Confrontation

by Sarah Holland

  She flushed, plucking at the coverlet.

  'I'm not going to force an argument about last night!' Mark said flatly. 'I suggest we just forget it happened!'

  'OK,' she said huskily, nodding, her face averted and vulnerable, and she knew as well as he did that sweeping it under the carpet was not going to work for either of them.

  His eyes narrowed. 'Well, look at me, damn you!'

  Slowly, she raised her green eyes.

  There was a fraught silence.

  'I've had breakfast,' Mark said tightly. 'Do you want anything?'

  'I'd like some coffee, please,' she said huskily, then, 'We have to leave at around half-twelve, don't we?'

  'Yes. And before we go, we have to discuss an effective strategy for getting Jack Rachey's signature on the contract.'

  'Very wise,' she said, studying his hard mouth through her lashes.

  His eyes narrowed. 'After last night's performance from him, I think he's just enjoying the game.'

  Caroline nodded her agreement.

  'I could say the same about you,' Mark bit out suddenly under his breath.

  'Don't,' she said huskily, pulses leaping with response.

  'Is that what it is?' He took a step forward, bristling with aggression, eyes probing her face. 'A game? If it is, Caroline, I --'

  'I thought we weren't going to talk about last night?' she said on a note of husky alarm.

  His mouth tightened. 'Fine. We won't. Just get up and get dressed!' He turned on his heel, walked out of the door and slammed it behind him.

  She flinched at the slam of that door, then made a wry face. The build-up over these eight months had reached explosion-point. She took a shower, blow-dried her hair, applied make-up and got dressed, choosing a stark navy blue shift dress with a white lace collar.

  When she had zipped it up, she studied it in the mirror. It was short and severe, but very sexy, especially with her hair falling softly over one eye and her long legs lengthened by high black heels. But it was the most professional and starkly tailored dress she had with her, so it would just have to do.

  Mark stared with brooding hostility when she walked into the living-room, his eyes moving restlessly over her, then away. He was on the sofa, strong arms spread out either side, his powerful chest on display.

  Caroline sat in an armchair a few feet from him.

  'Come and sit here,' Mark said, eyes narrowed, and patted the space on the sofa beside him.

  Her eyes met his warily. 'I don't think that's a good idea...'

  'Do as you're told,' he said with an edge to his voice.

  She got up and walked to him, sinking down next to him, watching him through her lashes as she felt the powerful awareness intensify now they were so close.

  Mark watched her with narrowed eyes, then said curtly, 'Pour the coffee?'

  'Yes, sir!' she said tightly.

  He laughed, drawling sneeringly, 'Well, you're the one who's going to be the little hausfrau, aren't you? It'll be good practice for you.'

  Caroline's mouth tightened with fury, but she didn't want another argument with him. She could guess how it would end: in a violently passionate kiss.

  Drawing an unsteady breath, she leaned forward and poured the coffee, aware of his mocking, sadistic smile as he watched her. Suddenly, he opened his briefcase and took out a sheaf of papers, once more the cool professional with a sharp eye for advertising.

  They worked steadily. Mark ordered more coffee at eleven-thirty. Caroline leafed through the story-boards, graphic designs and the contract, and they discussed the account in an air of tension.

  'We're going to have to leave,' Mark said at twenty-five past twelve, and put the documents back in the briefcase, snapping the lid shut. 'You can take this. He'll want to spend most of the time talking to you.'.

  Caroline nodded. 'I'll try to keep the conversation on business. After all—that is the purpose of this weekend.'

  There was a little silence as they suddenly looked at each other, and the flash of desire in his eyes made that excitement sweep through her veins again as she looked at him warily through her lashes. Her heart was thumping. She felt her gaze move inexorably to his firm, sensual mouth. She wanted him to kiss her... quickly, she looked away, swallowing hard.

  Mark said under his breath, 'Get your coat!'

  Caroline got up without a word and walked to her bedroom, getting her coat and sliding into it, her hands shaking. This was going to drive her mad. The sooner this minefield of a weekend was over, the better.

  They went down to the foyer in the lift.

  'Snowing again,' Mark said flatly as they stood inside the foyer doors and stared out. 'We really picked the wrong weekend.'

  'Maybe we shouldn't go,' Caroline said, frowning. 'That's almost a blizzard, and the roads will be treacherous.'

  He shot her a steely look. 'I'm not going through this weekend again!' He pushed open the door. 'I'll get the car! You wait here!'

  Caroline watched him stride off, his black coat blowing in the icy wind as snow engulfed him, blurring him from her view as the snowflakes swirled like a thick white mist.

  Minutes later, the car was inching slowly towards her, its headlights flaring.

  Caroline slid in beside him, shivering, and the interior of the Bentley was below zero, making her breath freeze in front of her as she huddled into her coat.

  'The heater won't take long to warm up,' Mark said flatly, pulling away with a smooth flare of power, eyes narrowed on the hazardous road.

  Caroline peered through the snow. 'It looks dangerous to me. I don't think we should go.'

  'Are you prepared to stay here for another four or five days with me, Caroline?' he drawled mockingly.

  She was silent, staring at his hard profile.

  'I know I said I wouldn't go near you again,' he said cynically, 'but a week alone in a hotel with you would leave me with no alternative. And you wouldn't want that—would you?'

  Caroline lowered her lashes.

  'Would you?' he taunted, anger lacing his hard voice.

  She looked up angrily. 'No!'

  He gave a harsh laugh, then drawled cynically, 'No, of course not. God forbid that you should want me to take you to bed.'

  'I don't want you to,' she said tightly.

  'You want me as much as I want you!' he said under his breath, and she had to look away, unable to reply, afraid to argue with him in case he stopped the car and proved it to her. One kiss... that was all it would take.. .just one kiss and she knew she would be unable to resist, knew she would find herself kissing him back, pushing her hands through his hair, curving her body against him with wanton abandon.

  I mustn't let it happen, she thought in despair. I must keep him at arm's length for the rest of this stupid weekend.

  They were crawling along the main road towards Rachey's, and visibility was poor. They passed the occasional car, also crawling along with headlights on. The snow was whirling like a thousand tiny white dervishes.

  'If you weren't already engaged to Daly,' Mark asked coolly, 'would your answer have been different last night?'

  'No,' she said under her breath. 'I still wouldn't have let you make love to me.'

  He gave a cynical smile. 'I meant your answer, Caroline, to my proposition.'

  She looked at him angrily, green eyes hating him. 'Your insulting little offer last night was hardly every young girl's dream.'

  'I don't deal in dreams,' he said flatly. 'I deal in hard facts.'

  'What's so factual about offering to make me your mistress?'

  His brows arched. 'It suits my needs. I want to make love to you, I want to know you're not making love to anyone else, and I want you on call twenty-four hours a day.'

  'My God!' she spat, almost incoherent with fury. 'Will you listen to yourself? Do you have any idea how insulting you are? No, of course you don't! You just say what you want and expect to get it. I'll bet you didn't even think about what you were really offering me!'

&nb
sp; A muscle jerked in his cheek as he turned off the main road slowly, driving along the first of the rabbit warren of little country lanes that led to Rachey's house.

  'I did think about it,' he said tightly. 'In fact I've been thinking about it for months, Caroline.'

  Her lashes flickered in surprise.

  'Don't look so pleased about it!' he drawled, shooting her a steel look. 'Why do you think I threatened you with the sack if you didn't come away this weekend? I'd got to the point where I was ready to offer you the moon on a platter the minute I got you alone!'

  She laughed angrily. 'Asking me to be your paid mistress is hardly the moon on a platter, Mark.'

  'Well, I'm not going to offer marriage!' he said bitingly and his hands tightened on the wheel.

  'Nobody asked you to!' she said defensively.

  'Not much!' he said, his voice like a razor. 'I know exactly what you're holding out for, and you can forget it. Marriage! Don't make me laugh! I'm not the marrying kind and I certainly won't be forced to the altar by a green-eyed seductress like you!'

  Caroline hated him bitterly, watching him as he drove along the narrow lanes, skilfully guiding the Bentley through the blizzard, across snowbound roads. She needed time to control herself, anger racing through her veins, and she breathed thickly, staring out of the window for a few tense minutes.

  Then she turned and looked at him and asked tightly, 'Are we nearly there?'

  A hard smile tightened his mouth. 'Dying to get away from my intolerable company, Miss Shaw?'

  'What do you expect?' she said thickly. 'It was bad enough at the office, but I can barely think straight now!'

  'That's because you want me to take you to bed!' he said tautly. 'Why the hell won't you just admit it, let me do it, and end this stalemate?'

  'Why don't you end it?' she said fiercely.

  'By marrying you!' He laughed, eyes intent on the blizzard as he drove. 'Go to hell! I wouldn't marry you if you --' A snowdrift suddenly loomed ahead of them.

  Mark veered the car away from it. They went into a skid. 'God!' he bit out, grappling with the wheel as it was wrenched from him, and Caroline sat in appalled silence as they spun and slithered crazily across the road, bumping up across the field as snow and grass flew at them and a second later they crashed into a brick wall.

  Splintering chrome and steel and glass went on forever in slow motion as they were both flung forwards with the impact, the seatbelt digging into Caroline's windpipe and making her give a hoarse gasp at the same moment as she heard Mark's thick grunt of pain as he was rammed into the steering-wheel.

  Then they were both jerked back against their seats, and there was a peculiar silence, the wind and snow blowing icily all around them as they sat staring at the brick wall and the mangled wreck of the bonnet.

  'Are you all right?' Mark's harsh voice shook as he leaned towards her, a strong hand touching her cheek, turning her to face him. 'Caroline!'

  'Yes...' She looked up, dazed and shocked. 'And you? I heard you cry out in pain as we hit --'

  'It's nothing,' he said tersely. 'But this isn't. Look at my car!' His mouth hardened. 'Look at this blizzard. We'll be in trouble if we can't get the car to start.' He turned the ignition keys, but the engine didn't even respond.

  Caroline watched him in growing panic.

  'It's dead,' he said grimly. 'Presumably there are bits of engine lying on the ground at this very moment.' He unclipped his seatbelt suddenly. 'Come on. We can't stay here or we'll die.'

  She quickly unclipped her own seatbelt. 'But where are we going to go?'

  'That looks like a farmhouse beyond the wall,' he said flatly. 'I can't see any telephone wires, but at least it's shelter, and maybe the farmer will have a tractor or a Range Rover that can cope with this kind of weather.'

  She shivered, staring at the blurred snowy outline of a small grey stone building beyond the wall. 'It's very small, whatever it is. It doesn't look like a farm to me.'

  'Well, let's find out,' he said, and opened his car door.

  The blast of icy wind and snow made her shiver, but she braved it herself, getting out of the car, head bent against that powerful wind as snow flew blindingly into her eyes.

  Mark's strong hand groped for hers as he came round to her, and pulled her along with him. 'Just keep your head down!' he shouted at her above the sound of the wind. 'I'll lead the way!'

  Stumbling in her high heels, she sank into snow four inches deep and it froze her ankle-bones, made them feel burnt with the cold, her face white and her long hair getting very damp.

  'There are steps!' Mark shouted as they approached the small grey slate cottage.

  Her eyes winced as snow flew into them, but she could see the steps vaguely, and Mark's strong hand in hers helped her up them. She was shivering violently, and her teeth were chattering with the cold as she stood beside him in front of the door.

  He banged on it repeatedly, hunted for a doorbell, and time dragged on and on as no reply came.

  'Nobody's home!' Mark shouted loudly above the howling blizzard. 'The place is deserted!'

  'But there's nothing else for miles!' She felt panic set in. 'I can't even remember the last building we passed!'

  His mouth tightened, black hair blowing wildly around his hard face. 'We'll have to break in!'

  'We can't do that!' she said. 'It's not our house!'

  'We'll die if we stay out here!'

  'We could walk back to the main road!'

  'We'd never reach it, Caroline!'

  Her heart stopped beating as their eyes met and death flashed between them, drawing them suddenly into another world as they stood there and stared at each other while the wind howled and tore at them.

  'I'll break a window!' Mark turned, strode against the wind to the front-room window a short distance away. His fist raised, drew back, then punched a hole through the glass.

  'Mark, for God's sake...!' Caroline ran to him, seeing the blood spurt from his knuckles as the sound of broken glass was just audible above the storm. 'Look at your hand!'

  He brushed her impatiently aside. 'I'm going to climb in. I'll open the front door for you. Wait here!' He opened the window from inside, then climbed on to the ledge and leapt in.

  Caroline went back to the front door, snow stinging her cheeks painfully. She was almost blue with cold, and her feet were so numb that she thought her toes might have broken off.

  The sound of a heavy bolt drawing back came from inside, then the door opened, and Mark was there, hauling her inside with a strong, bloodied hand and slamming the door after her.

  'We're in luck! There's a fireplace in the living-room,' Mark told her as he re-bolted the door against the storm. 'I'll have to repair that broken window somehow, but that shouldn't be too hard.'

  'Let me look at that hand.' Caroline shook snow from her coat, fingers freezing as she stamped her snow-covered feet, sending white ice in all directions to melt on the dark green carpet. 'You're bleeding --'

  'Don't fuss over me,' Mark bit out harshly, turning and striding away from her.

  She followed him into the living-room. An icy wind blew in through the broken window.

  'We'll have to block that hole up.' Mark frowned, looking around.

  'What about that fireguard?' she said, spotting a large rectangular metal fireguard.

  'Perfect,' said Mark, and strode to get it, picking it up and lodging it firmly against the window, sealing it effectively. 'Now, I'm going to explore the grounds, see if there's a car or tractor or anything at all.'

  'Mark,' she said flatly, 'you are dripping blood on to the carpet. Will you please let me attend to that hand?'

  He looked down at once, saw the drops of blood running from his hand to the floor and there was a little silence. Then he looked up and met her eyes.

  Caroline said, 'There must be some kind of first-aid kit somewhere.'

  His mouth tightened, but he gave a hard nod, and said, 'OK. But make it snappy. We don't have too much ti
me if we're going to get out of here before the snow is eight inches deep.'

  Caroline turned and went into the hall, her sense of direction leading her to a small kitchen, icy cold but quite spacious, with a table and four chairs around it.

  It was dingy, so she flicked on the light but nothing happened.

  'The light doesn't work,' she said, frowning.

  Mark stepped back and tried the hall light. 'Neither does this one. It must be a power cut.'

  'Oh, no...!' Caroline sighed. 'That's all we need!'

  'You've obviously never lived in the country,' Mark drawled wryly.

  'On the contrary,' she said, arching her brows, 'I lived in the country until I was twenty-one.'

  He looked surprised, eyes moving over her. Then he said flatly, 'I think we're in luck again. That stove is gas-fired. If it works, we can keep warm, make some coffee before we leave.'

  'Depending on whether or not you find a vehicle of some sort,' she said, and walked to the stove, switched on a gas jet. 'Thank God for that! It works.'

  'I'll stick the kettle on,' he said, walking across the room.

  Caroline started to look in cupboards. 'I'd better find some disinfectant for your hand.'

  He filled the kettle, found a box of matches beside the gas stove, and lit a jet, putting a kettle on it. Caroline found a first-aid tin and walked over to him with it.

  Mark watched her with narrowed eyes as she rummaged around in the tin, producing antiseptic cream and a clean bandage sealed in cellophane.

  'Put your fingers under the tap.'

  With an impatient sigh, he turned and held his hand under running water. When the blood was washed away, she inspected his hand, wincing at the cuts across his knuckles. Caroline cleansed the wounds with antiseptic cream and felt him tense.

  'Does that sting?' she asked.

  'No,' he said flatly, eyes narrowing. 'Now you can stop fussing. I don't want a dressing on it. I want to find a vehicle and get the hell out of here!' He turned on his heel, and strode out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Caroline took the kettle off the boil. If Mark meant what he said, he wouldn't want to hang around for coffee. Bleakly, she explored the downstairs of the house. He had been right about there being no telephone wires and no telephone. There was no way for them to call for help. The living-rooms were similar, but only one had a fireplace, and that was the one Mark had broken into. She wondered where the occupants were, and if they too were marooned somewhere in the snow. The fireplace yielded a scuttle full of coal, a pile of logs beside it, and some firelighters and matches. In the carved wood drinks cabinet she found a plentiful supply of liquor and soft drinks. There were books on the shelves, and two large comfortable sofas. She found some candles and lit four in the living-room, then went into the kitchen and lit another four.