The Threat of Love

Gil did not seem to be listening. He slid a hand inside his jacket pocket and produced a small, square, velvet-covered box. She stared at it as if it were a snake and might bite her. He opened it on a dazzle of red and white; she remembered the ring as soon as she saw it.

'This was my grandmother's engagement ring,' he said, raising it so that the facets of the great ruby flamed in the light, the little diamonds around it glittering. 'She wants you to wear it, but if you'd rather have a new ring...'

'No,' she said involuntarily, her eyes on the ruby. 'It's beautiful.' Then she pulled herself together. 'I'm not marrying you!' she told him. How could she, now? How could her father do this to her?

'Well,' he said doubtfully, his dark head on one side as he contemplated her, 'we could live together, of course, without bothering to get married, but I shudder to think of the Press coverage we'd get. No, much simpler to get married. Far less fuss in the long run.'

'You told me you weren't going to be stampeded into a shotgun wedding!' she bitterly reminded him. 'What changed your mind? What exactly did my father offer you? That you would remain in control at Westbrooks?'

'Yes,' he agreed coolly.

Her blood turned to ice; a sliver of it seemed to reach her heart and she wanted to die. 'And you claim you can't be bought?' she spat at him.

T didn't say I'd accepted.' Gil suddenly seized her hand and deftly slid the ruby and diamond ring up her ring finger. 'It's a pretty good fit, oddly enough,' he said in some surprise. 'I thought it might be too big, but my grandmother's hands must be more or less the same size as yours.'

Caro stared dumbly at the deep red glow against her pale skin. The ruby seemed to pulse while she gazed into it, and she loved the weight of it, the beauty of it, on her hand, but she shook her head, pulling free of Gil and taking the ring off.

'No, I can't marry you,' she said, offering him the ring.

He took it and put it back into the box without argument. T'm leaving next month,' he murmured and Caro frowned.

'Leaving? Westbrooks?'

'Yes, Westbrooks—and the country.' He sat down again on the couch, and Caro automatically sat down, too, stunned by what he had just said.

'You're going abroad? A holiday?'

He shook his head, leaned back and crossed his legs casually. 'No, I've accepted a job in California, running a new department store in Beverly Hills. It's an exciting project, a new concept in shopping, but I can't talk about that yet, it's all very hush-hush in case the opposition steal a march on us. The building is almost complete, but we won't be opening until the autumn, which gives me plenty of time to get my operation in place.'

Caro swallowed, her throat hurting. He was going away. Gil was leaving the country, going thousands of miles away, to the west cost of America. She might never see him again. 'If you've accepted this new job, why did you go through that pantomime of asking me to marry you, offering me that ring...?' she muttered harshly. 'Was that some sort of joke? You must have a weird sense of humour if you found that funny!'

'Watch me laugh,' he said, turning his face to her, and as she looked into those dark eyes her body began to shake and she couldn't breathe. Gil's hand caught her arm and dragged her towards him. At the first touch of his mouth she was burning, her body on fire as she clung, kissing him hungrily. Gil had both arms round her now, and they toppled and fell from the couch to the floor, without the kiss ending. Caro almost lost all sense of her identity; she was consumed with passion, and only when Gil broke the kiss did she slowly come back to consciousness, lifting dazed eyes to his flushed face.

'I love you,' Gil said hoarsely.

Caro couldn't believe what he had said; tears came into her eyes, she shut them, shaking her head.

'Yes,' Gil said. T don't know why or how, I think it started the day I saw you in that fitting-room at Westbrooks. You have a very sexy body and I couldn't take my eyes off it.'

She remembered that, blushing. 'Or your hands,' she said.

'Or my hands,' Gil agreed, laughing huskily. T wanted you. I've wanted other women, of course...'

She looked coldly at him. T know.'

He laughed, his eyes tender. 'You terrifying woman! OK, there have been other women, I like women and they usually like me, but I never even considered marrying any of them. I liked my freedom too much, I was having too good a time.'

'And they didn't have fathers as rich as mine?' Caro bitterly accused.

'If I told you that didn't matter a row of beans" to me, would you believe me?' he asked and she shook her head. 'Then I won't bother.' He shrugged, his mouth hard. 'If you don't trust me enough to marry me, OK. We won't get married.'

She sat up, shakily pushing her hair back from her face. 'Gil, how can I trust you when I know the sort of women you've always dated? I read the gossip columns, I've seen Miranda. She's beautiful, I expect they all were. I'm not.'

He put a hand under her chin and turned her reluctant face to him, contemplating it thoughtfully. 'No, you're not.'

She hadn't expected him to lie, but she hated hearing the truth from him, and her grey eyes blazed. Gil grinned at her, his long index finger flicking down her cheek.

'What a temper you've got! Did you want me to say you were beautiful? We're going to tell the truth to each other, Caro, it's the only way we can live together. Your face isn't beautiful, but your body is magnificent.' He watched the rise of her colour, laughing. 'It really turns me on,' he whispered, and she wanted so badly to believe him, but she still couldn't forget Miranda.