Lady of Hay by Barbara Erskine (english love story books .TXT) 📗

She looked toward him, still frightened, not able to see his face.

"What do you think I've come for?" He turned sideways suddenly and she saw that he was smiling. Her blood turned to ice. It was not Nick. The man behind those steel-blue eyes was calculating and cold and full of hatred.

Without conscious thought she tried to get up, but he had anticipated her. Before she could move he had grabbed her, pushing her back against the cushions. "No, my lady, " he said quietly. "No. Let us hear the end of this story, shall we? Let us hear it together. "

"No!" She pushed at him desperately. "Nick, you're not supposed to be here. You must go away. I don't want to go on, Nick. I mustn't. It's too near the end. Please, Nick. You know I mustn't. " She stared up at him, terrified. "Nick, " she cried. "Stop it. Don't you see what's happening? It's Sam! Sam is making you do this. Please. Don't let it happen. Don't let Sam win!"

He frowned as he looked down at her. "Sam?" he said slowly. "There was something I had to tell Sam—"

Jo swallowed hard. "He is with your mother, " she said. "He called earlier. He wanted you to call him back. " His grip on her wrists had slackened slightly. "Go on, Nick, please call him. It's important. " She tried to keep her voice steady, her eyes on his face.

She saw the slight flicker of uncertainty for a moment behind his eyes, then it had gone and he was smiling again. "You are very anxious I should phone him all of a sudden. I wonder why. " His grip on her wrists tightened again and he bent over her until his face was only inches from hers. "Do you think he is going to distract me from what I came to do?"

Her mouth had gone dry. "What did you come to do?" she whispered.

From outside the open French doors the sound of a car hooting in the darkened square blasted into the room. Nick raised his head slightly, but his eyes did not leave her face. "I came to see you, " he said evenly. "The woman I love. "

Jo was breathing heavily, trying to control the panic that was threatening to overtake her.

"If you love me, Nick, you won't hurt me, " she said pleadingly. She tried once again unsuccessfully to push him away. "Please, let me go. You're hurting my wrists—"

He smiled. "So little a pain, surely, compared with the pain you caused me. "

"I didn't mean to cause you pain, " she cried desperately. "You must believe me, I didn't. I love you—" Her voice cracked into a sob.

Nick did not move. His eyes narrowed cynically. "Love, " he whispered. "What love?"

After transferring both her wrists to one hand, he touched her cheek gently. A teardrop stood for a moment on the pad of his forefinger. Slowly he leaned forward and brought his lips down on hers.

"Who did you really love?" he murmured. "Was it de Clare, all the time?"

Jo stared up into the eyes so close to hers.

"It was you, " she whispered. "In the end it has always been you—" She relaxed at last beneath the iron grip on her wrists and felt at once a corresponding lessening of pressure from his hand as his mouth sought hers once more. Closing her eyes, she could feel the accustomed longing beginning to stir somewhere deep inside her. Almost without realizing it she was returning the kiss, feeling her body tremble as he reached inside her blouse. For a long moment she lay still, then frantically she tried to tear her wrists free of his imprisoning hand. Instantly his grip tightened. Leaning back slightly, he smiled. "Relax, Jo, " he said softly. "Don't fight me. " As he looked down at her she saw a new enigmatic blankness in his eyes, then he reached forward again and touched her face. "Now, " he said, "the end of the story, I think. "

"No!" She shrank away from his touch, but she could not move as his free hand, gently insistent now, moved slowly over her forehead and down her temples. Desperately she tried to turn away, but he caught her chin, forcing her to look at him as once more he stroked her forehead, soothing her, relaxing her in spite of her sick terror.

He smiled. "That's better. Stop fighting me, Jo. I'm not going to hurt you, " he said softly. "This is what we both want, and you know it. To find out what happened. " His fingers had not stopped caressing her temples and she lay still at last, looking up at him, conscious only of what intensely blue eyes he had. Nick smiled and, leaning forward, brought his lips down to hers once more. He was forcing her back, by sheer willpower, into the past. She was trapped and even through her fear she could feel the world around her slipping out of gear.

It was several minutes before Nick stopped the movement of his hand. He looked at her closely. Her eyes were closed and he could feel the tension leaving her body as she relaxed deeper into the cushions. Gently he released her wrists at last and, leaning over her, kissed her again.

"Now, my lady, " he said. "I want you to tell me what happened next. You were on the ship, leaving Ireland... leaving me behind. You thought you had escaped me, didn't you?" He laughed, then stood up and walked over to the open door and looked out onto the balcony. "Come, tell me what happened next. Tell me how you fared on your voyage to freedom. "

An hour or two before dawn Matilda, huddled in a fur blanket with her little grandson John in her arms, fell into an uneasy sleep, rocked by the gentle motion of the boat. When she awoke the sky was already graying, the