Читать книгу Desire Never Changes - Пенни Джордан, PENNY JORDAN - Страница 5

‘SOMER, you’re sure you’ll be all right?’

‘Daddy, of course I will.’ Soft dimples showed briefly in the delicate, pale skin Somer had often been told was a true Celtic heritage, along with her fine black hair and eyes which changed from stormy grey to glowing amethyst, depending on her mood. Today they glowed an excited violet, her impatience with her father’s concern hastily suppressed as she tried to console him. It was barely three months since she had left school and come home to Scotland and her father was still very obviously bemused by her swift transition from girl-child to woman.

He had been concerned when she first told him that she and Andrew wanted to get engaged, pointing out that she was only eighteen and knew nothing of life. Much as her own mother must have been at the same age, Somer had countered resolutely, and yet she had been a mother at nineteen. Her father’s face had clouded when she mentioned her mother. It was ten years since she had died, and Somer’s baby brother with her, but Sir Duncan MacDonald had never married again. He had been just another poor Highland laird when he had married Catriona Sefton, but now he was a very wealthy man; a large shareholder in the North Sea’s privately owned Sefton oilfield, named after his wife, and although he didn’t communicate them to Somer, he had all a wealthy father’s fears for his only daughter. He sighed, looking at her, her small, heart-shaped face glowing with excitement and anticipation. Six months ago at Christmas he had been away in the Middle East on business and she had not been able to come home from school. Instead she had accepted an invitation to stay with a school-friend and her family on Jersey and it was there that she had met Andrew Hollister—had met him and fallen wildly in love with him.

Duncan MacDonald had not yet met his prospective son-in-law. Andrew was in hotel management and worked at an hotel in Jersey. He and Somer had corresponded when she went back to school and Somer had spent Easter with him, returning with the small solitaire engagement ring which she had worn ever since.

She had wanted to be married straight away but her father had prevailed upon her to wait at least until she was nineteen. Because she loved him she had agreed, and now as she waited to board her plane Somer glanced worriedly at him. Although he had not said so, she sensed that her father did not entirely approve of her engagement. She knew that he thought eighteen was too young to commit herself to marriage, but she knew how she felt about Andrew; knew that their love would last for ever. Her father had forgotten what it was like to be eighteen and so deeply in love that every second apart was unbearable agony. She glanced down at her engagement ring, watching the prisms of light thrown off by the small diamond, remembering how tenderly Andrew had kissed her finger as he slid it into place.

Boarding school had kept her rather more innocent than most girls her age; the only boys she had met prior to Andrew had been the brothers of school-friends, or boys from a neighbouring boys’ school. Andrew at twenty-four to her eighteen had dazzled her with his easy charm; his warm smile and the careless touch of his fingers against her skin, promising undreamed of delights and yet experienced enough to know that she wasn’t yet quite ready for the intimacies of lovers. They would wait until they were married, he had whispered at Easter, when his passionate kisses had made her take fright, and her heart had swelled with love and gratitude for his understanding.

But now her father was insisting that they wait until she was nineteen—nine long months away and during that time Andrew could be posted anywhere by his company. The first time they met he had told her of his hopes and plans for the future, unburdening himself to her in a way which had made her feel very grown up. Andrew wanted to own his own hotel, a luxurious Eden catering for the wealthy, preferably in the Caribbean, but he had a long way to go before he reached that goal, he had told Somer ruefully. He had been acting Assistant Manager at the Group’s Jersey hotel for nearly eighteen months and was hoping for an early promotion.

‘Just think, we could start our married life in Barbados,’ he had told Somer at Easter, and although she had been thrilled to hear him talk of their life together, there had been pain as well in the knowledge that a posting to Barbados would take her far away from the father she was only just beginning to know. On her return from school her father had suggested that she might care to act as his hostess. His position as head of Sefton Oil involved a great deal of business entertaining, of visiting other oil-producing countries and of entertaining overseas visitors in return, and after her first month at home which had been filled with apprehension and fear Somer had discovered that she actually enjoyed her new role and that she seemed to have a talent for it. Her father’s Aberdeen home was large and gracious and he employed an excellent cook-cum-housekeeper, Mrs McLeod, who had warmly welcomed Somer’s assistance.

‘There’s my flight now,’ Somer told her father, ‘I’d better go.’ She reached up, kissing his cheek. ‘Daddy, please stop worrying. I love Andrew and he loves me. Everything’s going to be fine.’

The smile he gave her was slightly strained, and he wondered what his daughter would say if she knew of the investigations he had had carried out on the man she loved. They had shown nothing to his detriment. He had no money apart from his salary, but there had been a time when Duncan MacDonald himself had been in that position and he was not the man to hold lack of wealth against another. He had enough money to support half a dozen sons-in-law. He moved closer to the barrier, intent on catching a final glimpse of Somer. Her heritage was all Celtic and there had been times after his wife’s death when he had worried about his delicately strung daughter, so quick to feel pain, both her own and that of others, but there was always that bedrock of MacDonald pride for her to fall back on; that grim resoluteness that acted as a counterweight to her Celtic mysticism. This was her heritage, and he could no more stop her from receiving it than he could hold back the tides.

Safely on board the plane taking her to Andrew, Somer had no inkling of the sombreness of her father’s thoughts. Named after Somerled, the great warrior Lord of the Isles, her mind was not on the past but firmly riveted on her golden future. Of course Andrew would be as disappointed as she was that they could not be married sooner. He had urged her to try to persuade her father to change his mind, but she knew he would understand that she felt that she could not do so. That was one of the things she most liked about Andrew. He was so understanding, so caring of other people’s views; he had even chided her gently when she had come close to losing her temper when her father had urged her not to marry straight away. ‘It’s only natural that he should want to keep you a little longer,’ he had told her with that whimsical smile of his that made her heart flutter so. ‘And I can afford to be generous. After all I’ll have you for the rest of our lives.’

Dear, darling Andrew. She closed her eyes and lay back in her seat, slowly visualising him, her body trembling in anticipation of their reunion. She loved everything about him from the way his fair hair curled round his head to the hard compactness of his muscular body. It was true that he wasn’t quite as tall as her father. Duncan MacDonald was well over six foot while Andrew stopped just short of five foot ten, but since she herself was barely five four, it hardly mattered. Elfin was the way he described her, and a shiver of apprehension suddenly ran through her. She wasn’t particularly beautiful, not blonde or curvaceous; she lacked the self-possession of many of the other women Andrew knew. But it was her he loved, she reminded herself. As though to reassure herself that it wasn’t all a dream she glanced down at her ring, and then extracted a small mirror from her bag, quickly checking her make-up. She wondered if Andrew would notice and approve of the new way she was doing her eyes. Soft, muted shadows enhanced their violet depths, a discreet rimming of kohl adding to their air of mystery. Her skin was without blemish, flawless and very fair. Too fair, she often thought, certainly too fair to expose unwarily to the sun. She thought rebelliously of the tanned holidaymakers frequenting the hotel at Easter, and then reminded herself that she was the one Andrew wanted; that it was her long night-black hair that he preferred; her slender body and pale skin.

‘The trouble with you is that you just don’t make enough of yourself.’ That had been the criticism of Somer’s greatest friend at school, the same outward-going, pretty brunette who had introduced her to Andrew. She had gained in self-confidence since meeting Andrew, but she knew she still had a long way to go before she came anywhere near to achieving the same smooth sophisticated self-confidence possessed by say, Judith Barnes, the senior receptionist at Andrew’s hotel.

Judith was tall and blonde, with a heavy mane of hair that cascaded down on to her shoulders. Her face was always flawlessly made up, her clothes discreetly elegant. She had the sort of figure that men always gave a second glance, and Somer had sensed right from the start that Judith despised her, although she had no idea why. When she had tried tentatively to broach the subject with Andrew he had simply shrugged and laughed. ‘Judith’s a woman, little baby,’ he had teased her. ‘The sort of woman who’s only really interested in men.’

‘A man-eater.’ That was how her friend Claire had described the receptionist, and yet Somer had sensed a very real antipathy towards her personally, in the older girl’s manner, despite the politeness with which it was cloaked.

The flight to Jersey was only a short one, and it seemed to Somer that no sooner had she stepped on to the plane than she was stepping off into the bright July sunshine. Andrew had promised to meet her, but there was no sign of him by the time she had collected her luggage. She was just debating whether she ought to hire a taxi when a small white sports car came racing towards her, stopping with an impatient screech of tires only yards away.

When Judith Barnes stepped out, glamorous as always in a pair of dazzling white bermuda shorts and brief top in the same colour that clung to her curves and showed off her deep tan, Somer felt her heart plummet downwards. There would be no doubt that Judith had come to meet her and that she was impatient, it showed in every line of her elegant figure as she strode to where Somer was standing.

‘Look, there’s no hired help around here,’ she announced curtly as she indicated the open boot of her car. ‘The only way those cases are going to get back to the hotel is if you pick them up. I’ve done my bit coming to collect you and that’s only because Drew asked me to. What on earth have you brought with you?’ she added with arrogant amusement staring at the two large cases by Somer’s side. ‘A whole new wardrobe to bedazzle Drew?’ She laughed mockingly. ‘Hasn’t anyone ever told you that all you need is what nature gave you? Although I suppose in your case, she was a bit ungenerous.’

Cold blue eyes flicked from Somer’s neatly suit-clad figure to her own shapely body, and Somer felt a familiar clenching of muscles inside her which she dimly recognised as intense anger. Firmly dismissing it, she picked up one of her cases and carried it to the car, heaving it into the boot before returning for the other.

The drive to the hotel was a tense one. In addition to her disappointment that Andrew wasn’t able to collect her, Somer had to contend with her growing dislike of Judith. The road they took was narrow, as indeed were most of the island roads, and not built for high speeds, but despite this Judith insisted on driving well in excess of the limit, and on several occasions Somer was forced to clutch on to the side of the car as they screeched dangerously round a bend.

‘Scared?’ Judith mocked as she took the turn that led down to the Hermitage Hotel and its private beach. ‘Poor little scaredy-girl, how on earth are you going to keep Drew, if you’re scared of a little bit of speed? Little girls should stick to their own league,’ she added tauntingly.

Somer said nothing, unable to trust herself to speak without betraying the temper she could feel raging through her. ‘Never say anything in the first heat of anger,’ her father had once warned her. ‘It’s a common MacDonald failing, and one our clan has had to pay dearly for in the past. Always count to ten, always think about the repercussions of what you’re going to say.’

It had been good advice; she recognised that and so now she averted her face and concentrated on Andrew’s image, denying Judith the satisfaction of knowing that her barbs had hurt.

The hotel forecourt was full of cars, a sign that business was good, Somer assumed as she opened her door and swung out. The Hermitage hotel was one of the most prestigious on the island although quite small. In addition to the hotel, the Group also owned several acres of land around it and three small private beaches. At Easter Andrew had told her that had the hotel been his, he would have used the land to build small holiday cottages on the same luxurious lines as those favoured in the Caribbean, and she had applauded his eager enthusiasm for his job.

As she followed Judith to the main entrance, sounds of laughter and splashing water reached her from the outdoor pool area.

‘Here’s the key for your room,’ Judith announced ungraciously, walking behind the reception desk and removing a key which she handed to Somer, completely ignoring the other girl on reception—a newcomer since Somer’s last visit. ‘I’ll get someone to take your stuff up.’

The casual comment did not deceive Somer for one minute. She doubted that her cases would appear in her room until Judith was good and ready to see that they did so, and another frisson of anger shook through her. Scrupulously honest herself, Somer had insisted on booking into the hotel as a guest; her room was quite an expensive one, and she had been glad of the generous cheque her father had given her a month ago to cover the cost and allow her a little extra to refurbish her wardrobe, although wisely she had left beach clothes off her list knowing that she would find a dazzlingly attractive selection in St Helier. Now Judith was treating her much in the manner of a grand lady towards a lowly governess rather than an employee to a hotel guest, but both of them knew that Somer would not complain. Even so she found the courage to say coolly, ‘If you’ll just tell me where I can find Andrew, I’ll let him know that I’m here.’

‘He’ll be having his break,’ Judith responded just as coolly. ‘Guests aren’t allowed in staff quarters. I’ll leave a message for him when he comes back on duty.’

Sensing that to argue would simply demean herself, So-mer took her key and walked towards the lift. Another guest was also waiting for it, a tall man dressed carelessly in faded, frayed shorts which had once been pale denim and were now bleached to a soft bluey grey by constant exposure to sun and salt. The rest of his body was bare and richly tanned and against her will Somer found her gaze drawn to the lean muscularity of it. Dark hair formed an aggressively masculine T-shape across his chest, tapering downwards to disappear beneath the faded denims.

A small sound that could have been either derision or amusement jerked her head back, the shock of cool green eyes smoothly sliding the length of her body in sensual assessment that was far more comprehensive and swift than her own bashful study of his body, jolting her into a blushing awareness that the lift had arrived and that he was waiting for her to precede him into it.

The moment the lift door closed she felt uncomfortable with their enforced intimacy. What was the matter with her, she chided herself mentally. The man lounging so easily beside her was far too physically compelling, far too masculinely attractive to need to attack women in lifts to get his sexual satisfaction. A brief darted glance at him confirmed her earlier impression of languid indolence. If she hadn’t stared so foolishly at him outside the lift he would probably never even have noticed her. She had brought his brief, sexual appraisal of her down on her own shoulders.

Instinctively she knew that he was a man who would always respond to female sexuality; that he was one of those men who possess a seventh sense that enables them to tune in to a woman’s response to them. He was the kind of man she could imagine appealing to the Judiths of this world. Undoubtedly sexually skilled and knowledgeable, and yet possessed of a certain basic raw masculinity that meant that despite that skill there would always be an element of subjugation that would always make him the possessor of a woman’s body; the wholly dominant male.

Without knowing why she found herself taking a pace back, as though somehow he threatened her, even though he hadn’t so much as moved. She could sense that he was watching her, assessing her with those incredible jade eyes, the hard-boned masculine face no doubt making no secret of his amusement at her gauche reaction.

When the lift stopped at her floor she heaved a faint sigh of relief, quickly checked when he stepped out of it behind her. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly in front of her, her legs suddenly as shaky and unsupportive as a newly born colt’s. So aware was she of his presence that she could almost feel the heat of his body against her back, wrapping her in sensual awareness, almost suffocating her, her mind a jumble of confused impressions. She found her door, and then dropped her key as she tried to insert it in the lock, tensing as she felt him stop behind her and retrieve it for her, easily sliding it into place.

When his thumb pushed aside the thick fall of her hair to rub the vulnerable spot just behind her ear she nearly jumped out of her skin, her eyes widening in shocked disbelief, so deeply violet that they were almost black.

Wicked amusement danced in jade-green depths, so deep that she could almost have drowned in them, the hard masculine mouth curling in faint derision as his thumb slid from her ear down her throat resting on the place where her pulse throbbed betrayingly.

‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ Her voice, which she had wanted to sound sharp and cold, sounded breathy and faintly husky.

‘Just testing to see if you actually are still wet behind the ears,’ he drawled mockingly in response. ‘I don’t know who let you out alone without your leading reins, little girl, but they sure as hell must be worrying about you.’

To Somer’s relief, he removed his fingers from her skin, although it still burned where they had been, her flesh feeling as though it were on fire. Not until she was safely inside her room with the door locked did she dare to relax, flinging herself face down on her bed and letting the tremors she had suppressed outside race violently through her. Andrew had been at first disbelieving and then faintly annoyed when she had told him that she was still a virgin. When she had questioned him about it, a little hurt to discover that he was not pleased as she had expected him to be, he had said simply that sex was more fun when one had more experience. He must have sensed her distress though because he had taken her in his arms afterwards and told her not worry about it, but comforting though his words had been, she had been left with a tiny nagging core of uncertainty. She had always assumed that the man she loved would treasure the gift of her virginity, not consider it as some sort of nuisance.

Now, alone in her room these doubts returned to plague her. Even a stranger seemed to know that she was inexperienced, ‘wet behind the ears’, as he had said so mockingly, with a look in his eyes that told her that he was anything but the same. For some reason as she lay on the bed it was the stranger’s dark green eyes and thick black shock of hair that forced its way into her mind’s eye and not Andrew’s fair attractiveness.

Suddenly restless she got up and walked across to the window. She had a view of the hotel gardens; the tennis courts and swimming-pool spread out immediately below her flower-festooned balcony, and beyond it the shrubs of the natural garden and the cliff that led down to the sea, an impossible blue on this perfect summer’s day.

Still feeling restless she rang room service and ordered a pot of tea, wondering when her luggage would arrive. The sight of Judith in her brief white outfit and the holidaymakers down below, enjoying themselves by the pool, made her feel dowdy in her sensible lightweight wool suit, smart enough for shopping in Aberdeen, and bought from a very good shop, but somehow out of place in her present surroundings.

When the tea arrived but her luggage still had not she rang down to reception relieved to find that Judith wasn’t on duty. The girl who answered was pleasant and promised to have her cases sent straight up. Encouraged by her friendly manner Somer asked if she knew where Andrew might be found. There was a brief pause and the girl’s voice changed, a faintly hesitant note entering it.

‘I’m not sure,’ she told Somer. ‘I think he might be in the office at the moment.’

Thanking her Somer rang off. Andrew had promised that he would take a few days’ holiday while she was staying at the hotel and that they could be alone together to talk over their plans. Suddenly Somer longed for him to be with her; to take her into his arms and kiss away all her doubts and fears, to obliterate completely the face of the mocking stranger who made her feel so aware of her inadequacies.

When her luggage arrived she unpacked carefully, selecting a pale lemon wrap-round skirt in cool cotton and a toning tee-shirt, which she changed into as soon as she had showered. Feeling more in keeping with the other guests she debated whether to remain in her room and wait for Andrew, or to walk through the gardens. In the event the decision was made for her. She was just finishing her second cup of tea when she heard a rap on her door.

‘It’s me, darling,’ Andrew’s familiar voice called. ‘Open the door.’

‘Andrew!’ Her cheeks pink with excitement Somer flung herself bodily into his arms, her face raised for his kiss.

‘Let me get inside.’ Andrew laughed, but there was faint uneasiness in his eyes as he glanced down the empty corridor. ‘I am supposed to be on duty you know.’

‘I was hoping you would meet me at the airport.’ They were inside the room now, but Andrew had made no move to take her back in his arms.

‘Oh come on, darling, don’t sulk.’ Impatience edged his voice, normally so warm and loving. Tears suddenly, and appallingly, threatened, despite her efforts to blink them away. She was behaving like a child, what was wrong with her? Andrew saw the betraying sheen and was instantly apologetic.

‘Darling, I’m a miserable brute, but it’s just that I’m so tired. I’ve had to put in extra time to make sure I could take a few days off while you’re here. Forgive me for not being there, but I did send Judith, so at least you were met by a familiar face.’

Suppressing the desire to tell him that she would have been far happier with a completely strange one Somer moved back towards him. His hands cupped her shoulders, and he bent, kissing the corner of her mouth lightly, but despite the caress he was still holding her away from him and she had to suppress a feeling of disappointment. Of course he was tired, and probably the last thing he felt like was making love to her. Traitorous as a serpent the thought slithered into her mind that the stranger in the lift would never been too tired to make love, would never hold the woman he loved at arm’s length when she could be moulded against his body, matching the heavy thud of his heartbeat. Quelling the thought she smiled up at Andrew, reminded herself of her recent proud boast to her father that she was grown up and adult.

‘It’s all right, darling,’ she said softly, ‘I do understand. We can talk at dinner tonight.’

His arms dropped to his sides, and he turned slightly away from her, fiddling with the lamp on the dressing-table. Her room was elegantly furnished with pretty cane furniture, its colour-scheme soft blues and greys, a soft, thick pile carpet in soft blue echoing the same colour.

‘Somer, I’m sorry, I can’t have dinner with you tonight. I’ve got a meeting on with the Manager—something I just can’t get out of. Look, why don’t you have something sent up to your room and get an early night. Tomorrow we can talk, make plans…You must be tired anyway after your journey.’

Somer forbode to point out that a flight of little over an hour was hardly an exhausting ordeal, meekly acceding to his suggestion and wishing the tiny nagging pain inside her would go away instead of flaring into life.

With a brief peck on her cheek Andrew left her. Feeling completely deflated, not knowing what to do with herself after the anti-climax of their reunion. Somer stared blindly out across the gardens and then glanced at her watch. It was six o’clock and the evening stretched emptily in front of her, the thought of a solitary meal in her room somehow unappealing.

Crushing the disloyal thought that suggested that Andrew might have made some time to spend with her on her very first evening, as being that of a child, not the adult she had proclaimed so vehemently to her father that she was, Somer decided that a walk through the gardens might help banish the fit of miseries that hovered threateningly.

She found that she had them almost completely to herself when she walked through the foyer and out into the open air, the pool now almost deserted, only one lone figure distorting the smooth blue water as he cleaved it with the sure overarm motions of a strong crawl. The dark head lifted just long enough for Somer to recognise the unmistakable features of the stranger from the lift, and she faltered just long enough to recognise herself and be dismayed by her own reluctance to cross the pool area in case she excited his attention for a second time in one day.

Her thoughts, as she made her way through the gardens, were all of her unsatisfactory reunion with Andrew. Her body ached with that same indefinable torment she had experienced at Easter, and she could only wonder at Andrew’s greater self-control. She wanted to be married to him now, she thought rebelliously, not in nine months’ time. It was all very well for her father to say that they would have the rest of their lives to spend together, but right now the nine months he had said they must wait seemed like a lifetime. After this holiday she wouldn’t see Andrew again until Christmas. He had a month off then and was going to spend it in Aberdeen with Somer and her father. It would be the first time the two most important men in her life met, and she was desperately anxious for them to like one another.

Andrew was already predisposed to like her father, she knew. Even when Sir Duncan had insisted that they must wait before marrying Andrew had not lost his temper or protested. He could understand her father’s point of view, he had admitted, and in fact he had been the one to assure her that her father was only acting out of concern for her, Somer remembered, thinking back to that occasion. Unfortunately she couldn’t entirely escape the conviction that her father was not equally responsive towards Andrew. Nothing specific had been said, but she had sensed a certain lack of enthusiasm which was not entirely connected with her age, a certain tension in her father’s voice whenever she mentioned Andrew’s name.

It was over an hour before she returned from her walk, noticing as she did so that dusk was already crowding the vividly beautiful sunset from the sky, reminding her of how much further south Jersey was than Aberdeen where the light nights continued well into the autumn.

Judith was back on duty on reception when Somer walked in. She was talking to the stranger from the lift, now dressed semi-formally in an open-throated soft white shirt that emphasised the tanned column of his throat and tapering black trousers which drew Somer’s bemused gaze to the leanly muscled power of his thighs. He moved slightly as though aware of her scrutiny, even though he couldn’t possibly have seen her where she stood in the shadows of the doorway, flexing his body slightly like a large muscular cat taking pleasure in the fluid response of bone and sinew. Judith followed the brief movement with admiring eyes, leaning slightly forward across the desk so that her blouse tightened revealingly across her breasts. The dark head inclined and although Somer could not see his expression, she guessed that there was an unmistakable sensual appreciation in the jade eyes as they studied the curvaceous outline of Judith’s breasts.

He moved away at last, his business obviously concluded, and Somer almost shrank back into the shadows as he headed for the open main doors and out into the dusk beyond.

‘Now that’s what I call a man,’ Judith smirked as Somer approached the desk and requested her key. ‘Not that you would know what I mean. A man like that would make you run a mile wouldn’t he, little scaredy-cat?’

The mocking taunt stung, and Somer grabbed for her key, colour high in her cheeks. To hide her agitation she asked huskily, ‘Is he a guest here?’

‘You could say that. He’s Chase Lorimer, the photographer. He’s been here for three weeks—working. If you can call taking pictures of bikini-clad models working.’ Judith gave a softly sensual laugh. ‘I must say if he was photographing me it wouldn’t take him long to coax me out of my clothes and into his arms. He’s all man,’ she said it admiringly, ‘and an extremely experienced one at that, if the gossip’s anything to go by. Why the interest?’ she asked, adding tauntingly, ‘Surely you aren’t entertaining hopes in that direction yourself? You wouldn’t stand a chance, he’s been besieged by beautiful women ever since he got here, and even now that his current girlfriend’s gone back to London with the rest of the models, he hasn’t shown any interest in anyone else. And he’d certainly never show any in a frightened little innocent like you,’ she finished derisively, glancing up and down Somer’s slender body. ‘You just haven’t got what it takes, Somer, and I doubt you ever will have. No girl who’s hung on to her virginity as long as you have will ever make a man a satisfactory bed partner.’

‘Andrew wants me.’

Later Somer was to ask herself what had prompted her into such a rash speech. Surely it wasn’t a desire to score off on Judith; to turn the tables and make her pride sting a little.

‘Does he?’ Judith’s smile taunted her. ‘Are you sure about that, Somer? Couldn’t he wait to take you in his arms the moment you got here? Are you spending tonight in his bed? Does he want you so much that he can’t hide his desire for you every time he sees you. Is that how it is between the two of you?’

Her contemptuous laughter followed Somer as she fled towards the lift, each cruel word a barb biting deep into her heart. How could Judith so easily unearth her own secret fears and doubts; how could she have known of her own disquiet that Andrew had not appeared more eager to be with her; to touch her and kiss her as she was longing for him to do? Andrew respected her innocence and inexperience, she told herself, trying to calm her uneasy nerves as she headed for her room. Of course his self-control must put a strain on him; that same strain she had sensed when he walked into her room. Of course the reason he hadn’t kissed her as she had wanted him to do was that he was concerned that their lovemaking might get out of control. Andrew was only acting out of concern for her, and it was both foolish and childish of her to wish that he would sweep her off her feet and into his bed and that he would tell her that it was impossible for him to resist the enticement of her body; that his love and desire for her were so great that he must possess her.

Thoroughly confused by her own feelings Somer opened the door of her room, locking it firmly behind her before going on to her small balcony, trying to will away the self-pitying loneliness that swept her. In Aberdeen her father would be dining with business associates as he so often did during the week. At the weekend he was going to stay with an old friend. They would spend it fishing, her father’s favourite sport. She sighed, half wishing that her father would marry again. She would have enjoyed having brothers and sisters, and her father would be lonely once she was married, but when she had broached the subject he had told her that he had loved her mother too much to contemplate putting someone else in her place. She hadn’t doubted that he spoke the truth, and she flushed a little remembering her impassioned cry after she had first met Andrew, that her father didn’t understand how she felt.

‘I understand all too well, lassie,’ he had told her grimly. ‘I can remember what it feels like to fall in love, and how impetuous girls of eighteen can be. Your mother was that age when I first met her, and although you were born ten months after our marriage, you could easily have arrived very much earlier. Some things never change,’ he had concluded wryly, ‘and human desire is one of them. You may think because I’m your father that I don’t understand how you feel. It’s because I do that I’m so worried for you, but I doubt that you’ll heed me any more than Catriona and I heeded her father, although these days, things being what they are, I suppose I needn’t concern myself too much with the possibility of an unexpected grandchild.’

That assumption on her father’s part as well as driving the rich colour to her face had brought a stumbled protest to her lips that Somer realised with the benefit of hindsight, had been half surprised. Had her father really believed that she and Andrew were already lovers? From his frank statements to her about his relationship with her mother it seemed plain that they had not waited for marriage before consummating their love.

Thoroughly dissatisfied with the train of her thoughts Somer decided impulsively that she had to speak to Andrew. Not now tonight when she knew he was in conference with the hotel management, but first thing tomorrow morning before his working day started. She knew where his room was, and although staff quarters were forbidden to the guests, she knew she could find her way there unnoticed. Half hidden by the clutter of thoughts milling in her brain was the hope that by taking such action she might precipitate the intimacy Andrew had previously been at pains to avoid and that seeing her in his room might urge him to forget caution and only remember their love. Her blood heated to fever pitch at the thought, her body eagerly yearning for the close proximity of his, sensations as yet only half understood coursing through her veins.

Andrew! His name was on her lips when sleep finally claimed her, but inexplicably her dreams held not Andrew’s fair attractiveness, but the dark compulsion of a far different man. A man who shared Judith’s contempt of her, who laughed at her and called her a silly child, even while his green eyes told her that he found nothing childish in the soft curves of her body and if he wished it he could easily take her beyond childhood and into womanhood. ‘No…’ She moaned the denial in her sleep, moving restlessly beneath the light quilt, trying to escape from her dreams and the threat they seemed to hold.