Page 23 of Passion's Prey

But it wasn't that at all, as he very well knew. Licking her dry lips, she said, 'Look, Jared, it's very kind of you, but I'd really rather not accept it. I—I've got plenty of nighties already.'

'Oh, I'm quite sure you have. I've seen one of them, remember—and if it's typical, well . . . '

His voice sank to a soft purr. 'Surely you must see, my sweet Petra, that that delectable body of yours was made for some man to cosset in silk?'

'Stop it, Jared.' The flush on her cheeks was of sheer anger now. 'I know just what you're doing—and it's not going to work. You shouldn't have bought it for me.'

'I should have left it to Simon to do that, you mean?'

'Yes—I mean, no.'

Under the duvet, her hands clenched at her sides, and she lay gazing up at him, baffled. Little by little, under his tireless, insidious pressure, she could feel her power to defy him being sapped. Like the apple tree in her back garden, constantly laid bare to the Atlantic gales, she was being bent to his will. But she must resist him, she had to there could be no surrender. "Anyway,' she said firmly, 'thank you for looking after me. I'm feeling much better, so—'

Without warning he rested a warm hand on her forehead. 'Hmm, pretty cool. I don't think you're getting flu. You just flaked out through sheer physical exhaustion.'

"That's right,' she agreed quickly. Her collapsing in a heap certainly hadn't my thing at all to do with any tensions inside herself whenever he was around. So I can go back now—'

"And get double pneumonia in that igloo next door? That I simply cannot allow. No—end of conversation,' as she went to break in—pointlessly, as usual, she thought in frustration. 'Do you feel like some lunch?'

'Lunch?? How long had she been asleep, for heaven's sake?

'Yes, it's ... ' h e eased back the sleeve of his navy sweater and

glanced at his watch.

' . . . nearly one. So, fancy some cold turkey breast, salad, bread rolls?'

'Well . . . ' Oh, what was the use?' Petra subsided on to her pillow with a fairly good grace.

'Yes, please.'

'That's a good girl. I knew you'd see sense.' He straightened up and stood looking down at her.

'I should think Sam's finished his lunch by now. Shall I call him up?'

'Oh, you brought him in last night as well.' She smiled at him, a wholly natural smile. 'That was kind of you.'

'Actually, I had no option—he brought himself in,' he said drily. 'And, from the way he positioned himself at the foot of your bed last night, he seems to regard himself as the selfappointed guardian of your virtue.' He opened the bedroom door and called, 'OK, Sam, she's awake.'

Seconds later the big cat appeared and, leaping up on to the bed, butted his soft black head into her face, purring loudly.

'Hello, my baby.' She sat up, taking care to hitch the duvet up with her, and taking him in her arms, cuddled him to her.

'He didn't scratch you or anything, did he?' She looked anxiously at Jared, who was regarding them both with a rather strange expression in his eyes, but he shook his head.

'No, we've called a New Year truce. I feed him liver pate, chicken fillet and cold turkey, and he refrains from tearing me limb from limb. And, as you see, Sam,' he addressed the cat, who was eyeing him through narrow green slits, 'I've kept my part of the bargain. She's quite unscathed—

so far.' His grey-blue eyes locked with hers, then his lips curved in a humourless smile,

'Funny—last night I was aiming for you to end up in my bed. But not on your own.' And he was gone before she could even think of any response.

She bent to kiss Sam's head then, when he settled himself to begin grooming, almost apprehensively she lifted the duvet to see exactly what it was she was wearing, and her eyes grew round. The nightdress was full-length, a cool drift of pale amber silk around her body, while the bodice—what there was of it—was composed entirely of narrow flounces of matching silk lace. Putting out a trembling hand, she touched a fold of fragile silk. It was quite simply the most beautiful nightdress she'd ever seen, much less worn. She found herself revelling in the feel of the silk, which clung to her like a caress, imprinting itself on her skin like the touch of a lover's body

. . . She bit hard on her lip as that tide of shame—and fear—surged through her again. If only it had been Simon and not Jared who had given it to her she'd have shed tears of pure delight. Simon, though, had given her a pretty, early Victorian pillbox in silver and pink enamel. It must have cost at least as much as the nightdress, but even so . . .

CHAPTER SIX

Petra flung back the duvet, quite unable to bear the churning unease a moment longer, and leapt out of bed, sending Sam flying. She tore off the nightdress and dragged on her clothes in fevered haste, just pausing to scrape all her hair back from her face to make an uncompromising ponytail. Jared was in the kitchen. When she appeared in the doorway he glanced up, and she saw his lips tighten fractionally, but all he said was, 'I wondered how long you'd dare stay in it.'

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