by Sara Craven
And he was kissing her again, his lips deepening their demand, as he pulled aside the soft fabric of her top, his hand cupping one small pointed breast, his thumb playing with her nipple, teasing it into erect, aching sensation.
For the first time in her life, Dana was experiencing the full, practised seduction of a man’s intimate touch, and she knew that now, if ever, was the time to truly resist. To call a definite halt before her body went into meltdown.
‘Adam, you must listen...’ Her voice was husky, almost unrecognisable, but once again his only response was the finger laid gently against her parted lips, forbidding further protest.
He found the three pearl buttons that fastened her top and released them before sliding the tiny garment from her shoulders, and discarding it.
Then, bending his head, he took one aroused rosy peak into his mouth, suckling it with delicate hunger, then moved to the other, the erotic flicker of his tongue against her flesh making her moan softly.
She realised in some distant corner of her mind that he was unhooking the waistband of her skirt and removing that too.
And as he kissed her mouth again, his hand began a lingering traverse from her knee along the slender length of her thigh, tracing the edge of her lace briefs with one tantalising finger.
She was too caught up in him, the cool taste of his mouth on hers, the astonishing delight of his touch and the untold pleasures it promised to realise at first that there was a noise.
She was vaguely aware of—something. Some intrusion on the edge of her drowning consciousness. And felt his sudden tension as he heard it too.
Someone was outside, she realised, shocked. Trying the door handle. Rattling it in angry frustration.
‘Dana—are you there? Hurry up and open the door, sweetheart.’ Adam’s voice, pitched low but unmistakable.
For a moment she was still, frozen with disbelief. Because Adam was here with her—making love to her. Wasn’t he?
Her throat closed in horror. She began to struggle, but it was useless. She was locked, helpless, in the cage of his arms. Dumb too under the ruthless pressure of his mouth, as it enforced her silence.
‘Dana, open the damned door.’ Adam was impatient now. There was a pause, then a thud which might have been a kick at the heavy timbers, followed by a muttered obscenity. And after that—silence, indicating he had gone.
And as she was lifted from the sofa and set on her feet: ‘I fear,’ Zac Belisandro said lightly, ‘that he is a little put out.’
CHAPTER FIVE
SHE FELT AS if she’d been turned to stone, unable to move or to speak. She told herself it was a nightmare. That it had to be, because anything else was impossible. She couldn’t have let herself be deceived like this. Couldn’t...
And soon she would wake up in bed, at home and safe. Not here in the darkness, whispering, ‘Oh, please no—please no’ under her breath.
There was the rasp of a match, a brief flare, then, one by one, the tea lights on the table began to burn with a steady flame.
Zac was turning to look at her, his dark eyes glittering mercilessly. Making it all terribly, horribly real.
Reminding her too that while he was still fully dressed, down to his black tie, she was wearing nothing but a few inches of lace.
She snatched up the crumpled skirt lying at her feet and held it clumsily in front of her, although she knew it was far too late.
Because he had already seen and touched altogether too much, and she knew that, without Adam’s arrival, the lace would also have gone, leaving her naked. Knew too that she would never live down the shame at her own stupidity—or the indisputable fact of her body’s incredible, unforgivable eagerness to give him anything he might ask.
She didn’t recognise herself—this creature subject to her flesh’s urgency as if some dam of sensation had been breached by his mouth—his hands.
This man of all men.
When she could speak, she said hoarsely, ‘Why? How could you do this?’
He shrugged. ‘Why not? You were on offer and charming virgins are a rarity. You can hardly blame me for yielding to temptation when I overheard Adam making this romantic assignation.’
Her voice shook. ‘You are totally vile. You disgust me.’
‘I am desolated,’ he said. ‘I thought you were enjoying my attentions.’
‘And I was not—on offer.’
‘Ah,’ he said softly. ‘Then you believe you are in love. Well, perhaps you are, but not with Adam.’
‘You know nothing about me,’ she said stormily. ‘Nothing.’ And only realised how ridiculous that sounded when he began to laugh.
‘I know far more, mia bella, than your supposed inamorato. And but for his inconvenient interruption, I would have learned everything—so let us not pretend otherwise.’
Rage and humiliation were boiling within her. ‘Oh, God, I only wish I could scrape off the skin where you’ve touched me.’
His mouth twisted. ‘An ambition as foolish as it is painful. And impractical. Just be glad you have yet to make the ultimate surrender, and when you do, make sure it is with the right man.’ He paused. ‘In more ways than one.’ His tone became brisk. ‘Now get dressed and go home before you are missed.’
As Dana hesitated, his brows lifted. ‘Or would you prefer to stay while we explore together the night’s infinite possibilities?’
‘That’s the last thing I want, now or ever. Even before tonight I thought you were loathsome.’ Her voice was breathless in its intensity. ‘Do you imagine if I’d known—if I’d had the least idea—that I’d have let you anywhere near me?’
‘What a question,’ he said. ‘And one that perhaps neither of us can answer.
‘But now I will ask you something. Why didn’t you know I was not Adam? And if your physical acquaintance with him is so limited, why were you here at all?’
‘Because he’s decent and honourable,’ she said defiantly. ‘And I trust him.’
‘Ah,’ he said softly. ‘Then there is no more to be said. So put your clothes on and let us bring this little comedy to an end.’
Comedy, she repeated in silent incredulity. He had ruined everything for her and thought it was funny?
She said, ‘Not with you watching.’
His ironic glance said it all, but he turned his back while she pulled on her skirt and fumbled with the little pearl buttons. But even when they were safely fastened she felt no more dressed.
Zac did not spare her a second look, busying himself instead with tidying the sofa cushions before unlocking the door and walking back to blow out the tea lights.
When he turned and saw her waiting by the door, his brows lifted. ‘Do you wish me to escort you back?’ he enquired sardonically. ‘And if so can I hope for the usual reward of a kiss?’
‘No—on both counts,’ she returned curtly. ‘You have the key and I need to return it.’
‘I shall do that and suggest, perhaps, that it is kept somewhere more secure.’ He paused. ‘Before you go, Dana mia, a word of warning. Mannion is no place for you. You should leave. Set yourself free to find a future elsewhere and begin to live.’
She said thickly, ‘Don’t you dare tell me what to do. What right have you to interfere—warn me, when by rights, someone should have warned me about you? From now on, stay away from me.’
She turned and walked out into the night, forbidding herself to hurry, aware that her legs were shaking under her and terrified of missing her footing in the darkness in those sandals, because there was no way she could explain a sprained ankle.
There were tears pricking at the back of her eyes and tightening her throat, but she refused to cry in case he was close enough behind her to hear her distress.
She retrieved her key from the flower tub by the front door and let her
self noiselessly into the darkened flat, going straight to her room.
She wanted to have a shower, to wash away his touch, his taste from her body, but she couldn’t risk waking Aunt Joss.
Nor could any amount of soap and water cleanse the memory of being in his arms—how he’d made her feel and—worst of all—what he’d made her want.
So she simply stripped, bundling her skirt and top to the back of the wardrobe to be disposed of later, removed the rolled up coverlet and crawled into bed.
Where, at last, she allowed herself to cry with shock—with disappointment and, above all, shame, forcing the corner of the pillow into her mouth to stifle the fierce animal-like sobs.
How could she have thought he was Adam? The question he’d asked her for which she still could find no answer.
‘Oh, Adam,’ she whispered in total desolation. ‘It should have been you. So, why wasn’t it? Where were you?’
And eventually, worn out with crying, she fell asleep.
* * *
When the alarm woke her, she was almost grateful for the work that would get her away from the house.
Some of the guests from the party were staying at the Oak and enjoying a leisurely Sunday breakfast, so it was almost lunchtime when Dana had finally finished the rooms.
As she lugged the laundry bags downstairs, she found Mrs Sansom waiting for her, unsmilingly, an envelope in her hand.
‘Your wages,’ she said. ‘Which, under the circumstances, is generous. No proper notice. No consideration at all.’ She sniffed. ‘No doubt this job in London will suit you better.’
‘Job in London?’ Dana repeated, her mind whirling. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘That’s not my concern. I have to find a new assistant from somewhere at my busiest time.’ And Mrs Sansom walked back into her office, closing the door with a bang.
Dana had never ridden home so fast in her life. Entering the flat, she saw her school suitcase standing in the hall.
‘Come in here, Dana.’ Aunt Joss’s voice sounded grimly from the kitchen.
She was sitting at the table, her face set.
‘What’s going on?’ Dana asked breathlessly. ‘Mrs Sansom’s just fired me.’
‘No,’ said her aunt. ‘I rang her and told her you were leaving for London today.’
‘But—but why?’
‘Because Mrs Latimer will no longer permit you to remain at Mannion.’ Miss Grantham’s back was ramrod straight. ‘To her horror, she has received a serious complaint about you from one of her guests. He has told her that you have been pestering him—embarrassing him by making unwanted and unwarranted sexual advances to him.
‘He was reluctant to mention it, but felt your behaviour was placing you at risk, and should be dealt with.
‘So, you are to leave immediately.’
Dana made her way unsteadily to the table and sat down on the opposite chair.
Mannion is no place for you.
His words were beating at her brain. Not just a warning, she realised dazedly, but a threat. And now he was using this monstrous lie to get rid of her. To smash her life and her hopes. Because he could...
Aunt Joss was speaking again. ‘I thought my sister had caused me enough shame. Hoped you might have learned from her example, but I should have known that the apple never falls far from the tree.’ She paused. ‘Have you nothing to say?’
It was hard for Dana to speak. Her words seemed to be coming from some bleak bitter abyss.
‘It isn’t true. He—he’s lying.’
Miss Grantham sighed. ‘Naturally, you would say so. But why should someone in his position accuse you without foundation? It makes no sense.’
No, thought Dana. It wouldn’t—unless she told the whole story. And by admitting she’d agreed to meet Adam in secret, she’d simply be condemning herself in a different way.
As Zac Belisandro knew perfectly well...
‘And while I was packing for you, I found these.’ She put the green skirt and skimpy top on the table between them. ‘Where did they come from?’
‘I—I planned to wear them at the party.’
‘As a gatecrasher.’ Miss Grantham shook her head. ‘There’s really no more to be said. We’ll leave after lunch.’
Dana drew a shuddering breath. ‘But this is my home. And what about school? My exams next year?’
‘Actions have consequences,’ said her aunt. ‘Under the circumstances, Mrs Latimer feels totally betrayed and is no longer prepared to fund your education. In future you will have to work for your living.’
She paused. ‘The Heston children have recovered from chickenpox and their mother is still desperate to find suitable help. Mrs Latimer has given me the afternoon off to take you to Bayswater and see you settled.’
She added grimly, ‘She has no wish to see you before you leave.’
Dana was silent for a moment. ‘May I at least say goodbye to Nicola?’
‘Her brother is taking her to stay with a friend in Shropshire. You are now considered as an undesirable influence, and required not to contact her in future.’ She rose. ‘If this seems hard, remember you have only yourself to blame.’
Dana felt sick. ‘Only myself?’ she repeated under her breath. ‘I don’t think so. Because now, and for the rest of my life, I shall blame Zac Belisandro.’
And she’d meant what she said. Seven years had passed but she still blamed him. Still hated him for what he’d done. And for what he still might try to do...
Except she was no longer a vulnerable girl to be scared off and dismissed at his whim, but his match and more.
Rehashing the past changed nothing, so from now on she would concentrate her energies on the present and the future. With Adam.
She awoke much too early the next morning, her brain still programmed to working hours. But it was a day worth waking up for, with sunlight and a hazy blue sky promising real heat later.
She took a leisurely bath then, dressed in white linen capri pants and a loose turquoise top, she went quietly downstairs, letting herself out through a side door to make her way round to the terrace.
The air smelt clean and fresh after the rain and the lawns and shrubs sparkled after their dousing.
All’s right with the world, Dana thought, drawing a long breath deep into her lungs. Or most of it.
And for a while, Mannion was hers to wander round alone, dreaming as she went.
She moved slowly, breathing the scents from the garden, scanning the facade for signs of decay or neglect, although it seemed to have fared better than the interior.
Although the ivy needed cutting back, she thought critically, wondering if she could mention it to Adam, but deciding that a softly, softly approach would be a better alternative. Taking nothing for granted until it became a certainty.
Smiling, she rounded a corner and realised she’d reached the former Orangery, now the swimming pool. She paused for a moment, contemplating the shimmer of the turquoise water through the glass, noticing how it seemed to be turning to ripples, spreading wider and wider across the surface.
And discovered why as she saw a dark head and the movement of a bronzed arm. The easy turn of a lean, tanned body through the water.
So, she didn’t have Mannion to herself after all. There was another early riser.
As she watched, the swimmer reached the side of pool and pulled himself out of the water in one lithe movement.
Naked, Zac Belisandro walked across to a lounger, picked up a towel and began to dry himself.
Dana stood frozen, her heart thudding against her ribs.
Don’t let him look round, she implored silently. Don’t let him see me.
She began to move backwards, one slow step after another, steadying herself with one hand on the wall until she
reached the corner and safety.
She was gasping for breath as if she’d been running, and sank down on her haunches, bending her head and letting her hair fall across her flushed face.
She needed a way to arm herself against the degrading memories of seven years ago. Now, along with everything else she had to deal with the unwanted image of his lean, sculptured nakedness imprinted on her consciousness.
Calm down, she told herself. Regroup. Concentrate on finding a way to re-establish Adam’s interest without alerting the adversary I hoped and prayed I would never see again. Dressed or undressed.
But that was the end of her solitary roam. She couldn’t risk being seen, so she would do her thinking elsewhere.
She dashed up to her room to get her bag and minutes later was driving out through the gates. She took the road away from the village which led instead to Rankins Lock.
She parked and walked down to the towpath overlooking the canal. It was very quiet. The half-dozen narrowboats moored there were silent and curtained, but the nearby café was open, already preparing for the breakfast trade.
Maybe some coffee would clear her head and aid coherent thought.
As she walked in, a woman was busy behind the counter and as she straightened, Dana recognised Janice Cotton. Her instinct told her to turn and walk away, but that would be a sign of weakness.
Everywhere I go, I seem to run into the last person I ever want to meet.
‘Dana Grantham, of all people. What are you doing back here?’
‘Just visiting,’ Dana said crisply. ‘I’d like coffee, please. Black, filter.’
Janice filled a cardboard beaker from the steaming jug on the hotplate and handed it to her.
‘You look as if you’re doing all right,’ she commented. ‘Still with that rich stud you went off with, are you?’
Dana stared at her. ‘I don’t follow you.’
‘The dark dishy guy you sent looking for that manky old bike of yours. Boy, did he get me into trouble with Dad.’
He makes a habit of it, thought Dana, her mouth tightening. She said curtly, ‘That was none of my doing. And we certainly didn’t leave together because I wouldn’t go to the end of the street with him.’
