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'Was I? You seem to know more about our relationship than I do,' he said drily. 'I thought we were simply thrown together by force of circumstances.'
'But you…'
On the point of reminding him that he had gone to London with the other girl, she suddenly realised what a dangerous path she was treading and closed her mouth firmly before she could endanger herself any further.
'Stop looking for excuses, Christy.' His voice was harsh, and edged with temper. 'What happened between us happened, and I for one don't regret it.'
He stopped the Land Rover with a jerk that made it slide forward a few feet, jolting Christy slightly against her seat belt. As she straightened her body she could feel her heart pounding like a steam engine.
'I'm tired of getting the cold-shoulder treatment. I'm sorry if I wasn't the man you wanted to take your virginity, more sorry than I can say.' He sounded tired now, and guiltily she realised what a strain the whole afternoon must have been for him. 'If you want me to apologise for making love to you, or to say that I regret it, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed.'
For the first time since she had known him, he turned his back on her and got out of the Land Rover without either waiting to help her or checking that she was following him.
He had reached the door before she realised how cold she was and managed to stumble after him.
He had switched on the hall light, and its harsh glare illuminated the tension in his face. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something, but what could she say? That she didn't regret it either; that… but no, she couldn't say that, otherwise he might think…
What? That she might welcome his lovemaking again? That she might be agreeable to just that sort of brief affair she knew would tear her apart?
'Dominic, can't we declare a truce—just for tonight?'
He looked down at her for a long time, his eyes glittering oddly between the black fringe of his lashes. He was looking at her almost as though he resented having to do so… almost as though… her stomach lurched and she touched her tongue to her lips nervously.
'For God's sake, don't do that. Aren't things bad enough as they are, without you behaving like a provocative…' He broke off and swore as he saw her face, reaching for her, but it was too late, Christy was already backing away from him and running out into the freezing darkness, his words hammering relentlessly against her brain as past and present met and merged, and she was once again that vulnerable seventeen-year-old who had gone to him with the gift of her love and her body, and had been rejected.
'Christy…' She heard him call her name, but it scarcely penetrated the turmoil of her thoughts. The snow was too thick for her to run, but she stumbled on, not knowing where she was going, only that she had to escape.
When Dominic grabbed hold of her from behind, she cried out and turned to push him off, but her feet slipped and she fell backwards into the thick snow, taking Dominic with her.
His weight crushed the breath from her lungs, the cold sting of the snow on her face and the shocking awareness of losing her balance making her shiver convulsively beneath him.
'Christy—my God, are you all right?'
She had started to cry, huge, gulping sobs that tore at her throat until it was raw with pain from trying to drag in lungfuls of icy cold air. She could feel the warmth of her own tears on her face as Dominic levered himself up off her.
He picked her up, striding back to the house, carrying her into his study.
Oh God, if he had brought her to any room but this! Snow clung to her clothes, but he seemed unaware of it as he sat her in front of the fire and started to tug off her Wellington boots.
'Christy, I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I didn't mean…' His words were a husky, pleading sound that washed against her ears, without their meaning really penetrating. She shivered, protesting between sobs as he pulled off her socks and rubbed her freezing feet.
'Christy, listen to me… It was just my vile, abominable temper. I never meant…'
She heard him curse and the sound penetrated, her blank eyes focusing on his face.
'Come on. Let's get you out of these wet things.' He spoke to her as gently as though she was a child, and like a child she sat lethargically and let him strip her down to her underwear and then wrap her in a warm towel that he brought down from upstairs.
'You stay here. I'll go and make us both a hot drink.'
By the time he came back she had herself under control. When he came in with two mugs of coffee she said huskily, 'I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to do.'
'We all do stupid things at times.' He looked so sombre and drawn that she yearned to cradle his head against her breast and comfort him.
'It was wonderful… this afternoon,' she said half shyly, searching for a safe subject for conversation. 'So beautiful… that perfect baby.'
Something in the yearning quality of her voice must have reached him because he said softly, 'Would you like children, Christy?'
Only yours. She flushed as she thought she had spoken out loud, gratefully realising that she hadn't after all.
