by Anne Mather
Now Carne was drawing her closer, his hands sliding possessively over her hips, his eyes narrowed to a sensual awareness. She could feel the heaving throbbing of his heart against her breast, and sensed the urgent message of his body.
Yet her own duplicity weighed heavily inside her. It was incredible to believe that Carne had not stopped loving her, but how much of this confession would she have heard if he had not thought she was pregnant again? Was this only to reassure her? Could he be lying? And how was she ever to know?
‘Lesley …’ He said her name against her ear, his breath warm and disturbing in that small orifice. ‘Lesley, I’m sorry if you resent the way I’ve behaved, I’m sorry if you don’t want another baby, but there seemed no other way to get you back.’
Her reply was silenced by the pressure of his mouth. His parted lips took possession of hers, his tongue stroking their sensitive outline, awakening the ready response inside her. She had no will to resist the intoxicating hardness of his body that knew hers in so many different ways, no will to prevent the arched yielding to his masculinity that invited possession of an entirely different kind. How could she have lived so long without the demanding passion of his kiss, she wondered dazedly, without the sweet sensuality of his love?
With a little cry, she wound her arms around his neck, pushing her fingers through the smooth thickness of his hair, uncaring for the moment as she pressed herself against him that there were still things to explain between them, uncaring of anything but the pulsating power of the emotion that gripped them.
‘Lesley,’ he said at last, hoarsely. ‘Lesley, don’t make me lose all control or I’ll take you here—now—just as we are!’ His eyes were dark and tormented. ‘There are still things that need to be said.’
‘I know.’ His words were sobering and she drew back sufficiently to run a smoothing hand over her own tumbled hair, to examine the unbuttoned provocation of her shirt. ‘Carne, I have something to tell you, too. I didn’t come here because—because I was pregnant. Mary—Mary teleph—–’
His hands tightened on the smooth skin at her waist, his eyes still glazed with emotion. ‘Did Mary tell you that I asked her to ring?’ he asked thickly. ‘Did she tell you that?’
‘No!’ For a moment Lesley was too confused to continue. ‘You asked Mary to ring?’
‘Yes.’ He bent his head to touch her throat with his lips, and their heat sent a wave of colour sweeping over her skin. ‘You don’t really think Mary has left, do you? After all these years?’ He shook his head. ‘No, we planned it between us. You had asked her to ring if Jeremy wasn’t happy. For unhappy read unwell, and there you have it.’
‘But she didn’t ring until two days ago!’ Lesley protested and he brushed her cheek with his tongue.
‘We didn’t want to upset you. Jeremy was pretty sick to begin with, but once he began to get better …’
‘But why didn’t you just ask me to come back?’
‘Would you have come?’ His eyes narrowed disbelievingly. ‘I asked you to stay, remember? But you turned me down.’
‘That—that was for a dinner party …’
‘You think my needing you would have been a sufficient inducement?’ He shook his head again. ‘I needed you—I always needed you—but I had always believed you wanted your freedom. I had Mary telephone you because I hoped once you heard the boy was sick that you would come, for his sake if for no other. Time was slipping away. I knew if the holidays were over and Jeremy returned to London, I might never have another chance. I could never have asked you to stay …’
‘But you’re asking me now,’ she breathed huskily, and his lips probed the pointed fullness of her breast.
‘Yes,’ he agreed honestly, but there was unspoken uncertainty in his eyes as he lifted his head. ‘But only because …’ He broke off. ‘Is it selfish of me, Lesley? Am I too possessive? Is it too much to hope that given a second chance, you might learn to enjoy living here? Or will what I’ve done always stand between us?’
Lesley couldn’t take any more. With a muffled exclamation she fled out of the house and across the stableyard, not stopping until she reached the Mini, sitting in a pool of mud. The rain had washed manure across the yard, and she slipped and slid as she sought to climb behind the wheel. That she succeeded at all was due more to rugged determination than expertise, and turning the ignition, she fired the engine and reversed away.
The car lurched a little, and then steadied beneath her hands as she drove blindly down the track towards the road. The persistent rain lashed at the windscreen, but she was not cold. On the contrary, she was sweating, but it was as much with apprehension as anything. What Carne must be thinking if her, what interpretation he might put on her behaviour she could only guess, and her head ached from the strain of trying to escape the inevitable torment of her thoughts. All her life, she had been running away from one thing or another, she thought bitterly, and Carne would never forgive her for making a fool of him all over again.
She was still some distance from the cattle grid when the Landrover suddenly crashed through the hedge in front of her, causing her to swerve violently and jam on her brakes. For a moment, she couldn’t understand what was happening, but then Carne swung down from the four-wheeled vehicle and she knew her running days were over. At least, for the time being. He strode across to the Mini and wrenched open the door, hauling her out with all the care and consideration of a gorilla, and when she tried to recover her breath, he put his face close to hers and said:
‘For God’s sake, Lesley! Are you trying to kill yourself?’
‘I—I thought you were trying to—to do that!’ she stammered, unable to summon any words of anger or explanation, and with a savage oath he flung her towards the Landrover.
‘Get in!’ he said. ‘We’re going somewhere where we can talk, without interruption.’
The rugged journey across the fields to Bowland’s Dam was accomplished in absolute silence, Lesley desperately trying to voice the words of explanation which would not come. Crazy thoughts went round her head, thoughts like letting him go on believing she was pregnant and hoping it would become a reality, thoughts like telling him she had never cared about her career except when she needed a bolt-hole to crawl into.
The dam had, as Carne had told her weeks before, been built up to form a quasi-natural pool, fed from moorland springs, whose water was icy cold. In spite of the rain, Lesley jumped down from the Landrover as soon as Carne stopped the engine, and walked quickly to the edge of the pool, looking down mutely into its lucid depths.
‘Now …’ Carne had come up behind her, and as the rain wet his shirt, it moulded the muscles of his shoulders more closely. ‘If this is private enough for you, tell me why you rushed out of the house like a mad thing when I asked you to stay? Was I wrong? Does being pregnant mean nothing to you? Do you still want your freedom?’
Lesley wrapped her arms about herself, and refused to look at him. ‘No. Yes. And no,’ she said tensely, and sensed his silent imprecation.
‘Lesley—–’
‘All right.’ She swung round to face him, the rain pouring down her face, mingling with the tears that came so readily from her eyes. She was conscious of the bedraggled picture she must present, and thought how fitting it was that she should be the one to suffer in this way. ‘All right,’ she said again, holding up her head. ‘The truth is—I’m not pregnant. Do you hear me? I’m not going to have a baby.’
Carne’s face was as cold and still as if it was carved from stone. ‘You’re not?’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘But—–’ His brows drew together. ‘You told Marion—’
‘Oh, yes, yes, I told Marion I was. What else was I supposed to do? Let her go on telling me how useless I was? How inefficient? How inadequate? Having her tell me that you didn’t care about me, that you never cared about me? Disbelieving me when I told her we’d spent a night together! Well, she believes me now. You convinced her of that!’
&
nbsp; A little of the chill had left his face as he listened to this tirade. ‘What are you saying? Why should it matter to you what Marion believes?’
‘Oh, you know! You know!’ she cried imploringly. ‘I love you! I’ve always loved you. Only, like you, I was too proud to beg!’
‘Lesley …’
The throbbing timbre of his voice drove her into his arms, uncaring that they were wet, uncaring of the rain, uncaring of anything but their mutual need of one another.
‘God, I was afraid,’ he muttered, burying his face in the warm hollow of her throat. ‘I knew you could get a divorce any time you wanted, and I was sure that was what you wanted.’
Lesley’s laugh was half sob. ‘Then we’ve both been fools, haven’t we?’ she breathed. ‘I—are you very disappointed—about the baby?’
‘Disappointed? Now?’ He shook his head, cupping her face with his hands. ‘Does this mean you’re staying? Despite everything?’
‘Try and drive me away!’
‘I wouldn’t do that,’ he muttered. ‘And I’ll take damn good care no one else does either.’
‘Your mother,’ she breathed. ‘What will she say?’
‘A lot, I expect,’ he admitted wryly. ‘But we’ve been fighting over you for years. She might just decide to give in.’
‘I doubt it.’ Lesley was philosophical. ‘But Jeremy will be delighted. I have the feeling I’d have split him down the middle if I’d tried to take him away from here.’
‘What about school?’ Carne quirked an eyebrow at her and Lesley smiled.
‘Leaving Taunton won’t worry Jeremy. He wasn’t happy there.’
‘I know. He told me. He also told me why I’d been elevated to the role of pilot.’
Lesley stroked his lips with her fingers. ‘Where did you go to school?’
‘The local grammar,’ he told her, half apologetically, and she laughed.
‘Then I’m sure Jeremy will be happy there, too.’ She frowned. ‘You haven’t told me why Mary pretended to leave.’
‘Oh, that.’ Carne grinned. ‘I hoped that finding Marion here would tip the balance, one way or the other. It was a calculated risk.’
Lesley absorbed this, and then she said: ‘Mary said there were rows between you and your mother after—after I walked out. Before your mother had her accident.’
‘Before and after,’ said Carne dryly. ‘Although for a time my hands were tied. She was quite ill for a while.’
‘Mary also said that—that Marion married Aaron Bowland out of—of pique. Why did she say that?’
Carne’s lean features darkened with colour. ‘Mary seems to have said an awful lot in a short time, doesn’t she?’ He sighed. ‘Well, it may be true, but I doubt it. It is true that after you left, she began to make quite a nuisance of herself. I had to—well, tell her how it was.’
‘And how was it?’ breathed Lesley, putting her hands on his forearms, and reaching up to his mouth.
‘How it’s always been,’ he muttered, and then with a groan, he drew her down on to the rain-sodden turf and covered her body with his own. ‘This is madness, do you know that?’ he demanded, as the prickling blades of grass stroked her bare midriff with sensuous softness. ‘We’ll very likely catch pneumonia!’
‘Lance said if I didn’t get back by Wednesday, I was out of a job anyway,’ she whispered softly. ‘I won’t be back by Wednesday, will I, darling …?’
ISBN: 978-1-472-09728-6
PROUD HARVEST
© 1978 Anne Mather
Published in Great Britain 2014
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited
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