CHAPTER EIGHT

The cold breeze whipped colour into Roxy's cheeks, and penetrated her clothes so that she shivered and wrapped her arms about herself protectively. Her icy hands felt numb, and she could no longer feel her toes in her shoes when her companion swung his rucksack off his shoulders and seated himself beside her on the rock.

'It provides one with a sense of freedom and a great deal of humility to be up here where the earth and the sky seem to meet, ' he remarked conversationally while he undid the rucksack, but she kept her face averted, and said nothing. 'Have you ever seen anything so beautiful? ' he asked.

She shook her head, and said through clenched teeth, 'No. '

'Coffee? ' Something touched her hand and she turned her head sharply to see the mug he held out towards her. When she made no move to accept it, he said impatiently, 'Go on, take it. '

She took the mug from him then, and wrapped her cold hands about it in order to warm them while she watched him take a second mug from his rucksack to fill it with coffee from a small flask. He had strong, well-shaped hands, she noticed, and the fingernails were short and clean, suggesting that his work, whatever it was, was not of a manual kind. He returned the flask to his rucksack before picking up the mug he had placed on the rock beside him and, as he did so, their eyes met.

Roxy coloured, but she did not look away as she asked with some urgency, 'Who are you? '

'James Allen, ' he smiled a little twistedly. 'And you're Roxana Cunningham. '

She drew a startled breath. 'Who told you that? '

'I asked at the reception desk, ' he said matter-of-factly, then he gestured abruptly towards the mug she clasped between her hands. 'Drink that coffee. It will warm you up a little before we start the long walk down to the hotel. '

Roxy obeyed him in silence, but her mind was running riot. James Allen. He did not look like a James Allen. He was too vitally masculine to be saddled with an ordinary name like that. There was in his voice and manner that indefinable thread of steel, an arrogance in the way he held his head, and a determination in the square set of his jaw. She was suddenly overcome by the strangest desire to touch him, but she pulled herself together at once, and placed her empty mug beside the rucksack at his feet.

Going down was not so easy. She was unused to such strenuous exertion, and her legs felt weak and shaky beneath her. She caught the toe of her shoe on a protruding rock in an unguarded moment, and slipped as she tried to regain her balance, but James Allen turned at that moment and caught her deftly before she could injure herself.

She clutched wildly at the muscled arms beneath the leather jacket, but it felt as though she had been wired up to an electrical unit when her body made contact with his. Her nerve-ends vibrated as if from a hidden energy source, and her pulse became erratic when, instead of releasing her, his arm tightened about her waist. With his free hand he removed her tinted glasses and stared down into her wide, frightened eyes.

'You have lovely eyes, Roxana Cunningham, ' he said, his voice low, vibrant and disturbing. 'They're as green as the valleys below us, with. elusive and mysterious depths that would encourage any man to probe deeper. '

'Let me go, ' she whispered hoarsely, trying to free herself, but his arm merely tightened about her so that his hard thighs pressed against her own.

'You're afraid of me. '

It was a statement, not a question and, as she fought to control the tremors that shook through her, she said stiffly, 'I don't know you. '

'You will eventually, ' he assured her with a confidence that alarmed her further, then he slipped her tinted glasses back on to her nose and released her.

'Come, ' he said abruptly, taking her arm firmly in his hand. 'We haven't much further to go. '

Roxy felt as though she had been caught up in a nightmare, and when she finally reached the safety of her suite in the hotel, she was mentally and physically exhausted. She soaked herself in a hot bath to ease the stiffness from her limbs, and tried not to think, but her mind continued to pivot around those moments she had stood in the circle of his arm. The most frightening thing about it had been that uncanny sense of belonging she had experienced, and it unnerved her even now to think of it. There had to be some practical and logical explanation for what she had felt, she decided when she eventually climbed out of the bath and dried herself vigorously with the towel. The exertion of walking up the mountain had been too much for her, she told herself at last, and in her weakened state she had imagined something that was not there.

She did not go down to lunch, however, and decided to play safe by having something sent up to her. She did not want to meet James Allen again; not so soon, at least, after their encounter on the mountain, so she remained in her suite that afternoon and tried to relax. She would feel differently when she met him again, but preferably it would be to her advantage to stay out of his way in future.

She steeled herself when she went down to dinner that evening, but that did not prevent her heart from leaping crazily in her breast when she saw him seated at the table close to hers. They acknowledged each other's presence with a brief nod, and she placed her order with the waiter who hovered politely in attendance. She might as well have been eating sawdust, she told herself eventually as she forced the food down her throat. James Allen was sitting two tables away from her drinking his coffee, and she was acutely conscious of every move he made, and every gesture of those strong, well-shaped hands. He observed her intently and quite openly and, although she tried to ignore the fact, her hands were trembling to the extent that she found it increasingly difficult to hold her knife and fork properly.

He rose to his feet eventually, but her relief was short-lived when he approached her table and pulled out the chair opposite her.

'May I join you? ' he asked, his eyes mocking her.

'I can't stop you, I suppose, ' she said sarcastically as she watched him seat himself.

'Why be so determined to be unfriendly? '

'I prefer to be on my own. '

'Ah! ' he said, his eyebrows rising in sardonic amusement. 'Like Greta Garbo, the lady wants to be left alone. '

Angry frustration surged through her and, dropping her knife and fork on to her plate, she pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. 'Excuse me. '

'You haven't finished your dinner, ' he remarked accusingly, getting to his feet with animal-like swiftness and following her from the dining-room.

'I'm not hungry, ' she flung at him across her shoulder as she pushed her way through the swing doors into the foyer, but when strong fingers latched on to her wrist she swung round to face him and cried out furiously, 'Why can't you leave me alone? '

His eyes were hooded as they slid over her slender form in the cinnamon-coloured jersey-cloth dress, then he smiled that mocking smile she was beginning to hate intensely. 'There's a moon outside, and you're dressed warm enough, so let's go for a walk. '

He literally dragged her from the building before she could utter a protest, and she practically had to run to keep up with his long-legged strides.

'You have a nerve, treating me like this! ' she accused breathlessly when they reached a secluded section of the grounds.

'The fresh air will cool your temper, ' he laughed briefly, shortening his strides to accommodate her, but his laughter had touched a sensitive chord in her brain, and it unleashed a fury that made her shake with the force of it.

'You're an overbearing, pompous ‑! '

The words became strangled in her throat as he swung her round into his arms, and her anger seemed to drain from her when she found herself staring up into his rugged, shadowy face. The scent of his spicy, masculine cologne was in her nostrils, stirring her senses until she felt again that peculiar sensation of belonging. She wanted to free herself, but her mind and her body had become oddly retarded as she stood there staring up at him dumbly and helplessly.

'You were saying, Roxana? ' he mocked her, but, when she remained silent, he lowered his head and sought her lips with his own.

The pressure of his mouth against hers was light but persistent, and, paralysed by a force far stronger than she had ever encountered, she offered no resistance. Encouraged by her stillness in his arms, his kisses became sensually arousing, and she found herself responding with a wild abandon of which she felt secretly ashamed, but which she could do nothing about at that moment as she clung to him weakly.

His mouth left hers at last to slide across her throat, and to probe the sensitive areas with an expertise that made her tremble against him as her emotions soared to incredible heights, but she came to her senses with humiliating swiftness when his hands slid upwards from her hips to her breasts.

She could not allow a total stranger such familiarities and, thrusting him from her, she cried chokingly, 'This is madness! I hardly know you! '

'But it feels as though we have known each other for a very long time. '

He spoke those words as if he had access to every thought that flashed through her mind, and she backed away from him in fear. 'Who are you? '

'You've asked me that before, and I've told you. ' He bowed slightly in her direction. 'James Allen is the name, and I'm at your service. '

She stared up into his face, but the darkness unfortunately hid his expression from her. She had to get away, she told herself; away from this man who had the power to change her into someone she could hardly recognise as herself, and away from the intimacy of this shadowy niche in the gardens.

'I'd like to go up to my room, ' she said stiffly, turning from him as she spoke.

'I'll take you up. '

'No! ' she exclaimed sharply as he fell into step beside her. 'I'm perfectly capable of finding my own way. '

'I'll go no further than the door to your suite, ' he assured her with an undertone of mockery in his deep voice. 'You have my word on that. '

Roxy lapsed into an exasperated silence, and made no further effort to stop him accompanying her. She did not speak, and neither did he as they entered the hotel, crossed the foyer, and climbed up the curved staircase, but her heart was beating hard and fast against her ribs when they walked along the thickly carpeted passage towards her suite. At her door he paused, held out a hand for her key, and inserted it in the lock. The door swung open, and he switched on the light, then he dropped the key into her outstretched palm and stepped back.

'Goodnight, Miss Cunningham, ' he said tersely, then he turned his back on her and continued down the passage towards his own suite.

Roxy stared at that broad, formidable back with a perplexed expression in her eyes. For one mad instant she had a crazy desire to run after him, then she backed into her suite and closed the door quickly to lean against it heavily.

'Am I going mad? ' she wondered frantically. What must he think of her? She hardly knew him, and yet she had allowed him to kiss her with a passionate intimacy to which she had responded shockingly.

Bewildering as it may have seemed to her, she knew that what had happened to her out there in the hotel gardens was something she had known before. But when—and more specifically—with whom? Marcus Fleming? The name her father had mentioned came to mind, but something within her recoiled from the very idea. No, it could not have been him.

Other arms had held her before, and other lips had kissed her in that passionate way, but surely, if it had been this Marcus Fleming her father had mentioned, his name would have stirred some chord in her sluggish memory?

She went to bed, but it was a long time before she slept, and then her dreams were filled with the most disturbing incidents. She was lying on soft grass, and she was blind once more. James Allen was bending over her, and she was exploring his lean, rugged features with her fingertips while he murmured something to her in that low, vibrating voice. He kissed her eventually with a passion to which she responded without reserve, then something frightening happened, and he was torn from her arms as if by a great gust of wind. She cried out in despair, and awoke with a thudding heart to find that it was morning. Her body was wet with perspiration, and she was shaking uncontrollably as she glanced about her guardedly, almost as if she expected to find James Allen there in the room with her, then she threw back the bedclothes with an angry exclamation on her lips, and went through to the bathroom to run her bath water.

When she went down to breakfast an hour later, she felt nervous at the prospect of meeting the man who had featured so prominently in her dreams, but he was not at his usual table and, struggling with a mixture of relief and disappointment, she ate her breakfast quickly before returning to her suite to collect her fleece-lined jacket.

The air was cool despite the fact that the sun was shining, and she went for a long walk down into the valley until she found a quiet spot beside a little stream where she could rest for a while and think things over while she took in the panoramic beauty of her surroundings. She was surrounded by tall cycad, sagewood and cypress trees which were casting long shadows across the dew-bedecked earth sparkling in the early morning sun.

Roxy sat down on a dry, grassy patch, leaning with her back against the gnarled stem of an old tree as she watched the rippling stream run swiftly from its source somewhere in the mountains down into the valley below. The water was crystal clear, and refreshing to drink, she discovered when she leaned forward to scoop a handful to her mouth, then she sat back once more and closed her eyes for a moment behind the tinted lenses of her glasses. The air was fresh and sweet, and she drew it deeply into her lungs. Nature had been left undisturbed in this mountainous area, and the indigenous plants grew wild and free and protected from the destruction of human hands.

'Peaceful, isn't it? ' a voice pierced the stillness, and she scrambled to her feet nervously to find James Allen standing a little distance from her, his feet planted firmly apart, and his thumbs hooked into the broad leather belt that hugged his denims to his lean hips.

'Until this moment, yes, ' she agreed with angry sarcasm as her agitated glance swept higher to take in the long-sleeved denim shirt that seemed to fit too tightly across his broad chest, but her eyes lingered on the strong, sun-browned neck, and the proud head tilted at an arrogant, faintly mocking angle.

'You find my presence disturbing, then? ' he asked with a hint Of laughter in his voice as he lessened the distance between them.

'Why won't you leave me alone? ' she cried, resorting to anger as a result of her inability to find an explanation for her physical reaction to this man.

'Do I have such an unpresentable appearance that you can't stand me near you? ' he demanded, standing so close to her now that she had to raise her head to look a long way up at him, and she saw his mouth twist into a suggestion of a smile. 'There's no third eye in the middle of my forehead, is there? '

'No, ' she laughed before she was able to prevent herself. 'And you don't have a broken nose, or buck teeth either, but ‑ '

She drew a sharp breath and felt the colour drain from her face. She had been on achingly familiar ground, but now, as she grasped at the memory, it faded with infuriating swiftness, and was gone.

'Sit down, ' said James, taking her by the shoulders and forcing her down on to the soft ground so that she leaned with her back against the tree once more. His eyes searched her face intently, then he said: 'You've gone quite pale. '

'I—I'm sorry, ' she said weakly, pressing her fingers against her throbbing temples in an effort to remember. 'It was something you said, and the way I replied. It all sounded so familiar—as if I'd heard it somewhere before, but ‑ '

She bit her lip in concentration, but nothing emerged from those hidden shadows in her mind, and her hands fell limply into her lap as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the tree trunk.

'It happens sometimes, ' James Allen was saying. 'Things, certain incidents, become vague in one's mind. '

She opened her eyes suddenly to stare at him. He must think her mad, she thought a little hysterically as her glance rested on that strong yet sensuous mouth, and the square, determined jaw. She felt an intense desire to touch him; it rose from deep within her until her fingertips tingled with a strange longing that frightened her.

'I think I'd better get back to the hotel, ' she said unsteadily, but a heavy hand came down on to her shoulder, forcing her to remain where she was.

'Don't go yet, ' he instructed. 'Rest a while longer. '

She shrank from the touch of his hand, and he removed it at once, but he remained seated close to her, propping himself up with one hand while the other arm rested on his raised knee. His nearness stirred her senses in an oddly familiar way, and she stared at him thoughtfully, her eyes searching, while her mind probed relentlessly and without success into that blank period of her life.

'Why do I have the feeling that I know you? ' she heard herself question him at last.

'Perhaps we knew each other in another lifetime. '

'That's silly, ' she laughed jerkily. 'I don't believe in reincarnation. '

He shrugged and stared out across the stream, giving her the opportunity to study his strong profile. He was not a man to be trifled with, she knew this somehow, and she knew, too, that he was a man who nearly always succeeded in getting what he wanted. He turned his head, then, and their eyes met, sending a shiver of shock along her receptive nerves. The blueness of his eyes intensified, and she stared, fascinated, when the pupils enlarged as if with some inner emotion.

'What do you see when you look at me like that, Roxana Cunningham? ' he enquired softly, and the sheer force of his masculinity held her spellbound for interminable seconds before she could free herself.

'I can see that it's time I returned to the hotel, ' she said, the huskiness in her voice more pronounced as a result of her inner turmoil.

'You don't have to fear me. ' His heavy hand on her shoulder once again prevented her from rising. 'I don't want to hurt you. '

I don't want to hurt you. Those words echoed through her mind like a ghost from the past, and she shivered involuntarily.

'Someone else said that to me once, and ‑ '

'You were hurt? ' he questioned when she paused abruptly.

'I think so. I—I can't remember. '

He smiled faintly. 'There are many things you don't remember. '

'Why do you say that? ' she asked sharply, instantly on the defensive.

'I said something a few minutes ago that made you think of something else you couldn't remember, ' he explained in an unperturbed manner.

'I've suffered a partial lapse of memory, ' she told him, not really knowing why she should confide in him. 'There's a part of my life I can't remember at all, and I'm left with about ten blank weeks I'm unable to fill. '

'Is it important that you should remember? '

'I have a feeling that it is. ' She frowned and fingered the pleat in her slacks. 'My father told me that there'd been someone—someone I ‑ '

'Someone you cared about? ' James filled in for her when she paused abruptly.

'Yes, ' she admitted, her cheeks growing warm under his scrutiny.

'And you can't remember him at all? '

She shook her head. 'No, I'm afraid I can't. '

'Do you really want to remember? '

'I—I don't know. ' She felt the nerves tighten at the pit of her stomach, and she replied with inherent honesty, 'If I have to, analyse myself, I think I'll find I'm a little afraid to remember. '

'So you've decided to keep that part of your life locked away in your mind because you're afraid to face whatever it is that happened during that time you can't remember. '

His scornful accusation stung her, and she jumped to her feet in a fury. 'Don't say it like that! I didn't deliberately shut that period out of my mind, so what right have you to sit there and pass judgment on me! '

He got to his feet and towered over her suddenly, his hands gripping her shoulders and shaking her slightly. 'I wasn't judging you, you little spitfire. '

'I don't know why I actually bothered talking to you, ' she spat out the words. 'You're a complete stranger to me, and I would prefer to keep it that way. '

'Well, I don't! ' he assured her harshly and, before she could suspect his intentions, she was draped across one hard arm and kissed with a thoroughness that left her trembling and shaken. 'That's something you're not going to forget in a hurry. '

He turned on the heel of his suede boots and walked away, leaving her standing there with her back pressed hard against the steam of the cycad, and her breath coming unevenly over parted, bruised lips. Her troubled eyes followed his tall, broad-shouldered figure until he was out of sight, then she struggled with the curious desire to weep. Somewhere within her there was a deep sorrow; a regret, as if something had been left undone, and it filled her with a yearning that seemed to tear away at her insides. James Allen was to blame for arousing these feelings in her, and she was beginning to fear that, mentally and physically, she would become enslaved by a man she had met for the first time barely a few days ago. If it had happened to someone else she would have laughed scornfully at the whole idea of such an instant attraction, but it was happening to her, and it was dangerously real.

It frightened her, this attraction for a man she hardly knew, but it was there every time they met; the awareness of his enigmatic presence, the magnetism that drew her to him relentlessly like a moth to a flame, and his masculine vitality which made her so disturbingly aware of her femininity. His piercing blue eyes had the power to stir her senses, while his touch ignited a fire in her veins and, humiliating though it might seem to her at that moment, deep down she wanted his touch with an aching need she could not assuage. That was the reason she feared him so much. She was afraid of what he could do to her, but, moreover, she was afraid of what he might make her do.

'Oh, God! ' she groaned, burying her white face in her trembling hands. 'What's happening to me! '

There was no answer forthcoming; no logical explanation she could offer herself, and the effort of trying to understand merely succeeded in exhausting her.

She once again decided to have lunch sent up to her suite that day, and afterwards she slept for almost two hours before awaking relaxed and free of a great deal of the tension which had plagued her. She showered and changed into a satin, apricot-coloured evening dress with wide sleeves. It was a dress she had brought with the intention of wearing on special occasions, but nothing special was about to happen, she decided, so she might as well indulge in a little fantasy of her own. She took care over her make-up, and brushed her short hair until it curled softly about her ears. It would be a long time before her hair reached the length it had been before her operation, she thought with a grimace, but she supposed she should not complain.

With time to spare before going down to dinner, she stepped out on to the balcony for a breath of fresh air. The sun had set swiftly to shroud the earth in darkness, and she felt the peace of her surroundings settle about her like a soft, protective cloak as she leaned against the railing and stared up at the starlit sky.

It was a miracle that she could see; that she could watch the stars flickering brightly in the velvety sky as she had done so often as a child, and gratitude flooded her being and brought tears to her eyes.

She had no idea how long she had stood there, enmeshed in her own thoughts, but her peace was finally disturbed when she sensed that she was no longer alone, and she turned to see James Allen observing her from the darkened doorway of his suite. Her pulse fluttered, stilled, and fluttered again as they faced each other across the silent balcony. She wanted to turn away, but she couldn't, and for a time nothing moved except the soft mountain breeze stirring the folds of her dress about her legs.

'Come here, Roxy. '

It was a command, quietly spoken, but decisive, and her limbs obeyed with a will of their own, taking her into his arms as if she belonged there. A glimmer of a smile hovered on his shadowed features, then his mouth brushed hers tantalisingly until the final shred of her restraint crumbled, and her lips parted hungrily for his kiss.

Lost in the exciting intimacy of this moment, she was only vaguely conscious of being drawn into his suite, but she did not care. She heard the door close with a soft 'click', then his hands were moulding her softness against the hard length of his body, and a wild response clamoured through her that left her clinging to him weakly. She seemed to come alive beneath those clever hands, and she moaned softly as his mouth brushed across her eyes, her cheek, and her throat before seeking her willing lips once more. It all seemed so achingly familiar, and all at once a memory was struggling to the forefront of her brain.

'Wait... please! ' she begged hoarsely, holding him off with her palms pressed flat against his chest, and the warmth of his skin through the fine linen of his shirt sent an odd sensation rippling through her as she gasped, 'There's—there's something I must remember. I must?

'Don't force it, Roxana, ' he said, releasing her and flicking a switch against the wall behind him so that she stood blinking with momentary blindness in the sharp light that flooded the room so unexpectedly.

'Stop calling me Roxana! ' she cried agitatedly, trying to grasp the vague memory which was slipping so swiftly away from her. 'You called me Roxy a few minutes ago. '

A smile touched his mouth. 'Why don't you call me James? '

'James, ' she repeated thoughtfully, tilting her head up at him and relinquishing the effort to remember. 'It doesn't suit you somehow. '

'My name doesn't matter, ' he gestured abruptly with an expressive hand. 'What does matter is that I would like to help you. '

'Help me? ' She stared at him in incredulous disbelief, taking in the height and breadth of him in the dark, impeccably tailored suit. 'Did you say you want to help me? '

'I want to help you remember that part of your life which you've locked away somewhere in the recesses of your mind. '

There was absolute silence while she considered his amazing statement, then she asked suspiciously, 'And how do you propose to do that? '

'Does it matter which methods I use? ' His compelling eyes held hers captive while his fingers brushed against her cheek in a casual caress. 'Trust me. '

Trust him? Could she trust him? Could she trust herself? Shame sent a hot wave of colour surging into her cheeks when she thought of how willingly she had gone into his arms a few minutes ago to return his kisses with a passion which had been almost frightening in its intensity.

She lowered her eyes and turned away from his disturbing touch. 'I don't really know you. '

'Then allow yourself to get to know me, ' he insisted, coming up behind her so that she could feel his breath stirring her hair. 'That shouldn't be too difficult, judging by the way you react to my kisses. '

Her colour deepened with embarrassment, and her fingers tightened about her sequinned purse. 'Why should you want to help me? '

'I like the colour of your eyes. '

'Don't be silly, ' she laughed nervously, moving away from him towards the door leading out on to the balcony.

She had to get away, she thought frantically. She had to get away from this man who succeeded in confusing her more each time they met.

He made no effort to prevent her from leaving, but when her fingers touched the cold metal of the door handle he said: 'I've ordered dinner for two to be served here in my suite. '

Her hand trembled and tightened on the handle as she turned to face him, her movements slow and her eyes wary. 'Is this an invitation? '

He shook his head slightly and smiled that mocking smile she was beginning to associate with him. 'It's an order. '

'And if I refuse? '

'Then a perfectly good meal will go to waste. ' Their glances met sparringly during the ensuing silence while she tried to decide what to do, then he came towards her and placed his hands lightly on her rigid shoulders. 'Relax, ' he said, drawing her away from the door and further into the room which was furnished similarly to her own small lounge in the suite next to his. 'I'm really quite harmless, ' he added reassuringly.

As harmless as a hunting leopard on the prowl, yes, she thought cynically as she lowered her taut body on to the padded leather armchair he had indicated. She felt tongue-tied and nervous, and totally incapable of thinking of anything sensible to say. She was conscious of his tall, muscular figure seated in the chair opposite her own, and of those intensely blue eyes that never left her in peace. She was conscious, too, of her own physical awareness of him, of her heightened colour, and her quickening pulse rate. This man was a virtual stranger to her, but he held a fatal attraction for her, and here she was alone with him in his suite and about to share a meal with him. It smacked of intimacy and as her senses stirred, her mind warned her to leave at once while she still had the opportunity to do so, and the will to obey.

Her intentions were thwarted by a knock at the door, and James rose to his feet to admit a waiter wheeling a trolley. The small circular table close to the electric fire was set deftly and swiftly, a ten-Rand note exchanged hands, and then they were left alone once more.

Roxy felt herself go rigid and tense with nerves, and her eyes widened when she saw James remove a bottle of champagne from the ice and begin to undo the silver wrapper. Moments later she jumped nervously at the sound of the cork popping, and then a glass of bubbling liquid was placed in her trembling hand.

He touched the side of her glass with his own before raising it to his lips. 'To the future. '

'To the future, ' she echoed unsteadily, wondering just what the future held in store for her, and longing suddenly for the familiarity and safety of her home in Johannesburg.

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