Passionate Awakening

by Diana Hamilton

  Surprising herself, Annie woke early, full of bounce, with no sign of the headache she so richly deserved.

  Dressing quickly in white cotton jeans and a nut-brown sleeveless top, she wondered if Luke was up yet, or whether he was still sleeping in because he'd been dragged back to the party.

  When he'd carried her through the villa last night he had been careful to avoid being seen by any of the others. They would have made capital out of her sorry condition, nothing was surer than that, so she owed him a big thank-you for that. And for a whole load of other things, she thought dreamily, as she dragged a comb through her tumbled hair. Things such as teaching her to trust again, to love…

  The last time she'd seen him had been when he had gently deposited her on her bed and then dropped a light but lingering kiss on her lips. He had disappeared then and moments later Nora had stumped in, her face resigned.

  'Luke tells me you're under the weather,' she'd stated, peering into Annie's flushed face. 'You shouldn't let her get to you.'

  She had known what Nora meant, whom she meant, and she had agreed tiredly, wanting nothing more than to be left alone, to curl up and sleep, just as she was. But Nora had insisted on helping her to undress, hanging her things away in one of the big cupboards before finally leaving.

  Annie put her comb down and touched her lips with bronze colour. It was barely six o'clock and she was going to make a pot of tea. She would drink it on the patio and dream a little. The details of her future and Luke's was something they were going to have to sort out later, when they'd left the villa—which would be this morning, if Annie had any say in the matter. But for now she could spin a few delicious daydreams all of her own!

  Walking silently along the corridor, her footsteps were muffled by the thick silky carpet. Blithely, she nipped around a corner then froze back against the wall, her heart slamming to a painful halt.

  Luke, barefoot, was emerging from Willa's bedroom. He turned slowly in the doorway, his back to her, his impressive masculine body naked save for a towel slung low on lean hips.

  The villa was hushed, with not even the servants stirring yet, and although his voice was lowered she could hear every word. Every betraying word.

  'Don't worry, I'll break the news to Annie myself, if that's what you'd prefer. I'll tell her exactly what's happened.'

  'I know it's cowardly, but yes, I would rather she heard it from you.' Willa's voice came breathlessly. 'Her opinion of me is already rock-bottom—'

  'It will be all right,' he assured her huskily. Willa had stepped beyond the shelter of her doorway, languorously lovely in a neglige that was little more than a cascade of black lace. Tentatively almost, she placed a white, scarlet-tipped hand against the tanned breadth of his chest and he lifted it to his lips. 'I promise, everything will be fine.' His voice took on a growl of humour that turned Annie sick. 'I know exactly how to deal with your daughter if she makes the unholy fuss you're afraid of!'

  'Truly? I shudder to think of what she'll say and do when she discovers—' Willa lifted her perfect profile and, utterly sickened, her blood rushing in painful surges through her veins, Annie watched as Luke bent to drop a kiss on the smooth pale forehead.

  Terrified of being discovered, of having them witness her distress, Annie pressed a hand to her racing heart, her mouth dry, as if she had swallowed ashes. But the two in the doorway were oblivious to anything but each other, and when she heard Luke murmur, 'Love takes many forms—Annie will understand—now, go back to bed, you must get some sleep,' she called desperately on all her mental and physical resources and made her way back to her own bedroom on shaky legs.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Annie didn't slam her door behind her; she closed it very quietly. She was going to handle this thing with dignity—she was left with nothing else but that.

  Her initial assessment of Luke's character had been the right one, she told herself grimly, as she folded her clothes into an open suitcase. He was a loner, self-sufficient, he travelled light and made no lasting commitments. And as far as women were concerned he enjoyed the thrill of the chase, the challenge—and, boy, she had been a challenge to his male ego all right! He had even had to say he loved her, and that must have been a first!

  Bitterly, she recalled how he'd remarked that he hadn't expected that things would turn out to be so easy. And that had to include her seduction! Just one word of love had been all it had taken, and words were cheap, weren't they? But after the conquest he was running true to form. He simply lost interest and turned his attention to new quarry.

  He was a man who would take female companionship where it was offered, provided the woman doing the offering was to his sophisticated taste. And Willa was. Oh, yes, Willa at her most enchanting would be to any man's taste! And hadn't the first words he'd spoken to her at that dreadful party said it all? 'Your mother's a fascinating woman.'

  Too fascinating to be resisted. Had Willa not been on the scene then Luke might have retained his interest in her for a few more weeks. But Willa had been on the scene, and obviously very willing. All her life Annie had watched men falling at her mother's feet, succumbing to that fatal charm. Why should Luke be any different? And hadn't she been warned that this very thing could happen?

  She had been every kind of fool, she admitted miserably. But his timing had been perfect. He had arrived just as she had realised she was in love with him. And his own words of love had been all that had been needed to tip the balance, to have her giving herself to him with wanton abandonment. She should have had more sense!

  Sometimes she didn't understand herself at all. What kind of woman could fall in love with a man who had openly admitted he was only interested in having an affair? But for some warped reasoning of the heart she had trusted him and what had happened had been predictable. After the chase, the conquest. After that—nothing. It was a typical pattern. He inhabited that shallow world where people looked for instant gratification, took what they wanted by fair means or foul.

  Her packing completed, she closed the suitcase with a snap. Now all she had to do was call a taxi. She wasn't running from Luke, not this time, she was walking away from a distasteful situation, and if she happened to bump into him before she left she would tell him, calmly and precisely, just what she thought of him!

  But all vestiges of composure left her as, after the briefest of taps, he appeared in her doorway. Her heart fluttered wildly and tears pushed at the back of her eyes.

  The towel was slung around his neck now, and his lean and muscular body was attired in brief scarlet swimming-trunks that left very little to the imagination.

  'Good morning, sweetheart. Feeling better?' His tone was lazy, very laid-back, but his intense blue eyes were, amazingly, a statement of desire.

  Annie tried to inject naked dislike into the stare she gave him back but felt her mouth quiver with nerves, her body ache with jealousy, her heart swell until she thought it would burst with love. Yes, damn it all, with love—even after what had happened!

  It would be a long time before she would get him out of her system, she acknowledged with an inner cry of despair. She cursed the day that they had met.

  If he had never heard of Monk's Hall, never set foot in Seabourne, then she wouldn't now have been facing the dereliction of heartbreak.

  He came further into the room, tossing the towel over the top of a chair, his dark hair rumpled, making her stupid heart lurch because he was too damned attractive. Beautiful.

  'You're packed?' He had noticed the suitcase, the bed Annie had already stripped, and he added, unforgivably, 'I promised Willa we'd stay on for at least another few days.'

  'Did you?' The colour drained from her face, leaving it ashen, and her body was rigid with the effort of holding her temper in check. Was he planning on having an affair with both of them? He was sick! she railed inwardly, almost hysterical.

  But it was difficult to think straight when faced by his devastating near nudity, by his diabolical behaviour, and almost imp
ossible to speak. But she got the question out at last because she had to have his confirmation of what she had seen and heard.

  'Were you with Willa last night?'

  'I was.' His narrowed eyes met hers squarely, as if he saw nothing wrong in his behaviour, and she dragged in a gasp of searing pain.

  'Then you're welcome to stay on here for as long it takes to get tired of each other. I'm leaving,' she stated rawly, her eyes glittering like rain-washed jet. 'And I hope I never see you again. You and she just about deserve each other!'

  Willa was welcome to Luke. She hadn't liked the home-truths Annie had come out with, not one little bit, and the way she had spoken to her last night had been the final straw. So Willa had taken her revenge in the only way she knew how, and Luke, damn him, had been more than willing to aid and abet her!

  Pointedly, she looked at her wristwatch and moved stiffly towards the door. 'I have a phone call to make,' she told him, her voice stilted with the effort of holding on to her self-control.

  But he blocked her path, his eyes grim.

  'What is it with you?' he grated, anger showing in the flashing steel of his eyes. 'What's this stuff about Willa? About walking out on me again?' His ruthlessly determined hands caught her upper arms, swinging her round to face him when she would have pushed past him to the open door. 'We've come a long way in a short time, Annie, further than I dared hope,' he ground out, his fingers biting into her cringing flesh, 'given your blind spot on honest-to-God emotion.'

  'And is that what you call your little fling with Willa?' she hurled at him, learning that it was possible to love and hate at the same time, hating the instinctive way her treacherous body reacted to the searing nearness of him. ' "Honest-to-God emotion"? You make me ill!'

  'I don't understand you.' His face was tight. He kicked the door closed with his foot, holding her still, his hard fingers leaving bruises that would last for days.

  'Oh, don't you?' she sneered. 'And I thought you were an intelligent man! You admit to spending the night with Willa—'

  'I did no such thing!' His voice was a lash of contemptuous fury. He looked as if he could have killed her with his bare hands. 'You asked me if I'd been with Willa last night, and so I had. For about a couple of hours.' His words were clipped, derisive. 'I couldn't sleep, so after tossing and turning for hours I went to the pool for a swim. A short time later your mother appeared. She hadn't been able to sleep, either. We talked, that's all. And, in the mood you're in, I have no intention of enlightening you on the subject matter.' He thrust her from him as though she repelled him. 'And if you can make something squalid out of that, then I don't think I like the way your minds works!' He picked up his towel, draping it around his neck. 'If you can't trust me, Annie, then I don't want to know.' His rejection of her was bitter.

  But he paused at the door, his eyes chillingly cold, hauntingly beautiful.

  'I've been as gentle with you as I know how, all along the line, and I followed you here because I had to. But even my patience has its limits. If what we had means anything at all to you then you'll take time to think things over. You'll stay here and eat lunch with Willa and me in a civilised manner. And maybe—only maybe—I'll be able to bring myself to talk to you this afternoon. But I don't promise anything will come of it because I'm through chasing you. But I do promise this: if you walk out now you'll never see me again.'

  She had been shuddering inside ever since he had left the room, his disgust with her plain to see. His anger had been so real, so shattering. As he had said, his patience had finally run out.

  His actions, his words, hadn't been those of a two-timing louse. Stark fury had shown in his eyes when he'd accused her of not trusting him, a cold, rejecting bitterness when he'd finally walked out.

  And, whatever the rights or wrongs of the situation, she loved him and without him she would always be lonely. But he had said that without trust he didn't want to know. She hadn't trusted him. She still didn't know if she did. The things he had been saying when he'd left Willa's room hadn't sounded like casual conversation!

  But she could have handled things differently had she stopped to think. She could have gone to Luke and calmly and sensibly asked him to explain what she had overheard, what she had seen, not verbally jumped on him with bald accusations. So now she was going to have to confront the two of them, ask them to explain what had been happening. It wasn't something she looked forward to, but it had to be done.

  Lunch was the kind of nightmare she never wanted to live through again. Willa was plainly ill at ease, fidgeting restlessly with her cutlery, hardly eating a thing, casting more furtive glances at her wrist-watch than she did at the company.

  Annie struggled manfully with her asparagus quiche and salad, feeling in disgrace as Luke either ignored her or fixed her with that polished marble stare of his. No eyes had the right to be so chilling, to probe deep into her soul, petrifying it with that frigid gorgon stare. Every muscle in her body seemed to be on fire with the tension that was burning her up, every nerve-end shrieking in raw agony. Had Luke entertained a single shred of his former feeling for her she would have detected it.

  That he didn't he was making abundantly clear. And it hurt, dear God, it hurt!

  She had to say something now or concede defeat, walk away from Luke and never look back. But she knew she would always be looking back at what might have been, what could have been.

  Hiding her shaking hands beneath the tablecloth, she cleared her throat.

  'Is one of you going to explain about the news Luke was supposed to break to me?' she asked, her voice tinny. She was hardly aware of Willa's gasp, of the way she dropped her fork to her plate with a clatter that sounded deafening in the suddenly silent room. She was only aware of the strange stillness of Luke's body, of his intent gaze. Flustered, she licked her lips and tried again, 'The gist of the conversation I overheard as Luke left your room, Mother, very early this morning—'

  She forced herself to look at the actress, thrown off-balance by the look of distress on the older woman's face, but ploughed on doggedly '—had something to do with some unpalatable news Luke was supposed to break.'

  'Oh, Luke!' Willa was obviously shaken. 'You haven't—?'

  'Told her yet?' Luke put in. 'No. Annie and I have been engaged in quite a different battle.' He dropped his napkin on the table and stood up, helping Willa to her feet. 'Why don't you go and rest? I'll tell Annie all she needs to know.'

  Surprisingly, his eyes were soft with a kind of concern, showing nothing of the bitterness that had been there earlier, as he turned to her after escorting Willa to the door.

  'You were there when I left after taking Willa back to her room this morning?' he questioned softly and Annie could only nod. What difference did it make? She didn't understand what was going on.

  'What you overheard must have seemed pretty damning,' he conceded. 'Shall we take a walk?'

  Shying away from his warm glance, she nodded, getting clumsily to her feet, reaching the open french windows before him.

  She didn't know how he could explain away what she'd overheard and, suddenly, she was afraid to hear it. He had rejected her this morning because of her lack of trust. Nothing had changed.

  Was he about to give her another tongue-lashing for her lack of trust? Was he going to lie to her about what had been happening in Willa's room in the early hours of this morning?

  'Luke, I don't need this,' she said thickly. 'You said all there was to say this morning.'

  'I said that if you stayed, didn't do another runner, we would talk,' he reminded softly.

  'You said maybe,' she corrected acidly, a sudden unlooked-for spurt of anger sending adrenalin rushing through her veins. She turned, her eyes bright, filled with unshed tears. 'But maybe,' she stressed, 'I think enough has been said.'

  'Annie!' Her name, on his lips, was a sigh wrenched from his soul. 'How could you not have trusted me after the beautiful thing we shared? I know the evidence of your eyes and ears must ha
ve been damning, but at least you could have asked me. Your lack of trust was something I simply couldn't cope with.'

  They had reached the shore now, almost without her being aware of it, and tears stung her eyes as she remembered the beauty of his lovemaking, here on this very spot. And tears blurred her vision, breaking the smooth surface of the sea into a million dancing lights.

  'How could you believe me to be the type of man to make love to you in the afternoon and ravish your damned mother at night? I may not be a saint, but I'm not a bloody tomcat!'

  'I know.' Every last trace of anger left her. She did know now, when it was probably far too late. She had been defeated by her own idiocy. 'But I had my reasons.'

  'Then tell me,' he demanded thickly. 'I can think of no reason on God's sweet earth that could make you believe I'd spent the night making love to Willa. She's a beautiful woman but, damn it all, Annie— I was in love with you.'

  'Was' being the operative word, she thought dully, watching as he began restlessly to pace the sand.

  'I loved you more than I loved my pride,' he grated, whirling back to face her, the breadth of his chest heaving with suppressed emotion. 'Otherwise I would have given up on you when you walked out on me back in England. So tell me,' he commanded, his mouth a grim slash, 'why couldn't you have asked for my side of the story before jumping to all those hateful conclusions?'

  She shook her head. What was the use? He was angry, bitter, as he probably had every right to be. But, on his own admission, the love he'd had for her had died. So what was the point of saying anything?

  'Annie—' his hands fastened on her shoulders, the pressure of his fingers turning her flesh to fire '—I have never spanked a woman in my life. Don't make me do it now.'