Today, Tomorrow and Forever Read online

  'I see.' Shanna rose hurriedly to her feet. 'If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go to bed now. It's quite late——'

  'From anyone else I might take that as an invitation,' he mocked, his glance impaling her to the spot.

  'Don't even think it!' she burst out.

  'As I said, from anyone else . . . Are you really tired?' he demanded on another note. 'Or is it a ploy to shut me up?'

  Honesty made her nod. 'Actually, yes,' she replied stiffly. 'Surely you must know I've no wish to talk to you. About anything. Least of all your feelings about your wife. It's only because I'm trapped here, like a bird in a cage, that you've got this opportunity at all. And --'

  'Oh, do sir down, Shanna. I hate talking to people who hover over me --'

  'I am not "hovering"—'

  'No, you're too far away. Hovering implies crowding. And that's the last thing you're doing. Come here.' He didn't move. But his eyes held hers, compelling her to obey.

  'Certainly not,' she managed to protest. 'I --'

  'Come here. Come and sit beside me.'

  'No, I won't. I --'

  'Shanna, do come . . .' He patted the space by his side. 'Come here, Shanna.'

  For an interminable moment she felt the power of his will drawing her towards him and her limbs seemed to have no volition of their own. But a picture of what would inevitably follow when he put his arms around her made her bring all her resistance to bear. With a toss of her head, she plumped abruptly into the armchair again.

  There was a slight pause in which his eyes mocked hers, before he said, 'Well, at least you're not going off to your solitary bed just yet awhile.'

  'If you think you've won some battle of wills, Paul Elliot, you can think again. I'll give you five minutes to say whatever it is you have to say, then,' she looked at her watch, 'I am definitely turning in. Alone.'

  'What I love about you, Shanna, is your clear-eyed view of life. Only possible, I think, because you've never been faced with a moral dilemma before. Not until now, that is. I wonder,' he went on before she could break in, 'whether your clear-eyed approach will stand you in good stead when the chips jure down?'

  'What chips?'

  'You know what chips ... I want you. I feel something powerful for you. I know you feel something for me—maybe it's only lust, who knows, it's far too soon to tell, but it's there whether you'll admit it or not. And sooner or later, darling, I'm going to have you and you'll give, yourself to me fully and willingly. And that,' he concluded, 'is a promise.'

  'I --' Her mouth opened and closed like a fish. 'You certainly lay it on the line,' she managed to croak, trying to look affronted. Her pulses in fact raced with a ferocious speed to hear him put into words what she longed for with all her soul. 'Of course, you're wrong.

  It will never happen,' she countered, dropping her gaze to the fingers twisting in her lap. Vainly trying to summon up the anger she knew she ought to feel, she took a shuddering breath, but her mind was bereft of the appropriate words, leaving her gazing speechlessly at the floor.

  'I know I'm married. It's am obstacle --'

  'That's no understatement!' She gave a hard laugh.

  'So let's see how you cope with it, shall we?' His mouth twisted cruelly and he leaned forward to say, 'How pure is Miss Purity when really tempted?' His mocking voice scarcely rose above a whisper. 'How strong are your principles, my dear?'

  She thought he was going to come over to her and she braced herself for his touch, but to her surprise he remained where he was, just looking at her, that smile, both tender and dangerous, playing around his lips.

  'You think you'll test me and I'll fail. What a hope,' she muttered. 'I've no intention of giving in to you, so that's all there is to it.'

  'Look at it another way, my sweet baby, not as giving in to me, but as giving in to yourself— of giving yourself what you really desire above all else.' He chuckled. 'And if that sounds conceited, you ought to be sitting where I am. You have the most speaking eyes of anyone I've ever seen.' He paused. 'They tell me what you're really feeling much more honestly than your lying lips . . .'

  When she gave a start of anger he laughed again. 'You look so soft and vulnerable, Shanna, I do adore you. Your eyes are like great big kitten's eyes, slightly wide with fright, but full of mischief too when the situation's right. I want you to give in to that playful nature of yours, enjoy it, Shanna, while you've got youth and health and beauty, because otherwise one day you'll wake up and find it all gone and you'll be left with nothing but yearnings for what might have been, and believe me, that's the saddest feeling in the world . . .'

  'If you think you can seduce me with words, Paul, you're in for a grave disappointment,' she argued, glancing up quickly and away again. It was as if she had been tied to the chair. She couldn't have got up and walked out if she'd tried.

  'There, that little frightened kitten look- it makes me want to protect you, to hold you, dear, sweet creature, and keep you safe from harm. Trust me, Shanna. Let me take care of you.'

  'As your mistress?'

  'To begin with.'

  'You mean you're going to use that old ploy?'

  'Which one?' He looked interested, his eyes sharpening.

  'The one men always use. Be my little playmate, please, followed by a promise of something more permanent in the future. A promise never to be kept. Just like your marriage vows --'

  'That's a ploy you've come across often, is it?' he asked, a flash of anger roughening his tone.

  'Not personally.' She tossed her head as if to say, Would she be so gullible? and went on, 'But I'm not so ignorant that I don't know what men say in order to get their own way --'

  'You're so sweet.' His anger was quickly replaced by the familiar bantering smile. 'Does all your knowledge come from cheap magazines?'

  'Not at all!' she replied, cheeks flushing hotly. It was true she felt the gap in her experience and sometimes wondered if she appeared naive. Paul had obviously done a lot more living than she had. So, too, had Rowanna, judging by the photograph. They lived in the fast stream, jet-set, cosmopolitan. She was out of her depth here and she knew it.

  'Let me go, Paul. What possible satisfaction can you get from seducing someone against their will?'

  'I don't intend to. I merely want you to discover your will. To be yourself. Not some clone, pieced together from half-truths and puritanical inhibitions.'

  'Perhaps that's the read me,' she suggested coldly, wishing he wouldn't try to put doubts in her head.

  'Is it?' He laughed softly. 'I have reason to think differently.'

  'No reason,' she flared, 'except your own lustful wishes! Well, keep wishing, because you'll never get me round to your way of thinking!'

  'Let's have some music,' he suddenly suggested, getting to his feet and going over to the elaborate stereo. 'What do you like?'

  'Anything,' she muttered, glad that the conversation had taken a change of direction. She watched him riffle along the shelves of discs, finally selecting one and slipping it on to the turntable with a little smile playing around his lips.

  'Now, that's better,' he said as the mellow chords of a guitar filled the room. 'Maybe it'll help you relax,' he suggested, going over to his own chair again and lolling back with his eyes closed and a look of contentment on his face.

  Shanna let the music wash over her in a seductive murmur of sound, wishing he had chosen something less romantic and knowing full well that it had been a deliberate choice. Yet now he seemed to be drifting off in a world of his own, scarcely aware that she was sitting, not at all relaxed, only yards away.

  Her own thoughts began to drift under the influence of the music, mingling haphazardly with the words of the song. It was something about a girl sitting at a window looking out at the world as it passed her by. A Lady of Shalott theme, she registered, and maybe Paul is trying to say something to me through the song. He seems to think I get all my experience second-hand, through a distorting mirror of false morality. But am I watchin
g the world go by, keeping a safe distance? Uninvolved? Aloof? Just because I say no doesn't mean I don't feel ... I really can't say yes. There's Rowanna. And she needs him. She must do. It's unfair of him to feel bored or irked because she's ill. That's what marriage means: for better, for worse, in sickness and in health.

  She looked across at him and blushed to find his eyes fixed intently on her face.

  'Is it the legal fact of marriage that bothers you, Shanna, or the thought that I might be sleeping with her?' His lips scarcely moved. She had to check to make sure she hadn't imagined the sound of his voice. He raised an eyebrow when she didn't reply straight away. 'Well, which?'

  She took a gulp of air. 'I thought you were asleep,' she hedged.

  'As you see, I'm not, so don't avoid the question.'

  'I'm not avoiding it. And you must know the answer—I mean, it's both, isn't it? I believe that if you make a promise you should keep it. Nothing would work if nobody kept their word.'

  'Do you think I don't agree with you? But it works both ways, you know. If somebody breaks an agreement with you, that invalidates your agreement with them, doesn't it?'

  She bit her lip. 'It would depend on circumstances.'

  'I see.' He smiled without humour. 'At least your principles aren't as inflexible as they seem.' He paused. 'You must have realised Rowanna and I don't sleep together any longer.' He quirked an eyebrow.

  Shanna flushed. How could his wife keep her hands off him?

  'What was the thought that flashed through your mind just then?' he demanded, eyes lazing over her sprawling body in a way that made her draw up her knees in self-defence. She tried to make it look as if she was changing one relaxed posture for another.

  'I wasn't really thinking of anything,' she fibbed.

  'Leaving it to my imagination, are you? Dangerous ploy, my sweet. You know what my imagination is like when you're around.'

  'As long as your thoughts stay firmly where they belong,' she replied, trying to look casual.

  'Did you realise we weren't together in that sense any longer?' he insisted.

  She shook her head. 'It doesn't really alter the situation. Obviously she needs you. I don't know much about agoraphobia, but it must make her feel pretty helpless.'

  'Must it?' His eyes were bleak again, chips of blue ice glittering in the light from the floor lamp by his chair. 'You know nothing, Shanna. Nothing.'

  'Then why don't you enlighten me?' she prompted. 'Isn't that why you came over, to talk to me? To see if you can persuade me to see things your way? But of course,' she went on, 'you don't really need to put it into words at all, do you? Naive and inexperienced as I am, I think I know how this particular line goes. It's something like this,' and, taking a deep breath, she began to talk with mock sincerity, saying, 'my wife doesn't really understand me and of course we never sleep together. I know you understand me, I can see it in your eyes. Of course I can't go into detail, it's too painful, but I'm sure you'll sympathise with me and give me what I want --'

  'Shut up! Just shut up!' His face was stark white, and what had begun as a malicious parody, a self-defensive measure, elicited an outburst that stunned Shanna into momentary silence.

  'You don't understand. I don't expect you to. And I'm emphatically not going to explain anything to you when you're in this mood!'

  'Then don't!' she sparked back when she'd recovered. 'Do you imagine I'm interested? Go to hell! You and your wife, both! Plus whatever bedtime arrangements you happen to have!'

  He leaned forward and reached for her wrist, yanking her roughly towards him so she was jerked down off the edge of the chair on to her knees, then he was leaning over her, his words hissing explosively into her ears. 'Stop behaving like a silly, stupid schoolgirl, Shanna. Show some understanding, can't you? Do you think I'm completely insincere? All right, I want to make love to you, and yes, I'm a man, and if I can tease you or cajole you into bed with me, I will, make no mistake. But I don't lie to you, Shanna. I've never lied to get a woman to love me. I mean everything I say. What I will not do is spin you some story to make you come to me for the wrong reasons. I don't want your pity, your sympathy, your moral judgements. You'll come to me despite your second-hand principles because you'll be driven into my arms by love and desire and overwhelming need. I won't have you under any other terms. But by God,' he paused, 'I know I could take you any time I chose if I was the type of man you seem to think I am.'

  He still held her by both wrists and he massaged them gently as if to emphasise his words. 'Do you imagine I'm so inexperienced I couldn't play you like a fish on a line?' His glance held hers and he went on, 'But that's the last way I want to take you.' His voice dropped to a whisper. 'When you come to me you're going to be aware of what you're doing, and if it's a choice between your schoolgirl morality and me, hell, it's going to be me you choose. Understand?'

  His face was chalk-white, inches from her own. She felt the surface of her skin yearn for his caress, but something hard resisted him and she fought to get away, surprised when he released his grip as abruptly as it had been imposed.

  'I'll never give up what I believe is right. No matter how --' she fumbled for the words that wouldn't make him think she was about to yield, 'however domineering you are,' she stated, finding one that seemed right. 'You'll find I won't be bullied,' she added. 'Not everybody can be. And I can't! I won't!'

  'Bullied? You don't know anything about bullying,' he told her. 'You don't imagine my grabbing your wrists constitutes bullying, do you? Bullying, dear child, on its more subtle level, involves wielding the stick and carrot of moral blackmail. You're an innocent, luckily, when it comes to that.' He seemed as if he was about to go on, and Shanna got the strongest feeling there was much more behind his words than appeared at face-value. He sounded as if he was hinting at some deep personal experience.

  She gave him a sharp glance. 'I can't imagine anybody getting far with the carrot and stick approach with you,' she muttered, surprised when he rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

  'One day, when there's nothing to be gained from telling you, you'll get the truth, the pure, unvarnished and horrid truth.' He spoke humorously, but again Shanna caught a fleeting glimpse of that bleak, blank, shuttered look with which he preserved his emotional privacy.

  'That'll be the day.' She scrambled back on to the chair and pulled her skirt down over her knees. The record came to a stop.

  'Is that what you want on next?' He hummed a few bars of the Buddy Holly number. 'Or would you prefer something a little more late-night?'

  She caught his glance and almost Smiled. He was teasing her and he looked irresistible like that, blue eyes bright and that sun-bleached hair rumpled from where he'd been lying back on the sofa.

  'It must be easy for a man like you. You just click your fingers and the girls come running.' She gave him a knowing look.

  'Well,' he said, his glance holding hers, 'you can't win 'em all!' He put another record on the turntable and Shanna bit her lip. It was one of her favourite smoochy melodies, and until now there had been no particular man in mind whenever she heard it. From this day on she knew it would always remind her of Paul, of what might have been. What if he's right? she thought suddenly. What if I regret saying no in a year or two? There'll never be anyone else like him.

  Her glance darted to where he was standing over by the window. He seemed reluctant to come and sit down, and with his face averted she could only guess at his mood. Something about the way his head was bent made her long to comfort him. But it was always the same thing holding her back. Despite what he had told her about Rowanna, she still felt it would not be right to unveil her true feelings. She had no right to do it.

  He lifted his head, swinging right round to look at her. 'I guess this will always be our song, Shanna. Whether fate brings us together or not.'

  She shuddered at how similar their thoughts had been, and he must have noticed the sudden revelation of what lay deepest in her heart before she turned away and pret
ended to smooth her skirt, for he said softly, 'I know, sweetheart, I know,' moving towards her with the silence of a cat, adding, 'It's hard, isn't it? Treading the straight and narrow?'

  Hardly daring to look up, she could feel him standing over her, tall and powerful.

  'Second thoughts? There's still time. The wind seems to be dropping, and when it does I shall have run out of excuses to keep you here any longer.'

  'I must get back as soon as I can --' she explained hurriedly.

  'To the boyfriend . . .'

  'You know there's no one,' she told him, raising her eyes. 'How could there be, now I've met you?' Her eyes glistened. There was so little time. He was right about that. Soon the chance would be gone forever and she could almost taste the regret on her tongue. 'Oh, Paul! I can't bear the thought of never --' she took a deep, shuddering breath, plunging on recklessly with, 'the thought of never seeing you again.'

  It was like the time she'd told him she thought she loved him. But this time the feeling was deeper. It was tried and tested. She had learned things about him which she would rather not know. Romance had been tempered with reality. But it still rushed her headlong into confessing her most heartfelt emotions. They were the same. To love once was to love forever.

  Bending down, he took both her hands in his and held them, carefully and caringly drinking in the sight of her upturned face, with its wide, wild fawn-eyes, the generous mouth made for loving and kissing, and the pale porcelain skin, blushing now with the power of the shared feelings hurtling between them.

  'It would take a saint to resist you, Shanna, and I'm no saint . . .' His grip tightened in a convulsion of desire scarcely reined in. 'Will you hate me if—tomorrow . . .' Instead of words, the thumb of one hand began to create little circles of pleasure inside the curled palm resting in his. Time seemed to expand like a bubble, enclosing them in a private world of touch, and somehow his arms were sliding around her, drawing her close into his protection, lips muffling into her dark hair, making her skin blaze with the premonition of what it would be like to be loved completely.