The Innocent's Sinful Craving

He said quite gently, ‘If only that were true. But we both know it is not. Nor that simple.’

‘I know nothing of the kind,’ she said curtly, aware of his scrutiny and wishing her robe was infinitely thicker. And that she did not have to walk past him to reach the door.

And, more importantly, that she’d stayed safely in her room in the first place.

‘Then consider it now.’

As he spoke, another flash of lightning blazed into the room through the uncurtained windows and the lamp on the desk went out, leaving them first dazzled, then in total darkness.

Dana gasped. ‘What’s happened?’

‘A local power cut.’ His tone was laconic. ‘The storm playing havoc with the electrics. It often happens, as I am sure you remember.’

Yes, she thought, but she hadn’t bargained for it to happen here and now.

She said quickly, ‘I’d better go back to my room.’

‘Why the haste?’ He paused. ‘After all, we have been alone in the dark before, you and I.’

As if she could have forgotten, she thought shakily. And it was not a situation she could afford to repeat.

He hadn’t moved. She would swear to that, but she felt that he was somehow nearer. As if the walls of the room were closing in on them, and she needed to get out—to get away in the same way that she needed to draw her next breath.

She thought, I have to be safe.

She began to edge towards where she thought the door should be, only to catch her foot in something lying on the floor—oh, God, his bloody coat—and stumble forward, her balance gone.

Only to find herself grabbed and steadied, then held in the circle of his arms, feeling his warmth, inhaling the haunting trace of the cologne he still used after all this time. Aware that his grasp was tightening.

Panic closed her throat.

‘Let go of me, damn you.’ She choked the words then struck upwards, her hands curled into claws, finding taut skin stretched over bone and a hint of stubble.

She felt Zac wince, heard him swear under his breath before he stepped back, freeing her.

Another jagged flash lit up the room, and gathering the folds of her robe in clumsy hands, Dana ran to the door and across the wide hall to the stairs.

She tripped twice, clutching at the smooth oak bannister rail, almost hauling herself, panting, from step to step in case he was there behind her, following silently, cat-like, in the stifling darkness.

Wondering, if his hand fell on her shoulder, if she would have breath enough to scream and what she would say if she did and people came. How she could possibly explain when the real explanation must remain hidden. For ever.

In her room, with the door closed and the key turned in the stiff lock, she picked up the discarded coverlet from the floor and rolled herself in it, pulling a fold over her head and lying still, waiting for her heartbeat to slow and the rasp of her breathing to subside into normality.

But her cocoon provided no protection at all against the soft trembling deep within her, or the thoughts and memories she could no longer exclude from her consciousness, however hard she might try.

And, perhaps, in order to be free, she should allow her mind to travel back over seven years and—remember.

* * *

She should not even have been at Mannion that summer. Aunt Joss had visited the school to tell her with faint awkwardness about the planned alternative.

‘My friend Mrs Lewis has found you a job through her employment agency. A Mrs Heston needs an au pair to look after her eight-year-old girl and twin boys aged three. You’ll live as family and Mrs Heston will make sure you keep up with any holiday work set by the school.’

‘But I don’t want to spend my vacation with a bunch of strangers,’ Dana protested. ‘Nicola’s expecting me to come home with her. They’re having lots of people to stay, and there’ll be parties. And it’s Adam’s birthday.’

‘Thank you,’ said her aunt. ‘But I’m well aware of the social arrangements, as I shall be bearing the brunt of them.’

‘If I was there, I could help.’

‘I doubt that.’ Aunt Joss paused. ‘You have been excellent company for Nicola in the past, but you’re not children any more and you’re going to be leading very different lives, especially when Mrs Latimer’s arrangements over the house are complete.’

She meant when Adam took over.

As if Dana didn’t know that. As if it hadn’t been at the forefront of her mind since she’d first heard the news that her mother’s claim was being passed over yet again.

Something she would never accept.

Lying in her narrow bed at night, her brain seething, she’d invented and rejected all kinds of scenarios, but in the end it always came back to Adam.

She had never expected him to notice her, except as his younger sister’s friend and schoolmate, but thanks to Nicola that had changed a couple of years before, when Adam had come down to Mannion with a party of friends during the girls’ half-term break, and an impromptu tennis tournament had been organised.

Nicola had immediately turned down Adam’s invitation to partner him. ‘You should ask Dana,’ she’d declared. ‘She’s in the school team and a hundred times better than I am.’

If Adam was surprised at having the housekeeper’s niece foisted on to him, he hid it politely. In gratitude, Dana played out of her skin, and they ended as runners up in the tournament.

‘You should have won,’ said Zac Belisandro, who’d strolled down to watch the later stages. He looked at Adam. ‘You poached too many balls at the net, my friend, and failed to put them away.’

Dana felt a surge of resentment. He might be Serafina’s cousin and a ruthless and dynamic business tycoon, but she hated the way he appeared to stroll through life as if it had been created for his private amusement.

He was someone she tried to avoid when he was at Mannion—and he was there a lot.

‘It’s not Adam’s fault,’ she said impetuously. ‘He knows volleying isn’t my strong point and he was trying to protect me.’

There was a silence, then Zac’s brows rose. ‘Ah,’ he said softly. Mockingly. ‘So that is how it is.’ He turned back to Adam. ‘Serafina wishes to remind you there is tea on the terrace.’

‘Right, my shield and defender.’ Adam slid a casual arm round her shoulders. ‘Tea we shall have, and with strawberries and cream, even if this isn’t Wimbledon.’

Glowing, she allowed herself to be swept along.

She wasn’t invariably his partner that summer or the two that followed, but often enough to count, and to fill her with joyous anticipation at the start of every school holiday, as she waited for his usual visit. Then waited again for him to notice her and smile.

By the time she was seventeen, she was well past any lingering trace of puppy fat, spots or greasy hair. She had changed and so had the way that Adam had begun to look at her, his gaze considering, lingering and filling her with secret excitement.

Because he was acknowledging, she told herself exultantly, that she’d become a woman.

And he’d sealed his discovery by the kiss under the mistletoe they’d shared that Christmas in an unexpected moment of privacy. A kiss that had lengthened. Deepened, hinting at something far more, leaving her breathless.

‘My God,’ he’d whispered huskily as, reluctantly, they parted. ‘You’re full of surprises, Dana, my sweet, and I want to explore them all.’