Fire Beneath the Ice

by Helen Brooks

  "And you want to make love with me, don't you?" He touched her aching breasts lightly.

  "Don't you, Lydia?" he persisted softly.

  "I can't--' " Yes, you can. “As his hands shaped the fullness of her breasts through the soft material of the wool dress she felt flames of fire wherever he touched, her arousal immediate. She couldn't believe the way her body reacted to his; nothing in life so far had prepared her for the onslaught of fierce physical desire that coursed through her small frame, leaving her trembling and shaking in his arms.

  He began to explore her mouth with experienced, teasing caresses, his lips and tongue first soft and light, then hard and thrusting until she felt a heat rising inside her that had to have release. His mouth wandered to her ears, her throat, finding secret erode places that had her moaning in his arms as the warmth" of his lips worked a magic she found it impossible to resist. He was good, much, much too good at this.

  She found she was clinging to his hard-muscled shoulders as much for support as the pleasure of having his _powerful body beneath her hands, the smell and taste of him all-encompassing. And he was making no attempt to hide his reaction to their lovemaking, his desire urgent and unashamed and his arousal obvious as he moulded her into the length of his lean, muscled body.

  There was something breathtakingly satisfying in knowing that she could make this tough, fascinatingly masculine man want her so badly.

  The knowledge was dangerously erotic, heady.

  "I need you, Lydia. I'm sleeping, eating, living you..." His breath was warm and clean against her throat as he covered her skin in tiny, passionate kisses in between each word.

  "It's driving me crazy." She melted against him, unable to stand any longer, and as he lowered her gently on to the thick carpet she felt his hands slide up the satin-smooth skin of her legs.

  "I want you and you want me; it's as simple as that;' As simple as that? She twisted under him, moving to the side and then away as she scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding. Simple, like with all those other women? A sating of bodily need, a physical release? What was she doing? What was she doing^

  “No.” She stared at him, her eyes huge pools of tortured darkness in the pale delicacy of her face, her lips trembling.

  "I can't..."

  "Lydia--' As he took a step towards her, his body as taut as a rod and his face working with a hundred different emotions, she backed from him desperately, her hand to her mouth. He stopped instantly.

  "Don't look ^like that, I'm not going to hurt you," he said furiously, his eyes bleak.

  Hurt her? She felt a moment's hysteria before she brought it sharply under control. He had the power to destroy her, never mind hurt her.

  "Leave me alone." She backed from him across the room.

  "I can't be what you want me to be, I can't just..." She waved her hand feverishly in the air.

  "It has to mean something. I'm sorry." She felt the handle of her door beneath her fingers and turned to stumble through, her eyes streaming with tears, blind and deaf to everything but her own humiliation, shame and misery. How could she have come so close to betraying herself like that? So close to sleeping with him when she knew it would mean less than nothing to him, merely another in the long line of temporary diversions, a physical sating of the senses that would be forgotten as soon as the bodily need was eased. He had told her what he wanted in his relationships, he had spelled it out loud and clear.

  She had no excuses, none at all.

  As the door closed behind her Wolf stood exactly where she had left him, his mouth a white slash in the hard line of his jaw.

  "It has to mean something." He drove his clenched fist against the palm of his hand, his face savage. And it clearly wouldn't with him. And why?

  Because she still loved that damn fool who had walked out on her, on her and the young child who was Lydia in miniature. This had to be the ultimate irony in his life so far. But now he knew exactly where he stood. He strode across the room and poured himself another j half-tumbler of whisky, taking the bottle with him as he walked into his bedroom and shutting the door with a savage kick.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  When Lydia awoke the next morning it was to heavy, driving rain against the bedroom window, and as she glanced at her tiny travel alarm the illuminated dial told her it was half-past five. That meant she had had precisely three hours' sleep after hours of heart-searching following the disastrous confrontation with Wolf. Her heart thudded as she remembered the whole catastrophic finish to the evening in its entirety. It was all very well to blame the alcohol, the seductive surroundings, even him, but. She shook her head slowly as she climbed wearily out of bed and padded across to the bathroom. She'd wanted him to make love to her and then she had chickened out. He must think she was the worst sort of tease. The tears started again and she brushed them aside angrily. Useless to say that she hadn't been thinking straight, that for once in her life she had gone with her feelings and not her head. She'd made a hopeless mess of the whole thing and she wouldn't blame him if he packed her straight back to London this morning.

  And how was she going to face him, anyway? She shut her eyes tightly as she let the warm, cleansing flow of the shower ease away some of the aches of a restless night. She could just imagine the cool mockery and veiled contempt with which he would meet her this morning.

  When she did meet him at seven o'clock, for breakfast served in their suite, his face was completely expressionless.

  "Good morning." He nodded to her as she left her room, face burning and head held high.

  She wanted _to sink through the carpet but forced herself to join him at the small dining-table to one side of the full-length window.

  "The waiter has just brought the food up." He indicated the beautifully laid out breakfast complete with a small posy of yellow and white daisies in the centre of the table.

  "Would you like to help yourself?" he asked flatly.

  "Thank you." If she ate anything it would choke her, she thought painfully, but then as she saw his full plate and the way he seemed to be eating with every appearance of enjoyment, a perverse pride made her select a more than adequate meal. Each mouthful was an endurance test but she managed to clear her plate. It didn't help that the whole meal was eaten in absolute silence,

  Wolf remote and sombre behind his newspaper. But she hadn't met the cool and cynical mockery she had expected. She glanced up now as she finished her coffee. She didn't understand him at all. Suddenly the newspaper lowered and a pair of very blue and very clear eyes met hers.

  "It's going to be a hard day," he said slowly, 'and a long one. "

  "Yes, I suppose it is," she agreed quietly.

  "So the first thing I would like to do is apologise for last night."

  As she opened her mouth to speak he raised his hand quickly, his face dark and severe.

  "No, hear me out, Lydia, please. The second is to say it was not my intention to take advantage of you--' “I wasn't drunk," she protested weakly. She hadn't expected him to behave like this: she had expected rage, contempt, cold mockery-- “I’m aware of that. “He smiled grimly.

  "But you aren't used to alcohol, by your own admission, and you had drunk enough to feel... a little reckless? I misunderstood the situation and thought--' He stopped abruptly and her _face flamed still further. She knew exactly what he had thought and she couldn't blame him at all. It had been her body giving the 'go' signals there, and she knew it.

  "It was my fault. Wolf," she said bleakly.

  "I don't know what came over me." Liar. He had come over her, the little voice in her mind sniped immediately.

  "Well, don't let's argue the finer points." He rose from the table as he spoke and held out his hand, his eyes veiled.

  "Suffice to say we both know where we stand and perhaps we could leave it at that? This project we're involved in is important to me, Lydia, damn important, and I don't want any outside difficulties or tension to deflect our concentration." His voice was expre
ssionless and cold.

  "Of course." She had never felt so miserable in her life, she thought desperately as she smiled brightly and nodded her agreement. She had been right; she wasn't even a serious consideration in his life. He could dismiss her without a second thought as a write-off. She took his outstretched hand as he helped her up from the table, and let go immediately as the warmth of his flesh sent a shiver down her spine.

  "I'll just get my things," she said quickly.

  It had stopped raining as they left the hotel and a weak November sun had lit the grey-blue sky with streaks of gold. The hotel was just past a small village, screened by trees and set back from the main road, and as they drove out of the beautifully tended grounds she glanced in the distance to where craggy mountain peaks of red sandstone and granite topped with white quartzite towered over wild hills dotted with grazing sheep.

  "It's lovely in the summer." He had followed her eyes to the harsh, haunting beauty of the bare hills.

  "A sea of heather colours the fells purple, and the contrasts of shades have to be seen to be believed."

  "I can imagine." She nodded stiffly. How could he talk so normally, how could he?

  "But it's beautiful now in its own way," she said quietly, forcing herself to make conversation.

  "Yes, it is." The big, powerful car drove swiftly past the tiny village of whitewashed houses and carved gravestones in the ancient churchyard, reaching within minutes the main road which was the fastest route to Inverness, where

  Wolfs factory was situated. Lydia tried to relax on the short journey to the office, but it was difficult with his big, aggressively male body so close to hers and the scent of him teasing her nostrils. In spite of every effort to the contrary, she kept remembering how it had felt to be in his arms last night. It was everything she had imagined and more. She kicked herself mentally, hard. Stop it, Lydia, she told herself sternly, you're being ridiculous. But, ridiculous or not, her body continued to play tricks on her all the way to Strade Engineering Scotland, and she was immeasurably thankful when the Rover drew to a halt in front of the offices. Never had a journey seemed so long.

  The day proved every bit as arduous as Wolf had suspected, but by late afternoon the onerous hours of hard labour had paid off. The contract was saved, albeit with a few concessions.

  "I didn't think you'd pull it off, Wolf." Doug Webb ran a weary hand over his face as he spoke, his eyes red-rimmed. Wolf on the other hand looked every bit as fresh and razor-sharp as when he had stridden into the office first thing that morning, barking orders and setting the place scuttling.

  "Piece of cake." Wolf grinned at the other man with sardonically raised eyebrows, and Lydia felt an emotion _shoot through her that caused her breath to stop in her throat. Just physical attraction, she told herself sharply as she tidied the last of the papers on her desk. The fact that he had just looked like a proud schoolboy receiving a hard-won accolade had not stirred her heart an iota. She did not feel tenderness or warmth towards this man, she did not.

  "Hell!" Doug suddenly clapped his hand to the side of his head.

  "I was supposed to ask you this morning--' He stopped abruptly.

  "She’ll kill me."

  "She will?" If Lydia had been looking she would have seen Wolfs easy expression stiffen somewhat.

  "What's wrong?"

  "I was to let her know before lunchtime if you couldn't make it for dinner tonight," Doug admitted shamefacedly.

  "You and Lydia, that is.

  Otherwise she was going to go ahead with a dinner for four. You know how Sue loves entertaining. "

  "Yes." This time a certain inflexion in Wolf’s voice caught Lydia's ear and she glanced up to see the habitual expression of cool remoteness had settled over the hard features.

  "Well, we were going to enjoy a quiet meal at the hotel, but you'd better ring Sue and let her know what time to expect us," Wolf said with neutral politeness.

  As soon as they drew up at Doug Webb's smart, detached house the door opened, and a tall elegant woman positioned herself in the lighted doorway, arms stretched out in dramatic welcome.

  "Wolf, how lovely.

  And you must be Lydia. “As they reached her side the slim brunette arched pencil-slim eyebrows as she let her wide, green-flecked eyes wander over

  Wolfs bland face.

  "You look wonderful. Wolf, it's just not fair that men improve with the years, is it...?"

  _Lydia found her mouth had fallen open as she preceded Wolf into the house, his hand in the small of her back. Doug's wife was not at all what she had expected and seemed very familiar with Wolf for one of his employees' wives.

  She glanced at the other woman in the bright artificial light in the hall and felt her heart sink as she noticed the tall, model-slim figure and expensive immaculate dress that draped over the beautiful frame beneath it as though it had been sewn on. Her own skirt and blouse were fine for the office, smart and prudently formal, but hopelessly inadequate for an evening out, besides which, after the sort of day they had been engaged in, she felt sticky and crumpled and drab.

  "Do come through." Sue took her arm as Doug divested them of their coats, and Lydia saw that the lovely face was expertly made-up, her long thick dark hair arranged in an up swept style that lent emphasis to the slender long neck and graceful shoulders.

  "You must be absolutely dying for a drink," she said languidly.

  "Lydia doesn't drink." Wolfs voice cut in behind her before she could reply, and she felt herself stiffen at the expressionless tone. Was he being sarcastic, mocking, after last night, or merely trying to be helpful? She couldn't see his face, and turned as they entered the lounge, but the bland cool features were giving nothing away, his eyes remote and distant as she searched his face.

  "Don't you?" Sue's voice expressed utter amazement, with a subtle hint of disapproval at her crassness.

  "Well, we've got tonic or bitter-lemon or things like that." She smiled at

  Lydia with her mouth as her eyes swept coldly over her face and figure with exacting thoroughness.

  "There's some freshly squeezed orange in the fridge." Doug indicated for them to be seated as he spoke.

  _"That would be lovely." Lydia forced a smile at his cheerful face gratefully.

  "Well, you see to that and I'll look after Wolf," Sue smiled sweetly.

  "Whisky on the rocks, as usual?"

  "Please." Wolf didn't return the lovely brunette's smile but Lydia didn't notice; she was trying to absorb and understand the messages her brain was giving her. There was something wrong, something not quite. nice here.

  As Wolf seated himself beside her on the beautifully upholstered set tee she glanced round the large room warily. Everything was of the very best. Wolf obviously paid his employees well. She noticed a photograph of two snub-nosed, brown-haired children in a corner of the room, and spoke impulsively as Sue handed Wolf his drink.

  "What lovely children. How old are they?"

  "Geraldine is seven and Geoffrey is eight. They are Doug's children from his first marriage." The green eyes nicked uninterestedly over" the photograph.

  "They live with their mother," she added coldly.

  "Oh, I see." Lydia sought for something to say--the brunette's tone had almost been a snub.

  "Do you have any children?" she asked politely, trying to stifle her dislike.

  "No." Hard green eyes met hers.

  "I still work now and again, so it's impractical."

  "Sue is a model." Doug had joined them, handing Lydia her drink with a quick glance at his wife.

  "She feels being pregnant would put her out of action too long, besides which, she doesn't really like children. Do you, darling?" It was obviously a sore point, and Lydia felt herself flush at her inadvertent gaffe, but Sue seemed quite unaffected, throwing her husband a cold glance of distaste as she agreed with him.

  _"No, I don't." She smiled coolly at Lydia.

  "Deadly for the figure."

  As the evening p
rogressed Lydia felt more and more uncomfortable.

  Apart from the first few moments, the social repartee had been light and amusing; Sue was a sparkling hostess and Doug was droll and humorous, but under the surface polish of well-bred refinement she sensed a whole host of different emotions bubbling and simmering with puzzling ferocity.

  Wolf was his normal cool, cynical self, adding the odd bite of mordant humour which Sue in particular seemed to appreciate thoroughly, but then she seemed to appreciate thoroughly everything about Wolf, Lydia thought testily as the brunette made yet another outrageous bid for his attention, the third in as many minutes. It was obvious and embarrassing, and yet Doug seemed quite relaxed, jovial, even.