Past All Forgetting (8 page)

'You're vile. Colin wouldn't do such a thing.'

'No? I wouldn't count on it. From my brief dealings with him, I get the strongest impression that he'd be willing to sell his own grandmother to get what he wanted. I don't think even you would be wise to try his chivalry too far.'

'You know nothing about Colin,' she said, her voice shaking.

He laughed. 'And does he know anything about you? I doubt it. In fact, I'm counting on it.'

Before she could guess what he was going to do, he had reached out for her with long arms, pulling her against him so that their bodies were locked together. For a moment she knew panic, then his mouth came down on hers, hard and demanding, and the world whirled into a chaos where his kiss was the only reality.

It was as if the wellsprings of her emotions, dammed up for seven years, had been suddenly released. Her mouth parted helplessly under the pressure of his, and her hands crept up involuntarily to lock themselves behind his dark head as his lips explored hers with an arrogant intimacy that promised nothing short of total possession.

And then, as suddenly and shockingly as it had begun, it was over. Her hands were wrenched free and he was thrusting her away from him with a force that nearly made her overbalance.

His hair was dishevelled, and he raked his fingers carelessly through it, as he stood watching her with a cynical assessment that acted like a deluge of cold water on her awakened senses. He seemed totally unmoved by what had just passed between them, she thought dazedly, as if his sole concern had simply been to arouse her desires without becoming in the least involved himself. But even as she rejected the idea violently, his own words confirmed it.

'I was right, you see, Janna.' His voice was cool, his face expressionless. 'You really haven't changed at all.'

She gave a little choking cry of protest, then turned and fled out of the room.

Just along the corridor before she reached the stairs she glimpsed the white porcelain gleam of a bathroom through a half-open door, and dived into it, slamming the door behind her and sliding the bolt across. But there were no sounds of pursuit from the corridor. He had let her go— for now at least.

It was only a small room, containing a huge old-fashioned bath with gleaming brass taps, and a wash-basin. A high-backed chair with a wooden seat had been placed under the frosted glass window, and Janna made her way to it unsteadily and sat down. She had caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the basin as she passed, and had winced as she had done so. What had happened to the cool, self-contained creature she had built up so successfully over the years? She bore no relation to the girl she had seen in the mirror, with her wild, enormous eyes, and mouth blurred and swollen with passion.

She folded her arms tightly across her breasts, fighting back the little moan that threatened to rise to her lips. Oh God, what had she done? Why hadn't she been able to foresee the inherent dangers in going to appeal to Rian? All she had achieved was to reveal to him the full extent of her vulnerability—something she had not even been aware of herself until then, and the awareness had shaken her to the core of her being.

One of her consolations over the past seven years had lain in telling herself that she could not be blamed for the errors of adolescence and that her all-devouring passion for Rian and its disastrous aftermath could only be included in 't this category. But now she had no such excuse to explain how one calculated insult of a kiss could set her body alight. She wasn't a child any longer, playing with fire. She was a woman and in imminent danger of being consumed by the blaze she herself had rekindled.

She gripped her hands together tightly, feeling the hardness of Colin's ring biting into her flesh. How could she have let herself behave like that when she was engaged— promised body and soul to another man? she asked herself despairingly. She had betrayed Colin as surely as if she had allowed Rian to lift her on to his bed and take possession of her body.

She shivered. Her weakness, her lack of self-control—of decency even, she lashed herself—had simply given Rian another weapon to use against her when it pleased him to do so.

Hadn't he given her full warning that he intended to destroy her relationship with Colin in one way or another? Her only refuge seemed to lie in confessing frankly to Colin what had happened, not simply today, but seven years ago before Rian could tell him first.

She stared dully at the brightly patterned vinyl floor-covering at her feet. She had to face the fact that Rian's warning might
not be
so far from the truth. She simply did not know how Colin would react She had never had to test the strength of his feeling for her, or his forgiveness, and disturbingly she was aware that the realisation gave her no feeling of confidence.

She had known almost from the start that Colin, although attracted by her, would not have started wooing her if she had not been what his father would term 'suitable'. In the world they moved in, such things mattered, and she was sure that Sir Robert had forgiven the fact that she did not come from a wealthy family solely on the grounds of her utter respectability. Her father was the Chief Planning Officer with the district council, and her mother was a leading light in the Women's Institute, and the local charity organisations. There had never been a breath of scandal associated with any of their names. Until now.

She leaned back against the unyielding support of the chair and closed her eyes, letting her mind drift back again to that distant summer, almost welcoming the pain that memory brought in its wake.

It was all there—newly alive, newly awakened by those brief moments in Rian's arms. Moments she had desperately spent a whole portion of her life reassuring herself would never be repeated.

It was gratitude that had caused Mrs Tempest to invite Janna to the party at Carrisbeck House. She knew that. It had all been part of a carefully worked out campaign. If Rian was avoiding her then she would get to him somehow through his aunt. That was why she had spent one long and incredibly boring afternoon manning the White Elephant stall for which Mrs Tempest was responsible at the annual summer fete. All her friends who were helping had volunteered to sell cakes or home-made produce—things that were quickly sold out, releasing them to enjoy themselves for the rest of the afternoon. There was never any chance of that with White Elephants. There was always a fair proportion of these left at the end of the afternoon, to be taken away and stored in someone's attic until the next time.

Mrs Tempest was quite aware of this, and she realised it was a sacrifice for Janna on this hot and perspiring afternoon. Thus, she was grateful. And thus, the invitation to the party the following week.

Janna was not in the least perturbed to realise that she would undoubtedly be the youngest person at the party, and her confidence hoped to overcome any lingering scruples her parents might have had. She was also buoyed up by the certain knowledge that Barbara Kenton had nor been invited. Rian might find her an amusing way of passing his leisure time, but he would, not inflict her on his uncle and aunt.

And then there was the trouser suit. The moment she had seen it in the boutique she had known she must have it, and she had secretly drawn money out of her savings account to pay for it. It was at the back of her wardrobe now, and the only problem was how she was going to get out of the house in it without being sent back upstairs by her mother to change into something more suitable.

Mrs Prentiss might be easy-going in some ways, but Janna knew what her reaction would be to clinging hipster pants in white crochet lace, and a long-sleeved jacket top which left the midriff bats and hardly covered the wearer's breasts. She had experimented with different ways of doing her hair, and had decided to sweep it all into a loose knot on top of her head, and secure it with a white artificial rose. She had bought new make-up too—silver eyeshadow and a pale lipstick which made her mouth shimmer like pearl.

When she was dressed on the night of the party, she caught her breath as she studied herself in the long mirror on the back of her wardrobe door. It was no child that looked back at her, but a young woman, provocative and sensuous, knowing what she wanted and how to go about getting it.

She got out of the house and into the waiting taxi without difficulty. Her mother was in the kitchen preparing refreshments for a committee meeting later that evening, and her father was at the rear of the house, spraying his roses.

She was numb with tension all the way to the house. He had been in London the previous week. What if he had decided to return there, and skip the party altogether? Or even worse, what if he had invited one of his sophisticated London girl-friends to be there with him? Janna squared her shoulders under the flimsy lace covering, and lifted her chin defiantly. Her mirror had told her that she didn't have to be afraid of competition from anyone that night. Sweet witch, he had called her mockingly. Well, tonight she would make it true. She would bewitch Rian so that he would never mock her again. He had admitted he was attracted to her. Tonight, he would find her irresistible.

She found, when she entered the drawing room, that she knew most of the people there, and that the trouser suit which had seemed the ultimate in daring at home was not nearly so extreme compared with the models being worn by some of the girls. She was glad not to be too conspicuous. She did not want any tales to be carried back to her mother.

She looked round, trying to be casual, searching for Rian among the laughing, chattering groups of people, but she could not see him, and for a moment she was bleakly afraid that all her worst forebodings had been realised. Then she heard someone call to him, and realised with a rush of relief that he was merely out on the terrace.

She stepped out through the french doors, smiling shyly in reply to the people who greeted her. Rian was in the centre of a boisterous group. As Janna hesitated, he turned away laughing to put his empty glass on the terrace parapet beside him, and saw her. For a moment his eyes narrowed almost disbelievingly. The palms of her hands were clammy with sweat. If he laughed at her now, she thought hysterically, if he made even one joke, then she would kill herself.

But there was not the faintest amusement in his dark face as he came swiftly to her side. His hand seemed to burn her flesh as he took her arm, drawing her aside, away from the other people to where a climbing rose spilled its perfume on to the grey flags.

'Janna?' His voice held a question, a faint bewilderment, and she knew a feeling of triumph.

'Rian.' She smiled up into his eyes, holding them with her own, and heard him draw a sharp breath. Then he smiled too, but without mockery.

'I don't know what you've done to yourself,' he said quietly, 'but I want you to know you're very lovely. like a bud that has suddenly come to bloom.'

She felt the colour steal up under her skin, and hated herself for her lack of poise.

Rian put up his hand and brushed her warm cheek gently with his fingers.

'And the blush makes it perfection,' he said. She thought for one heart-stopping minute that he was going to say something else, and then someone from the group he had left shouted to him, and he half-turned.

'I must go,' he said abruptly. 'But I'll claim a dance with you later, if I may.'

She held her delight severely in check, murmuring that she would look forward to it.

From that moment on, she was never alone for a minute. The dancing began in the big hall soon after that, and she was never without a partner. At any other time she would have relished her triumph, knowing full well that other girls, older than herself and more expensively dressed, were watching from the sidelines, yet her success, all seemed meaningless, because Rian was not among the endless succession of young men vying to dance with her.

She began to feel desperate again. The evening was half over and Rian had not come near her since that first moment. Where was he, and why hadn't he kept his promise to dance with her? No one else mattered. She'd had countless offers to take her home, to take her out to dinner, to take her driving, and she had kept them all laughingly at arms' length, because she was waiting for Rian.

Supper was served around ten o'clock, but Janna could hardly eat a thing. At any other time the chilled asparagus rolls, the
vol au vents
, the exquisitely garnished platters of meat would have enchanted her. She ate dutifully, and laughed and talked, but all the time her eyes were darting searching glances to every corner of the big dining room. Oh, where was he? Why didn't he come?

At last she could stand it no longer, and with a murmured excuse she left her group and went back into the hall. A few couples were sitting on the stairs, chatting quietly, but Rian was not among them. He was not in the drawing room either, and quietly she went across to the french doors and on to the terrace. For a moment she thought it was deserted, and then in the far corner she saw a tall, familiar figure silhouetted against the last remnants of daylight.

She went up to him and touched his arm. He turned sharply to face her, and she saw with a twinge of alarm that he was frowning heavily. When he saw who it was, his brow cleared slightly and he made an obvious effort to be welcoming.

'Why aren't you eating with the rest of them?' he asked. 'Don't tell me you're watching your figure already?'

'Do I need to?' Mischievously, she twirled round for his benefit. But he did not answer her smile. The brooding look had returned to his dark face.

'No,' he said briefly, 'you don't need to. Go back indoors, Janna. It's getting chilly out here, and they're starting the dancing again.'

'That's precisely why I'm here,' she said, trying to recapture the lighthearted mood of earlier in the evening. 'You said you'd dance with me, and you've been nowhere near me.'

'I didn't think my absence would be noticed when you had so many round you,' he said drily, and her heart leaped, as she thought, 'Perhaps he's jealous.'