A Passionate Affair Page 9

  By the time his mouth returned to hers, Cassandra had lost all sense of time and place. The awareness of her surroundings, the revealing light of the lamp beside the bed, even her own inhibitions, had all given way to a desire to please Jay as he was pleasing her, and her hands began their own investigation. Her fingers slid over the taut skin of his back, discovering the taut bones of his spine, curving over the contours of his hips, finding the experience totally satisfying. She wanted to go on, she wanted to take as long as he had in completing her arousal, but Jay’s hands prevented her as she would have continued.

  ‘No, Cass,’ he groaned, burying his face against her neck. ‘I want you now. I can’t wait any longer.’

  Cassandra shifted uneasily then. With unwelcome coherence his words had reminded her of all those wasted months and years with Mike, when she had had nothing to sustain her belief in herself except the faint hope that he might be wrong about her. Suddenly, that frail hope didn’t seem to be enough. If she was wrong, she would rather not know, and she twisted her head from side to side in an agony of self-recrimination.

  ‘Cass!’ Jay’s voice was half impatient as she raised her arm to cover her eyes. ‘Cass, what’s the matter? Don’t turn away from me. For God’s sake, not now.’

  ‘I—I—–’ Cassandra’s eyes were wild and tearful. ‘I can’t do this. You don’t know about me. I—I’m not like other women—–’

  Jay’s blue eyes narrowed. ‘Is that what Roland told you?’

  ‘Yes—no. I mean, I know it’s the truth—–’

  Jay swore softly, but succinctly. ‘Oh, Cass, you’re crazy,’ he breathed, caressing the corner of her mouth with his. ‘Doesn’t your body tell you you’re wrong? I don’t know what Roland told you, but believe me, you’re everything and more than any man could ever want.’

  ‘I am?’ Cassandra still couldn’t believe it, but Jay was making her believe it, forcing her to an awareness of her own body’s desires, carrying her with him beyond the point of no return.

  ‘God—Cass!’ he muttered, as her sweetness enveloped him, and she knew a momentary confusion as the pain she had expected did not materialise. On the contrary, it was a most satisfying experience, and her tenseness fled as he began to move within her. ‘Don’t—be afraid,’ he said roughly, against her lips, and a moist weakness flooded her being . . .

  CHAPTER SIX

  TIME spiralled back to reality some time around dawn. Cassandra awakened to the awareness of a heavy weight across her breasts, and a warm body close to hers beneath the fluffy quilt. For a moment she was disorientated, shocked into the belief that it was Mike beside her, that Mike was still alive. But even as a wave of horror swept over her at the memory of her husband’s violence, Jay stirred, and she turned her head and saw him.

  He was still asleep, and in the reflective light from the snow outside, his features had an unexpected vulnerability. With his hair tousled and the darkening shadow of his beard on his jawline, he looked younger and even more attractive, and her limbs weakened instinctively at the remembrance of his lovemaking.

  But as her heart somersaulted with sudden emotion, an equally strong sense of panic gripped her. Dear God, she thought unsteadily, she mustn’t allow herself to fall in love with him. She knew even now he could hurt her so much more than Mike had ever done.

  Yet she could not deny the feelings he had aroused the night before. She had lived for more than twenty-four years believing she was incapable of feeling or inspiring any strong emotion, but now she knew there had never been anything wrong with her. She was neither cold nor frigid. Jay had proved that to her, not once but twice, and in the aftermath of her fulfilment she had confessed the truth to him.

  In the morning light, however, she was experiencing an uneasy awareness of how dangerous it might be to give in to those human weaknesses. Jay had given her more than an awareness of her own sensuality. Her admittedly inexperienced desire to find someone—some man—she could have a relationship with bore no relation to what had happened between her and Jay. She had been looking for friendship, companionship, and perhaps love, though again her estimation of the man-woman relationship had been false. What she had found with Jay was more, so much more then she either expected or wanted, because she was very much afraid that with him, she could stand no half measures.

  After all, he was right. She had been attracted to him at the Stafford reception, but she had not known then how all-consuming that attraction might become. And he was not the kind of man she should—or could—expect any commitment from. Whatever exaggerations Liz had concocted, there was a grain of truth in what she had said, and Jay himself had admitted there had been other women. How many women, Cassandra did not wish to contemplate, acknowledging with a sense of disgust that to picture him in bed with another woman was to imagine the most refined form of torture.

  Besides, she told herself severely, she didn’t want that kind of commitment either. She had her career to think about, the career she had once before abandoned so cavalierly and lived to regret. One thing seemed certain: she should not ever see Jay again, in case her own weaknesses became evident to him.

  She edged reluctantly to the side of the bed, and holding her breath when he shifted in protest, she crawled out on to the floor. Moving quickly about the room, breathing shallowly all the time it took to gather her belongings together, she pushed them into her suitcase. She didn’t use the bathroom. She simply collected her toilet bag and toothbrush, and promised herself a shower as soon as she got home.

  It was cowardly, walking out on him like this, but she refused to consider any alternative. Yet, when she was dressed, she spent a few moments looking down at his sleeping form, fighting the almost irresistible urge to touch him. Would he understand what she was doing? Would he forgive her? Or would it not occur to him to think that she had to get away before his disturbing personality overrode all practical necessities?

  She had to hold on to her own identity. It was no use escaping a disastrous marriage to plunge into a disastrous love affair. Jay might want her now, but how long would it last? Six months? A year, if she was lucky? She couldn’t take that—not from him. She knew it. If she was ever foolish enough to put her heart into his keeping, she might never recover again.

  There was no one at the reception desk when she went downstairs, but as the rules of the hotel necessitated overnight guests paying for the rooms at the time of booking, she did not feel guilty as she carried her case out to the car.

  She did cast a fleeting glance up at the windows of the hotel before pulling through the arch that led out of the parking area, however. She wondered if Jay was still asleep. She hoped so. She had seen the sleek Ferrari parked in its bay and knew better than to imagine the Alfa could hope to outpace it. Her only advantage was the weather. In these conditions, all vehicles were reduced to a similar speed.

  The doorbell rang as Cassandra was stepping out of the shower. For a moment she was tempted to pretend she wasn’t at home, but then, forcing herself to reason logically, she realised she was only delaying the inevitable. Sooner or later she would have to meet Jay again, and the sooner it was over the better.

  Pausing long enough to put on a warm towelling bathrobe, she ran her fingers through the short waves and determinedly walked to the door. She would have preferred to meet him fully dressed, but after last night it would be foolish to exhibit a spurious modesty. Far better to behave as if she had been expecting him. It was the only way she might gain any advantage.

  She swung open the door, her expression carefully composed, polite words of greeting on her tongue—and found her mother-in-law outside. Thea was evidently dressed to go out, and she viewed her daughter-in-law’s appearance with obvious relief, and without waiting for an invitation stepped past her into the flat.

  ‘You could have rung me,’ she began, as Cassandra weakly closed the door behind her. ‘I had no idea that you were back until I saw your car downstairs. For heaven’s sake, Cass, you knew I would be worri
ed.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Cassandra spread her hands apologetically. ‘I was going to ring you, but I didn’t have time for a shower this morning, and I thought—–’

  ‘A shower? At two o’clock in the afternoon?’ Thea pulled the collar of her fur coat closer about her throat. ‘You’re sure you’re not angry with me? You don’t blame me for sending him after you?’

  ‘Blame you?’ Cassandra controlled her colour with difficulty. ‘Oh, you mean—Jay Ravek—–’

  Thea sighed. ‘Yes, I mean Jay Ravek, and—–’ she held up her hand as Cassandra would have spoken: ‘I should tell you, I rang the King’s Arms this morning, and they put me through to your room. It was ten o’clock, and—and he answered.’

  ‘Oh!’ Cassandra’s cheeks flamed then, and Thea hurried into her explanations:

  ‘I wanted to know what time you were coming back, what time to expect you. The weather has been so bad, and—oh, you know what a worrier I am.’

  ‘It’s all right, Thea.’

  ‘It’s not all right. I shouldn’t have poked my nose in.’ Thea sighed. ‘Oh, darling, I didn’t know what to do when he answered. I’m afraid I just rang off.’

  ‘I see.’ Cassandra’s lips twisted. Jay must have wondered who was calling her at that hour of the morning. But one thing was apparent. He had certainly not hurried after her. She had left at seven!

  ‘Did you guess it was me?’ Thea looked absurdly anxious, and Cassandra had to comfort her, even though it meant explaining she had not been there.

  ‘I—I left as soon as it was light,’ she said, trying to sound casual. ‘It seemed the simplest thing to do in the circumstances. I—we—it was a mistake. I—I shan’t be seeing him again.’

  ‘Oh, Cass!’ Thea looked troubled. ‘I feel so responsible.’

  ‘Why?’ Cassandra shook her head. ‘You didn’t make me go to bed with him.’

  ‘I told him where you were. I let him come after you.’

  ‘I don’t think you could have stopped him,’ retorted Cassandra flatly. ‘Jay Ravek is a law unto himself. Don’t be silly, Thea. I knew what I was doing.’

  ‘Did you?’ Thea studied her pale features apprehensively. ‘I suspect you’re still an innocent, in spite of everything.’ She sighed. ‘I only wanted you to see him. To speak to him. I thought—oh, I don’t know—he seemed so sincere.’

  ‘He is sincere—in his own way.’ Cassandra flopped down on to the sofa and looked up at her mother-in-law, her eyes warm with affection. ‘Darling, honestly, he didn’t hurt me. He—oh,’ she broke off abruptly, digging trembling fingers into her damp hair. ‘He was—very kind,’ she finished huskily.

  Thea glanced at her anxiously, then came down on the couch beside her. ‘Cass,’ she said earnestly, ‘darling, I think we should talk.’ She expelled her breath impatiently. ‘Damn Peggy Skinner! She made me promise to come over this afternoon. She has this house guest, from South America, who’s going to show us some slides of the Indians he’s been working with in the Amazon basin. You know what Peggy’s like—she always encourages these people, and then she has to canvass all her friends to support them. I told her I really didn’t feel like socialising, what with you being away, but she wouldn’t listen. She said it would do me good to get out for a while—–’

  ‘And so it will.’ Cassandra stifled her own disappointment and turned towards her firmly. ‘You go, Thea. You know you’ll enjoy it once you get there. And I—I have plenty to do.’

  ‘Such as what?’ Thea looked doubtful.

  ‘Oh, washing, ironing—I’ve even got some designs to finish for a Mrs Vance who wants her living-room doing over—–’

  ‘Cass—–’

  ‘Out,’ declared Cassandra lightly, getting to her feet, and her mother-in-law was obliged to get up too. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she added, accompanying her to the door. ‘But don’t hurry back on my account. I intend to have an early night.’

  With Thea’s departure, however, Cassandra experienced an intense feeling of depression. She told herself it was hardly surprising, in the circumstances, but she was forced to acknowledge that the news that Jay had still been at the hotel several hours after her departure was something she found hard to swallow. She had been convinced he would follow her. She had been sure that once he discovered she was gone, he would come after her. But to learn that he had still been sleeping almost three hours after she had left the hotel was vaguely humiliating. And he certainly hadn’t rushed back to town after Thea had made her call. It was almost three o’clock now.

  She stopped herself there. What on earth was she thinking about? Why should she imagine Jay would let her know when he got back to town? Why should he? He had no reason to do so. And until her mother-in-law rang her doorbell the idea had not even occurred to her. After all, she had run out on him. He had had what he wanted, so why shouldn’t he let her go? It was all part and parcel of what she had been thinking earlier. So far as Jay was concerned, there was no commitment—on either side.

  In spite of her reasoning, however, Cassandra found it hard to get through the next few hours. To silence the taunting voices that continued inside her head, she put on an old pair of jeans and a shabby cotton shirt and set about cleaning the apartment. It wasn’t big so it didn’t take much time, but she got a great deal of satisfaction in working herself to exhaustion. By the time she had finished, the place was gleaming with polish, and the delicious smell of lavender scented the rooms.

  Her phone rang around five, but it was only Chris, checking to see whether she had ordered the fabric for re-upholstering a moth-eaten old chaise-longue they had found in the house at Windsor. Most of the furniture they had found in the house had been too eaten up with woodworm to rescue, but the Victorian sofa had been in a reasonable state of repair, and Cassandra had been attracted by its scrolled legs.

  ‘You okay?’ asked Chris perceptively, after she had assured him that the material had been ordered. ‘You sound down in the dumps. I gather your weekend didn’t come off.’

  ‘Something like that.’

  Cassandra was non-communicative, and Chris gave a knowing grunt. ‘I see. Like that, is it?’ he commented drily. ‘So—how’d you like yours truly to come round and cheer you up, huh? I could always cook supper. I’m quite a dab hand around the kitchen. I have to be here!’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  Cassandra was finding it an effort just being civil at the moment and reluctantly Chris got the message. ‘Okay,’ he said resignedly. ‘But don’t say I didn’t offer!’ and he rang off before she could respond.

  Replacing her own receiver, Cassandra knew a momentary pang of regret. She could have done with Chris’s inconsequent chatter right now. But it wouldn’t be fair to use him, and put his marriage in jeopardy. Marriage! Her lips twisted bitterly. Definitely an outmoded institution!

  When her doorbell rang at nine o’clock, she went to answer it without hesitation. She assumed it was Thea, back from Mrs Skinner’s and ready for a cosy confab over the teacups, but once again she was wrong. This time it was Jay who was propped against the wall beside her door, and she was instantly aware of the sight she must look in the disreputable shirt and jeans, her face bare of all make-up and her hair uncombed. Damn, she thought, why had she allowed resentment and depression to blind her to every eventuality? She should have known a man like Ravek would know all the moves in the game.

  ‘Can I come in?’ he enquired expressionlessly, looking over her shoulder, as if he half expected her to have company, and Cassandra took a deep breath.

  ‘Why?’

  His mouth took on a downward slant. ‘Don’t ask silly questions, Cass, there’s a good girl.’ He straightened away from the wall, impaling her with his dark gaze. ‘Are you alone?’

  ‘If it’s any concern of yours, then yes, I am,’ she replied tautly, though she was far from sure of herself. ‘I don’t know why you’ve come here, but—–’

  ‘Oh, spare me that, at least,’ he exclaimed harshly,
moving forward so that she had either to face up to him or step aside. ‘Come on, you might as well let me in. I’m not going to leave here until we have this out.’

  ‘Have what out?’ But Cassandra moved back anyway, knowing herself for a coward as he strolled into her living room.

  ‘You know what I mean.’ He turned to face her as she reluctantly closed the door, and she thought she could smell whisky on his breath. He was by no means drunk, nor anywhere near it, but her palms moistened anxiously as she waited for him to go on.

  ‘Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?’ he asked, dark brows quirking above his lean brooding face. He was still wearing the navy suede suit he had worn the night before, but the cream silk shirt was different, and she wondered inconsequently if he had been home to change. Home! She had no idea where his home was, nor indeed, she realised bitterly, whether he lived alone.

  ‘I only have sherry,’ she said now, moving her shoulders offhandedly, and he nodded.

  ‘Okay, that will have to do,’ he acknowledged, ignoring the fact that she hadn’t offered him any, and with a feeling of helplessness, she walked into the kitchen.

  When she came back, he was examining the Fragonard print she had bought with the proceeds of her first commission, but he turned politely as she came in and took the glass she reluctantly proffered.

  ‘Aren’t you joining me?’ he asked, as she took care to avoid touching his fingers, and she shook her head tensely, shunning a reply.

  ‘I like your flat,’ he remarked, trying the dry sherry and evidently finding it to his taste. ‘Small, but elegant.’ He paused. ‘Like you.’

  ‘I’m not small,’ she retorted, nonetheless aware of her low heels. ‘I’m five feet six.’

  ‘Minds are not always relevant to physical stature,’ he responded mockingly, raising his glass, and Cassandra’s breathing quickened in tenor with her pulse.

  It was useless to pretend she could dismiss the fact that less than twenty-four hours ago, they had been dining together. Despite her enforced detachment, she couldn’t help being aware of him, and her brain could not erase the knowledge of how he had looked without his clothes . . .