Diamond Fire

by Anne Mather

  Yet when she thought of confronting Alex she did feel a sense of chill. Perhaps not physically, but certainly mentally, her brain in a turmoil as she struggled to come to terms with what she must do. Mama Lu was right: she had to tell Alex that she had seen Virginia. But why she hadn’t told him immediately was something he was bound to want an answer to, and she didn’t have one.

  Not that Mama Lu knew she had seen Virginia, of course. In spite of appearing to know what Camilla had been doing, even the housekeeper had backed down in the face of Camilla’s defiance. She might suspect that her absence had not been entirely innocent, but even she didn’t believe that Virginia might have come out of hiding to find her.

  Which left Camilla in the invidious position of either keeping her meeting with Virginia a secret—an option she couldn’t honestly justify, if she cared anything for the child’s safety; or she could tell Alex what had happened—and risk his suspecting that she had known all about the meeting before she had insisted on being brought into Honolulu.

  Of course, there was one other alternative. She could just take the next plane out of here—in any direction—and leave the Contis to sort out their own troubles. After all, now that Virginia had told her that Grant Blaisdell was involved it would be difficult to tell Alex anything without implicating his cousin. And how could she do that? She had no proof. And there was always the possibility that Virginia might be lying. She’d done it before, heaven knew!

  She glanced at her watch. It was half-past six, and Alex wasn’t home yet. She wondered if he was intending to spend another night in town. He could be. After what had happened between them that morning, it wouldn’t surprise her if he took up permanent residence at his parents’ house. And what was she going to do if he did? Wait until tomorrow before making any decision either way?

  The sound of a car broke into her thoughts. She could hear the crunching of its tyres on the gravel, and the low hum of its engine. It had to be Alex, she thought, her mouth drying. Dear God, what was she going to do? Time was running out.

  She couldn’t sit on her balcony any longer. She couldn’t go on pretending there was any escape from what she had to do. Virginia might be Maria’s mother, but she was in no fit state to look after her at present. Alex had to be told she had seen her. He had to know what Virginia had asked her to do.

  She was standing in front of the dressing-table, applying a cooling moisturiser to her cheeks, when there was a knock at her door. Her hands were already shaking as they smoothed the cream on to her skin, and the heavy-handed summons almost made her drop the jar.

  ‘Yes,’ she called, deciding the navy blue teddy was every bit as decent as the bikini she had worn the day before. ‘Come…come in, Mama Lu. Does…does Mr Conti want to see me?’

  ‘Yes. He does,’ declared Alex as the door was thrust open and he stepped into the room. His eyes raked her startled figure, darkening as they rested on the high breasts and slim hips outlined by the silk undergarment. Then he lifted his shoulders, as if justifying his intrusion. ‘D’you want to put on a robe?’ he suggested. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CAMILLA snatched up the white bathrobe she had worn after her shower, her face a scarlet beacon above the terry towelling. Alex was the last person she had expected to walk into her room, and combined with her embarrassment was a not unnatural feeling of resentment that he should think he could barge into her apartments without even announcing his intentions.

  The bathrobe was damp, and it clung unpleasantly to her skin. But, short of asking him to leave until she had put on some clothes, she didn’t have an alternative. Besides, his expression didn’t encourage her to attempt to avoid this encounter.

  ‘Something to tell me?’ she ventured at last, hoping her voice didn’t sound as anxious to his ears as it did to her own. ‘About…about Virginia?’

  ‘What else?’

  Alex closed the door, and the sound it made as he did so echoed ominously round the room. It reminded Camilla of her own vulnerability where this man was concerned; reminded her that she had fewer friends on the island than Virginia did herself.

  Alex was still wearing his business suit, but now he thrust his hands into his trouser pockets, spreading the jacket wide and drawing the cloth taut across his muscled thighs. Camilla found herself wondering if his legs were as darkly tanned as the parts of his body she could see, and quickly stifled the thought. For God’s sake, this was not the time to entertain such trivialities, she told herself. She must concentrate on what was important. Virginia’s whereabouts for starters.

  For all the aggressive way he had entered her room, Alex now seemed in no hurry to get to the point. On the contrary, much to Camilla’s discomfort, he appeared quite content to assess her reactions to him, and she was sure he had sensed her instinctive unease.

  Then, as if growing tired of the game, he pulled an envelope out of his pocket, and tapped it against his palm. ‘Do you know what this is?’

  Camilla frowned. ‘No.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘Well, it looks like a letter,’ she volunteered defensively. ‘Is…is it from Virginia?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’

  ‘No.’

  Alex looked down at the letter, then up at her, his dark eyes narrowed and intent. ‘You’ve never seen this envelope before?’

  ‘No.’ Camilla swallowed. ‘Is it from Virginia? For heaven’s sake, what does it say?’

  Alex hesitated. Then he tossed the envelope on to the dressing-table beside her. ‘Read it,’ he said abruptly. ‘It’s typewritten, but the signature’s Virginia’s.’

  Camilla ignored the letter. ‘I…I’d rather you told me what’s in it,’ she said, unwilling to reveal how her hands were shaking. She was already under suspicion apparently. He wouldn’t understand that her nervousness came as much from an awareness of him as from any threat the letter might hold.

  Alex stared at her for a long minute, and then he came to pick up the letter again, flicking open the envelope and extracting the single sheet of paper it contained. ‘You were right,’ he said as Camilla stared at him uncomprehendingly. ‘Virginia does want a divorce. If I want to see Maria again I have to agree to her terms.’

  Camilla hadn’t been aware of holding her breath until the air rushed out of her lungs with a noisy whoosh. But the freedom of knowing exactly what Virginia did want was such a relief, and she couldn’t understand why Alex still looked so strange.

  ‘Well,’ she said, smoothing the palms of her hands down the sides of the bathrobe, ‘that’s good news, isn’t it? I mean—now that you know what she wants you can make a deal.’

  ‘Can I?’ Alex regarded her speculatively, and she realised that by making him come and pick up the letter she had inadvertently narrowed the space between them. ‘I notice you don’t ask what she wants. Is that because you already know?’

  ‘Me?’ Camilla was staggered. ‘How could I know?’ But her colour was still high, and she was sure he didn’t believe her.

  ‘Do you know how I got this letter?’ Alex enquired smoothly, and she moved her head in a jerky negative motion. ‘It was handed to the receptionist in the Conti building. By a child. A child who said the letter had been given to him by a lady.’

  Camilla tried to sound offhand. ‘So?’

  ‘So…the woman who handed him the letter could have been you.’

  Camilla gasped. ‘That’s ridiculous!’

  ‘Is it?’ Alex was studying her expressive face with raw intensity. ‘If I add to that the fact that the woman was also wearing a black veil, will you see my dilemma?’

  Camilla took a deep breath. ‘Why would I wear a…a black veil?’

  Alex moved then. With a speed that left her no time to offer any resistance, he lunged towards her, gripping her shoulders and forcing her to look at herself in the mirror. ‘Now, do I have to give you a reason?’ he snarled, as her hair, still loose from her shower, spilled its brilliance about her shoulders.
‘Why else would anyone want to wear a veil to hide their face from a stranger?’ he demanded contemptuously. ‘Unless they were afraid even a child would remember such a distinctive characteristic!’

  ‘No. No, it wasn’t me!’ Camilla moved her head from side to side, unaware that, as she did so, its silky texture was caressing his face. Her paramount concern was to make him believe her, and there was no longer any doubt in her mind about what she had to do. ‘It wasn’t me,’ she repeated, her voice barely audible. ‘I had nothing to do with it. If…if you’ll let me go I’ll tell you…’

  But Alex wasn’t listening to her. In reaching for her as he had, in grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to look in the mirror, the hastily tied belt of the bathrobe had loosened. As she had struggled to protest her innocence, the two sides of the robe had fallen free, exposing the seductive teddy, and the delicate skin beneath.

  Her stomach quivered as she realised how the reflection of her body had distracted him. The trembling muscles were almost concave as she stiffened in his grasp. But the action only served to heighten the upward thrust of her breasts, and the creamy skin swelled enticingly above the lacy trim of the basque.

  ‘Alex—’ she choked, but her use of his name fell on deaf ears. And it was hardly a denial when she was making no effort to free herself from his bruising grasp. On the contrary, when his blazing eyes moved down over the lissom curves of her body they ignited a flame inside her that carried to every shuddering extremity.

  She knew she should have dragged the folds of the bathrobe about her, but she didn’t. She knew she should have pulled away from him, but she didn’t do that either. And when the hands on her arms lifted to hook the robe off her shoulders, and allowed it to fall in a heap about her ankles, she knew it was too late to think about resisting him.

  Even so, she was not prepared for the deluge of feeling that gripped her when his hands slid from her shoulders to the rigid curve of her ribcage. His thumbs only brushed the undersides of her breasts as they moved down over the sensitive narrowing at her waist, to the proud swell of her hips, but everywhere he touched the skin responded alarmingly. Indeed, it took an actual physical effort to prevent herself from covering his hands with her own, and when they spread against her palpitating stomach she shook uncontrollably.

  ‘So soft,’ he breathed, and the draught of air against her throat brought her eyes up to his. While her gaze had been riveted by the downward sweep of his hands he had bent his head, and now his tongue moved sensuously against her neck.

  But his eyes held hers, and, realising this was her last chance to try to appeal to his conscience, if not her own, she took a trembling breath. ‘We…we…can’t,’ she got out unsteadily, but Alex was indifferent to her pleas.

  ‘Why not?’ he demanded, his teeth nipping the tender flesh and leaving reddened circles against her skin. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t want it just as much as I do.’

  ‘That…that’s not the point…’ she stammered, but he didn’t let her go.

  On the contrary,’ he contradicted harshly, ‘it’s the only point to any of this,’ and, twisting her round in his arms, he brought his mouth to hers.

  Camilla’s senses swam at the first touch of his lips. She had hung on to a faint hope that she might be able to control the extent of her response to him, but she was wrong. The hungry pressure of his mouth was too demanding, the hot invasion of his tongue too mind-bending to allow any kind of coherent thought to dominate. She was on fire for him, kissing him back with a raw abandon that had nothing to do with intelligent reasoning. She wanted him. Dear God, he was right: she wanted him! And, no matter how she might deny it to herself, that had never happened before.

  Her whole body was suffused with the pleasure his mouth was exacting. Little rivulets of flame sped along her veins, melting her bones and thickening her blood. His tongue seduced hers, assaulted hers, sucked hers into his mouth with a greedy possession, and her arms crept around him without her really being aware of it.

  Her breasts were taut and swollen, straining against the restrictions of the teddy, and desperate to be free. When Alex’s mouth left hers to seek the delicate skin that rose above the silk she tried to communicate this to him, and when he tipped the straps off her shoulders, and pressed the bodice down to her waist, she sighed with satisfaction. She trembled, too, when his mouth took possession of one engorged peak and suckled eagerly. She had never experienced the surge of emotion the sight of his dark head against her breast inspired in her. Her hand moved to cradle his head, her fingers sliding into his dark hair, and when his hands gripped her hips, she arched convulsively against him.

  Alex caught his breath as the pliant contours of her body moulded themselves to his. One long leg had coiled itself around his, and, taking advantage of her yielding weakness, he cupped his hands beneath her bottom, and carried her to the bed. Camilla tumbled back on to the cool counterpane without protest. Her fingers assisted his as he tore off his shirt and jacket before coming down on top of her.

  His mouth sought hers again, more urgently now, and she felt his hands peeling the clinging teddy from her hips. Her moist limbs, freed now from any restraint, wound themselves about him, and Alex’s groan of satisfaction was buried in her hair.

  His hands moved lower, sliding between her legs to find the slick curls that hid the eager core of her womanhood. The muscles there jerked and constricted beneath his probing caress, and Camilla moaned, deep in her throat, as he stroked the palpitating source.

  But he was still half dressed, and when his mouth laved a heated trail to her navel she uttered a choking protest. ‘Please,’ she breathed, shifting urgently beneath his caress. Her hands sought the buckle of his belt, and he rolled on to his side to enable her to loosen it. But the rigid swelling beneath the cloth was what intrigued her most, and her fingers moved to encircle his hardness, drawing down his zip, and taking him into her hands.

  ‘Oh, God!’ he muttered, tearing open the buckle himself, and disposing of the button beneath. ‘Camilla, I have to do it now! I have to be inside you. You’re driving me insane…’

  * * *

  Later Camilla was to wonder what would have happened if Alex had actually been caught in the act of love when Mama Lu knocked at the door. She doubted he would have recovered so quickly from that eventuality as he did from only being on the brink. As it was, she could have screamed with frustration when the throbbing heat of his arousal was withdrawn. Seconds before, it had felt like hot velvet against her thigh, a swollen, pulsatingly hard tumescence that would satisfy the burning ache inside her. But, by the time Camilla had regained her senses sufficiently to understand that there was someone knocking at her door, Alex was thrusting the tail of his shirt into the waistband of his trousers.

  ‘Put this on,’ he said, picking the bathrobe off the floor and tossing it to her. And, although his words were innocent of censure, there was a savage denigration in his eyes.

  Camilla felt dizzy as she got off the bed and did as he had ordered. Too much emotion, and too swift a transition to reality, had made her doubt her own identity, and she blinked a little dazedly as Alex knotted his tie.

  She was still struggling to tie the cord of the robe when Alex went to open the door, and he frowned disapprovingly. It seemed obvious he blamed her for what had happened, and, as sanity reasserted itself, Camilla also blamed herself. Dear God, she thought, trying to smooth the hair which only minutes before Alex had disordered; she had almost committed an unforgivable sin! While everyone else was desperate for news of Virginia and Maria, she had seduced—and been seduced by purely selfish emotions. For the last fifteen minutes she hadn’t given a thought to anyone or anything but Alex, and even now, with the knowledge of hindsight, her body was still clamouring for a satisfaction it hadn’t received.

  She dreaded Mama Lu’s coming in. She dreaded the housekeeper looking at her, and guessing what had been going on. There was no way Camilla could face her without revealing how she felt. She didn’t
have the kind of character that could hide its innermost feelings.

  But, as it happened, she didn’t have to. Within a minute of Mama Lu’s knocking at the door, Alex was opening it and letting himself out. ‘Miss Richards isn’t very well, so I’ve suggested she get some rest,’ Camilla heard him say as he closed the door firmly behind him. ‘She’s got a headache, and I was in the bathroom, getting her a drink, when you knocked at the door. That was why I didn’t hear…’

  The sound of his voice died away as he and the housekeeper walked back along the corridor, and Camilla slumped on to the edge of the bed. Whatever Mama Lu might really think, she was evidently not prepared to go against her employer’s instructions, and whatever she had wanted to say could apparently wait until later.

  Camilla sighed, wiping her damp forehead with the back of her hand. Now that Alex was gone it was becoming increasingly difficult to believe what had actually happened, but the sight of the envelope, lying on the floor where he had dropped it, reminded her sharply of his reasons for coming.

  Reminded her, too, that she had said nothing to Alex about seeing Virginia. The arrival of the letter, obviously given to the child to deliver by Virginia herself, had superceded everything else. And then, when Alex had touched her…

  She swallowed unevenly. She still didn’t know what terms Virginia—and Grant—had stated in the letter, but nothing would persuade her to read it. Getting off the bed, she picked up the envelope, pushed the letter inside, and stuffed it into a drawer. However unwilling Alex might be to talk to her again, sooner or later he would come back for the letter. And then she would tell him what Virginia had said, whether or not he chose to believe she had had no part in the meeting.

  * * *

  Camilla slept fitfully. She had awakened several times, convinced it must be morning, only to find it was still the early hours. She had wished she had something she could take to relax her. A sleeping pill, perhaps, or even a warm drink, but she didn’t. And the idea of leaving her room to go in search of Mama Lu’s kitchen was not appealing.