Fire Beneath the Ice

Lydia nodded weakly. This was all too much. Wolf here in her small home, acting as though he had always been here. Her heart jumped into her mouth.

Acting as though he liked being here.

It was some ten minutes later before she heard his footsteps on the stairs and she had no premonition of what was coming. She turned as he entered the room and then shrank back against the wall as she saw his face.

"Why, Lydia?" His voice was a low snarl and the dark colour burning the high cheekbones spoke of furious, contained rage.

"Why the fairy-tale?"

"What?" And then she realised, far, far too late, what Hannah had innocently revealed to the big, powerful man in front of her.

"He's dead, isn't he? He's been dead years." His voice was raw and brutal and savage.

"I've suffered the torments of the damned for weeks, called myself every kind of swine for my baser urges regarding you, and all the _time..." He was breathing hard and deep.

"I was burning up inside for days when you first came to work for me, and that day in the lift..."

He shook his head angrily.

"I loathed myself afterwards, couldn't believe I'd fallen so hard, and then when I found out he'd left you, that there was a chance you were free--' " I wanted to explain," she said desperately.

"I tried--' " But not too hard. “The icy, cynical voice was scathing.

"It gave you some sort of kick, did it? To see me making a total fool of myself?"

"It wasn't like that--' " Who else knows? “He glared at her furiously.

"Mike, of course, he'd just love this. And the typing-pool? And the cleaners?"

"No, believe me. Wolf, it's not like that. I didn't try to make you look a fool--' “But you succeeded. “His voice was as hard as steel, the man who had been in the room ten minutes before now seeming a figment of her imagination.

"For the first time in years I wanted to be with someone because of who they were, or who I thought they were," he finished cut tingly

"And however I tried to fight it the feeling got stronger and stronger. But you were so naive, so pure, so untouchable." The harsh bark didn't resemble a laugh in any way.

"Oh, you're good, baby, I have to give you that. You're the best." He raked his hand through his hair wildly, his eyes narrowed slits of cold ice. This was worse than anything she could have imagined. She stared at him with great bruised eyes as he verbally ripped her apart.

"How long was the charade going to continue?" he asked icily.

"I knew I should have followed my head and not my heart after I'd seen you with Mike that day. It was all too pat, too convenient. And I heard _him warning you to keep quiet! Hell, I don't believe all this! You dared to lecture me on my lifestyle when all the time--' “It wasn't like that.

You're making it sound as if I planned it all," she protested desperately.

"Oh, and it just happened?" he asked bitterly.

"You told me a pack of lies, Lydia, admit it."

"But--' " Admit it," he said ruthlessly.

"Yes, I lied." She stared at him wildly, her eyes hunted.

"But Mike is nothing to do with this, I hardly know him. I lied to get the job and it didn't seem important at first. Not at first--' “And later? “he asked grimly.

>

"Later..." Her voice trailed away. How could she explain later? How could she tell him that she had used her supposed husband as a defence against her own feelings for him and the attraction "she knew he felt for her, albeit only physical? That she: hadn't dared to let him know she was free because she would have been unable to resist him, but that in her case it wouldn't have just been a giving of her body. She would have given her mind, her soul, everything. She loved him. But he would have used her and walked away. He would.

"I knew you just wanted a brief affair," she said bleakly.