by Anne Mather
‘I’ve no idea,’ replied Oliver. ‘The old lady didn’t want to discuss it with me. She just wanted me to break the news to you. I suppose she thought you’d be upset.’
But had that been her only motivation? Oliver couldn’t help thinking that Laura was not some frail blossom, after all. All right, she had just lost her father, but was that a good enough reason for Aunt Nell to involve him?
Laura shook her head. ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘Why would anyone want to break into Penmadoc?’
‘Why does anyone want to break in anywhere?’ asked Oliver a little drily. ‘People die and unwittingly draw attention to themselves. Perhaps the thief, whoever he was, wanted to see what was on offer.’
But he didn’t truly believe that. With its forbidding stone walls and long narrow windows, Penmadoc didn’t invite intruders. On top of that, anyone watching the house would know that there was usually someone at home, and for the robbery—if it was a robbery—to take place on the very evening that both his mother and Eleanor Tenby were out was quite a coincidence.
‘And Aunt Nell didn’t tell you anything more than that?’
‘No.’ Oliver regarded her with rueful eyes. ‘So...’ He drew a breath. ‘What are you going to do about it?’
‘Well, I suppose I’d better give her a ring.’
Oliver frowned. ‘Is that wise? I wouldn’t have thought you’d want to discuss anything with my mother.’
‘Your mother?’ Laura looked confused. ‘I thought you said Aunt Nell rang you.’
‘She did.’ Oliver sighed. ‘But if you ring the house, can you be sure Aunt Nell will answer?’
Of course she couldn’t, and Laura made a moue with her lips. ‘So what do you think I should do?’ she asked, with some reluctance.
‘Well, I think the old lady expects you to go down there,’ Oliver declared evenly.
‘Do you think so?’
Laura looked thoughtful, holding the lapels of her robe together with a nervous hand. The action forcibly reminded Oliver that she was probably naked underneath, her skin as flushed and creamy as the delicate flesh of her throat.
‘I think so,’ he muttered now, feigning interest in the toes of his boots. He rocked back on his heels and then forward again. ‘Well—if you want a lift, let me know.’
‘A lift?’
She looked doubtful and he cursed himself for getting involved again. ‘Yeah,’ he said flatly. ‘I guess I ought to go and see how Ma’s taking it.’ Among other things.
‘Oh, I see.’ She took an involuntary backward step as if he’d actually invaded her space. ‘You’re going, too.’ She swallowed. ‘Well, I’ll probably be leaving after you.’
‘Will you?’ Oliver allowed himself to look at her now, stoking the anger he felt at the casual way she’d dismissed his offer in an effort to stem the flare of desire her slender frame evoked. ‘How do you know when I’ll be leaving? Did I say?’
‘No.’ The colour in her cheeks deepened a little. ‘But— well, I’m sure you have better things to do than wait for me.’
‘What you mean is, you’d rather not come with me,’ retorted Oliver tersely, not knowing why he was making such a thing of it. ‘Why don’t you come right out and say it? What’s the matter, Laura? Are you scared of being alone with me? Are you afraid you won’t be able to trust yourself?’
Laura’s jaw dropped. ‘In your dreams,’ she muttered in a muffled voice, turning away, and although he knew he was being all kinds of a fool for prolonging this Oliver reached out and grasped her shoulder.
‘I used to be,’ he reminded her, swinging her round to face him, and although he felt a pang of self-reproach when she flinched he didn’t let her go.
‘In my nightmares, maybe,’ said Laura harshly, and he gazed at her disbelievingly as his reckless action caused the towel to tumble from her hair.
The vivid tangle of red-gold curls fell about her shoulders, and his throat constricted at the sight. She looked so young, so vulnerable, so much like the girl who’d come to his bedroom all those years ago, that he felt a familiar tightening in his groin. He’d wanted her then, and he wanted her now, no matter how stupid that might be. He wanted to take her in his arms and make love to her. Not as he’d done then, but now with all the skill and experience he’d learned over years of searching for something that he was now afraid he might have had—and lost. Only he had been too young—too arrogant—to realise it.
‘Laura.’ He said her name hoarsely, and, as if realising the whole tenor of the conversation had changed, she moved her head slowly from side to side.
‘No,’ she said, and he could hear the quiver in her voice.
‘Don’t say anything else. I don’t want to hear it. Do you hear? I don’t want to hear it.’
‘Why not?’ It was crazy but he couldn’t stop himself. Moving closer, he let his hand slide to the back of her neck, under the warm folds of her robe. Her hair clung damply to his wrist, but he scarcely noticed. He was too intent on watching her, on watching the way her eyes widened and darkened until they looked more black than grey. ‘You are afraid of me.’ His thumb massaged the skin below her ear. ‘You have no reason to be.’
‘Don’t I?’
There was a curious note in her voice but he refused to acknowledge it. ‘No,’ he said huskily, bending to bestow a warm kiss on the curve of her jaw. ‘I only want us to be— to be—’
‘Friends?’ she demanded breathily, and he decided he liked the heat of her breath moistening his cheek.
‘Lovers, maybe?’ he offered unsteadily, hardly aware of what he was saying with the knowledge of her robe brushing the sensitive swelling between his legs. God, he was hard, he realised; hard, and aching with a need he’d never experienced before. His free hand moved to loosen the cord that held her robe in place, and when the two sides parted he caught his breath at the naked beauty he’d exposed. ‘Oh, baby, you’re beautiful!’
Her breasts were fuller than he remembered, two rounded globes that begged for him to weigh them in his hands. Pointed nipples drew his attention to their rose-coloured areolas, the skin fine and smooth, and as soft as silk. A narrow waist, deliciously curving hips, long, long legs that were crowned with a triangle of curls as vivid as her hair. She was perfect, he thought incredulously. How could he ever have thought otherwise?
‘Satisfied now?’
The words were bitter, but they were tempered by the quaver in her voice and Oliver was not deceived. Sliding his hands beneath her robe, he slipped it off her shoulders. It pooled about their feet as he drew her towards him and he felt an exultant satisfaction as her closeness went some way to easing his aching need. ‘Not nearly,’ he said, rubbing his hips against her, and was gratified when her mouth parted to admit his searching tongue. ‘Not nearly,’ he said again against her lips. ‘God, Laura, we can’t let this get away from us again.’
He kissed her once more, then trailed his tongue along her jawline before dipping to press hot wet kisses on the creamy slope of her breast. He licked one swollen nipple before taking it into his mouth and sucking strongly on the tip. She jerked when he bit her and he knew she was as sensitive to his touch as he was to hers.
His hands brushed the undersides of her breasts before curving over her hips to find the provocative swell of her bottom. She couldn’t prevent herself from arching towards him when his thumbs skimmed the responsive cleft that marked the nub of her spine, and he heard her catch her breath when he parted her legs and found the pulsing petals between.
‘You’re wet,’ he said, his voice thick and triumphant, and, picking her up, he carried her to the bed.
He knew a momentary uncertainty when he saw that her eyes were open and watching him with an odd expression in their depths as he attempted to kick off his boots and unbuckle his belt all at the same time. There was a disturbing lack of emotion in her gaze, but he convinced himself that he was imagining it. She was just as aroused as he was. He’d proved that for himself.
; Achieving his objective, he flung himself beside her, but as he was reaching for her she spoke. ‘Are we going to have sex now?’ she asked in a low voice, and his breath gushed out of his lungs in a crippling rush.
‘No,’ he said, when he was able to speak again. ‘We’re going to make love.’
‘Love?’ Her voice broke as she echoed his reply. ‘You don’t know the meaning of the word.’
Oliver’s arousal subsided as quickly as it had stiffened earlier. ‘What the hell—?’
‘Is that why you came?’ she asked, propping herself up on her elbows, seemingly indifferent to the fact that she was naked as the day she was born. ‘Has there really been a break-in at Penmadoc, or was that just a way of getting in here?’
Oliver swallowed, feeling sick to his stomach. She didn’t even sound like the Laura he knew any more, and he stared at her as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ he muttered, rolling away from her so she couldn’t see his flaccid sex. ‘Of course there’s been a break-in. Would I lie to you about something like that?’
‘I don’t know.’ She paused. ‘Would you?’
‘No, I wouldn’t,’ he snapped, getting off the bed and keeping his back to her as he hauled on his trousers. ‘Don’t be stupid.’
‘But is it stupid?’ She spoke consideringly and he hated the way she was weighing his words before she answered. ‘I suppose it begs the question of what you would lie to me about, doesn’t it?’ She took a breath. ‘Have you lied to me, Oliver? Since I got back, I mean? I’d like to know.’
‘I don’t want to have this conversation,’ he said heavily, wondering if he had ever felt this bad before. He didn’t think so. He zipped up his trousers and fastened his belt. Then, forcing himself to turn back to her, he added, ‘I’ve given you the message. What you choose to do about it is your decision, not mine.’ He picked up his jerkin off the floor where he’d dropped it, deliberately keeping his eyes away from her still too delectable body, and started towards the door. ‘I’m out of here.’
‘Wait!’
Her cry arrested him, and although he desperately needed to put some space between himself and the pathetic mistake he’d just made he halted. But he didn’t look back; didn’t do anything except wait for her to tell him what she wanted, and he heard her scramble off the bed and the frantic tussle she had to put her bathrobe back on.
‘What time are you leaving?’ she asked, and now he did cast a disbelieving glance over his shoulder.
‘What’s it to you?’
Laura shrugged, but the deepening of colour in her cheeks showed that she was no longer as immune to any emotion as she’d appeared. ‘Because—because I’d like to accept your offer of a lift, if it’s still available,’ she said awkwardly. ‘If— if you don’t want to take me, I’ll understand.’
Oliver’s fists clenched now. ‘Oh, will you?’ he said, angry that she could still stir his emotions without any apparent effort on her part. But he had to get a hold of himself, he thought. He couldn’t let her see how badly he’d been affected. ‘Shall we say a little over an hour?’ he asked, playing her at her own game. ‘I’ll pick you up outside the hotel at nine o’clock.’
‘All right.’ Laura’s tongue appeared to moisten her lips and he had to drag his gaze away from its provocative assault on his senses. She paused, and then, as he completed his journey to the door, she added, ‘I’m sorry if you think I’ve treated you badly. I—just don’t like being mauled, you see.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Oh, God, why had she said that?
As she phoned Room Service for fresh orange juice and coffee, she groaned aloud at her own stupidity. Why had she attempted to make any kind of an apology to him? He certainly didn’t deserve it. Aunt Nell might have asked him to tell her what had happened—she had to accept that—but she knew her aunt wouldn’t expect him to turn up at her hotel at half-past seven in the morning. He’d probably anticipated that she’d still be in bed. Had he come here with the express intention of joining her?
She paced restlessly about the room. The nerve of the man! And then to aggravate the offence by pretending he wanted to ‘make love’ with her. Did he think she was a total fool? Well, yes, of course he must. Why else would he have suggested such a thing? He didn’t care about her; he didn’t even care about his girlfriend. No, the only person he cared about was himself.
So why had she taken him up on his offer of a lift? The train timetable was lying in the drawer of the bureau so she didn’t even have the excuse of not knowing what time the trains to Swansea ran. She should have let him go. Proved to him, once and for all, that she didn’t need anything from him. So why hadn’t she?
She sighed. The truth was, she didn’t know why she had asked him to take her to Penmadoc. Unless, contrary to her vain posturings, she did still care about him. It was crazy, particularly after the way he’d treated her, but no matter what she said, what she did, she had never found the happiness with any man that she’d once known with Oliver.
Not that she intended to tell him that, she thought bitterly as she hurriedly doffed the bathrobe and rummaged in the drawer for her underwear. She didn’t spend a lot of time on her hair. It was still damp when she twisted it into a French braid, tendrils falling in bright curls against her pale cheeks. She wore the trouser suit she’d worn to her father’s funeral, a dark blue woollen velour, teamed with a cream silk shell to highlight the neckline.
She was fastening thick-soled boots when her breakfast arrived, and she drank the orange juice and two cups of coffee while she packed a few personal items into her backpack. She only intended to take sufficient clothes to last a couple of days. The time Matthew Neill had given her was running out and unless she intended to ran the risk of losing her job she had to leave for New York before the end of the week. It was not a prospect she faced with any degree of enthusiasm at the moment, but she was not naive enough to think that she really had any alternative.
She was downstairs, informing the receptionist that she was going away for a couple of days but that she was leaving most of her belongings in her room, when Oliver came through the lobby doors. He was now wearing a black parka in place of the leather jacket and she couldn’t help the unwilling thought that dark colours always drew attention to the vivid green of his eyes. He still hadn’t shaved, she noticed grudgingly. But then, why should he? He didn’t care what she thought of him.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked, crossing the floor in lithe, easy strides, and against her will Laura felt her stomach tighten in unwelcome anticipation of the journey ahead of them.
‘Almost,’ she said, turning back to the receptionist, but now the girl was looking at Oliver with warm, approving eyes.
‘Hello again,’ she said. ‘Did you surprise her?’ Then, glancing awkwardly at Laura, she said, ‘Oh, of course, you must have. That’s why Mrs Neill is checking out, I suppose.’
‘I’m not checking out—’
‘No, well—’
‘Bethany—’ Oliver had scanned the name-tag pinned to the receptionist’s jacket and used the girl’s name with a confidence Laura could only envy. ‘Bethany very kindly gave me your room number,’ he said, his eyes warning Laura not to make an argument of it. ‘I told her I wanted to surprise you.’ His eyes darkened. ‘I guess I did.’
Her lips thinned, but she didn’t contradict him. There wasn’t much point, and at least it explained how he’d known where to find her. She didn’t remember giving Aunt Nell the number of her room and she had wondered how he’d found out. But it had been a fleeting thing, and she’d had so much else on her mind at the time that it hadn’t lingered.
‘Going somewhere nice?’ asked Bethany conversationally, but Laura discovered there was a limit to how much she could take.
‘No,’ she said abruptly, and, collecting her handbag from the desk and the backpack off the floor, she turned away.
Oliver’s Jeep was parked outside. She could see it through the swing glass doors
, and as she walked towards them she heard him thanking the girl for her help. She ground her teeth together in frustration, but there was nothing she could do about it. However, when he came after her and attempted to take the canvas bag from her, she held on.
‘I can manage,’ she said coldly, and his lips twisted in weary resignation.
‘Of course you can,’ he said, holding the door open for her. ‘You’ve made that perfectly clear.’
‘Well, what did you expect?’ she snapped, incapable of remaining silent now that they were outside. ‘I suppose you’d prefer it if I was as easy to charm as—as Bethany!’
Oliver grimaced. ‘Well, now you come to mention it—’
‘You—beast!’
‘Hey...’ He opened the passenger door for her to get into the vehicle. ‘Can I help it if you’re jealous?’
‘Jealous!’ Laura’s jaw dropped as he slammed the door behind her. Then, after he’d circled the car and got in beside her, she exclaimed, ‘I’m not jealous! I—I despise you.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ Oliver closed his own door and adjusted the rear-view mirror. ‘I just wish I knew why.’
Laura turned to stare at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was concentrating on pulling out into the stream of traffic that made Park Lane such a busy thoroughfare, and she eventually returned her attention to the tight ball she’d made of her hands in her lap.
In fact, they didn’t talk again until they’d joined the M4 heading west. At this hour of the morning the roads around the capital were busy, but once they reached the motorway the pressure was eased and traffic moved quickly along the three-lane highway. A lot of the vehicles heading towards Wales and the west were of a commercial nature, and Oliver drove almost constantly in the overtaking lane.
‘All right?’ he said at last, when Laura was beginning to wonder if he intended to cover the whole distance without saying a word, and she pressed her lips together and shrugged.
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ she countered, and this time he turned to give her an impatient look.
