Sweet Surrender (8 page)

‘You mean you were pregnant?’ he said quietly.

‘No.’ She shrugged. ‘In the circumstances the scientist in me knew that was highly unlikely. Which didn’t stop me from feeling afraid I might be.’

‘Didn’t the idiot use protection?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Kate looked away. ‘Unfortunately it—it wasn’t equal to the occasion.’

Alasdair swore softly and sat down again to put his arm round her. ‘Which must have resulted in weeks of purgatory for you.’

‘Not that long, actually. Lorenzo, my sister’s husband, called in his personal friend, Dr Bruno Tosti. Due to Bruno I knew straight away that I wasn’t pregnant, and the blood tests he took proved that I was suffering from nothing else more terrifying than mild anaemia.’ Kate leaned against him as she felt him relax. ‘Jess insisted I stay with her until I felt better. So I spent the summer taking iron pills, eating good food, playing with my nephew and lying in the sun.’

‘What happened when you got back to Cambridge? Did you meet up with Romeo again?’

‘No. He was a year ahead of me, thank heavens, so he’d left by then, which made things easier in some ways.’ She sighed. ‘But life was hard in others because there were two things missing from it. You, for one. The other was my enthusiasm for research. Which, dear
reader, is how I come to be teaching little darlings of both sexes in Foychurch.’

Alasdair pulled her closer. ‘So now I know the whole story. Or is there more I should know?’

She twisted round to look up at him. ‘You don’t
have
to know anything about me, Alasdair Drummond. I wouldn’t have embarked on my life story tonight if I hadn’t had the silly idea of seducing you. I must remember not to do it again. It never turns out well for me.’

‘As an experiment,’ he reminded her sardonically. ‘I’ve had more flattering offers.’

‘I bet you have!’ Kate looked at her watch and stood up. ‘Time I was off. Which is a pity. This fire is too tempting to leave.’

‘Do you have to leave?’ he said, getting to his feet.

‘Are you offering me the use of your spare room?’

‘If you insist. But the bed’s more comfortable in mine.’ He smiled down at her. ‘Not that I have a hope of persuading you to join me in it, of course.’

‘You give up too easily,’ she said rashly, and found herself yanked hard against Alasdair’s chest.

‘Fighting talk,’ he muttered, and turned her face up to his.

This time, her emotions running high after her revelations, Kate’s mouth responded so passionately to his that in seconds they were straining each other close until the inequality in their height threatened to overbalance them. With a smothered laugh Alasdair picked her up and sat down with her on the sofa again, still kissing her as he bore her back into the cushions. He slid his hands into her hair to look down into eyes which gleamed up at him, molten gold in the firelight.

‘Do you know,’ he said, in a tone that sent shivers
down her spine, ‘what this seductive hair of yours does to me, Kate?’

She stretched against him deliberately. ‘Do I have nothing else to recommend me, then?’

‘Your eyes. Your mouth—’ He backed up his statement with kisses, and went on kissing her until she was restless and breathless in his arms. ‘And these,’ he said hoarsely, as his hands slid up beneath her sweater. She clenched her teeth to stop them chattering as he released the catch which delivered her breasts naked into hands which cupped them so that he could kiss the satin-skinned slopes. Alasdair took such a long, savouring time over it that when his lips found her expectant nipples at last she gave a smothered gasp, and dug her nails into his back through his shirt. At the precise moment the exquisite torture became unbearable Alasdair moved his mouth back up hers, his tongue penetrating as he spread her hair out on the cushions. On fire from head to foot by this time, Kate thrust her hips against him, her body vibrating with need and anticipation against his.

‘Do you mean it?’ he demanded hoarsely.

She nodded mutely, and he got up, bent to put a guard in front of the fire, then turned back to pull her to her feet and lead her from the room.

To Kate it was an increasingly unreal experience to go hand in hand with Alasdair up into the darkness of the upper floor. So unreal that somewhere along the way she lost her urgency. She kept looking up at his tense profile to convince herself that this was really Alasdair, dream lover in the past, but now soon to be lover in fact. But when she stopped dead, in disbelief at the prospect, Alasdair picked her up and carried her the rest of the way. He sat down with her on his lap on the edge of the
bed in his room, and Kate looked up at him, her eyes enormous in the semi-darkness.

‘Changed your mind?’ he whispered.

Feeling it was too late now, even if she had, Kate shook her head.

‘Are you sure?’ he said huskily.

‘Oh, well, if you’re going to argue about it—’ She gave a smothered cry of protest as he tossed her onto the pillows and let himself down on top of her, taking her breath away.

‘I never argue with a lady,’ said Alasdair. And, giving her no time to recover, he undressed her with the speed and skill of someone familiar with the task, laughing indulgently when she turned her back as he stripped off his own clothes. Kate lay with her head buried in the pillow, no longer sure about this at all. This was Alasdair, she reminded herself. What if she disappointed him? It had happened before. Then she gasped as he flipped her round and held her against his naked, aroused body. At which point Kate discovered that her own body had turned into one great erogenous zone from head to foot. She shivered, and clutched at him with feverish hands, and Alasdair laid her flat and knelt over her, fighting for control.

‘Wait,’ he said breathlessly, and slid his hands into her hair to look down into her eyes. ‘I want this to be as beautiful for you as I can make it, Kate. And different. So lie still, darling—at least for a while. Let me love you as you should be loved.’

Kate gave a deep sigh, and submitted herself to the bliss of the moment as he kissed her. It was a long time before his mouth left hers at last to make a slow, arousing journey downward to set her on fire again as his lips and fingertips caressed her sensitised, quivering nipples,
sending streaks of fire down to the part of her which dissolved in anticipation as his mouth moved lower. She tensed, her breath tearing through her chest as his fingers probed to test her readiness, then her eyes opened wide as he found the hidden core of her response.

Kate gave a hoarse, disbelieving little cry as waves of sensation coursed through her and Alasdair held her close, murmuring such gratifying things in her ear she opened dazed, disbelieving eyes at last, straight into the molten gleam in his.

Quick to read her mind, he smiled in reassurance. ‘It is me. And this is you. And it did happen. Keep looking at me, Kate.’ and with one smooth, sure thrust he entered her and held her still.

Kate lay unmoving for long, breathless moments, gazing up at Alasdair as her body adjusted to the throbbing reality of their union. Then her eyes widened in surprise as she felt her innermost muscles clench round him in response. Instantly he thrust deeper, and kissed her open, gasping mouth, his hands threading through her hair as he began to move in her and with her, coaxing her body to answer his, his patience so absolute that at last Kate lost hers, and arched against him in imperious demand. He responded fiercely, the rhythm of their loving mounting as it grew wilder and faster until she cried his name in disbelief as she climaxed, and he crushed her close as he surrendered to his own release.

Almost at once Alasdair rolled over, taking her with him to hold her close in his arms, his cheek on her wildly dishevelled hair.

‘This,’ he whispered, pulling the covers over them, ‘is where I ask “how was it for you”?’

Kate thought it over, waiting until her breathing was normal enough for her to answer. ‘Different,’ she said
at last, pushing her hair back from her eyes. ‘So different that it’s hard to believe it was the same basic process as the other times.’

‘Times plural?’ he said sharply, and reached out to switch on a lamp so he could see her face.

‘Well, yes. It’s a long time since the anonymous Romeo.’

Alasdair propped himself on an elbow to look down at her. ‘So you’d already made one experiment. One that you’re telling me about, anyway.’

‘I didn’t think of it as an experiment. I met Julian when I was doing my teacher training.’

‘And?’ prompted Alasdair coldly.

‘For a whole term we got on very well. A fine romance, kind of thing. Not exactly no kisses, but certainly no bed.’ Kate sighed. ‘But when I got back to college after the Christmas break he asked me to marry him. When I said yes he required a more physical relationship.’

Alasdair drew her close, his lips against her cheek. ‘Was it a repeat of the first time?’

She shook her head. ‘It couldn’t be in one way, obviously. And at least Julian seemed to enjoy it.’

‘But you didn’t.’

‘Not much. It seemed only polite to try to fake it. But that didn’t work. So by half-term the affair, if you could call it that, was over.’ Kate sighed. ‘Julian wasn’t interested in being just friends. Which was a pity, because I was fond of him. And after that I decided sex was just too much trouble to bother with.’

Alasdair kissed her fleetingly. ‘And how do you feel about it now?’

‘Astonished.’ Her colour rose as her eyes met his. ‘As
I’m sure you could tell, there was no faking involved this time.’

He laughed, his eyes triumphant. ‘I know. And now, my dear Miss Dysart, I’m going to prove it was no fluke.’

And to Kate’s surprise and ultimate rapture Alasdair did as he said, taking so long over the process she was driven to pleading with him by the time he engulfed her in such an overwhelming cataclysm of pleasure that she fell asleep in his arms afterwards.

She woke to the touch of his caressing fingers in her hair.

‘Darling,’ he whispered. ‘It’s getting late, and its raining cats and dogs out there. Ring home and say you’re staying the night.’

Kate shot upright, blinking and yawning as she looked at her watch. ‘Eleven!’ Conscious of her nudity, she scrambled out of bed in ungraceful haste. Alasdair watched with deep enjoyment. ‘I must go,’ she said, frantically searching for her clothes.

Alasdair slid to his feet and pulled on a dressing gown. ‘You can’t drive home in this. Besides, we have things to talk about.’

‘But I
must
go—’ she began, then frowned. ‘What things?’

‘What happens next,’ he said, taking her by the shoulders.

Kate stared at him blankly. ‘But I told you. I drive back to Foychurch tomorrow.’

‘I know that,’ he said impatiently. ‘I’m talking about us, Kate. Where do we go from here?’

‘I thought you were coming to see me next week.’

Alasdair gritted his teeth, and gestured towards the bed. ‘Did you hear any of those things I said just now?’

Kate looked away, but he jerked her head back.

‘To refresh your mind, Katharine Dysart, I said I loved you.’

Her eyes fell. ‘I assumed that was just good bed manners.’

‘You obviously have a lot to learn on the subject.’ said Alasdair coldly. ‘It happens to be something I’ve never said before.’

‘Not even to the lady in New York?’ she said tartly, forgetting she was naked.

His eye narrowed to slivers of steel. ‘No. Nor to anyone else until tonight. So pay attention. I love you, Kate. In some ways I did even back then, at Cambridge. But now it’s different. You’re a woman, and I want you. I’ve no intention of losing you a second time.’

Kate looked at him in such unflattering disbelief Alasdair turned away.

‘Since you’re obviously not going to stay the night you’d better get dressed,’ he flung over his shoulder.

Kate made some hasty repairs in the bathroom, pulled on her clothes, and borrowed Alasdair’s brush to tame her hair, her mind working overtime. At last, when she could put off the moment no longer, she went down the stairs Alasdair had left brightly lit for her and found him in the kitchen, making coffee.

‘If you’re determined to drive home,’ he said curtly, ‘you’d better drink this first. And give your parents a ring before you start out so they don’t worry.’

‘I always do that,’ she said defensively.

They sat at the kitchen table in tense silence, facing each other over steaming mugs of coffee.

‘So,’ Alasdair said at last. ‘I rushed things, obviously.’

‘And astonished me.’ She eyed him uncertainly. ‘Did you really mean what you said?’

His eyes kindled. ‘It’s hardly a joke! So perhaps you’d be kind enough to tell me how you feel about me.’ He smiled mirthlessly. ‘One thing you must admit, Kate. The experiment was a success. You wanted to know if sex could be something you enjoyed, and unless you’re the best actress never to win an Oscar you did enjoy it. With me,’ he added significantly.

‘I did,’ she said without hesitation. ‘It was bliss, Alasdair. But I never expected you to bring love into it. I used to dream that you would once, of course. But the dreams stopped dead after my farcical bid to make you jealous.’

His face set into a blank mask. ‘By which I take it my sentiments are not returned?’

‘They are to some extent,’ she admitted. ‘I admire your intellect, I like and respect you, and physically you turn me on like no man has ever done before.’ She braced herself. ‘But I’m not in love with you any more, Alasdair.’

T
HE
silence was so absolute in the room Kate was sure her gulping was audible as she drank her coffee. As a conversation-stopper, she though morosely, her last words had been a wild success. But she had meant every one of them. Her feelings towards Alasdair had changed long before meeting him again. She knew only too well that the embarrassing, painful incident which put paid to her famed virginity had been entirely her own fault. But, strive as she might to be rational, some errant part of her brain still held Alasdair to blame for it.

After a while Kate could bear the silence no longer, and got up. ‘I must go.’

He rose to his feet, looming over her as he eyed her in a way which had little to do with the love he’d been declaring shortly before. He held out the jacket he had ready for her, and she slid her arms into the sleeves, wishing she had a magic wand to wave to get herself out of here and back home into bed right that minute.

Alasdair turned her round and zipped up her windbreaker, then smiled in a way that rang alarm bells in Kate’s head. ‘Despite our slight difference of opinion, darling, unlike your former lover, I shan’t give up so easily.’

She frowned. ‘You mean you’re still happy to be my friend?’

He shook his head. ‘Not happy, precisely, Kate. But I can be patient. I wouldn’t be much of a scientist if I weren’t.’

She sighed. ‘It’s such a pity the timing’s wrong. If you’d told me you loved me years ago I’d have been in seventh heaven.’

‘Then I’ll just have to develop some miracle drug to revive your devotion,’ he said lightly. ‘Which night shall I come over to Foychurch?’

Kate’s eyes widened. ‘You mean you still want to do that?’

He smiled indulgently. ‘You can’t believe that what’s happened between us tonight has put me off the idea, surely!’

‘Oh. I see. You expect to make it a regular occurrence.’ She looked at him levelly. ‘What happened tonight was just what I meant it to be, Alasdair. An experiment. A wildly successful one, I grant you.’

‘Thank you so much!’

‘But,’ she went on doggedly, ‘it was also a one-off. I’m very grateful to you for proving—’

‘Stop right there,’ he ordered, his eyes glittering dangerously. ‘All I’ve actually proved is that with me you can enjoy the act of love. But that’s the point, Kate. With
me
and no one else.’

‘You can’t know that for sure.’

‘I’m right. Believe it.’

Their eyes clashed for a moment, then Kate turned to take her cellphone from her bag. ‘Time I was off,’ she said brusquely, and dialled Friars Wood. After a brief conversation with her father, to give an idea of when she’d be home, she told him not to let her mother wait up, then turned to Alasdair. ‘Goodnight,’ she said awkwardly. ‘Thank you for—for everything.’

‘It was a pleasure.’ he said, lips twitching, then took her by the shoulders and kissed her swiftly. ‘Drive
safely, and ring me the minute you get there. I’ll be waiting.’

Kate nodded, and went with him to the front door. ‘Don’t come outside dressed like that.’

Alasdair eyed the sheeting rain with misgiving. ‘I think you should stay.’

Kate wasn’t happy about driving home through torrential rain herself, but she shook her head. ‘I can’t do that. I’m leaving home after lunch tomorrow.’

‘Then for pity’s sake go carefully.’ He seized her by the shoulders and kissed her again. ‘I’ll see you Tuesday evening about seven.’

She nodded, then fled out into the rain, unlocked her car and dived inside, threw her bag in the back, and tossed the phone on the seat beside her. She backed round carefully, waved at Alasdair’s tall shape silhouetted in the light from the hall, sounded her horn in farewell, then, with her windscreen wipers going full blast, drove out into the lane and started for home.

By the time Kate had skirted Gloucester and begun heading for Stavely she was heartily sorry she’d refused Alasdair’s offer. There was a steady stream of traffic heading her way, among them heavy goods vehicles which covered her windscreen in spray which made driving conditions nerve-racking. Progress was slow. And she was tired. Making love with Alasdair was not only different from anything experienced before, it was also a great deal more exhausting. Right now she’d have given a lot to be tucked up with him in that huge bed of his. Just to sleep.

She drove on, keeping doggedly to the speed limits, and doing her best to keep out of trouble when she was forced to put on speed to overtake a slow-moving lorry or slow down to let an overtaking car slot in in front of
her. Eventually the road narrowed to one-lane traffic, which made things marginally easier, with no choice other than to drive nose-to-tail with the vehicle in front. It seemed like hours before Kate, feeling utterly shattered by this time, swooped round a sharp curve and saw a familiar rise up ahead. Almost home.

As she moved down a gear to allow for the climb, her phone rang. A glance showed that it had slid to the floor at some stage, and, keeping her eyes straight ahead and one hand firmly on the wheel, Kate reached down for the phone as she topped the crest of the hill. There was a sudden blinding glare from approaching headlights and she dropped the phone, gasping as the car went into a skid when it met water pouring across the road. She hauled on the wheel, her feet hard on the pedals as she tried to right the car, but as the road dropped away on the other side of the hill she lost control. The car veered across the road, shot through a hedge, and Kate screamed as she was hurled into a whirling, somersaulting chaos which ended in sharp, agonising pain before the world went black.

Glad to wake from the nightmare, Kate lay very still, too exhausted even to open her eyes, but very grateful to find herself at home in bed. Terrible headache, though. She would take some painkillers when she got up. But not just yet. More sleep, she decided, and slid back into oblivion.

When she surfaced again she could hear a strange beeping sound. She was still horribly tired. Her eyelids seemed weighted down. The effort to open them was enormous, but she managed it at last. And wished she hadn’t. She closed her eyes again, waited for a few moments, then opened them very slowly. But the unfamiliar
room was still there. She was in a hospital. Trembling, she closed her eyes again. Not a nightmare after all, then.

‘Kate,’ said a voice. ‘Wake up, Kate. Come on, I know you can hear me.’

She raised the heavy eyelids to see a nurse leaning over her, smiling in encouragement.

‘Hello, at last. How do you feel?’

Kate tried to speak but her mouth was dry. ‘Thirsty,’ she croaked.

Propped up expertly to drink water through a glass straw, she tried to smile her thanks afterwards.

‘You stirred a little an hour ago,’ said the nurse, ‘but you went back to sleep again. Just lie there quietly for a minute while I fetch Sister.’

Kate frowned. Then stopped frowning because it hurt. Now she had attention to spare for it she found her head hurt quite horribly, along with various other parts which hurt almost as much. She stirred, then lay still again when she found she was attached to a drip. And there were flowers in the room. Lots of them. How had they arrived so quickly?

The door opened and the nurse came in with a calm young woman in dark blue.

‘I’m Sister Blackwell,’ she announced. ‘Well done, Miss Dysart. You’re back with us at last. Tell me how you feel?’

Kate’s lips moved in a ghost of a smile. ‘As well—as can—be expected?’

‘By which you mean sore and in pain, and totally disorientated,’ said Sister, nodding. ‘You were in a car accident, and you were brought here to Pennington General. You suffered concussion from a blow to the head. You lost a great deal of blood, which has now
been replaced, but for the time being we shall keep you on a drip and attached to a monitor.’

Kate gazed at her blankly. ‘How long?’

‘That depends on your progress.’

‘I meant—how long since I got here?’

‘Three days ago. Your parents will return to see you later. In the meantime try to rest.’

When she was alone Kate lay very still, trying to assimilate the information she’d been given. Three days. Three days out of her life. But at least she still
had
her life. For which, by the sound of it, she should be grateful. And it was a good thing the nurse had called her by name when she woke up. Otherwise she wouldn’t have the slightest idea what it was. She fought down a sudden rush of panic, reminding herself she’d been hit on the head. No wonder her memory was on the blink. But Kate’s panic increased when the door opened and a total stranger came into the room.

‘I have to be quick,’ he said. ‘Even a fiancé’s only allowed a minute or two.’

Fiancé? Kate stared at him blankly.

He stooped to kiss her cheek, his eyes full of compassion. ‘How are you?’

She tried to smile. ‘I’ve been better.’

‘Did you get my flowers?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve only just woken up.’ She looked at the profusion of blooms on the window ledge. ‘Are they over there?’

‘Never mind that. Tell me what happened to you.’

‘I don’t know. They said I was in a car accident, but I can’t remember.’

‘Just as well, probably.’ He took her hand very gently in his.

She looked at him in distress. ‘You’d better know that
I can’t remember you either. Not even your name. I wouldn’t know my own if the nurse hadn’t called me Kate.’

He smiled reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry. I answer to anything.’ He turned sharply at the sound of voices outside. ‘Look, I shouldn’t be here. I just had to make sure you were all right so I sneaked in.’ He leaned over to kiss her cheek again, and went quickly from the room.

When the door opened again a minute later Kate tensed, but this time it was the nurse.

‘Right, then, Kate. Would you like another drink?’

Kate smiled gratefully, drank more water, then settled back against the pillows. ‘My fiancé was just here,’ she told the nurse.

‘Again?’ Nurse Dunn smiled with sympathy. ‘Poor man. He’s been haunting the place.’

Sudden tears ran down Kate’s face. ‘I didn’t recognise him,’ she said, so desolately the nurse took her hand and squeezed it.

‘Don’t worry. Your memory’s just taking a rest, that’s all. So don’t try and force it. Try to sleep for a bit.’

When she was alone Kate lay very still against the pillows, trying to come to terms with her blank mind. In America they always asked you the name of the President, didn’t they? She wondered how she remembered that, decided it was too much effort to think about, and went to sleep. When she opened her eyes again there were two people sitting beside her bed, a lady with grey curly hair and dark eyes, and a tall man with greying fair hair, both of them with identical expressions of painful anxiety.

Tears slid down Kate’s face as they bent to kiss her. ‘I can’t remember anything.’

Frances Dysart gave her a careful hug and kissed her
cheek. ‘Don’t worry about that, Katharine Dysart. I’m your mother and this is your father, and we love you dearly whether you remember us or not.’

Tom bent to kiss his daughter, then cleared his throat noisily as he resumed his chair. ‘Is your mind a total blank, darling?’

Kate sniffed inelegantly, but managed a smile, comforted by the fact that her response to them was instinctive and unmistakable. ‘Afraid so.’

‘The consultant says this is pretty standard procedure after a knock like yours,’ her father assured her. ‘Temporary memory loss. As you get better it should come back.’

‘I’ve told them at school,’ said Frances huskily, and blew her nose on a tissue.

‘School?’ Kate frowned. ‘I’m a bit old for that, surely?’

‘The school where you teach, darling,’ said her father, clearing his throat.

Kate thought about it. ‘Do I teach Physics?’

After a swift look at her husband Frances explained that Kate taught general subjects to eight-year-old pupils at Foychurch, a village in Herefordshire. ‘A supply teacher’s been called in while you’re getting better.’

‘Gabriel sent her love, and Adam will pop in again before he goes home tonight.’ said Tom, then smiled at her blank look. ‘Gabriel’s married to Adam, your very worried brother, my darling.’

A subliminal flash of black curly hair and dark eyes swam into Kate’s memory and out again. ‘Adam,’ she repeated, finding the name as familiar to her tongue as Mother and Dad had been.

Her parents went on to talk about Leonie, Jess and Fenny, and how all her sisters were desperate to see her
the moment she was well enough, until Frances, aware that the new list of names was adding to Kate’s distress, changed the subject to ask if there was anything she needed.

Kate smiled ruefully. ‘A new memory would be nice.’

‘Be patient, sweetheart,’ said her father gruffly. ‘Don’t try to force it.’

‘We’ll come back this evening,’ said Frances, looking at the exhaustion on her daughter’s ashen face. ‘By then you should feel stronger. I’ve brought clean clothes and various necessary bits and pieces. I’ll let the nurse sort it out for you.’

When her parents had gone the nurse came in to check on Kate and see to her basic needs, then gave her a sponge down and a clean nightgown, and left her to have a rest.

‘The consultant will be round later, Kate,’ said the nurse cheerfully. ‘My name’s Michelle, by the way.’

Too late, when she was alone, Kate remembered she should have mentioned her fiancé’s visit. She lay worrying about it. She had known at once she belonged to her parents. But there had been no similar response to the strange man. And surely, if she loved a man enough to become engaged to him, she ought to have felt some sense of relationship to him, too?

It was all too much, and, worn out by the sheer difficulty of life without a memory, Kate gave up and went to sleep.

Later she received a visit from the consultant, a genial no-nonsense man who came in with Sister in attendance to ask Kate questions about mental confusion, stiffness in her neck, and persistent headache or vomiting. She told him her lack of memory and sore, aching head were her main problems, apart from various cuts and bruises
and the soreness in her chest. He told her the latter came from the restraining seat belt and would soon wear off, then assured her that the memory loss was likely to be fleeting.