by Penny Jordan
The touch of his hands and mouth was unbearably erotic, but it wasn't enough. She wanted more; she wanted… A small sob tore at her clenched throat muscles, and as though he understood her need, his body moved even closer to her own, his muscled thigh moving between her own trembling legs.
The weight and heat of him offered a brief panacea to her need, but it didn't last long. She arched pleadingly against him, and cried out in savage, fierce pleasure as his mouth found the peak of her breast, and drew fiercely on it.
Her head buzzed, her heart was thudding, her body was on fire with arousal and desire.
'Marcus…'
'Yes… Yes…'
His voice reached her, thick and unfamiliar. His hands trembled where they touched her skin.
Outside in the street a car backfired, and abruptly Diana came to her senses. With a soft cry of pain she pushed Marcus away from her, quickly covering up her half-naked body.
'Diana…'
She felt sick with self-disgust and embarrassment. 'Please go, Marcus…'
Even her voice was trembling.
'No, damn it, I won't. I want to know what it is that makes you keep on rejecting me, when we both know that you want me as much…'
'No!' The tortured denial was ripped from her throat, leaving it raw with pain. 'No… You made me want you, Marcus. I…'
He ignored the trembled words, swearing savagely. 'Like hell! You wanted me… just like you wanted me that first night.'
'No… No… I hate you, Marcus.'
It was the cry of a lost child, and she saw his mouth twist with the comprehension of that fact.
'Why?' he taunted. 'Because I can make you forget your husband? Do you know what I'd like to do, Diana? I'd like to make you forget that any other man existed.'
The vehemence in his voice stunned her.
'I'd like to make you forget everything but how you feel when I touch you. I'd like to make you forget…'
'That I'm carrying another man's child.' She had to stop him, she couldn't endure much more.
She saw his face go white, and watched the bleakness sear his eyes. 'I have a commitment to my child, Marcus. I can't enter into an affair with you—I don't even want to. I've already told you that. In future, please, leave me alone.'
She turned her back on him, and bit deeply into her bottom lip to stop herself from calling back the words.
'I came here tonight intending to apologise for what I said to you the last time we met here,' Marcus said slowly. 'But it doesn't matter what I do or say, does it, Diana? You're determined to keep me out of your life. Is that really what you think your husband would have wanted? Was he really the kind of man who would want you to live like a nun for the rest of your life?'
'What makes you think I intend to?' Diana lashed back bitterly. 'You're so arrogant, Marcus. You seem to think that just because you want me, I should want you in return.'
'You do want me.'
'No,' she lied brutally. 'I just want a man—any man. It's something to do with the baby. It affects me that way.'
'You're lying.'
She had the feeling that if she moved he would spring at her like a wild animal. For the first time since she had known him she felt frightened of him. She had pushed him too far. In her fear of betraying herself she had said too much. She turned her head away from him, unable to speak, trembling with fear and anguish. A single tear formed and ran down her cheek.
'My God, what are we doing to each other?'
She heard the anguish in Marcus's voice and felt shamed by it. She was the one who was to blame for this. She was the one responsible.
'I'm going now, but I'm not going to give up,' he warned her. 'Somehow there must be a way of getting through to you; of proving to you that life goes on. I know you want me, Diana, and whatever you say, I know you're no wanton.'
'Why…?' she cried out in anguish. 'Why me? Why not one of the girls that Ann keeps throwing at you?'
'I wish I knew,' he told her sombrely. 'All I do know is that there hasn't been a single night since we met when I haven't woken up and longed to have you in my arms.'
She realised as she heard him leave that what he had just said was true for her as well. She had fought against knowing it, against admitting it even to herself, but it was true. She wasn't sure yet what she felt for him, but what she did know was that it must be ruthlessly and instantly crushed.
Only it wasn't as easy as that, as she soon discovered. It was Kath who told her that Marcus would be in charge of the men responsible for setting up and providing the equipment for the fete.
'It makes sense, of course, since we're using his land. You'll find him a terrific help.'
She didn't want his help, she told herself rebelliously as she walked back from the Vicarage. It was Friday afternoon, and by evening the decorators should be finished.
Tomorrow she was having dinner with Ann and her husband, and it suddenly struck her that she had nothing fit to wear. Her pregnancy was really beginning to show now, and it was time she bought some proper maternity clothes. If only she could have got out of this dinner, but it was impossible to back down now.
It was six o'clock before the decorators finished. Roger came up to the pub to take Diana down for a final inspection of their work.
The mural was an undeniable work of art. Cheeky-faced rabbits and other woodland creatures peeped from behind toadstools; a fiercely frowning dragon fought valiantly against a knight in armour; a flight of crazy stairs led over the drawbridge and into the castle. A wicked-looking witch peeped from one corner, where she tended her bubbling cauldron.
On the opposite wall, another mural depicted scenes from outer space for the more sophisticated tastes; laser beams and space craft of all types filled the darkness of deep space. Diana gazed at the walls in silence.
'Well?' Roger asked her.
'It's fabulous—just what I wanted. The only problem is, the kids are going to be too busy looking at the murals to pay attention to the books.'
The idea of having the murals had originally been that they would capture the children's attention, and allow their parents to browse, but now Diana hoped that what they saw on the walls would spark off a desire to read about what they were looking at.
'It really is fabulous,' she praised the waiting trio. 'I can't tell you how pleased I am.'
After they had gone she went over the house from top to bottom. Only one room had wallpaper—the nursery—and she had chosen a soft pastel-coloured paper with a nursery frieze. Roger had painted a deep blue sky ceiling with clouds floating on it to match up with the wallpaper. It was too soon yet to buy any nursery furniture, but she already knew what she wanted.
On Monday her carpets were being laid, and later in the week the curtains and furniture would arrive. By next weekend she should be in, and then she could concentrate on sorting out the shop. Already the store room at the back was getting filled with boxes of books. She would have to put an ad. in the local paper for an assistant; perhaps a girl not long out of school.
She walked back to the pub, and was just on the point of entering her room when the landlady caught up with her.
'There's a message from Ann for you. She said to tell you that Mr Simons would pick you up tomorrow evening, to save you driving.'
Diana went cold all over. What on earth was Ann trying to do? She longed to pick up the phone and cancel the whole thing, but how could she? Was Ann attempting another matchmaking exercise? She almost ground her teeth with impatience. Every time she saw Marcus it seemed to weaken her willpower. Every time she saw him she ached to tell him the truth. Sometimes she even found herself fantasising about what his reaction would be if she did. Part of her wanted to lean on him, she realised; part of her yearned for that close communication they had shared; part of her wanted him to share her joy in their coming child, but it was only a very, very tiny part. She didn't really want any sort of commitment with anyone else. Losing Leslie had hurt too much for her to risk losing anyone
again. Perhaps she was being illogical, but that was the way she felt, and nothing could change it.
She had made love with Marcus on a wave of intense emotion that had blotted out everything else, and deep within her lingered the fear that somehow Marcus himself could still conjure that emotion.
She didn't want that. She wanted to live her life free of the pain that came with loving.
But she was carrying his child. A child she already loved. That was different, she told herself stubbornly; loving her child was safe in a way that loving Marcus would not be.
Loving him. She shivered and pushed the thought away.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Marcus arrived right on the stroke of eight. From her bedroom window, Diana saw the Daimler drive into the car park and stop.
When Marcus got out her heart all but turned over. He was dressed formally in a dinner suit, its darkness reminding her almost unbearably of the first time they had met. He had been dressed formally then, too.
Almost as though he could sense her watching him he looked upwards. She stepped back from the window immediately.
She was wearing a new dress. A floaty creation in soft pastel-hued silks that she had bought that afternoon from a rather up-market maternity boutique she had discovered tucked down a side-street in Hereford.
In addition to the dress, she had bought herself two pairs of serviceable dungarees from Mothercare, and some comfortable flat shoes.
Her pregnancy was only just beginning to show noticeably, and the cleverly cut panels of the dress were flattering. Its short sleeves revealed her tanned arms, her hair seemed to shine with a new lustre, and her face glowed. She looked the epitome of a healthily and happily pregnant woman, Diana knew, and if it wasn't for Marcus she knew that she would be.
She went downstairs to meet him with great reluctance. He was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. His smile was friendly, but nothing more.
What had she expected? she asked herself as he escorted her out to his car. That he would take her into his arms and start to kiss her passionately in front of everyone?
She went automatically to the front passenger door of the car only to realise that it was the rear door that Marcus was holding open for her.
Puzzled, she got inside, and then realised that she and Marcus weren't travelling alone.
A pretty blonde-haired girl sat in the front passenger seat. She turned round to smile at Diana and introduce herself.
'Hi! I'm Patty Dewar. I've heard all about you from Ann and my folks.'
'Patty's parents are old friends of Ann's. You'll meet them tonight. Patty's father is our local solicitor.'
Patty wrinkled her delightfully retrousse nose and flashed Marcus a sweetly ingenuous smile. She couldn't be a day over twenty-one, Diana thought acidly, but even so, surely the wide-eyed ingenue act was overdone. She looked at the slim, pretty hand clinging to Marcus's arm, and was shocked at the wave of dislike that ran through her.
'I'm just home on a flying visit. I'm at drama school— RADA. Daddy nearly blew a fuse when I told him I wanted to act, but luckily Mummy was all for it. If darling Marcus hadn't come to my rescue tonight I'd have had to stay in moping. He's such a sweetie-pie.' She blew a kiss in Marcus's direction, while Diana looked on, totally bemused by her own feelings of irrational jealousy. Marcus had a perfect right to date whoever he wished. Only yesterday she had been privately bemoaning the fact that his attention seemed to be focused on her, but now that he had so obviously found consolation elsewhere, she found herself bitterly resenting the presence of the other girl.
'I was supposed to be flying to the South of France this weekend with some friends, but it was cancelled at the last moment, so I came home instead. When Marcus heard that I was all alone there, he insisted on bringing me with him.'
She batted eyelashes which could never in a million years have been natural, in Marcus's direction.
It was true that he seemed totally unmoved by her kittenish behaviour; phlegmatic would have been the closest description to his unreadable expression, but he had quite obviously invited the girl to partner him tonight.
She ought to be pleased that he had finally decided to give up pursuing her, Diana told herself. Only she wasn't; she felt both jealous and resentful of the other girl's presence, and for the first time she was conscious of the clumsiness of her pregnant body, when compared to the lithe slenderness of the girl in the front seat. Only five years or so separated them, but she made Diana feel like Methuselah.
Her artless chit-chat was full of references to people that Diana didn't know, and peppered with 'do you remembers', including the cleverly revealed fact that there had been occasions when Marcus had dated her when he was in London.
'I was so sorry to miss you the last time you were up, darling, but it was unavoidable.'
Swivelling round in her seat, she said to Diana, 'Marcus sometimes goes to London in his role as local representative for the farmers round here. We normally manage to get together, but the last time he was up I was away with friends. Did you miss me?'
Her fingers stroked down his black sleeve, and Diana found herself gritting her teeth. If nothing else surely it was dangerous to distract Marcus from his driving like that.
Not that he showed any sign of being distracted, she noticed, other than a small smile.
When he made no reply, Patty pouted and said sulkily, 'I suppose that means you didn't. Honestly, Marcus, you're incorrigible. I suppose you picked up some horsy type and spent the whole evening flirting outrageously with her,' she accused nastily. 'Marcus is the most appalling flirt, you know,' she threw over her shoulder to Diana. 'But I suppose you've already learned that.'
Was that a warning?
'Not really,' Diana responded coolly, permitting a rather tight smile to curl her mouth as she added, 'We hardly know one another well enough for me to make such judgments.'
In the driving-mirror she saw Marcus looking sardonically at her, and she could feel herself starting to flush. Damn him, why did he have to make her so painfully aware of him, and what they had shared?
As though one unpleasant shock wasn't enough, Diana discovered when they arrived at Ann's that contrary to her expectation she had been paired off with a widower friend of her hosts.
Ian Michaels was a pleasant enough man, but he was well into his fifties, and his conversation was limited to his business dealings. Diana found her glance straying almost continuously to the group which included Patty and Marcus.
Ann came up to her at one point and smiled when she saw where she was looking.
'Patty used to have the most dreadful crush on Marcus. He was so patient with her. She's outgrown it now, of course, but I think it's rather floored Marcus to discover what a very pretty girl she's grown into. He's just at that age as well when he could easily fall for someone pretty and giddy.'
Diana didn't know what to say. Her throat had gone dry and seemed to be blocked by a hugely painful lump. She wanted nothing more than to run out of Ann's drawing-room and not come back.
She felt as bereft and miserable as a child suddenly deserted by its parents. Where only yesterday she had demanded that Marcus leave her alone, now she longed for his presence at her side. She was behaving like a dog in a manger, she derided herself, but knowing it didn't help. She was still perversely jealous and resentful of Patty's presence at his side.
Ian Michaels kept up his monologue throughout the meal, with Diana interposing the odd word here and there. What made her feel worse was that everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves.
The dining-room was large enough to seat a dozen people, and Ann was obviously an experienced hostess. The conversation flowed around her, leaving her feeling excluded and alone. She told herself that it was her own fault for not joining in, but every time she took her attention off Ian, all she could hear was Patty's light chatter, and Marcus's deeper response. Because she wasn't using her own car, she was even denied the time-honoured excuse of leaving early becaus
e she wasn't feeling well.
After dinner everyone congregated in the drawing-room, where Ann served coffee, assisted by her eldest daughter. Patty perched provocatively on the arm of Marcus's chair, and since they were sitting right opposite her, she could not even avoid looking at them.
'You look dreadfully tired,' Patty called out to her as Ann served their coffee. 'Poor you, pregnancy is such a dreadful strain on a woman, isn't it? I should hate to be on my own with the sole responsibility for my child. And, of course, it isn't every man who will take on another man's child, is it?'
There was a small, rather charged silence, broken only when Mrs Dewar said in a flustered voice, 'Patty, really…' She cast an apologetic and embarrassed glance at Diana and said, 'I'm awfully sorry about that. Patty never stops to think before she speaks.'
Diana longed to be able to reply truthfully, and tell Sally Dewar that, contrary to her words, it was her own private belief that Patty had known exactly what she was saying.
Were there other people who thought she was looking for a husband—any husband? Her mouth tightened slightly, and she got up. Ann had gone back to the kitchen to refill the coffee-pot and Diana followed her there.
Fortunately, Ann was alone.
'I'm awfully sorry, but I'm afraid I'll have to leave. Patty is quite right, being pregnant is draining. I don't want to disturb anyone else, so could I ring for a taxi?'
'Oh, there's no need for that, Marcus will take you home.'
Diana shook her head firmly. 'No… I don't want to disturb him.'
She felt the door open behind her, and swung round half expecting to see Marcus, but instead she saw the plump shape of Ian Michaels standing in the doorway.
'I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave, Ann, my dear,' he apologised. 'I've got an early flight to Paris in the morning.'
'Oh, Ian, you're just in the nick of time. Diana wants to leave, too. She's feeling rather tired, and she's on your way…'
