Stormspell

by Anne Mather

  'There, you see,' she said, speaking to Dominic, as he put Ruth firmly aside and went to join them. 'Didn't I tell you my cousin'd do anything for me?'

  Harold, for that was who it must be, Ruth guessed, grinned, showing broad white teeth. 'If'n you want to borrow this m'chine, Mr Howard, sir, you're mighty welcome.'

  Dominic cast a speculative glance back at Ruth, and then inclined his head. 'Two-fifty.' he remarked. 'It's a powerful little motor. It must be ten years since I rode one of these.'

  'You're not going to ride it—are you?' Ruth spoke urgently at first, and then tempered her protest with a question, i mean, it's dark. Wh-where could you go now?'

  Dominic grimaced, 'I don't know. You tell me.' He turned back to Harold, who was getting off the machine. 'Has it got fuel?'

  'Gas? Yes. sir. I filled it up m'self.'

  'Good.'

  Dominic hesitated only a moment before taking the bike from him and swinging his leg across the saddle. Then, straddling the machine, he tested it for weight and control. It was light, and manoeuvrable. and he gave the three of them a whimsical look.

  'Okay.' he said, wheeling it round in a semi-circle. 'I'll give it a go. Anyone want to come with me?'

  Celeste looked at Ruth, her dark eyes slightly malicious. 'You want to go. honey?' she enquired in a silky voice. 'Or you going to let Celeste ride pillion?-'

  Ruth's mouth felt dry. 'My father—Father Andreas—' she began, but Celeste only scoffed.

  'What they doing?' she demanded. 'Arguing, as usual? Hell, ain't no one going to miss you for half an hour. Leave it to Celeste.'

  'Perhaps you ought to stay here.' Dominic remarked now. flatly. 'As you say, we wouldn't want to upset your father, would we?'

  Ruth's fists clenched at her sides. 'I—I've never ridden a motor-cycle before,' she exclaimed, in her own defence, and Celeste snorted.

  'Ain't but only one way to learn. Missy,' she taunted, linking her arm with Harold's. 'Ain't that so?'

  'Are you coming or aren't you?'

  Dominic was getting impatient, and Ruth shifted uneasily. She didn't want him to go. but if he insisted on disobeying her father's instructions, she could not prevent him. But to go with him—that was something else, something she knew without a shadow of a doubt her father would forbid.

  And yet she wanted to go. Where was the harm? she asked herself. As Celeste said, her father need never know. No matter how culpable that made her feel, this was her last chance of being alone with Dominic.

  'All right.' she conceded, rather breathlessly, and stepped forward uncertainly, not quite knowing how to proceed.

  'Climb up behind me,' Dominic directed, supporting the bike with a foot on the ground at either side. 'Now. swing your leg across—that's right. And hold on to me.'

  Ruth endeavoured without much success to keep her skirt at a respectable length, conscious all the while of Dominic's lean form in front of her. timid to hold on to him as he had suggested.

  'You want to follow the track down to the harbour.' said Celeste's cousin now, coming forward. 'If'n you want, you can freewheel all the way down to the harbour, then start your engine when ain't no fear of being overheard.'

  'Good idea,' Dominic remarked laconically, but Ruth could not see his face. 'Then where would you suggest? You'd better give me some directions.'

  'There a track over by Guarder Rock,' Celeste told him, frowning. Then she looked at Ruth. 'You know the way. Missy. You can show him.'

  Ruth nodded, rather jerkily. 'We—we won't be long. If Daddy misses me—'

  '—I'll tell him you're taking a bath,' declared Celeste, shortly. 'Have a good time. It's the only way.'

  Ruth wondered, and as Dominic pushed the bike towards the rise leading down to the village, she half wished she had stuck to what she knew was right. This was totally against her nature, behaving in this clandestine way. and she wondered what Dominic was thinking as the momentum sent them rolling, ever more quickly, down the uneven slope.

  Her own thoughts were soon taken up with the need to keep her seat. With the wind rushing through her hair, streaming out behind her like an ebony banner, and the speed of the bike increasing every second, she was compelled to put her arms around Dominic's waist and cling to him for dear life. She had no experience in such matters, no understanding of balance or the centrifugal force that would keep her on the machine. She only knew a moment's blind panic, when she felt sure she was about to be lifted bodily from the smooth leather, before she gave in to the desire to hold on tight, so that she

  might enjoy this exhilarating feeling of speed.

  Dominic slowed the bike at the foot of the hill, turning to look at her in the pale illumination cast by the moon. 'You all right?' he asked, and she was forced to release him to allow his free movement, nodding wordlessly in answer to his query.

  With a shrug, he turned back again, starting the engine, and this time the powerful throb of the motor added to the sense of elation she was feeling. They followed the track that wound up from the harbour, and round the shoulder of the headland. Despite her fears, the way was quite smooth, ironed out by years of use. With the moon's light and the powerful beam of the headlight, there was no danger of losing their way. and Ruth determinedly forgot her anxieties and began to enjoy herself. She had never done anything like this before, never travelled so fast, or so excitingly, never disobeyed her father quite so deliberately.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Below them, the curve of the bay followed their progress, moon-gilded and romantic in its secretive shadow. It was a time of the evening that Ruth had never enjoyed before, and she realised in passing how much she had still to learn.

  Dominic brought the motor-cycle to a halt on a grassy knoll overlooking a deserted stretch of sand. A tussocky slope gave on to palm-strewn dunes, and beyond, the surging waters of the Caribbean drifted in continual motion. The line of foam that marked the ocean's passage was silver-tongued and melodious, and the murmur of its intrusion softly played along the shore. On either side of this sheltered inlet, rocky bastions jutted for almost half a mile, and Dominic kicked down the metal strut that supported the bike and dismounted with lazy precision.

  'Is that the Guarder Rock Celeste was talking about?' he enquired, and Ruth pushed her skirt over her knees, remaining where she was.

  'It's Garde du Roc, actually,' she said, correcting him. 'And yes, this is the bay.'

  'And where are the Serpent's Teeth from here?'

  Ruth swallowed hard. 'Not far. Perhaps a mile.'

  'Is that right?' He came to the bike to stand with his hands on the petrol tank, supporting himself. 'How about taking a look?'

  Ruth licked her dry lips. 'We've been gone about fifteen minutes already.'

  Dominic's mouth hardened. 'You want to go back?' he asked flatly and she shifted uncomfortably.

  'Sh—shouldn't we?'

  He shrugged, and then nodded rather resignedly. 'I guess so.'

  Ruth bit her lip. 'We could go down to the beach for a few minutes, if you want to,' she offered.

  'Why?' He was very direct.

  'To—to stretch our legs,' she ventured, it's such a lovely night.'

  'You noticed!' he remarked, making no attempt to hide his sarcasm.

  'Of course I noticed,' exclaimed Ruth indignantly, trying to wriggle her leg over the bike without exposing herself as Celeste had done. It was not a successful attempt, but she faced Dominic bravely as he watched her futile efforts, finally giving up the struggle for modesty, and allowing him a glimpse of a slim brown thigh. 'Well, shall we do that?' she demanded, standing beside him, tall and slender as a reed in her faded skirt and cotton shirt, and with an indifferent gesture he complied.

  She left her sandals on the seat of the bike, preferring to walk barefooted on the sand. It was cool beneath her feet, sliding between her toes, slightly abrasive where particles of coral had been ground to a fine powder. It was threaded with shells of every shape and size, their colours muted in the moonlig
ht, a necklace of sea-pearls lacing the shore.

  Dominic walked beside her, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his slacks, saying nothing; yet she was aware of him with every fibre of her being. She wished she could say something—anything—to break this impasse, but no matter how she tried to compose her words, they all sounded silly and childish inside her head.

  She glanced sideways at him, pressing her lips together in helpless frustration. What would Celeste do in circumstances like this? she wondered, and then coloured hotly at the inevitable answer. One thing was certain, she would not be tongue-tied and nervous. Celeste knew what she wanted, and went out and got it. The trouble was. Ruth didn't honestly know what she wanted. She only knew her time with Dominic was slipping away, and he seemed hardly aware of her.

  With extreme daring, she put out her hand and touched his arm then, drawing his eyes to her. His skin felt cool and firm to her touch, the muscles hardening to resist her grasp, but she slid her fingers round his sleeve, linking her arm with his.

  Dominic halted, removing her fingers with eloquent firmness, his brows drawing together above the mild impatience of his features.

  'Don't do that, Ruth.' he said, his tone cool and offhand. 'If you want to go back, just say so. I didn't ask you to come down here.'

  'I don't want to go back!' Ruth protested recklessly. meeting the narrowing darkness of his eyes. 'I just wanted you to remember I'm here, that's all. I might as well be invisible for all the notice you take of me."

  There was a strained silence after this outburst. Ruth was appalled at her own audacity, and she guessed Dominic was as embarrassed by it as she was. She didn't know what had come over her, and she turned away abruptly, feeling ready to die of shame.

  'You're wrong,' Dominic said at last, but she had the feeling the words were being dragged from him. 'Of course I'm aware of you, Ruth, although I doubt you know what that really means.' He paused. 'I told you once before—you're a beautiful girl. I couldn't help being aware of you, even if I wanted to. So stop feeling so sorry for yourself and let's go back.'

  Ruth turned slowly, her hair swinging silkily almost to her waist. 'You really think I'm beautiful?' she echoed disbelievingly. 'But that day on the beach, you seemed angry when you told me so.'

  Dominic pushed back his hair with a restless hand. 'I wasn't angry—at least, not with you. With myself, maybe.'

  'Why?' She was puzzled.

  'Ruth, let's go back,' he said flatly. 'This kind of conversation is going to get us nowhere.'

  'Then why are you getting angry again?'

  'I'm not getting angry.'

  'You are.' She frowned. 'I can tell. I know—'

  'You know me so well, is that it?' he demanded harshly. 'Come on, Ruth—'

  'Don't be angry,' she begged. 'You're going away tomorrow. Can't we at least remain friends?'

  'We are friends,' he assured her grimly. 'Good lord, you saved my life. And if there was something I could do for you. some way I could repay you, I would. But your situation here—well, it precludes any help I might wish to give you.'

  'Help?' She looked faintly apprehensive.

  'Yes, help.' He sighed. 'The chance to offer you something you obviously couldn't afford.'

  'You mean you want to buy me something?' she exclaimed disbelievingly, and Dominic made a sound of impatience.

  'You're taking me very literally.'

  'What, then?'

  He hesitated. 'An education, maybe,' he suggested. 'A university education. If your father would only let you come to England—'

  Ruth drew back from him. 'I am educated,' she declared tremulously. 'I may seem inexperienced to you, but I'm not ignorant!'

  'I never said you were,' he amended mildly. 'Don't you see? If you went to university—'

  'I see that you seem determined to define me as a student!' she retorted stiffly, twisting her hands together. 'You're just like my father. You won't see me as anything more than a child!'

  'I am not like your father!' he countered, with some heat. 'I don't think like your father, I don't act like your father, and God knows, I don't feel like your father!' He took her by the shoulders then, when she persisted in avoiding his gaze, his thumb bruising her throat, forcing her to lift her chin. 'Be sensible, Ruth,' he snapped, 'and don't invite difficulties. Believe me, I can be nothing but trouble to you.'

  'Trouble?' Ruth frowned then, her blue eyes wide and uncomprehending between the dark silky lashes. 'I don't know what you mean.'

  T think you do,' he informed her brusquely, and she was intrigued by the sudden harshness of his mouth, and the erratic beating of a pulse just below his jawline. His lips were slightly parted, and the wine-scented odour of his breath came to her in uneven waves of sweetness, mingling with hers in a curiously disturbing coalescence. It was an intangible merging, a pervasive intrusion, that left her feeling weak and strangely vulnerable.

  Yet she did nothing to break that aggressive contact, that tenuous embrace that Dominic was sustaining almost against his will it seemed. Even when his hands moved with controlled impatience against the thin cotton of her shirt, and strong fingers moulded the bones beneath the material, before tightening with painful intensity, she remained motionless as his breathing quickened to a laboured oscillation. Then holding her startled eyes with his, he jerked her towards him and bent his head to hers.

  It was not like that other occasion when he had played with her lips, without any real satisfaction. This time, the hungry pressure of his mouth on hers was an unexpected assault, and the tongue that forced her lips apart was a moist and sensual invader. Every bone in her body seemed to melt beneath that passionate possession; she sagged heavily against him, depending on his support.

  His hands slid round her waist, drawing her against him, and she could feel the hardening muscles of his thighs surging against her. She knew, instinctively, what that meant, but any resistance she might have offered was being negated by the searching pressure of his mouth against her neck. His hands threaded through her hair, drawing it across his lips, crushing it within his fist, caressing it and stroking it, until Ruth felt it almost had a life of its own.

  But when his hands slid upwards, over her waist and the taut skin that covered her rib cage, to the swelling fullness of her breasts, a cry of protest broke from her. Allowing him to kiss her might be wrong, letting him press his aroused body close to hers might be wrong, but they were things she could excuse. This was not. Somehow, she didn't know when, he had released her shirt from the waistband of her skirt, and those long brown fingers she had watched combing his hair, and massaging his arm. and eating his food, were now curving around her naked breast, beneath the concealing covering of her shirt. What was more, they were caressing her, kneading her firm softness, plucking at the roseate peak that surged against her shirt in shameless vanity.

  'Please—you mustn't,' she begged, trying to push his hand away, but Dominic's eyes were dark and unyielding.

  'Why mustn't I?' he demanded, in a shaken voice. | 'Why mustn't I touch you? You know you want me to. Unbutton your shirt, and let me see.'

  'No!' Ruth's tongue circled her lips in innocent provocation. 'Dominic, we have to go back. It's getting late. Please—you must listen to me!'

  'I'm listening,' he said, but as he did so, he slid the offending shirt off one shoulder, exposing the creamy skin to his urgent gaze. With his tongue, he traced the tender outline of the bones beneath her skin, then beat a searing path up the side of her neck, to bite the shell-like lobe that framed her ear. By the time he had explored the hollows beneath her ear, Ruth felt as if she was on fire, and she turned her face eagerly towards him. seeking the sensuous pleasure of his mouth.

  She realised that her shirt was unbuttoned, and the body hair that formed a fine mat on his chest was abrasive against her breasts. Yet it was not an unpleasant abrasiveness, and for the first time, her hands went involuntarily to him, seeking to feel the texture of his skin. He had unfastened his shirt to the wa
ist, and her fingers slid beneath its softness, spreading against the smooth tautness of his back. She felt the tension in him, the coiled spring of emotion that was rapidly getting out of control, and knew a curious satisfaction that she was the cause of it.

  'Ruth,' he groaned, against her mouth, 'I want you. I want to make love to you. Are you going to stop me?'

  Ruth quivered, her whole being aroused to such a pitch that his words were hardly comprehensible. 'You—you are making love to me,' she breathed, and he made a strangled sound, deep within his throat.

  'No, I'm not,' he said, swinging her off her feet suddenly and into his arms. He looked down at her passionately, then bent to rub his lips against hers. 'I want to.' he added, his breath filling her mouth. 'I want to be a part of you. However, I've no intention of seducing a virgin. That can be far too hazardous!'

  Ruth looked up at him, her lips parted, the delicate curve of her body outlined within his grasp. 'Dominic?' she pleaded, half confused even now. and his eyes closed against the unconscious appeal of her.

  'Home,' he articulated at last, through clenched teeth, setting off across the sand. 'Back to sanity. Back to your father.'

  Ruth struggled in his grasp. 'Put me down.' she protested. 'I—I'm too heavy. Your arm—'

  'My arm can make it,' he retorted dryly, his features taut, and then swore angrily when he stumbled over an exposed root. The impetus of his momentary loss of balance was too much for him, accentuated as it was by her weight in his arms, and they pitched together on to the sand, collapsing in an ungainly heap. 'Hell. I'm sorry,' Dominic exclaimed, as constricted sounds escaped Ruth's lips, but his contrition turned to anger when he found she was not crying, as he had at first thought, but laughing.

  'I could have broken your neck.' he exhorted her harshly, leaning over her as she lay prostrate on the soft dunes. 'My God. that would really have been something to tell your father, wouldn't it?' His hand brushed back the dark hair from her forehead. 'He'd never have forgiven me for that either.'