CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

'ERIC, darling! What a wonderful surprise!'

Instantly, Camilla was sprinting across the gravelled forecourt towards the slim, fair figure in the pinstripe suit With a cry of surprise she threw her arms around his neck, feeling a warm, sharp surge of relief sweep through her. All at once, miraculously, order had been restored in a world grown chaotic.

Eric hugged her, affection and concern in his good-natured face. 'Camilla, darling, I was worried about you. I didn't know where the hell you were. I got this garbled message from my secretary. I hope you don't mind me just turning up?"

'Of course I don't! I'm delighted to see you.' Like a shipwreck survivor clinging to a life raft. Camilla held on tightly to his arm. 'We had to go to the Isle of Mhoire in search of the missing Ceo do dh'or She smiled as he frowned, uncomprehending. 'Don't worry, I’ll explain everything as soon as we get back to the hotel.' Impatiently, she started to tug at his sleeve. 'Come on, let's go back now. I'm dying to talk to you.'

But gently, Eric held her back. He slipped an arm around her waist and admonished her softly with a smile. 'Just a minute, darling. You're forgetting something,' he chided. 'I think it would only be polite if you were to introduce me to this gentleman first.'

He was nodding politely in the direction of Ross, who had remained standing by the side of the Land Rover, hips leaning lightly against the bonnet, strong arms folded across his chest.

Ross looked back at them with an unfathomable expression, part aloof, superior detachment part some indefinable, darker emotion that deep in her soul, made Camilla shiver. He straightened now and took a step towards Eric, one hand extended, and smiled politely.

'Ross McKeown,’ he supplied in a cool tone. 'I'm very pleased to meet you, Eric.' As the two men shook hands, briefly, Camilla continued to cling to Eric, eyes uneasily downcast not quite daring to look straight at Ross. Suddenly, she was all too aware of how vulnerable his presence made her. What if, out of malice, he were to make some revealing remark to Eric about what had happened yesterday? She held her breath as he continued, 'I hope you didn't mind me spiriting your fiancée off to the Western Isles for a couple of days?' Sardonic amusement snaked round his lips. He paused for a moment then went on, 'However, as you can see, I've brought her back to you all in one piece.'

The dark eyes slid across to Camilla, making her flush beneath the laserlike gaze. 'I’ll leave her to explain what we were up to. Quite an exciting little tale.'

As he turned away, Camilla breathed again. Nervously, she squeezed Eric's arm. 'Come on. Let's go,' she urged, and nodded in the direction of the little hire car, parked now, she was relieved to see, ready and waiting in a corner of the forecourt 'Let's go straight back to the hotel.'

They were half way to the car when, across the forecourt, Ross's voice came booming out 'Hang on just a minute! Haven't you forgotten something?'

Camilla whirled round, her heart beating faster. What little game was he playing now?

He smiled at her, infuriatingly. 'You've forgotten this.'

Camilla frowned. Her camera-bag It had completely slipped her mind. Reluctantly, she released Eric's arm and began to walk back across the gravel towards Ross as, without conceding one single step, he stood there, holding out the bag She stopped a couple of paces away. Thank you,' she said, still not looking at his face.

But then, as she reached out to take hold of the strap and swing it across her shoulder, suddenly he had moved towards her to provide an unwelcome helping hand. His hand brushed her arm and seemed to linger, making her flesh burn and her heart grow still. Involuntarily, her eyes shot up to meet his and she blanched inwardly at the ferocity of his gaze. Dark coals smouldered down at her, burning with an emotion she could not read Yet his tone was composed and cool as he told her, 'So that's Eric. Just as I imagined him.' The dark eyes bored into her face. 'He looks like an exceedingly nice sort of bloke—but for someone else, not for you.'

‘That's where you're wrong.' She glared at him. 'Eric is very much for me. So don't you try and interfere,' she warned. 'You’ll be sorry if you do!'

Ross laughed at the pale threat and shook his head 'Brave words,' he told her. 'But a little too late. I've already done all the interfering I need to do. You may not fully realise it yet, but every time Eric kisses you from now on you'll remember what it was like to be kissed by me. Every time he lays a hand on you, your body will secretly ache for my touch.'

Such vanity! ‘You think so, do you?'

'I know so.' His gaze brushed her face, then slid down burningly to caress her slim form. 'In spite of Eric's many certain attributes, marriage to a man like him will never fully satisfy the woman within you. Only one man in the world can do that, as you discovered for yourself yesterday afternoon.'

Camilla felt hot colour seep into her cheeks as his words transported her back to the little but'n'ben. 'But there's more to life than just sex!' she said tautly. It was no more than infernal arrogance on his part that he should, even for one single minute, expect her to give up everything for an occasional roll in the hay with him!

‘Just sex? Is that all it was?'

She glanced away, her mask in fear of slipping. No one but herself would ever know, but it had been overwhelmingly, terrifyingly more than just sex. Amid those wild, unforgettable moments of passion, he had possessed more than her body. He had possessed her soul.

Smothering the suddenly bereft sensation that welled up treacherously inside her now, Camilla carefully composed her features and fixed him with a cold, stony look. ‘Thank you for the bag. I'd better go now. Eric's waiting.'

'Yes, indeed.' His gaze was equally stony. 'You'd better not keep Eric waiting.'

For a moment their eyes held, like two mortal enemies. Then, stiffly, without a backward glance, Camilla turned and walked back across the forecourt to Eric.

The next couple of days were tense and uneasy, though Eric's presence undoubtedly helped. He had decided to stay on in Glen Crannach until Camilla had finished shooting the collection. Then we can fly back to London together,' he had insisted. 'I was worried about you, you know, up here all on your own.'

Camilla had smiled bitterly to herself, knowing now that it would have been better if she had never come. All her worst premonitions had come true—and, though she would try her best to forget what had happened, she knew she would never be the same again. She would never be able to forget that day on Mhoire. Nor its bitter aftermath.

After they had made love that day, she and Ross had lain quietly in bed, arms wrapped loosely round each other. And even then Camilla had known that something inside her had changed. A bright, glowing feeling, secret and warm, the like of which she had never before known, suddenly seemed to illuminate her whole being.

And she knew what it was, there could be no doubt, though the realisation had come as a shock. Against all reason, against all sense, she had fallen desperately in love with him.

She had not at that moment dared to think of all the complications that must issue from this folly. For the moment it had simply been enough just to be lying in his arms.

It was Ross who had broken through her reverie. Kissing her, he had turned on his side to look long and deeply into her eyes. 'You’ll stay, of course? You won't go back to London now?'

Her heart had jolted in her breast There was nothing in the world she wanted more. Yet caution had bade her ask with a smile, Tell me why I shouldn't go back.'

He had bent to plant a lingering kiss on her bare shoulder. 'Because I want you here with me. How can I make love to you if you're more than six hundred miles away?'

At his answer her heart had faltered a little. But she said nothing, just pressed her cheek against his.

'I want to make love to you, Camilla, day after day after day after day. And night after night after night after night' He sighed a little and pulled her closer. 'You make me crazy for you. I could never get enough of you. I want you in my arms and in my bed. I want you with me at Castle Crannach.' He pulled back a little and searched her face. 'Isn't that my love, what you want too?'

She wanted it more than she could ever dare tell him. Almost more than she dared admit to herself. But one essential question still had to be answered. What exactly, was he offering her?

She looked back into his eyes, her heart beating wildly. 'I want you, too.' She flushed a little. 'But Ross, I—'

'No buts.' He kissed her face, one hand moving softly to cup her breast. 'Do you remember what I told you?' he went on to ask.

‘Told me? When?' she wanted to know.

'On the ferry to Mhoire.' He held her eyes. 'Surely you can't have forgotten that?'

Of course she hadn't She shook her head He had told her of the one special love he was seeking and of how he would settle for nothing less. 'I remember,' she assured him a little stiffly—for, surely, he could not be referring to that? Though she'd have given her life for it to be otherwise, cupid's dart, she felt certain, had pierced only one heart.

Which meant he must be referring to that other subject—his affairs, or 'occasional diversions', as he'd called them, and his observation that she should follow in his footsteps.

The deduction chilled her. She could not meet his eyes, as he invited once more, 'So, will you stay, Camilla?'

She took a deep breath. 'Let me get this straight. You want me to move into Castle Crannach?'

As he nodded she held her breath and waited. Just one word of commitment. That was all she asked. But when he spoke at last it was only to tell her, 'I shall make love to you, my darling, morning, noon and night.'

'You must be out of your damned head!' Her tone was harsh as she pushed him away, harsh with the pain and disappointment that tore through her. What makes you think I'd want to come and stay with you? I don't want your lovemaking, Ross McKeown! I thought I'd already made it quite clear? I'm virtually engaged to Eric!'

Her legs had been trembling as she'd staggered from the bed her brain exploding like fireworks inside her head. To think she'd been on the brink of turning her back on the man who loved her and wanted to marry her!

For she had been poised to do just that In one rash, reckless moment she would have given up everything—and for a man who dared to offer her in exchange no more than a cheap and tawdry affair!

He had pushed his case no further then. With a look like thunder on his face, he had risen from the bed and towered over her, magnificent in his naked manliness. 'At last I understand,' he had ground contemptuously. 'A one-night stand was all you were after. Forgive me for being a little slow. I guess I'm just not used to your big-city ways.'

'I guess you're not!' she had blazed back furiously, hiding the wounds his words had inflicted. One thing was for certain, he would never know now what her true feelings for him were. These she would keep locked away inside her, and pray that they would die one day.

In the meantime, she had not set eyes on Ross since that last bitter exchange outside the castle, and she had spoken to him, briefly, only once. He had phoned her at the hotel to let her know that the disappearance of the jewels had been solved.

'As I suspected Maggie took them. It appears that like you, she believes in the curse. She got her son to take them over to Mhoire and hide them in the keep. He was the young man Davie told us about. Both of them have made a full confession.'

So it had been Maggie, the last person she had suspected In spite of herself, Camilla suddenly felt a dart of sympathy for the dour-faced woman. 'Are you going to prosecute?' she asked.

There was a short pause before he answered 'Not in the circumstances, no. Their motives, as they say, were at least honourable. Though they'll both be in very deep trouble indeed if they should ever attempt such a thing again.'

He paused once more. ‘That's it, then,' he told her. 'Unless, of course, you have anything to tell me?'

She could tell by the change in his tone of voice exactly to what he was referring. 'I have nothing to tell you,' she answered flatly. Did he really expect that she might have reconsidered his insulting offer to become his mistress? The notion was both hurtful and offensive.

'I see,' he had answered, and hung up the phone.

Over the next couple of days, on her trips to the collection room, as she gradually wound up her assignment the old Laird accompanied her with the key. Quite obviously Ross was avoiding her, which was probably the most chivalrous thing he could do. Yet all the same, she did not feel free of him. She could feel his presence, like a heavy dark shadow, seeming to monitor every breath she took

By day, when she was with Eric, she could occasionally block out the sensation, but at night as she lay alone in her bed, he seemed to take her over body and soul. And as she wept endless, bitter tears into her pillow, through her pain she felt a terrible guilt What had passed between herself and Ross must remain a secret forever from Eric, and she deeply regretted the deceit that entailed But she would make it up to Eric. Though he would never move her as she had been moved by this wild Highlander she would devote her life to making him happy.

That would be her life's mission.

And her penance.

'So, that's settled, then? We go to the old Laird's birthday party and leave for London the following day. I’ll phone the airport and book our flights as soon as we get back to the hotel.'

They were driving back from a trip to the coast, Eric at the wheel. With a pang, Camilla glanced across at him. Was their departure really so imminent? Though she knew she should be glad, in her heart she was not. With an effort she focused on what Eric had been saying. 'I really think we ought to go to the party,' she answered. 'I like the old Laird. I wouldn't want to be rude.'

'Of course.' Eric nodded and reached across to touch her hand. 'He seems a nice enough old gentleman. A bit eccentric, of course. But if that's what you want then. We shall go.'

Camilla smiled as she glanced across at him. In Eric's book anyone who failed to comply rigidly to City standards was considered a little bit eccentric. She squeezed his hand fondly before he snatched it away to negotiate a particularly tricky bend, swearing politely to himself as he did so. These 'damned medieval country roads, fit for nothing but a donkey cart', as he so scathingly described them over the past couple of days had stretched his temper.

‘The sooner we get back to Oxford Street and Piccadilly, the happier I’ll be,' he professed. ‘These wretched little dirt tracks are far too full of surprises for me.'

Never was spoken a truer word Right on cue, as they rounded the bend they found their path blocked solid by a flock of sheep!

Eric brought the car to a juddering halt and let out a decidedly colourful oath. And, somehow, in that instant, Camilla knew precisely what he was about to do next. Quick as a flash she reached across and laid her hand across the horn, just a fortunate fraction of a second before Eric's fist came down on it.

'Don't!' she admonished hastily. 'Don't bang the horn. You’ll only frighten them.'

‘Then how the devil am I supposed to persuade them to get out of our way?'

‘There’ll be someone with them.' She craned her neck. ‘There's bound to be. They won't be alone.' She glanced round at either side of the road, suddenly half expecting the figure of Ross McKeown to come bursting through the trees.

At the image a sudden sharp longing pierced through her and hot foolish tears sprang to her eyes. Impatiently, she blinked them away. If she was to forget him, she must try harder.

'Here I am! Just give me a minute and I’ll soon have these beasts out of your way!' A ruddy-cheeked man in dungarees and carrying a shepherd's crook had suddenly appeared from nowhere, a black and white collie dog at his heels. He grinned good-naturedly at the occupants of the car, then he whistled and the dog went into action.

The very instant the road was cleared, Eric slammed the engine into first and drove past much too fast 'Damned sheep shouldn't be allowed on the road. If you ask me, it's a damned disgrace.'

Instantly, Camilla sprang to the shepherd's defence. 'But this isn't Knightsbridge, you know. Here different rules apply. In this part of the world, animals of the four-legged variety have as much right to use the highways as two-legged animals and their cars—'

She stopped abruptly, realising what she was saying—almost exactly word for word what Ross had told her that first time they'd met A fearsome flood of anguish gushed inside her. She swallowed on the sudden hard lump in her throat. Was it really possible that even that their very first conversation—their very first quarrel, more correctly!—was stamped so indelibly on her memory? Would she never be free of the man?

On an impulse, she leaned closer to Eric and lovingly put her hand on his knee. She reached up and kissed him on the temple.

'Don't worry,' she told him, squeezing his knee. 'Only two more days to go—and then we'll be back in London, with no more silly sheep to bother us.'

And no more Ross McKeown to haunt me, she added fervently to herself.

But though she knew in her head that was as she wanted it—Ross finally, irrevocably, a relic of the past—she had to hold very tightly to Eric's leg to block out the sudden hollow feeling that crept like a chill wind, into her heart.

It promised to be a difficult evening. Camilla glanced nervously at her reflection in the mirror. She was not looking forward to it at all.

For the Laird's seventy-eighth birthday party she had picked out the only dressy outfit that she had brought along with her—a dark blue Nicole Farhi dress whose clever cut was both simple and elegant—and had stylishly caught back her glossy blonde hair in a pair of pretty gilt combs. In her ears she wore a pair of gold drop earrings and a matching circle of gold around her neck.

'You look terrific,' Eric told her when she joined him downstairs in the lobby. He kissed her cheek and took her arm. 'Come on. Let's go. I’ll drive tonight.'

They arrived at Castle Crannach, as requested, a little after eight o'clock Maggie looking not the least bit repentant and just as taciturn as ever, showed them through to the drawing-room where the Laird and his small group of guests were assembled.

Camilla stepped into the elegant room, one arm clutched tightly around Eric's, a plastic party smile pinned to her face. And the very first person her eyes fell upon was the distinguished dark figure by the tall casement windows who had turned momentarily to observe her entrance. And in spite of her resolve to treat him with indifference, her jaw dropped and her heart lurched wildly inside her breast Never in her life before had she seen a man look quite so splendid.

She was used to seeing Eric in a suit. He very rarely wore anything else. But this was the very first time she had seen Ross dressed in anything other than jeans. The transformation took her breath away.

The plain dark navy suit he wore, with its razor-sharp tailoring and made-to-measure fit seemed superficially to tame the raw, dark animal power of him. The sometimes wild dark hair was swept back cleanly from his face, and his handsome tanned features seemed chiselled more finely above the gleaming whiteness of his shirt Yet the innate authority he exuded was quite undiminished by his civilised attire. As always, he dominated the room quite effortlessly.

With a fierce and sorrowful squeeze of the heart Camilla dropped her eyes away. Here was a side to him she had never before seen, yet as natural and true as all the others had been. For, quite clearly, he was a man who could mix with beggars and kings, and command deference and respect from any of them.

Detaching himself from the group by the window, Ross came towards them on unhurried strides. 'Welcome,' he told them, his tone polite, but notably lacking in any degree of warmth. The iron-grey eyes rested for a moment on her face. 'All set for the journey back south tomorrow? I imagine you can't wait to get on that plane.'

It was true, yet desperately untrue, and as Camilla endeavoured to look steadily back at him she wondered if her torn emotions showed. ‘There's nothing to keep me here any more,' she informed him in an even tone. 'My job is done. It's time to move on.'

'Quite so.' He smiled a cutting smile. 'We all of us have to get on with our lives.' For a moment the dark eyes bored right through her. Then, with an elegantly dismissive gesture, he deliberately turned his attention to Eric. 'Come and pay your respects to my grandfather. He's the reason we're all here, after all.'

At least Angus McKeown seemed pleased to see them. Looking distinguished and jaunty in kilt and hose, he beamed delightedly at Camilla as she and Eric approached his little group. 'I'm so glad you could make it, lass. Let me introduce you to some of my friends.'

In other circumstances the evening would have been enjoyable. The Laird's guests, mostly friends and neighbours from round about, were a boisterous, good-humoured lot and the conversation was entertaining and lively, with only one faintly jarring note, just as coffee was being served.

A red-haired man in Highland rig suddenly leaned across the table to Ross. 'So, how about the big race tomorrow? Are you all set?’ he wanted to know.

As Ross smiled modestly. Camilla's heart lurched. Big race, the man had said. Surely that could only mean one thing?

Another of the guests instantly confirmed her fears. 'Oh, don't worry,' he was saying brightly. 'By this time tomorrow, Ross, without a doubt, is going to be the new five hundred cc champion.'

As a murmur of agreement went round the table, Ross sat back and smiled unaffectedly. 'If I am, I’ll treat you all to a drink in the Stag tomorrow night,' he promised. Then he glanced across, deliberately, at Camilla. 'What a pity you won't be here to join in the celebrations, if there are any.'

She returned his glance, suppressing all emotion. 'Yes, what a pity,' she agreed 'I’ll try to think of you when I'm down in London.'

On the excuse that they had an early plane to catch, Camilla and Eric left soon after that She kept the goodbyes deliberately brief, though she warmly squeezed the old Laird's hand as she kissed him farewell. In the brief course of their acquaintance she had grown genuinely fond of the old man, and she felt foolish tears rise to her eyes as he confirmed that the feeling was mutual.

‘I’m going to miss you, you know,' he told her. 'If you're ever up in these parts again, be sure to drop in and see us.'

'I will,' she promised falsely, knowing in her heart that she would never dare to pass this way again—a decision which Ross's curt farewell handshake told her he more than fully endorsed.

They stepped out into the pale light of a crescent moon—and were half way across die forecourt to the car when, to her annoyance, Camilla realised that she had left her bag behind. Damn! She hesitated, half tempted just to go on without it, then make a phone call from the hotel. That way she would not risk encountering Ross. He would more than likely entrust one of his lackeys with the task of delivering it to the hotel.

But Eric was all for going back. 'Come on, I’ll come with you. It won't take a minute,' he urged.

Camilla shook her head. 'No, I’ll go alone. It’ll be less of a fuss that way.' Alone, she could perhaps slip back into the castle without drawing attention to herself, retrieve the bag from where she knew she'd left it, then slip out again unnoticed.

With a good-natured shrug, Eric agreed. 'OK. I’ll wait here.'

She walked quickly across the gravel, heels crunching, then up the stone steps. For some reason she felt nervous, her breathing quick and shallow in her breast. The bag, she knew, was in the dining-room, propped against the legs of her chair.

The guests had adjourned some time ago for more coffee and brandy, to the drawing-room next door. She hurried on tiptoe across the hall. It appeared the coast was clear.

But the bag was not where she had left it. She circled the table impatiently, searching, eyes pinned to the floor. Where could it have gone? Who could have taken it? Could she have been mistaken, after all?

'Is this what you're looking for, perhaps?'

She whirled round, startled, at the sound of a deep voice, to see Ross standing watching her from the open doorway. In one hand he held her bag. He raised it up and cocked one eyebrow. 'Maggie found it,' he informed her coolly. 'I was pretty sure it belonged to you.' The dark eyes regarded her face for a moment 'A neat trick.' He smiled at her. 'At last our chance to be alone.'

Camilla blinked, only half comprehending. The unexpected sight him of had fuddled her brain. Trick?' she repeated 'What are you talking about? I simply came back here to get my bag.'

'Such innocence.' He smiled at her, as he stepped through the doorway into the room. 'If I weren't better acquainted with the woman underneath I might actually believe in the childlike innocence shining from those wide blue eyes.' With a far from innocent look in his own eyes he closed the door behind him with a provocative click.

Every muscle in Camilla's body suddenly seemed to stiffen in defence. He had been waiting for her, and she had walked straight into his trap. 'Give me my bag,' she demanded curtly. 'You know very well I didn't plan anything. You may enjoy playing devious little games, but right now I'm afraid I'm not in the mood for them.'

'No?' With a harsh, wicked smile, he came towards her. 'So what are you in the mood for, Camilla?' He laid the bag on the table and stood purposefully over her. 'Don't be shy. What's on your mind?'

She could have snatched the bag and run, then escaped out into the corridor before he could stop her. But something held her— some light in his eyes, or possibly just the sudden frantic beating of her heart She stood mutely staring at him as he continued, 'I rather thought we might take this opportunity for a final little chat.'

'What sort of chat?' She regarded him suspiciously. 'You and I have already said to one another everything we could possibly have to say.'

'You think so?' With a light smile, he lowered himself to the table edge, the somehow relaxed and easy gesture minutely reducing the tension between them. His eyes were level with her own as he told her, ‘There are a lot of things I haven't said yet. Like how particularly stunning you're looking tonight'

Camilla felt an awkward smile flutter across her lips. Foolishly, the compliment had pleased her, and she felt half tempted to return it. He too was looking particularly stunning tonight after all. More stunning than a man had any right to look. But she stopped herself. He had no need of her kind words. 'Don't tell me you went to all the trouble of trapping me in here just to tell me that' she said scathingly instead.

'Not exactly.' He held her eyes, making her stomach curl up inside. 'I was just wondering if you'd done any more thinking about my invitation to stay here with me.'

If she had not known him better, just for a moment she might have thought she caught a note of entreaty in his voice. But that was mere whimsy < on her part, she decided swiftly, answering, as she did so, 'I could think about it from here to eternity and my answer would never be any different' Amorous diversions just for the hell of it might appeal to him, but they weren't for her. She felt herself stiffen with indignation. And he had a monstrous nerve proposing such a thing!

But the man was without shame. He continued, without blinking, 'You're making a big mistake, you know.'

She glared at him with glittering blue eyes. 'You're the one who's making a mistake!'

'You think so? He spoke the words as a challenge, his tall frame straightening as he rose from the table. 'Perhaps, Camilla, you have already forgotten ...?'

'Forgotten?' Instinctively, she took a step back.

"Yes, forgotten, Camilla.' With a movement he closed the gap between them 'Perhaps you need a small reminder.'

She wanted to flee. She wanted to stay. For she knew exactly what was going to happen next Like a helpless stray deer startled by headlights, she stood transfixed by the burning dark eyes, fearing what he was about to do, yet with her whole body suddenly longing for it

As his hand reached out she closed her eyes, her heart pounding as his fingers touched her hair. Then she shivered and let her body slacken against him as his free hand softly circled her waist and in one soft yet impatient movement, Ross drew her close to him Suddenly, she was pressed against him. She could feel his heat, his hardness, his strength, the delicious, overpowering urgency in him as her breasts were crushed against the wall of his chest.

Then the breath left her body and the universe stood still as, hungrily, his lips pressed down on hers.

Pain pierced through her, or was it pleasure? She could no longer tell. And for one brief, wild and heady moment she no longer cared Greedy for his touch, she clung to him, her arms circling his neck, caressing his hair, her senses on fire from his plundering lasses and the swift, excited race of his heart against hers.

'Camilla, Camilla.' The words were a groan as one hand slipped round to cover her breast, and even before his thumb found her nipple she felt it lengthen excitedly and grow hard Desire went lancing through her loins as he thrust his hips against her now, leaving her in no doubt at all about the fullness of his own arousal.

Deep in her throat she moaned as a fire of passion swept through her veins. Perhaps one last time would do no harm, she was telling herself through the fog in her brain. One last wild and wanton time, right here on the dining-room floor.

But it was at that moment that he broke the spell. He drew away from her just a fraction and looked burningly down into her eyes. 'Forget about Eric,' he demanded hoarsely. 'Don't go back to London. Stay here with me.'

It was enough to bring her back to her senses. Horrified she drew away. 'No! Never!' she cried 'Never! Don't ask me to!' Then with sudden strength and determination she tore herself roughly from his grasp. 'Eric's the man I'm going to marry! I've told you that right from the start!'

'And I've tried to tell you from the start that he's not the man for you!'

At the fierce look in his eyes, sudden panic overtook her. If she was foolish enough to stay one moment more, there was a danger he might turn her life upside-down. In a heartbeat, panic turned to terror. She knew only one thing. She must escape.

Blindly, before he could stop her, she grabbed her bag and raced for the door. And she dared not stop running until she had reached the safety of Eric, and the car.

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