'Now we come to your training,' Tod said. 'This particular stunt is very demanding. As his rider, you're responsible for the fall being made in exactly the right place, for giving him the correct signal at the correct moment. In effect, you're responsible for the horse's safety as well as your own.'
Gina was a little nervous at first, not so much for herself, but that she should not harm an obviously valuable animal. But Theresa was coolly competent and since Tod had wandered off, leaving the two girls together, she felt less pressure and by the end of the session was giving quite a good account of herself.
'Give her a week,' Theresa told Tod, when he returned, 'and she should be ready to go. Fortunately, you've picked yourself an excellent horsewoman.' She smiled at Gina in a friendly fashion and Gina found herself liking the other girl.
Next morning, Tod handed over the keys of his car.
'Think you can get yourself over to Theresa's for the rest of your lessons?'
'What will you be doing?' Gina felt a stab of disappointment. She had enjoyed her early morning drives with Tod, able to pretend for a while that he was hers.
'We start filming today. We'll work on Marcha's scenes, the close-ups, and then, when you're ready to go, we'll take the "stand-in" shots.'
In her absence, would they also be shooting the love scenes between Marcha and Tod? Gina hoped so. She hoped fervently that they would all be completed before she was expected to attend the filming sessions. She didn't want to actually see Marcha in Tod's arms; imagining it was bad enough.
For the rest of that week, she travelled alone, returning to Mallions each day, sore and weary, but with a growing sense of achievement. She was becoming more and more confident of her ability to do what was asked of her. She saw little of Tod or Marcha. If they were not filming, they seemed to be dining out. Greg was coldly civil whenever she encountered him and she was sorry their easy cameraderie was gone.
Thus, feeling a little lonely, Gina began spending her spare time in the nursery.
'I wonder,' Sally said one evening, rather diffidently, 'if you'd mind being on your own with Melanie. I have the offer of a date and I'd rather like to accept.'
'Of course you must go,' Gina said at once. 'I'd love to babysit.'
'Do you think we ought to ask Mr Fallon's permission first?'
'We can't. He's out himself. But in any case, I don't see why he should object, as long as there's someone with Melanie. Andy's on duty outside tonight, isn't he?'
So it was arranged, and Gina had the satisfaction of playing with the child, giving her her tea, bathing her and reading a bedtime story until she fell asleep. She turned the light down, barely a glimmer retained just in case Melanie woke. There was no reason now why she should not return to the outer room and read her own book. But somehow it was very peaceful, sitting here in the dim light, watching the child's lovely little face tranquil in sleep, hearing the even tenor of her breathing. Seated in a low chair beside the bed, Gina leant over Melanie, her expression rapt, her eyes wistful. How she would have loved a daughter just like this.
So engrossed was she in her silent worship that she did not hear the soft opening of the door that communicated between nursery and bedroom. But then awareness of another presence in the room made her start. She knew at once who it was, every nerve end told her. After Tod had assured himself of his daughter's well-being, he beckoned Gina to follow him into the outer room.
'What the hell,' he demanded, 'are you doing here? Where's Sally?'
'She had the chance of an evening out, so I volunteered to babysit.'
'I suppose,' he said sarcastically, 'that it never occurred to either of you that, as Sally's employer, my permission might be sought?'
'Yes, it occurred to us,' Gina said evenly, 'but since you were out yourself, presumably with Marcha, it wasn't possible to consult you. It seemed a pity for Sally to miss her chance, just because you're always out enjoying yourself. And I'm quite capable of looking after Melanie.'
He moved to shut the door between the two rooms, then returned, studying her appraisingly.
'You puzzle me,' he said at last.
'Oh?' she returned lightly. 'In what way?'
'This . .. this "thing" you seem to have about your cousin. Don't think I haven't noticed your subtle denigration of her. Yet she never has anything but good to say of you.'
Gina's lip curled. How easily men were deceived by a lovely face, and of course Marcha was a consummate actress, by profession and by nature.
'Except apparently, that I'm "frigid".'
'That,' he said drily, 'was in the nature of a recommendation as far as I was concerned. She knows my views on fraternisation and she said you'd hardly be a threat to any of my crew, since you'd turned violently against all men; that probably you should never have married in the first place, since you weren't the domesticated or the romantic type.'
'Well thank you, Marcha!' Gina exclaimed. 'As a recommendation that takes the biscuit. Or was it a recommendation? It sounds to me as if she was more afraid that your attention might wander in her absence. Obviously she's not blind to your weaknesses.'
To accuse a man like Tod of any weakness was a dangerous thing to do, a provocation to retaliation. Gina recognised the danger signals in the tightening of his lips, the hardening of his eyes.
'Are you blind to your weaknesses, Gina?' he asked softly. He moved to the outer door of the nursery and, scarcely believing her eyes, she saw him turn the key in the lock.
'W-what are you doing? I don't know what you mean.' Unfortunately, she did and the knowledge turned her knees to water.
'Oh, you know very well, Gina. It seems Marcha was mistaken. With your own sex you may be able to keep up your act, but not with a man, a real man. I don't know anything about your husband, whether or not he was capable of plumbing your depths, but I know I am. I've come very close to it once or twice and now I'm tempted to go all the way.'
'No! You ... you won't. I shan't let you. I'll...'
'You'll what? Throw me over your shoulder as you did Greg? Now that puzzles me, too! You've had plenty of opportunities, Gina, but you didn't take them. Is it possible you didn't really want to discourage me? Why didn't you use your unarmed combat skills?'
'I ... I didn't think it would be any use,' she improvised. 'You said you'd been a stuntman. I ... I thought your skills would be far more advanced than mine.'
'They are, as it happens. But I still don't believe you. I know women, Gina. You're not as immune to me as you'd have me believe. It's there in the way you talk about your cousin in relation to me. I believe you're jealous, not just because she has the lead in my film but because…'
'Because she's your mistress? Never!' Gina said vehemently. 'I'll never lower myself to be that to any man. If ever I were to trust one of your sex again, which I doubt, it would be marriage or nothing. Marcha may have the morals of an alley cat, but they don't run in the family.'
'No?' he enquired softly. 'Then how would you describe your undoubtedly receptive reactions to my lovemaking?'
'Lovemaking? Is that what you call it? I'd call it good old-fashioned lust. Oh, I won't deny you know precisely how to arouse a woman's baser instincts to match your own, and I am only human.'
'Yes, I know how to arouse you, Gina, and it's a very pleasurable experience. But I wouldn't call your instincts base, just natural. Especially in view of your alleged long abstinence.'
It was a warm night, but she knew that was not responsible for the prickles of nervous perspiration bedewing her skin. His eyes were fixedly regarding her breasts and she knew that the thrust of them against the thin material of her summer dress was betraying her body's immediate reaction to him, to his words. Her instinct was to step backwards, but there was nowhere to retreat.
To relieve their nervous dryness, she licked her lips, tried to avoid his gaze, but his eyes held hers. His were amused, yet dark, too, with something else, something physically frightening yet, at the same time, infinitely exciting. Like
a wild creature charmed by its predator, she was unable to move as he reached out and touched the soft creamy flesh exposed by the elasticated, boat-shaped neckline of her dress.
'You're warm, Gina,' he murmured, 'warm and living. What was it you said about everyone needing something warm and living to hold?'
'I was talking about Melanie and .. . and the kitten.' But she was helpless to push his hand away as it continued its investigation.
He moved closer, both of his hands now employed in stretching the neckline until it slid down, exposing her shoulders, the swell of her breasts. Slowly, so slowly, his head bent over her, then his mouth tasted and savoured her skin, sending tremors of sensation through her, arousing a desire to know more of his sensual expertise.
'I've found myself thinking about you a lot just lately, Gina,' he murmured, 'imagining what it would be like to make love to you fully.' His voice grew throatier. 'Not just once, but day after day.'
If he only knew it, her thoughts had paralleled his often, imagining such moments as this, moments, however, of genuine emotion, of commitment, which could be carried without shame to their natural conclusion. This could not, must not.
His fingers at the nape of her neck drew her nearer to him.
'Can you imagine it, Gina?' His voice was seductive, evocative of the picture he painted. 'I know you can. You, naked, in my arms, both of us naked. It so nearly happened once, didn't it? I touched your body, felt it come alive, but then I drew back, fool that I was. For a while I had this crazy idea that I was wrong about you, that you were worthy of something better, that you weren't for me or for any man on a casual basis. But I should have known better, shouldn't I? You wanted me then, you would have let me possess you, and I threw away my opportunity. Can you imagine how many times I've regretted that? But I'm not going to throw away my chance this time. Why should I when there's been Greg! And then there's this man you want to visit. I can't speak for him, of course, but I know Greg. I think I can promise you I'd be more subtle, more sensitive.'
She shook her head. He was wrong, horribly wrong in his insinuations and yet, bemused, still she stared into his eyes, unaware how hers registered her conflicting emotions. The recent, searing contact of his mouth against her shoulders had brought all the sensuality of her own nature into leaping life. He took advantage of her immobility, covering her mouth with his, parting her lips with consummate ease, the pressure of his warm and firm, erotically evocative.
Unable to restrain herself from following instincts she had long wished to indulge, she allowed her hands to glide up over Tod's broad shoulders, then over his neck, until her fingers were lost in the crisp, dark hair, a delicious, tactile experience. Meanwhile, he plundered her mouth with an expertise that made her whole body tremble furiously.
When the kiss ceased, it was all she could do to remain standing. Indeed, if it had not been for the support of his arms, she doubted she would have done so. His voice was warm, seductive.
'You want me, Gina, don't you?'
Helplessly, she shook her head, made an attempt to pull away, but it was a feeble effort at best. She felt limp, boneless, and she could sense his triumphant awareness of her pliancy.
This time the pressure of his lips was harder as he sought to force a verbal as well as a physical acknowledgment from her, and she knew this was serious. He wasn't playing with her. His body proclaimed all too surely its own arousal, evidence of a very powerful and unmistakable physical need, and for the first time she began to realise that he did intend to appease it.
Her body grew warmer still as the blood heated and flowed more rapidly in her veins, while pulses hammered a minor accompaniment to her heart. There was no resistance in her, her total concentration was upon her senses, their crying needs. Too often her body had awakened to Tod's, too often been denied. Now he had no need to force her lips apart. They opened to him willingly, her tongue duelling frantically with his. Her hands clasped vicelike about his neck, as if they would never release him, her body stirred and pressed against him in deliberate provocation, making its own plea for satisfaction.
In answer, he pushed her down upon the settee, his weight upon hers a glorious, temporary appeasement of her wanting, but not for long. It was not enough. As his lips, his hands made tormenting trails over her body, she tensed against him, small husky groans in her throat protesting against his procrastination, urging him to release the pent-up dam of their mutual longing. Never, not even with Tod himself, had she experienced such violent, such painful surges of desire, feelings so strong that they obliterated all reason, all promptings of common sense, so that nothing mattered but that they should reach the natural harmony of final consummation.
It was the squeak of the communicating door that broke across what no other force could have destroyed. Melanie's bedroom door. This was no scene for a child to witness. Abruptly they were apart, each thankful for the temporary dazzlement in the child's eyes as she came from the half-light of her room into the brightness of the nursery.
'Gina, where's my kitten? I want him.'
'Sally took him down to the kitchen for his supper,' Gina explained gently. To Tod, sotto voce, she said, 'We thought you might not approve of him sleeping on her bed.'
'Oh.' He shrugged impatiently and she knew frustrated desire was still riding him, as it did her. 'If she wants the animal let her have it. I'll go down and get the damned thing.'
Gina guessed that he needed the excuse, time to bring himself under control. As for herself, she concentrated her attention on the child, drawing her into her arms, leaning her cheek against the dark, curly hair. If only this were her own child, she held ... hers and Tod's, the outcome of their impassioned lovemaking. Such intensity of feeling as they had known here this evening would surely have resulted in .'.. Then she remembered, remembered that such a thing could not be for her, ever, with any man. Her face crumpled suddenly and she felt the sting of bitter tears.
When Gina had realised how Keith had deceived her, the traumatic shock had precipitated a miscarriage, followed by the shattering intelligence that, for her, there were unlikely to be more pregnancies.
For a long while before and after her divorce, Gina had been low in health and spirits, too numb to care. Grief for the child that might have been brought its own, blessed, concomitant paralysis of thought. Only later, when her physical strength began to return, did she realise the depths of her hurt, the psychological damage caused by the loss of her most valuable feminine attribute. She hadn't realised until then just how much her confidence in her own femininity had buoyed her up in her career. Now she felt only half a woman, uncertain of her identity.
Returning, the kitten tucked under his arm, Tod paused on the threshold, his breath catching in his throat, all the measures he had taken to cool his feverish wanting undone by the sight before him.
How lovely she was, how lovely and how desirable. There was that family resemblance to Marcha and yet, somehow, disturbingly, she wasn't like her. And she sat there, holding his child, as if it were the most natural thing in the world that she should do so ... his child! He felt his breath exhale raggedly. What sort of children would they produce, he and Gina, if ever ... Then, as Gina had done, he crushed the thought. Never again, he vowed, never again. Those who loved got hurt. When Maria had died, he'd sworn always to keep a part of himself to himself; any hurt, therefore, would be minimal, easily shaken off. Never again would he submit mind and heart, as well as body, to the toll love took.
And now, here he was, almost wallowing in, unwanted sentimentality, just because a lovely woman, whom he desired, nursed his child. He moved, cleared his throat and the little tableau was disturbed; but as Gina looked up, he caught the unmistakable glint of tears on her cheeks and all his resolutions wavered. He was beside her in an instant.
'What is it, Gina? Tell me, what is it?'
'N-nothing. At least.. .' She could not quell the little sob that rose in her throat, it was just that ... sitting here with Melanie, it brough
t home to me all that I'm missing ... a ... a child of my own.' Her throat closed up. She could say no more. She couldn't find the words to tell him of her deepest unhappiness, that she could never bear a child.
So she was regretting the past, was she? Tod thought grimly. A few years ago, according to Marcha, she'd refused her husband's pleas that she lead a domesticated life, so he'd left her for a woman willing to bear his children. Yet despite this knowledge, Tod found himself unable to harden his heart against her. His arms encircled them both, Gina and the now sleeping child.
'Never mind, my love,' he whispered, 'it's not too late. You're still young.' He did not see the despairing shake of her head, the lips that shaped the word 'never' as he took Melanie from her arms and carried the child back to bed.
When he returned, he found Gina talking to Sally, her face as composed as if she had never shed those tears.
'Yes, thank you, miss,' Sally was saying. 'I had a lovely evening at the cinema at Aylesbury. Oh, Mr Fallon,' as she noticed him on the threshold of the two rooms, 'I hope you didn't mind, but...'
'Not a bit,' he said brusquely. 'I'm afraid we've all tended to take you for granted. I'm sure Miss Darcy will sit for you again?' He looked at Gina.
'Oh ... oh yes,' she whispered, head suddenly downbent. But could she bear to do this again, expose her still vulnerable heart to the ecstatic agony of watching over another woman's child? But Melanie was also Tod's child; in holding Melanie, she held, too, a part of Tod, a very important part. She raised her head, eyes brilliant with yet more tears, but steadily fixed on his. 'I'd like that,' she said.
He steered her from the room and she went with him blindly, for the stupid tears would not let her see where she walked. On the darkened landing, he drew her into his arms again.
'I'll give you five minutes,' he whispered, his body trembling against hers, 'then I'll come to your room.'
Oh no. No. Give me the strength to resist, to refuse him, she pleaded inwardly.
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