Lonely Pride

by Tricia McGill

  * * *

  A heavy weight pressed on Sam’s middle, just below her breasts. Smiling secretly she ran a hand along that weight, knowing it was Mac’s arm, binding her securely to him, even in sleep.

  “Mac,” she said, loving the feel of him. Shifting, he moved his arm to capture a breast in his hand.

  “Wonderful woman,” he murmured sleepily, while his knee rubbed sensuously across her stomach in time with the magic hand bringing every nerve ending alive again.

  His mouth moved across her cheek until it found her mouth, and warmth like liquid honey flooded her lower body. That sensual lethargy enveloped her again and she was sinking into the velvety warmth. At the peripheral of her awareness she had the feeling she could hear drum beats coming from a great distance. Perhaps it was the beating of their hearts.

  Mac swore softly and lifted his head. She pulled him back down to her, grumbling softly. Surely he didn’t intend leaving her? “What is it?” Reaching for him, she took the initiative and kissed him.

  The noise became more insistent and it dawned on her it was someone knocking at his door—someone who didn’t intend going away until they gained attention.

  Mac cursed again beneath his breath as he gently untangled himself from Sam’s arms and swung his legs to the floor. He bent to press a quick kiss on her lips. “Hold it right there. I’ll get rid of the intruder and be right back.” Pulling on his underpants and jeans, he then sat on the side of the bed while he pulled up the zip.

  “Don’t answer it.” Sam moved onto her knees and pressed herself against his back, trapping him in her arms while she kissed his neck. “They’ll get fed up and go away.”

  He groaned. “Don’t tempt me, witch.” Gently he took her arms and pressed them at her sides. As he stood, he said, “It could be some poor injured creature. A dog could have been run over and suffering.” That hadn’t occurred to Sam. He was right of course. At the door he blew her a kiss. “Just one of the inconveniences of being a vet.”

  He came back with her clothes, and put them on a chair before going out, buttoning his shirt as he went. The hammering still went on.

  Sam stretched, feeling like a very satisfied, cream-filled cat. Her body felt tender in places, but she was also aware of feeling more alive than she’d ever felt. A blush suffused her whole body as she recalled her behavior in Mac’s strong arms.

  The warm glow dissipated and she stiffened when she heard Mac’s voice raised. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “It’s a bit late for paying a visit, isn’t it?”

  “But Mac darling, it’s only ten thirty. Surely you weren’t asleep. And I saw a car in the car park...”

  Sam jerked upright. Clare. She might have guessed. That’s just what she wanted to know. What was that bitch doing here?

  Sam rushed to close the bedroom door so the rest of Clare’s explanation was muffled. Sam sat on the side of the bed, her head in her hands. Would Mac get rid of her? A minute or two passed and still the soft drone of their voices drifted in. Of course Mac wouldn’t get rid of her—Clare was like a limpet. Sighing raggedly, Sam fumbled into her clothes. Her limbs felt numb—the exquisite lethargy long gone. Putting her hair into some semblance of order with his brush she touched her kiss swollen mouth with a fingertip as she stared at her reflection. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes still dewy.

  Sighing, she squared her shoulders. There was no running away this time. With the new-found assurance brought about by the certainty Mac cared for her, she was ready to face her adversary.

  When Sam entered the sitting room Clare’s icy glare should have frozen her to the floor.

  For a brief moment a flash of uncertainly drifted across her face. But that soon changed. “So, it’s our little Sam,” she scoffed. “I thought as much.”

  Sam looked at Mac, warmed by his soft smile. When she let her eyes wander back to Clare she saw her fingers were agitatedly running along the back of the couch, reminding Sam of a caged lion, ferocious, but slightly cowed.

  “Did you tell our sweet Sam about the baby?” Sam’s head went back at what seemed a stupid question.

  Mac looked puzzled. He scowled Clare’s way. “Sam knows you’re pregnant, if that’s what you mean. But I didn’t tell her, she heard it from one of the townspeople.” He shrugged carelessly. “Everybody knows, it’s no secret, is it?”

  Clare laughed, but it wasn’t a sound of pleasure. No, it was threaded with bitterness. For the first time Sam wondered if the woman was quite normal.

  “Bet you didn’t take too kindly to that news, did you?” Clare’s nails dug into the fabric as she gripped the back of the chair. “Poor Sam, missed out again.”

  Sam didn’t know whether to laugh hysterically or sob her heart out.

  Grim-faced, Mac took Clare by the shoulders and shook her, non-too-gently. “What game are you playing now, for God’s sake? Cut out the theatrics, woman. We all know this baby has nothing to do with me, so don’t start hinting it does.”

  As if he’d just hugged her instead of shaking the daylights out of her, Clare pouted. “Now, now, darling.” She patted his chin and he flinched back from her. “You aren’t about to back out of your responsibilities, are you? Just because I don’t want to marry you, doesn’t mean I don’t expect you to stand by me.”

  “You’re insane.” Mac’s face went ashen, the skin pulled tight across his cheek bones. For one dreadful moment Sam feared he might hit Clare, his anger looked so explosive. “I haven’t set one finger on you and let’s set the record straight, I wouldn’t spare you the time of day as far as a relationship was concerned if you were the last woman alive. Sam knows the truth.” Turning abruptly away he went to where Sam stood, her stomach a mass of knots. She felt sick, and swayed as she tried to control her emotions. This was like a scene out of a bad play—unreal.

  Anguish darkened Mac’s features. Clare gave a cry that sounded like an animal in pain. “You’d like to believe that. Our precious virgin princess here knows the truth, does she? Well, does she also know that you, along with every other man at university, desired me?”

  Mac’s fists clenched as he turned to face her again. “You were a tramp at uni. You slept with anyone in pants and we both know it. But it doesn’t follow that I shared the views of those other guys.” Sam had never heard him sound like this before—so filled with menace.

  Color suffused Clare’s cheeks, and it wouldn’t have surprised Sam if she melted into a pile of hot coals on the carpet. “Oh yes, Clare’s a tramp,” she screeched. “So, anyone can use her.” As tears streamed from her eyes, her mascara began to run, leaving ugly streaks down her cheeks. This was a woman on the threshold of madness. “Did it ever occur to you that I might have feelings? Did it ever occur to you I might love you, Mac?” Turning to stab a hateful look at Sam, she cried, “I made you forget the little virgin, didn’t I?”

  “I never touched you—you’re crazy.”

  An ache of misery was tearing Sam apart. She edged towards the door, but Mac came after her, grabbing at her wrist. Sam flinched as his fingers tightened over the sore place there, and he released her, his eyes grave as he pleaded, “Don’t go, we have to talk. You can’t possibly believe her. She’s not right in the head.”

  Perhaps they were all mad. Confusion racked Sam. What was Clare’s purpose in spouting such lies? If they were indeed lies. She had to get away. Collecting her bag she fled, ignoring his anguished call as she slammed the back door after her.

  A wind had blown up, and its gusts sent leaves flying about her legs as Sam fumbled for her car keys. She jumped as a dark shadow appeared behind her—but it was Mac. He gripped her upper arm. “She’s lying, Sam. Surely you can see she’s unbalanced?”

  “Is she? Is she lying, or you? I’m not sure if there’s a logical reason why I should believe her. But you’re not inexperienced in making love are you? Just where did you learn how to please a woman so? It could have been with her, couldn’t it?” Why was she spouting what she knew deep do
wn was utter nonsense?

  His head went back as he swallowed an oath. Raw pain shadowed his voice as he said with awful precision, “Believe it or not I followed my natural instincts. And on the subject of inexperience I could say the same for you. Did your Peter teach you all the tricks you know? Did he teach those hands of yours how to drive a man to the brink of insanity?”

  “But...I...I was.” Confusion engulfed her again, making it hard to control her speech. “I thought you knew you were my first.”

  “The first?” A sneer colored the two words. “But there was no pain, no discomfort. And surely it’s normal to see some blood. I’m no expert at these things, but I’m not a complete fool either.”

  Sam’s heart twisted. Surely he couldn’t believe she’d given herself to Peter. But he was right, there’d been no pain. She’d presumed it was because he had been so gentle with her. Or perhaps the years of horse riding? “No!” She pressed a hand to her mouth. Scrabbling for the door handle she almost fell as she stumbled into the driver’s seat.

  “Not a nice feeling, is it, to have someone disbelieve you like that?”

  Sam barely heard him over the ringing in her ears. Turning the key she slammed the door, ignoring his angry face as she drove off, the wheels skidding on the gravel. Like a woman possessed of the devil, she drove through the quiet streets of the town.