Stormspell (18 page)

With hands that were not quite steady, he unfastened the button on her skirt, then bent his head to trail a path of kisses across her midriff and down to her navel. There was innate gentleness in his touch, and she was hardly aware of what he was doing until she felt the coolness of the night air against her heated flesh, and his hand probing the inner softness of her thigh.

'Oh, Dominic . . .' she breathed, as he eased her legs apart, and his mouth silenced any protest she might have tried to make.

With growing urgency he removed the rest of his clothes, releasing the pulsating evidence of his manhood. Poised above her, he knew a moment's agony before he sought their consummation, but it was too late then for him to draw back. He wanted her, he was astounded at how badly, and with a groan of submission, he gave in to his body's demands.

Ruth, despite her arousal, was not prepared for that ultimate invasion. When he lowered himself upon her, she panicked, and her fists battered
^-
against his chest in blind terror.

'No—no, you mustn't!' she breathed, turning her head this way and that, but Dominic captured her quivering chin between his fingers.

'I must,' he told her huskily, his lips calming the words of protest that spilled from her tongue, and the momentary shock of his entry was softened by his warm mouth.

The pain, and there was pain to begin with, brought the tears to Ruth's eyes, but Dominic's tongue captured them and soothed her childish fears. 'Relax,' he said, caressing her fluttering lashes, and cautiously, incredulously, she let herself acknowledge the intimacy they were sharing. Celeste had not been lying, she thought disbelievingly. All her stories had been true, and it was not the furtive, sordid thing she had foolishly imagined. It was a wonderful feeling of belonging and sharing, of being completely whole for the first time in her life, and she wanted the moment to last.

When Dominic started to move inside her, she was half inclined to protest. She didn't want him to move, she didn't want him to leave her, she wanted to prolong these minutes of intimacy that they might never share again. Yet almost immediately she sensed that he was not drawing away from her. His movements compelled a response that sent the blood like liquid fire through her veins. He was exciting her, and as he did so, an enveloping warmth began to surge through her, searing her in its heat and enfolding her in a wave of fiery emotion that made her want to move with him, to arch herself against him, and promote a closer fulfilment yet. A kind of wildness gripped her, and the low moan of pleasure that reached her ears came from her own throat. Unable to think of anything but him, she wound her arms around his neck, raking his back with her nails, twisting and turning beneath him, urging him on and on until a frenzied explosion burst within her. She glimpsed Dominic's sweat-streaked features in the moment before he buried his face in her hair, and then a delicious languor spread to every nerve and sinew, replacing the frantic emotions of minutes before. She felt her balled fists uncoiling in the sensuous aftermath of feeling, and it was at that moment she realised exactly what she had done.

Nothing could protect her from the sense of chill that swept over her then. With an objectivity she had not known herself capable of, she saw herself as her father might see her, and was appalled. Wanton; shameless; abandoned; she was all of those things and more, she thought sickeningly, and yet nothing could deny she had wanted Dominic's love, and the passionate assuagement of his possession.

Dominic's body was a heavy weight upon her, and wriggling urgently, she endeavoured to free herself from him. It wasn't easy. He didn't want to let her go. and he protested lazily when she tried to thrust him away from her.

With a feeling of panic, Ruth eventually had to voice her frustration, and her plea at last had some effect.

'Please,' she begged, 'let me go. I—we—I have to get back. Daddy will be desperate to know where we are.'

Her words seemed to achieve her objective, because after a moment's hesitation Dominic rolled away from her. spreading his hands in a gesture that implied she was free to do as she liked, but making no attempt to join her.

Ruth scrambled to her feet, avoiding looking at his unashamed nakedness. But all the while she struggled into her clothes, she was aware of his lean, muscular form stretched on the sand beside her, and knew a feeling almost of incredulity that only seconds before they had shared a closeness she had innocently assumed could only be found in marriage. And yet even that wasn't entirely true. She had not believed two people could share such sensations, and for a fleeting moment she recalled the way he had made her feel in nerve-tingling detail. She had not known such feelings existed; but she also perceived with sudden insight that maybe only Dominic could make her feel that way.

She turned to look at him then, meeting his lazy gaze with troubled eyes. If it were true that only Dominic could give her such pleasure, might it not then follow that only she could please him?

Licking her lips, she sought for words. 'Dominic—'

But before she could say any more, he sprang abruptly to his feet and began to pull on his jeans. He presented his back to her as he zipped himself into the close-fitting pants, and then bent to pick up his shirt before turning to look at her.

'I know.' he said heavily at last, buttoning the shirt with impatient fingers. 'We have to get back. I guess we've only been away a little over an hour. Maybe Celeste has managed to stall your father.'

'Stall?' Ruth was confused, but Dominic only shook his head.

'Come on,' he said, shoving his feet into canvas shoes, and brushing the sleeve of his shirt down over his bandaged arm. 'Can you manage? I'll go and start the motor.'

'No—that is—wait!' Ruth caught his sleeve, and then dropped her eyes before the penetration of his. She sighed. 'Dominic. I—I just wanted you to know, it—it was good.'

Dominic's eyes narrowed. 'Ruth.' he muttered, half angrily, 'I don't think we should discuss this.'

She looked up then. 'Why not?'

'Why not?' he echoed, taking a deep breath. 'Why not?' He shook his head. 'Well, how about because it should never have happened?'

Ruth hesitated. 'But it did.'

His long fingers raked the hair at the nape of his neck. 'Goddammit. I know that.'

'Dominic. I just wanted to tell you that it meant a lot to me—'

'Ruth!' He spoke in a driven tone, obviously disturbed by her innocent attempt at reassurance. 'Ruth, it happened. It was good. But it's over! And the sooner we both forget it. the better.'

'Forget it!' Ruth was astounded now. 'Forget it? Dominic, how can you say that? It—it was the most wonderful thing that ever happened in my life—and you tell me to forget it?'

Dominic scuffed his toe in the sand. 'Ruth. oh. Ruth, what can I say to you? You were an innocent, and I took advantage of you. Some gratitude for saving my life, wasn't it?' His tone was bitter. 'I'd have served you better dead!'

'No!' Ruth was appalled. 'No. that's not true—'

'It is true,' he muttered savagely. 'You don't seem to understand, Ruth. What happened—I never intended to happen. I knew it could. I knew there was always the danger, particularly when you showed me that day on the beach exactly how responsive you were. But I hoped I'd have more will power, more
sense!
Instead of which. I let my senses rule my head, and lost my mind completely.'

'But you wanted to make love to me. You said so.'

'I know I did. And it's true. You've been a constant temptation. Even now—' His eyes darkened. 'Ruth, let's stop this. Go back to the bike. I have to think.'

She was puzzled. 'But. Dominic, why can't we talk about it? I mean—we have to talk about it. don't we? It—it happened.' She paused. 'It was meant to happen.'

Dominic stared at her. then he shook his head. 'I doubt that.' he said heavily at last. 'I doubt that very much.'

Ruth licked her lips. 'You mean, you wish it hadn't?'

He sighed. 'Yes—and no.' He shifted restlessly. 'Ruth, you must know how I feel. Try and understand. I don't want to hurt you, but—'

'Hurt me?' Somehow, she managed to hide the sense of shock his words were generating. She had known that what they had done was wrong. In that first aftermath, she had tasted the bitter flavour of her own betrayal. Yet. even then, she had fought back the painful suspicion that all was lost. In reliving those moments, she had justified them, temporarily at least; but now Dominic's words were reviving the frightening awareness of her own vulnerability.

'Ruth, if there was some way I could show you—'

'Don't bother.' Her response was choked now, broken, strangled by the effort to control her feelings. but when he would have touched her she drew stiffly away.

'I'm not so immature,' she continued, and the longer she spoke, the stronger her tone grew. 'Don't imagine I expect you to—to marry me or anything. I don't. In fact, I have no desire to marry anyone.'

'Ruth—'

His use of her name was a groan, but she ignored him. continuing doggedly: 'As a matter of fact. I should be grateful to you. Until—' her voice shook, 'until tonight, I was naive. I know that. Celeste— Celeste is always telling me so—'

'Celeste!'
Dominic repeated the black woman's name with a savage intonation, but again Ruth would not be deterred.

'She—she said I should learn one day, and I have—' she continued, but this time Dominic would not let her go on.

'Stop it!' he muttered, grasping her arms, resisting her frantic struggles and thrusting his face close to hers. 'You're not like Celeste!' he snapped. 'Don't ever imagine you are.' He expelled his breath frustratedly. 'Ruth, you're a brave and beautiful young woman. Any man would be proud to ask you to be his wife. Unfortunately,' and now his face twisted in an ugly grimace, 'unfortunately, I do not have the right to claim that privilege. You see, I'm already committed to marrying someone else!'

Dominic awakened with a pounding head and a sour taste in his mouth. It was difficult to focus on the face of the clock on his bedside table, but gradually the hands swam into view, and he groaned at the awareness of how late it was. He could already hear his father's scathing admonitions ringing in his ears, as he rolled on to his back, and he closed his eyes again against the shaft of sunlight filtering through the blinds.

It was no use lying here, however, he thought wearily, pushing back the bedcovers and swinging his long legs to the floor. But the pounding in his head increased as he endeavoured to stand up, and he dragged himself dispiritedly to the end of the bed, to gaze, red-eyed, at his haggard reflection.

He looked a mess, he thought disgustedly, noting the lines of sleeplessness above his cheekbones. His face looked gaunt, and with a night's growth of stubble on his chin, he had a distinctly debauched appearance. Evidence of the amount of alcohol he was consuming lately, he decided grimly, and reaching for the wine silk dressing gown tossed carelessly over the bedrail, he groped to put it on.

The sudden tapping at his door brought his head up, and guessing it to be his mother he called: 'Come in.' But the face that appeared tentatively in the aperture was Ginny, his mother's secretary, and as he struggled to cover his nakedness, she giggled a little behind her hand. She was a plump, pretty girl, in her early twenties, a little immature, Dominic surmised, but his mother seemed to like her. She made no secret of her attraction to her employer's son, and Dominic suspected she would not be averse to a more intimate relationship. But he had no interest in her, though her attempts to draw his attention amused him.

'Good morning, Mr Dominic,' she said now, after he had secured the cord of his robe. 'Mrs Crown asked me to tell you she would like to speak to you before you leave for the office.'

'Oh, would she?' Dominic inclined his head, guessing his mother would not expect Ginny to come to his room. But Ginny, as usual, chose to be provocative. and she lingered now, even though she had delivered her message.

it's after eleven,' she volunteered, as if the time had some bearing on her errand. 'You're late again, Mr Dominic. Would you like me to fetch you some breakfast?'

'No, thank you.' Dominic was polite but firm. 'I'll have some coffee with my mother. I'm not hungry.'

'You really should eat something,' Ginny persisted, lingering in the doorway. 'I read somewhere that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Puts a lining on your stomach, it does. Are you sure you wouldn't like some toast and marmalade?'

'Thank you. Ginny, I only want to get dressed,' Dominic retorted shortly, if you don't mind.'

'I don't mind, Mr Dominic.' Her eyes flirted with his. it's just so good to have you home again. You were so lucky fetching up on that island, weren't you? I don't know what your mother would have done if anything had happened to you.'

'Well, nothing did,' observed Dominic dryly. 'Thank you, Ginny.'

'Your arm's fully recovered now, isn't it?' she persisted. 'Mrs Harrington says you'll always have the scar, but I suppose that's nothing compared to what might have happened.'

'Ginny—'

'I've never seen a scar like that. Could I see it?'

'Not now,' Dominic informed her shortly, and crossing the room determinedly, he took charge of the door, leaving her no alternative but to step outside.

Half an hour later, showered and shaved, and tastefully attired in a silver-grey business suit, with a matching waistcoat and silk shirt, Dominic presented himself at his mother's sitting room. This room was on the first floor of the spacious Georgian town house his parents owned in Curzon Terrace, and like the rest of the building it bore witness to Isobel Crown's taste in design and furnishing. Tall darkwood cabinets framed an elegant Adam fireplace. Sofas, upholstered in delicately-woven tapes- try-work, echoed the print that hung in silken panels on the walls, and rose silk curtains at the long windows billowed dangerously near the matching bowl of tea-roses that provided a feast of colour on the polished surface of the piano.