Heart On Fire Part 11

"I wanted you the minute I set eyes on you," he muttered.

"Why did you turn me down and take my brother? Why, d.a.m.n you?" Heshook her, his fingers digging into her flesh, and she couldn't lookaway from his face, she was half-afraid, and yet half-excited, too. Hewanted her. Her pulses were going crazy at the thought. She had knownthat, though, hadn't she? He wanted her--but how many others had hewanted, and briefly had, only to forget them? Was that what she wantedto happen to her? That wasn't the sort of relations.h.i.+p she wanted withany man. l.u.s.t burnt out like a struck match; love was the only firethat lasted.

She had to stop him while she still could, so she said sharply,

"I.

prefer Stephen, but that's my bus' mess not yours. Just let go of me,will you? " His face was dark with angry colour, and although he waslistening to her he didn't let go.

"Prefer Stephen?" he grated.

"I don't believe you--you couldn't look at me the way you do' if you were the type to prefer Stephen..."

What did he mean by that, she wondered, shaken? How did she look at him?

She wished she knew, so that she could make sure she never did it again.

103 She pretended to laugh and said scornfully, "You flatter

yourself!

Try to get this through your head, Mr. Lefevre. I'm simply not interested in you at all! " His lip curled back in an animal snarl, and she couldn't help thinking of the dogs prowling the grounds outside. She s.h.i.+vered; Ellis was as unpredictable and as potentially deadly as one of the Alsatians. It would be folly to forget that.

Holding his stare she said carefully, ih a cool voice, "For the last time, Mr. Lefevre--I don't want you, and if you don't get out of my room immediately, I shall She got no further. His head descended, his mouth clamped down over hers, and her words were stifled by the force of that angry kiss. She fought him, writhing and pulling back, but he would not let her go and at last she was too tired to fight any more. Her head had clouded, she was so weak that the room swam around her, making her so dizzy she had to shut her eyes. She went limp, half fainting in his grip, and Ellis's hands slipped from her arms and moved around her to draw her closer.

The violence drained out of his kiss; it softened into heated pa.s.sion, coaxing her lips to part and permit his invasion, and Claudia shuddered into a reluctant, shamed response.

A moment later, Ellis pushed her backwards on to the bed, and she was too absorbed in kissing him back to resist. He came down with her, lying full length on the bed, murmuring huskily without words as his mouth moved against hers.

He pulled the narrow silk straps of her nightdress from her shoulders, and his fingertips gently stroked along her bare skin.

Claudia's hands clenched in his thick, warm hair, a terrible excitement pulsing in her body. She couldn't think of anything while he was touching her like that; she felt as if she were trapped in a dream, a hot, sensual dream.

Ellis caressed her long, pale throat with one hand, while the other slid downwards, pus.h.i.+ng her nightdress down with it, to bare her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He cupped one, his palm beneath the full weight of her warm flesh, his fingers softly stroking upward, his thumb rubbing her hard, round nipple.

She gave a low, deep moan, trembling violently. She hadn't known that anything could give so much pleasure. The wildness of her own response took her by surprise and made her helpless to stop him or even to want to resist.

She would have to fight her own desire as well as his if she tried to stop him, because she wanted him fiercely. She put her arms around his body and touched him with pa.s.sion, twisting restlessly on the bed, making high, excited sounds in her throat.

He slid his mouth from her lips to her throat, then downwards, very slowly, an inch at a time, over the warm, smooth skin of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s until he closed his mouth around one of her nipples, startling a cry of wild desire from her.

She held his head there, groaning, as his hands moved even lower to her hips, her thighs. The heat inside her was burning her up, she forgot everything but her need for him.

That was when Ellis suddenly lifted his head, and knelt up, staring down at her flushed face and half-naked, visibly aroused body.

Claudia took a few seconds to realise that he had stopped making love to her.

She opened her eyes quite slowly and focused on him in trembling bewilderment.

He was smiling, but it was not a pleasant smile. His eyes were chilly and his mouth had cruelty in the lines of it.

"Did Stephen get the same response, I wonder?" he drawled, and the ice of his voice made her turn white, and she began to shake.

"I.

doubt it. Well, I wanted to prove a point, and I proved it, didn't I?.

If I wanted you, I could have you, for all your protests. " He skimmed a glance over her from head to foot, then shrugged.

"But I don't think I'll bother."

He got off the bed and ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it down, straightened his tie, flicked one of her long, red-gold hairs from his jacket shoulder.

"You can spend the rest of the night here, but tomorrow first thing I want you gone," he said coolly, walking away.

Claudia was too numb with shock to move or speak. She stared as the door closed quietly behind him, and she was alone again, her eyes stinging with tears. If it didn't hurt so much, she would almost have believed she had imagined the whole thing, that she had been having a bad dream, but it was no dream. She could see the light under the door. He must still be in the flat. Did he intend to stay all night?

He might change his mind later, come back. That would be unbearable. She slide out of bed and ran unsteadily to the door to bolt it, then leaned on it, trembling, the t~ars trickling down her white face.

How could he do that to her? She ran her hands angrily over her wet eyes, scrubbing out the tears. She would not cry for him. She hated him. She would never forgive him, never.

She heard a distant sound, and froze, listening--then identified it as someone running down the stairs. Was he leaving, after all? Then came the slam of a heavy wooden door, and she recognised that too--Ellis was leaving through the boathouse, not walking up through the gardens. She went slowly over to the window to look out, heard the sound of an engine starting up, and a moment later saw a motor boat slowly emerge below her and head up river.

There were lights in the cabin of the vessel; she had a brief glimpse of black hair, oilskins, and then the boat was out of sight around the bend, and silence descended once more.

Claudia carefully unbolted her door and went out to investigate.

There was no sign of anyone now. She went into the bathroom and washed her tearstained face, then went back to bed, but she didn't sleep. Her mind churned with pain and anger all night, and in the morning she went up to the house to breakfast, prepared to face Ellis some time during the' day, and defy him.

She had dressed with great deliberation for the occasion, in a black jersey wool dress, her red-gold hair swept up into a French pleat.

He didn't know that she was working for his father, so no doubt he would return to the boathouse flat, and when he saw all her possessions still around the place, he would realise she had not left, as ordered, but would he then come up to the house? When he left for j.a.pan, he had said he would be away for a month, but he was back only two weeks later. Had he come because Stephen rang him and said their father wanted to see him? Or was it sheer coincidence that had brought him back early?

Quentin raised his head as she entered the room, and gave her his usual gruff, "Morning, Claudia."

"Good morning," she said, sitting down opposite him and grateful for once that he could not see her 10V.

face. Her voice sounded normal enough, but she knew she was pale and had shadows under her eyes.

Celeste came in with fresh coffee and stared with a frown as she poured Claudia a cup.

"You are not well?."Quentin's head turned."What is that? Something wrong with the girl?""No," Claudia said."I'm fine.""If you say so!" Celeste sniffed with disbelief."I didn't sleep very well, that's all," Claudia insisted. "A sleepless night usually means a man!" Celeste observed to n.o.body in particular,brus.h.i.+ng invisible crumbs off the table."Well, this time it doesn't!" Claudia said fiercely."One of you tell me what is going on?" Quentin demanded of the air.

"It's nothing!" Claudia said."She's sickening for something, if you ask me, but apparently I amwrong, so excuse me..." Celest~ went out, banging the door, andQuentin laughed, listening to her.

"She is offended."

"I'm sorry," Claudia said huskily, because a row with Celeste was the

last straw, she couldn't cope with much more. She knew that any minuteshe would burst into tears.Quentin shrugged."She offends easily! Pas de prob!gme!" He returned to his croissant, dipping it into his hot chocolate and nibbling it with childish relish.

"Mmm... but she makes good croissants!" Claudia took a roll and spread it with thick black cherry jam, which Celeste made herself each year. She wasn't hungry, though, so she sipped her strong

coffee first, one eye on the window which looked over the gardens, down to the boathouse, watching on tenterhooks for the first glimpse of Ellis.

"You know, if you would rather have an English breakfast, a bacon and egg, Celeste will cook it for you!" Quentin said abruptly, although when she first arrived he had made it clear that a Continental breakfast was all that was served in this house, and that she need not ask for anything else.

She looked at him in surprise, touched, because she knew it was a great concession and meant that he was getting to like her.

"Thank you.; but Continental breakfast is what I'm used to!"

"Of course," he grunted.

"I had forgotten--you have a French brother-in-law. A chef?. Hmm ... you are very lucky! Celeste's husband was a chef, did she tell you? She is a good cook, yes? But I think she would agree that her husband was better."

"He must have been marvelous, then," Claudia said, and Quentin smiled, as if she had paid him a compliment by praising Celeste.

"You like her cooking?"

"Very much. I'm sure Pierre, my brother-in-law, would be impressed byit, and you have to be good to impress Pierre. He thinks he is the best chef in the world ."

"All French chefs do!" Quentin drily commented. Claudia was no longer listening. Tense and pale, she was staring out of the window. Ellis was striding up from the boathouse. He had changed into casual wear, English country clothes; a wax jacket, over a yellow polo-neck sweater, dark cord trousers. They suited him, he looked relaxed in them, from a distance, but when he got closer she saw that his brows were drawn angrily, his body tense.

He had discovered that she had not moved out of the boathouse, and he was on his way here. to do what?

He was unaware that she worked for his father, so he would not expect to find her here, in this house. He had threatened to tell Quentin that Stephen was keeping a mistress in the boathouse--was that why he was here? Or was he merely here to see his father?

He had almost reached the house, she saw his face clearly, a brooding look on it, and began to get b.u.t.terflies in her stomach. She quickly looked down at her coffee, lifted the cup to her lips with a hand that shook. There was an air of violence about him that made her very nervous. Surely, though, surely, he wouldn't risk having a quarrel with her in front of his father?

She hated to imagine how Quentin would look if Ellis accused her of being Stephefts mistress.

With anything like that, even if you proved yourself innocent, some mud was likely to sticl~; it might linger on in Quentin's mind--a question mark against her name.

A moment later, Quentin stiffened suddenly, his head lifted, listening.

"Who is Celeste talking to?"

Claudia couldn't hear anything, although she strained to pick up voices.

Quentin's ears were much sharper than hers; he seemed able to hear like a bat, on a frequency way above that of most human beings.

His fingers tightened around his cup at that instant, and some coffee spilled on the polished surface of the table. He had turned pale.

The door opened, and Ellis came in briskly. His father tuned towards the door, putting down his coffee-cup so suddenly that it rattled in the saucer.

He waited, listening intently, then said with his usual impatience, "Well! Who is it?"

110 Ellis didn't answer for a moment. He watched his father, his own face pale, too, and set in rigid lines, then his eyes flicked sideways and saw Claudia. He tensed, face tightening, but he did not look surprised. Had Celeste told him she was here? He looked far from pleased, however, but he needn't think that that bothered her. She did not either want, or need, his approval. She lifted her head in a defiant gesture and stared back, her green eyes bright with hostility.

Quentin had begun to frown, his forehead sharply corrugated.

"Claudia, who is it? What's go' rag on? Tell me!"

"It's me, Papa," Ellis said quietly, detaching his eyes from Claudia.

"Ah... Ellis... I thought I recognised that voice talking to Celeste,"

Quentin breathed, then he frowned," and fell silent.

"Well, what are you doing here?" he muttered.

"I thought I told you never to set foot in this house again?"

"Do you want me to go?" Ellis bit out, his features angular and drawn, and Claudia could have hit him. Couldn't he see that his father's pride had made him say that? Quentin was afraid of admitting to any weakness; he would die rather than let Ellis know he had missed him. He wanted Ellis to humble himself, make all the overtures, so that he could make the magnificent gesture of forgiving him for whatever offence Ellis was supposed to have committed in the first place. It might be hard to swallow that att.i.tude, and Ellis might have every right to resent it, but Quentin was an old man, and his father. Surely, Ellis could sacrifice his own pride this one time, and let Quentin win this battle?

"That's up to you!" Quentin said querulously, his blind stare turned away, then he burst out, "I haven't 111 set eyes on you for months, and, when you do show up here, you are offhand and hostile. Who do you think you are? What arrogance! I'm your father, d.a.m.n you! Where is your respect? When I was your age, my father would have beaten me if I had spoken to him the way you speak to me!

I suppose if I asked any questions about the way the business is going, I'd get my head' bitten off! I don't have any right to know anything, I'm just your father. I was the man who built that corporation up over the years. It was my creation... But I'm old now, I must get out of the way, let you take over and I must not ask questions or want to know what you are doing..."

He broke off, his lower lip quivering as if he might be going to cry, and Claudia ran round the table to him and knelt beside his chair, taking his hand and holding it tightly, while she shouted at Ellis, "Stop it! Can't you see what you're doing to him? You are the most selfish, self-obsessed man I've ever met. You have no decent impulses at all, do you? Whatever the wrongs and rights of the situation, he's your father, and he has been very ill. Tell him you're sorry, apologise..."

Ellis looked like a pillar of salt; not a muscle moved in his pale face, but there was icy hostility in his remote grey eyes as he stared at her. She had gone too far, been too brutally frank, he would never forgive her~ For a moment she thought he would turn on his heel and walk out without a sound, but then he said stiffly, "I apologise, Papa. I am very sorry if I have hurt you or upset you."

Quentin drew a shaky breath, his cold, trembling fingers tightening around Claudia's hand.

112 "I am sorry, too..." he began, then broke off, holding out his free hand towards Ellis.