Crescendo

He had gone white again, the black eyes fixed and hard. His mouth was held steady, but she saw the muscle jerking betrayingly beside the stiff lines of it.

She was already subsiding from her angry excite­ment, her body trembling. 'Go away,' she muttered, not looking at him.

She felt him watching her. He laughed harshly. 'I might as well burn my last boat,' he said oddly, and before she had had time to. work out what he meant, he had caught her into his arms and his mouth was covering hers, the hungry burning de­mand of his kiss destroying all her defences, sending

a wave of violent passion pouring through her.

His arms locked round her and the kiss deepened, draining her whole body until she lay limply against him, feeling the urgent pressure of his body grow­ing as he sensed her weakness.

He lifted his head at last and looked down at her flushed face with a gleam in the dark eyes. 'Good­night, my darling.'

She couldn't believe it as he turned and walked away. He knew what had just happened inside her. He had felt it, all the helpless, hungry response she had not been able to control. But he was going.

She stood there, listening to his footsteps on the stairs, trying to make sense of it. If he had wished Gideon could have pressed her to the ultimate sur­render. She had put up no resistance and he had been completely aware of it. Why had he gone?

She tied her wrap tightly around her, her neck bent in a defensive weakness. Gideon was a strategist; he had done this deliberately. She went around the room, tidying it for the night, then went up to her room and climbed into bed. Sleep evaded her for a long time and when she did finally fall into an uneasy doze it was dawn, the sky pale and wind- fretted.

She slept until late in the morning. Grandie did not disturb her. When she eventually struggled downstairs he looked at her quickly.

'How do you feel?'

'Fine,' she said too brightly.

He nodded. 'What would you like for breakfast?'

'I'll get myself some toast,' she told him, moving to cut the bread. Casually she asked: 'Gideon up?'

'He's gone,' said Grandie, and her hand shook. The bread knife slipped and she gave a faint cry. Grandie came hurrying over in distress and stared at the dark red blood seeping from the cut.

He can't do this to me, Marina thought in a sick anguish. I hate him! How could he go like that? He didn't even say goodbye.

Grandie held her hand under the cold tap, watch­ing her white face. 'Does it hurt much?'

It hurt like hell, but she smiled and said: 'No,' because the pain she was feeling had nothing to do with her cut hand.

She knew, of course. She had known last night as her whole body shook in response to his hands and mouth. She wanted him. Whatever he had done, might do, to her, she wanted him. And Gideon had known. She had seen the look in those dark eyes and had been aware that she had betrayed herself finally and for ever. Gideon knew how she felt. Yet he had gone away.

I hate him, she thought. I hate him!

CHAPTER TEN

LATER she walked along the cliffs, watching the con­flict in the skies, the wind driving the clouds across the horizon, the sea tossing and turning like an un­easy sleeper, with points of light glittering across its troubled surface as the sun slid in and out of the windblown clouds.

For all his brilliance as a musician, Gideon had been stunted in his emotional growth in childhood; unable to co-ordinate the demands of body and heart, like an autistic child which never makes the right connections and is isolated from those around him by his own self-obsessed internal life. Children are imprinted with the lessons of life from their earliest years. They learn from their parents how to give and receive love. It is the necessary lesson which they must learn if they are to do more than exist in an emotional vacuum inhabited only by themselves.

Gideon's body had learnt to desire the pleasure women could give, but his heart and mind had re­jected them because of his mother's stifling possessiveness. He had grown up seeing life from that narrow angle, the obsessive camera eye which only focused on a limited objective—his own desire.

When he met Marina his first instinct had been

to reach out and take her, as he always reached out for what he wanted. She saw now that in checking that involuntary right at the start Gideon had been beginning to learn to love. The change had begun in him even then, but he hadn't known it, and he had hidden it from her because he was confused and frightened by the str

ange new feelings inside him.

Staring across the tossing sea, she admitted to her­self that Gideon loved her and that the measure of his ability to love was reflected in the very strength and duration of his fight against it. She had seen for herself how his feelings for her had invaded his music, given to the barren brilliance of his clever­ness a deep and profound emotion which changed it completely.

But he had gone. Why? Why after wringing that yielding passion out of her, despite all her angry protests, had he walked out like that?

She turned to walk back to the cottage, shivering, and stopped dead in her tracks as she saw the tall, lean figure in grey pants and a rollneck blue sweater.