from him—up the stairs on legs which threatened to betray her at every step, and into the illusion of safety offered by her room.
Chapter Four
GEMMA sat for a long time on the edge of her bed, staring blankly into space, trying to come to terms with what had just happened, and failing by a mile.
She could offer neither explanation nor excuse for herself. This was a man she had cause only to hate. A man whose name she did not even know. A man who was using her as the instrument of a vengeance she did not even comprehend.
Why then, in spite of everything, had she fallen into his arms?
For a moment, she’d even had the upper hand, but her own cowardice had let her down. Gemma shivered. She couldn’t have killed him, she thought, but she could have hurt him, incapacitated him sufficiently to allow her to make her getaway unmolested. Now she was back to square one, or worse.
She thought her defiance had surprised him, but there would be no element of surprise in future. He would now be prepared—on the watch for anything she might do.
But he had no idea that she could drive, she told herself, trying to rally her spirits. And her next plan had to be to find the keys of the jeep, even though the prospect of having to negotiate that mountain road in an unfamiliar vehicle frankly appalled her.
But what other choice did she have, without shoes to walk in, or indeed, proper clothes?
Once inside the jeep, she reasoned, she would be safe until she got to Chania. She’d find James and Hilary somehow, and Hilary would lend her anything she needed. She would have to enlist James’ good offices over her missing passport and travellers cheques, she realised ruefully, and sighed out loud. God, what a mess it all was.
And when she did get away, there was still the problem of Michael to contend with. Somehow she would have to find him, wherever he’d gone, and warn him to stay out of Crete for good, even if he claimed he was innocent of the accusation. If her unknown captor was right, it would be all too easy for any determined and vengeful persons to stage an accident in these mountains.
She looked at the flickering flame of the little lamp beside her bed, and her lips twisted. She’d found it alight when she came in, and realised that he must have done it while she was occupied in the kitchen. Before, she thought, he’d come to the decision to let her sleep alone that night.
She shivered again. She couldn’t count on being allowed another respite, which made her need to escape during the next twenty-four hours not just imperative, but overwhelming.
Those few agonisingly passionate moments in his arms had taught her things about herself that she had never known, could never have guessed. In the past, although she’d had a number of boyfriends, she’d always regarded herself as something of a cool customer. It had always been simple enough to call a halt when more than kisses were sought, and this was why she’d always fought shy of any closer commitment. In a way, she’d almost been afraid that there might be something lacking in her, which would make her a bad bet for any man seeking a normal loving relationship with a wife. So, while the kissing had been enjoyable enough, she’d never been tempted to go further.
Except tonight, she thought, putting tentative fingers against the swollen fullness of her mouth.
Decent men, with perfectly honourable intentions, had wanted her, and she had sent them away without one pang of regret. Why in hell, she asked herself despairingly, had she had to learn her first lesson in desire from a stranger who cared nothing for her, who was only taking her to satisfy some primitive notion of justice?
Yet he himself was far from primitive, she thought wonderingly. He might wear peasant clothing, but everything he had, including the shirt she herself was wearing, was of the finest quality. He was educated and sophisticated—so how could he lend himself to this barbarity?
And all the
Chapter Four
GEMMA sat for a long time on the edge of her bed, staring blankly into space, trying to come to terms with what had just happened, and failing by a mile.
She could offer neither explanation nor excuse for herself. This was a man she had cause only to hate. A man whose name she did not even know. A man who was using her as the instrument of a vengeance she did not even comprehend.
Why then, in spite of everything, had she fallen into his arms?
For a moment, she’d even had the upper hand, but her own cowardice had let her down. Gemma shivered. She couldn’t have killed him, she thought, but she could have hurt him, incapacitated him sufficiently to allow her to make her getaway unmolested. Now she was back to square one, or worse.
She thought her defiance had surprised him, but there would be no element of surprise in future. He would now be prepared—on the watch for anything she might do.
But he had no idea that she could drive, she told herself, trying to rally her spirits. And her next plan had to be to find the keys of the jeep, even though the prospect of having to negotiate that mountain road in an unfamiliar vehicle frankly appalled her.
But what other choice did she have, without shoes to walk in, or indeed, proper clothes?
Once inside the jeep, she reasoned, she would be safe until she got to Chania. She’d find James and Hilary somehow, and Hilary would lend her anything she needed. She would have to enlist James’ good offices over her missing passport and travellers cheques, she realised ruefully, and sighed out loud. God, what a mess it all was.
And when she did get away, there was still the problem of Michael to contend with. Somehow she would have to find him, wherever he’d gone, and warn him to stay out of Crete for good, even if he claimed he was innocent of the accusation. If her unknown captor was right, it would be all too easy for any determined and vengeful persons to stage an accident in these mountains.
She looked at the flickering flame of the little lamp beside her bed, and her lips twisted. She’d found it alight when she came in, and realised that he must have done it while she was occupied in the kitchen. Before, she thought, he’d come to the decision to let her sleep alone that night.
She shivered again. She couldn’t count on being allowed another respite, which made her need to escape during the next twenty-four hours not just imperative, but overwhelming.
Those few agonisingly passionate moments in his arms had taught her things about herself that she had never known, could never have guessed. In the past, although she’d had a number of boyfriends, she’d always regarded herself as something of a cool customer. It had always been simple enough to call a halt when more than kisses were sought, and this was why she’d always fought shy of any closer commitment. In a way, she’d almost been afraid that there might be something lacking in her, which would make her a bad bet for any man seeking a normal loving relationship with a wife. So, while the kissing had been enjoyable enough, she’d never been tempted to go further.
Except tonight, she thought, putting tentative fingers against the swollen fullness of her mouth.
Decent men, with perfectly honourable intentions, had wanted her, and she had sent them away without one pang of regret. Why in hell, she asked herself despairingly, had she had to learn her first lesson in desire from a stranger who cared nothing for her, who was only taking her to satisfy some primitive notion of justice?
Yet he himself was far from primitive, she thought wonderingly. He might wear peasant clothing, but everything he had, including the shirt she herself was wearing, was of the finest quality. He was educated and sophisticated—so how could he lend himself to this barbarity?
And all the
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