The Threat of Love

What consummate gall. And I wouldn't mind betting that she'll complain to him about you, too.'

'I'm sure you're right,' agreed Gil. 'I told you, Miranda is spoilt and self-obsessed, she only ever sees things from her own point of view.'

'What did you ever see in her?' Caro asked him, her mouth twisting, and he gave her a wry, amused smile.

'She's beautiful. One can't have everything.'

'So you did have an affair with her?' Caro immediately bit back, her grey eyes fierce, and Gil observed her mockingly.

'Every time you talk about her, you sound like a jealous woman.'

She was appalled because it was true; she was jealous, bitterly, sickeningly jealous. First scarlet, then white to her hairline, she turned blindly to walk towards the Rolls. 'Will you take me home, please?'

'Not yet,' he said coolly. 'Colin may arrive any minute and for the sake of our concocted alibi I think you had better be here with me, don't you?'

She opened her mouth to protest, but he took her elbow and firmly led her back into the flat. Mrs Greybury was hovering in the hall. 'Can I get you both a nightcap, sir?'

'Thank you, but I think we both need a brandy, and I'll get them. You get off to bed, Mrs Greybury. Goodnight, and thank you for all your help.'

'Goodnight, sir. Goodnight, Miss Ramsgate.'

'Oh...goodnight,' Caro said, turning to give the other woman a shy smile. Mrs Greybury smiled back and then vanished into another part of the flat.

Gill wandered into the sitting-room Caro had glimpsed earlier. She reluctantly followed and stood looking around her at the cool green and white of the decor: tendrils of ivy on the wallpaper, floor-length green and white glazed chintz curtains, a green carpet and a white leather couch.

Gil poured them both a drink and turned to watch her slowl

y walk around the walls, looking at the paintings hanging there. She felt the back of her neck prickle, knowing he was watching her. Being alone with him was nerve-racking.

'Come and sit down,' he said in that deep dark voice, and she felt her heartbeat race out of all control.

'I'm admiring your taste in art,' she evaded, turning away to stare, without really seeing it, at a large, modern landscape hanging over the fireplace.

Gil came up behind her and she stiffened. He put a brandy glass into her hand. 'Drink this. It's been a rough evening.'

She hesitated, then obeyed, gasping at the heat of the spirits as they hit the back of her throat. The fumes seemed to mount to her brain, making her head swim. Gil swallowed his own brandy, put the empty glass down, took her glass away and put it down next to his own. Caro seemed rooted to the spot, standing on the hearth, her eyes fixed unseeingly on the painting.

Gil still stood behind her; she heard him breathing and her pulses went crazy. She wished he would go away, she wished he would...oh, do something! Not just stand there right next to her, almost touching her, tantalising her and driving her out of her mind.

At last she felt him move and held her breath, but he didn't walk away. He put a long finger on the nape of her neck and she shuddered with tension. The finger moved. Slowly. Down over her neck. Down her back. Very slowly. Caro closed her eyes, trembling. Gil moved closer, his body now touching hers. His lips lightly brushed her nape and she couldn't stop the audible intake of her breath, the gasp of shock and pleasure. He was killing her by inches, and she could not move, she was helpless to resist or fight the way she felt. I shouldn't have drunk that brandy, she thought. But even if she hadn't, would she have stopped him? The long finger stroked upwards from her waist; it stopped at the neckline of her dress and then she heard the zip un-peeling. That was when she should have stopped him, but she didn't because Gil's mouth followed the opening zip downwards, brushing light kisses along the widening gap and she was shaking, eyes enormous, pupils dilated with desire.

Gil's hands closed on her arms, his mouth burnt on her bare skin for a moment, while she trembled in his grip; then abruptly he whirled her round to face him and his head came down, his mouth seeking urgently.

Caro couldn't even think. She stood on tiptoe to meet his mouth, her lips parting with a sigh of hungry pleasure, her arms going round his neck. Gil enclosed her with one arm, his hand pressing into her back to hold her closer, while his other hand caressed her neck, pushed her dress down to bare her shoulders. Vaguely she became aware of her dress slipping to the floor. It didn't seem to matter; all that mattered was her need for his kiss. She pressed closer to Gil, holding his head in both hands, her fingers clenched in his thick hair.

He lifted her off the ground, his arms around her, still kissing her, and moved backwards to sink down on to the white couch. Caro opened her eyes then, pulled her head back, breathless and trembling. Gil held her on his lap, looking down into her grey eyes. He shrugged out of his jacket, tugged at his tie, pulled it off and let it fall to the carpet. She watched him undo his shirt, his lean body a pale tan colour, a rough wedge of dark hair growing up the centre of his muscled chest. Her mouth was dry. He watched her watching him; they stared at each other in a thick silence.

Caro had never watched a man undress before; her ears thundered with the sound of her own blood, her heart was thudding violently inside her ribcage, she almost felt he must be able to see it beating, through her skin, and he was staring down as if he could, staring at her half-naked body, the intimate probe of his dark eyes a sensuous excitement. He pushed down the straps of her slip and bra, bent and kissed her warm, bare breast, his lips and tongue seducing her, sending shivers of response through her.

'Touch me,' he whispered, and shyly at first, uncertainly, she reached out a hand to stroke, to caress, her fingertips so sensitised by then that when they first touched his bare skin it was like being given an electric shock; her whole body shuddered. His body was so cool and firm; she explored it, staring at him, and Gil watched her, his eyes half closed, his breathing thick. She began to moan; she had lost control; the common sense on which she prided herself snapped, and her senses took her into a new dimension of sensual intensity; she flung herself against him, her lips open against his shoulder, his neck, his chest, wordlessly pleading, begging, the hoarse cries of sexual need.

'Do you know what you're doing?' Gil said huskily, and she buried her face in him, unable to say the truth aloud. She knew, oh, she knew, and she wanted him too badly to care about what might happen afterwards. He shifted and pushed her down into the deep, yielding leather of the couch, his body rose above her, she saw through almost closed eyes the golden gleam of his naked skin as he shed the last of his clothes. Caro wriggled out of her own, keeping her eyes shut but knowing he watched her.

'I won't hurt you,' he said, brushing the hair back from her hot face. 'It is the first time for you, isn't it? The first time has to be good, you never forget it. I'll make it wonderful, Caro; something you won't want to forget.' He kissed her mouth, her throat, his lips gentle. His hands touched her breasts, her belly, her hips, brushing fire along her flesh, inciting her to a wild clamour of desire.

She moved against him with mounting urgency, moaning his name. 'Gil, Gil. Yes. Oh, yes...'

His hands were at her thighs, sliding between them, parting them, and his body followed, his bare skin smooth against her own for a moment before that first, tearing invasion. She gave a cry of pain, stiffening, and Gil murmured reassurance, 'Lie still, don't fight it, relax...' but the next move he made hurt even more and the heat drained out of her.