Desire was a leaping sheet of flame now, consuming Maria, the erotic furnace their mouths had become only an imitation of an inward eruption of molten passion that seemed to flow outward from the secret heart of her need, enveloping her utterly. She had no identity now, because sensation had torn her adrift from such restraints as intellect, emotion and an awareness of reality.
When Luke moved her back towards one of the couches, she complied mindlessly, letting him pull her down with him and turning in towards him as he drew her across him, supporting her with one arm while his free hand curved round her, instinct or experience guiding him to the concealed zip of her simple dress.
Now she caught a glimpse of his face again as he drew the straps down from her shoulders and found her unencumbered by a bra. Black lashes screened his eyes from her, but his dark coppery face was taut and intent, angles sharpened, flat surfaces hard.
Abruptly, the dark head was bent to hers again, the compulsive brush of his lips against the side of her neck so searing it felt as if they grazed her skin. Maria’s breathing sharpened, uneven little gasps that caught in her throat, and anticipation almost made her groan aloud as Luke’s hand skimmed her ribcage, moving upwards towards the lift of her breasts.
Almost violently, she raised her body, ducking her head at the same time, her feverish lips seeking the scorching lure of his again, the demand for his kiss born out of an intuitive need to let him silence her, so that he might not hear the words and other sounds which would tell him just how complete his dominion of her senses already was.
So he swallowed her small cries, but in the end it was not the safeguard she had sought, because in doing so he fed her the taste of himself once more and left a hunger in her which she sensed would last a long, long time, if not an eternity.
His hand toyed mercilessly with her breasts, as if he had the right; perhaps she had given him the right; as if he owned her and she existed solely for his capricious use. Hand and fingers so delicately possessive, massaging the swollen flesh, sensually squeezing, kneading, fondling, then palm withdrawn, leaving only forefinger and thumb to tug gently at one hardened, burning peak. Maria shuddered convulsively as she felt her nipple rolled between diabolically skilled finger and thumb, the mini-spasm of ecstasy gratifying and tormenting all at once, and ultimately cruelly deceptive because it brought no resolution or peace, only an even deeper hunger that seemed to plumb the deeps of the most secret levels of self.
Passion ruled her, admitting no distractions, thought and emotion denied, anything that was known outside her acute physical awareness merely sensed. She did not consciously know that, with Luke’s swift co-operation, she had rid him of his tie, nor that she was left unaided to tear at his shirt buttons with frantic fingers; and it was only through her senses that she knew when she came to hard flesh and soft springy hair, her palm sliding damply over his chest, fingers catching luxuriously in the light tangle of hair covering it.
The feel of him, the male realities of firmly muscled flesh and taut nipples which her fingertips were discovering, heightened her awareness of his masculinity, her thrill of recognition almost atavistic in its primitive pleasure, and desire reached a pitch so exquisite it was nearly pain. She seemed to be refined or reduced, essential early woman unquestioning of man’s right to dominate, to take, the sexual politics of her century in subjugation to the powerful natural instinct towards surrender, its cost a paltry payment against the ecstatic rewards promised by Luke’s virility.
One of his hands closing over the slender curve of her hip made her lower body stir involuntarily, the increasing urgency of the gyrating movement explicit, both statement and summons, and Maria heard the harsh breath he drew as he absorbed it.
Abruptly, he was motionless as a statue, but still holding her.
‘Must I stop, Maria? And still prove that I believe what you’ve told me tonight?’ A hint of strain was audible in the low murmur. ‘Tell me now, or I’m not going to be able to.’
For a moment she couldn’t react, couldn’t answer him. She lay across him now, cradled in his arms, feeling the slight, delicious abrasiveness of his body hair against one hot cheek as she was held there, his captive, looking up at him uncomprehendingly, her eyes feverishly glazed.
The scintillating white heat of the flame at the core of her being was a governing force, demanding obedience to the passion that had lit it. Her lips moved to plead, but no sound passed them, and she glimpsed the flare of satisfaction in Luke’s smouldering eyes as they flickered to her mouth, which was like a crushed flower now, a red rose, brilliant and vulnerable.
It was that look, almost triumphant, that called up resentment, which in turn restored sanity. Faintly, in some remote crevice of her mind, Maria could recognise and acknowledge the generosity inherent in Luke’s question, but there was no place for gratitude among her present emotions.
‘Yes, please stop,’ she requested him huskily.
Now angry frustration replaced satisfaction, and she experienced a little spurt of apprehension amid the bleak realisation that he hadn’t been speaking out of generosity after all. He hadn’t expected her to make this sort of use of the opportunity he had given her. The pause, the question, had been a mere formality, the token request for permission men used to cover themselves against a variety of possible future accusations.
The reluctance with which Luke released her was palpable, his expression drawn into lines of hostility, and as she sat up, and then stood, Maria found herself deriving a savagely biting joy from the fact that she had surprised him.
He had not anticipated that she would still retain sufficient will-power to deny him when he had asked his empty, ritual question.
To deny herself equally, she acknowledged bitterly, still painfully aware of her body’s aching need for fulfilment as she pulled the straps of her dress up over her shoulders and then zipped it up swiftly.
Luke had stood up too now and was watching her with glittering eyes, either unaware of or unperturbed by the disarray of his own garments.
‘I’m not sure if I can wait the length of time it will take—but since you seem to believe that you can…’ he added in an ironic mutter, and shrugged, the gesture oddly dismissive and yet decisive at the same time.
‘I can wait forever,’ Maria snapped.
It had to be true. She couldn’t live with herself otherwise.
Luke smiled very slightly, as if he knew the desperation that lay behind the words.
‘Just don’t spin it out too long,’ he warned her.
‘You’ve forgotten something.’ Rage, part of it selfdirected because she had temporarily forgotten it too, made her voice shake. ‘I hate you.’
‘My feelings haven’t changed that much either,’ he returned indifferently.
If that was true, it occurred to her that he hadn’t really believed what she had told him tonight, but whether he did nor not, it didn’t alter the central fact that they were never going to be lovers.
But in the state they were in at present, both physically aroused, she trusted neither Luke nor herself should she prolong their presence here alone together in the tempting privacy of this suite.
‘I’m going home,’ she said woodenly, and added, ‘Alone, in a taxi.’
‘Yes, this time I think I might be willing to go along with that,’ Luke conceded drily, his gaze skimming the new lushness of her mouth. ‘The way I’m feeling right now, I’ve an idea that taking you home might prove too much of a temptation—for both of us.’
There was that ring of utter confidence again—completely unfounded. Disturbed, Maria turned away from him as he began buttoning his shirt.
‘You don’t need to come down with me,’ she advised him in a stifled tone as she moved towards the door.
A slight laugh came from behind her.
‘The temptation is always there, but it’s privacy that makes it irresistible. Outside this suite, in a lift—despite the aphrodisiac connotations that have entered our modern mytholo
gy—and among the crowds downstairs? You’ll be quite safe, Maria.’
Safe. It brought no relief. Maria was gripped by a conviction that she would never be safe again, in the sense that Luke had used the word—and it was less he who threatened her than the strength of her own feelings.
CHAPTER SIX
MARIA had finished unpacking and was preparing to shower when the doorbell summoned her.
Her tilted smile put the usual dent, something just less than a dimple, at the corner of her mouth as she pulled on a robe bought only three days previously, sumptuous emerald silk with an elaborate multicoloured dragon embroidered all over the back.
She guessed it would be Nicky Kai, eager to hear her singing the praises of her beloved island once more, and she might be willing to stay and share the light supper she had been planning for herself as it was Sunday, the one evening of the week on which Florian might occasionally make a concession to the fact of his breakfast show slot and retire soon after dark.
The sight of Luke Scott, casually dressed in jeans and an open-necked shirt, drove the smile from her face, but it was his expression and posture, both overtly inimical, that sent a frisson of apprehension running along her nerves.
‘You’re back,’ she realised superfluously, her defences not yet in place because his presence was so unexpected.
Appropriately, he ignored that.
‘All alone?’ The taunt was silkily hostile.
‘As you see.’ Recovering slightly, she managed to sound defiant.
‘Of course, tomorrow is Monday and Jones goes back on air, so perhaps he feels he can’t waste his energy on you tonight.’ Luke emphasised the insult by letting his gaze roam insolently over her robe, just as if he saw through it to the single garment she still had on underneath. ‘Or are you waiting for him now? Was that who the smile was for? You’d sent him upstairs to make some sort of excuse to Nicky Kai? Wasn’t a weekend enough for the two of you, Maria?’
‘You only pretended to believe me!’ she accused him furiously.
She had not seen Luke since he had escorted her out of his hotel suite and seen her into a taxi on the night of the awards ceremony, more than a week previously. Late the following morning he had telephoned to inform her that he would be out of Taiwan for some days as a problem requiring his personal attention had arisen at the commercial recording studio he owned in Singapore. His absence hadn’t prevented her thinking about him, but perhaps she had allowed herself to believe that it would continue indefinitely, hence her shock at seeing him now and the panicky sensation of a shadow falling over her once more, its darkness an almost tangible threat.
‘Whether I believed you or not is irrelevant now.’ Luke had moved into the rug-strewn entrance hall while she was still trying to summon a mood adequate to the demands of the situation, and now he was closing the door. ‘As is whether you were actually telling me the truth, or lying. Quite probably it was the truth, as I can’t think of any good reason for you to have lied…But it’s no longer the truth, is it? For whatever reason, you decided to resume your relationship with Jones—or was it just a weekend fling for old times’ sake? All Penny Seu Chen could tell me when I returned on Friday evening to find you gone was that you and he had flown to Hualien for the weekend.’
He would have had to apply to Penny for that information, Maria realised. The Estwicks were in Hong Kong, Giles having been required to visit the head office of one of their major commercial sponsors to finalise the details of a competition the radio station was shortly due to run for them, and Cavell Fielding had also departed for the Crown Colony a few days previously, telling Maria that whether she returned depended on Luke’s instructions. They had had a farewell drink together, two women who had worked well together without ever abandoning their professional personae, Maria because she had been afraid of inadvertently giving away something that might alert Cavell’s suspicions where Luke was concerned. She knew she had nothing to feel guilty about despite her attraction to Luke, having resisted him, but his relationship with Cavell was none of her business really, and whether Luke finally confessed that he had intended to be unfaithful or. Cavell discovered it for herself, she didn’t want to have to feel responsible for any eventual break-up.
The insulting nature of Luke’s contemptuous attack had lifted Maria’s chin.
‘Naturally it wouldn’t occur to you that there could be anything innocent about our weekend in Hualien.’ She made the words caustically challenging. ‘Such as the fact that it was Nicky’s idea in the first place, because she wanted to show off Taroko Gorge to me as it’s so famous, and that originally all three of us were supposed to go.’
‘Except that, conveniently for the two of you, Nicky remained right here in Taipei.’ It was smoothly disbelieving. ‘Not only do I have Penny’s word for it, but I happened to see Nicky on television last night, participating in a chat show that always goes out live from a studio just two blocks away from our own building here.’
‘That chat show was precisely the reason Nicky sent us off on our own. The invitation to appear on it came at very short notice, and even though she’s no longer modelling except at charity functions, she feels a need to keep in the public eye, so she didn’t want to turn it down, but she insisted that Florian and I should keep to our plans.’
‘Very conveniently, as I’ve said,’ mocked Luke.
‘I don’t have to defend myself to you, or explain myself, especially when you’ve just said that the truth is irrelevant!’ Maria flared.
Abruptly she turned away from him and walked into the apartment’s lounge, not consciously knowing why she did so, but driven by a need to get away from this man and the harshness of his condemnation, which shouldn’t matter to her, because he didn’t matter, but which nevertheless called up a churning confusion of resentment and frustration, as well as a new, unnerving hurt.
As an attempted escape, it was a failure. Luke followed her, the scorn in his voice flowing over her from behind like acid.
‘Couldn’t you wait, Maria?’ he derided. ‘I told you I’d be back, but perhaps I stayed away too long. It was unavoidable, unfortunately. I suppose you got impatient, left alone. Would any man have done, or does Jones still hold a special place in your affections? I suppose he was your first lover, and we all know what’s said about a woman and her first lover. The difference between you and most other women is that not many of them are granted the opportunity to actually indulge their nostalgia, save mentally. Not many would want to.’
‘In view of your opinion of me, it won’t surprise you to know that Irs;ve been out with a couple of the other men from the station over the past week,’ Maria volunteered stormily, halting and then swinging round to face him again. ‘But it probably will surprise you to hear that I managed to resist the temptation to indulge my talent for marriage-wrecking and confined myself to one already divorced man and one bachelor.’
Luke ignored the sarcasm.
‘You went out with them, but that’s all, isn’t it? They don’t really count. It’s Jones who’s in the way here between us.’ Luke paused. ‘So what did you think of Taroko Gorge?’
The abrupt change of subject disconcerted her, but then she felt a measure of relief. Perhaps he had decided she wasn’t even worth despising, although the brooding expression in those dark grey eyes prevented her feeling complacent.
‘Stupendous—spectacular,’ she offered distractedly, forcing her mind back to the mind-fazing wonders of the gorge running between mountains of pure marble and through thirty-eight tunnels, and even spanned at one point by a bridge of marble.
‘Isn’t it?’
Surprisingly, Luke suddenly sounded equally distracted. Maria stared at him standing there, discovering that he looked slightly drawn, while there was a hotness to his eyes now, as if fever or perhaps simply fatigue afflicted him.
An unexpected clenching sensation in the region of her heart shocked her. It had always hurt, merely to see him, but this went deeper.
&n
bsp; ‘Did…did you sort out the trouble in Singapore?’ she asked agitatedly.
But Luke appeared to have recovered almost instantly, and the smile he sent her was lacerating in its mockery.
‘What a wifely little question!’ he taunted before rejection hardened his expression. ‘Didn’t I tell you not so long ago that there was only one area of my life I could countenance sharing with you—and that purely out of necessity?’
It was unexpectedly wounding, and Maria’s eyes darkened.
‘Which will just have to remain a necessity,’ she advised him tightly, conscious of a sudden increase in the perpetual tension between them.
He flung her a savage look and asked abruptly, ‘Do you still hate me?’
‘Yes!’
The fervent confirmation carried all the passionate intensity of the emotion he had always incited, but for a panicky moment Maria couldn’t remember why she hated him, and, when she did, the alien way in which her newly traitorous mind was functioning forced her to wonder why she needed to hate him. It had all happened so long ago, and she had found a successful career for herself in radio anyway, despite Luke’s having caused her to be dismissed from that first job back in South Africa and the subsequent need to abandon her Communications course, and as he himself had pointed out—oh, as she herself had always known deep down, hence her long-ago guilt—she had chosen to leave Johannesburg when her father was dying.
So did it go deeper than that? She had accepted that he had had grounds for dismissing her at the time, considering the state of that little radio station’s finances. Of course, the manner of her dismisal was still grounds for disgust—but hatred? Wasn’t that too extreme, too personal? Unless she felt it because her dismissal from that job had deprived her of the sight and sound of Luke Scott?
Oh, it was impossible! Maria’s entire body was rigid with the force of the wild denial. There was still his present attitude, the endless insults and lack of regard. She could hate him for those, and lose any incompre-hensible hurt they occasioned in the heat of that hatred.
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