The Seduction Trap (14 page)

Guy considered her answer for a moment and then said, ‘In that case, we have nothing to lose if we get to know one another a little better. Come and walk by the river. It’s a little less tough on the emotions there.’

Tessa sensed a new softness in him. He was letting her see the rawness of his feelings. That meant he trusted her a little more. But she felt muddled, unsure whether she wanted his trust. When she did betray him, he’d be doubly angry-unless she could explain, rationally, what her own needs were. A surreptitious glance at his face showed the turmoil underlying his silence. Walking beside him, past the rose hedges, the small bridge and the honey-gold houses crushed beneath the weight of their limestone tiles, she felt a tug in her heart which almost made her flinch with pain, and she wanted to reach out and say that she knew what it was like to lose a parent, to feel abandoned and alone.

The almost claustrophobically crammed houses on the west side of the hill gave way to sudden freedom when they passed beneath the medieval arch, releasing them into fields of poppies as far as the eye could see, which led down to the glistening river with its bright yellow clumps of irises gleaming like gold beneath the willows.

They sat in the shade of a willow tree, their backs against the trunk, Guy’s long legs stretched out in front of him, hers curled beneath her as she waited expectantly for him to speak. ‘So... you want to know all about me,’ he said slowly. She nodded, her eyes solemn and wary.

For a while he said nothing, holding her gaze with that strange, intense stare of his, churning her mind and her body into tangles. Everything around her vanished, leaving only the darkness of his smouldering eyes, and she felt herself becoming dizzy as her heartbeats increased to a rapid thudding, somewhere high in her breast. ‘God help us all. You are very much your mother’s daughter,’ he grated harshly.

And she drew in a shocked breath, knowing what he meant. He’d read her like a book. He knew she was helplessly caught up in some chemical, physical... or worse, she thought morosely, some deep, irresistible at traction. ‘No!’ was all she could manage. Cynicism hardened the recent warmth of his eyes. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m not my father, who found it im¬possible to resist an alluring woman. After being forced to give up a life of luxury in the relative shelter of the French countryside for the realities of New Orleans, I reckon I can deny myself anything, if necessary.’

His head came up, as if he was denying himself something at that moment. Tessa’s brow furrowed as she wondered what he meant, but he didn’t explain.

‘You had a rougher ride than I did,’ she conceded. ‘We both effectively lost a parent, but you lost the only world you’d ever known. I’ve never experienced anything other than daily struggle. I think it must be even harder to know the good life and then have to get used to poverty. Something of a culture shock, I imagine.’

‘The French quarter in New Orleans sure toughened me up.’ Her eyes lingered on the strong arms. ‘Was it hard, finding a job?’

‘ No, but it was hard coping with the tedium of it,’ he admitted. ‘I started in the kitchens and then worked as a waiter in a restaurant chain.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘You learn a lot about life as a waiter. You get a sixth sense about who’s going to show off, who’s feeling intimidated and which ageing Lothario will find fault with everything just to impress his trophy bimbo. That’s where I learnt to control my temper and conceal whatever I was thinking.’

‘Thanks for the warning.!

‘I think you’d worked that one out for yourself, hadn’t you, Tessa?’

She nodded. ‘You didn’t stay a waiter. You became very successful.’

‘I was driven, wasn’t I?’ he replied, his eyes remote and hard. ‘I intended to return to Turaine a wealthy man. I graduated to commis chef and then...’ He paused, took a deep breath and said, ‘then the restaurant owner’s daughter told me she was pregnant-and I knew I must be the father.’

TESSA froze. Her eyes reproached him. He must be talking about Giselle. ‘Was that deliberate?’ she asked unhappily. He looked away. ‘No. We’d been going around together and she’d been coming on strong for a while. I’d been holding out. I had principles in those days,’ he said with a grim smile. She shivered. He was suggesting that he had none now. ‘Did she love you?’

He shrugged. ‘Who knows? She said so. I thought I might love her. She was seven years older than me, though I think I looked pretty mature for my age. Eventually we made love. Later, she admitted to me that she got pregnant deliberately and told her father that she wanted to marry me.’

‘How did you feel about that?’ she asked curiously. He shrugged. ‘I was young, ambitious and we had good sex,’ he answered bluntly. ‘I was very hungry. I enjoyed having a woman to hold. Someone who wouldn’t tear my heart from my body.’ A small, sardonic smile briefly touched his sombre mouth. ‘I was determined to avoid my father’s mistake. I never want to feel I’m dying of love.’

‘You’ll miss a lot,’ she said huskily. ‘Sure. Pain,’ he scathed.

‘True friendship. Sharing. Happiness.’ She felt very heavy, as if a weight held her down. Perhaps it was sadness at the thought that Guy would go to his grave with an untouched heart. A sigh escaped her parted lips.

‘I told you,’ he said, his voice a little thick with emotion, ‘I can be ruthless with others and with myself. I was promoted to managing the gourmet food business her father had started as a sideline. My mother continued to spend money indiscriminately, so I continued to work all the hours God gave me, fighting to promote the business and make my name. Things weren’t so bad, though I didn’t love my wife.’

‘Didn’t?’ she picked up quickly.

‘We parted a few years ago. She took me to the cleaners. Women seem to have a habit of emptying de Turaine pockets,’ he said wryly.

‘And you were longing to come home, all the time,’ she mused. So Giselle was someone new. Tessa frowned, not wanting to know about the woman, though she wasn’t clear why. She couldn’t be jealous-that would be too ridiculous.

A depression settled on her. Through the willow leaves she could see the tinges of pink in the sky. Time to go back. But the lethargy in her limbs held her there.

Gentle fingers touched her shoulder and she started like a frightened fawn. ‘Hey,’ he murmured in smoky tones.

The hand almost withdrew, then came to rest, his fingers touching her bare neck. She liked him, she realised. And knew that was a fatal thing to admit to herself. Tessa knew her breathing had shortened and she was helpless to prevent her lips from parting to release the quick, rapid puffs of sweetness which must, surely, be fanning his close-too close-face. ‘I must go,’ she said heavily, dismayed to hear how reluctant she sounded.

‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘I think you should.’ Neither of them moved. Tessa became acutely aware of Guy’s breath-sharp, hard, hot. It wafted over her lips and made them quiver in anticipation. And slowly,

inexorably, his head was angling, moving closer and closer... ‘I’ll walk you back,’ he murmured, almost into her mouth. But she couldn’t move. Desire had paralysed her. Bewildered, she begged Guy for help with her eyes, because nothing else seemed to obey her sluggish brain. ‘On second thoughts...’ he drawled.

And she closed her eyes, seeing his intention and unable to bear the sight of the eloquent sensuality of his mocking mouth. Their lips met softly, tentatively. Almost too gently. The pain of it-the uncertain, faltering touch-was a delicious torture. Kiss me, she thought recklessly, her whole body tense as a drumskin. Kiss me, she wished silently. Or had she spoken aloud? She didn’t care. Cared only that he should-properly. Fiercely. Because the heat, the need, the pounding desire in every vein and muscle and brain cell were all at screaming pitch as Guy hovered, lightly brushing her lips with his. And she might have let out a sigh of desire. She wasn’t sure. But Guy had heard it. And had taken her in his arms, crushing her against him, relieving at last the terrible emptiness of her body as he kissed her with a thoroughness that left her breathless but exhilarated.

‘I think,’ he said quietly, somewhere in the far distance, ‘I should not take advantage of the sunset and the warm afternoon like this.’

Why not? was her first wild, unthinking reaction as the emptiness, the loss of his mouth, made her want to take the initiative and catch his dark head in her two hands so that she could bring their mouths together again and drive away the overwhelming feeling of deprivation.

But slowly sense returned and her protective shield wrapped itself around her. He was giving her an excuse, like the gentleman he was. Or escaping from an entanglement he didn’t want.

Maybe he hadn’t noticed that she’d been out of her mind. She went pink, knowing how easy it would have been for him to murmur sweet nothings into her ear and seduce her. Even now her body was yelling in protest, lungs desperate for air, heart flipping about in her throat, all her heat concentrated in one hungry, aching place.

And the madness that possessed her, the hurting, aching longing, gave her an unwelcome insight into the unstoppable passion that Guy’s father had felt.

No matter that reacting to Guy in that way was stupid, or that it demeaned her, wiping away her self-respect because he already had a relationship with Giselle. No matter that Guy had probably kissed her to make her malleable. Reason had fled. She needed his touch so badly that she could almost fling caution to the wind and invite him into her arms. For a second or two she pictured herself slipping languorously to the ground and offering her body. Then, appalled at her weak moral fibre, she hunted around for something brisk which would obliterate the smouldering atmosphere, and said crushingly, ‘Forget the warm afternoon and the sunset; I have to check the drains.’

His cynical smile tormented her. Because she wanted to kiss it away and bring back the urgency of his mouth, the hot, driving passion ... She shuddered deliciously. And turned it into a shiver as if she felt cold.

‘Ever practical. Or is it the humour you use when you’re scared, Tessa?’

Clever. So close to the truth that it hurt. ‘It’s the humour I use when I have to check the drains,’ she muttered, getting to her feet unsteadily. ‘My legs have gone to sleep!’ she declared, with a small laugh to excuse her shakiness. ‘Massage?’ he suggested wickedly.

Her eyebrow managed to answer for her, offering a jaundiced and cynical reply in the way it arched. And, to her relief, he didn’t press home the advantage he had. Either he didn’t know how weak she felt or he thought he’d gone far enough in his bid to soften her up. She hated him for playing on her emotions-and herself for behaving like hand-softened putty. ‘I know what you were doing,’ she said, managing some semblance of sharp reproof. ‘Enlighten me.’

‘Softening me up,’ she muttered resentfully. ‘How did I do?’ he asked, with no expression in his voice at all. ‘Hopelessly,’ she lied. ‘A kiss here or there doesn’t sway me.’

‘Lucky you.’

Shading her eyes against the low, shafting sun, she tried to identify something in his expression that would explain the odd response. But he returned her gaze with a calm detachment which she envied because she felt as mushy as jelly inside. Returning with him across the fields, the orange sun warming her back, she fought the tension knotting her muscles and screwing up her heart as it flung itself recklessly against her ribcage. This was an ordinary man, she told herself crossly. He breathed, he lied, he kicked people out of his way. Sometimes he was kind and cooked pasta for starving waifs, but only if it suited his purpose.

And she’d better remember that, or she’d be hurt so badly that the episode with David would be something she’d look back on and laugh merrily at in contrast.

‘Still on for tomorrow evening?’ he asked quietly, when they reached the lane to her cottage.

‘I don’t know.’ She tried to sound casual, as if she wasn’t afraid. But now she had no faith in her ability to rebuff him and that scared her.

‘Think about it. Let me know,’ he said gently. ‘Don’t let a casual kiss interfere with business. There’s only one thing I’ll have on my mind tomorrow evening, Tessa. Perhaps that will relieve your anxieties?’

No, she thought, watching him saunter away. She knew how she felt. Nothing would change that. This time her feelings were well out of control. Her anxieties wouldn’t go away, however much she tried to divert them. Hungrily her eyes devoured him-the easy, confident walk, the carriage of his head, the narrow hips. And she turned, thrusting her key in the door angrily, knowing with a sinking feeling that she was obsessed by him

and temporarily insane.

Fortunately she had a lot to do the next morning. At seven, the van delivered the building materials she’d bought with some of her precious savings. She flung herself energetically into work on The Old Bakery, finding something soothing in the physical effort of mixing sand and lime and cement together for fresh mortar, and she even enjoyed chipping out the old with the little pick-hammer.

Voices murmured down the street but she ignored them, intent on balancing on the ladder she’d found in the old storeroom in the attic. Carefully, using a pointing trowel, she scooped up some mortar from the hawk-board in her hand, then expertly flicked the mixture into the gap between the stone. A quick scrape to compress it, and …

Two men below, she registered. One must be Guy, judging by the wobble of her legs as some part of her brain recognised those wide shoulders and the smooth dark head.