Stormspell (17 page)

Below them, the curve of the bay followed their progress, moon-gilded and romantic in its secretive shadow. It was a time of the evening that Ruth had never enjoyed before, and she realised in passing how much she had still to learn.

Dominic brought the motor-cycle to a halt on a grassy knoll overlooking a deserted stretch of sand. A tussocky slope gave on to palm-strewn dunes, and beyond, the surging waters of the Caribbean drifted in continual motion. The line of foam that marked the ocean's passage was silver-tongued and melodious, and the murmur of its intrusion softly played along the shore. On either side of this sheltered inlet, rocky bastions jutted for almost half a mile, and Dominic kicked down the metal strut that supported the bike and dismounted with lazy precision.

'Is that the Guarder Rock Celeste was talking about?' he enquired, and Ruth pushed her skirt over her knees, remaining where she was.

'It's Garde du Roc, actually,' she said, correcting him. 'And yes, this is the bay.'

'And where are the Serpent's Teeth from here?'

Ruth swallowed hard. 'Not far. Perhaps a mile.'

'Is that right?' He came to the bike to stand with his hands on the petrol tank, supporting himself. 'How about taking a look?'

Ruth licked her dry lips. 'We've been gone about fifteen minutes already.'

Dominic's mouth hardened. 'You want to go back?' he asked flatly and she shifted uncomfortably.

'Sh—shouldn't we?'

He shrugged, and then nodded rather resignedly. 'I guess so.'

Ruth bit her lip. 'We could go down to the beach for a few minutes, if you want to,' she offered.

'Why?' He was very direct.

'To—to stretch our legs,' she ventured, it's such a lovely night.'

'You noticed!' he remarked, making no attempt to hide his sarcasm.

'Of course I noticed,' exclaimed Ruth indignantly, trying to wriggle her leg over the bike without exposing herself as Celeste had done. It was not a successful attempt, but she faced Dominic bravely as he watched her futile efforts, finally giving up the struggle for modesty, and allowing him a glimpse of a slim brown thigh. 'Well, shall we do that?' she demanded, standing beside him, tall and slender as a reed in her faded skirt and cotton shirt, and with an indifferent gesture he complied.

She left her sandals on the seat of the bike, preferring to walk barefooted on the sand. It was cool beneath her feet, sliding between her toes, slightly abrasive where particles of coral had been ground to a fine powder. It was threaded with shells of every shape and size, their colours muted in the moonlight, a necklace of sea-pearls lacing the shore.

Dominic walked beside her, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his slacks, saying nothing; yet she was aware of him with every fibre of her being. She wished she could say something—
anything
—to break this impasse, but no matter how she tried to compose her words, they all sounded silly and childish inside her head.

She glanced sideways at him, pressing her lips together in helpless frustration. What would Celeste do in circumstances like this? she wondered, and then coloured hotly at the inevitable answer. One thing was certain, she would not be tongue-tied and nervous. Celeste knew what she wanted, and went out and got it. The trouble was. Ruth didn't honestly know what she wanted. She only knew her time with Dominic was slipping away, and he seemed hardly aware of her.

With extreme daring, she put out her hand and touched his arm then, drawing his eyes to her. His skin felt cool and firm to her touch, the muscles hardening to resist her grasp, but she slid her fingers round his sleeve, linking her arm with his.

Dominic halted, removing her fingers with eloquent firmness, his brows drawing together above the mild impatience of his features.

'Don't do that, Ruth.' he said, his tone cool and offhand. 'If you want to go back, just say so. I didn't ask you to come down here.'

'I don't want to go back!' Ruth protested recklessly. meeting the narrowing darkness of his eyes. 'I just wanted you to remember I'm here, that's all. I might as well be invisible for all the notice you take of me."

There was a strained silence after this outburst. Ruth was appalled at her own audacity, and she guessed Dominic was as embarrassed by it as she was. She didn't know what had come over her, and she turned away abruptly, feeling ready to die of shame.

'You're wrong,' Dominic said at last, but she had the feeling the words were being dragged from him. 'Of course I'm aware of you, Ruth, although I doubt you know what that really means.' He paused. 'I told you once before—you're a beautiful girl. I couldn't help being aware of you, even if I wanted to. So stop feeling so sorry for yourself and let's go back.'

Ruth turned slowly, her hair swinging silkily almost to her waist. 'You really think I'm beautiful?' she echoed disbelievingly. 'But that day on the beach, you seemed angry when you told me so.'

Dominic pushed back his hair with a restless hand. 'I wasn't angry—at least, not with you. With myself, maybe.'

'Why?' She was puzzled.

'Ruth, let's go back,' he said flatly. 'This kind of conversation is going to get us nowhere.'

'Then why are you getting angry again?'

'I'm not getting angry.'

'You are.' She frowned. 'I can tell. I know—'

'You know me so well, is that it?' he demanded harshly. 'Come on, Ruth—'

'Don't be angry,' she begged. 'You're going away tomorrow. Can't we at least remain friends?'

'We are friends,' he assured her grimly. 'Good lord, you saved my life. And if there was something I could do for you. some way I could repay you, I would. But your situation here—well, it precludes any help I might wish to give you.'

'Help?' She looked faintly apprehensive.

'Yes, help.' He sighed. 'The chance to offer you something you obviously couldn't afford.'

'You mean you want to
buy
me something?' she exclaimed disbelievingly, and Dominic made a sound of impatience.

'You're taking me very literally.'

'What, then?'

He hesitated. 'An education, maybe,' he suggested. 'A university education. If your father would only let you come to England—'

Ruth drew back from him. 'I am educated,' she declared tremulously. 'I may seem inexperienced to you, but I'm not ignorant!'

'I never said you were,' he amended mildly. 'Don't you see? If you went to university—'

'I see that you seem determined to define me as a student!' she retorted stiffly, twisting her hands together. 'You're just like my father. You won't see me as anything more than a child!'

'I am
not
like your father!' he countered, with some heat. 'I don't think like your father, I don't act like your father, and God knows, I don't
feel
like your father!' He took her by the shoulders then, when she persisted in avoiding his gaze, his thumb bruising her throat, forcing her to lift her chin. 'Be sensible, Ruth,' he snapped, 'and don't invite difficulties. Believe me, I can be nothing but trouble to you.'

'Trouble?' Ruth frowned then, her blue eyes wide and uncomprehending between the dark silky lashes. 'I don't know what you mean.'

T think you do,' he informed her brusquely, and she was intrigued by the sudden harshness of his mouth, and the erratic beating of a pulse just below his jawline. His lips were slightly parted, and the wine-scented odour of his breath came to her in uneven waves of sweetness, mingling with hers in a curiously disturbing coalescence. It was an intangible merging, a pervasive intrusion, that left her feeling weak and strangely vulnerable.

Yet she did nothing to break that aggressive contact, that tenuous embrace that Dominic was sustaining almost against his will it seemed. Even when his hands moved with controlled impatience against the thin cotton of her shirt, and strong fingers moulded the bones beneath the material, before tightening with painful intensity, she remained motionless as his breathing quickened to a laboured oscillation. Then holding her startled eyes with his, he jerked her towards him and bent his head to hers.

It was not like that other occasion when he had played with her lips, without any real satisfaction. This time, the hungry pressure of his mouth on hers was an unexpected assault, and the tongue that forced her lips apart was a moist and sensual invader. Every bone in her body seemed to melt beneath that passionate possession; she sagged heavily against him, depending on his support.

His hands slid round her waist, drawing her against him, and she could feel the hardening muscles of his thighs surging against her. She knew, instinctively, what that meant, but any resistance she might have offered was being negated by the searching pressure of his mouth against her neck. His hands threaded through her hair, drawing it across his lips, crushing it within his fist, caressing it and stroking it, until Ruth felt it almost had a life of its own.

But when his hands slid upwards, over her waist and the taut skin that covered her rib cage, to the swelling fullness of her breasts, a cry of protest broke from her. Allowing him to kiss her might be wrong, letting him press his aroused body close to hers might be wrong, but they were things she could excuse. This was not. Somehow, she didn't know when, he had released her shirt from the waistband of her skirt, and those long brown fingers she had watched combing his hair, and massaging his arm. and eating his food, were now curving around her naked breast, beneath the concealing covering of her shirt. What was more, they were caressing her, kneading her firm softness, plucking at the roseate peak that surged against her shirt in shameless vanity.

'Please—you mustn't,' she begged, trying to push his hand away, but Dominic's eyes were dark and unyielding.

'Why mustn't I?' he demanded, in a shaken voice. | 'Why mustn't I touch you? You know you want me to. Unbutton your shirt, and let me see.'

'No!' Ruth's tongue circled her lips in innocent provocation. 'Dominic, we have to go back. It's getting late. Please—you must listen to me!'

'I'm listening,' he said, but as he did so, he slid the offending shirt off one shoulder, exposing the creamy skin to his urgent gaze. With his tongue, he traced the tender outline of the bones beneath her skin, then beat a searing path up the side of her neck, to bite the shell-like lobe that framed her ear. By the time he had explored the hollows beneath her ear, Ruth felt as if she was on fire, and she turned her face eagerly towards him. seeking the sensuous pleasure of his mouth.

She realised that her shirt was unbuttoned, and the body hair that formed a fine mat on his chest was abrasive against her breasts. Yet it was not an unpleasant abrasiveness, and for the first time, her hands went involuntarily to him, seeking to feel the texture of his skin. He had unfastened his shirt to the waist, and her fingers slid beneath its softness, spreading against the smooth tautness of his back. She felt the tension in him, the coiled spring of emotion that was rapidly getting out of control, and knew a curious satisfaction that she was the cause of it.

'Ruth,' he groaned, against her mouth, 'I want you. I want to make love to you. Are you going to stop me?'

Ruth quivered, her whole being aroused to such a pitch that his words were hardly comprehensible. 'You—you are making love to me,' she breathed, and he made a strangled sound, deep within his throat.

'No, I'm not,' he said, swinging her off her feet suddenly and into his arms. He looked down at her passionately, then bent to rub his lips against hers. 'I want to.' he added, his breath filling her mouth. 'I want to be a part of you. However, I've no intention of seducing a virgin. That can be far too hazardous!'

Ruth looked up at him, her lips parted, the delicate curve of her body outlined within his grasp. 'Dominic?' she pleaded, half confused even now. and his eyes closed against the unconscious appeal of her.

'Home,' he articulated at last, through clenched teeth, setting off across the sand. 'Back to sanity. Back to your father.'

Ruth struggled in his grasp. 'Put me down.' she protested. 'I—I'm too heavy. Your arm—'

'My arm can make it,' he retorted dryly, his features taut, and then swore angrily when he stumbled over an exposed root. The impetus of his momentary loss of balance was too much for him, accentuated as it was by her weight in his arms, and they pitched together on to the sand, collapsing in an ungainly heap. 'Hell. I'm sorry,' Dominic exclaimed, as constricted sounds escaped Ruth's lips, but his contrition turned to anger when he found she was not crying, as he had at first thought, but laughing.

'I could have broken your neck.' he exhorted her harshly, leaning over her as she lay prostrate on the soft dunes. 'My God. that would really have been something to tell your father, wouldn't it?' His hand brushed back the dark hair from her forehead. 'He'd never have forgiven me for that either.'

Ruth captured his hand, drawing it with intuitive sensuality to her mouth. 'I'm sorry.' she whispered. 'But you were so certain that you could make it.'

Dominic's eyes dropped the length of her. lying relaxed beside him, and they darkened imperceptibly. 'Oh, I could make it.' he averred, unable to prevent himself from seeking the pointed thrust of one rounded breast, seizing it between his lips, his tongue coaxing it to wild abandon. 'You were made for a man's delectation, but not mine—
nor
mine.'

Ruth's body seemed to have a mind of its own. shifting beneath him. arching towards the thrusting hardness of his with all the instinctive eagerness of untried youth. Her hands found his nape, gathering handfuls of his hair to pull his mouth back to hers, parting her lips and letting her tongue entwine with his as he had taught her to do.

Dominic was not proof against such unknowing sensuality. She sensed his arousal in the uneven pounding of his heart, thudding against hers, in the slight tremor of his limbs as he hovered above her, in the hungry desperation of his gaze as he strove to keep his head. His brain was telling him one thing, but his eyes told another story, and the lissom form that strained towards him demanded his possession.