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Gil's eyes had narrowed and he was watching her intently now, trying to read her expression. 'You can't be jealous over me, we've only just met,' he said slowly. 'Why should you dislike Miranda so much? Because she's a famous beauty? Because men flock around her?' His mouth twisted in distaste. 'Women are the most extraordinary creatures. You envy Miranda, yet you give off that puritanical air, as if you've never been to bed with a man in your life.'
Caro's face was burning, and his dark eyes glittered. 'Did I hit a nail on the head?'
Caro was so angry her voice sounded high and shaky. 'No, you didn't!'
'You mean you have been to bed with a man?' he mockingly enquired, and she was too humiliated to care what she said any more.
'I'm not as promiscuous as you and your women, anyway! You may think nothing of leaping in and out of bed with anyone you happen to meet, whether they're married to someone else, or not—but I prefer to keep a little self-respect!'
Gil's crooked smile vanished; he looked at her with a
fury that made her nerves jump. 'You little—' he began thickly, then broke off, breathing roughly. There was a long, tense silence; Caro was dry-mouthed and dumb, her ears beating with the sound of her own blood. She wasn't quite sure what was going to happen next, only that they were locked in what felt like mortal combat. When he moved her whole body jerked in apprehension, as if expecting a blow, but he didn't strike her. He kissed her—if you could call it a kiss.
His mouth hit hers like a weapon, forcing her head back against the tree so that her throat was stretched tight, her lips burnt and aching, her eyes wide and hot with unshed tears. It seemed a long, long time before he stopped and then he straightened up and stood there, breathing as if it hurt him, his eyes shut, his lids like the carved eye-sockets of a stone figure.
Caro didn't move, either; she was crying silently, tears trickling down her white cheeks.
Gil opened his eyes at last and looked at her, his brows jerking together as he saw her face. He swore under his breath. 'I'm sorry. God knows what came over me. I lost my temper. It all got out of hand.'
She couldn't stop crying, partly because she was in shock, and partly because her mouth was swollen and hot, as if she had been stung by a bee.
He groaned. 'Caro, please! Don't!' he said, raking his hands through his thick black hair. 'What on earth can I say to you? I didn't mean that to happen.'
That made it worse; that was terrible. Gil hadn't wanted to kiss her at all, he had done it out of sheer temper, and now he wished he hadn't. She hated him and, at the same time, she cried helplessly.
Gil suddenly bent his head; his mouth brushed her lids, and that was comforting; she sighed shudderingly. It sent a shock of disbelief through her a second later, though, when she felt the tip of his tongue run along her wet lashes. Her sobs stopped, she stood very still, quivering at the strange sensation, her tears over.
'That's better,' he whispered, dropping brief, light kisses on her brow, her eyes, cheeks, nose. He put both arms around her and began to rock her on his body, murmuring soothingly to her as if she were a child, stroking her long brown hair, holding her close.
Now that they had both calmed down, she could have escaped, pushed him away, run up the drive into her house, but she didn't; she leaned on him, letting the warmth of his body seep into her, and after a while he put a finger under her chin to lift her head and kissed her again, very differently, his lips gentle, sensual, their caress making a languorous sweetness grow inside her body. Her arms went round his neck; she kissed him back, her hands in his thick dark hair, becoming aware of a tension in the muscles at the back of his neck and gently massaging it away.
He groaned, lifting his mouth. 'Mmm.. .that's nice. Don't stop. I've had the most appalling day, just one damn thing after another—that's just what I need.' He buried his face in her throat, and one hand strokingly explored her body in the tight-fitting jersey wool dress.
Alarm bells began to ring inside her head a second later as she felt the long zip unpeel down the back of her dress and Gil's hand slide inside.
'I must go in,' she stammered, hearing the thud of his heart close to her, the rough sound of his breathing.
'Not yet,' he said, and she watched his mouth and ached with desire, but she had herself under control now; she was able to think clearly again. What was in Gil's mind? No prizes for guessing that. He was making it pretty obvious. His hand had moved silkily round to her breasts; she tightened in panic as his fingers intimately caressed her bare, warm skin. She had to stop him before it was too late.
She didn't kid herself that it was really her Gil wanted. He would have made a pass at any woman who happened to come along tonight. Gil had just had to watch his lover go back to her husband, and he was angry, jealous, unhappy.
He needed some comfort, he needed to feel somebody wanted him, he needed a woman; but Caro wasn't prepared to accept the role. Briefly, she had felt such a wild pull of attraction that she might have been fool enough to let him go on making love to her, but she had waited too long to fall in love to be ready to play stand-in to some other woman.
When a man made love to her, it was going to be because he loved and wanted her, herself, and not for any other reason.
She pushed Gil away with such force that he went in sheer surprise. 'No,' she said sharply.
He blinked, suddenly shaken out of that physical absorption in pleasure. 'What's wrong?'
'I don't want to get involved,' Caro said. 'Please, stop it. I'm tired, no doubt you are, it has been a very long day. Can we just say goodnight?'
The heated excitement drained slowly out of Gil's face as he met her cool stare. 'I didn't have you down as a tease!' he muttered, then dropped his hands and shrugged. 'Oh, have it your own way, then! Goodnight!'
Caro didn't hang about to be polite. She wanted to put as much space between them as she could, so now that she was free she just ran, without looking back. All the same, she felt his anger following her every step of the way.
CHAPTER SIX
Caro went in to work next morning so nervous that she twice changed her clothes before deciding to wear a straight black skirt and white V-necked sweater. It wasn't exactly eye-catching, but it made the most of her figure without being too obvious about it. She brushed her brown hair slowly in front of the mirror, gloomily eyeing her face and wishing she was prettier. What was the point of wishing, though? Men didn't turn to stare at her in the street, and that was that. She could spend hours doing her make-up, clip pearl earrings into her ears, fuss over her clothes—but it wouldn't make any difference. She had no glamour, and that was something the Countess of Jurby had in abundance.
