She wanted to fall in front of him, weeping and beating her fists on the deep-pile carpet. Because you don't love me.
But, instead, she set her head proudly. 'For lots of reasons, which you couldn't begin to understand, but mainly because I choose not. I'm not going to have an affair with you, Jared—
there's no future in it for either of us.'
'No long-term future, maybe. But, just for once, why not live for the present, Petra?' His voice took on a sensual throb. 'We could have a marvellous month together . . . '
She could feel the sexual pull he was exerting on her. Last night he had bent her to his will, but now he must not break her. In the long hours since before dawn she had made up her mind, and, even though inside she was weeping tears of blood, she must stay firm. To finish with him now was like cutting off part of herself, but to go on until he left, and he surely would leave—if she'd had any doubts his last words had told her that—would rip her in half so that she'd never be whole again.
'With no strings attached,' she said in a dead voice. 'That's the phrase, isn't it? No, Jared. I've told you—no.'
His mouth thinned to a razor slit. 'Why do women always have to make a five-act tragedy out of everything?'
'Maybe it's because we have more to lose,' she said tautly.
'Ah, of course. Now we're getting to it. I suppose you see yourself as tarnished goods.' And when she said nothing, 'That's a very old-fashioned view, my sweet.'
'Perhaps I am old-fashioned.'
'So you'll confess all to Polruan, and go down on bended knee to beg his forgiveness. Or maybe you plan on taking a leaf out of Iseult's book, and on the wedding-night—'
'I'm not going to marry Simon,' she said very quietly, and as she held out her left hand, bare of the ring that nestled now in the pocket of her robe, she saw the flicker of triumph in those cool eyes. 'Oh, yes, you've succeeded, Jared. You told me that you were determined to come between us, and you have. When you first came back I said that you brought nothing but trouble, and I was right.'
Her lips trembled, but she forced herself on. 'I could have been happy with Simon. Oh, not wildly, ecstatically so, perhaps—' the way I could have been with you, but she forced that searing thought down '—with none of the passion that you think is so important, but happy.'
'But surely, after last night, you still can't deny that passion matters?'
'No—you've made me see that.' At the memories of their lovemaking a shaft of anguish speared through her. 'And you've also shown me that I don't love Simon. In fact, I knew that before—last night. But what you don't see is that there must be the two—passion and love.' She paused again. 'And with you there's only the passion, isn't there?'
His eyes bleak, he shrugged slightly, then turned away. The simple gesture
— more telling than any brutal verbal rejection—almost broke her finally.
'Just tell me one thing, Jared: how long have you had me set up like this?'
'Only since yesterday, of course, when you told me that you were off up to lover-boy.' He was leaning against the window-frame, one hand propping his head. 'I knew that if I was going to
— save you from yourself,' he half turned and gave her a faintly ironic smile, 'I had to act fast. And Sam's little escapade was too good a chance to miss.'
'Your bad shoulder—that was a lie?'
'Well, I may have—er—exaggerated it a little.'
'And I don't suppose your sprained wrist will prevent you from driving us home?' What a fool she'd been—a gullible fool.
'Of course not.' Straightening up, he came over to her and rested his fingers against her swollen lips. Very lightly, but her whole body jerked slightly under it, and he smiled, that cool, self-assured smile. 'One day, Petra, you'll thank me for this.'
She stared up at him, unable to move for a moment, then turned, blindly fumbling for the door-handle. Without turning, she said, 'I'll wait in my room. Let me know when it's time to leave.'
As she went to close the door he delivered one final barb. 'Oh, just one thing. Don't forget to rumple up your bed. I'm sure you'd hate the maid to know the sordid truth—that it hasn't been slept in.'
CHAPTER ELEVEN
'So you're losing your neighbour, dear.'
Petra, locked into her own thoughts, barely recognised Mrs Pearce. She looked at her blankly.
'I'm sorry?'