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She sighed another soul-shattering sigh and rolled on to her back, fearful of her future if she married this man. Would he be faithful to her? Would he make a good father? Would he share his life with her in every way, like her father did with her mother?
For that was what she wanted. Not an empty high society marriage, where the wife was little better than a social hostess. She also wanted her children always with her, not sent off to some toffee-nosed boarding-school. She definitely wanted her husband to come home every night, not to be jetting off all the time on so-called overseas business trips.
Angie accepted unhappily that she might never have all that if she became Mrs Lance Sterling. The kind of marriage he would offer her would probably prove to be hell. But not to become Lance’s wife would be condemning herself to an even worse hell.
She closed her eyes and contemplated that alternative fate. Never to feel his arms around her again, or his lips on hers, or his body blended with hers. Never to hear the wonderfully seductive words he’d whispered to her over and over.
‘You’re so beautiful... I adore you...I’ve always wanted you... I’ll always want you... I’m crazy about you...’
Lance had undoubtedly pulled out all the stops each time they’d made love during the long day and the long, long night. He’d spent limitless time on foreplay, always making sure that she was so aroused by the time they moved on that she would agree to whatever demands he’d made of her, and whatever position he’d suggested. When his supply of protection had been exhausted he hadn’t stopped making love to her, he’d simply stopped seeking satisfaction for himself. He had seemed to gain as much pleasure from seeing her climax as from having one himself, although, in hindsight, Angie doubted that was so. It had simply been his way of corrupting her further to his will. Of totally seducing, then winning her.
And how well he’d succeeded, she conceded with bittersweet realisation. She’d told him proudly that some things would not come easily. What a laugh that was! She obviously hadn’t anticipated her own sexual weaknesses.
The sound of the telephone ringing beside the bed startled her. Who could it be? The only person who knew she was here was Vanessa, Angie having called her flatmate the previous evening to tell her where she was and that she wouldn’t be home that night. Vanessa hadn’t sounded at all surprised, though Angie had been relieved that Vanessa was on her way out on a date and didn’t have time for more questions.
‘Answer it,’ Lance mumbled beside her. ‘Maybe the hotel’s on fire.’
Angie reached for the receiver. ‘Yes?’ she said, a frown on her face and in her voice.
‘That you, Angie?’
Bud! Oh, God, it was Bud! Angie clamped her hand on the phone and groaned.
‘Who is it?’ Lance immediately demanded, propping himself up on one elbow.
‘Bud,’ was all she could manage.
Lance’s swear-word told it all.
Angie gulped and lifted her hand. ‘Yes, it’s me,’ she said simply.
‘Gees, Angie, I couldn’t believe it when Vanessa told me where you were and with whom. I can’t tell you how disappointed I am in you, and how disgusted I am with Lance.’
Angie’s mind began racing. Vanessa would never have told Bud where she was and with whom unless there was a real emergency. Certainly not at this hour of the morning. She would have made up some excuse for her friend. ‘Never mind the lecture, Bud,’ Angie said impatiently. ‘What’s happened? What’s wrong?’
‘Mum’s had a heart attack,’ he said bluntly.
Everything inside of Angie seized up with shock. Her mother had had a heart attack? But she was only forty-eight years old. It didn’t seem possible.
A sick pounding began in her temples, and her heart.
‘She... she’s not dead, is she? God, Bud, don’t tell me she’s dead,’ she cried.
‘No. She’s not dead. But she’s in hospital. Dad says it’s still touch and go.’
Angie broke down in a flood of tears, Lance taking the receiver out of her suddenly shaking hands.
‘This is Lance, Bud,’ she heard him say.’ Angie’s too upset to talk. What’s all this about?’
