by Anne Mather
Ruth fumbled for the handle of the door as the Porsche slowed to a standstill, but the car was locked and she couldn't get it open.
'Don't be melodramatic. Ruth.' he told her. as the lights changed and the car began to move again. 'Jumping out into the rain isn't going to solve anything. You know that and I know that, so stop fighting me!'
'I'll never stop fighting you.' she declared childishly. 'I should have known. I shouldn't have trusted you. I should have realised you were entirely without integrity!'
'Oh. for God's sake!' With a squeal of brakes Dominic turned the car. skidding into a layby and bringing it to an abrupt standstill. 'All right.' he said, raking back his damp hair with unsteady fingers, 'I'm a swine and I'm a bastard. What else do you want to say?'
'I don't want to say anything,' she mumbled, through shaking lips, as he pulled down his tie and loosened the top button of his shirt. 'I—I just want you to take me back to—to my aunt's. Or—or let me take a bus or something.'
'A bus!' Dominic sighed, resting both elbows on the steering wheel and propping his head in his hands. 'Ruth. I'll take you back if you really want to go. And apologise to your aunt as well, if you want me to.'
Ruth pressed her lips together. 'Dominic, you shouldn't have done this—'
'It was the only way I could think of to see youalone.' he replied simply, and she shook her head.
'But how did you know—I mean—how did you find out where I was learning to drive?'
'Oh.' he grimaced, turning his head on his hands to look at her, 'that was easy. I asked your aunt.'
'Aunt Davina?' Ruth was shocked.
'Yes. Why not? When I asked where you were and she told me you were taking a driving lesson, it was not unreasonable to ask who was teaching you.'
'Oh, you mean on Tuesday?' Ruth nodded. 'I see.'
'As to the time . . .'He shrugged. 'I had someone make enquiries.'
'Who?'
'My secretary.'
'Oh!' Ruth bent her head.
'A Mrs Cooke,' he told her flatly. 'She used to be my father's secretary, actually, but now she's mine.'
Ruth's tongue circled her upper lip. 'My—my aunt said she'd read that your father has retired.'
Dominic nodded. 'That's right, he has. Or at least, he's trying to.'
'And—and you're in charge?'
'Nominally,' he agreed dryly. 'For a trial period.'
'Do you like it?' Ruth was interested, in spite of herself.
He moved his shoulders in a dismissing gesture. 'I don't know,' he said at last, it's a big responsibility.'
is that why—I mean—' Ruth stopped in some confusion, and then, realising she had to finish, she went on: 'You look—tired. I thought—I wondered—'
'—if I was losing sleep over the company?' Dominic's mouth twisted in self-mockery. 'Oh, no. I don't lose any sleep over Crown Chemicals.' He paused. 'Only over you.'
'Me?' Ruth stared at him, wide-eyed. 'But you can't! I—I don't believe you!'
He straightened, reaching for the ignition. 'I'll take you back now,' he said heavily, starting the engine, and Ruth gazed at him helplessly, not knowing what to say next.
'Wait.' she articulated at last, as he drove to the end of the layby, and prepared to pull out. 'Dominic —Dominic, where were you taking me?'
'Does it matter?'
He was cold and detached now, and she couldn't bear it. 'It—it might,' she ventured, preventing him from putting the car into gear. 'Dominic, please, I—I'd like to know. Don't—don't be angry with me.'
His eyes darkened before he could prevent her seeing it, but his voice was still chilling as he said shortly: 'I was taking you to Marlin Spike. Now will you let go my arm?'
Ruth sighed, gazing up at him. 'Then take me there,' she said huskily, and when he gave her a suspicious look, she added: 'I'll ring Aunt Davina. I'll tell her I'm staying in town to do some shopping. Really. I like seeing new places. Is it a town or a village?'
Dominic shook his head. 'Marlin Spike is the place where I was brought up,' he said heavily, it's a house—my house. Now, do you still want to come?'
Ruth hesitated. A house! A place where they might be completely alone! Her legs felt like jellys.
'A-all right.' she got out jerkily. 'Is—is it far?'
'Not too far.' he conceded, estimating the speed of a slow-moving lorry, and pulling out ahead of it. 'Well? Do we go on—or turn back at the next roundabout?'
'We go on,' she murmured huskily, and slumped in her seat with sudden exhaustion.
She had wanted to see more of England, and she was seeing it. With the sprawling suburbs of London giving way to acres of fields and woodlands, with only villages to break up the landscape, she began to relax. She had not realised the country lay so close to the town, and even though some of the villages were evidently extending their boundaries rapidly, to accommodate the outflow from the urban districts, they still had beauty and character. There was light and space, and when the sun pushed its way through the clouds, to cast a watery brilliance over everything. there was colour, too. It was as if the day was trying to show her that she had made the right decision, and her spirits rose as the sun's warmth grew.
She would have liked to take off her coat, but it was still damp and clinging to her, and her hair felt heavy about her ears. She contented herself with kicking off the high-heeled suede shoes she had been wearing, and wriggled her toes delightfully in their new-found freedom.
Marlin Spike stood on the outskirts of Great Missenden. It was a grey brick house, set in parkland, with a winding gravel drive leading up to circular forecourt. It was much bigger than Ruth had expected-, and yet its creeper-hung facade was not intimidating, its long lead-paned windows sharing a friendly intimacy.
i was born here,' remarked Dominic, leaning on the wheel for a moment before getting out. 'Do you want to see where?'
Ruth's lips quivered. 'If you want to show me,' she murmured, watching his mouth, and his expression was strangely diffident.
'I do.' he said, thrusting open his door, and she struggled to find her shoes as he came round the bonnet.
'Come on,' he said, pulling open her door, realising what she was doing. 'I'll carry you,' he added, lifting her out without effort, and her heart hammered heavily as he strode across the crunching stones.
The door opened as they approached, however, and a grey-haired woman came to the top of the steps. She was small and round and buxom, with lines that hinted at her age, but her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes were bright, and her lips parted in a smile of welcome when she saw who it was.
'Dominic!' she exclaimed, as he mounted the steps, and he put Ruth down on the threshold, to bend and embrace the old lady. 'Why didn't you let me know you were coming?' she exclaimed reprovingly. her gnarled hands fragile against his muscular shoulder. 'Whatever am I going to give you to eat?'
Dominic glanced humorously at Ruth, then smiled at the old lady. 'We didn't come here to be fed, Bridie.' he assured her dryly. 'I wanted to show Ruth the house, that's all. Now, let me take off her coat before I introduce you.'Ruth pulled the buttons apart, as Dominic eased * the coat off her shoulders, supremely conscious of his hands against the fine material of her shirt. It was a matching outfit of an amber silk shirt and a wraparound skirt, and she could feel the vibrant warmth of him through the thinness of her clothes.
Dominic introduced the old lady as Miss Bain- bridge, and explained that she had been his nurse many years ago. He explained Ruth as the young lady who with her father had looked after him when his yacht capsized, and if Miss Bainbridge thought it was strange that Ruth should now be living in England, and evidently continuing her association with her erstwhile patient, she kept her opinions to herself.
They entered the house through a wide sunlit entrance hall, with a long straight staircase running up one wall. The walls themselves were panelled in a light oak, and the floor, too, was polished wood, glowing with the patina of years. Obviously, Miss Bainbridge took her p
resent duties as housekeeper very seriously, and there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere. on window ledges, or in the niches that gleamed at either side of the softly-piled stair carpet. It was evidently a labour of love and when Dominic complimented her on it, she only shook her head dismissingly.
Doors opened to left and right, and Dominic opened one of these into a high-ceilinged reception room, eerie now, with the curtains drawn and dust- sheets shrouding all the furniture. The drawing room,' he remarked half mockingly, tugging one of the sheets aside, and Ruth caught her breath in admiration at the sight of the dusty pink velvet sofa he had revealed.
'I think you ought to go and get changed first, Dominic,' Miss Bainbridge remarked from the doorway, noticing the traces of dampness that still lingered on his shoulders and at the bottoms of his pants. 'Your room is prepared for you, as usual, and it won't take me long to make up a bed for Miss Jason—'
'Oh, no,' began Ruth automatically, and Dominic left the couch to put his hands on the old lady's shoulders.
'We're not staying, Bridie,' he insisted, giving her a gentle shake. 'I told you, I've just brought Ruth to see the house. We'll be leaving before dinner.'
Miss Bainbridge's rosy face lost a little of its animation. 'Couldn't you at least spend the evening here?' she enquired hopefully. 'I seem to remember there are some steaks in the fridge, and some of my home-made lentil soup.'
Dominic glanced thoughtfully at Ruth, and then determinedly turned away. 'I'm sorry, Bridie,' he refused blankly. 'Miss Jason can't spare the time. Another day. perhaps.'
Miss Bainbridge sighed, but she had to accept it, and Ruth knew a momentary pang. There never would be another day, she thought regretfully, and wondered why this intelligence depressed her so.
'I'll make some tea, then, shall I?' The old lady was endearingly eager, and Ruth looked anxiously at Dominic. 'You'll not refuse a cup of tea. will you?' she added. 'Not after coming all this way?'
Dominic smiled. 'No, I won't refuse a cup of tea.' he agreed gently, and after bidding him once again to " get changed, she hastened away to prepare it.
'This is a lovely room,' commented Ruth, when they were alone, and Dominic went to jerk back the heavy velvet curtains. She pulled another of the dustsheets aside. 'Oh—a piano!'
'Do you play?' asked Dominic, coming back to her, but she only shook her head.
'We didn't have any musical instruments,' she confessed ruefully. 'Daddy wasn't madly keen on music. I was. but—' she broke off suddenly, as if he might imagine she was complaining. 'I—do you? Play, I mean?'
'Occasionally,' said Dominic absently, standing beside her, stroking her shoulder with a disturbing finger. Then: 'Come on. I'll show you the rest of the house, while Bridie is making the tea.'
The remainder of the ground-floor rooms were swathed in dustsheets, like the drawing room, but even without taking all the shrouds aside, Ruth sensed this house meant something special to him. It wasn't like his home in London, which had seemed very gracious, but formal, at first impression, and it certainly wasn't like Aunt Davina's house, which was treated more like a hotel. This house had warmth, it had an atmosphere, and Ruth guessed he had been happy here.
Upstairs, there were eight bedrooms, several with their own private bathrooms. The master bedroom, which Dominic said no one used these days, was large arfd impressive, and it was here, in the huge four poster, that he had been born.
'Yes. I first saw the light of day on this mattress,' he said mockingly, bouncing up and down on the blue and gold quilt. 'To James and Isobel Crown, a son, Dominic Howard, eight pounds six ounces.'
Ruth smiled, her toes curling in the soft cream pile of the carpet. 'I imagine you were quite a handful.' she commented, meeting his eyes, and he sobered immediately, and got off the bed.
She would have recognised his room without the evident absence of dustsheets. It was spare and masculine, even austere, the only touch of luxury the king-size proportions of the bed.
'Come in.' he invited, when she hovered in the doorway. 'I'd better do as Bridie suggests, and get changed anyway, and I shouldn't like her to be shocked if she comes looking for us.'
'I'll go downstairs,' said Ruth doubtfully, glancing behind her, before recognising the look of impatience in his face. 'All right. I'll stay.' she conceded huskily, closing the door, and he turned away abruptly to his dressing room.
She heard the sliding sound as a door was rolled back in the small room adjoining, and moved automatically towards the dressing table. She was appalled at the tumbled reflection that confronted her. The rain had washed what little make-up she had been wearing from her face, and her hair drooped lopsidedly over one ear. Wisps had come loose, and were curling damply about her ears, while a whole strand lay damply against her neck.
With a feeling of impatience she pulled the hairpins out of her hair, letting the braids tumble down to her shoulders. Then, with urgent fingers, she unplaced the hair and picking up Dominic's brush, ranit eagerly through it. It would dry far more quickly loose, she consoled herself firmly, ignoring the reluctant awareness that she wanted to please Dominic.
Maybe it was thinking of him that caused her to turn her head sideways to look into his dressing room, or maybe it was simply a desire to see again the muscular strength of his body. Whatever the truth of it. she did turn her head, and Dominic, naked to the waist and wearing only the briefest of underpants, glanced up from the slacks he was preparing to put on.
Ruth put down the brush with a clatter, her tongue seeking to moisten her suddenly dry lips. 'Oh. Dominic.' she breathed, unable to prevent herself, and he dropped the slacks and covered the space between them.
'Ruth,' he groaned, his hands curving at her nape, and with a whisper of submission she leaned against him. allowing the whole length of her body to mould to the masculine hardness of his.
Her lips parted in anticipation of the possession of his mouth, opening wide beneath his, admitting the sensual invasion of his tongue. She had been a child, inexperienced, unaware, when he kissed her on the island; now she was a woman, and she knew exactly what she wanted of him.
'Ruth.' he said unsteadily, his hands parting the fastening of her blouse, exposing the ripened peaks to his urgent gaze. 'Oh, Ruth,' he muttered again, capturing her breast with delicious savagery. 'Ruth, don't stop me now. for God's sake!'
'I won't.' she breathed, and knew that it was true. Whatever happened, whatever came after, she should have this to remember, and surely even Barbara would not begrudge her the memory.
The shirt slid unheeded to the floor, followed swiftly by her skirt. She was close against him, compellingly aware of his arousal, wanting, and needing, and eager to please him.
Her fingers probed the band of his trunks, delighting in the intimacy, and with a moan of satisfaction he swung her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. Tearing the covers aside, he deposited her on the dark brown sheet, removing the rest of her clothing without shame or embarrassment, then sliding on to the bed beside her, to cover her mouth once again.
Only once did she make any objection, and that was when she remembered Miss Bainbridge. 'She won't disturb us.' Dominic told her huskily, his mouth beating a trail across her midriff, and down, over her flat stomach. 'Mmm, you're beautiful, Ruth, do you know that? Beautiful, and warm, and responsive— Oh. darling, relax. That's right. Relax, and let me—'
Ruth's whole body felt as if it was aflame. His mouth was everywhere, exploring the secret places of her body, stroking her and caressing her, awakening the strong sexual urge inside her. Her nails curled against his chest, against the crispness of his body hair, raking a passage of their own across his shoulders, clasping, and clinging, and holding him closer. Her lips opened against his jawline, against the strongly-corded column of his throat, and he moaned softly in his throat as he sought her mouth again, searching and exploring, hungrily intimate.
His kisses were getting deeper, more passionate, draining any lingering trace of resistance. He drank from her l
ips, drugged with the taste of her, arousing the instinctive response of her unconscious sensuality. She shifted beneath him urgently, arching towards his possessive hands, allowing an eager exploration of her body. She was learning how to please him. as he was pleasing her, and the low sounds of pleasure he made then told her she was having success. It didn't matter that the curtains were undrawn, or that a watery sun was only just beginning its slide into the west. She was oblivious to the world outside this room, oblivious to everything and everyone but Dominic.
She wanted him to take her. She wanted to feel him inside her, loving her. possessing her, probing the very essence of her being. And when his own hunger overcame all else, and he sought that ultimate satisfaction, it was almost a relief to wind herself about him.
'Dear God, Ruth,' he muttered, winding the dark coil of her hair around his fingers, drawing her face to his. 'You're the most important thing in my life. How. in the name of all that's sacred, could I ever have imagined otherwise?'
Ruth silenced his groan of anguish with her mouth. She didn't want to hear this. She didn't want to be reminded of all the other women he had made love to-or of the woman who would eventually bear his name. It was enough to know that he was with her now. a part of her, sharing with her the most intimate relationship two people were capable of. She loved him desperately—oh, yes, in those sensitised minutes, she could admit the truth—but neither he. nor anyone else, should ever know it.
The hungry possession of his body became all- consuming, and she felt the soaring crescendo building inside her. With his tongue, Dominic explored every contour of her lips, and she was helpless in the grip of a feverish rapture, that tore human limitations aside, and transported her to a pinnacle of emotion. If it were possible to think coherently, she would have acknowledged that her deeper awareness brought a deeper satisfaction, and she wound her arms around his neck, to cover his sweat- streaked face with kisses. Their wild abandonment exploded in a pulsating flowering of sweetness, that left them weak and clinging to one another; and Dominic buried his face between her breasts until the shuddering aftermath of appeasement left him. sighing in contentment when Ruth's fingers threaded through his damp hair.
