body.
‘Why—why d-did you do th-that?’ she whispered, instinctively clinging to him for support. ‘How could you? I—I hadn’t done anything.’
‘Only recalled those damned memories,’ he rasped. ‘Can’t you understand that the constant re-creation of a memory must in the end become an obsession—a damned unhealthy one! How the hell is it going to end! Have you thought of that?’
She swallowed the lump that was blocking her throat. Not since the death of her fiancé had she felt so desperately unhappy. For she had just realised that she loved Luke, and it seemed very much as if he loved her.
But there was her promise . . .
‘I c-can’t help it if—if my memories keep on returning,’ she said indignantly when she had made some attempt to stop crying. ‘I’ve told you so many times—you don’t understand.’
‘You’re right there! I do not understand!’
‘You would if you’d loved someone, desperately, and then lost them. And if you’d made a promise to be true for ever—’
‘For ever! Do you know what you’re saying?’
‘A promise is a promise.’
‘There are circumstances when promises made in good faith can be broken. Aren’t you ever going to live?’
The tears started to her eyes again, and to her astonishment he took out a handkerchief and began to dry them, infinite tenderness in theaction. She still clung to his jacket, her mouth twisting in slow, convulsive movements.
‘Can we go back?’ she pleaded, like a child asking a favour. ‘I must go back.’
The handkerchief was being put away in his pocket as she spoke. Luke shook his head at her request and said she could hardly enter the hotel looking like that.
‘It’s your fault!’ she cried spiritedly. ‘Why did you do it? You haven’t answered me!’
‘I lost my temper.’ There was neither contrition nor regret in his voice and yet his hands were gentle on her arms. ‘You goad me, Clare, by your stupidity and the rigid way you stick to that promise.’
She said nothing, nor did she make any protest when he led her through the gap and on to the beach. The sand was powder soft beneath her feet, the breeze cool and healing as it caressed her face. To her surprise she was quickly recovering from the violent scene but her heart still hammered uncomfortably against her ribs. She ventured after a while, ‘Do you still want me to help you?’
‘I shall be angry if you don’t. You’ve given me your promise.’ The emphasis on the last word was a deliberate jibe which brought twin spots of crimson to her cheeks.
‘You’re very unkind,’ she complained on a quivering little sob. ‘Have you no feelings at all?’
For answer he drew an exasperated breath and merely increased his pace. They fell silentfor a few minutes, walking close and yet, thought Clare, a million miles apart.
But she was wrong. Once well away from any lights Luke took her hand and drew her into the shadow of the trees. She stood passive as, with a gentle hand beneath her chin, he made her look up at him. He shook his head, another gesture of exasperation.
‘What must I do with you?’ he sighed: ‘I really don’t believe a spanking would do any good, so I shall kiss you instead—’
‘No I—’
‘Take your pick,’ he challenged darkly. ‘I mean to do one or the other, Clare.’
The threat went home and with a little sigh of resignation she quivered, ‘You had better kiss me, then—and I hope you enjoy it!’
‘I shall, and so will you, my child,’ He slid an arm about her waist, drawing her unresistingly to him, while with his free hand he lifted her face and covered her mouth with his. She sensed his affection for her; it still came through even when his demanding lips became almost brutal, his tongue forcing her lips apart to explore her mouth. A fierce pang shot through her, effectively stripping her of any resistance even when his hand slid low and its pressure arched her back to bring her body even closer, melding
‘Why—why d-did you do th-that?’ she whispered, instinctively clinging to him for support. ‘How could you? I—I hadn’t done anything.’
‘Only recalled those damned memories,’ he rasped. ‘Can’t you understand that the constant re-creation of a memory must in the end become an obsession—a damned unhealthy one! How the hell is it going to end! Have you thought of that?’
She swallowed the lump that was blocking her throat. Not since the death of her fiancé had she felt so desperately unhappy. For she had just realised that she loved Luke, and it seemed very much as if he loved her.
But there was her promise . . .
‘I c-can’t help it if—if my memories keep on returning,’ she said indignantly when she had made some attempt to stop crying. ‘I’ve told you so many times—you don’t understand.’
‘You’re right there! I do not understand!’
‘You would if you’d loved someone, desperately, and then lost them. And if you’d made a promise to be true for ever—’
‘For ever! Do you know what you’re saying?’
‘A promise is a promise.’
‘There are circumstances when promises made in good faith can be broken. Aren’t you ever going to live?’
The tears started to her eyes again, and to her astonishment he took out a handkerchief and began to dry them, infinite tenderness in theaction. She still clung to his jacket, her mouth twisting in slow, convulsive movements.
‘Can we go back?’ she pleaded, like a child asking a favour. ‘I must go back.’
The handkerchief was being put away in his pocket as she spoke. Luke shook his head at her request and said she could hardly enter the hotel looking like that.
‘It’s your fault!’ she cried spiritedly. ‘Why did you do it? You haven’t answered me!’
‘I lost my temper.’ There was neither contrition nor regret in his voice and yet his hands were gentle on her arms. ‘You goad me, Clare, by your stupidity and the rigid way you stick to that promise.’
She said nothing, nor did she make any protest when he led her through the gap and on to the beach. The sand was powder soft beneath her feet, the breeze cool and healing as it caressed her face. To her surprise she was quickly recovering from the violent scene but her heart still hammered uncomfortably against her ribs. She ventured after a while, ‘Do you still want me to help you?’
‘I shall be angry if you don’t. You’ve given me your promise.’ The emphasis on the last word was a deliberate jibe which brought twin spots of crimson to her cheeks.
‘You’re very unkind,’ she complained on a quivering little sob. ‘Have you no feelings at all?’
For answer he drew an exasperated breath and merely increased his pace. They fell silentfor a few minutes, walking close and yet, thought Clare, a million miles apart.
But she was wrong. Once well away from any lights Luke took her hand and drew her into the shadow of the trees. She stood passive as, with a gentle hand beneath her chin, he made her look up at him. He shook his head, another gesture of exasperation.
‘What must I do with you?’ he sighed: ‘I really don’t believe a spanking would do any good, so I shall kiss you instead—’
‘No I—’
‘Take your pick,’ he challenged darkly. ‘I mean to do one or the other, Clare.’
The threat went home and with a little sigh of resignation she quivered, ‘You had better kiss me, then—and I hope you enjoy it!’
‘I shall, and so will you, my child,’ He slid an arm about her waist, drawing her unresistingly to him, while with his free hand he lifted her face and covered her mouth with his. She sensed his affection for her; it still came through even when his demanding lips became almost brutal, his tongue forcing her lips apart to explore her mouth. A fierce pang shot through her, effectively stripping her of any resistance even when his hand slid low and its pressure arched her back to bring her body even closer, melding
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