Follow a Stranger

pause.

Trembling, she turned them palm up, and heard his

breath drawn in explosively. “Good God!” he exclaimed.

They were scraped and bloody, one deep gash at the base

of her thumb, grass stains on the raw fingers.

“I wanted to see that Peter was comfortable,” she

muttered nervously.

“And I suppose he had you working with him up there?”

he asked tautly. “Digging and scraping like a mole all day?

Why didn’t he see you safely down to the car? He must

realise how dangerous that climb can be—or doesn’t he

care?”

“He was very busy,” she said. “If I’d asked him to come

with me he would have done, but I didn’t ask ...”

“He’s a selfish, irresponsible idiot!” Marc commented

savagely. “No decent man would let his woman make a

climb like that!”

“I’m not his woman,” she snapped back, “I’m his fiancée.

But the relationship is one of shared independence, not

slavery! He’s not a cave man, and I’m not in need of

protection.”

His grey eyes stormed at her furiously, the handsome

features suddenly rigid and dangerous. “You make love

sound like mild friendship. Is that all there is between you

two? That isn’t love as I know it!”

Something twisted inside her, she lowered her eyes. “I’m

sure it isn’t,” she said in a brittle voice.

His hands grabbed her shoulders, the curled fingers

biting into her. For a second she was frozen with panic,

then he released her with a thickly drawn breath, turned,