Sharon Kendrick Collection. Sharon Kendrick

nothing else in the world seemed to matter.

      They just stood like that for ages. After a while he took her hand and brought it to his lips and kissed the palm slowly, lingeringly, a question narrowing his darkened eyes. And Triss must have answered it mutely, for he silently led her down the corridor to what was obviously his room.

      She made no protest as he quietly closed the door behind them. He did not put the light on, but there was light enough from the moon, and he reached out his hand and moved it slowly down the side of her face, like a blind man reading his way by touch alone.

      Her eyes were wide with her own question as he took her once again into his arms and stared down at her in a way which made her begin to quiver helplessly.

      ‘Cormack,’ she whispered. ‘Should we be doing this?’

      ‘I can’t not do it,’ he answered simply. ‘Unless you tell me to.’

      She shook her head. ‘That isn’t fair!’ she protested. ‘You know I can’t do that.’

      ‘Well, then.’ He smiled, but it was a smile tinged with sadness as he drew her down onto the bed and began to kiss her with all the restrained and sensual exploration that she remembered from the very first time he had made love to her.

      Except that this time she knew what to expect, knew that the act of lovemaking itself would surpass all her wildest dreams, and she returned his kiss willingly, eagerly, until she heard the deep sigh of pleasure which meant that he was finding restraint very difficult indeed.

      His hands were actually trembling as they peeled the shirt from her body, and she lay naked and bathed in silver moonlight as she watched him kick off his jeans, doing her best not to squirm with impatience until he was back beside her on the bed.

      Just before he entered her he told her that he loved her, but Triss scarcely heard him—her body was crying out with so much need for the fusion with his.

      It was quite unlike any other time they had been intimate together, and Triss was moved beyond words by the surprisingly slow, erotic coupling which took her to unimagined heights. Cormack was more tender than she had ever known him, and she felt as though he was piercing the very heart of her as her kiss-muffled cries echoed softly around the room.

      And I love him too, she thought. Still. More than I have allowed myself to admit. I must tell him...

      But in the end she told him nothing—not straight after they had made love, anyway. She was too dazed. Too elated. Too smugly complacent as she lay tangled with him amid the rumpled sheets and contemplated a future which was suddenly bright—a future which included Cormack.

      They were drifting in and out of an easy, warm sleep, when somewhere in the distance Triss heard the ringing of a telephone which went on and on and on. Oh, why doesn’t somebody answer it? she wondered half impatiently, and then the ringing stopped abruptly.

      Somebody had, she thought with relief.

      Through the mists of sleep she heard a rapping on the bedroom door, and Cormack stirred beside her, his finger and thumb moving instinctively to tantalise her nipple.

      ‘Oh,’ she sighed, and shifted her body towards his, and he gave a low laugh as he ran his hand possessively over her bottom.

      ‘Cor-mack!’ yelled a voice from outside the door. ‘Phone!’

      ‘Go away!’ growled Cormack as he let his mouth drift lazily over Triss’s breast. ‘I’m busy!’

      ‘It’s urgent!’ persisted the voice. ‘It’s Helga!’

      Triss felt him freeze, and then he sat up. And the expression in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. For written in their lapis lazuli depths she could read despair. And guilt.

      And Triss knew that whoever Helga was—Cormack was involved with her.

      He didn’t say a word to her as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and began pulling on his jeans. He didn’t have to, for self-condemnation had etched an unbearable strain on his features.

      By the door he paused, turned round and said, in a voice of almost unendurable tension, ‘Triss?’

      But she shook her head, clapped her hands fiercely over her ears like a child and buried her face in the pillow.

      And only when she heard the door click behind him did she sit up, with tears streaming down her cheeks, and begin to plan her escape.

       CHAPTER NINE

      TRISS closed her eyes and forced the memories to recede, and when she opened them again she was momentarily disconcerted to find herself sitting in her cosy bleached-oak kitchen at St Fiacre’s—miles and months away from snowy Brighton—with Cormack watching her thoughtfully.

      ‘We never resolved that night together, did we, Triss?’

      She swallowed the last of her wine. ‘What’s to resolve?’

      ‘Plenty.’

      ‘No!’ She refilled her glass and saw him frown.

      ‘You should eat something,’ he observed.

      ‘Go to hell, Cormack Casey! When I need a nanny I’ll look for one—and I certainly won’t choose a philandering—’

      ‘Triss! For God’s sake, stop all this!’

      ‘Give me one good reason why I should!’ she yelled.

      ‘Simon,’ he answered simply.

      ‘That isn’t fair,’ she said bitterly. ‘That’s emotional blackmail!’

      He gave her a long, steady look. ‘Don’t talk to me about emotional blackmail, Triss,’ he said quietly. ‘Because in those particular stakes you played the trump card by keeping my son a secret from me. If that isn’t emotional blackmail, then I don’t know what is.’

      ‘Yes, I did!’ she declared. ‘And if you want to know why I did it then I’ll tell you! I did it because it made me feel good. I enjoyed the planning of it and the thought of it! I enjoyed carrying the secret around with me, if you must know!’

      And it had only stopped being enjoyable when she had been confronted with Cormack again, and had realised the enormity of her actions in keeping his own flesh and blood hidden from him. And now, instead of feeling triumphant about her act of revenge, she felt mean and low and nasty.

      But she was not going to tell him that. Why should she? Telling him would only reveal her dangerous vulnerability where he was concerned. And besides, he had shown very little in the way of considerate feelings towards her.

      ‘And all because of Helga?’ he asked sadly.

      ‘Don’t you dare make it sound as though Helga was just some casual acquaintance of yours! You were having an affair with her, weren’t you?’

      ‘I had been—’

      ‘So what was she doing ringing you up at six in the morning on New Year’s Day? That does not sound like the behaviour of an ex-lover to me.’

      Cormack sighed. ‘Would you give me the opportunity to explain?’

      Triss bit her lip—hard. Anything to stop that threatening and give-away wobble in her voice from developing. ‘Is there any point?’ She scowled.

      ‘I thought that we’d already decided that, yes, for Simon’s sake, of course there is a point.’ His eyes narrowed as they took in the fact that she was perched tensely on the very edge of one of the high stools by the breakfast bar. ‘You don’t look comfortable there, Triss.’

      ‘I’m not.’

      ‘Then why don’t we take our wine into the sitting room? Have you any cheese?’

      Triss nodded.