That Tender Feeling (17 page)

‘A what did you say?'

‘A frog. It was one of those joke things between us. He said he wasn't likely to turn into my prince and that he was a frog through and through. Afterward, we pulled a box of crackers. In one of them there was a joke slip about it being a girl's lot to kiss a lot of frogs in her search for her prince. We fell about laughing.'

‘He sounds to be a lot of fun.'

‘Sure. And the laugh's on me.'

‘Your Cliff puts me in mind of a man I used to know,' Hannah continued unperturbed. ‘He was a lot of fun, too. I had the same kind of sparkle about me that you have now. I lit up for him, just as you light up for Cliff. I was very young, younger than you are, only just eighteen. He was considerably older, which added a certain spice to our friendship. Before him, I'd only known boys of my own age. How callow they seemed once I was in the company of an experienced man of the world. He made me feel so alive. One hour of his company was worth twenty of anyone else's.'

‘What happened?' Ros asked, perking up and taking notice. She'd always known there was someone special in Hannah's life who had spoiled her for other men.

‘What happened?' Hannah repeated. ‘Nothing. I wouldn't let it happen, because I was very foolish. You call yourself gullible. So was I. I was so gullible I believed everything anybody told me. He told me that he was a confirmed bachelor, that he would never settle down with a wife and raise a brood of children. He said he wasn't cut out to be a family man. And I believed him. As I wanted all the things that were so abhorrent to him, I ended our friendship. Friendship, Rosalynd, I never permitted it to be a relationship, although if I'm honest with myself I would have liked to have had a relationship with him, in the fullest sense of the word. Like you, I was a coward. I needed a sop for my conscience, something to make it tidy and acceptable. Of course, I'm going back to a time when attitudes weren't as free and easy as they are now. I was afraid of shocking people. I loved him, but I loved my good name more. So we parted.'

‘Is there something else? I've a feeling there is.'

‘Oh, yes, quite an amusing little epilogue. I met him again, many years later. He was with his wife and his four delightful children. Never have I seen a more besotted husband or as proud a father.'

‘It's a touching story. But it won't make any difference to me.'

‘I didn't expect it to. There are many injustices in this life, but in one respect it's fair. We all have to learn by our own mistakes.'

CHAPTER NINE

It began to snow again as Ros headed back for Yorkshire. She switched on the car radio and listened to the dismal announcement of freezing fog, snow and black ice. The farther north she traveled, the worse the conditions. She wanted to put her foot down and get there as quickly as possible, but common sense told her that would be a short cut to the nearest hospital, and so she went easy on the accelerator pedal.

She was still dazed by the turn of events, her sadness for Edward Banks mingling with her joy that it wasn't Cliff. She prayed earnestly that it would come out all right for Edward, that the treatment would work and he would be given a new lease on life. And how precious that life would be. He would view each day as a miracle and never again take his existence for granted. She didn't know that he ever had, only that it was common knowledge that most people do.

Her happiness that it wasn't Cliff knew no bounds. Even as she raged inwardly at herself for jumping to the conclusion that she had—and everything had interlocked so convincingly that she had been positive that Cliff was the man her father had phoned about—she didn't regret everything. She knew that by asking herself just one question. Say she was vested with some strange power that allowed her to give this Christmas back, never to have known the wonder and fun of that idyllic time with Cliff, would she use it? The answer was no! That time was fiercely precious to her. So then she asked herself another question. If she refused to deny herself what had been, why was she denying herself what could be even better now that the sadness was erased? She'd discovered firsthand that women have the same feelings, desires, as men. Only a man puts the demands of his body first, whereas a woman must appease her conscience before she can satisfy the urges of her body. She was up against the fundamental difference of the sexes.

Her indignation took a sharp climb. Why should she be the one to give in? Wasn't her pride every bit as important as Cliff's unreasonable reluctance to commit himself? It wasn't just a matter of pride, but a question of caring. Not just hers, but Cliff's as well. Some of the caring had to be on his side. If he wouldn't, or couldn't, give her his love, she couldn't settle for his lust.

It was dark by the time she arrived at the cottage. Cliff must have been listening for her, as he had on that other occasion when she came back from phoning Miles, her heart in anguish because of what she'd heard. It was like a replay of an old film, she thought, as the cutting of the car engine triggered off the opening of the cottage door and Cliff came striding forward to greet her. Cold and despondent, with her heart no longer in anguish but frozen in anger, she got out of the driving seat, slammed the car door shut as though taking some of her vengeance out on it and trudged forward to meet him.

‘You look chilled to the core,' he said, tucking her under the protection of his arm.

She didn't seem able to summon up the energy to thrust it off. ‘I had to drive with the car window down for most of the way to be able to see.'

He shuttled her through the door. Just as she hadn't been able to push off his arm, so she couldn't push off the sensation of coming home. It wedged in her throat and made swallowing difficult. And that was nothing to the mammoth difficulty that faced her. She would have to get the message across to Cliff, the sooner the better, before his forceful character melted her resistance.

He sat her down on the same kitchen chair as before and removed her boots. He had put her slippers out in readiness, and he took each foot in turn and slid it into the blissful warmth.

He dealt with her gloves and unbuttoned her coat, saying, ‘We'll soon have the blood circulating.'

‘I'm not staying, Cliff.'

His eyebrows contested that remark.

‘Tonight, yes,' she amended, submitting to having her coat removed. ‘I'm not foolish enough to drive straight back again. I've come for my things, and I'm leaving in the morning.'

‘What are you talking about?'

‘No mystery, just what I said. I head south again tomorrow.'

‘I won't let you go.'

She waved a ringless hand in front of his face. ‘It works both ways, Cliff. You can't have a commitment on one side and none on the other. We are both free agents. You can't stop me from going.'

‘I see. It's that, is it?' His mouth twisted in cynicism. ‘What am I supposed to do now? Go down on my bended knees and ask you to marry me? Is that what you expect?'

‘I don't expect anything from you, Cliff. That way I won't be disappointed.'

She sighed in near desperation. ‘I'm sorry, Cliff, but I'm not interested in a casual affair.'

‘There is nothing casual about our feelings for one another, and you insult us both by suggesting there is.'

‘It was Christmas. We were flung together in the season of good will. What else could you expect? But Christmas is over, Cliff.'

‘Don't you believe it! Nothing's over. It's just beginning. There might have been an element of chance in the way we met up again, but proximity didn't take us into one another's arms, the force of our own emotions drove us there.'

She hadn't missed his reaction about the Christmas dig. She'd stumbled on that line by accident and didn't see why she shouldn't make the most of it, even as her sense of self-preservation appealed for caution.

‘It was better than playing noughts and crosses,' she said, shrugging her shoulders to imply indifference, surrendering to the unwise delight of goading him.

‘Why you—' His jaw tightened, his hands reached out and pulled her to her feet, and then she was held meltingly close in his arms.

Their views clashed violently, his opinion of the worthless state of marriage was repugnant to her, but she couldn't find his nearness repellent. Physically, they were on the same wave length.

He had proved his point by setting her pulses racing and firing her blood with wild expectancy; but the kiss her mouth yearned for did not materialize as his hold loosened and his head drew away to look at her. ‘Did that feel casual, Ros? Didn't you want more?'

Declining to answer that, stepping back to put some needful distance between them, she said, ‘You give it a casual flavor by avoiding a decision.'

‘You can't charge me with that and make it stick. I could have drifted along and kept you guessing. I made a decision, long before I met you, not to sink up to my ears into domesticity. I never conned you on that score.'

‘I conned myself,' she said bitterly. ‘It was all my fault. I can lay no blame at your door.'

‘My kind of work will always take me away from home for a spell. I've seen too many of my mates taken in by cheating wives. It's not going to happen to me. I'll tell you the pattern. At first, the new bride goes with her husband, but then the children begin to arrive. Wife stays home, gets lonely, seeks adult male company.'

‘One rotten apple doesn't mean the whole barrel's tainted. All women aren't alike. And while we're about it, how many of your mates cheat on their wives?'

‘Fair comment. You're better off not getting tied up with the likes of me. If I was the marrying kind, there's no one with whom I'd rather plight my troth, believe me.'

‘Sorry, but I don't find that much of a compliment. As for the bit about plighting your troth—'she laughed—‘what an archaic description.'

‘I used it deliberately. It fits an archaic institution. In my opinion, trust is more important.'

‘Trust in what? That you don't get tired of me and send me packing in under six months? A year, or whatever? I find this argument rather pointless. You keep your views, and I'll stick to mine.'

A puzzled frown creased his forehead. ‘You knew my views before. You might not have accepted them, but they didn't stand between us. You never froze me off because of them.'

‘Ah . . . well. There was a reason.'

‘Which, if I'm any judge of that mutinous look on your face, you're not telling.'

‘Too true, I'm not.'

‘Something's happened during the time you were away.'

‘Top marks again for a correct observation.'

‘You've seen your old boy friend again.'

She had never told him of the complete reversal of her feelings for Jarvis. When he'd first made the suggestion that they share Holly Cottage, she'd kept her thoughts on that score to herself, feeling that if the situation got out of hand, it would serve as some kind of protection to let him think that she was still pining for her ex-fiancé. His male arrogance would never permit him to make love to a woman whose affections were held by another man.

So she smiled, letting her lashes slide down as though protective of a look of dreamy reminiscence in her eyes as her thoughts lingered on her recent meeting with Jarvis. ‘Brilliant,' she said on a breathy laugh. ‘Miles and his sister, Hannah, always throw a New Year's Day party. Jarvis was there.'

‘And you got chummy again?'

A small, gloating smile possessed her mouth. ‘We talked.'

‘And he wants to patch things up between you?'

‘He wants to marry me,' she said.

‘Liar.'

‘I beg your pardon!'

‘Oh, I don't mean about his wanting to marry you. I'll take your word on that. I mean this touching little performance you're giving is a lie. He might have ignited a small glimmer of feeling in you once, I won't dispute that fact, either. But the fire we lit together blew it out.'

The way he tore down her arguments, slashed through her defenses, horrified her. Drawing back her shoulders, lifting her chin at him in defiance, she began, ‘Your conceit is—'

‘—completely justified.' His searching glance compelled her eyes to meet his and submit to the cruelly penetrating look he gave her. ‘You're not a shallow person, Ros. Feelings run deep in you. You might have thought you were once in love with Jarvis when you didn't know any better, before your senses were excited and you were in complete physical harmony with a man for the first time. The tongue can lie, the heart can play you false, but the senses can always be relied upon to spell out the truth. Feelings can't be faked. And neither do you have to search for them like words, or truth even. It's something you know, an instinctive reaction that hits you.' His fingers reached forward and scraped down her cheek. The electric tingle encompassed every part of her body. ‘What do you feel, Ros?'

‘Nothing,' she said, her voice little more than a croak.

‘Then I shall have to carry the demonstration a step further.'

‘Don't touch me!' The words that should have been screamed at him came out sounding more like a plea.

‘Why mustn't I touch you?'

‘Because it doesn't please me any more.'

‘Oh? What does it do to you?'

‘It fills me with revulsion.' The revulsion was against herself for being so weak where he was concerned, for not having the strength of character to be cold and indifferent toward him.

‘No, Ros, that isn't true. When you feel revulsion toward a person, it's just about impossible not to show it. If you stand too close to them, your inclination is to cringe away. You don't cringe away from me, not deep down inside. It's all a pretense, Ros, an ill-concealed covering for what you really want, which is for me to take you into my arms. Your lips are hungry for mine, your body yearns to experience fully the sweet delights it has been awakened to.'