HIGH TIDE AT MIDNIGHT (25 page)

physical being, but nothing could ease the trembling within her.

'He frightens me," she thought, and in the same moment, 'and I frighten

myself when I'm with him.'

She raised the beaker to her lips and drank some of the chocolate, lowering

the long fringe of her lashes on to her cheeks in case he was watching her

and saw that sudden piece of self-knowledge revealed in her eyes.

'You said you wanted to talk to me,' she reminded him haltingly, as he rose

to his feet, dusting his hands.

He gave her an unsmiling look. 'I hadn't forgotten.'

He looked very tall as he stood in the leaping firelight, and Morwenna had to

resist an impulse to shrink back further into her corner of the sofa. Instead

she took another hurried sip at her chocolate.

He said suddenly and roughly, 'You look like a child with your hair down

your back like that. And that dressing gown. Did you have it at boarding

school?'

She flushed slightly, wondering whether she should remind him that it had

not been all that long ago that she had been at boarding school, and again as

if he could read her thoughts, he said, 'But you are only a child, aren't you,

Morwenna? A spoiled impulsive child who doesn't realise the damage she

can do to people's feelings.'

She set the beaker down on the table behind the sofa. 'That isn't fair.'

'I'm not feeling in a fair mood. And I state only the situation as I see it. Karen

told us tonight that her aunt will not be dining with us on Christmas Eve. The

polite fiction is that she isn't well enough to come. The reality is that she's

been in love with Nick for years, only you and he between you have

revived—apparently deliberately—all kinds of unhappy memories for her.

In God's name, why? So that you can justify your presence here in some

strange way? Or are you still determined to prove that your mother was the

victim of some dastardly plot to blacken her name? Let it go, Morwenna.

Forget about it. Consider Laura Kerslake fully reinstated in the family roll of

honour, if that's what you want, but don't meddle with the past any more.

You don't realise how many people you're hurting.'

Her heart sank. She stared at the flames in silence, remembering how Nick

had asked her to keep her own counsel still.

She said slowly, 'It isn't as simple as all that. The truth has to be told…'

'Are you sure you know what the truth is?'

'I think so. I hope so.' She looked up at him piteously. His face was

shadowed and she could not read its expression, but there was a tension

about the hard, lean lines of his body that was not encouraging. 'Anyway, it

isn't up to me '

He laughed angrily. 'Nick would drop the whole thing now, if you asked him

to.'

She shook her head. 'You don't understand. But if it's any consolation to you,

I deeply regret the impulse that brought me here in the first place.'

'It's no consolation at all,' he said bleakly. He raised the glass he was holding

to his lips and finished its contents in one long swallow. Then he set the

glass down on the mantelpiece, and reached down for her, grasping her arms

and pulling her to her feet. 'Another impulse, Morwenna,' he said as he

lowered his dark head towards hers. 'And God help us both if it's another

wrong one."

For a moment she was tense with panic, then as his mouth touched hers, she

felt herself yield, blindly and helplessly. His arms tightened round her

relentlessly so that she seemed to be fused with him, bone and bone, flesh

and flesh.

When he had kissed her before, she had always been aware of other

elements—his anger, his mistrust. Now she was conscious of nothing except

the indisputable fact that he wanted her. His mouth was warm ravishment as

it moved on hers and his hands held a bewitchment all their own as they slid

over her shoulders and down the smooth curve of her back to her rounded

hips.

'God, but you're lovely,' he whispered raggedly against her mouth. He kissed

her eyes, the delicate line of her cheekbone, the hollows of her ears and the

long curve of her throat, pushing aside the concealing folds of the housecoat

so that he could caress the smooth skin of her shoulder. His mouth trailed

fire on her body and when he lifted her and laid her among the tumbled

cushions on the sofa, she made no effort to resist. He lay beside her and his

eyes travelled over her in a wholly sensual regard that she tried shyly to

meet, her silky hair loosely tangled on her shoulders, her mouth rose-red and

slightly swollen from his passion.

He grimaced half ruefully, and brushed his fingers lightly and caressingly

across her mouth and her own hands rose to clasp his and hold it captured for

her kiss. He stiffened, and snatched his hand away.

'Don't ever do that again,' he ordered.

She smiled up at him, her eyes glinting with sweet provocation, aware of a

new and delicious power. 'Why not? Isn't that how a subject is supposed to

do obeisance to the king of Cornwall?'

An unwilling laugh was shaken from him. 'No,' he said. 'It's this way.' He

drew her to him again, curving her pliant body to the warmth of his, and her

lips parted with sweet abandonment under the demand of his kiss.

She felt as if she was dreaming, but her body's urgency and longing was real

enough. It seemed as if her entire life had been a preparation for this moment

when Dominic held her in his arms and kissed and caressed her as if she

filled his mind to the exclusion of all else.

He held her away from him at last and his eyes searched hers. 'Do you know

I'm nearly twice your age?'

She leaned forward and put her lips lightly on his. 'What's that got to do with

it?'

'Some people might say a great deal. As I said, you're a child. You don't

know what you're doing.'

'Oh, but I do,' she whispered. 'I love you.'

Dominic was very still for a long moment, then he said quietly^ 'You don't

know what you're saying. You've been here for less than a month, and during

the greater part of that time we've fought like cat and dog. It's—madness

even to mention the word love.'

The tone as well as the words disturbed her. She moved a little way from

him, staring up into his face.

'Then what word would you mention?'

He swore softly under his breath. 'Do I have to spell it out for you?' he

demanded roughly.

'No.' She felt suddenly very cold. Karen was the woman to whom his

commitment was made. She was simply a diversion. 'You—you want to take

me to bed.'

'Is it so surprising?' he asked cynically. 'An older, more sophisticated

woman would have recognised this—thing between us for what it was and

not tried to build it into a love story. You've let Nick's old tales about

Morwenna and her Esteban go to your head.'

Hurt, she lashed back, 'Someone older and more sophisticated, like Karen

Inglis, I suppose.'

'Leave her out of it,' he said abruptly. 'She needn't concern you.'

'She concerns you,' she muttered, pleating a fold in her housecoat.

'If you're trying to convey that you're jealous, then I'm not flattered,' he said.

He was plainly irritated, and something else as well that she could not

define. 'God in heaven, because I'm the first man in your life, Morwenna, it

doesn't mean that you have to be the first woman in mine."

The dream was a nightmare now. Stung, 'Who says that you're the first

man?' she hurled at him.

There was a little pause during which she seemed to stop breathing, then he

gave a soft, mirthless laugh.

'So that's the way of it,' he said, half to himself. He reached out suddenly and

jerked her back into his arms, crushing her breath from her. 'You know, you

really had me fooled.' His voice was low and savage, muttering into her ear.

'You must have found my restraint under the circumstances utterly

laughable. My apologies, sweetheart. I'll try not to disappoint you again.'

She began to struggle wildly, beating at him with her hands as his mouth

found hers, suppressing her protests with brutal force. He rolled over on to

her, trapping her kicking legs between his and imprisoning her wrists

humiliatingly above her head with one careless hand so that she lay there at

his mercy.

He rose to his knees, still holding her helpless, and looked down at her. Her

eyes were full of tears, caused by the pain of his bruising grip as well as

shame and fright, and she made a little incoherent noise in her throat as his

free hand pulled open the front of the despised housecoat.

'What's the matter, Morwenna?' His voice reached hermockingly. 'You're

about to give yourself to the man you love—according to your own words.

Or am I not even the first one for those either?'

His hand twisted in the demure neckline of her cotton nightdress and she

knew he was going to tear it.

'Dominic, no, please!' Her voice was choked on a convulsive sob.

'What's wrong?' he gibed. 'Isn't this the way you planned it? Or did you

intend to sweet-talk me into subsidising your trip to Carcassonne next year

before permitting me these intimate indulgences that I intend to enjoy to the

full? Well; don't worry, sweetheart. Play your cards right—be nice to me, as

they say, and you might even get your trip. But on my terms, not yours.'

The nightgown was an old one and it tore easily, baring her to the waist, but

she wasn't even aware what was happening to her.

She said, hardly moving her lips, 'How did you know— about Carcassonne?'

Then, 'I suppose—Karen.'

'She completed my enlightenment on the subject. But my interest was

aroused by a Christmas card that came today and which I opened by mistake.

Frankly it never occurred to me that anyone would be sending you a card

here, so I didn't look at the envelope properly. It was from someone called

Vanessa. She wanted to know if you'd "managed to hook your handsome

Cornishman yet, or whether you'd decided to settle for cash and Carcassonne

instead".' His face was harsh as he looked down at her, not even softening at

the sight of the loveliness his destructive hands had exposed. 'Who's your

handsome Cornishman, Morwenna? Dare I flatter myself that it's me, or was

it my susceptible brother you hoped to catch in your beguiling net? I

shouldn't rely on Mark if I were you,' he went on, unheeding of her little

protesting cry. 'Not long ago he was swearing eternal fidelity to another

unlikely candidate for his affections. But that soon died the death when I put

a few obstacles in his way to test how serious he really was.'

His voice altered, slowed. 'But I'm keeping you waiting, sweetheart. How

unforgivable of me!' His hand cupped her breast, his lean fingers caressing

the rosy tip and evoking a response that she neither could conceal nor

control. And when his lips followed the same teasing, arousing path, a little

moan rose in her throat. And she knew wildly that unless she escaped him

now, she would be lost. She loved him, she wanted to give herself to him,

but not like this. He belonged to someone else and she would never be able

to respect herself again if she allowed him to use her for a cynical, transitory

pleasure.

There was no way she could fight him on physical terms. He was still

holding her so that she could not move, and his lips and hands were slowly

but inexorably destroying any mental barriers she could raise in her own

defcnce. There was only one answer.

She laughed, softly and ruefully. And when she spoke, her voice was

steadier than she had dreamed possible. 'You win, Dominic, as always. I

admit I did hope to persuade you to pay for my art lessons, but the price is a

little too high even for me to pay. I—I'm sorry if I embarrassed you by my

declaration of love just now. It's always proved quite effective in the past,

but obviously I underestimated you. It won't happen again.'

'No,' he said softly, 'I don't suppose it will.' His hand released her wrists and

travelled down to fasten around her throat. 'My God, I'd like to break your

neck!'

'Why?' she asked coldly. 'Because I've deprived you of an hour's

amusement? You can't pretend it would have meant any more to you than

that.'

'I'm not pretending anything.' He let her go and swung his legs to the floor. 'I

suppose I should be thankful that whatever passes for your conscience didn't

prompt you to try and wheedle the money out of Nick.' His lips twisted as he

looked down at her. 'Or were you waiting until the Hewitt-Smyth deal was

finally settled before putting the bite on him? Oh, yes,' he went on

mockingly, as her startled eyes flew to meet his, 'I know all about that. Nick

told us tonight what was in the wind, but I knew before. Alan Hewitt-Smyth

and I were at school together, so it was hardly likely that he'd leave me in the