Innocent Sins Page 15

  ‘Why, indeed?’ he agreed, turning back to the road. ‘Tell me, do you get pleasure out of being unpleasant to people in general, or is it only me who brings out the worst in you?’

  Laura caught her breath. ‘What did you expect?’ she demanded. ‘You don’t exactly treat me with respect.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No.’

  He frowned. ‘So what are we talking about here? The mistake I made in thinking you wanted me to make love to you a couple of hours ago, or am I right in thinking you’re still bearing a grudge because of what happened fifteen years ago?’

  ‘Fourteen years ago,’ Laura corrected him quickly, and then wished she hadn’t when his eyes darkened with sudden understanding.

  ‘Damn, that is what this is all about!’ he exclaimed incredulously. ‘My God, you said you’d got over it. That you’d forgiven me. What the hell did I do to make you hate me so much?’

  Laura turned her head towards the window. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Don’t give me that.’ Oliver was getting angry now; she could sense it. ‘Talk to me, dammit. We used to be able to tell each other anything.’

  ‘When we were kids,’ said Laura disparagingly. ‘That was a long time ago, Oliver.’

  ‘Don’t I know it? Which only makes this conversation even more incredible. I’ve said I’m sorry, for God’s sake. I am. If I’d known it was going to foul up our relationship—’ He broke off, and then added flatly, ‘Hell, Laura, if it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else.’

  ‘Someone else?’ She arched a haughty brow. ‘Someone else, what?’

  ‘Don’t make me spell it out,’ he said harshly. ‘You know exactly what I mean. That summer—you were growing up, Laura. I wasn’t the only guy who couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were hot. A ripe, luscious peach just waiting to be picked.’

  ‘You bastard!’

  Laura’s fist connected with his midriff with more force than she guessed he would have given her credit for. It knocked the wind out of him and for a few seconds the Jeep veered dangerously out of control. But somehow he managed to hang on to the wheel, and when he could get his breath he swore angrily.

  ‘Crazy bitch,’ he choked, using the car’s indicators to signal that he was leaving the motorway at the next exit. Moving into the nearside lane, he swung up the ramp into a service area and, finding a parking space, he rammed on his brakes.

  Laura was already feeling some remorse for attacking him as she had, and she knew Oliver had every right to be angry when she’d recklessly endangered both their lives. But shame, and a certain stubbornness, kept her silent, and it was left to Oliver to turn in his seat and stare at her with grim, accusing eyes.

  ‘What the hell was that for?’ he demanded, rubbing his midriff with a defensive hand. ‘Can’t you have a conversation without resorting to violence?’

  ‘Not with you, no.’

  Oliver blew out a frustrated breath. ‘Why not?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘Well, I do.’ Oliver was not prepared to be conciliatory. ‘You either tell me what this is all about now, or you can find your own way to Penmadoc’

  Laura’s lips parted. ‘You wouldn’t!’

  ‘Try me,’ he said flatly. ‘Go ahead. Push me far enough and you’ll find out.’

  Laura held up her head. ‘You can’t threaten me.’

  ‘I’m not threatening you.’ Oliver groaned. ‘Well, I am, I suppose, but not in the way you mean. I want some answers, Laura, and you’re going to give them to me.’

  She stiffened. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Yes, you do. I’m talking about you; me; us. I want to know what happened to turn us from—from friends into enemies.’ He sighed. ‘I’d hazard a guess that this has something to do with my mother. What the hell did she tell you to turn you against me? She swore you’d understood, that you were eager to put what had happened behind you, not just for your own sake but for your father’s.’

  Laura’s lips twisted. ‘How convenient for you.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Oliver’s fist clenched on the wheel. ‘Wasn’t it true? Are you saying you blamed me for what happened?’

  Laura bent her head. ‘Not exactly.’ This was getting too deep and she didn’t want to go on with it. At least he’d explained why he’d never attempted to get in touch with her. Knowing Stella as she did, she was fairly sure that she’d have conveyed an entirely contrary message to her son. ‘Look, let’s just say your mother and I never did see—eye to eye.’

  ‘So you did blame me?’ Oliver shook his head. ‘I wish you’d written and told me.’

  ‘Told you what?’

  ‘How you felt, of course. I may have been pretty arrogant in those days, but I would never have hurt your feelings. God, surely you know that?’

  Laura’s gaze flickered towards him and back again. ‘And what would you have done?’ She paused. ‘Come home?’

  ‘Maybe. If you’d wanted me to.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  ‘It’s true.’ Oliver groaned. ‘I guess I’d have done most anything for you at that time. That was half the trouble. I was crazy about you. You know that.’

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘You should.’ Oliver scowled. ‘But, dammit, Laura, I knew you were too young. When Ma suggested the kindest thing might be to give you some space to grow up a little, I—well, I believed her.’

  Laura took a trembling breath. ‘Am I supposed to believe this?’

  Oliver balled his fist and hit the wheel impatiently. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I guess I wanted to believe her. That’s true, too. I knew we couldn’t go on seeing one another without—well, being together, and we both know where that might have led.’

  ‘Do we?’

  ‘Stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.’ He sighed. ‘If you’d got pregnant and had to give up school— What? What?’ He saw the disbelief in her eyes. ‘It could have happened. Don’t look at me like that, Laura. We were lucky we got away with it as we did. Just imagine how your father would have felt if he’d found out about us that way.’

  Laura expelled an unsteady breath. ‘Just imagine,’ she said bitterly. ‘We were lucky, weren’t we?’

  ‘That’s what I’m saying,’ went on Oliver eagerly. But although she said nothing to contradict him, he seemed to sense her withdrawal. ‘Hey,’ he protested. ‘Hey, are you listening to me, Laura?’

  ‘Of course.’

  But Laura wouldn’t look at him now and he was forced to go on. ‘I guess this means you weren’t as happy about me leaving as Ma said,’ he muttered, revising his opinion. ‘I suppose I knew that.’

  ‘Did you? You hid it well.’

  ‘Yeah, well—’ He raked back his hair with an impatient hand. ‘I guess I was hoping I was wrong.’ He shook his head. ‘But of course I wasn’t. I mean, you practically ignored me when I came home, and then you went off to college and married that—jerk, Neill.’ His jaw compressed. ‘God, you have no idea how much I hated that supercilious bastard!’

  Laura sniffed. ‘Conor wasn’t a supercilious bastard.’

  ‘Wasn’t he?’ Oliver rubbed his chin against his fist. ‘He seemed that way to me. But then, I was pretty peeved with you, too. You wouldn’t even talk to me. I knew you were making a mistake marrying that—marrying him,’ he amended harshly. ‘I wanted to tell you, I wanted a chance to make amends for what I’d done, I guess. But you just cut me dead. I wasn’t proud of myself, Laura. I’d have told you that, if you’d let me. When I lost you, I lost the most precious thing in my life.’

  Laura turned burning eyes in his direction. ‘Oh, please—’

  ‘I mean it.’ His mouth tightened. ‘You know, sometimes I’ve wished that you had got pregnant, after all. Yeah—’ this as she gave him an incredulous look ‘—crazy, eh? Selfish, too. But we’d have still been together. And I missed you so much.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’ Her voice br
oke on the words, and, realising she couldn’t take much more of this without breaking down completely, she turned her head away. ‘I think we’d better go.’

  ‘Not yet.’ Oliver’s knuckles brushed her cheek and she realised when he sucked in his breath that he had discovered the dampness she hadn’t had time to scrub away. ‘You’re crying,’ he said, his tone deepening with concern. ‘Don’t cry, sweetheart. That was then. This is now. Whatever happened in the past, we can start again.’

  ‘Can we?’ She sniffed again and pushed his hand away. ‘I’m afraid I don’t want to.’

  ‘I don’t think you believe that any more than I do,’ Oliver told her huskily. ‘If we were indifferent to one another, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’ He caught her chin in his hand and turned her face to his. ‘Tell me I’m wrong.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ she answered fiercely, twisting away from him. ‘Aunt Nell told me your girlfriend is away on some kind of photographic shoot at the moment, so I suppose you’re feeling horny. Well, tough. I won’t let you use me as a substitute for her.’

  Oliver stared at her. ‘Is that what you think I’m doing? Do you honestly believe that this whole thing is just the ravings of a sick libido?’ His lips twisted. ‘God, you don’t pull your punches, do you?’

  Laura quivered. ‘Do you deny it?’

  ‘Yes, I deny it,’ he snarled. ‘Natalie’s back, if you must know. I picked her up from the airport last night. And if I’d been as desperate as you say I’ve had—what?—more than twelve hours to get it on.’

  Laura moistened her lips. ‘If you say so.’

  ‘I do say so,’ he grated, turning back to the wheel. ‘I don’t know why I’m bothering to try and justify myself to you. You’re never going to believe me. You never did.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  The words were torn from her, and his fingers stilled on the ignition key. ‘Yeah, right.’

  ‘I mean it.’ Now she was aware of a reluctant need to justify herself. ‘For—for years I believed everything you said.’

  Oliver turned his head to look at her. ‘So why don’t you believe me now?’

  Laura let out a breath. ‘Because...’

  ‘Because what? Because fourteen years ago I did something any normal red-blooded male would have done? I’m not a saint, Laura. I have all the usual flaws and deficiencies. And when something you want is—offered to you—you don’t stop to think of the consequences.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘So?’

  Laura bent her head. ‘You don’t understand.’

  ‘No, I bloody don’t,’ he said savagely. ‘So why don’t you enlighten me?’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I just can’t, that’s why.’ She licked her lips. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You’re sorry?’ His eyes were tormented, and before she could anticipate what he was going to do he turned and looped a hand behind her neck, bringing her towards him. ‘I’d like to make you sorry,’ he muttered, and then his mouth was on hers, and there was no time to govern her response.

  She melted against him, her limbs softening into helpless pliancy as his tongue plundered her mouth. Fire, hot and purifying, spread from his lips to hers, and when his hand slipped beneath her jacket she couldn’t prevent the instinctive need to arch her body against his. Her silk shell was easily freed from her waistband and when his thumb brushed the swollen tip of her nipple she felt a groan of pleasure rising in her throat.

  Wherever he touched, her skin came alive, heating to a feverish pitch that no amount of reasoning could deny. What had begun as a punishment became a subtle assault on her senses and she was no more capable of stopping him now than she had been all those years ago.

  She didn’t try. Lifting her arms, she gripped his neck to hold him closer, sliding her hands into his hair, feeling its strength and virility curling about her fingers. The roughness of his jawline abraded her skin, but she didn’t care. She was totally absorbed with what he was doing to her and even breathing had become of less importance than the need to sustain that hungry kiss. His warmth, his maleness, his distinctive scent were all she cared about, and the heat that had started when he touched her spiralled down into her thighs.

  She briefly acknowledged the risks she’d taken that morning when he’d attempted to make love to her at the hotel. When she’d taunted him, she’d thought she’d been in control; but she’d been wrong. If he’d ignored what she’d said, if he’d pinned her to the bed with his hard, muscled body as he was pinning her to her seat now, it would have been a different story. She couldn’t control herself now and they were on a public car park, in full view of anyone who chose to walk by.

  But, ultimately, it wasn’t the fear of discovery that brought that passionate embrace to an end. It was the gear console between them that prevented Oliver from lifting her into his lap. It was an unrelenting barrier, and he swore as he was forced to accept defeat. And, as the world swam back into focus, Laura realised that once again she had had a lucky escape.

  ‘We’ll continue this later,’ Oliver said darkly, but Laura was already regretting her own impulsive nature.

  ‘Continue what?’ she countered a little breathlessly, and felt a measure of satisfaction when Oliver jarred the gear as he started the car.

  ‘Don’t,’ he warned her sharply, and she told herself it was only apprehension that caused the unfamiliar frisson of excitement in her stomach.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Oliver stopped at another service area at lunchtime. He made a half-hearted attempt to swallow a ham sandwich and a can of soda while Laura tackled a tuna salad, but his stomach refused to accept the food, and, pushing his plate aside, he went and got himself another cola. He drank it, staring broodingly out of the diner’s window at the traffic passing by on the road beneath them. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t reopen his argument with Laura until he could be sure they wouldn’t be interrupted, and he confined himself to comments about the weather—which was worsening—and the merits or otherwise of motorway food.

  Laura answered him in monosyllables, but at least she said something, which was some relief. He’d been half afraid she’d revert to her earlier mood of outright opposition and ignore him completely.

  It was dark by the time they crossed the Severn Bridge. A dull day had given way to an even duller late afternoon, and the rain spattering the windscreen was gaining in strength. Fortunately, they’d made good time to Port Talbot. The traffic had been light, but when they turned on to the road to Rhosmawr they hit the evening’s rush hour. In consequence, it was almost seven o’clock when they reached the village.

  He was aware that Laura was tenser now than she’d been for most of the journey, and he guessed that, like him, she was apprehensive about what they were going to find. The possibility that the thief—thieves?—might have vandalised the place was not appealing, although Oliver was sure Aunt Nell would have warned him if that had been the case. Whatever, as on the occasion when Griff had died, they were both returning here in less than happy circumstances and Oliver, for one, would be glad when he knew the worst.

  There was a car blocking the lane that led to the house and Oliver was forced to park behind it. It wasn’t familiar, but that meant little. He didn’t spend enough time at Penmadoc to recognise anyone’s vehicle, but he did wonder if his mother had had another of her breakdowns and the doctor had had to be called out.

  But that was uncharitable, he decided, aware of the irony in the thought. Being robbed was an unpleasant business, and Stella was unlikely to react to it any differently than anyone else. Besides, despite the incident of the phone call—which had acquired rather different connotations in his mind in any case—he had no real reason for doubting Stella’s sincerity. Despite everything, surely even she would fight shy of actually shunning her own husband’s funeral?

  Or not.

  ‘Your mother has visitors.’

  Oliver grimaced. I
t was typical that the first words Laura had volunteered without encouragement should concern her stepmother.

  He shrugged. ‘Or your aunt does,’ he countered, and felt her eyes flicker briefly in his direction.

  ‘Oh, right,’ she said, preparing to get out of the Jeep. ‘Aunt Nell is a regular party animal.’

  ‘One car does not constitute a party,’ retorted Oliver, getting annoyed in spite of himself. He didn’t want any reinforcement of his own doubts and his jaw compressed. Then, taking possession of the backpack, which she had stowed behind her seat, he pushed open his door. ‘Wait here. I’ll get an umbrella from the house.’

  ‘I’m not made of sugar,’ replied Laura, surrendering the backpack to him with evident reluctance. ‘I won’t melt.’

  ‘Ain’t that the truth,’ muttered Oliver drily, but although he spoke in a barely audible tone he could tell by the way she glared at him that she’d heard what he’d said.

  It had obviously been raining for some time because the ground underfoot was soft and muddy. It was an effort to keep his balance, and he felt a small smile curve his lips when he felt Laura clutch his coat to save herself. But he didn’t say anything, and nor did she.

  They tramped round to the back to save treading mud all through the house, and this time the outer door was unlocked. They both paused in the passage to remove their boots. It was easier for Oliver. He kicked off his without much effort. But Laura had to sit down on one of the wooden benches to unfasten her laces.

  ‘Let me,’ he said resignedly, brushing her cold hands aside, and although she would have obviously preferred to do it herself she didn’t argue.

  Oliver had half expected Aunt Nell to be waiting for them. But when they entered the kitchen the room was empty. Even the fire in the grate was in danger of dying, and Oliver used the iron poker to riddle the ash before adding a couple of logs to its smouldering embers.

  ‘It’s not like Aunt Nell to forget about it,’ murmured Laura, clearly of the same mind as himself, and he nodded.

  ‘Perhaps she’s not feeling well,’ he offered. ‘It’s possible that the shock of the break-in could have upset her and she’s gone to bed.’