Revenge by Seduction Page 10

  For an instant their eyes met as he caught her looking at him, and she fixed her eyes hurriedly back on the road. Her thin skirt had ridden too far up her thighs and she wriggled in her seat and pulled at the hem until it was demurely just above her knees.

  They’d soon be at the hotel and her heart began to beat just that little bit faster. What was she going to do if he went ahead and booked only one room? Should she just give in, telling herself that she was doing it against her will because of his threat? But that wouldn’t be the truth, would it? The truth was that there was something stirring…something beginning to send little signals throughout her body. Something which had a memory of a night in London and was demanding to be refreshed.

  She tried to ignore it but it wouldn’t leave, and at every turn of the wheel it became stronger and more urgent. It must be the heat, she decided. She’d give anything for a long, cool dip in a river. Anything to stop her fevered imagination tormenting her like this. She concentrated furiously on the road ahead, but the ghost of his reflection was on the windscreen.

  Supposing she did agree to spend the night with him, as he was demanding. That was all he wanted, wasn’t it? When it was over he’d lose all interest in her as he’d done before and find someone else. After that he’d be someone else’s problem. But could she live with herself afterwards, knowing that she’d given in willingly because of her own weakness? Worst of all would be the knowledge that he had won in the end and that all her promises and plans for revenge had come to nothing. She would just become another one of his victims, used not once but twice, and then discarded while he sailed off triumphantly into the sunset with another colour nailed to his mast.

  The fact that she was even contemplating allowing him to have his way with her again filled her with contempt for her lack of character and self-discipline. Surely no man, no matter how sexually attractive he might be, should have that effect on a woman? If she was sensible she had to keep in mind that there was more to a relationship than that. What about true love…and compassion…and self-sacrifice? Those were the things that really mattered in the end, weren’t they?

  He glanced at the dashboard to check the mileage, then grunted, ‘We should be there in ten minutes. Let’s hope they’ve got something decent on the menu. Are you hungry, Catriona?’

  ‘Not particularly,’ she murmured, keeping her eye on the road. She should have been, but in the last few minutes her thoughts had found something more important to worry about than the mundane matter of food.

  He grinned at her, and her hands tightened nervously on the wheel as he declared, ‘I’m ravenous. I’m looking forward to something really tasty.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE Pine Lodge was one of those grand, early Victorian houses built as a summer retreat for some long-forgotten captain of industry from the English Midlands. Although the interior had undergone a thorough modernisation, the exterior, with its arched windows and long, flagged terrace, still bore witness to a gentler age of elegance and style. It lay between the road and the broad, fast-flowing river to the rear.

  Catriona swung the car into the car park and came to rest between a Range Rover and a Volvo estate, then took the keys from the ignition and passed them to Ryan. It was a silent and symbolic gesture meant to show that for the moment at least her job was finished and that he had no further call on her services. Whether he’d pay any attention was another matter, of course.

  They’d both undid their seat belts, and she was on the point of opening her door when she paused and said quietly, ‘Look…I didn’t bring a bag with me and my hair is a mess. I don’t suppose you’ve got a comb I could borrow, have you?’

  He studied her without criticism, then said, ‘You should have kept your window shut. I see what you mean. Well, we can’t have you going in to lunch looking like a gypsy wench after a fight with a game-keeper.’ He lifted his jacket from the rear seat and searched in the inside pocket. ‘Here you are. Try this.’

  If there was one thing she was fussy about it was using someone else’s towel or comb, and she peered at it suspiciously. Thankfully, but not surprisingly, it was faultlessly clean. With muttered thanks she began untangling her long red tresses. When she’d finished she handed the comb back and said, ‘If I’d known we were going to stop for lunch at a place like this I’d have worn something decent.’

  Again his eyes travelled over her in that provocative way they had. The way that brought her out in a rash and hot flushes. ‘You look perfectly charming to me,’ he said with straight-faced sincerity. ‘A picture of young, unsullied innocence, as the Reverend McPhee might say.’

  There was a stinging reply she could have made to that, but she let it go and followed him in tight-lipped silence towards the entrance. She badly needed a drink. Something in a tall, frosted glass with lots of ice, which would take away the sticky dryness in her mouth.

  They crossed the car park and went into the hotel. While he made enquiries at the reception desk she looked around the main foyer. There was a boutique and the inevitable souvenir shop, and another devoted entirely to fishing tackle. Above a huge open fireplace—thankfully unlit at this time of the year—a salmon the size of a baby shark was stuffed and mounted in a glass case. There was a brass plate saying that the fish had been caught in 1960 in the river to the rear. There was nothing like giving your customers a bit of inspiration and motivation for staying another few days, she thought wryly.

  She watched Ryan chatting with the pretty blonde receptionist, who seemed to be having trouble looking cool and efficient and kept wetting her cupid’s bow lips with the tip of a pink tongue. Poor fool, she thought. If only she knew who she was trying to impress. The Lothario of London…Jack the Stripper. She wouldn’t be fluttering her eyelashes at him then.

  Finally he came over with a satisfied look on his face. ‘The place is only half full so there’s no trouble with accommodation. The dining room won’t be open again until dinner this evening, but they serve bar lunches in the lounge.’

  At the mention of the word ‘accommodation’ she should have put her foot down, but she hadn’t, and now she found herself staring at him, tongue-tied with indecision. The matter was taken out of her hands when he gripped her arm and led her towards the lounge. She swallowed nervously. It wasn’t too late. He hadn’t gone ahead and booked a room yet. She would find a chance some time during the meal to refuse and make her feelings clear to him. But time was getting short.

  They found a table at a window overlooking the river and a waiter instantly appeared. Ryan ordered a whisky and soda for himself and a chilled lemon and lime for her, then they both consulted the menu.

  ‘I think I’ll try the venison steak,’ he said. ‘It should be good in this part of the country.’

  She chose a ploughman’s lunch without the cucumber, then tried to compose herself as the waiter hurried away. Glancing around the room, she saw that most of the customers were middle-aged men of the hunting and fishing type. The few women she could see were dressed in tweed suits and sensible brogues. A boring but thoroughly respectable lot. They’d have raised their hands in horror if they only knew what was going on at this table, she thought. Blackmail, sex and scandal, no less.

  When the drinks came she took a hurried gulp at hers. The chill pained her temples but it also brought inspiration, and she smiled at him innocently. ‘You won’t find any hotels up here who’ll take guests who arrive without luggage of some sort.’

  ‘Even if they pay in advance?’ he asked, equally innocently.

  She gave a self-righteous frown. ‘Especially if they offer to pay in advance. Unlike the hotels you frequent in London, they’re very old fashioned about “that” type of guest. More so if he’s in female company.’ She looked down at her left hand and said dryly, ‘Surely it must be quite obvious to everyone that we aren’t married.’

  For a moment his brow furrowed at this obstacle to his plans, then it cleared and he said briskly, ‘Then it’s lucky for us that I still
have a large suitcase in the boot of the car. It’s only full of my clean shirts and socks and underwear, but I doubt if they’ll go to the lengths of looking inside. And neither will they be looking for a wedding ring. Hotel staff hate to embarrass their guests by asking awkward questions. Anyway, if you don’t go around flaunting your left hand no one will be any the wiser.’

  She scowled back at his mocking grey eyes. ‘And what am I supposed to wear?’ she demanded. ‘I have nothing but what you see me in. I haven’t even got a comb, for heaven’s sake!’

  ‘I’m sure the hotel can provide anything you need. There are shops in the foyer, aren’t there? When we’ve booked in you can pick up anything you require and put it on the bill.’ He sipped at his whisky and suddenly his voice became softly threatening. ‘You’re trying desperately to think up every obstacle you can to prevent the inevitable, but it won’t work and you’re beginning to try my patience again.’ He withdrew the car keys from his pocket and laid them on the table. ‘You can make your choice now, Catriona. Either you agree to spend the night here with me or you can drive me back to Kindarroch as soon as we’ve had lunch. When we get there I’ll pick up the rest of my belongings and get out of your life for ever—but not before I’ve nailed up copies of that picture in the hotel bar, the post office, and on the church noticeboard.’

  Looking into those hard eyes, she knew it wasn’t merely a threat. It was an ultimatum. For an instant her hands clenched, then the anger seemed to leave her, only to be replaced by a curious feeling of relief. Now she could honestly say that she’d tried her best. Whatever happened now, at least her conscience was clear.

  ‘All right,’ she said in tired surrender. ‘You’ve got me exactly where you want me. I’ll not have you break my parents’ hearts. But everyone has a conscience, Ryan. Even you. I just hope that some day it’ll come back to haunt you as you deserve.’

  He treated her to a thin, sardonic smile. ‘I doubt that very much. In years to come I’m sure I’ll have fond memories of this night.’ He raised his glass in a mock toast. ‘Here’s to sweet revenge. You must have thought much the same when you made a fool of me in Cardini’s.’

  There wasn’t much she could say to that, so she shifted uncomfortably in her seat and studiously avoided looking at him.

  When the meal came she picked away daintily at hers, trying to drag it out as long as possible. On the other hand he had cleared his plate ten minutes ago, and now he sat watching her in amused silence as she chased the last pickled onion around the plate with her fork. Suddenly he reached over, grabbed the pickle between his finger and thumb and held it to her mouth. Their eyes met and held, and finally she parted her lips and accepted it.

  He grinned at her and remarked casually, ‘There are some men who are put off kissing by the smell of onions on a girl’s breath. Speaking from experience, it’s never bothered me. I guess you’re lucky.’

  ‘Am I?’ she asked dryly. ‘Perhaps I should have asked for garlic.’

  He gave a taunting smile. ‘That’s for protection against vampires. But don’t worry. I won’t bite your neck during the night. I’m not giving guarantees about any other part of your body, however.’

  She flushed, and hissed at him over the table, ‘Stop saying things like that! It…it’s…’ She tried to think of a word but he cut in.

  ‘It’s getting you all flustered? Yes, I can see that.’ He grinned. ‘Well, just pretend that you’re Trixie Trotter for the night. She wouldn’t be the least bit embarrassed, would she?’

  She wondered if it wouldn’t be wiser just to keep her stupid mouth shut. Every time she spoke she was just providing him with more ammunition to fire.

  They left the bar and returned to the foyer. Gesturing towards the shops, he said, ‘Have a look around and pick out anything you need. I’ll get the case from the car and sign us in.’

  He strode off and left her as if the whole thing was cut and dried. For a moment she just stared after him helplessly, then, reminding herself that she had already made the decision and that it was cut and dried after all, she composed herself with a deep breath and made her way over to the shops.

  In the first shop she bought a comb, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and various other toiletries which took her fancy. But it was in the boutique where the real spending began. After all, he was paying, and if he wanted her to act like Trixie Trotter she’d go ahead and spend like Trixie Trotter.

  By the time Ryan returned and found her she was waiting, feeling a little smug and pleased with herself, while the salesgirl wrapped up her purchases.

  ‘Have you got everything you need, darling?’ he asked pleasantly, casting a benevolent eye over the clutch of carrier bags on the counter.

  She returned his smile. ‘Yes, dear. I think so. But if I’ve forgotten anything I can always get them to send it up, can’t I?’

  ‘Of course you can, sweetheart.’

  She took the hastily made up invoice from the flustered and envious salesgirl and handed it to him with an innocent smile. ‘You’ll see to this, will you, dear?’

  ‘Certainly, my precious.’ Barely glancing at it, he pulled out his chequebook and remarked humorously, ‘I’m glad to see the treatment is working at last.’ Then he leaned over the counter and said to the salesgirl in a confidential whisper which could be heard a hundred yards away, ‘She used to be a terrible shopaholic. A really hopeless case. The result of a deprived childhood. I could never let her out on her own.’

  Catriona gave him an icy look, then grabbed the carrier bags and marched back into the foyer. The porter took them up in the lift and showed them to the room, where Ryan gave him a generous tip then firmly closed the door.

  The room was comfortably furnished and carpeted and provided a magnificent view back down the glen. She examined the bathroom carefully and found it pristine and shining. Standing on tiptoe, she ran a finger along the top of the strip lighting over the sink. Back in the main room she did the same thing to the windowledges and chair-backs.

  When she’d finished her inspection he said dryly, ‘How about the top of the picture rail? I’ll lift you up if you like.’

  ‘I hate slovenly housekeeping,’ she told him calmly. ‘If you’ve spent most of your time living in hotels you’re probably used to it, but I’m particular where I sleep.’ She marched over to the bed…it would be a four poster, wouldn’t it?…and pulled back the duvet. The sheets looked crisp and snowy white.

  ‘Well…?’ he queried. ‘Good enough for you? Or would you rather we tried it out first before making up your mind?’

  Ignoring that remark, she took one final look around the room, then said, ‘I’m going to shower and change. I suggest you make yourself scarce for half an hour or so. Go down to the bar or take a walk outside.’

  He remained where he was, so she repeated herself sharply, adding, ‘Go on, then! Don’t just stand there.’

  You had to admire her style, he thought. And, looking at that determined little mouth and the imperious tilt of the head, he was more determined than ever to bite through that hot, peppery crust and get to the soft and utterly feminine creature below.

  ‘There’s no hurry,’ he said easily. ‘I reckon this is as good a time as any to sit down for a while and talk things over.’

  He was quite prepared for the raw suspicion in her eyes when she demanded, ‘What things?’

  ‘This and that,’ he offered with a nonchalant shrug and an open smile meant to put her at her ease. ‘We can surely exchange points of view like two civilised people, can’t we?’

  ‘I already know what your point of view is,’ she said tartly. ‘Regarding women, in particular. And it certainly isn’t civilised.’

  He could see he was going to have his work cut out here, but in all fairness he supposed he couldn’t blame her—even though she had been a major contributor to her own predicament. He’d tried earlier on to put the record straight but she hadn’t given him a chance. She was an impulsive little fire-brand who believed
in shooting from the lip. Still, there was no harm in trying again.

  ‘Look…’ he said patiently. ‘Don’t be such a bad-tempered little…’ He stopped, realising by the way she bristled that he’d pressed the wrong button again, and he listened in exasperation to her outburst.

  ‘Is it any wonder I’m bad-tempered?’ she demanded hotly. ‘First of all you…and then you…’

  He only half listened to her tirade, in which she likened him to everyone from Caligula to Vlad the Impaler, and watched her in fascination. She really was a sight to behold, he thought. She had…. Chutzpah! That was the word. Why the hell hadn’t he met someone like her years ago?

  She was still putting him through the shredder, and he grinned as she slowly ran out of steam. ‘…means nothing to you,’ she said breathlessly. ‘There’s only one thing on your mind. You know it and I know it. First it’s threats of blackmail…now you want me to sit down and listen to more of your lies, hoping that I’ll be stupid enough to…to…’ She drew a deep breath, then pointed a quivering finger at the door. ‘Now please go and allow me to have my shower.’

  He grinned again. There was more than one way to skin a cat—or to prove a point to someone who was too stubborn to listen. Miss Catriona McNeil needed her claws trimmed a little.

  He slowly removed his jacket, then loosened his tie.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she asked, eyeing him uncertainly.

  He was unbuttoning his shirt now. ‘Getting undressed, of course. We may as well shower together.’

  Her eyes widened in trepidation. ‘Shower together!’ She gulped. ‘Certainly not! ‘It…it’s…’

  She’d been going to say ‘indecent,’ but he butted in. ‘It’s practical. We can sponge each other’s backs.’

  He advanced on her slowly, then laid his hands gently on her shoulders and looked down deeply into her eyes. ‘I’m sure you’ll enjoy the experience,’