He swept her deftly out of the older man’s grasp. ‘Your hostess will soon be spitting tacks.’
‘She ought to put a spiked collar and chain on him, but I could have coped without the rescue party,’ Kitty said acidly.
‘I’d noticed that Heaven was in the ascendant this evening. Drew doesn’t know how to put a cap on a volcano. Where is he, by the way?’
She tore her hungry eyes from the dark splendour of his features and knew, knew with the bitter certainty of complete self-knowledge, that this moment was what she had been waiting for all evening. ‘He’s gone to get me a drink. I didn’t see you earlier.’
‘Paula and I were late arrivals. Tell me, do you usually dance a foot away from your partner?’ A lean hand settled to her hip, urging her closer, forcing her hands up to his broad shoulders. It was a taste of heaven and hell in one go, the thin fabric of her gown no protection against the virile thrust of his hard thighs. A searing, irradiating heat sent a shaft of lust through her in a hot, ungovernable force that swept her with dizzying weakness. The pagan beat of hunger was in her veins, shattering all self-control, melding her to him in an anguish of desire.
The music ended and he severed her cruelly from the source of that unbearable need. She blinked rapidly, her pupils unfocused, her breath a feathery insufficiency to her lungs. Even so, sixth sense warned her that many eyes were watching them. With a sparkling smile she moved blindly away from him.
Isabel was waiting for her. ‘Drew’s been called out to some pedigree pig, of all things!’ She giggled. ‘He said he should be back in an hour. Poor Drew. Nothing ever goes right for him. He always pulls the short straw.’
‘Does he?’ Kitty wasn’t listening. Paula, vibrant in scarlet that enhanced her lush, dark colouring, was dancing with Jake. Exuding animation, she wound her arms possessively round his neck and reached up to press her mouth briefly to his, flinging her head back again afterwards with an air of almost defiant triumph.
Kitty snatched a glass from a passing waiter’s tray, the sick bile of jealousy like a thousand knives in her stomach.
‘Drew’s my cousin, you know.’ Isabel leant confidentially closer. ‘He’s nuts about Paula but he doesn’t have a chance at the moment. Paula’s hunting for bigger game, and in her place I guess I would too. Jake is so incredibly sexy,’ she savoured. ‘All that brooding intensity matched to that don’t-give-a-damn air and those stunning looks of his make him an irresistible challenge to our sex. Paula’s no wiser than the rest of us.’
Kitty met Isabel’s faintly malicious stare levelly. ‘Jake and I are old friends.’
‘If George had a friendship like that, I’d claw her eyes out. You leave Paula at the starting-line.’ Isabel laughed. ‘I could feel the heat from here, but then Jake prefers blondes. Liz was a blonde, small, rather like you at first glance.’
The words hung in the air and a tiny pulse flickered betrayal at the base of Kitty’s throat. ‘Really?’
Isabel studied her intently. ‘Yes, it was the oddest marriage. She would have tied herself to the railway track for him but she couldn’t handle that aloof quality of his. She tried to make him jealous and he didn’t bat a magnificent eyelash. Women have been known to dash themselves to pieces against that brand of bedrock self-assurance. Jake is not a pussycat you stroke unwarily.’
Isabel’s brother, Mike, crashed the one-sided conversation to ask Kitty to dance. She assented with relief and it was another hour before she was able to evade a constant stream of eager partners. She freshened up in a bathroom with grotesque gold dolphin taps, and on the way back to the party wandered into the cool, inviting depths of greenery in the conservatory off the hall.
The champagne had gone flat in her bloodstream. Her head felt dull, heavy. She practised an increasingly weary smile that meant nothing. Rather like you…rather like you. Her teeth clenched. Oh, sweet lord, was she never to be free of this ceaseless craving?
‘God may have created woman…’
Kitty spun. Jake emerged from the shadowy tangle of jungle vines obscuring the door. ‘But Maxwell created Kitty,’ he concluded softly.
‘Yes.’ It was an answering taunt. ‘He taught me how to walk, he taught me how to talk, he even taught me how to dress— ‘
‘Maxwell’s little doll,’ he incised pityingly.
‘I don’t think that’s funny!’
He released his breath slowly. ‘It’s not funny, it’s very sad. Do you enjoy yourself when you’re acting your heart out? Of course, they’re loving it in there. Larger than life is what the audience wanted and got, but I don’t appreciate the show even if it was all put on for my benefit.’
‘Your benefit?’ she railed tempestuously.
He smiled at her slowly. ‘Don’t kid yourself, Kitty. Heaven could sink a knife into me and laugh but you’d lunge for the Band-aid,’ he murmured. ‘I think it’s time we called a truce.’
Her mouth twitched against her volition. ‘I wasn’t aware we were fighting.’
He captured her easily with one powerful hand, his other catching a handful of hair that shimmered like a river of silver over his long fingers. The tawny glow of his eyes mesmerised her. ‘You can’t fight yourself, Kitty. You’ll only tear yourself in two. And if you fight me, you’ll lose, because I’ll always be stronger than you are.’ He lowered his head, the tip of his tongue tracing the tremulous curve of her lower lip with teasing provocation. ‘I’ll take you riding tomorrow afternoon. Heaven doesn’t ride, does she?’
His mouth was a tantalising whisper from hers and she shivered violently. ‘No.’
He released her. ‘Thank God for that. Tell me, do you think George plays out his Tarzan fantasies in here on these vines?’
She burst out laughing.
‘We really ought to go and look for our respective partners.’ He gave her a wolfish grin and her world tilted on its axis.
Drew was in the hall, chatting to George. He spent the entire drive home apologising. ‘Let me treat you to lunch on Friday,’ he urged, and he had such a hangdog look that she agreed.
It took her forever to fall asleep, and when she did she had a dream filled with such explicit imagery that she awoke in a tangle of bedclothes, moist-skinned and shaken. She would have tied herself to a railway track for him. Kitty squeezed her eyes tight shut, racked by hatred of her own weakness. It was almost noon when she awoke again.
She had just finished lunch when her car was delivered back. The mechanic thrust her keys into her hands. ‘It’s running fine now, Miss Colgan. It wasn’t a big job.’
‘How much do I owe you?’
He looked at her in surprise. ‘Jake Tarrant took care of that this morning.’
Her skin flamed. That would be a titbit to be savoured in the post office. How dared he do that? She stalked out to her car. A heavy night of rain had banished the snow and she drove over to Torbeck in record time.
Jake strode out of the stables, clad in a pair of tight, disreputable jeans and a shirt. ‘I was going to pick you up in half an hour.’
‘I’m not over here to go anywhere with you,’ Kitty assured him vehemently. ‘I’m only here to settle my garage bill.’ She slapped her cheque-book down on the bonnet of her car. ‘What do I owe you?’
He dug a brown hand carelessly into the pocket of his jeans. ‘You can start with an apology.’
‘An apology?’ she mocked coldly.
‘Hanvey won’t release a car until the bill is paid. I saved you the hassle of going to the garage and you got your car back quicker. The receipt’s still in the surgery and I can’t recall the amount offhand,’ he advanced curtly.
She put her cheque-book away. ‘It seems I misunderstood.’
‘Something you excel at.’ He cast her a grim glance and disappeared back into the stables.
Kitty hesitated, reached for her car door and then hovered. She walked into the stables. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Do you really have to seize on every excuse to pick an argument and keep m
e at a distance? Or is it just something you can’t help?’ he shot at her.
She moved forward, suddenly desperately uncertain of herself. ‘I said I was sorry.’
He surveyed her reflectively and then straightened from the black mare he was saddling up. ‘I should make you do this for yourself.’
‘Jake, I can’t stay,’ she muttered.
He studied her with unyielding calm and she started to try and justify her announcement. ‘I haven’t got any boots.’
‘Try the tack-room,’ he advised gently.
‘You’re not any tidier than you used to be,’ she called as she rustled through the dusty collection of riding boots, and all the time, I shouldn’t be doing this, I shouldn’t be doing this was racing through her brain.
‘How long is it since you’ve been riding?’
She swallowed. ‘Grant has a ranch in Texas. We usually go there in the spring.’
Jake led a big grey stallion out of the stable and swung gracefully up into the saddle. The little mare pranced skittishly and Kitty tightened the reins. ‘What do you call her?’
‘Misty.’
‘Is she Merrill’s?’