The Ultimate Surrender

by Penny Jordan

  ‘It looks wonderful,’ Polly told him. ‘Wonderful but very expensive,’ she added ruefully, giving Marcus an uncertain look before adding, ‘We’d have to take out a bank loan to finance it, and I’m not sure…’

  ‘We’d need to get the plans passed first,’ Marcus reminded her. ‘We agreed that this was going to be a long-term project when we first discussed it.’

  ‘I’ve got your plans here for this house, Marcus.’ Neil interrupted the sharply antagonistic silence that ensued.

  Polly longed to be able to leave, but she and Marcus had already arranged to hold a meeting to discuss the finances of the hotel after Neil had left, and for that reason she felt obliged to stay.

  It was plain to Polly that Marcus was sparing no expense on the house. But then why should he? He was, as she already knew, comfortably well off and he earned a very good salary—Marcus’s mother had come from a wealthy family and it was via her that Marcus had inherited some family money. Richard’s parents, on the other hand, who were now retired and living in Cheltenham, had only Richard’s father’s army pension to live on.

  Not that she envied Marcus his wealth, not for one minute. The hotel provided her not just with a beautiful home but with a comfortable living as well, and once Briony had finished college she would be even better off. Not that she had needed to finance her daughter’s education—Marcus had made it clear that he was more than willing to do so—but Polly had refused to let him. She had her pride, after all—which reminded her: she would have to find out from Briony first how much Marcus had spent on that dress, because she fully intended to repay him.

  Neil and Marcus had finished talking now and Neil was getting ready to leave.

  ‘I’ll be in touch about the new bedrooms,’ he told Polly. ‘When do you think the work will be able to start?’

  ‘That’s really up to Marcus,’ Polly told him, ‘but if it could be finished for Christmas—’

  ‘Christmas?’ Neil’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You’ll be lucky…’

  ‘Well, in that case it will have to be put off until the new year.’

  That sounds more like it,’ Neil said, then thanked them both and took his leave.

  ‘Despite the fact that we’ve virtually been fully booked all year and our profits are holding steady, our actual profit margins have dropped,’ Marcus pointed out to Polly after he had finished going through the books.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Polly agreed, adding when he continued to look at her, ‘The cost of food alone has increased, Marcus.’ She spread her hands and gave a small shrug. ‘Then there’s the heating, electricity, gas, water, the—’

  ‘Suzi tells me that at Gifford’s Cay they ration the guests’ bath and shower water, charging an excess to those who use more…’

  ‘Maybe, but England isn’t the Caribbean,’ Polly pointed out sharply. ‘And after a wet summer I doubt that our guests would be very impressed to be told that they can’t have a bath unless they pay extra for it. And, of course, you’re forgetting that the guests at Gifford’s Cay have the extra facility of three swimming pools,’ she couldn’t resist adding sarcastically.

  ‘We do our best to keep costs down and profit margins up, Marcus,’ she continued crisply. ‘But our guests expect a certain standard of comfort and if we start cutting corners…’

  ‘I understand what you’re saying,’ Marcus agreed. ‘But our tariff hasn’t increased this year…’

  ‘Not this year,’ Polly was quick to respond. ‘But we did increase it last year and I was going to ask you what you thought about us increasing it next year. I think our guests will accept an increase in costs more readily if they don’t feel that it’s something they have to expect regularly every year.’

  ‘Do you? Or is this just an idea you’ve come up with after consulting Phil Bernstein?’ Marcus asked her acidly.

  ‘I don’t need Phil’s help in making decisions about what’s best for Fraser House, even if you seem to need Suzi’s,’ Polly told him recklessly.

  There was a long pause that positively bristled with the anger they were generating towards one another before Marcus responded silkily, ‘Of course, how foolish of me. It isn’t Bernstein’s professional expertise you want at all, is it?’

  Polly drew in her breath, warning herself not to let her fury get the better of her. This wasn’t the time or the place to become involved in a full-scale no-holds-barred fight with Marcus, even if she was inwardly itching to retaliate to what she knew was a deliberately provocative and hurtful gibe.

  ‘What I want is absolutely and totally no business of yours,’ was all she allowed herself to say once she was able to speak past the lump of fury lodged in her throat.

  ‘In one sense perhaps not. But in another…’ Marcus paused and then told her flatly, ‘We are, after all, business partners, and when your personal behaviour could potentially affect our shared business interests…Suzi was telling me that Bernstein has quite a reputation. And you do realise, don’t you, that he’s—’

  Polly had had enough.

  ‘That he’s what?’ she interrupted him angrily. ‘That he’s younger than me? Yes, I do realise that, Marcus, but it isn’t exactly unheard of these days for a woman to…Anyway,’ she continued hastily, ‘I could point out to you that Suzi is younger than Phil and you are older than me, but of course that doesn’t matter, does it?’ she flung sarcastically at him.

  ‘What is it that’s the big attraction, Polly?’ Marcus demanded, cutting across what she was saying. ‘What exactly is it that he’s got that—’

  Abruptly he stopped speaking and then began again curtly. ‘Have you considered how Briony’s going to feel if you become involved with him?’

  ‘How Briony feels is for her to discuss with me,’ Polly responded passionately, biting her lip, reluctantly aware that Briony herself probably did consider Marcus to be as close to her as the father she had lost, honesty compelling her not to accuse Marcus of laying claim to a position in Briony’s affections which he did not have when she knew very well that he did.

  ‘Well, if you’re intent on making a fool of yourself…’ Marcus told her savagely. ‘According to Suzi he’s a womaniser who—’

  Making a fool of herself? Polly saw red. ‘If responding to a man’s very flattering appreciation of me as a woman is making a fool of myself,’ she exploded.

  ‘So you are interested in him,’ Marcus stated flatly. His eyes were hard and black as he told her cruelly, ‘I suppose it’s to be expected in a woman reaching that “certain age” of her life when she feels that her youth is over…’

  Polly gave an outraged gasp, shocked by the unexpectedness of an attack which was so out of character. Marcus was normally far more subtle, far more urbane. Something or someone must really have rattled him to make him speak with such open aggression—unless his antipathy towards Phil was on Suzi’s behalf. They had, as Briony had mentioned, apparently been more than merely employer and employee at one stage. It crossed Polly’s mind that in many ways the two of them would be quite well suited. Perhaps Marcus thought so as well and was jealous. Even so—

  ‘How dare you imply…?’ she began breathlessly, and then stopped as she tried to find the right words to deny his implications without descending to his own level of insult. Taking a deep breath, she told him quietly, ‘Contrary to what you seem to imagine Marcus, a woman of thirty-seven is neither past it nor desperate to use the same crude analogy you seem to prefer.’

  ‘No?’ he asked harshly. ‘Then why the sudden hurry to crawl into Bernstein’s bed when, so far as I’m aware, you’ve spent the last fourteen years since Richard’s death keeping out of any man’s, but specifically—’

  ‘So far as you are aware,’ Polly cut in quickly, her head lifting proudly as she dared him to contradict her. ‘You don’t know everything there is to know about me, Marcus, and just because…’ She stopped and bit her lip, not wanting to lie but determined not to let him guess that he was right in thinking that she had remained celibate
since Richard’s death.

  ‘You’ve always claimed that no man could replace Richard in your life,’ he reminded her flatly.

  ‘No more could they,’ Polly agreed, unaware of the quicksand she had marched into until Marcus questioned softly,

  ‘Not in your life, then, but perhaps it’s a different matter when it comes to your bed—is that what you’re trying to say?’

  Polly stared at him. She had meant to say no such thing but she could feel herself sinking so fast into the dangerously unstable ground beneath her feet that she was too unnerved to know how to save herself.

  ‘You should have told me this before,’ Marcus continued silkily. ‘If I’d known that sexual frustration was such a problem for you I might have done this much sooner…’

  And then, before Polly could guess what was going to happen, Marcus had crossed the small distance that separated them. She backed away from him, gasping in shock as she felt the wall against her back. Instinctively she put up her hands to ward Marcus off, but, ignoring them, he replaced his own hands at either side of her on the wall, his body so close to hers that if she hadn’t quickly dropped her arms her palms would have been flat against his chest.

  ‘That’s better,’ Marcus told her savagely. ‘After all, we both know that this is what you want, don’t we? You told me so yourself…’

  ‘No!’ Polly protested. She couldn’t believe this was happening, that he was behaving like this. Not Marcus of all people. Marcus whom she—

  It was too late; his body was already touching hers whilst his hands closed on her shoulders and his mouth came down on her own with a hard determination that made her whole body start to tremble.

  ‘No!’ she whispered again under her breath, but her eyes were already starting to close, her body going soft and malleable beneath his touch…beneath him.

  Behind her closed eyelids she could feel the searing pain of her own hot, shaming tears.

  Why? Why had this to happen? Why now…why, after all these years of forcing herself not to think, not to imagine, not to dare to dream—?

  She was trembling violently and openly now, and she prayed as she had never prayed before that only she would know the reason for the frantic tremors that were racing through her, and that only she would know that her reaction to his remorseless determination to punish her was not because she was afraid or angry but because—

  ‘How many men have touched you like this…kissed you like this since Richard?’ Marcus asked her thickly as his hands swept down the length of her arms to hold her whilst the hard pressure of his body leaning into hers made her shockingly aware of the physical effect their intimacy was having on him.

  Men were so different from women, so easily and strongly aroused by the sensuality of physical contact, not needing any emotional input. Whereas she…

  ‘Open your mouth. Kiss me properly,’ Marcus demanded rawly against her lips.

  Oh, God, please let me be able to resist, to prevent him from guessing—knowing.

  ‘Marcus…’ She started to protest, but it was no use; the moment her lips parted his were covering them, devouring them…devouring her.

  Polly could feel the resistance draining out of her body.

  ‘Marcus…’

  As she breathed his name her hands lifted to his arms, her fingers curling round them, digging into the hard muscles. She could feel the frantic thud of her heart—or was it his? It seemed to beat into her body in a rhythm that…

  Stop it. Stop it! she warned herself shakily as her mind tortured her with all sorts of dangerous images.

  Marcus’s hands were on her breasts now, shaping them, covering them, his thumbs rubbing against her hardening nipples.

  She made a small sound beneath her breath and his fingers worked her breast free of the covering of her bra through her top.

  As his tongue thrust between her lips Polly gave a small stifled moan of pleasure and tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. He pulled her, taking hold of her shoulders again and imprisoning her tightly against his body whilst he changed their position so that he was the one leaning against the wall whilst she was cradled between his splayed legs…

  Oh, God, she couldn’t cope with this…not now…not ever…no way…She could feel his hard arousal even before his hands slid down her body to pull her even more tightly into his own; another second and he would be…they would be…

  Distantly Polly was aware of a ringing noise that seemed to go on and on, then abruptly Marcus was releasing her mouth, and then her body, cursing as he did so.

  Too shaken and shocked to do or say anything, Polly simply stood where she was, white-faced, paralysed almost.

  ‘That’s the doorbell; it will probably be Suzi,’ Marcus told her tersely. ‘She wanted to see the house.’

  Blank-eyed, Polly tried to speak, but found she couldn’t. Her body felt heavy and awkward; even breathing required concentration and effort. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Marcus. She couldn’t bear to do so…

  As he walked towards the door she looked across the desk to where she had left her bag and her coat. Such mundane articles, so much a part of her equally mundane and ordinary life, but now she was looking at them as though she had never seen them before. Shakily she walked towards them and picked them up. She could hear Marcus walking down the hallway. Her brain was urging her to move more quickly, to escape, to get away before Suzi came in.

  Frantically she reached for her things, her hands trembling so much that it took her three attempts before she could pick them up properly. There was a pair of French windows in the room she was in. Blindly she tugged the bolts, managing to wrench them open and breaking a nail in the process as she stumbled thankfully into the fresh air and headed unsteadily for her car.

  Let Marcus make whatever he wanted to make of her unceremonious departure, she thought as she drove away. She imagined that her continued presence would only have been embarrassing to him with Suzi there, unless he actually enjoyed the thought of having two women in his home, both of whom he…

  Shuddering, Polly brought her car to a halt at the roadside and forced herself to take several deep, calming breaths.

  What on earth was she doing risking everything she had striven so hard to achieve these last years? Bitterly she closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry.

  She could still taste Marcus on her lips, smell him on her skin, feel the raw urgency of his sexuality and the heat of his anger.

  His anger…That was what had motivated him, driven him to behave so…so shockingly towards her, but her motivation was…

  Tears burned the back of her eyeballs, sharp as acid, painful as splinters of glass in her heart and just as fatal…like her feelings…

  Her feelings? She couldn’t remember exactly how long it had been after Richard’s death before she had recognised her feelings towards him and her oddly out-of-character behaviour when she was with him for what they were—just as she didn’t know…didn’t remember when she had recognised that love could be pain when it was the wrong kind of love for the wrong man.

  Her heart had started to beat heavily with anguish and she squeezed her eyes closed to force back her unwanted tears. Loving Marcus had been a fact of her life for so long that she had thought she had come to terms with it, but seeing him with Suzi, listening to Briony whilst she extolled the other girl’s virtues, her suitability to become Marcus’s wife and the mother of his children, had stripped back the pretence she had cocooned herself in and left her raw and bleeding with the pain of her love.

  And for Marcus to have taunted her in the way that he had only made his indifference to her as a woman more plain. But why was he so angry? Because he was afraid she was going to make a fool of herself over Phil and he thought that might reflect badly on him?

  Well, better by far that he should think her capable of making a fool of herself over Phil than that he should guess the truth.

  Her heart started to beat even faster. But what if she had somehow
betrayed herself to him just now in his arms? What if he had begun to suspect that it was him she…? But no, he mustn’t be allowed to guess. She didn’t think she could bear the humiliation of that. She knew she could not bear the humiliation of it, otherwise why would she have been so painstakingly careful all these long years to keep him at a distance?

  She could not pinpoint exactly when she had looked at Marcus and known as a woman did know such things that her feelings for him were far too powerful, far too strong, far too intimate for the kind of relationship they shared.

  Only she would know just how many times she had watched him in secret whilst he played with Briony and longed for him to give her a second child; to hold her, kiss her, possess her. The love she felt for him far, far outstripped the gentle warmth she had known for Richard. That had been a girl’s virginal emotion. What she felt for Marcus was…

  She opened her eyes, her face white with strain. If he had chosen to, right there and then he could have…She swallowed painfully, her body shaking as though she were having a seizure as it told her how much it ached for the fullness of his possession, the completeness of it. She was thirty-seven, for heaven’s sake, she reminded herself fiercely. She was thirty-seven and a woman in her sexual prime, longing for, aching for the man she loved so much…

  A ripple of sensation gripped her body causing her to tense against it and hold her breath.

  What was happening to her? Perhaps Marcus was right after all, perhaps she was going through some sort of crisis. Just thinking about him with Suzi, with anyone else, made her feel so…

  Stifling a sharply indrawn breath of pain she gritted her teeth and restarted the car. She had had many years to get used to the way she felt about Marcus. To get used to loving him whilst knowing that her love, her longing, her need could never be answered. So why now was she suddenly feeling this swamping frightening sensation of aching loss?

  Carefully putting the car in gear, she started to drive back to the hotel.

  The phone was ringing as Polly hurried into her office. It had been a hectic day altogether. She had been up early to see Briony off, the last of their weekend guests had finally left and now she was looking forward to a few days of peace and quiet before the next weekend’s influx began.