know that they had shared the same tent.
Minutes later he appeared in the tent. 'Coffee?' He was squatting beside her, holding out a steaming mug.
Sitting up, she took it from him gratefully. 'You have a beard starting,' she laughed.
He bent towards her and rubbed his cheek against hers, the unshaven stubble excitingly rough against her smooth skin.
'A preview of what it would be like to wake up beside me after a night of love,' he grinned.
'Since that's not going to happen, the preview wasn't necessary.'
But the fact was that the treacherous thought had indeed crossed her mind.
When they'd finished their coffee and rolled up Alison's sleeping-bag, it was time to start waking the campers. Clint had made a new fire, and the youngsters crowded round it, warming th
eir hands and drinking hot cocoa while Alison scrambled up a huge batch of eggs.
They spent the morning on the mountain, but by midday it was time to start the ride back to camp.
'Can't we spend one more night on the mountain?' begged the youngsters.
But Alison resisted all their pleas. Even when Clint's laughing eyes caught hers, she remained firm in her refusal. One night in the company of this man whom she would never see again after camp ended had been devastating. Another night could well destroy her altogether!
CHAPTER EIGHT
'LET'S go up to the hotel for a while.' It was Brian who made the suggestion.
The rest of the counsellors were enthusiastic. 'Clint won't mind if we take the jeep,' said Gary.
The evening camp-fire had burned itself out by then. Only the night-watchman was needed in the grounds at this hour, for the younger children were in bed, and the older campers, who didn't need active supervision, were in their cabins.
'Coming, Alison?' asked Mary.
'Yes, I'd like to.' She had not seen Clint around— which did not stop her thinking about him—so the diversion was welcome.
Alison was laughing at something Mary said when they walked into the hotel—laughter that stopped in her throat as she looked across the lounge. The big room was crowded, but Alison's eyes took in only two people: Clint and Virginia sitting side by side in a corner, heads inclined in what looked like intense conversation.
Something died inside her at the sight. She felt the blood drain from her cheeks and her legs went weak. Clint chose that very moment to look up—almost as if he'd felt she was watching him. For what seemed like an age, his eyes held hers across the crowded room, and then he was on his feet, and waving them all over.
If it had been up to Alison, she would have ignored the invitation, but the others were already moving across the room towards Clint and Virginia, and she had little option but to follow them.
'Come and join us. Pull up one more chair, Brian, then we should have enough,' Clint was saying.
'I really think we should sit somewhere else,' Alison protested through dry lips.
'Nonsense! It's nice for us all to spend a little time together away from the camp. I was going to suggest we do that one evening, anyway.'
'But not tonight... We... we're intruding.'
'You're not intruding,' Clint said easily. 'Virginia and I came here to talk over some camp affairs, and we'd just finished. Hadn't we, Virginia?' He looked at the camp director for confirmation.
Stunningly beautiful in a flame-red dress that looked as if it had been moulded to her exotic Figure, Virginia waited just a moment before saying, 'Yes, of course.'
'I still think we should sit elsewhere,' Alison said unhappily, but by this time Brian had brought the extra chair, and since everyone else was sitting it would have looked odd if she hadn't sat down, too.
'This one's on me,' Clint told them. 'How about a dessert and a liqueur for everyone? What will you all have?'
A few minutes were spent in consulting the menu. The waiter arrived, and the counsellors gave their orders. Alison's appetite had vanished—she asked only for coffee.
'That can't be all you're having, Alison?'
She looked up to find Clint watching her, his eyes thoughtful.
Politely she said, 'Yes, that's all, thank you.'
'Are you sure?' 'Quite sure.'
'Virginia?' Clint asked then.
The camp director smiled at him. 'Oh, the usual for me, Clint.'
He smiled back at her. 'Creme de menthe and cheesecake?'
'Of course.'
The exchange was evocative, the few words and the smiles hinting at an intimacy that could only have developed through a great deal of time spent together. Evenings shared in the past—perhaps even in the present.
Though Alison had always been aware that Clint and Virginia were friends, she was totally unprepared for the attack of jealousy that struck her with all the force of a physical blow. A choking wave of nausea rose in her throat, so that she knew she had to get to the ladies' room. Muttering a plea to be excused; she got quickly to her feet.
Clint caught up with her in a deserted foyer. 'Alison, what's wrong?' he demanded.
She looked at him through pain-filled eyes. 'Nothing— I'm fine.'
'You don't look it.'
'I...' Wildly, she cast around for an excuse. 'It's been a long. day. I'm just a little tired.'
'You went white all of a sudden.'
'I'm fine, really I am,' she insisted.
'You don't look it,' he said again.
His hands went to her shoulders, holding them. She grew quite rigid for a second, then she stepped backwards quickly, away from him.
His grip tightened. 'Something is wrong. We've come a long way since just a touch from me got you all uptight.'
'Nothing's wrong,' Alison assured him.
'Does this have anything to do with the fact that I'm here with Virginia?' His eyes narrowed. 'We're not out on a date together, Alison. We really did come here to talk about camp matters.'
'Maybe so. It really doesn't concern me.'
'Then why are you so upset?'
'I'm not upset.' She tried to say it brightly. She had a sense that she should leave it at that, but some inner demon drove her on. 'Of course, it's obvious there have been dates, though. I mean, you know Virginia's favourite foods. I get the feeling you know each other pretty well.'
His expression was hard to read. 'We've known each other a long time, Alison.'
'And that's the real reason you come to her defence every time, isn't it? I always thought there had to be more to it than just the fact that she's the camp director.'
'If you're asking whether I like Virginia,' Clint said slowly, 'the answer is yes, I do. I like and respect her. But that's not the only reason I defend her. She does have a position of authority at Bushveld, Alison—and I can't let that be undermined. I thought you understood that by now.'
She understood only that Clint and Virginia were good friends. Very good friends indeed.
'Alison, you wouldn't be jealous of Virginia, would you?' There was a new note in Clint's tone.
'Jealous?' Alison gave a harsh laugh. 'You can only be jealous if you're in love with someone, and you know how I feel about that?'
A muscle tightened in Clint's jaw. 'If it's not Virginia, are you going to tell me why you're upset?'
'I'm not upset,' she lied. 'I told you—I'm tired. I was silly to come tonight in the circumstances. Look, this conversation is really ridiculous. I want to go to the ladies' room. As for you... Virginia, and the others... they must be wondering where you are.'
'I'm going back to them now.'
In the seclusion of the ladies' room, Alison turned on the tap and splashed cold water over her face. Straightening, she took a few deep gulps of breath. At length she leaned back against a wall and covered her eyes with her hands.
The unthinkable had happened. She had fallen in love with Clint. And it had taken her jealousy of Virginia to make her admit it to herself.
What she had told herself was just physical attraction had been love all the time. She wondered now how she could have been quite so blind—or so stupid as to let herself fall in love with a man whom she would never see again once camp ended.
She was still leaning against the wall when the door opened and Mary came in.
'Alison, are you all right?' she asked anxiously.
Alison dropped her hands from her face. 'Clint asked me the same thing a few minutes ago,' she confessed.
'I couldn't help wondering. You didn't look yourself when you left the table.'
Alison forced a smile. 'It's sweet of you to be concerned, but I'm fine, really I am.'
'Well, all right, then.' If Mary guessed the truth—and Alison thought it quite probable that she did—she obviously decided not to press the point. 'Shall we go and join the others?'
Alison caught Clint's questioning look as she sat down.
She answered it with a smile and a light shrug. Not for the world would she let him know what she had just found out about herself. She forced herself to laugh and talk with the others; she even managed to be friendly to Virginia.
The evening seemed to drag on for ever, but eventually it came to an end. Clint and Virginia left in the Porsche, while Alison piled into the jeep with the other counsellors.
They were almost back at Bushveld when Brian said, 'It's my birthday tomorrow. Let's get together tomorrow night in my cabin when everyone's asleep and have a party.'
'All the staff?' asked Gary.
'Just the counsellors. Tonight was fun—it was decent of Clint to pay for us. But I don't think a cabin party is quite his scene, nor Virginia's. Will you all come?'
Except for Alison, all the counsellors were enthusiastic. 'Thanks for the invitation, but I think you'll have to count me out,' she said.
'Come on, Alison, we'll have fun!'
Her throat was tight with unshed tears and her head was throbbing. Fun was the last thing she wanted. 'Thanks,' she said gently, 'but I don't think so.'
Alison slept very little that night, and when she did, her dreams were all of Clint—dreams that she tried very hard to forget when she woke up the next morning.
She was on her way to the stables to give a lesson when she ran into him.
'I was looking for you,' he said. 'Feeling better this morning?'
His hair was damp, as if he'd just been for a swim, and he was looking so attractive that Alison had to steel herself very hard to remain unaffected. He was smiling down at her, with that smile that made her want to go into his arms every time she saw it.
She made sure that her answering smile gave nothing away. 'I was just very tired last night.'
'As long as you're not tired tonight.'
She tensed at the words. 'What are you talking about?' she asked.
'I'm hoping for a clear sky tonight. If there is, we'll go up the mountain, just you and I.'
Alison shook her head. 'I don't think so...'
'I told you we'd go up again—remember, Alison? We won't go as far as we went with the kids, of course. But at least we'll be alone this time.'
Hunger began to burn inside her, a savage, aching hunger. She drew a shuddering breath. 'That may not be a very good idea,' she said. 'Imagine what people will say!'
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