Burning with Passion

‘I’ve never accepted injustice easily,’ Caitlin stated, her voice trembling even though she had rehearsed the words a hundred times.

His mouth compressed. His eyes were those of a judge who had already passed sentence on a proven traitor, hard, contemptuous of any protest. He stared at her with an intensity designed to reduce her to a quivering wreck.

It had the opposite effect. A surge of adrenalin poured strength into her limbs. Her mind focused very clearly on her purpose. She stared back in unwavering challenge, armoured with her innocence.

‘May I remind you...you resigned yesterday?’ he said with deadly intent.

‘Yes, and I gave you formal notification of it in a letter. You left the letter on my desk...’ she pointed to it ‘...for anyone to walk in and see.’

She took a deep breath and plunged on. ‘I didn’t tell Michael Crawley I’d resigned. You didn’t tell Michael Crawley I’d resigned. Yet he knew, David. His act last night was based on the fac

t that I’d resigned.’

‘Act?’ he savagely mocked.

Her chin lifted. ‘I don’t intend to be the scapegoat for someone on your staff, who also happens to be in Michael Crawley’s pocket.’

‘Why should I believe it’s anyone else but you, Caitlin?’

‘Because I’m here, David. Fighting on your side. And if you throw me out, Crawley will have won what he wanted to win when he sent the roses and other gifts to stir trouble between us and distract concentration from the meeting with the Germans.’ She paused, then added, ‘I did my best to get that business deal back for you, David. You know I did.’

He weighed her argument and found it wanting. ‘No one on the staff knew we were lovers, Caitlin. Your suggestion of a mole feeding Crawley information doesn’t quite cover that,’ he said cynically.

‘It doesn’t have to. Crawley has had you under surveillance. He boasted of it after you left last night. He knows what nights you spent at my apartment and precisely what time you left in the morning.’

‘Why should I think that information didn’t come from you?’ he demanded tersely.

‘You’ve never told me what you did after you left me in the morning, David,’ she shot at him, determined to hold his attention.

‘I went home, of course,’ he snapped.

‘You breakfast with your mother. Every morning. Without fail. And Crawley intends to use your mother against you. I was a bonus weapon to needle you. Your mother is his big gun.’

He froze. Total immobility. It was as though she had turned him to stone with her last words. His eyes went completely blank, their focus turned inward to something so critical or momentous that it obliterated all consciousness of anything else.

Caitlin’s nerve-endings jangled with tension. What could produce such a reaction in him? What was the mystery about his mother? What power over him did it give Michael Crawley?

She saw David’s hands clench. She sensed the fierce aggression surging through him. Then very slowly they unclenched. Control re-established. His eyes refocused on her, burning with the need to know.

‘How does Crawley intend to use my mother?’ His voice was flat, unemotional.

‘I don’t know, David,’ Caitlin answered quietly. ‘He laughed about it. He said he intended to break you psychologically and your mother was the key. He was gloating. It made me sick. The man is a sadist, David. He enjoys hurting others.’

He winced and looked away, but not before Caitlin saw the sickness he felt. He shook his head as though he couldn’t believe, didn’t want to believe what she had told him. Yet when he faced her again there was pained acceptance in his eyes.

‘Thank you for sticking by me, Caitlin.’ His voice was low and strained. ‘God knows I’ve given you no reason to.’

‘You helped me yesterday.’

And I love you.

Maybe the silent message showed in her eyes. He looked discomforted. Yesterday he had wanted to keep her with him, but he hadn’t trusted her when put to the test. It put him in the wrong. Badly in the wrong.

‘Did everything finish up right last night?’ he asked.

‘Very much so.’ A smile fleetingly touched her lips at the memory of her mother and father dancing and singing together. ‘You did a great job.’

David’s mouth curled in self-mockery. ‘You could say Crawley taught me a lesson.’ His eyes wandered over her, not with desire, more as though he was seeing her anew. When he lifted his gaze to hers, his expression reflected some inner torment. ‘I should have given you the roses.’