Consciousness returned slowly. She was aware of having fainted and now of lying on something firm and comfortable, of a sense of weakness, but most overpoweringly of all she was left with a vivid memory of those seconds before she had fainted: of seeing in her mind’s eye the face and figure of the man she had dreamed of as a lover, suddenly transferred to the man who had been standing opposite. It had been a shatteringly unnerving sensation, but one she was over now. She struggled to sit up, opening her eyes, to discover James crouching down beside her, his forehead creased in a frown.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ he demanded bitingly. ‘You reacted to me then as though you feared I was about to rape you.’
The strong note of distaste in his voice warned her that she wasn’t going to escape without explanation. She could hardly tell him the truth—Jenna felt her skin grow hot just at the mere thought of telling anyone about that intensely disturbing dream.
Thinking quickly she went instinctively into the attack. ‘It would hardly be surprising if I did after the way you…kissed me the other night.’
His eyes locked cynically on hers. ‘Possibly, if you were an adolescent virgin on the verge of womanhood I might just buy that, but you’re not…You’re an adult woman with a teenage daughter.’
‘And because of that I can be mauled and abused as your sex pleases, is that it?’ Jenna flung at him, bitterly furious.
‘I kissed you because it was either that or hit you,’ James told her bluntly. ‘And you know it. It was a ploy your sex has been known to use when they want a man’s attention,’ he told her mockingly, watching her shocked reaction with eyes that comprehended the tiny movement of her throat as she registered her revulsion. ‘All right, I acquit you of that!’
Jenna managed to regain control of herself sufficiently to say rustily, ‘Well, thanks very much…’
Just that effort was enough to drain her of energy and she let her head fall back on to the cushions of the leather chesterfield, closing her eyes for a moment.
She heard James’s soft laugh, and sensed that he had moved, but she was too exhausted to open her eyes until she felt his hand on her neck.
As his fingers slid into her hair, pinning her head, her eyes flew open.
‘If it was my kiss that frightened you so much, perhaps I’d better do something about it.’
He was going to kiss her and there was nothing she could do about it. Her body tensed as he bent his head, her eyes staring blankly into his, her mouth compressed in rigid rejection of his intent. His breath sighed lightly against her skin, sensitising the tiny delicate hairs and making her shiver. His mouth touched her eyes forcing her to blink and then close them. His body wasn’t touching hers in any way at all, and yet she was acutely conscious of him. She wanted to raise her hands to push him away but she was frightened of the contact with his maleness.
His mouth touched hers, lightly, delicately, caressing the corners. His hand released its hold of her head and slid round to cup her jaw. Apprehension crawled along her spine as the soft pad of his thumb slowly caressed her bottom lip. Her mouth felt dry. She wanted to open it and touch her lips with her tongue. She fought the impulse shuddering with shock as she felt the warmth of James’s mouth caressing her own. His teeth tugged gently on her bottom lip and then his tongue ran lightly over its swelling contours, softly probing for entrance.
Another deep shudder racked her and Jenna knew she could not endure any more, raising her palms to his chest she pushed hard, opening her mouth to say fiercely, ‘No!’
The sound was silenced beneath the smothering heat of James’s kiss. His tongue stroked and cajoled her own, the shock of the unexpected intimacy of what he was doing to her causing the strength to drain out of her arms as they dropped from his chest. Against her mouth, James made a softly sensual murmur of protest. His fingers grasped her wrist and then slid to entwine with hers, lifting her palm back to his body, and holding it there. The pressure of his mouth on hers was slowly increasing, deepening.
In stunned shock she felt him move her hand, so that it was resting against bare skin instead of
his shirt front. His body felt hot, alien and intensely masculine. She wanted to draw away from him and yet the movement of his mouth against her own was inducing a mind-drugging languor that felt like falling into warm cotton wool. She wanted to protest, to resist, but she felt unable to drag her mouth away from his.
When she tried his teeth nipped sharply at her skin, bruising her mouth as he refused to let her go. Fear clawed at her stomach and suddenly she was trembling wildly, reality sliding into fantasy so that it was not James who held and kissed her but that other——Fear and panic mingled sickeningly inside her, and then totally unexpectedly she was free. She blinked in dazed stupefaction as James drew away from her, conscious of a strange ringing in her ears.
‘Some people choose the damnedest times to phone,’ James commented wryly standing up. He was looking at her in a way that disturbed her, and she shivered, wondering if he had known that she was so lost in his kiss that she hadn’t even heard the phone.
As he went to answer it reality came back. If she stayed now he might well take it that she was tacitly inviting him to make love to her. Shivering, she got up; he had his back to her. She found her bag and headed for the door, closing it softly behind her. As she ran through the hall and out to the lift she prayed that he would not come after her. By luck she managed to find a cruising taxi right outside the apartment. Clambering into it she gave the driver her address.
When she eventually got home she was still shaking. What had possessed her, she wondered as she unlocked her front door. Why had she allowed James to kiss her, to touch her at all? As she stepped inside, the phone rang. She didn’t answer it and when it stopped she took the receiver off the hook. In all probability James would not ring her; she had made her position plain enough by leaving, but she was not taking any chances. James did not really desire her, she knew that…but something about him disturbed her, and she didn’t as yet know what it was.
She was appalled by how easily the image in her mind had become transferred to the man holding her in his arms. She knew quite well that it was just some trick of her imagination that had transformed James into her dream lover, but it made her face burn and her mind writhe in humiliated anguish. Unable to stop shaking she sat down in a chair and closed her eyes. It was a mistake: a jumble of pictures flashed past her eyes, memories of the sensations aroused by the caresses of the man in the portrait confused with the reality of James’s kiss.
Had her dream really been a subconscious urge to experience his love-making?
‘No!’ She screamed the denial out loud, her hands over her ears as though somehow she could block out her own soundless thoughts.
Too keyed up for sleep she tried to control her tormenting thoughts. She found some relief in trying to concentrate on the ideas she had been carrying round in her head for work on the house. Perhaps the artist she intended to commission to do the ceiling could incorporate a heron somewhere in the design; if so that would add an individual touch that was hers and hers alone. It pleased her to think of leaving her own individual stamp on the house. She made a note to contact him, and to arrange for him to visit the Hall. Biting her lip she put down her pen and stared pensively at the wall. Organising all the work needing to be done on the old Hall from London was going to prove more difficult than she had envisaged, and yet she needed her London contacts. It seemed as though she would be spending weeks driving to Yorkshire and back.
Concentrating, she tried to work out a timetable. A great deal depended on the surveyor’s report she had commissioned from the architect. He had told James that he believed the house was sound. Angrily Jenna threw down her pen. It had annoyed her that the architect had assumed that they were together, that James owned the Hall. But there was nothing she could do about it, and it was pointless working herself up into a lather. The next time he saw her—alone—no doubt he would realise the truth, she thought rather grimly, reapplying herself to her work.
* * *
‘There’s someone here to see you.’
Jenna frowned, looking up from her overflowing desk as Maggie walked into her office. She glanced at her diary. ‘I don’t have any appointments.’