A Passionate Affair Page 7

  Entering the bedroom again with a towel tucked securely about her, she was glad of the welcoming warmth of the radiator. Her toes curled gratefully into the rough pile of the carpet, and in the dusky lamplight, the room had taken on an intimacy it had not previously displayed.

  ‘You really shouldn’t do that, you know.’

  The shock of hearing a man’s voice in a room she had believed to be empty caused her heart to race wildly. A scream rose unbidden to her throat, but her hand over her mouth silenced it as her visitor stepped out of the shadows.

  ‘Sleep in the bath,’ Jay continued irrespressibly, tucking his hands into the skin-hugging suede of his pants as he straightened away from the wall. ‘Has no one ever warned you of the dangers?’ His lips twitched. ‘Not to mention the fact that you could drown.’

  Indignation brought coherency: ‘You mean—you saw me!’ She clutched the towel convulsively. ‘But—how—–’

  ‘How could I?’ he anticipated her. ‘It was quite easy really. You hadn’t locked the door.’

  ‘I meant how did you get in here?’ she exclaimed resentfully. ‘What are you doing here? And don’t tell me it’s coincidence!’

  ‘I wouldn’t insult your intelligence.’ Jay moved his shoulders carelessly. ‘Now, which answer would you like first? Why I’m here or how I got here?’

  ‘I imagine you came by car,’ retorted Cassandra icily. ‘You know what I mean. How did you get into this room?’

  ‘The porter let me in.’

  ‘What?’ Cassandra no longer felt cold. She felt hot and frustrated, and totally confused. ‘I don’t believe you. The porter wouldn’t let a stranger in here.’

  ‘Ah, but I’m not a stranger,’ replied Jay, with an infuriating smile. ‘I told him I was your husband. He was most understanding.’

  ‘You did what!’ Cassandra’s legs felt decidedly unsteady. ‘You told them—you had the nerve to pretend—–’

  ‘Calm down.’ Jay’s dark gaze appraised her evident upheaval, and belatedly Cassandra became aware of her revealing state of undress. ‘If you’ll let me explain, I’m sure you’ll agree, I acted with your best interests at heart.’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Cassandra put up a nervous hand to her hair, feeling the moist tendrils curling against her nape. ‘I think you should get out of here before I call the porter myself. I’m sure he’ll take a pretty dim view of someone who forces his way into a woman’s room without authority—–’

  ‘For God’s sake, cool it, will you?’ Jay gave her an impatient stare. ‘I knocked but you didn’t answer, even though they told me downstairs you were in. I was concerned—–’

  ‘Were you?’

  ‘Yes, damn you, I was.’

  ‘Well, that still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here,’ exclaimed Cassandra tautly. ‘Did you follow me?’

  ‘If you mean did I hang about your flat all night waiting for you to make your appearance this morning, then no, I didn’t follow you,’ Jay retorted crisply. ‘However, when your mother-in-law told me where you were—–’

  ‘Thea? Thea told you where I was?’ Cassandra made a helpless gesture. ‘Why would she do that? Did she telephone you?’

  Jay sighed. ‘No, she didn’t telephone me.’ He paused. ‘I went round to your flat like you knew I would. And when I couldn’t get any response, I used my initiative and contacted your mother-in-law again.’

  ‘And she sent you here?’ Cassandra felt terrible. ‘Oh, she shouldn’t have done that—–’

  ‘Will you stop jumping to conclusions?’ Jay regarded her impatiently. ‘When she told me where you were, I was concerned. We were both concerned.’

  Cassandra shook her head. ‘There was no need to be. I—I intended driving to Matlock to see some friends. When the road conditions got bad, I came here.’

  ‘You ran away,’ he informed her flatly. ‘From me.’

  Cassandra gasped. ‘You flatter yourself!’

  ‘No, I don’t. But I do know that what happened last night frightened you. God—–’ he scuffed his boot against the carpet, ‘it frightened me.’ He looked at her steadily. ‘Believe me, I don’t generally make this kind of running.’

  Cassandra trembled. ‘Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?’

  ‘You can take it any way you like,’ he replied huskily. ‘Now, how about getting some clothes on, and we’ll have dinner together.’

  ‘You’re staying?’ Cassandra’s lips parted.

  ‘Would you have me drive back to town tonight?’ He moved, and her body stiffened in anticipation of his touch, but all he did was draw back the curtain at the window to display the softly falling flakes. ‘In that?’

  Cassandra shrugged. ‘I suppose not. But you can’t stay here. Not at this hotel.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well, you know why not.’

  ‘Ah—–’ He tilted his head. ‘You don’t want me to share your room.’ He shrugged. ‘No sweat. The hotel’s not full, I can get a room of my own.’

  Cassandra swallowed. ‘But you told them we were married!’

  ‘So what? Not all married couples share the same room.’

  Cassandra sighed. ‘I can’t stop you.’

  ‘Do you want to?’

  Cassandra licked her dry lips. ‘I—don’t know.’

  ‘That’s promising anyway.’ His smile returned as he strolled towards the door. ‘I’ll leave you to get dressed. I’ll meet you in the bar in—say, fifteen minutes?’

  ‘Make it half an hour,’ said Cassandra quickly, aware that she would need some time to recover her composure. He had come upon her unannounced, and he had disrupted what little detachment she had achieved. She would need a space to gather her scattered senses, and to recognise what might have happened if he had chosen to treat her differently. They were alone here. The staff of the hotel believed she was his wife. He could so easily have overpowered her, and remembering how he had observed her in the bath, she wondered if Liz would ever believe he had not tried to make love to her.

  ‘Tell me something,’ she said, as he reached the door, and he raised his dark brows in interrogation. ‘Did—did Thea put you up to this?’

  ‘Do you believe she could?’ he enquired, with a wry twisting of his lips—and left her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THERE were fewer guests for dinner than there had been for lunch, due no doubt to the weather conditions. In consequence, the attention given to their table was obsequious, and Cassandra had difficulty in hiding her embarrassment every time Jay was addressed as Mr Roland.

  Conversely, he seemed not to mind at all, his night-dark eyes meeting hers with lazy indulgence as he played his part to the full. She had not asked him what the receptionist had said when he went to book another room, but she could imagine the speculation his behaviour had evoked.

  For her own part, she could not deny having prepared for the meal with a certain amount of anticipation. Brushing her hair until it curled in loving tendrils about her forehead, applying a rich tinted shadow to her lids to accentuate the green brilliance of her eyes, coating her lips with a matching lustre, she had been aware of a growing excitement. She even knew a sense of regret that she had no choice when it came to what dress she was going to wear, but the dipping cowl neckline and wide raglan sleeves of the claret-coloured silk jersey looked reasonably acceptable to her critical eyes.

  Now, sitting across from Jay at the table, she found her gaze drifting irresistibly in his direction. What was he thinking, she wondered? as he crumbled the roll on his plate. Why had he come after her? What did he want? And equally disturbing, what did she want of him?

  It was difficult for her to assimilate her feelings. When her eyes lingered compulsively on the width of his shoulders, outlined beneath the dark blue suede of his jacket, she was made breathlessly aware of what he did to her. But it was this as much as anything that made her feel so insecure. She had wanted an affair, a casual relationship with no strings, that would rid her once and for al
l of the humiliating memories of her marriage to Mike Roland. But she was very much afraid she could not have that kind of relationship with Jay Ravek. In his own way, he could be equally destructive to her peace of mind.

  She sighed, dragging her eyes away from him and tackling the smoked salmon she had ordered. She was not afraid of sex, she thought, her mind refusing to abandon its theme. She was not afraid of going to bed with a man, which in her experience was a vastly overrated pastime. So what was there about Jay that made her wary? Surely her experiences with Mike had prepared her for any eventuality. It didn’t make sense. She only knew that when Jay had kissed her the night before, she had hovered on the brink of a yawning chasm she had not known was there. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps she was afraid. But of what?

  ‘I guess Liz thought I’d be annoyed when you chose not to leave with me last night,’ Jay remarked suddenly, breaking into her thoughts. ‘Who eventually took you home?’

  ‘I took myself home,’ replied Cassandra flatly. ‘And Liz was only thinking of me. She—she doesn’t trust you.’

  ‘Do you?’ The dark eyes gleamed with some emotion Cassandra could not identify, and she found it hard to look away.

  ‘Should I?’

  ‘That depends.’ His lips twisted. ‘I want you, but you know that. And Liz was right, I was annoyed last night—bloody annoyed. Why did you chicken out on me?’

  ‘I didn’t—chicken out.’

  ‘So why didn’t you come with me?’

  Cassandra shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, at least that’s honest,’ he remarked dryly. ‘Shall I tell you what I think?’

  Cassandra shrugged. ‘Could I stop you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She made a helpless gesture. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Okay.’ He paused. ‘When I met you at Damon Stafford’s reception; you let Liz Lester’s comments colour your opinion of me. Oh, I’m not denying she’s had grist to her mill. I guess we’ve all done things we’d rather forget, and I’m no different. But you mustn’t believe everything you hear.’

  ‘Nevertheless, you did believe I was married at that time.’

  ‘Sure, I did.’ He didn’t deny it. ‘As I told you last night, I’m no angel. But all you had to do was tell me no and I’d have got the message.’

  Cassandra pressed her lips together for a moment. ‘So?’

  ‘So, you didn’t tell me no, and I discovered that married or not, I needed to know more about Mrs Roland.’

  Cassandra quivered. ‘Needed?’

  ‘Yes, needed.’ He grimaced. ‘I was even prepared to believe that you had an unhappy marriage.’

  Cassandra lifted her shoulders. ‘How gallant!’

  ‘Yes, wasn’t I?’ His mouth took on a wry expression. ‘Anyway, after that lunch we had together, I made it my business to find out about you and your—late—husband. Mike Roland.’ His eyes slanted. ‘I’d never have believed it.’

  Cassandra frowned. ‘Did you know Mike?’

  ‘Personally, no. Of him—of course.’ Jay pushed the remainder of his smoked salmon aside. ‘Did you love him?’

  Cassandra’s face gained colour. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Jay sighed. ‘I’m sorry. If it’s painful for you to discuss it, then I won’t ask. But from what I hear, he wasn’t the most faithful of husbands.’

  Cassandra’s teeth bit into her lower lip. ‘You have no right—–’

  ‘I know, I know.’ Jay shifted impatiently. ‘But, God, Cass, this can’t be news to you. Mike Roland used to boast about his conquests. At one time, you couldn’t open the sports pages of any newspaper without seeing his face and that of some girl plastered all over it.’

  ‘As you said, you shouldn’t believe everything you read in the newspapers,’ said Cassandra tightly, then gulped when his hand covered one of hers.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I won’t say anything else. But you don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m not like Mike Roland.’

  ‘Aren’t you?’ Cassandra met his gaze steadily.

  ‘No,’ he assured her flatly. ‘Believe me.’

  She wanted to. With the warmth of his fingers enclosing hers, his thumb intimately probing her palm, she felt again that stirring sense of excitement. But then the waiter arrived to remove their plates, and embarrassment caused an instinctive withdrawal.

  The meal was as good as lunch had been, and endeavouring to lighten the mood, Cassandra brought up the subject of his name. ‘Jay,’ she said, repeating it cautiously. ‘Is that a name or an initial?’

  ‘It’s short for James, actually,’ he told her without enthusiasm. ‘But you can call me Alexei, if you’d rather. Personally, I don’t like either of them.’

  ‘Alexei?’ Cassandra’s eyes widened. ‘Of course—that’s Russian, isn’t it? I suppose your mother chose it.’

  ‘My mother?’ Jay’s expression grew quizzical, and too late she realised what she had admitted. ‘I suppose Liz is responsible for supplying all the dubious facts about my ancestry. I should have known she’d leave no stone unturned.’

  ‘It was Thea, actually,’ confessed Cassandra apologetically. ‘My mother-in-law. She—well, she remembered when your mother married Sir Giles Fielding.’

  ‘I see.’ Jay lay back in his chair. ‘And what else did she tell you?’

  Cassandra hesitated. ‘That—that your grandparents were emigrés at the time of the Revolution.’ She sighed. ‘I’m sorry if you think I was prying. But—but Thea thought I might find it interesting.’

  ‘And did you?’

  Cassandra sighed. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I suppose my being a bastard in fact as well as character confirmed the low opinion you had of me?’

  ‘No!’ Cassandra caught her breath. ‘That’s nothing to do with you.’

  ‘It doesn’t trouble you, then?’

  ‘Why should it?’

  He shrugged, as if reluctantly conceding the point. Then he said: ‘Alexei was my grandfather’s name, actually. Alexei Ravekov, late of the Tsar’s Imperial Guard.’ He grinned reminiscently. ‘He was quite a fire-eater, the old man.’

  Cassandra was intrigued. ‘Is he dead now?’ she ventured, and Jay’s mouth compressed before he nodded.

  ‘He died when I was about twelve years old,’ he replied heavily. ‘I guess you could say he was the only father I’ve ever known.’

  Cassandra waited until the waiter had served their steaks, and then she said quietly: ‘You didn’t—regard your stepfather—–’

  ‘I was eighteen by the time my mother married Giles,’ he told her flatly. ‘I left school and went straight to university. I guess you could say we tolerate one another. Nothing more.’

  ‘And—and your grandmother?’ The question spilled from Cassandra’s lips before she could prevent it.

  ‘She died before my grandfather,’ Jay answered, without hesitation. ‘They were very close. I don’t think the old man wanted to go on living after Sonya died.’

  ‘Sonya.’ The names were so attractive, and yet so alien. ‘That was her name.’

  ‘Sofia,’ Jay corrected quietly. ‘Sonya was the family’s name for her. I don’t think she ever quite got over having to leave Russia. They lost everything, you see. When they came to England, my grandfather only had enough money to pay their passage. They both had to work to support my mother.’

  Cassandra nodded. ‘She can’t have been very old.’

  ‘No. She was only a baby when they left St Petersburg in 1919.’

  It was a fascinating history, and Cassandra would have liked to ask more about his mother, but discretion forebade her. After all, Jay had not mentioned his real father at all, and unless he did, she could not.

  When the meal was over and they were leaving the restaurant, Jay suggested a walk. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘It will do us both good. We can’t talk in this place—not unless we go to your room.’

  ‘Or yours,’ put in Cassandra swiftly, and his dark brows lifted.

  ‘We
ll?’

  ‘We’ll go for a walk,’ she declared tautly, making for the stairs. ‘I’ll get my coat.’

  Jay watched her mount the stairs, and Cassandra was glad they were old and turned back upon themselves at the first landing. She was intensely conscious of his eyes upon her, but she couldn’t deny the feeling of excitement just being with him engendered.

  In her room, she threw off the jersey dress and replaced it with the trouser suit she had worn to travel in. Tucking the trouser legs into her boots, she surveyed her appearance critically, and then gave an impatient grimace at the flushed expectancy of her features. She must get a hold of herself, she chided, aware that this new confidence was still raw and vulnerable. She had to remember that their relationship was based on a physical attraction, nothing more, and that whatever Jay said, he meant no binding commitment. He was not promising anything, and if she went into this at all, she had to do so with her eyes open, not closed.

  Shaking her head, she turned away from the mirror and pulled on the hooded sheepskin she had worn earlier. With its fleecy lining creating a soft frame for her pink cheeks, she was unaware of how delightful she looked, but the man who watched her descending the stairs again had no doubts as to her desirability.

  He, too, had put on boots and a fur-lined overcoat, and Cassandra’s eyes widened in acknowledgement. ‘You went to your room, too?’ she murmured, unconsciously seeking his confirmation, and Jay nodded wryly before holding out his hand.

  ‘I went to my room, too,’ he agree, starting towards the porch. ‘Come on. It’s not snowing at the moment. I’ll show you where I used to live.’

  Cassandra’s surprise at the news that he had once lived in Cambridge was overridden by the disturbing warmth of his hand enclosing hers. She had not yet put on her gloves and nor had he, and with her permission, he drew her hand inside his pocket, warm against the muscled hardness of his hip.