Ewen began to move involuntarily, and Rosanna held him close and moved with him in a rhythm which grew to a frenzied crescendo as he took her to the very brink of ecstasy at last, held her there for an endless, throbbing moment, then fell with her over the edge into fulfilment so intense, sleep overcame Rosanna almost instantly.
She woke at some point to find Ewen drawing the covers over them before taking her back into his warm, already familiar embrace, then she sank back, unresisting, into a sleep so deep she thought she was dreaming when she felt caressing, cajoling fingers on her skin, and a mouth which pressed warm, drugging kisses against her neck and shoulders. She gave a low, dreamy little sound of contentment and stretched luxuriously, letting the tide of sensation lap over her, until she was fully awake and Ewen’s mouth was on hers, and it was all happening again, slower now, with long-drawn-out attention paid to every step of the way. Rosanna grew bolder in the dark cocoon of warmth beneath the covers. Her questing touch brought Ewen to breaking point with deeply gratifying speed, and he rolled her beneath him, captured her hands and held them wide, his knee nudging her thighs apart as he kissed her fiercely and took possession of her once more.
When Rosanna woke next it was daylight, and she was alone in the wildly untidy bed. She straightened the covers hastily and pulled them up to her chin, pushing the hair out of her eyes as Ewen backed through the door with a laden tray.
He put it down carefully on the bedside table, then grinned at her broadly as he bowed and handed her a snapdragon.
‘Good morning. I thought you’d prefer this to a rose.’
‘Good morning,’ she said breathlessly, feeling absurdly shy. ‘Thank you. Have you been out in the garden like that?’ She eyed his towelling robe, which ended halfway down his thighs.
‘No one to see,’ he said unrepentantly. ‘Coffee?’
‘Yes, please.’
He filled a cup and handed it to her. ‘I didn’t bother to get dressed.’ He leaned a hand either side of her on the bed, smiling down into her eyes. ‘I thought I’d get back in here with you for breakfast.’
Rosanna looked away, and felt him stiffen.
‘Somehow I don’t think you care for the idea.’ Ewen straightened and poured himself some coffee, then sat on the edge of the bed, pointedly keeping his distance. ‘You’re obviously not a morning person, Rosanna Carey.’
‘True,’ she said, and gulped some coffee. ‘I’m also very untidy, I haven’t brushed my teeth, and I’d like a bath.’
‘By the time you’ve done all that the toast will be greasy and the coffee cold,’ he pointed out.
‘I’m not hungry,’ she muttered.
‘All right, Rosanna,’ he said wearily. ‘I can take a hint. I’ll top up your coffee then take my unwanted breakfast—and myself—downstairs.’
‘Thank you.’ She looked up at him in appeal. ‘Could we leave soon, please?’
His eyes narrowed to the slanting gleam which always made her apprehensive. ‘Of course. What time do you have to be back?’
‘I’m due at my parents’ house at twelve.’
‘Right,’ he said curtly. ‘We’ll leave about ten. Take your time over your bath.’
When Ewen had gone Rosanna laid her head on her drawn-up knees and gave way to a few bitter, unrelieving tears, then threw back the covers, picked up her clothes and shut herself in the bathroom. There was only one toothbrush in sight, but just this once Ewen would have to let her use it. After a rapid but blessedly hot bath she felt a little better, but there was nothing she could do about the creases in her skirt and blouse, which lay in a crumpled heap where Ewen had thrown them on the floor. Heat rushed all over her at the thought of it, and it took her a moment or two to recover before she went downstairs to find her handbag to complete the tidying-up process.
Ewen was in the garden, scattering the uneaten toast for the birds. The day was cloudier, with a cool breeze, and he was shivering a little as he came back in. ‘You were quick,’ he said briskly. ‘I’ll have a bath myself before we go. Make some more coffee if you want.’
‘Thank you,’ said Rosanna, thoroughly miserable by this time.
While Ewen was upstairs she searched in her handbag for lipstick, combed her hair, then she put on the linen jacket and buttoned it up over the creased silk shirt. When he came back she was sitting in the conservatory with a cup of fresh coffee, looking at one of the previous day’s newspapers.
‘There’s more coffee in the pot,’ she offered.
‘Good,’ he said brusquely, and went off to fetch it, looking a lot better than she did, thought Rosanna resentfully. He was wearing a clean blue shirt and linen trousers, and had shaved and taken some time to subdue his unruly hair. It was his house, of course. He had everything to hand. But it put her at a disadvantage to feel grubby and rumpled and less than her best.
‘So,’ said Ewen, sitting down beside her. ‘What now, Rosanna?’
She made no pretence of misunderstanding. ‘Ewen, last night was wonderful, enchanted, like nothing that’s ever happened to me before—’
‘By which,’ he interrupted bitingly, ‘I take it you don’t intend it to happen again.’ He turned to look at her, his eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘Are you telling me it was just a one-night stand?’
‘Please don’t cheapen it, Ewen,’ she begged. ‘I’m sorry. It was my fault—’
‘No, it damn well wasn’t your fault,’ he snapped. ‘It was mutual, Rosanna.’ He stared out into the garden, his face grim. ‘I write too much fiction, I suppose, a devotee of the happy ending syndrome. I had this far-fetched idea that after last night you’d admit that we’re meant for each other. That we belong.’
‘Even if I did admit it, I can’t do anything about it,’ she said, anguished. She turned reddened, tear-wet eyes on him. ‘When you asked me down here did you intend it to happen?’
Ewen said nothing for a moment, then he turned to look at her, his mouth twisting as he saw her unshed tears. ‘I didn’t intend it. But I suppose some secret part of me hoped it would. I’m human—and male.’ His eyes hardened. ‘But you fell in love with the cottage, not me. I was mad to ask you to stay on for supper.’
‘You only asked,’ she pointed out. ‘I could have said no.’
‘Then why the hell didn’t you?’
‘I wish I had now,’ she said with passion.
‘Why?’ He reached out a hand and took hers, his fingers tightening cruelly.
Rosanna flinched. ‘Because then last night would never have happened. But it did. And now I’ve got to try and forget it. Lord knows how, but I must. I’ve promised to marry David. I’ve never been unfaithful to him before—’ She breathed in sharply. ‘Ewen, please! You’re hurting me.’
He flung her hand away and stared blindly at the garden. ‘What would you say if I asked you to marry me instead?’ he said at last, as though the words were forced out of him.
‘What? Rosanna glared at him, incensed. ‘After all you’ve said about marriage? It would serve you right if I said yes. Not that I would even if you were serious. I couldn’t hurt David like that.’
‘You’re ready to hurt me,’ he said bitterly.
‘I don’t want to,’ she said in desperation. ‘But, Ewen, we haven’t known each other long. If it hadn’t been for Rose, and Harry, we wouldn’t know each other as well as we do. But my future lies with David. He’s been working so hard for years, just to make it possible for us to marry. I can’t throw all that up in exchange for a love affair with you. Much as I—’ She stopped dead.
After a taut, pregnant silence Ewen asked silkily, ‘What were you going to say, Rosanna?’
‘Much as I like you,’ she went on doggedly, ‘I love David. I’ve behaved appallingly. I freely admit it. I should never have come here yesterday—nor agreed to work for you in the first place.’
‘So why did you?’ he said inexorably.
She shrugged, a wry smile at the corners of her mouth. ‘You know why. That’s what you always s
ay to me.’
‘But I don’t know why,’ he said through his teeth. ‘Explain.’
Because I’m in love with you, she thought despairingly. ‘Because of Rose and Harry,’ she said aloud. ‘I suppose I felt—involved.’
‘And now you’re going to let history repeat itself.’ Ewen got up suddenly and pulled her up into his arms. ‘You and I could have a happy ending, Rosanna. You’re not Rose, giving up the man she loved for the wounded war hero. And I’m not Harry, either, the gentleman prepared to take no for an answer.’
‘Please don’t, Ewen!’ Tears gathered in Rosanna’s eyes, and slid down her cheeks. ‘You want what happened last night. I want it, too. But you know it wouldn’t last. My relationship with David is different, the durable kind—’
‘And do you tremble for him like this?’ said Ewen hoarsely, and licked away the tears on her cheeks. His mouth found hers, one hand undoing her jacket to caress her, and she stiffened and tried to push him away, but he held her close, kissing her with an angry desperation she responded to helplessly. Neither of them noticed the girl standing in the kitchen doorway until her loud cough brought them back to earth.
‘I saw the car was still here,’ said Sally, darting a hostile look at Rosanna. ‘I thought you’d like the Sunday papers.’
‘Hello, Sally,’ said Ewen with forced cheerfulness. ‘That’s very kind of you.’ He fished in his pocket for a handful of change and paid the girl, then walked with her to the front door, giving Rosanna time to pull herself together.
Ewen stayed chatting to Sally Todd for a while, and by the time he came back his mood was vastly different.
‘Sorry about the caveman tactics,’ he said coolly. ‘I’ll drive you back now.’
‘Thank you.’
He looked at his watch. ‘I’ve delayed you, I’m afraid. I’d better drive you straight to Ealing.’
Rosanna shook her head. ‘I can’t go home looking like this. Just take me to the flat. I’ll go by Underground to the Broadway.’
‘Certainly not. It’s my fault you’re late. I’ll drive you to the flat and wait for you.’
Ewen put the hood up on the car before they began what proved to be the most unbearable journey of Rosanna’s entire life. Ewen talked, in the beginning with reason and intelligence, in the end with passionate force, on the subject of why they were meant to be lovers. That like Harry and Rose they belonged together. In vain Rosanna argued with him, pitting the years she’d had with David against the brief duration of her time with Ewen, which evoked such a stony silence from him, the rest of the journey was a nightmare. By the time they reached London Rosanna felt exhausted and miserable and desperate to get out of the car.
When they arrived at the flat Ewen found a parking space and remained with the car while Rosanna hurried inside to change her clothes for jeans and a plain white cotton shirt. She thrust her bare feet into navy deck shoes, and made a few lightning repairs to her face, tied her hair back with a white-dotted red scarf, snatched up her jacket and ran out to the car.
‘Sorry to hold you up,’ she panted as she slid into the car.
‘Not at all. You were remarkably swift.’ Ewen tossed his newspaper into the back of the car. ‘Sally provided me with reading matter, remember.’
If his reminder of Sally’s interruption was deliberate it was very successful. Rosanna’s eyes kindled behind her dark glasses, but Ewen made no further reference to the episode as he drove, and said very little at all until Rosanna asked him to park a fair distance away from her home.
‘Why?’ he demanded. ‘I’d like to meet your parents.’
‘Well, you can’t,’ she said irritably. ‘How can I explain away the fact that you’re driving me there on a Sunday morning? Please, Ewen,’ she entreated, but he ignored her and parked the car directly outside the house.
‘Calm down,’ he said, and walked with her up the drive. ‘While we’re alone, listen closely. I haven’t changed my mind. As I’ve said before, I’m not Harry Manners, officer and gentleman. I refuse to let you ruin two lives.’
‘Just one life—David’s!’ she retorted.
‘You’ll be wrecking three lives if you marry him.’ Ewen’s eyes clashed with hers. ‘No man deserves a wife in love with someone else.’
‘But I’m not—’
‘You are!’ he said, with such controlled violence, Rosanna recoiled.
‘Ewen, please. Don’t do this to me.’
‘You mean you want a day’s grace to work out more arguments to bring up tomorrow—that’s if you’re coming tomorrow, of course,’ he added, eyeing her challengingly.
For a split second Rosanna was tempted to tell him she wasn’t, tomorrow or any other day. It was exactly what she ought to do. But if she was going to Boston to see David she needed the rest of the money Ewen was paying her.
‘I’ll be there,’ she said wearily.
His smile was triumphant. ‘Good. I thought perhaps you might be afraid to work for me any more.’
‘Why?’
‘In case I go ape and try to force you into my bed again,’ he said flippantly.
‘I doubt that. After all, you didn’t force me last night,’ she said, and regretted it instantly at the look in Ewen’s eyes.
He breathed in deeply. ‘Do you think I need reminding? But don’t worry, Rosanna. I take what’s freely given, or nothing.’
‘Please go,’ she said desperately. ‘My parents will be out here in a minute.’
‘Don’t look like that!’ Ewen took her by the shoulders, bent his head and kissed her quivering mouth with a tenderness which cut her to pieces. ‘All right, Rosanna, relax. I’m going. See you tomorrow.’
Ewen released her with undisguised reluctance, and Rosanna turned away blindly and began hunting in her bag for her key. Before she could find it the front door swung open, and Rosanna looked up with a bright smile intended for her mother, then froze, staring transfixed at the spectacularly handsome young giant who stood grinning at her sheepishly, his blond hair falling over his tanned forehead. For a split second all three of them were motionless, like a tableau of ice sculptures, then Rosanna came to life.
‘David!’
‘Hi, Rosie.’ He came bounding down the steps to give her a bear hug. ‘Surprise, surprise. I went round to the flat, but no luck, so I came on here.’
At the look on Ewen’s stony face Rosanna wished fervently that she could beam herself up to another planet. ‘Why on earth didn’t you let me know you were coming, David?’ she demanded, then recollected herself hurriedly. ‘This is Ewen Fraser, the author I’ve been working for. Ewen, this is David Norton.’
Rosanna, her head aching badly by this time, felt as if she were in the middle of a bad dream as the two men shook hands. They couldn’t have been more different. Ewen was slimly built and lean, and although almost six feet tall he looked small in comparison to David Norton, who was half a head taller and built like an American football quarterback.
‘I’ve heard a lot about you,’ said Ewen smoothly, ‘but I’m sure you both have a lot to catch up on so I’ll take myself off.’
‘Is that your Morgan?’ said David eagerly, but Rosanna, knowing him of old, put a swift damper on any car-worship sessions.
‘Goodbye, then, Ewen,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ll see you in the morning. Thank you for driving me.’
‘My pleasure.’ Ewen nodded courteously at David. ‘Very glad to have met you, Doctor. Goodbye, Rosanna.’
CHAPTER TEN
ROSANNA arrived very late in Chelsea next morning, and found Ewen’s cleaner waiting to give her a letter from Ewen and a spare key.
Rosanna apologised for holding her up, but she knew that Ewen was out without being told. The house felt different. Empty. After Mrs Barker had taken herself off to her next job Rosanna stared for a long time at the letter, afraid to open it. When she did at last the contrast with his previous letters was painful.
Rosanna, it’s best I work at the cottage from now on. I’l
l post the disks to you, and you can mail the draft pages back to me every day or two. Or you can finish right now, of course. It’s up to you.
I apologise for taking advantage of the situation at the cottage, and for haranguing you so relentlessly on the journey home. Not having met with it before, I found rejection hard to take without a fight. Since then the situation has changed. Now I’ve met young Dr Norton in the spectacular flesh your reasons for preferring him to me are depressingly obvious. But take my advice, Rosanna; keep our lapse from grace to yourself.
If you intend going to the States immediately, let me know so that I can pay you what’s owing. Ewen.
Rosanna sat down very carefully in her chair, staring blankly at the typewritten note. Had this actually been written by the man who’d made such passionate, heart-stopping love to her? It was a long time before she roused herself to make some coffee. When it was ready she gulped some down quickly, hoping the caffeine would stiffen her resolve, then dialled Ewen’s number at the cottage.
At his curt bark of response she almost put the phone down.
‘It’s Rosanna,’ she announced, brusque in her effort to keep her voice steady.
‘Yes?’
‘I’ve only just read your letter.’
‘Then you arrived late this morning. Though in the circumstances,’ he added abrasively, ‘I suppose I should be grateful you came in at all.’
‘I had a headache.’
‘Hangover?’
‘Certainly not.’ She braced herself. ‘Look, Ewen, I’d really like to carry on working until my part of the book is finished.’
The Temptation Trap Page 11
