Read Online Follow a Stranger by Charlotte Lamb - Free Book Online
Authors: Charlotte Lamb
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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,
and started the engine.
CHAPTER FOUR
They made the return journey in less than half the time
Jake had taken, tearing round corners and over bumps in
the road, jolting and swaying furiously. She clung to her
seat, eyes shut, aware of Marc’s anger through every
nerve in her body.
When they pulled up outside the villa Sam and Pallas,
who had been sitting on the verandah, rose nervously and
came down to meet them.
Marc ignored them both, helping Kate out of the jeep
with impersonal firmness. She shot a glance up at him
and found his face under a tight control again, but the
grey eyes met hers with the glacial expression she always
found so terrifying.
“Oh, your poor hands!” exclaimed Pallas, catching sight
of them. “What have you done to yourself?”
Marc propelled Kate towards the building, his hand
clamped on her elbow, taking no notice of his sister. He
pushed her upstairs and into the large, luxurious
bathroom.
“Sit down,” he ordered, and left her alone for a
moment, returning with a large bottle of iodine and some
plasters. He ran warm water into the bowl, immersed her
hands with the gentleness of a trained nurse, carefully
washed and dried them, then anointed the grazes with
iodine, while he put a plaster over the deeper cut.
Kate held her breath until the iodine had stopped
stinging. “Thank you,” she whispered, her blue eyes damp
with tears.
He leaned over her, very tall and overwhelming, his
eyes on her face.
“Did it hurt badly?”
She forced a wavering smile. “No, not at all.”
“You’re crying!” He somehow made that sound like an
accusation and she felt, again, anger in him.
“I got some dust in my eyes on the road,” she said
quickly.
He washed her face delicately, wiping her eyes with
wisps of cotton wool. She felt like a child again, sheltered,
cherished, vulnerable. Why was it so pleasant to have
one’s face washed for one? she thought vaguely, enjoying
the sensation.
He took her chin in his long fingers and turned her face
up to him. The savagery she had felt in him had all gone
now. A warm indulgence lay in his eyes.
“What a silly child you are,” he murmured, smiling
quizzically. “You looked like a little girl, with your eyes
screwed up tight, and your lip between your teeth. How
do your hands feel now?”
“Much better, thank you,” she said, very pink. In a
way, he was more dangerous in this mood.
He lifted them in his and then bent suddenly and
kissed them briefly. They quivered in his grip, then were
pulled away.
He straightened, still smiling. “What else does one do
with a hurt child but kiss it better?” he teased.
She turned blindly and stumbled out of the bathroom.
In a moment she was in her own room, the door safely
shut. She leaned against the door, heart pounding.
I mustn’t let him get under my skin like this, she
thought, eyes tight shut. He’s only playing some game or
other. I must keep my defences in place. I must hold on to
my love for Peter.
That evening, when she came down for dinner, she
found Marc in the lounge with a small, slender woman of
fifty or so, whose thick black hair, dark eyes and elegant
clothes had the mark of the Parisian. Marc glanced up,
smiling. “Ah, here is Miss Caulfield now, Mama.” He
stood up. “Miss Caulfield, this is my mother.”
Mrs. Lillitos smilingly held out a thin
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,
and started the engine.
CHAPTER FOUR
They made the return journey in less than half the time
Jake had taken, tearing round corners and over bumps in
the road, jolting and swaying furiously. She clung to her
seat, eyes shut, aware of Marc’s anger through every
nerve in her body.
When they pulled up outside the villa Sam and Pallas,
who had been sitting on the verandah, rose nervously and
came down to meet them.
Marc ignored them both, helping Kate out of the jeep
with impersonal firmness. She shot a glance up at him
and found his face under a tight control again, but the
grey eyes met hers with the glacial expression she always
found so terrifying.
“Oh, your poor hands!” exclaimed Pallas, catching sight
of them. “What have you done to yourself?”
Marc propelled Kate towards the building, his hand
clamped on her elbow, taking no notice of his sister. He
pushed her upstairs and into the large, luxurious
bathroom.
“Sit down,” he ordered, and left her alone for a
moment, returning with a large bottle of iodine and some
plasters. He ran warm water into the bowl, immersed her
hands with the gentleness of a trained nurse, carefully
washed and dried them, then anointed the grazes with
iodine, while he put a plaster over the deeper cut.
Kate held her breath until the iodine had stopped
stinging. “Thank you,” she whispered, her blue eyes damp
with tears.
He leaned over her, very tall and overwhelming, his
eyes on her face.
“Did it hurt badly?”
She forced a wavering smile. “No, not at all.”
“You’re crying!” He somehow made that sound like an
accusation and she felt, again, anger in him.
“I got some dust in my eyes on the road,” she said
quickly.
He washed her face delicately, wiping her eyes with
wisps of cotton wool. She felt like a child again, sheltered,
cherished, vulnerable. Why was it so pleasant to have
one’s face washed for one? she thought vaguely, enjoying
the sensation.
He took her chin in his long fingers and turned her face
up to him. The savagery she had felt in him had all gone
now. A warm indulgence lay in his eyes.
“What a silly child you are,” he murmured, smiling
quizzically. “You looked like a little girl, with your eyes
screwed up tight, and your lip between your teeth. How
do your hands feel now?”
“Much better, thank you,” she said, very pink. In a
way, he was more dangerous in this mood.
He lifted them in his and then bent suddenly and
kissed them briefly. They quivered in his grip, then were
pulled away.
He straightened, still smiling. “What else does one do
with a hurt child but kiss it better?” he teased.
She turned blindly and stumbled out of the bathroom.
In a moment she was in her own room, the door safely
shut. She leaned against the door, heart pounding.
I mustn’t let him get under my skin like this, she
thought, eyes tight shut. He’s only playing some game or
other. I must keep my defences in place. I must hold on to
my love for Peter.
That evening, when she came down for dinner, she
found Marc in the lounge with a small, slender woman of
fifty or so, whose thick black hair, dark eyes and elegant
clothes had the mark of the Parisian. Marc glanced up,
smiling. “Ah, here is Miss Caulfield now, Mama.” He
stood up. “Miss Caulfield, this is my mother.”
Mrs. Lillitos smilingly held out a thin
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