Page 15 of Savage Obsession

he was already regretting his hasty defence of her by the way he suddenly sat down under the frozen threat of Charles's eyes. And when Charles warned, 'Try to interfere in my life, and you'll find yourself plas­tered on the walls,' Beth stalked to the door, her body rigid with tension because she knew he meant every word.

She paused, looking back at William, who re­fused to meet her eyes and dropped his gaze to the floor. 'I'm sorry. I never had any intention of al­lowing you to become embroiled in my domestic concerns. I'll pack now. It's for the best.'

She made her way to her room, her legs stiff, as if her body was in shock, and gathered her things together, hurling them haphazardly into her suitcase. Pummelling them down with her tight little fists to make them fit, she knelt to fasten the clasps and the light went out, lightning hitting a power line somewhere, knocking out the supply. And that dark voice said from the doorway, almost politely, 'Do you need any help?'

'No!' she said quickly, and then her breath locked in her lungs. She couldn't see him, only sense his dark presence, like a nightmare, every last cell in her body totally and utterly aware of his nearness, and if he came closer she would scream.

Near or far, he represented a danger she could no longer hope to handle. Once she had believed in the power of her love, but that was futile now. It hadn't worked, and never would, and his draconian pursuit of her, his need to bring her to heel, was scaring her out of her wits.

But she wasn't going to let him see that. The one gain from their separation had been in the area of her pride, her self-respect. And she stood up, holding the suitcase in front of her like a shield, her voice tight with the outrage of what he was doing to her, what he was making her endure.

'You had no right to force your way in here, throwing your weight around. Apart from being the height of bad manners, you made me feel cheap, tawdry.'

'I have every right when I hear another man pro­posing marriage to my wife. I told you I'd be back, and if you feel cheap and tawdry then maybe that's down to the liberties you've been allowing Templeton to take over the last few weeks.'

His voice came thickly through the enveloping darkness, more oppressive than the storm-laden at­mosphere, and the thunder growled and prowled, a fitting accompaniment, and she bit down on her lip, ignoring that disgusting insult, because who was he to dish out abuse when he was no doubt thoroughly enjoying an intimate relationship with the woman he intended to make his second wife? She hurled at him instead, 'OK, so you said you'd be back. I've been shaking in my shoes! So what took you so long?'

As if she didn't know! Why should he tear himself away from his south of France romantic interlude with the bewitching Zanna, the company of his child, to bother with his redundant wife? And why he had bothered to turn up eventually she would never know, unless it was to demonstrate how well he could wield the big stick!

'I doubt if the explanations would interest you,' he told her drily. 'You have shown yourself to be remarkably short on interest and concern—except for yourself.'

And she was still trying to get over the gross un­fairness of that taunt when lightning jagged through the sky, throwing the grim lines of his devilish fea­tures into sharp relief, and he stepped forward, silently covering the space between them, one hand wrenching the suitcase from her, the other taking her arm, his grip inescapable.

'Let's go. I can think of better places to talk this through.'

In the darkness he was too close and Beth's blood thundered, the storm inside her outstripping the storm beyond the stout farmhouse walls. It was difficult negotiating their way through the house in the thick blackness, but Beth wasn't thinking about that, every sense, every thought unwillingly con­centrated on the man at her side.

And once, as she blundered into the kitchen table, he slid an iron-hard arm around her, hauling her back against the tense warmth of his body.

Beth gave an agonised gasp, the effect of being so close to him again, her body melting into his as if they were two parts of a whole, hurting her more than her painful collision with the edge of the table.

But after a brief, smothered expletive, he moved on, taking her with him, and because they were so close she could feel the hammerbeats of his heart, hear his rapid breathing. Even so, he seemed able to see in the dark, like a cat, in spite of his being in unfamiliar surroundings, and when he released her to drag open the door that led to the courtyard she sagged against the old oak frame, pulling in lungfuls of the rain-sweet air.

And only then did her thought processes come together sufficiently to enable her to ask the question that should have been uppermost in her mind, but hadn't been.

'Where are we going? And why?' Why insist on taking her away from here when everything could have been dealt with by solicitors? And he surely didn't want her back at South Park when he would be taking Zanna and Harry there as soon as the divorce came through.

And his terse answer bore that out.

'Nowhere you know. Just a place I've found where we can settle this without interruptions, other people.'

There was little point in arguing. What could she say? That she refused to budge an inch? That would precipitate another scene, drenched with unspoken violence. And she couldn't do that to William. This was his home and this was her problem.

'No squeals of protest?' he enquired witheringly. 'You surprise me.' He took her arm and hustled her out into the rain, his breath hissing, 'No doubt you realise that it's no use running to Templeton for help. Your brave suitor has already thrown in the towel.'

His taunt infuriated her. She was simmering furiously as he hauled her along, her feet splashing through the puddles, the rain stinging her face, plastering her flimsy dress to her body. Who was he to jeer at the older man? William was decent and kind; he would never treat a woman the way Charles had treated her. And no man in his right mind would stand up to Charles Savage in this murderous mood, so his sarcasm, his taunt about throwing in the towel, were out of line.

And as they reached his car she told him so, wrenching her arm from his punishing grasp and informing him roughly, 'William is twice the man you'll ever be; he's—'

'I really don't want to know,' he drawled in return. 'Just get in.'

Which, helped by an ungentle shove from behind, Beth accomplished in seconds and, dripping wet, fuming, sat rigidly in the passenger-seat while the rain lashed the windscreen and Charles tossed her case into the boot before getting in beside her.

Wordlessly, he removed his sodden shirt and threw it on to the back seat, then, flicking on the courtesy light, he turned to her, his face all hard lines, instructing, 'Take your dress off.'

'No.' She started to shiver but felt her body go hot, remembering all too vividly that episode in the woods when their child had been conceived, knowing that her defences against him were all too few, and very tottery. She was already painfully aware of his semi-nudity, the hair-roughened skin covering hard muscle and bone, the almost over­powering need to touch, to run her fingers over the wide thrust of his shoulders, trace the tight nipples with the tips of her fingers and follow the thick hairline to where it disappeared intriguingly be­neath the low waistband of his jeans.

And he told her with quiet menace, 'Take it off, or I'll do it for you.' And he meant it, he meant it all right, and there was a sob in her throat, choking her, as her shaking fingers went slowly to the top button nestling between her breasts.

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