An Innocent's Surrender Page 13

  No one had ever touched her so intimately, but her body felt no shyness or self-conscious hesitancy, impatient for more than the delicate caress of his fingers against her eager flesh.

  ‘Dominic.’ She moaned his name, without being aware that she had done so, and felt him surge against her.

  ‘Yes,’ he said fiercely against her mouth. ‘Yes.’

  And he moved and she felt the awesome matching of their bodies; hers untutored but eager to accommodate and welcome the powerful thrust of his, his knowledgeable but held in check by a mind that cared enough about her sex to want to give as well as take pleasure.

  All these things Christy dimly recognised somewhere beneath the flood of desire swelling inside her, just as she also recognised and registered the instinctive tightening of muscles unused to such intimate pressure.

  Immediately her body registered Dominic’s faint hesitation, but reality had long ago been left behind and her hips lifted and moved, enticing him, her legs wrapping round him, holding him within her, so that he was forced to respond and carry her with him though the sharply searing pain that faded as quickly as it had started and upwards to a place far beyond any mortal boundaries where they could both share the explosive delight that ran like quicksilver through their bodies, contorting them in delirious spasms of pleasure that went on and on into infinity before finally leaving them both exhausted and spent.

  From a great distance away Christy heard Dominic call her name. She could feel tears of happiness gathering in her eyes as she opened them to look at him.

  ‘For God’s sake, it’s too late for tears now,’ she heard him saying roughly, but already the world was slipping away from her and she was sliding into a deep, warm, black abyss.

  She came round almost immediately to find that Dominic had propped her up against some cushions he had taken from the settee and covered her with his shirt.

  She could smell the scent of him on it and she wanted to curl into it and wrap it round her, but he was standing in front of her, zipping up his trousers, frowning down at her.

  ‘Christy, for goodness’ sake, why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?’ She heard the censure in his voice and recoiled from it, watching his mouth tighten.

  ‘Oh, God…don’t be even more stupid than you already have. Why, if you wanted a man that badly…’

  It was as though he had driven a sword straight through her heart.

  ‘You were the one who made the first move,’ she reminded him shakily. She felt at a disadvantage lying here at his feet covered in nothing more than a cotton shirt. ‘Please pass me my clothes.’

  He obeyed her, almost throwing them at her. The front of her dress was ripped almost to the waist. How on earth was she going to explain that to the hirers?

  ‘I’m sorry about your gown.’

  He sounded more indifferent than sorry, and self-defence made her snap at him,

  ‘You were wrong you know—David didn’t buy it for me. I hired it.’

  ‘Then, of course, I’ll pay for the damage.’

  She couldn’t believe that not ten minutes ago they had been sharing the ultimate human experience. It was like stepping into a surrealistic nightmare.

  ‘I shouldn’t have made love to you like that,’ he said grittily. ‘I had no right. If I’d known that you were a virgin…’

  Of course he wouldn’t have made love to her if he’d known, Christy acknowledged. He had expected her to be as experienced as he was himself; he had desired her and had felt free to want a woman who had other lovers, in a way he had not felt free to want her seventeen-year-old self. Sickeningly, she wondered if he thought she would expect some sort of commitment from him now, and if he was trying to warn her off. The humiliation of it struck right through to her aching soul.

  ‘It does take two, Dominic,’ she told him brittlely. ‘I shouldn’t have let you. You’ll have to put it down to my frustration at losing David…’

  ‘Losing him?’

  ‘Yes, he and Meryl have gone to live in the States.’

  ‘You mean you bargained for him with your virginity and now that he hasn’t taken the bait, you decided you might as well get over your physical frustration with me, as well as with anyone else.’

  It sickened her that he could think such a thing of her, but it offered her an escape route with her pride intact, so she acknowledged his words with a brief inclination of her head.

  ‘We were both using one another, weren’t we?’ she suggested with a tight smile. ‘I suspect that I was no more than a substitute for Amanda.’

  ‘Amanda’s looking for marriage…a second husband. I can’t give her those things.’

  He sounded almost abstracted, as though Amanda’s wants were of very little importance to him, but Christy knew better. Sick at heart, she turned away from him.

  ‘I think I’d better go…’

  He seemed reluctant to move.

  ‘You…I…’ He frowned and turned to look at her. ‘If I hurt you in any way…’

  Christy knew what he meant and her face burned. He was, after all, a doctor, but she still felt humiliated that he could revert to a professionalism so soon after arousing her to heights that still lingered inside her.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she told him shortly. ‘I want to go home, Dominic.’

  ‘I’ll take you.’

  It was something of a shock to discover that she had been with him for a little more than an hour. The outside light burned over her parents’ front door, but there was no sound from their bedroom as she tiptoed past. That was just as well; it would have been very difficult to find an excuse for her ruined dress. When she had taken it off she packed it away carefully in its box, so that no one else could see it.

  Her body ached slightly now, but it was a pleasurable, voluptuous ache, an ache in fact, that reminded her body of the pleasures it had known and that held out the lure of repeating them.

  Only in her case there would be no repetition; she knew that. Dominic had simply used her, but she couldn’t wholly blame him; after all, she had made no attempt to stop him, had she? Indeed, some people might say that she had actively encouraged him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SOMEHOW life went on, although to Christy, in a daze of misery and pain, it seemed to have become something to be endured rather than enjoyed.

  Her mother was now spending several hours a day out of bed, and Christy was at great pains to be unavailable whenever Dominic called at the house.

  The shock of his arrival the day after the Valentine Ball still lingered with her. She had expected that he would be as eager to avoid her as she was him. She had told him then, without giving him the chance to speak to her, that she didn’t want to see him again. She couldn’t have borne him guessing how she felt about him and pitying her for it.

  Luckily the hire company had been able to get the dress repaired, and now, if she was sensible, she would put the entire events of that night right out of her mind.

  The only trouble was that no matter how firm she was with herself during the daytime, at night in her dreams she lost complete control, and dreamed of Dominic again and again, often waking up with tears still damp on her skin. Only this morning her mother had remarked on her wan expression and loss of weight, commenting that anyone would think that she was the one who had been ill.

  Soon her mother would be able to manage without her. Originally Christy had contemplated staying in Setondale and finding a job in either Newcastle or Alnwick, but that had been before she had realised that Dominic had come home.

  She knew that her parents were perturbed and concerned by the abrupt change in her, but although once or twice her mother had tried to bring the conversation round to Dominic, Christy had fobbed her off. The way she felt about him was far too painful to discuss with anyone else.

  Perhaps if Meryl had not been away in Los Angeles, she might have been able to talk to her. Only this morning Christy had received a letter from her confirming the date of the baby’s expected
birth, and telling Christy that David had still had no success in replacing her. It was too late now to acknowledge that she would have been wiser to have gone with them. She had made her decision with the best intentions.

  The end of the month brought fresh snowfalls, and the knowledge that their lovemaking was not going to result in a child. While logically she knew she ought to be relieved, and that she had been a fool to take such a risk, deep down inside Christy was aware of an atavistic sense of loss and failure, as though somehow in not conceiving the child of the man she loved she had shown herself to be less of a woman.

  She reasoned with herself that an illegitimate child was the very last thing she wanted, but even while she knew it to be true, there was still a feeling of emptiness inside her.

  ‘Dominic was asking after you yesterday,’ her mother commented, watching her as she stood motionless before the sitting-room window staring out at the white landscape. Blizzard conditions had been forecast for later in the day, but as yet there was no sign of it in the clear deep blue arc of the sky and the brilliant glitter of the sun. Despite the sunshine, it was bitterly cold, well below freezing, and only that morning had the snow-plough cleared the way up the lane.

  ‘Christy, can’t you tell me what’s wrong? Can’t I help at all?’ her mother asked sadly when Christy made no response to her earlier remark. ‘You can’t go on like this. You’re losing weight…you’ve become so withdrawn that your father and I hardly recognise our daughter any more, and Dominic doesn’t look much better. If you’ve quarrelled, surely you could make it up?’

  ‘It wasn’t that sort of quarrel,’ Christy told her heavily, refusing to turn round. The very sound of Dominic’s name on someone else’s lips was enough to start the silly weak tears she cried at night in the privacy of her room flowing again.

  ‘Your father tells me that Amanda has gone back to London.’

  The sensation that jolted through her, hope mingled with despair, warned her how very vulnerable she was. She told herself that Amanda’s departure meant nothing, and that in any case, even if Dominic’s relationship with the other woman had petered out, there was still absolutely no hope of him every feeling about her the way she did about him.

  By his very words to her about Amanda’s desire for a second marriage, he had shown how far any sort of permanent commitment was from his own mind, and she loved him far too much to be his partner in a meaningless sexual affair.

  ‘Talking of Amanda, I’ve heard another fascinating piece of gossip about the Andrews family. You’ll never guess what. The Major and Lady Anthony are going to get married! Apparently he’s been in love with her for years, and they had planned to get married but her father refused his permission. He insisted that Lady Anthony marry her cousin, and she and the Major quarrelled bitterly about it. The Vicar’s wife told me the whole story. The ceremony is to take place in the Manor’s private chapel, and there’s to be a wedding breakfast there afterwards. I think it’s one of the most romantic things I’ve ever heard of, don’t you? I suppose he’s never stopped loving her for all this time.’

  It was romantic, and Christy was pleased for them both, but somehow hearing about the happiness of others only served to emphasise her own misery.

  ‘I hope the snow holds off,’ she heard her mother sigh. ‘Your father and I are due to visit the Hopkinses tomorrow. We haven’t seen them since before Christmas.’

  Helen and Bill Hopkins were very close friends of Christy’s parents and lived in Alnwick. They had spent Christmas and New Year with their daughter and her family in Leeds, but had recently returned, and apparently Dominic had agreed that her mother was now well enough to go and visit them.

  ‘I know Helen would be delighted to see you if you want to come with us.’

  Christy shook her head. ‘No, thanks, Mum, I’m not feeling very sociable at the moment. In fact, now that you’re properly on the road to recovery, I shall have to do something about finding myself another job. I’ll have to start getting the London papers.’

  ‘Oh, but Christy, your father and I had hoped… Oh well, it’s your life, my dear.’

  * * *

  Early the next morning Christy’s parents set out for Alnwick. They had been gone less than an hour when the sky clouded over ominously, the wind picking up in velocity. Watching the first furious flurries of snow drifting in the high-speed winds, Christy shivered, and prayed that her parents made it to their friends safely.

  Half an hour later when the phone rang and she heard her father’s voice she was not surprised when he told her that they had decided to stay over in Alnwick and spend the night with their friends.

  ‘I think you’re very wise, Dad. It’s snowing so heavily I can barely see the drive from the window, and it’s drifting like mad.’

  ‘Yes, it’s the same here, although it’s only just started. You must have got it before us. The local forecast isn’t at all good, and the last thing your mother needs right now is to be stranded in a snowdrift. She’s worried about you, though, Christy. Will you be all right on your own?’

  ‘I’m a big girl now, Dad. I’ve been living on my own for several years—remember?’

  She heard her father chuckle and was glad that she had managed to reassure him. She felt guilty because she knew that her parents had been worried about her. She knew that she ought to make an effort to seem more cheerful. After another five minutes on the phone she managed to reassure her mother that she wasn’t either going to starve or freeze to death in the brief space of twenty-four hours, and then she hung up.

  The day stretched endlessly in front of her. It was only just lunchtime, although outside it was almost dusk, and it was snowing so heavily it was impossible to see where earth ended and sky began. She hadn’t exaggerated when she told her father that it was impossible to see the lane from the window, and when she went to open the back door to bring in a supply of logs from the outhouse, just in case the central heating should happen to go off, the force of the wind whipped it from her fingers, smashing it back against the wall with a harsh thud.

  Already snow had drifted over a foot deep against the door, and she had to go back inside and don her anorak and wellies before she could go and get the logs.

  It took her several journeys to bring in enough. Her father, with almost a lifetime’s experience of winter blizzards, had advised her to keep the sitting-room fire going at all times, and even to sleep down there if necessary should the central heating fail.

  She was just stamping the snow off her wellingtons when she heard the sound of a car engine. Disbelievingly she stared towards the lane, watching the blue-grey shape of a Land Rover emerging through the blizzard. It stopped opposite the gate, the engine left running as its driver got out.

  Even clad in wellies and a thick padded jacket, Christy recognised Dominic. His dark head was bare, his hair whipped by the wind and whitened by flakes of snow.

  What was he doing here?

  He didn’t speak until he drew level with her, his curt, ‘Christy, I need your help,’ making her stare silently at him.

  ‘Look, I haven’t got much time. One of my patients has gone into premature labour. She lives in one of the hill farms, and there’s no way we’re going to be able to get her into hospital in time. Luckily they’d got this Land Rover in for a service in the garage in Setondale, and as it was an emergency they lent it to me.’

  ‘But I can’t help,’ Christy protested. ‘I don’t have any medical training.’

  ‘I don’t want you for that.’ Dominic frowned as though in an indictment of her stupidity. ‘I want you to take charge of her children. Her husband’s out on the hills with his sheep, and she’s got twins and a toddler, all under five. I’d ask your mother…’

  ‘Mum and Dad aren’t here. They’ve gone into Alnwick to see some friends.’

  She wanted to protest that Dominic had no right to dragoon her into helping him like this, but her heart went out to the pregnant woman isolated from all the protection of
modern medicine in her remote home, and somehow she found herself clambering into the Land Rover and holding her breath as Dominic put it into gear and the heavy four-wheel-drive vehicle inched slowly through the deepening snow.

  It was a hair-raising journey to the farm—only four miles away from her parents’ house, but much, much higher in the hills and consequently even more exposed to the ferocity of the blizzard.

  Three times the Land Rover got stuck and both she and Dominic had to get out and use the spades and grit he had packed in the back to get it moving again. Each time, as she wiped the freezing snow from her stinging face, Christy wondered what on earth she had let herself in for.

  It seemed to take hours to reach the farm, and on the third occasion they became stuck she couldn’t help asking Dominic uncertainly, ‘Will she be all right…I mean…’

  ‘She’s a very sensible woman, and telephoned the surgery the moment she went into labour, knowing that it was going to be impossible for us to bring her down. Her baby wasn’t due for another three weeks, and both the twins and her first child were late, so she wasn’t prepared for this one’s early arrival.’

  Although he sounded calm, Christy could sense that Dominic was concerned and she shivered on a surge of sympathy and apprehension for the pregnant woman.

  ‘Couldn’t a helicopter…?’ she suggested timidly, but Dominic shook his head before she could finish her sentence.

  ‘Nowhere for it to land; the house is on a fairly steep hillside. Look, I think you can see the lights from it up ahead.’

  By straining her eyes Christy could just about make out the faint yellow gleam ahead of them. Staring into the snow made her eyes ache, and she marvelled at Dominic’s skill and stamina in managing to drive them this far.

  She could hardly believe it when they finally rolled to a halt in the farmyard.

  Two small tow-coloured heads poked round the back door as Christy jumped down from the Land Rover. The twins, no doubt, she decided, following Dominic inside. The kitchen was warmed by an immense Aga, the strain in the face of the woman sitting in front of it telling its own story.