Wounds of Passion

‘Well, if you need me, yell,’ Alex said slowly, then she heard the door shut, his footsteps on the stairs.

There was a silence, then Patrick said, ‘As I was saying when your uncle arrived, you can’t marry that guy. Now I’ve met him I can’t believe you ever said you would. I know you say he makes you feel safe, but it will be the safety of a gaol, Antonia. Oh, it will be a luxurious cell, and no doubt he’s kind and generous, but he’s also a good fifteen years older than you, he’s almost bald now, and he’s boring, Antonia. Don’t pretend you don’t think so. I saw your face when you were with him. He bores you. You went into this engagement like a sleep-walker, not really aware what you were doing, but any day now you’re going to wake up and realise you’re trapped, and by then it could be too late to get away.’

She had promised Cy she wouldn’t tell anyone that their engagement was over. She turned away, her face pale and mutinous, troubled.

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she said.

‘Of course you don’t! Reality might break in, and you can’t take too much reality, can you, Antonia?’ Contempt grated in his voice and she flinched.

‘Oh, go away, leave me alone! Alex...everyone downstairs...will be wondering what we’re doing up here.’

Patrick’s eyes gleamed, a vivid, electrifying blue. ‘You mean they’ll wonder if we’re making love?’

‘No!’ she contradicted, a rush of hot blood entering her face.

‘Of course they will!’ he muttered. A pause, then he said huskily, ‘And I’ve thought about nothing else all evening.’

Everything in her stopped: her heart stopped beating; her mind stopped working; her lungs stopped drawing in air. For a beat of time she just looked at him, suspended in space; and the sound of his husky voice was like the oceanic roar of her own blood as she heard it begin pumping again. Everything inside her began again. She was reborn. The shock of rebirth made her shake violently, barely able to stand.

‘Oh, Patrick,’ she whispered, looking at his mouth, aching for the touch of it.

His facial bones were tightly clenched, his darkly flushed skin taut over them. ‘I’ve been dying of frustration ever since Alex and his wife interrupted us,’ he said in a deep, hoarse voice. ‘I need you, Antonia.’

Helplessly she swayed towards him, captive to the sound of his voice, forgetting everything else in her own driving need for completion. She had been aching with frustration too, all evening.

Patrick put his head down and she felt him kissing her throat, burying his mouth in her, his lips apart, the moist heat of his mouth sending shudders down her back. His arm closed possessively round her, pulling her so close that their bodies almost merged. ‘You can’t marry Cy Devvon,’ he muttered. ‘I couldn’t bear it if you did, Antonia. You’ve got to marry me, not him. Don’t you know I’m desperately in love with you?’

Her heart turned over and over like a bird in ecstatic flight, skimming and soaring on spiral winds.

She gazed up at him through the eye-holes of her mask, trembling convulsively as what he had said sank in... He loved her; he wanted to marry her. She had known he wanted her, desired her; but until now she had been afraid to hope that he actually loved her.

He watched her face as if waiting for some answer, groaned impatiently. ‘I want to see what’s going on inside that head of yours! Take that damned mask off!’ He reached behind her, fumbled with the strings; the mask fell down and fluttered to the floor beside them, but Antonia didn’t even notice.

All she could see was Patrick’s hard, insistent face, the deep blue eyes hunting over her features.

‘Tell me the truth—how do you really feel about me, Antonia?’ he asked in that tense, shaken voice, and she gave a long sigh.

‘I love you,’ she whispered and heard his sharp intake of breath.

He caught her face between his hands. ‘Darling,’ he said thickly, kissing her with fire and compulsion. Her head began to spin; she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back with a hunger that made Patrick tremble, muttering her name into her yielding mouth.

Antonia fell into that soft velvety darkness again, her eyes shut, her whole body given up to his hands, her mouth quivering wildly under his. The dreams which had haunted her for two years had become her reality. Past and present merged; her blood ran hotly with desire.

Patrick broke off the long kiss at last, groaning, ‘What I want to do is take you to bed, but I’m afraid that any minute now Alex is coming back, and we can’t just lock the door and to hell with him; he would think I was murdering you, and break the door down.’

She laughed unsteadily, leaning on him. ‘Poor Alex; he must be feeling very worried.’

‘Not as worried as I was when your fiancé arrived!’ Patrick said grimly, looking into her eyes. ‘One minute I was so sure you were mine—we’d been making love so passionately before the party—and the next he walked in and when I saw the two of you together I was terrified you were going to go through with that marriage.’

She hesitated, torn between her promise to Cy and her need to tell Patrick the truth.

‘No, I wouldn’t have,’ she finally compromised.

Patrick searched her face, grimacing. ‘Well, I wasn’t so sure. I knew he could offe

r you a lot more than I could, materially. He’s rich and that palazzo of his would be a big temptation to anyone; and you had said he made you feel safe. I was afraid you’d opt for safety and security.’

‘No, I’m opting for love,’ she said softly, and saw his mouth curve into a smile.