by Liz Fielding
‘And the dinner jacket was the first thing that came to hand when you opened the wardrobe?’ Sophia Lambert enquired, then laughed. ‘At least stay and have a drink, meet the rest of the family.’ She handed him a glass of champagne and took another herself. ‘It was clever of you to make Nyssa wait. She’s been like a cat on a hot brick waiting for you to turn up and give her what she deserves for running off with your lovely car.’
He wasn’t entirely sure where this conversation was heading, but he had the feeling it would be easy to like Sophia Lambert. ‘And what is that?’
She laughed again. ‘You’re cool, Matt Crosby. Reckless, clever and cool. I don’t know whether to envy my daughter or pity her.’ She touched the arm of a man standing with his back to them. ‘Gil, this is Nyssa’s friend, Matt Crosby. My son-in-law, Gil Paton. Gil, darling, will you take care of Matt for me?’ she said as people continued to arrive, pushing them further into the house. ‘Have another drink,’ she said, taking Matt’s empty glass and putting a full one in his hand.
‘Thanks, but I’m driving.’
‘Don’t. Stay over. We’re having a beach party tomorrow—’ Someone greeted her with a squeal of excitement. ‘I’m sure we can find you a spare linen cupboard,’ she called, as she was swept away.
Gil Paton. The man Nyssa had assumed he was working for. The young hero in the photograph with Nyssa’s father, older now by ten or more years. And married to Nyssa’s stepsister. What the hell did that mean?
‘Good to meet you,’ Paton said, extending his hand in welcome. ‘I’m glad Nyssa invited someone down for the weekend.’
He sounded genuine enough, even perhaps a little relieved. Did he know about the photograph? Or just suspect that he was the object of hero-worship? A pedestal could be a mighty uncomfortable perch.
‘Actually, she didn’t—’
‘Look, just follow the noise,’ he said, waving through the open doors as someone else demanded his attention. ‘She was in the marquee…you’ll find her sooner or later.’
Matt didn’t doubt it. Of course she might tell him to get lost, in which case he’d just have to try and forget the searing memory of her skin, pale and translucent as alabaster against the vivid heat of her hair…
It wouldn’t be easy, he thought, as he stood in the entrance to the marquee and looked around. There were a lot of people dancing, sitting at the small tables drinking, talking, but there was no flash of bright hair to tempt him to join them.
He wasn’t attracted to the crush and sensed that she would hate it too. Out there, in the shadowy dark of the late summer garden, was where he would find her.
The air was heavy with the scent of roses, and as he brushed against an archway that led beyond the formal gardens to a small orchard beyond Matt was showered with velvety petals.
He was tempted to pick one of the flowers and go courting his lady beneath the heavily laden fruit trees. But it was a ridiculous fantasy and one he found easy to resist. Before he offered the lady flowers, he’d make sure of his welcome.
Nyssa, sitting on an old weather-silvered garden seat, had thought she was safe from all interruption. She had appeared at the party, done her duty. After a while she would take another turn around the crowded marquee, smile and dance a little, be polite to people she scarcely knew and didn’t much want to.
For now she was content to sit back and listen to the tiny night sounds, watch the bats flitter through the trees as they chased moths. That was until she heard the rustle of leaves as someone brushed against the rose arch. Then it all came rushing back. That moment in the Assembly Rooms at Delvering, that moment when a man’s hand clamped over her mouth, when his arm grabbed her around the waist and lifted her from her feet.
Out in the woods she would have heard the sound much sooner, but here, with the faint background thumping of the band, the rise and fall of distant voices, she had missed it, and now it was her heart that was thumping, fear drying her mouth as she shrank back into the darkness. Then she heard her name being called, very softly.
‘Nyssa?’
Matt! He’d come! The eager heartleap left her in no doubt how she felt about his unannounced arrival. As the air stilled expectantly it took every ounce of will-power to hold back from launching herself at him, flinging herself into his arms.
But she balled her hands into fists and bit back an eager cry. She had run from him because she didn’t trust him. She had no reason to change her mind about that and she kept very still, waiting for him to leave, willing him to walk away.
Yet she hugged the knowledge that he had come. It was a new feeling, to have someone want her. Whatever else he might be faking, she was sure he hadn’t been faking that.
Matt waited. He was certain she was there, somewhere beneath the trees. Was she hiding because she was afraid of him? Or was this just a teasing game?
Nyssa, listening hard, heard the telltale squeak of damp grass against leather soles. He wasn’t leaving; he was a step nearer. Her skin prickled with the knowledge, her breasts gorged with excitement, a sweet heaviness low in her abdomen invaded her entire being. Was it always like this?
Matt caught her scent. Floral and yet utterly different from the roses. Greener, but heavy and sensual. It should have been wrong for a woman like Nyssa, but it wasn’t.
It was quite dark now. The night had closed around them in the orchard. But, guided by the scent, he became surer. He stopped within feet of her, knew that he could put out his hand and touch her. But he didn’t. He leaned against the gnarled trunk of an old tree and said, ‘I’ve brought your car back.’
Nyssa was practically shaking. She had been expecting him to touch her. Reach out for her. Hold her as he had in Delvering. The cool voice came as a shock. He was still angry with her. He had every right to be angry. Well, if he’d come looking for an apology he would wait a long time.
‘You took your time about it,’ she said, as if she’d been sitting there waiting for him to turn up.
He heard the nervous snatch at her throat, the faint tremor in her voice. The words were casual, but a little too sharp. Beneath the confident, in-your-face manner, he suspected she was shaking.
Well, that made two of them. His pulse was hammering at his throat and it was as if his skin was a size too small for him. Her scent had been a part of him for every waking moment of the last two days, and now he was standing beside her in the dark, so close that he could reach out and touch her. In his mind he could feel the silken white shoulder of her skin, her hair against his cheek, his mouth at her throat.
This was new. The urgency stretching his self-control to breaking point. The certainty that he must wait. First he had to win her trust. Once he had that, anything was possible.
He tightened his fingers, curling them into his palm. ‘I told you, I’ve been busy,’ he said. ‘May I sit down?’ He sensed rather than saw her shrug.
‘Did you bring my handbag as well as my car?’ she demanded as he joined her on the bench.
‘I needed transport, Nyssa. I had to have your keys.’
‘Really?’ She turned to him, her face pale against the night. ‘And there was me imagining you jumpstarting it like some movie bad guy—’
‘That was Plan B,’ he said, cutting her off before she got too near the truth. ‘Keys are tidier.’
‘Well, I’ll get yours and then you can go—’
Nyssa made a move to stand, but he caught her hand in his and as she sank back onto the seat she reached with her other hand to feel for the swollen knuckles. ‘How’s your hand?’
‘It’s fine,’ he said, the words thick in his throat as her fingers sought out the grazes. Absolutely perfect. ‘I met some of your family. Your mother. Gil Paton.’ Her heard her swallow nervously.
‘Really? Did you like him?’
‘Does it matter?’ She didn’t answer. ‘You thought I was one of his men,’ he reminded her. ‘Does he always look out for you?’
‘Not if I can stop him.’
&nbs
p; ‘I think you might need him on this job.’
‘No!’ Then, ‘I don’t want him fussing around me.’
‘Don’t you? Then maybe it’s time you got rid of the photograph.’
She turned on him. ‘That’s a bit low, isn’t it, Matt? Even for a man capable of searching through a woman’s handbag.’
He’d been doing a lot worse than that. But her safety was his prime concern and for that he was prepared to do anything. ‘You challenged me to find you. And you did steal my car.’
‘Rubbish! I borrowed it! You know I did.’
‘I always thought borrowing involved a request that started with the word “please”’
‘And if I’d asked, said pretty please, would you have said yes?’
‘We’ll never know, will we?’ He stood up. ‘But I’m prepared to forget it if you’ll offer me something to eat. It’s been a long time since lunch.’
‘No chocolate biscuits?’
‘Your car wasn’t much of an exchange.’
‘No. A food-free zone.’ From the darkness came the hint of a giggle. ‘I’m sorry, Matt. Of course you must stay and have some supper.’
‘And a drink?’
‘The champagne is flowing like…champagne,’ she assured him. ‘Anything else?’
‘A dance would be nice. Something slow and not too demanding. It’s been a tough week. I’ve got the bruises to show for it.’
‘You’ll have more if you dance with me,’ she warned him.
‘I’ll take the risk,’ he said, stretching out his hand to her. ‘If you will.’ And she took it and let him pull her up beside him.
‘Supper, a drink and a dance,’ she said, quickly. ‘I owe you that much for taking the trouble to return my car.’
Before she could let go, he tightened his grip. ‘I haven’t finished,’ he said.
‘I have—’
‘Not quite, sweetheart. Supper, a few dances, then afterwards…’
‘Afterwards?’ The word was startled from her.
‘This.’ And he pulled her swiftly into his arms, needing to know that he hadn’t imagined the heat.
Nyssa was no stranger to the unexpected. Her life was lived on the edge and she was ready for it. But this was different. Dangerously different. Nothing in all her experience had prepared her for the surge of longing that bypassed all the warning signals, ignoring the lights on red as Matt’s mouth descended like a brand to claim her.
Even as her mind scrambled to action, seeking to formulate some kind of resistance, he released her hand to cradle her face gently between his fingers, kissing her so thoroughly that coherent thought didn’t stand a chance. And her lips parted, surrendered without so much as a token protest. Her mouth was too blissfully engaged on a journey of discovery to take time out to search for words like stop…no…wait…
He’d kissed her in Delvering. In Delvering she had been too shaken, too distraught for anything other than basic reaction. Given days in which to formulate a more studied approach, it seemed her reaction was pretty much the same. Very basic.
‘That’s not afterwards,’ she said breathlessly, after what seemed like an eternity during which he had taken her on a ride that beat anything in the amusement park at the end of the pier.
‘No,’ he admitted seriously. ‘My mistake.’ His mouth kinked in a smile that might have been apologetic, but she doubted it. ‘Sorry.’
‘Sorry?’ She didn’t want apologies; she wanted more!
Matt hadn’t meant to do it. Hadn’t meant to kiss her. He’d sworn he wouldn’t do anything that would put his mission at risk. Keeping Nyssa safe had to come first. But she hadn’t objected. On the contrary. Which was making it doubly difficult to concentrate on the task in hand. ‘I was like that as a boy,’ he said. ‘I always wanted pudding first.’
‘And did you get it?’
‘You’ve got to be kidding. My mother was immovable on the subject. Bread and butter before cakes. No exceptions.’
Nyssa thought he was kidding. She hoped he was, but even so she straightened her mouth, put on a disapproving face. ‘Your mother was right. And I suggest you stick to mineral water from now on, because you’re going to be driving out of here on the stroke of midnight, Cinderella,’ she said, attempting serious affront. Breathlessness, and the certainty that her unrestrained response to his kiss made the effort redundant, left her words without any sting in them. ‘So forget any idea of coming back for seconds,’ she added, trying harder to sound cross.
‘If you insist,’ he said, finding it hard to control the grin that kept trying to break out all over his face. She didn’t mean it. After all, he was still holding her, still had the scent of her body filling his head, could still feel the faintest tremble of her body against his. She hadn’t pulled away, even when she was giving him his marching orders. ‘But it seems a shame to miss out on all that champagne when your mother has already offered me a bed for the night.’
‘Oh, no…’ Oh, yes!
His smile was wry. ‘You’re quite safe, I promise. I may be wrong, but I don’t imagine she was offering me yours…’
‘Don’t you believe it! There are no depths she wouldn’t sink to—’ Nyssa stopped, realising that she was about to betray herself. And Matt Crosby already knew far too much about her.
‘To keep you from casting flirtatious eyes at Gil Paton?’ He completed the stalled sentence for her.
Stunned, she could do nothing to hide her shock. ‘How do you know about…?’ Then, angrily, jerking out of his arms, ‘It’s not like that!’
‘No?’
His voice was so gentle. He was so clever. ‘No!’ And she turned away from him, presenting him with a stiff back. ‘What is it like, Nyssa?’ Matt asked, not in the least fazed by her sudden rejection.
‘You wouldn’t understand.’
‘I might. Why don’t you try me?’
‘You’re a psychologist as well as a journalist, are you?’
‘I’m someone you can trust.’ Parker might not agree, but he wasn’t half in love with Parker. ‘Whatever else I am, you can believe that.’
She glanced back at him, looking over her shoulder. Then she said, ‘Really?’ and the uncertainty in her voice, the unspoken yearning, undermined her defiant posture.
She was so strong for her cause, so apparently in control of her life, yet that one word betrayed a personal innocence that left Matt wanting to take her into his arms and hold her, protect her from the physical and emotional demons that haunted her. But before he could do that he needed her total trust.
‘Really,’ he managed, if a touch hoarsely. Half in love? Who was he kidding?
‘Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?’ she said, and laughed a little shakily. ‘I’d have to be crazy to trust a journalist.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with being a little crazy once in a while.’ He took her hands, turning her to face him as he held them between his, putting everything he felt for her into his grasp. ‘Trust me.’ He needed her to believe in him. If she believed him, it would make it true.
Nyssa couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead she kept her gaze riveted on his hands; they were holding hers tightly, as if he would protect her from the entire world.
Well, he had protected her. He had been there. Gil had come to Delvering not because he loved her, but because his wife had insisted. He’d said so. She just hadn’t wanted to hear that. For years she’d been refusing to listen… And Kitty had insisted only to please her father, who would do anything to keep Sophia from worrying about her troublesome daughter.
She should be gratified that she had achieved such success. She was, after all, exactly what she’d set out to be from the moment her mother had remarried: a problem child. Going on twenty-three, it didn’t seem to be such a great achievement.
‘Come on,’ Matt said, as a burst of laughter disturbed the quiet of the garden. ‘Let’s get out of here. Someone said something about a beach?’
His words seemed to release h
er. ‘You want to paddle?’
‘I want to talk. I want to know what you’re doing about security. I want to be sure you’re safe…’
‘Don’t be boring, Matt. This is a party. You’re supposed to be having a good time.’
‘Maybe I should kidnap you myself. That way I’ll know you’re safe.’ He looked around. ‘It wouldn’t be difficult. I don’t suppose anyone would miss you for a while. Your mother would probably think you were with me somewhere. I get the feeling she’d be quite happy with that—’
‘Oh, all right! You’ve made your point.’ She pulled away and turned towards the path through the shrubbery. ‘It’s this way.’ And she walked off, leading the way towards the small private beach below the house. But when she stumbled in her high heels he caught her, steadied her, and she made no objection to his hand at her waist, even though she kicked off her shoes and walked barefoot down the steep wooden steps.
At that point Matt knew that, consciously or not, she had made the decision to trust him. It didn’t make him feel anywhere near as good as it should have done.
CHAPTER SIX
‘WELL?’ Nyssa demanded irritably, flinging herself down onto the soft sand. Matt sank down beside her, leaning back against his elbows, looking out at a sea silvered by the rising moon. Behind them the low cliff guarded their backs and the feeling of total isolation was broken only by an occasional burst of music carried on the breeze. Siren sounds that temptingly hinted that this was a time, a place, for love.
‘You’ve known Gil Paton for a long time, I imagine,’ he said, casually enough, but he felt an increase in the tension emanating from her like a force field. He wanted to hold her, reassure her… Of what? That everything would be all right? How could he tell her that? He had no confidence in ‘all right’ happening. ‘He served with your father? In the army?’
Nyssa had hoped he’d leave it. Despite giving him his marching orders, she longed for him to take her in his arms and finish what they’d begun in Delvering. Crazy, maybe. But it was a warm night, with a full, lover’s moon over the sea. And they had the beach to themselves.
