An All-Consuming Passion Read online

  ‘Luci, I——’

  ‘Don’t you “Luci” me! There are times when I could take my slipper to you, Holly Forsyth, and this is one of them!’

  ‘Oh, all right!’ With a groan of frustration, Holly put her charcoal and the sketch pad aside and got abruptly to her feet. ‘All right, all right, I’ll talk to him. But don’t blame me if your patient doesn’t like what I have to tell him!’

  Morgan’s room had been pleasantly cool when she entered it a few minutes later. She came in from the upstairs balcony, aware that by doing so she had a momentary advantage. The sunlight behind her put her face into shadow and for a moment she could see him without him being able to see her.

  He was lying flat on his back, just like the last time she had seen him. As before, his chest was exposed to the air, but this time cream cotton pyjama trousers covered his lower limbs. She guessed they belonged to her father. The ruching around his waist revealed that they were several sizes too large for his slim hips. The slit up the front gaped a little, too, but this was quickly remedied when he identified his visitor.

  ‘Holly,’ he greeted her drily, levering himself up on his elbows, and reaching for the sheet to cover him. ‘So you did get back from Charlottesville. I was beginning to wonder.’

  Holly moistened her dry lips, and then hurried to the bed, moving to adjust his pillows before he lay back. She had thought she might have exaggerated the sexual appeal of the man, but she hadn’t. Just doing these simple tasks for him made her hands all clammy, and she wondered if what had happened between them was still in his mind, too.

  Evidently, she was wrong. As she straightened up from the bed, his hand shot out to fasten round her wrist, but not with any trace of affection. His lean hard fingers bit almost cruelly into her flesh, and his tone was savage when he addressed her.

  ‘Did you do it?’ he demanded, his eyes almost black as they bored into hers. ‘Did you speak to your father? Or is your unusual desire for reclusivity your way of hiding that you hadn’t the guts?’

  Holly caught her breath. ‘Let go of me!’

  ‘Not until you tell me what I want to know.’ Morgan’s mouth was an uncompromising line. ‘If you haven’t let your father know what’s been going on, you may wish you’d kept out of my sight a little longer!’

  Holly made a futile attempt to free herself, and then glared at him defiantly. ‘And if I haven’t?’ she retorted, refusing to let him see he was hurting her. ‘What can you do about it, Mr Kane? You’re hardly in a position to force my hand.’

  ‘You think not?’ Without releasing her, Morgan swung his legs over the side of the bed, and dragged himself into a sitting position. Ignoring the sheen of sweat that had broken out on his forehead, he used her arm as a pivot to force himself to his feet. But although he gained a standing position, the effort was evidently too great, for he uttered a muffled groan and sank down on to the bed again, gritting his teeth against the strength it had cost him. This time, while he strove for breath, he had no awareness of the shortcomings of her father’s pyjamas, and Holly’s eyes darted swiftly away from the curls of dark hair they exposed.

  ‘Christ!’ Morgan muttered violently. ‘What the hell has that fool Harding done to me?’

  ‘It’s more what you’ve done to yourself,’ said Holly quietly, and as if only just realising she was with him, Morgan freed her to grope impatiently at the opening of the trousers.

  A faint thread of colour invaded his cheeks at the discovery of what had occurred, but his tone was as grim as ever, and he made no apology for his immodesty. ‘Am I to take it you have not spoken to your father?’ he enquired, pushing himself back against his pillows again with an obvious effort, and Holly sighed.

  ‘I haven’t—spoken to him, no,’ she admitted, stepping back from the bed, just in case he attempted to pursue his anger. Then, before he could utter the imprecation she was sure was about to spill from his lips, she added quickly, ‘But I did send him a telex. He knows what happened.’

  Morgan’s jaw was hard as he regarded her. ‘I asked you to phone.’

  ‘I know you did.’ Holly lifted her shoulders. ‘But I didn’t want to.’

  ‘Why?’ Morgan’s voice was bleak.

  Holly licked her lips. ‘I just didn’t. It’s not that important.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Morgan dragged the sheet across his thighs. ‘I think it is important. I think the reason you didn’t speak to your father is quite simple to understand: you know why I’m here; and you’re afraid that, if you speak to your father, he won’t prove as easy to fool as me!’

  Holly held up her head. ‘I haven’t fooled you.’

  ‘Haven’t you?’ Morgan’s lips twisted. ‘You disappear for a whole day immediately after my arrival——’

  ‘You know why. I have a job!’

  ‘… you come on strong in the evening, so that I’ll be forced to leave any discussions until the morning——’

  ‘I did not come on strong!’

  ‘… you steal my clothes——’

  ‘I left you the towel!’

  ‘… and finally, you create a situation for which your father would have put you over his knee!’

  Holly gazed at him angrily. ‘That’s not fair!’

  ‘What’s not fair?’ Morgan regarded her without liking. ‘That ever since I arrived, you’ve done your best to make life difficult?’

  Holly’s jaw jutted. ‘You kissed me, remember?’ she reminded him indignantly, using the only weapon left to her, and Morgan’s mouth drew into an ugly line.

  ‘I wondered when we’d get around to that!’ he said, his expression contemptuous. ‘Yes. I kissed you, Holly—as any normal male would have done, confronted by a half-naked nymph who’s been throwing herself at his head ever since he got here!’

  Now Holly took the bend in the road before making the final descent through the derelict plantation. She was home earlier than usual, Stephen having offered to take her final class so that she could get away. She had been grateful. She had been finding it difficult to feel any enthusiasm for the lesson, and although she had little enthusiasm for returning home either, there was nowhere else to go.

  She had not set eyes on Morgan since that angry exchange, and she didn’t expect to. At first, she had not wanted to see him, humiliated beyond reason by his cruel denunciation. But gradually, the pain had eased, and with it her resentment, leaving a dull sense of apathy at the futility of her attempts to play with his emotions.

  A telex had arrived from her father the day after their confrontation, but it had been delivered by Lucinda. Micah had picked it up from the Post Office in Charlottesville, and Holly had no way of knowing what it had contained. She had refused to ask the housekeeper. If Morgan wanted her to know, he would tell her. But, so far, she remained completely in the dark, and she consoled herself with the thought that what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

  When she reached the house, she parked the buggy in the yard as usual, before trudging into the kitchen. There was no one about so, slinging her holdall into a corner, she helped herself to a glass of iced fruit juice from the fridge. She was hot and sticky, and looking forward to the shower she intended to take—her only pleasure, it seemed, in a future that looked particularly bleak at this moment. She wished Morgan had never come here. She wished her father had simply sent her the air fare and ordered her back to London, as he had been known to do in the past. Then she would never have conceived the idea of seducing Morgan; then her own emotions would never have become involved.

  Guessing the housekeeper was napping on the verandah, Holly left her holdall where it was and crossed the hall to the stairs. Lucinda would see the buggy when she woke up and surmise where her young mistress had gone. After she had a shower, she would make some tea, if the housekeeper was still sleeping. Perhaps, if she made a determined effort, she could shake off this feeling of depression once and for all.

  She was tempted to peep into Morgan’s bedroom before taking her shower, bu
t the memory of that last encounter was not encouraging. Besides, Lucinda had confided that Morgan had spent a couple of hours downstairs the previous afternoon, while Holly was out, which seemed to confirm that he was still eager to avoid her. It was possible that he, too, was relaxing on the verandah at the moment, for she was not expected back for at least another hour. But the prospect of finding out, and maybe creating further animosity, was not appealing. She had the unpleasant suspicion that Morgan was waiting until he was fit enough to make the journey before telling her his plans. Then, he would announce their departure forthwith, giving her no time at all to create any obstacles.

  Now, Holly stripped off her shirt and the knee-length cotton shorts she had been wearing, closing her eyes for a moment as the warm air fanned her hot skin. Then, with a determined shrug of her shoulders, she walked into the bathroom, only to stop short at the sight of Morgan, sitting in the bath.

  This time, she was as disconcerted as he had been when he found her in a similar position. The last place she had expected Morgan to be was in the bath, and she was not prepared for the flood of emotion that reddened her skin at his appearance. Thank God she was still wearing a bra and pants, she thought swiftly, though her lacy under-garments were scarcely adequate cover. Nevertheless, in her present frame of mind they provided a flimsy barrier to his frustrated gaze.

  Morgan, for his part, was quite modestly concealed below the ring of soapy water. He had evidently washed his hair, for it was plastered close to his head, and drops of water trickled with unknowing sensuality down the muscled contours of his chest. Tiny globules of moisture trembled on the fine whorls of hair that arrowed towards his navel, drawing Holly’s eyes downward, and although she knew she was inviting his censure, the inducement was irresistible.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Morgan demanded wearily, interrupting her thought processes and dragging her attention back to his face. But, although she had anticipated his question, and the force of anger that should have accompanied it, Morgan’s voice held only a degree of irritation, an almost studied acceptance that she should be the one to invade his privacy.

  ‘I——’

  ‘Did Lucinda send you?’ he enquired, reaching for the thick turquoise towel draped over the curved shelf at the side of the bath. ‘I thought she had more sense. I told her what I intended to do.’

  Holly blinked. ‘Lucinda?’ She shook her head. ‘I think Lucinda’s probably dozing on the verandah.’

  ‘That figures.’ Morgan wiped the moisture from his face with the towel, his mouth drawing down at the corners. ‘And I suppose you thought you’d try and shock me again. Well, forget it, Holly. I’ve seen you in the nude, remember?’

  Holly’s face burned. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know——’

  ‘Oh, come off it!’ Morgan spoke harshly. ‘Why else would you come in here wearing something as revealing as that? You were hoping to make a scene, weren’t you? Maybe you had some idea of using the housekeeper as a witness. Something to write home to Daddy about. Attempted rape? Was that what you had in mind?’

  Holly gulped. ‘How—how dare you?’

  ‘Isn’t it true?’

  ‘Of course it’s not true!’ Holly fought for control as she turned towards the door. ‘You have a twisted mind, Mr Kane! No wonder you and my father get along so well——’

  ‘Wait!’ As she reached the door to her room, his voice arrested her. ‘Holly! Don’t go.’

  She didn’t turn. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because—well, because I didn’t mean that.’ He sighed. ‘Maybe I’ve misjudged you. Maybe you didn’t hear me.’

  ‘Hear you?’ Holly glanced at him over her shoulder. ‘I didn’t hear you in the bath, if that’s what you mean.’

  Morgan’s shoulders sagged. ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘You mean—back home?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I don’t know exactly.’ She shrugged. ‘Ten minutes. Fifteen, maybe. What does that matter?’

  ‘It matters—because I have been shouting for assistance for the past three-quarters of an hour,’ retorted Morgan heavily. ‘I’ve been trying to attract someone’s attention. I need Sam or Micah to help me out of the bath.’

  Holly gripped the frame of the door with both hands as she looked at him. ‘You mean—you can’t get up?’

  ‘Obviously not.’ Morgan evidently resenting having to make the admission. ‘Something’s locked. When I try to move—well, I can’t. I just need someone to help pull me up.’

  Holly caught her lower lip between her teeth. The temptation to tell him it served him right after the way he had spoken to her was appealing, but his comments had not been that far off the mark. Only she had never thought of using Lucinda as a witness, which just went to prove she was not as cunning as she had thought.

  ‘They say hot water weakens you,’ she remarked now, consideringly, and saw the muscle tighten in his cheek.

  ‘I don’t really care what “they” say,’ he responded bleakly. ‘Just do me a favour and ask one of your employees to come up here. I’m persuaded that your friend Harding might know what he’s talking about, after all.’

  Holly frowned. ‘Did Simon advise you not to take a bath?’

  Morgan expelled his breath impatiently. ‘Not in so many words. He said I should avoid too much exercise, that’s all. I didn’t know getting up out of a bath was energetic until now.’

  Holly nodded. ‘I see.’ An unwarranted bubble of amusement was taking the place of her earlier resentment. ‘No wonder you’re so grumpy. It must be a new experience for you to find yourself in hot water!’

  ‘Very funny.’ Morgan’s smile was scarcely humorous. ‘Now will you do as I ask and call Sam or Mr Fletcher?’

  Holly hesitated for a moment. Then she said flatly, ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Why can’t you?’ Morgan’s voice had an edge to it now.

  ‘Because they’re not here,’ replied Holly reasonably. ‘It’s Thursday. Micah generally goes to Charlottesville on a Thursday.’

  ‘And Sam,’ prompted Morgan, between his teeth.

  ‘I don’t know where Sam is,’ responded Holly, drawing her fingernail along the grain of the wood. ‘At a guess, I’d say he’s probably gone fishing. There’s not much else to do here, once his chores are done.’

  Morgan regarded her grimly. ‘So what are you saying?’

  Holly shrugged. ‘I’m saying there’s no one I can ask to help you. At least, not for another hour or so.’ She straightened and turned back towards her bedroom. ‘I guess I’ll have to take my shower later. I don’t think Lucinda would approve of us both sharing the bathroom at the same time.’

  ‘Holly!’ As she was disappearing into her room, Morgan’s frustrated tones once again drew her attention. ‘Holly, for God’s sake!’ he muttered. ‘You can’t just leave me here!’

  Holly hesitated just inside her bedroom, and then turned and put her head round the door. ‘What would you have me do?’ she countered, adopting an innocent expression, and his eyes darkened angrily as he guessed she was enjoying his discomfort.

  ‘You’ll have to help me,’ he gritted, making an abortive attempt to lever himself up, before sinking back, groaning, into the water. ‘For pity’s sake, Holly, you must have seen a naked man before. Just help me to get on my feet. I’ll be okay, once I’m standing.’

  Holly’s tongue circled her lips. ‘And what if Lucinda comes and sees us?’ she ventured softly. ‘Aren’t you afraid of the interpretation she might put on me helping you? I mean—she might think you’d lured me into the bathroom.’

  ‘All right, Holly, you’ve had your fun.’ Morgan was keeping his temper with evident difficulty. ‘Just go and put some clothes on, will you? If you went around decently clad like everyone else, the problem wouldn’t arise.’

  Holly arched one indignant brow. ‘For someone in your position, you’re remarkably arrogant——’

  ‘Holly!’

  ‘Oh, all right.’ With
a grimace, she capitulated, and turning back into the bedroom, she swiftly donned the shirt and shorts she had just discarded. Tying the ends of her shirt beneath her breasts for quickness, she sauntered back into the bathroom, her pace slowing instinctively as she approached the bath.

  Morgan expelled his breath on a low sigh of relief, and stretched out his hand. ‘If you can just help me to stand up, I should be able to make it,’ he said. ‘That’s right. I’ll try not to put my whole weight on you. God! I feel so bloody helpless! Who’d have thought a fall from a horse could create such havoc?’

  ‘Anyone who knows horses would,’ retorted Holly, avoiding looking at him. The hard strength of his arm about her shoulders was already causing her pulses to race, and as his lean body came up out of the water, the temptation to stare was almost irresistible.

  Morgan panted a little as he gained his feet, and Holly reached for the towel and handed it to him. ‘Thanks,’ he said wrapping the concealing folds around him. ‘And thanks for your help. I was pretty desperate.’

  ‘You’re not out of the bath yet,’ Holly pointed out huskily, aware that she was trembling. ‘Do you want me to stay?’

  Morgan’s lips twisted. ‘I don’t think that will be necessary,’ he responded, putting a hand in the small of his back and flexing the muscles experimentally. ‘I think I can just about crawl out of here. But I don’t know if I can make it downstairs, as I promised.’

  Holly frowned. ‘Promised? Promised who?’

  ‘Your housekeeper,’ replied Morgan drily, using the ends of the towel to wipe away the water dripping from his hair. ‘Now, do you mind if I ask you to get lost? I’ve no desire for you to witness any further humiliation on my part.’

  Holly hesitated. ‘Are you—I—mean—well, do you have any idea when you might be—might be leaving?’

  ‘Holly!’ Morgan gazed at her impatiently. ‘This is not the time or the place to discuss something like that.’

  ‘I know.’ She hunched her shoulders. ‘But you don’t talk to me.’

  ‘Whose fault is that?’

  Holly grimaced. ‘I suppose you think it’s mine.’