Forgotten Passion

The examination had been over in minutes. Mike had been entirely professional, and Lisa trusted him completely, but there had been a hard edge of anger to his voice when he asked abruptly when he had finished, ‘What the hell was Rorke thinking about? A man of his experience, surely he…’

‘Rorke doesn’t know,’ Lisa was quick to correct him, to defend her beloved Rorke from his disapproval, the words tumbling out of her mouth as she explained blushingly what had happened.

A little to her surprise Mike looked very grave.

‘Concussion is a very strange thing, Lisa,’ he said slowly when she had finished. ‘You must realise there’s no guarantee that Rorke will ever remember.’

‘But he’ll know anyway when I tell him,’ Lisa pointed out, to her mind logically. ‘And then there’s the baby…’

‘Yes.’

Mike seemed very abstracted, and the first frisson of fear had shivered over her.

‘Lisa, I don’t pretend to be any kind of psychiatrist, but it strikes me as odd that Rorke should choose to blot out such a very personal memory. I…’

‘Choose?’ Lisa had demanded, instantly picking him up. ‘But you just said that concussion…’

‘Yes, I know what I said,’ Mike agree, ‘but I think there’s more to it than that. I think you must tell Rorke straight away about what happened, and about the baby. Lisa, try to understand. Rorke’s been away one hell of a lot just recently, hasn’t he?’ He had given her a direct look. ‘Rorke’s a man in his late twenties, Lisa, and you’re a girl of seventeen. He loves you, he’s going to marry you, and so it follows like night follows day that he wants you—and probably very badly. What I’m trying to tell you is that he’s probably been keeping away from you deliberately, restraining himself because… Oh, hell!’ he broke off angrily.

‘But there’s no need for him to keep me at a distance, we’ve already made love,’ Lisa had pointed out, frowning.

‘Exactly,’ Mike had agreed. ‘And what do you think it’s going to do to him to discover that he’s already violated the innocence he’s trying so damned hard to protect. No wonder he can’t remember—He’s a very complex character Lisa, and at a guess I’d say he probably feels very conscious of the age gap between you. You’re still a child; he’s been an elder-brother, protector figure to you for so long that you can’t blame him if he finds it difficult to make the adjustment from brother to lover, however much he wants you.’

‘You mean he won’t believe me?’ Lisa had whispered, her throat dry with tension and fear.

‘Oh, I’m not saying that,’ Mike had been quick to comfort her. ‘Of course he’ll believe you, but my guess is that he won’t like himself much—at least for a while. He’s a tough character, Lisa, with a will as strong as steel, and something tells me he’s going to find it hard to forgive himself this.’

He had seen the tears forming in her eyes and had leaned forward to comfort her, holding her gently against his shoulder, and that had been when Rorke had walked in. Lisa had seen him first, over Mike’s shoulder, stubble darkening his jaw, his eyes smouldering with an emotion she couldn’t define.

She had left with him, tense and on edge, dreading having to tell him about the baby, wondering how on earth she was to find the right words.

To make matters worse Helen had been at the house when they got back. She had travelled over from St Lucia with Rorke, and Lisa had felt red-hot jealousy claw at her when Helen mentioned that they had spent a couple of days together on St Lucia. She was doing it deliberately to make her jealous, Lisa told herself stoutly. She knew that Rorke had been working. She only had to look at Rorke’s tired features to know that. But that didn’t stop the pain, nor the ache of doubt that still lingered from her talk with Mike.

Later that night she had heard someone outside her door. Thinking it might be Rorke, she had sat up excitedly, her face eager, but it had been Helen who stepped through the door, Helen, her face alight with triumph, her voice a low purr as she said venomously, ‘Expecting Rorke? My dear, if you had that sort of relationship with him he would hardly be marrying you, would he? Rorke is a

realist first and last. He’s marrying you because he wants you and he can’t get you any other way. Also you’re the sort of wife his father approves of, but don’t deceive yourself that he loves you, Lisa. Rorke loves me, and he’ll come back to me when he’s grown tired of making love to a child. Your innocence might be a challenge now, but…’

Unable to bear the other woman’s mockery, Lisa had burst out, ‘What makes you think that Rorke and I aren’t already lovers?’

Helen’s smile had been openly derisive. ‘If you are, it can’t have been very successful, otherwise why would Rorke have come to St Lucia—to me, Lisa?’

She could still remember the pain of it now, the desire to scream that Helen was lying, but she hadn’t been able to, and instead it had been Helen who had the last word, saying spitefully, ‘A final word of warning, my dear—Rorke doesn’t like sharing, and if you’re wise you’ll keep your… friendship… with our handsome young doctor a secret from him.’

Helen had stayed for two days, monopolising Rorke, excluding Lisa from everything they did together. Plans for the wedding went ahead, and Lisa was aware of Leigh watching her with concern in his eyes as she had tried to hide her despair and misery from everyone, longing only for the opportunity to talk to Rorke, to tell him about the night on board Lady and the repercussions from it, but he was strangely elusive. It was almost as though he didn’t want to talk to her.

The night Helen left Lisa waited until the others had gone to bed and then followed Rorke to his room. She had knocked and then entered without waiting for him to call out. He had been standing in the middle of the room when she opened the door, his shirt already off, moonlight silvering the streamlined muscles of his torso. Her body had clenched in unwilling excitement, her mouth unbearably dry as she looked at him.

His heavy-lidded glance swept over her, and in sudden heated urgency Lisa murmured his name, closing her eyes as she swayed towards him, feeling the hard band of his arms tightening round her as he swore under his breath, and then her cheek was against the cool skin of his shoulder, and she was breathing in the warm male scent of his body.

‘Lisa, what is it?’ she heard him demand above her, and her whole body started to tremble, her pulses leaping in response to the raw thread of sensuality running through his words.

‘Lisa, can’t you feel what you’re doing to me?’ Rorke muttered thickly against her hair.

‘I want to talk to you.’ There, the words were out, but Rorke ignored them, laughing savagely, as he released her and snapped on the light.

‘Not tonight you don’t, Lisa. Go to bed,’ he told her, his voice suddenly harsh, ‘before I forget all the promises I’ve made myself and take you to mine. Go, Lisa,’ he had told her harshly, and because of what she had read in his face she had fled, tears streaming down her face as she curled up in her own cold bed, wondering if Helen had been right and Rorke was simply marrying her because he wanted her physically.

Too bemused and confused to rationalise her thoughts, she had at last fallen asleep, wishing childishly that somehow during the night all would be made well and when she woke up all the dark clouds would have vanished.