Follow a Stranger

She half sobbed, but responded passionately, unable to

resist him. When he drew away again she was weak and

drowsy with pleasure. Eyes huge, she stared up at him as

he thrust a hand through his hair.

“Why the devil did you hold me off?” he demanded.

“Why did you refuse to talk to me the night before I left

Kianthos? I was almost out of my mind over you.”

“I can’t have an affair with you, Marc,” she whispered

through dry lips. “I love you—I admit it. I wish I didn’t.

But I’m just not the sort of girl who has casual affairs.”

He stared down at her. “Casual affairs? What the hell

do you mean? I want to marry you, you featherbrained

female!”

She began to tremble violently. “Marry me ... you ... but

... she said ...”

“She?” His voice was sharp. “Who said?”

“Marie-Louise,” she said miserably. “Oh, Marc, what

about her? She said ... everyone thought ...”

“I wouldn’t marry her if she was the last woman in the

world,” he said forcefully. “She is fun for a party, but

hardly the sort of girl one marries. She is all surface, like

a painted doll. In the rain the paint comes off. And with

Marie-Louise, the glitter comes off when one knows her

well enough. So what did she say to you, my silly

darling?”

“She implied that you only wanted to seduce me,” she

said softly, half dazed by her joy, “that you would throw

me away when you were tired of me. I couldn’t bear it. I

was so miserable.”

“And that’s why you wouldn’t let me in that night? You