Passion's Prey Read online

  'My darling.' Holding her away from him, he tilted her face up.

  When she murmured protestingly, putting up a hand to hide her swollen eyes and tearblotched cheeks, he gently pulled it away. So she had to look up into his face, and at his expression her heart turned right over, then began pounding against her ribs.

  'My darling,' he gave her an odd little smile, 'it doesn't matter about the cake—no.' His finger, laid across her lips, silenced the snuffled protest. 'You can make my wedding-cake instead.'

  As Petra stared up at him, speechless and still quivering from the emotion which had racked her, he went on, 'Or, rather— our wedding-cake. Well, say something—please.'

  'You mean—are you—is this a proposal?' Her green eyes were almost swallowing the rest of her features.

  He pulled a rueful face. 'Not a very good one, I'm afraid. I haven't had much practice at it. But—will you marry me?' His voice was tense; this was a new, uncertain Jared, and it made her heart-strings twist.

  'But you don't love me,' she whispered.

  His fingers tightened momentarily on her arms, then he released her. 'Look, for God's sake, can I have some of that whiskey?'

  He jerked his head at the bottle, which still stood on the table.

  'I'm sorry. Of course.' Her brain reeling, she busied herself getting a glass. 'Help yourself.'

  'Thanks.' He hooked out a chair with his foot, dropped into it and poured himself a large drink.

  'I—er—think I've got some soda,' she said tentatively.

  'No, thanks.' He took a long gulp, then pulled out another chair. 'Sit there.'

  When she obeyed he reached for her hand, raised it to his lips, then gently set it down again.

  'Petra,' he was gazing down into the amber depths of his glass, 'you must believe me. I do love you. Though, after the way I've treated you, I've forfeited forever the right to tell you so. I can only—' he hesitated '—I can only ask you to forgive me.'

  'Jared . . . ' she bit painfully on her lip, her heart swelling with love for this proud man, humbling himself in front of her ' . . . there's nothing to forgive.'

  'But there is—even if it took a force-ten gale finally to get it into my thick head that—'

  When he stopped abruptly she prompted, 'That?'

  '—that I can't live without you.' A ghost of a wry smile. 'I recommend a few minutes staring eternity in the face—it's a great way to sort out your priorities.' He broke off again, then, 'You do still love me, don't you?'

  'You know that,' she said quietly. 'I've never stopped loving you—and I never will.'

  'And you will marry me?'

  She nodded, too overflowing with emotion to trust her voice.

  'Oh, my l o v e ... ' Jared's lips compressed ' . . . I don't deserve you.'

  Pushing back his chair, he pulled her to her feet and took her in his arms again, nuzzling her bright hair with his cheek. As she clasped her arms round him she closed her eyes, the happiness glowing within her. It was as though she had walked through a door, out of a bitter, icy winter's night, into the warmth and light of a summer's day.

  'Have you told Simon?' Jared broke a long silence.

  'That I was breaking off our engagement?' She pulled away from him slightly, and gave a wry smile. 'Actually, he rang me yesterday to tell me he's in love.'

  Jared gave a mirthless laugh. 'He's only just found that out?'

  'But not with me. He's fallen headlong for the daughter of the school bursar.'

  'What?'

  'Yes. They're an old army family, apparently. He's taking her down to Sidmouth tomorrow to meet his mother.'

  'Old army family, eh? Well, I'm sure she'll approve.'

  'Yes, I rather think she will.'

  But as she smiled faintly at him he exclaimed savagely, 'That Polruan—I always knew he was a bloody fool! To throw away a prize like you, for a —'

  'No, don't say that—she sounds a lovely girl. And he only thought he loved me, just as I—'

  She broke off, then went on quickly, 'Anyway, I sent back his ring this morning. That's when I found out you were leaving.'

  She looked up at him directly and he grimaced. 'Running away, you mean? Yes, I was, my sweet. All my life I've been so sure I couldn't settle down with one woman—my gypsy blood, I think you called it. I told myself that no woman would ever snare me, and even yesterday I managed to convince myself you weren't going to be the exception. I had to run from you when you were sixteen, and I suppose I've kept running ever since.'

  'But you went away because of Mrs Kendrick. Her husband found out and—'

  'Iris Kendrick?' He looked astonished. 'You don't mean to tell me you believed that story?'

  'The whole village did.'

  'Well, well.' He laughed softly but, when he saw her expression, sobered instantly. 'I know there were rumours, but there was nothing in them—nothing at all, I swear it. Oh, I felt sorry for Iris with that bastard of a husband—even lent her a shoulder to cry on—but that was as far as it went, I promise you. Married women have never been my style.'

  He broke off and gave her a rather strained smile. 'The truth was rather different—but it wouldn't have done much for my macho image, would it, to have people know I was scared to death of an adolescent girl?'

  'You mean . . . ?' she began slowly.

  He looked down at his thumb, softly stroking across the back of her slim hand. 'I went away, Petra, because when you were sixteen you lay in my arms and told me you loved me. You offered me yourself—the whole world—and I couldn't handle it. You frightened me out of my wits, so I ran away,' he wound up bleakly.

  'Oh, Jared.' Blinking back the tears, she gave him a tremulous smile. There was a slight sound behind them, and they both swung round to see Sam, yawning and stretching in the doorway.

  'Hi, Sam,' Jared said conversationally, and the big cat deigned to glance briefly in his direction, before stalking across to his blue bowl of milk.

  Jared and Petra exchanged looks. 'I think you'd better be the one to break the happy news to him,' he remarked. 'I don't somehow fancy that job.'

  'Oh, I'm sure he'll be all right —'

  'Just so long as I keep up the liver pate and chicken fillet, you mean? But he'll have to learn one thing.'

  'What's that?'

  'That there's room for only one male in your bed from now on, and it isn't him.' As she blushed he flashed her a wicked smile, then went on casually, 'But maybe he can console himself with a new hunting ground.'

  'New hunting ground?'

  'The orchard at the Old Manor House.'

  'The Old Manor? But I don't see—'

  'I bumped into Peter Eames a couple of days ago—seems he's thinking of putting it on the market and moving into something smaller. So—could Sam be happy there, do you think? He would be, I'm sure, if you were.'

  'Yes, but—' The speed of events was taking her breath away.

  'I know you love this place, but for myself I prefer a house where I don't risk concussing myself every time I wall under that door beam there.'

  'But your home's in California.'

  'No, my darling. My home is when you are from now on. I know how you love Cornwall, and it's the same with me. I didn't realise how much, till I came back and felt its magic. I suppose it's in my genes.' He pulled a face. 'Just think of it—half-Celtic, half-gypsy. Quite a potent combination, wouldn't you say?'

  'Very potent.' She gave him a slanting smile, and his grip tightened.

  'Don't look at me like that, or I'll forget I'm feeling shattered. No,' as she stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips along his hard jaw. 'That's settled, then. I'll run down and see Peter later— make him an offer he can't say no to. If you agree, that is?'

  She gave a shaken laugh. 'Do you always work this fast?'

  'Not always, no.' For a moment his eyes were sombre. 'Sometimes it takes years to see what I want out of life. And what I want and need is you, my darling. Living at the manor, our children playing in that lovely gar
den, paddling in the little stream.'

  'Oh, my lover,' she whispered.

  'Of course, I'll hang on to my flat in LA—for a while, at least. In fact, I'll have to go back there soon for an editorial meeting. Look up old friends.'

  'Oh.' She had to say it. 'Will Kate be there?'

  'Naturally,' he replied matter of factly, but then, 'My darling, you got that wrong too, you know.' 'Did I?'

  'Yes, she was over here on business—strictly business. She's the second unit director of the film company and she came across to scout out possible locations.'

  'I see,' she said slowly.

  'And in case you're wondering, being the perfect host, I gave up my bed to her, while I slept in the spare room.'

  'But you let me believe—'

  'I know—but I was angry with you, the way you were so quick to think the worst. I just hoped that you'd be consumed by jealousy, the way I was with that fiance of yours.'

  'I think you might have succeeded there,' she said ruefully.

  'Good.' He gave a smug smile, then, lifting her hands, softly kissed the backs of both. 'But, I promise, you'll never have reason to be jealous again. And, anyway, you can always come with me to LA—and to my place in Jamaica, of course.' A teasing grin. 'I reckon it would be ideal for a February honeymoon, don't you?'

  'But it's almost the middle of February now,' she protested, then, 'Yes, please.'

  'We'll keep the manor as our main base, though. You, running Petronella's Cakes—burnt whiskey cakes a speciality. Ouch!' as she aimed a kick at his shin. 'Me, writing my latest blockbuster in that little room that overlooks the orchard.'

  'You're going to write—books, I mean?'

  He nodded. 'I'm tired of temperamental authors griping over every improvement I make to their deathless prose. So when I've dealt with Passion—and, talking of p a s s i o n ... ' he looked at her from beneath those devastating black lashes ' . . . I need—'

  You need a hot bath,' she said firmly.

  Or, better still, a hot Jacuzzi.' He drained his whiskey, then caught hold of her hand. 'You can turn the taps on for me.'

  'We'll see,' she replied demurely. 'You go on while I get the ointment for your shoulder.'

  When she followed him next door she found that he was by the kitchen table, bending over his computer.

  'For heaven's sake, go and have your bath,' she scolded. 'That sweater's really damp.'

  She glanced at the words on the screen, then gave a little gasp.

  Jared laughed. 'Yeah, a bit steamy, isn't it? But my blockbuster will be even better. The only problem is, I think maybe I need to put in a little research if I'm going to get those torrid lovescenes just right.'

  She blushed even deeper. 'Just go upstairs, will you?'

  'For lesson number one?'

  'No' But she giggled. 'Make sure you're in that bath before I come up . . . '

  'Is that all right?' As Jared lay back in the foaming water she ran her fingers one last time across his shoulder.

  'Mmm. Much better, thanks. I must have done it when —'

  'No,' she broke in quickly. 'Don't think about the storm any more.'

  'I suppose I shouldn't, but it's not that easy.'

  Petra carefully screwed the top on the ointment, then stood up. 'Looks as if I'll just have to take your mind off it, then.'

  Very deliberately she pulled off her sweater, then put her hand to her jeans zip.

  'Hey—what do you think you're doing?' he growled.

  'But you said I ought to try a whirlpool bath some time,' she said innocently, and he gave a rumbling laugh.

  Aware of Jared's eyes on her, warm with love and desire, and glorying in the femininity of her body, she quickly discarded her other garments, then slid into the warm, bubbling water, facing him.

  'Come here,' he said unsteadily, and as he held out her arms to her she went into his embrace.

  'You know . . . ' his lips were resting against the pulse of her temple ' . . . we've both had something to learn these last few weeks, you and I. You've learned—'

  'That passion and sensuality are a part of me to be enjoyed—and not to be afraid of,' she completed.

  'And I've had to learn far more than that—that those things aren't enough. They need to go hand in hand with love.'

  'Mmm.' with a contented little sigh she snuggled herself into his body.

  'Of course, I should have learnt that long ago from poor Tristan and Iseult.'

  'But I thought that, for them, once the magic passion faded it was all over.'

  'No. I never did finish their story—maybe because it didn't suit me to.' Half absently he scooped some of the scented foam from her creamy breast and blew it away. 'You remember how, after they'd confessed, Tristan was sent into exile—to Brittany—while Iseult stayed with King Mark?'

  'Yes.'

  'Well, Tristan married someone else at last, but he never forgot Iseult, and when he was mortally wounded in battle he sent for her. She came at once, because she too had never forgotten her first love, and took him in her arms. Then, as he died, her heart broke and she died too.'

  'Oh.' Tears pricked Petra's eyes. 'What a waste of their lives—loving each other but being kept apart.'

  'But it won't be like that for us, my sweetheart—I swear it won't.' His voice was muffled in her hair. 'It suddenly hit me today, out there: living without you all these years has been like existing without an essential part of myself.'

  Something of the pain she had felt when he'd gone away echoed in her mind. But then she whispered softly against his mouth, 'Tell me, is this the new, improved proposal you promised me?'

  'My lover,' he held her away from him to gaze deep into her eyes, 'I want to spend the rest of my life with you, finding out everything about you. Oh, I already know all the little things—how you gnaw that oh, so tempting lower lip of yours when you're worried . . . ' as he touched it with his fingertips she swayed towards him ' . . . and the way you toss back that marvellous flamegold hair when you're angry . . . and the way your eyes turn languid, like a sleepy cat's, when I do t h i s . . . ' h e cupped his fingers round her breasts, and she gave a tiny moan as they swelled tenderly beneath his touch ' . . . and . . . ' sliding Ms hands under her wet body, he lifted it slightly to bury his mouth in the soft cleft between her breasts ' . . . the way your body still smells wonderful—of all the ripe flowers and fruits of summer—waiting for me to gather it.'

  'Oh, Jared,' it was a broken murmur, 'I do love you so much.'

  'My darling,' he gave her a ragged smile, 'if you knew how much I want to hear you say that—forever and ever.'

  As he held her closer she whispered into the satin olive skin of his chest, 'I love you, love you, love you . . .'

  But then her sighs were lost as, twined in each other's arms, they surrendered themselves at last to their passion and their love.