Night with a Stranger

by Joanna Mansell

  She joined Lewis in the large, formal dining-room for the evening meal. He didn't seem in a very talkative mood, which suited her fine. Since she still hadn't got back a single scrap of her missing chunk of memory, they really didn't have a lot to discuss.

  Maria bustled in and out with plates, and a rather fierce look on her face. As she set the find course on the table, she said something in a severe undertone to Lewis, who hesitated for a moment, and then finally answered her. A fairly lengthy conversation followed, and Lorel got more and more frustrated at not being able to follow any of it.

  Maria at last stalked out, pausing in the doorway to throw one final disapproving glare at Lewis, who calmly ignored it. As she closed the door very noisily behind her, Lorel looked at Lewis with some curiosity.

  'What was that all about?'

  'I've just turned down Maria's offer to stay at the palazzo overnight,' Lewis replied.

  Lorel rather uneasily digested that piece of information. 'Then she doesn't live in?' she said at last, with a faintly worried wrinkling of her nose.

  'No. She'll be leaving once she's cleared away the dishes.'

  'Why did she want to stay?'

  He raised one dark eyebrow. 'I'd have thought that fairly obvious. She still thinks you need a chaperone.'

  'But you don't agree with her?'

  Lewis's eyebrow inched a fraction higher. 'I think we can cope with the situation on our own, don't you?' he replied smoothly. Then his mouth curled into a cool smile. 'Of course, Maria didn't give in without a struggle,' he went on, in an amused tone. 'I had to promise her that I wouldn't lay a single finger on you. She does seem very worried about your virtue,' he added, and this time his voice had a faintly mocking undertone that she didn't understand.

  'And do you usually keep your promises?' she asked cautiously.

  His blue eyes gleamed. 'Not always.'

  'That doesn't surprise me! Personally, I don't trust you an inch.'

  His expression changed fractionally. 'You trusted me once.'

  'When?' she demanded.

  'On the ferry, when you were going through a bad patch because of your phobia about the sea. And then later, on the train, there was another time when you trusted me, let me ‑' His voice, which had taken on an unexpectedly husky note, abruptly broke off.

  Lorel stared at him in irritation. Why was he waffling on about something that he knew she couldn't remember? She wished he would stop it. She didn't like the intense look that had come over his face. Or the way that his voice had suddenly changed.

  'I've had enough to eat,' she cut in quickly, determined to change the subject. She got to her feet. 'I think I'll go outside for a while and get some fresh air.'

  'It's cold out this evening,' Lewis told her. 'And it's starting to rain.'

  She frowned in annoyance. 'Whenever I've seen pictures of Venice, it's always been basking in the sunshine.'

  'Those pictures were probably taken in the summer,' Lewis commented. 'In spring, the weather's far more changeable. Heavy showers are quite common.' He also got up. 'Come and join me in the drawing-room for a while. I'll open another bottle of wine.'

  'I don't want anything more to drink.'

  'But I do.'

  She studied him warily. That funny note was back in his voice again. He looked quite normal, though,, and his eyes seemed quite cool, which she found reassuring. In her albeit limited experience, men's eyes were a dead giveaway. When they became hot and overbright, it was definitely time to run!

  The drawing-room was at the back of the palazzo, and large doors opened out on to a narrow terrace, with a flight of steps leading down to a small walled garden. In daylight, and with the sun shining, it must have been warm and peaceful. In the evening, with driving rain beating against the windows, it lost a lot of its charm.

  Lewis pulled the heavy curtains, and then set about opening the bottle of wine.

  'Want to change your mind and have some?' he asked, as he poured a glass for himself.

  'Oh—all right,' she agreed. Perhaps getting slightly sloshed would help the evening to pass more quickly and pleasantly.

  Lewis didn't sit down, but instead moved rather restlessly around the room. Lorel, who had slumped into an uncomfortable chair with tapestry cushions and thin, spindly legs, looked at him with a touch of irritation.

  'Are you going to pace around like that all evening?'

  'I should have gone to the first of those business meetings today,' growled Lewis. 'It's very inconvenient, having to postpone everything for a few days.'

  'And I suppose it's all my fault?' she retorted.

  'Of course it is. If you hadn't taken my damned briefcase ‑'

  Lorel gave an exaggerated sigh. 'If you mention that briefcase one more time, I think I'll scream! It's just about your only topic of conversation. Are you always this boring?'

  A dark expression swiftly spread over his features. 'If it's boring to have a certain sense of responsibility, then yes, I probably am! A lot of people's jobs depend on me running my company efficiently and profitably. If I can pull off these new contracts, then it'll mean more expansion—and more jobs. Maybe that all sounds very dull to you, but to someone who's unemployed, it would mean a great deal.'

  'Yes, I can see that,' she grudgingly conceded.

  'So, the sooner you get back the rest of your memory, the better it's going to be for everyone,' Lewis continued. 'You agree about that?'

  'Of course. I just don't see how we're going to go about it. The doctor's prescription of rest and relaxation doesn't seem to be working.'

  'There was something else he said we could try.'

  She looked up at him cautiously. 'What?'

  'Jogging your memory with familiar places and people.'

  Lorel shrugged. 'I suppose it's worth a try. I haven't been in Venice long enough, though, to have gone to very many places.'

  'You went to St Mark's square,' replied Lewis.

  'Did I? Oh, yes,' she recalled. 'I remember you telling me that you'd seen me there, just before I had my fall. Well, I suppose we could go back to the square, and see if it rings any bells. As for people, though ‑' She gave a wry shake of her head. 'About the only person I seem to know in Venice is you, and you certainly haven't jogged any memories.'

  'Perhaps that's because we haven't been doing the right things—going about it in the right way,' Lewis suggested softly.

  She shot a sharp glance at him, wondering exactly what he was getting at. Then her nerves gave a brief twitch. His eyes weren't quite as cool as they had been earlier. Their vivid blue was a little deeper, a little brighter—and she found that distinctly worrying.

  Rather hurriedly, she got to her feet and put down her half-finished glass of wine.

  'Er—I feel a bit tired,' she muttered. 'I think I'll have an early night ‑'

  She went to walk past him, but Lewis laid one hand on her arm, easily detaining her.

  'None of this seems at all familiar?' he suggested. 'Eating a meal together, talking, having a little too much to drink?'

  'Definitely not!' she said firmly. 'I'm sure we haven't done any of this before.'

  'No?'

  That single word seemed to hang in the air between them for an awfully long time. Then Lewis shifted his position slightly, moving a few inches closer.

  'And how about this?' he murmured. 'Do you think we could possibly have done this before?'

  For the very briefest of moments, there was something about that hot blue gaze that seemed frighteningly familiar. Then the feeling vanished, and she braced herself for the kiss that she was quite certain was going to follow. When it came, though, it was little more than the lightest brushing of his lips against her own. Then Lewis reached up and twined one of her gold-brown curls around his finger.

  'Nice hair,' he said appreciatively. 'A pretty colour, and soft to the touch.'

  'Thank you,' she said stiffly. 'Is that all? Can I go now?'

  He seemed to consider her question. 'No,
I don't think so,' he said at last. 'First of all, I think you should try touching me.'

  'What?' she squeaked.

  Lewis's mouth relaxed into a slow smile. 'I'm not suggesting anything too intimate. Remember, I promised Maria that I'd behave like a gentleman! Just try touching my arm, or perhaps my shoulder.'

  Lorel blinked at him. 'Why?'

  'Never mind the questions for now. Just do it,' he ordered.

  And somehow, it was very difficult to refuse him when he used that particular tone of voice. Edgily, Lorel reached up and let her hand rest briefly on his forearm. She could feel the firm muscles beneath the fine material of his suit, and she let go of him again fairly quickly. Something about the feel of his body definitely disturbed her.

  'Nothing?' enquired Lewis. 'No reaction at all?'

  'Of course not,' she said at once, although not altogether truthfully. 'What did you think was going to happen?'

  He shrugged. 'Nothing, really. I suppose it was just a shot in the dark. Still, perhaps I ought to try just one more time ‑'

  And this time he kissed her extremely thoroughly. Since she hadn't been expecting it, he caught her totally off guard. Without even thinking what she was doing, she opened her mouth to him, and then silently gasped as he instantly took advantage of her unexpected submission.

  Realising too late what was happening, she tried to twist away, but he wouldn't let her. Nor would he release her mouth. His tongue relentlessly probed and teased, and to her horror she found his hands were beginning to do the same. What was worse, he was behaving as if he were perfectly familiar with what his restless fingers were exploring. It was as if he felt he had every right to be touching her with this devastating intimacy.

  She tried to protest, but couldn't. He wouldn't let her. One touch from him stifled the words in her throat, and small rivulets of sweat and pleasure twined together and ran down her body. She began to shake, not understanding what was happening. And her head felt funny, as if a door somewhere inside it had just opened a fraction. She wanted to push it hard and see right through it, but something stopped her. Perhaps she was simply frightened of seeing what lay on the other side, she reasoned with herself dazedly.

  Lewis's mouth finally eased its pressure, and his hand came to rest under the swell of her breast. Only one finger moved now, slowly stroking her soft flesh, but even that was enough to make her gulp.

  'You—you shouldn't be doing this,' she got out unsteadily.

  'Why not?'

  His voice was calm, in stark contrast to his eyes, which told her something else entirely.

  Lorel swallowed hard. 'You promised Maria you'd behave like a gentleman.'

  'Promises like that were made to be broken,' he said disconcertingly. His hand shifted with sudden impatience. His palm grazed the aching tip of her breast, and she heard his breath catch at the same time as her own.

  'I've never behaved like this with a woman before,' he told her huskily. 'Never had this urge to simply take what I want. Or would it be taking?' he questioned softly, his blue eyes blazing down into her own. 'Perhaps you'd give it to me quite willingly?'

  She was alarmed to find his suggestion didn't shock her nearly as much as it should have. She briefly closed her eyes, and fervently wished he would remove his hand. How on earth could she think straight when he was setting off those small starbursts of pleasure inside her?

  Almost as if he could read her thoughts, he let go of her. Although she had thought it was what she wanted, she felt oddly disappointed and empty once he had moved away from her. She also had the feeling that he had found it quite an effort to release her, and for some reason that pleased her.

  Lewis kept his back to her for a few moments. When he finally turned back to face her, his eyes were much calmer, and he seemed very much in control of himself again.

  'None of this has turned out quite the way I expected,' he said drily. Lorel had the feeling that the faint note of mockery in his voice was aimed at himself, not her. 'And since kisses won't jog your memory, then tomorrow we'd better try something else.'

  Confused and disturbed, she gazed back at him. 'Why should kisses jog my memory?' she asked shakily, not very sure that she even wanted to know the answer to her question.

  'Until you get your memory back, you won't know, will you?' he replied, his face quite unreadable now. He turned away from her. 'Goodnight, Lorel. And I hope you'll sleep better than I'm going to tonight!'

  With that, he rather abruptly left the drawing-room. Lorel shivered as she sat down in the nearest chair. The more time she spent with Lewis Elliott, the less she understood him. And now this had happened...

  It was disturbing, to say the least. And perhaps the most unnerving part of the whole affair was that it hadn't felt strange, it hadn't felt wrong. In fact, it was almost as if it had happened before.

  At that, Lorel raised her head with some determination. That was nonsense! There was no way she could have got herself involved with a man like Lewis Elliott. Anyway, they had only been together on that train for a matter of hours. Nothing could have happened in that time! And there was an obvious explanation for tonight. They had both had a little too much wine, and got rather stupidly carried away.

  Glad to have sorted everything out so satisfactorily, she got to her feet and took herself off to bed. And, though she didn't sleep too well, she managed to convince herself that it had absolutely nothing to do with the events of the evening.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Lorel got up the next morning not knowing quite what to expect. The events of last night were still uncomfortably clear in her mind, and she had a distinctly nervous feeling in her stomach as she made her way downstairs.

  The rain of yesterday evening had cleared away, and it was another of those bright, golden days which seemed to touch Venice with a particular magic that was all its own. Lorel wasn't in a mood to appreciate it, though. Instead, she prowled around restlessly, waiting for Lewis to make an appearance, and wondering what he was going to say—or do.—when he did finally show up.

  When the door eventually opened, though, it was only Maria, bringing in hot coffee and croissants. She gave Lorel a searching look, as if wanting to reassure herself that no harm had befallen her since yesterday evening. Then she smiled at her, and launched into a flood of Italian, to which Lorel replied with a rather inadequate, 'Buon giorno.'

  After Maria had left, Lorel spread marmalade on one of the croissants, and nibbled at it unenthusiastically. Then the door opened again, and this time it was Lewis who walked in.

  The piece of croissant in Lorel's mouth immediately seemed as large as a loaf of bread. Somehow, she managed to swallow it, and gulped down a couple of mouthfuls of coffee to help it down her dry throat.

  'Er—hello,' she said rather weakly.

  She was annoyed that she was behaving in this feeble way—after all, he hadn't done much more than kiss her last night—but for some reason she couldn't seem to help it. And, to add to her irritation, Lewis himself looked very relaxed this morning. No sign of twitchiness on his part.

  'Have you got any plans for today?' he asked, helping himself to some coffee.

  'No,' she replied, her tone slightly wary now. 'Why?'

  'I thought we might go for a walk.'

  'A walk?' she echoed, looking at him wide-eyed.

  Amusement briefly showed in Lewis's eyes. 'There's nothing particularly outrageous about that suggestion, is there?'

  'Well—no.'

  'Then why are you looking at me as if I'd just invited you to spend a week in bed?'

  A fresh wave of flustered confusion swept over her. 'I'm not—I'm sure you wouldn't—I mean-—' Thoroughly irritated with herself, she shook her head. 'Damn it, I wish you'd stop doing this to me!'

  'Doing what?' he enquired innocently.

  She shot a black glance at him. 'You know perfectly well!'

  He looked at her with laughing eyes. 'So that kiss last night did get to you.'

  'It certainly di
d not,' she retorted. 'It was just a kiss, that was all. Nothing special.'

  'Mmm.' From his tone, it was very clear that he didn't believe her. Conceited pig! she thought furiously to herself.

  'If that kiss was as marvellous as you obviously thought it was, then why didn't it bring back my memory?' she challenged him. 'After all, that was what it was meant to do, wasn't it?'

  'I can't quite remember the reason for it,' Lewis said cheerfully. 'But I do remember exactly how it felt,' he added in a much softer tone.

  A small shiver curled its way down Lorel's spine. So did she! She was determined not to let herself think about it too much, though. She was sure it wouldn't be at all sensible.

  'What about this walk?' she said, determined to change the subject. 'Where were you planning on going?'

  'To St Mark's Square,' he told her. 'I thought you might like to come along, and see if anything looks familiar.'

  'Still trying to jog my memory?'

  Lewis shrugged. 'It seems worth a try. It's the one place in Venice that I know you've visited. Going back there might just make something click inside your head.'

  'And when it comes down to it, that's all you really care about, isn't it?' she said with some annoyance. 'Making me remember where I put your rotten briefcase!'

  His eyes remained steady. 'Occasionally, I have other things on my mind.'

  Lorel decided that she didn't want to know what those 'other things' were.

  'All right, I'll come with you,' she agreed rather hastily. 'It's a lovely morning, and I could do with some fresh air.'

  She went up to fetch a light jacket. It felt rather odd to be clothed from head to foot in things which Lewis had bought for her, but she was sensible enough to know that she didn't have much alternative except to wear them.

  When she came down again, she found Lewis waiting for her in the high-ceilinged entrance hall. Her gaze slid over his immaculate shirt and obviously expensive suit.