An Expert Teacher

by Penny Jordan

  CHAPTER EIGHT

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  'You were very quiet tonight. Are you feeling all right?'

  As he had done once before, Luke placed his cool hand against her throat, measuring the frantic race of her pulse, but this time she jumped back, her body as rigid as stone.

  'Gemma.' He was frowning. 'What on earth…'

  'Luke, I need to talk to you.'

  They were standing up on deck, in both sight and sound of any of the crew who might happen to walk past. 'But not here. Could we… could we go to my sitting-room?'

  She had to tell him about the gossip. He would be as disturbed by it as she was herself. But what could he do to squash it, apart from sending her home?

  And then she knew the reason behind all the turmoil that had torn her apart this evening. She didn't want to go home. She didn't want to leave him.

  There was scarcely time for the enormity of this realisation to sink in before he was taking her arm, and saying softly, 'Of course, come on.'

  He waited until they were safely inside her sitting-room before speaking again.

  'Now, Gemma, what's the matter?'

  There was no easy way to tell him, and feeling extremely uncomfortable she blurted out, 'The Governor's wife told me tonight that people are gossiping about us… that… that someone… that someone has started a rumour that you didn't bring me here to work for you so much as to…'

  'Share my bed?' Luke finished softly for her.

  Her eyes widened slightly, registering her own inner shock; not because he had anticipated her, but because of the expression on his face. It was at once both derisive and challenging.

  'And is sharing my bed such a difficult thing for you to envisage, Gemma. Why? Because of Hardman or because of what I am?

  'There are some pretty little rich girls who find it quite a turn on to have sex with their social inferiors… "rough trade" our transatlantic cousins call it.' His mouth twisted in taunting mockery as he studied her pale shocked face. 'But obviously you aren't one of them.'

  'Unlike Samantha,' Gemma suggested acidly, suddenly coming out of her stunned paralysis to fight back against the bitterness of his taunts.

  He had changed so quickly from the Luke she thought she knew, to this dangerous, mocking stranger, that she could hardly believe it. And to accuse her of all people of thinking him beneath her! Surely he knew her better than that.

  Immediately she mentioned Samantha's name his eyes narrowed. 'Like Samantha,' he agreed softly. 'Was she the one who started the rumour, Gemma?'

  Her refusal to answer gave her away.

  'Well, well, she's got more intelligence than I gave her credit for.'

  It took several minutes for his meaning to percolate through to her brain, and even then it was only because of the almost insolently sexual way he was studying her body that she realised what he meant.

  All at once her stomach muscles clenched, the breath leaking from her lungs on a thready gasp of shock. Luke wanted her. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, shaking her head in bewildered disbelief as her eyes darkened with pain.

  'Luke, you didn't give me this job just to…?'

  'Just to manoeuvre you into my bed?' he taunted. 'Not entirely, but I won't deny that, shall we say, it was one of the deciding factors.'

  'But…'

  'But what? But a man with my background shouldn't even dare to aspire to such giddy heights; is that what you're trying to tell me, Gemma? That I'm not good enough to go to bed with? But I was good enough to ask for lessons in loving, wasn't I? Did Hardman appreciate what I taught you?' he asked, savagely changing tack.

  'Luke, please…'

  'Please what?' he laughed goadingly.

  'Luke, you don't mean this. You don't want me. You wouldn't even like…'

  'What I'd like, lady, is to roll you on to your back and make love to you until the only sounds coming from that soft mouth of yours are moans of pleasure.'

  The shock of his words reverberated through her entire body, until it seemed to Gemma that no part of her remained untouched by the raw sexuality of them. Instinctively she knew that he wasn't lying and that he did want her, and dangerously her own senses caught fire from his, and without the slightest effort at all, she could oh so easily imagine him making love to her, making her body and her heart sing with pleasure.

  Panic burst through the daze of sudden excitement gripping her, reminding her of how impossible it was for her and Luke to become lovers. She was already too emotionally involved with him; if she allowed him to become her lover… She shivered suddenly, remembering that Luke wasn't a man who wanted any kind of permanent commitment, and she certainly wasn't a woman who could ever enjoy the type of ephemeral affairs that he indulged in.

  No, it was better to stop this thing right now. It would hurt to leave, but how much greater the hurt would be if she stayed.

  Gathering her courage, she took a deep breath and stepped forward. 'I think it would be best if I left, Luke. I'll get myself a seat on the first flight out of the island, and in the meantime I think I ought to book myself a room at a hotel.' She forced herself to look directly at him, and almost flinched as she saw the savage mockery in his eyes.

  'Nice try, but It won't work. You're under contract to me, Gemma, and if you break it…'

  'My contract says nothing about going to bed with you.'

  His mouth tightened and he said harshly, 'For God's sake, Gemma, you can scarcely think that I mean to force you into bed with me.' He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. 'I've never had to force a woman to have sex with me, and I'm not about to start now. If I put my mind to it, I suspect I could quite easily overcome both your scruples and your distaste for my inferior social status, but I won't.'

  'Luke, for heaven's sake, I don't think of you as a social inferior. Surely you must know that? You're putting me in the same mould as my parents and their friends, and I thought you knew that I don't judge people by their position in life or their wealth. I never have.'

  'But you still won't go to bed with me,' he taunted, watching her.

  Gemma bit her lip, wondering what she could say. If she admitted to him that she was already frightened by the depths of her emotional and physical response to him, in his present mood he might just decide to take advantage of her vulnerability.

  'I wouldn't go to bed with any man that I didn't love, no matter what his social and financial standing. That's not the way I live my life.'

  Suddenly his expression changed, lightened, and the smile he gave her was the one she was familiar with.

  'I'm sorry, Gemma. You're right of course.' He turned his back to her and said quietly, 'If you do decide to go home I'll arrange everything for you, but the fact that I desire you was only one of the reasons I brought you out here. There's still a job for you to do.

  A job she wanted to do, Gemma acknowledged, but how could she when she knew that people were gossiping about them? But gossip could only hurt when it was true. She would prove to everyone that she could do the job… She would prove that…

  That what? That she wasn't in the least attracted to Luke? But she was. She had known that this evening before they had quarrelled. Knowing that physically he wanted her made her acutely aware of the fact that she desired him, too. She had known it at home when he had kissed her, but she had deliberately suppressed that knowledge. Now she could suppress it no longer. And what made it worse was that, no matter how foolish she was being, she knew that she was going to stay on the island.

  She took a deep breath and said huskily, 'I'm staying.'

  'Good girl.' There was admiration as well as desire in the look he gave her, and Gemma knew that if he touched her now… if he took her in his arms and kissed her… But he wasn't touching her; he was moving away from her, and when she made an instinctive movement towards him he shook his head.

  'My control is finite, Gemma. Nothing's changed. I still want you. I've wanted you since that day by the river,' he added almost
broodingly, anger flaring bitterly in his eyes for a second as he added, 'That was a hell of a thing to do to a man, you know, to ask him to teach you how to make love to someone else. And there was so much more than how to kiss that I wanted to teach you. I wanted to teach you the pleasure that comes from a man's hands and lips caressing your breasts, I wanted to teach you how…'

  'Stop it. Stop it, Luke.' She was shivering under the onslaught of the frissons of arousal running through her nerve endings, aching for him to follow his words with their actions, and yet knowing that to encourage him to do so would be the utmost folly.

  'But someone else taught you those things… taught you how to appreciate the pleasure of being a woman.'

  Someone else… Gemma's heart caught in her throat as she realised that he didn't know the truth.

  He walked over to the door and opened it. 'Oh, and you needn't worry that I'll go back on my word and make a grab for you. You know that I want you, Gemma. If you ever change your mind it will be up to you to come to me. Is that understood?'

  Ridiculously she found herself nodding her head. What was she doing? Of course she wasn't going to change her mind, and if she had any sense at all she would be on the first flight home. But she didn't want to go home. She wanted… She wanted the impossible, she acknowledged miserably, as the full force of her real feelings hit her. She wanted Luke's love!

  She couldn't sleep, and after trying to for over an hour, she got up and pulled on her clothes, making her way up on to the deck.

  One of the hands nodded respectfully at her as she walked past him. Of course, the crew must work shifts; someone had to look after the yacht and their safety during the night. Even at night the air was still warm, and she went automatically to the seaward side of the Minerva, leaning over the rail to catch what little fresh breeze there was.

  Below her, the sea moved rhythmically against the pristine white paintwork, soothing, lulling. It would be so easy to allow herself to give in to the way she felt about Luke, as easy as it would be to give in to the insidious pull of the sea. All she had to do was to close her eyes and let her body…

  'Gemma! What the hell do you think you're doing?'

  Hard hands jerked her back from the rail, swinging her round and dropping her on to the deck. The shock of it jolted right through her, her eyes opening on to Luke's grim face.

  'I was just watching the sea.' She rubbed at the painful spots on her arms where he had held her.

  'Watching it? Like hell! You were leaning over so far, another roll of the boat would have had you over. Is that what you were trying to do? Death before dishonour?'

  That ugly, bitter sound was back in his voice, and she went to him instinctively, hating herself for being responsible for putting it there, placing her fingers against his lips. They felt warm and hard, sending tiny electric tingles racing through her skin.

  'Luke, you're being ridiculous. I came up here for some air. Perhaps I was leaning over too far, but that's all it was, I promise you. I don't consider making love with you as "dishonour", you know that.'

  The insults and snubs of his early years had scarred him much more deeply than she had known.

  'Perhaps I was over-reacting. Guilt, I expect.' He grimaced slightly. 'You've always had such a quality of untouched purity about you. Even as a child you had it; the security of wealthy parents who can afford to shield their children from reality.'

  'Not always. Just think how many sons and daughters of wealthy parents abuse themselves with drugs.'

  'Your parents didn't want you to come out here with me,' he said, abruptly changing track,

  'My parents don't make any decisions for me, Luke.'

  'So it isn't because of them that you…'

  'Don't want us to be lovers?' She was standing so close to him that she could see the tiny lines raying out from his eyes. He moved slightly and in the yacht's dimmed lights she saw that he was barefoot.

  As he followed her gaze down his body he said drily, 'I saw you up here just after I came out of the shower.'

  Gemma's skin burned suddenly as she realised that the jeans he was wearing were damp in places, obviously from his skin. He had pulled on a shirt, but it wasn't fastened, and the clean scent of his body was doing odd things to her pulse rate.

  'I should have been honest with you right from the start,' he said wryly.

  If he had been, would she have come out here with him? she wondered.

  'Instead…'

  'Instead, you decided it was a case of once aboard the lugger, and the girl is mine,' Gemma teased lightly, her sense of humour suddenly surfacing.

  He laughed. 'Now you're insulting me. Gemma; nothing as obvious as that, I assure you. You've always been able to make me laugh,' he added on a more sombre note. 'I think you're the only woman I know I like and respect as a person almost as much as I desire you.'

  Yes, Gemma could sense that. Luke didn't want any woman to get too close to him, so he kept his respect and friendship for those he didn't desire, and chose only to take to his bed those with whom he knew there would be no cerebral contact.

  Now wasn't the time to ask why he was so anti-commitment, and besides, she suspected she already knew the answer. She remembered that she had once asked him about his parents, and he had told her that his mother had married beneath her and that she had deserted her husband and son when Luke was three years old.

  His father had been a car mechanic, forced to leave his son shut up in his bedroom during the day while he was out at work, because he could not afford to pay anyone to look after him.

  One day his father had suffered an accident at work and had been taken to hospital, where he fell into a coma and eventually died, but it had been three days before a neighbour decided to investigate the noises from the supposedly empty house, and had discovered the terrified three-year-old, locked in his room for safety by a father who had feared to allow him the run of the house in case he touched the cooker or a fire.

  The social services people had tracked down Luke's mother, but she had refused to take charge of the child. She wanted to forget all about her marriage and her son, so Luke had been taken into care.

  Deep down inside, he probably still distrusted people, Gemma suspected, and that was why he refused to commit himself to a relationship.

  She suspected that he was probably more relaxed and forthcoming with her than he was with other people because of their earlier friendship. A special bond had been forged between them then that nothing could break: a bond that had enabled her to trust him enough to ask him to teach her how to kiss; a bond that had been strong enough for him to do so without taking advantage of her innocence and inexperience.

  But now they were adult, and Luke still wanted her. She touched his face again with gentle fingers and felt him tense as he growled hoarsely, 'For God's sake, Gemma, I'm not an emotionless computer. Touch me like that, and I'm going to react. In fact, touch me at all, and I'm going to react,' he admitted frankly, making her shiver with reciprocal desire, and even though she knew she was doing the very thing she should not, Gemma moved closer to him, placing her hands on the smooth flesh of his shoulders.

  'Gemma.' She could feel the sound of his groan moving his chest as her fingertips automatically smoothed the exciting heat of his skin. She bent her head and touched her lips to his throat, not knowing until that moment just how much she had wanted to touch him like that. Beneath her mouth she felt the rigid movement of his muscles.

  'Gemma.' His voice was harsh with tension. She knew that she should stop, that she was doing something that was both wrong and dangerous, but the huge yellow moon and the soft sighing of the sea against the hull of the yacht wove a spell around her that she didn't want to break.

  Just one kiss, she told herself; just one kiss would harm neither of them, but when it came and Luke's mouth opened over hers in famished, passionate need, she knew that she was wrong and that she would be hurt.

  But it was too late to stop even if her body had let her,
and so instead she gave herself up to the voluptuous heat flooding through her body, opening her lips to the demanding thrust of Luke's tongue as it mirrored the fierce movement of his hips against her body.

  She had had no idea that a kiss could be so sexual, that she could feel this savage clawing need to be closer and closer to him, to want to absorb him completely within her.

  There was no thought in her mind of holding back. She welcomed the heat of his hand beneath her blouse as he caressed the fullness of her breast. His thumb stroked the hard point of her nipple and beneath his mouth she cried out in pleasure. One of them was shaking… both of them were shaking, she acknowledged. And then, so abruptly that she could hardly credit it, Luke was pushing her away from him.

  'They're changing the watch,' he told her thickly. 'Come down to my cabin, Gemma.'

  God, how she wanted to go with him, but now that he had stopped touching her, sanity flooded back. If he made love to her… If he made love to her he would bind her to him even more. She would be desperately hurt when the time eventually came when he grew bored with her. She didn't think she had the strength to endure that sort of pain. No, it was better to call a halt now.

  'I'm sorry, Luke, I can't do that.'

  She could have wept for the expression of pain and bitterness in his eyes, but it was too late to call back the words, even if she had wanted to.

  'I suppose I should have expected that. What happened, an attack of conscience? Remembered Hardman, did you?'

  Gemma didn't answer, seizing on the escape avenue he had given her. If he thought that she and Tom Hardman were more than mere acquaintances then…

  'I should have taken you here on the deck,' he sneered nastily. 'You were certainly willing enough to let me. More than willing.'

  Gemma felt her face burn, but she couldn't deny that he was right. She had wanted him to make love to her, had invited it, in fact, so she bowed her head beneath the painful lash of his scorn.