Escape from Desire

The surface of the pond was marred only by the ripples caused by the cascade of water frothing over a high fall of rocks and down into the natural basin. Tamara paused by the water’s edge, and then, acting on some driving instinct that would not be denied, with shaking fingers she unclipped and removed her brief bra and panties, firmly ignoring an inner voice, very reminiscent of Aunt Lilian, which exclaimed in frigid disapproval against what she was doing.

Before she could give in to second thoughts she stepped into the water, marvelling at the silky warmth of it against her naked skin.

Aunt Lilian and the repressions she had learned from her were forgotten as Tamara gave herself up to the pleasure of the clean water against her bare flesh; a touch so gentle that it could almost be that of a lover. Blushing a little at the wayward thoughts pulsing through her, she turned over to float luxuriously on her back, closing her eyes against the intense glare of the sun, feelings which she had suppressed instinctively all through her growing years, breaking the bonds of prudery and fear as instilled by her aunt to make her aware for the first time in her life of the sensuality of her own body, so perfectly formed by nature to give—and receive—pleasure.

‘Tamara!’

The word sliced through the peaceful seclusion of her surroundings, shattering her feeling of wellbeing. She turned over, striking out for the shore, but it was too late; she had a brief impression of a lean, tanned blue-jeaned figure standing by the edge of the pool, and then the figure jack-knifed in a perfect dive, swimming powerfully towards her, droplets of water glistening on the s

atin-brown skin as she watched bewitched and entranced until she realised that Zach’s expression was that of an extremely angry man, something which was borne out by the way he grasped her wrist, jerking her against him while he trod water.

‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ he grated in a voice made roughly husky by the physical exercise. ‘What was the last thing I said to you yesterday?’

Too late Tamara remembered him warning her not to go anywhere alone.

‘It was quite safe,’ she defended. ‘I wanted to swim … I couldn’t last night because you were there.’

‘So this morning you risk being discovered by our guerrilla friends instead? What is it with you?’ he demanded savagely. ‘Are you deliberately goading me, or just plain stupid?’

It was too late to explain that he had misunderstood her. Her body was betrayingly conscious of the proximity of his, her soft skin rubbed by the soaking denim clinging to powerfully muscled thighs.

‘Neither,’ she retorted, suddenly conscious of her own nudity and the menace which could have lurked unseen in the forest. ‘I just wanted to swim—alone.’

At another time his swearing would have made her blush, but she ignored it, desperately trying to control the quivering of her body, a combination of shock and desire, rendering her almost completely helpless, dependent on the firm grip of the brown fingers round her wrists for support.

‘Well, now you’ve had it,’ Zach told her crisply, ‘and it’s time we made a start. We can’t afford to waste any time.’ As though he sensed her reluctance to follow him, he frowned, studying her downbent head, her fair hair trailing on the water like a mediaeval Venus.

‘Something wrong?’ he enquired dulcetly, but Tamara wasn’t fooled. He was a man of iron clothed in tempered steel, and nothing less than a laser beam could penetrate that tough outer casing.

‘You go on and I’ll follow you,’ she stammered. ‘I left my clothes on the rocks …’

‘You don’t say!’ He was openly mocking her now, his lambent green gaze appraising the shadowy white form beneath the water.

‘Let’s get one thing straight.’ The mockery was despatched to be replaced with curt contempt. ‘I don’t care what teasing games you play with your fiancé, just don’t try them out with me. I’ve already told you, I’m no green boy driven to insatiable lust by the sight of a woman’s body. Tease me, Tamara, and you may very well find you get more than you bargained for!’

‘I wasn’t teasing!’ Anger overcame caution, her grey eyes almost violet with the force of her pent-up emotions, small fists beating uselessly at his hard chest. How dared he imply that she had deliberately tried to tease him?

‘If you knew as much as you claim to know about women,’ she continued disdainfully, seeing the disbelieving look in his eyes, ‘you’d know that I’m not the teasing sort.’

To her chagrin he laughed. ‘Honey, you’re all that sort,’ he claimed arrogantly. ‘But I’m not going to waste time arguing with you.’

Before she could stop him, he was lifting her from the protection of the pool, carrying her in his arms as he strode in the direction of the poolside, the water covering them both to their shoulder blades, forcing Tamara to cling on to his neck, locking her fingers behind it in the thick darkness of his hair.

He didn’t stop until they reached the clearing where they had spent the night, where she was dumped unceremoniously on her sleeping bag, humiliatingly conscious of her naked body, completely revealed to his impassive gaze. The water dripped from his jeans, forming little puddles at his feet, the damp fabric pulling tautly over the powerfully masculine body.

Her mouth dry, Tamara dragged her eyes away, overcome by the same sensation of weakness she had experienced the previous evening. She supposed that it was a measure of Zach’s concern for her safety that he had plunged into the pool almost fully clad, but remembering his expression when he reached her, she was forced to the conclusion that anger and not compassion had motivated the impulsive action.

She stood up, reaching for her spare top. She could wear it when she went to retrieve the rest of her clothes. Behind her she heard Zach curse and the sound of a zip sliding downwards. When she turned he had removed the soaking jeans and was standing beside his sleeping bag clad only in a pair of black briefs. Tamara touched dry lips with the tip of her tongue, telling herself that she had seen men wearing just as little on the beach, but it didn’t help, and no amount of willpower seemed to be able to stop the tremors shivering through her.

‘Tamara!’

She seemed to have a genius for making Zach say her name in that particular tone.

‘What’s the matter? Don’t you feel well?’ He was standing next to her, cool fingers touching her skin, his brows drawn together in a frown as he fired a volley of questions at her.

‘Your skin feels hot, but not enough for a fever. Have you had stomach-ache? Been sick?’ His fingers had left her forehead to probe the soft swell of her stomach.

‘I’m fine, thank you.’