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d. ‘You borrowed it for a party, as I recall, and never gave it back!’
‘Yes,’ she gulped, overcome with nostalgia.
The silence which followed should have been awkward, but it was not; it was comforting and reassuring and gloriously, gloriously familiar. They stood side by side, watching the full silvery radiance of the moon which turned the snowy landscape into a fairy-tale picture of silver and white.
Triss recalled how they had used to watch the moon in Malibu too, in silence—just like this. Was Cormack remembering that as well? she wondered.
She felt the speed of her heartbeat pick up and begin to pound in her ears, until she was certain that he must be able to hear it too.
‘Triss?’ he said suddenly, quite urgently.
She turned to look into eyes which gleamed with dark, sensual promise and she began to tremble.
Afterwards she would never be quite sure who made the first move. All she knew was that somehow she was in his arms again. He was holding her tightly and she was holding him back as though she could never bear to let him go—and nothing else in the world seemed to matter.
They just stood like that for ages. After a while he took her hand and brought it to his lips and kissed the palm slowly, lingeringly, a question narrowing his darkened eyes. And Triss must have answered it mutely, for he silently led her down the corridor to what was obviously his room.
She made no protest as he quietly closed the door behind them. He did not put the light on, but there was light enough from the moon, and he reached out his hand and moved it slowly down the side of her face, like a blind man reading his way by touch alone.
Her eyes were wide with her own question as he took her once again into his arms and stared down at her in a way which made her begin to quiver helplessly.
‘Cormack,’ she whispered. ‘Should we be doing this?’
‘I can’t not do it,’ he answered simply. ‘Unless you tell me to.’
She shook her head. ‘That isn’t fair!’ she protested. ‘You know I can’t do that.’
‘Well, then.’ He smiled, but it was a smile tinged with sadness as he drew her down onto the bed and began to kiss her with all the restrained and sensual exploration that she remembered from the very first time he had made love to her.
Except that this time she knew what to expect, knew that the act of lovemaking itself would surpass all her wildest dreams, and she returned his kiss willingly, eagerly, until she heard the deep sigh of pleasure which meant that he was finding restraint very difficult indeed.
His hands were actually trembling as they peeled the shirt from her body, and she lay naked and bathed in silver moonlight as she watched him kick off his jeans, doing her best not to squirm with impatience until he was back beside her on the bed.
Just before he entered her he told her that he loved her, but Triss scarcely heard him—her body was crying out with so much need for the fusion with his.
It was quite unlike any other time they had been intimate together, and Triss was moved beyond words by the surprisingly slow, erotic coupling which took her to unimagined heights. Cormack was more tender than she had ever known him, and she felt as though he was piercing the very heart of her as her kiss-muffled cries echoed softly around the room.
And I love him too, she thought. Still. More than I have allowed myself to admit. I must tell him...
But in the end she told him nothing—not straight after they had made love, anyway. She was too dazed. Too elated. Too smugly complacent as she lay tangled with him amid the rumpled sheets and contemplated a future which was suddenly bright—a future which included Cormack.
They were drifting in and out of an easy, warm sleep, when somewhere in the distance Triss heard the ringing of a telephone which went on and on and on. Oh, why doesn’t somebody answer it? she wondered half impatiently, and then the ringing stopped abruptly.
Somebody had, she thought with relief.
Through the mists of sleep she heard a rapping on the bedroom door, and Cormack stirred beside her, his finger and thumb moving instinctively to tantalise her nipple.
‘Oh,’ she sighed, and shifted her body towards his, and he gave a low laugh as he ran his hand possessively over her bottom.
‘Cor-mack!’ yelled a voice from outside the door. ‘Phone!’
‘Go away!’ growled Cormack as he let his mouth drift lazily over Triss’s breast. ‘I’m busy!’
‘It’s urgent!’ persisted the voice. ‘It’s Helga!’
Triss felt him freeze, and then he sat up. And the expression in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. For written in their lapis lazuli depths she could read despair. And guilt.
And Triss knew that whoever Helga was—Cormack was involved with her.
