Ryan's Revenge

‘There’s nothing further to say. I’ll never come back to you, so you’re just wasting your time.’

As though she hadn’t interrupted, he went on, his voice quietly lethal, ‘And for another, I’m not prepared to let you keep running out on me.’

For the first time she realised he was furiously angry, and she quailed inwardly.

He stepped towards her, dwarfing her five feet seven inches, and with a hand beneath her chin, he forced it up. His eyes were focussed on her mouth, his dark face sharp and intent.

Guessing his intention, she begged, ‘No! Oh, please, Ryan, don’t…’

But his hand slid round to her nape, tangling in her silky hair, and his mouth swooped down on hers, taking possession, stifling any further protests.

The purse she had been clutching like a lifeline thudded to the floor and, despite all her efforts to hold aloof, the blood began to pound in her ears and the world tilted on its axis.

Head spinning, she was engulfed, gathered up and swept away on a tide of conflicting emotions, while every nerve ending in her body zinged into life.

At first his kiss was hard, punitive, a way of venting his anger, the arm clamping her to him like an iron band.

But when, scarcely able to stand, she made no attempt to break free, his arm loosened its hold slightly and, instead of being a punishment, his kiss became passionate, his skilful tongue sending shivers of excitement and pleasure running through her.

Leaving her nape, his hand slid inside the lapels of her robe, following her collarbone, moving down to find and fondle the soft curve of her breast.

He seemed to be deliberately avoiding the tip and, desperate for his touch, her whole being was poised in an agony of waiting.

When, finally, his experienced fingers began to lightly tease the sensitive nipple, causing sensations so exquisite they were almost pain, her stomach clenched and a core of liquid heat began to form in her abdomen.

Now he was making her feel all that he wanted her to feel, and he took her little gasps and whimpers into his mouth like the conqueror he was.

Lost and mindless, she was hardly aware when his free hand undid the belt and eased the robe from her shoulders, allowing it to fall at her feet.

His mouth had moved away from hers to rove over the smooth flesh he had exposed, when, shockingly, the doorbell rang.

Ryan’s recovery was light years ahead of Virginia’s. Stooping, he gathered up the robe and, wrapping it around her, gently hustled her across the hall and into the kitchen.

Pulling on the robe with shaking hands, she belted it tightly and, sinking down in the nearest chair, groaned aloud.

So much for holding out against him.

Oh, dear Lord, what had she been thinking of? If it hadn’t been for the interruption, Ryan could have taken her right there on the hall carpet and she would have allowed it.

No, more than allowed it, welcomed it.

Oh, you fool! she berated herself. She had planned to freeze him off, to make it clear that she was no longer under his spell.

Instead her abject surrender must have boosted his confidence, made him even more certain that he could win…

Only he mustn’t. Much as she wanted him—and she did still want him, maybe she always would—she mustn’t let him win.

Through her tumult of mind she was aware of the front door opening and Ryan’s voice saying, ‘Thanks. How much do I owe you?’

By the time he came through to the kitchen carrying a brightly coloured cardboard box with a handle, she had gathered the remnants of her dignity around her like a tattered cloak.

Standing up, she faced him squarely. ‘I want you to leave, now, this minute.’

Unpacking the various foil containers onto the pine table, he said mildly, ‘I like Chinese food and, as you appear to have ordered enough for two, it would be a shame to waste it.’

Looking dazedly at the number of containers, she realised that her repeat of the order had caused confusion and had resulted in them delivering far too much food.

Watching her face, he asked ironically, ‘Was it a Freudian slip? Did you subconsciously want or expect me to be here?’

‘No, I certainly didn’t. If I wanted anyone here, it would be Charles.’

She could tell by the way Ryan’s mouth tightened that her answer had annoyed him, but all he said was, ‘Do you have any bowls and chopsticks?’

‘In the cupboard,’ she answered shortly. He might insist on staying, but that didn’t mean she was prepared to make him welcome.

Slipping out of his jacket, he hung it over the back of a chair before opening the cupboard door.

Along with the bowls was a small electric hotplate. Infuriatingly at home, he took it out and, having plugged it in, arranged the foil containers on it.

Loosening the lids, he suggested, ‘Why don’t you sit down and tell me what you’d like to start with?’

Still standing, she said curtly, ‘I don’t want anything to eat. I’ve lost my appetite.’

He raised dark level brows. ‘That’s a pity. Still if you’re quite sure you don’t want to eat, we could always start a precedent.’

Alarmed by the silky menace in his tone, the glint in his eye, she demanded, ‘What do you mean, start a precedent?’

‘Don’t you think it would be a nice change to be carried upstairs and made love to in bed?’

All the fight going out of her, she sat down abruptly.

White teeth gleamed as he laughed. ‘No? Oh, well…’ Taking a seat opposite, he queried, ‘So what’s it to be? The sesame prawn toast looks good.’ Leaning towards her, he offered her a piece.

His dark silk shirt was open at the neck, exposing the strong column of his throat. Remembering how she had sometimes buried her face against it when he’d made love to her, her mouth went dry.

Lifting her eyes, she met his ironic gaze, and felt the colour flood into her cheeks.

‘You look warm,’ he observed innocently. ‘Do you have any nice cool wine?’

Somehow she managed to say, ‘There’s a bottle open in the fridge.’

He found a couple of glasses and filled them with Chablis. Then, having helped them both to chicken and cashew nuts, he picked up his bamboo chopsticks and, sorting out one of the fat, gleaming cashews, reached across the table.

Without conscious volition, her mouth opened and he popped it in.

His action was like a blow to the solar plexus, winding her and making her heart thump erratically.

Eating their first meal together in New York’s Chinatown, she had mentioned that she only ordered that particular dish because she adored cashew nuts.

Loverlike, he had fed her the nuts from his own bowl. After that it had become a kind of tender ritual.

Except, of course, that it had only been play-acting. He might have wanted her, he undoubtedly had, but he had never loved her, had never felt any real tenderness for her. He had just wanted to use her.

But she had refused to be used, though it had broken her heart to leave him…

As though following her train of thought, Ryan said abruptly, ‘You still haven’t told me why you ran the way you did.’

‘You ought to know.’

‘If it was what I can only presume it was—’

‘Did you think I wouldn’t mind?’ she burst out. ‘Think I’d play along, let you use me and say nothing?’

He frowned. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. You’d better explain.’

Infuriated by his denial, she jumped to her feet. ‘I’ve no intention of explaining anything. I want you to go, and if you won’t go, then I will!’

As she turned away, he said quietly, ‘Sit down and finish your meal.’

Their glances met and clashed.

She wanted to disobey his order, to walk away, but she couldn’t leave, and she found herself subsiding into her chair.

After a moment, he asked softly, ‘Why didn’t you at least let me know you were safe?’

‘Why do you suppose?’

‘You didn’t think I might worry about you?’

‘I tried not to think of you at all.’

‘What about the rest of the family?’

When she said nothing, he went on, ‘They were all very upset and concerned that you’d gone without a word. Beth in particular…’

‘I’m sorry about that. I liked your stepmother.’ It was the truth. In fact, with one exception, she’d liked the whole family.

‘She had another heart attack,’ he added flatly.

Virginia caught her breath.

Seeing the apprehension on her face, Ryan said quickly, ‘A fairly mild one, thank the Lord.’

‘Then, she’s all right?’

‘She made a good recovery. Which is just as well.’

‘You mean if she hadn’t, you would have held me responsible?’

‘I do hold you responsible.’

Virginia flinched at the bitter irony. It had been mainly to safeguard his stepmother’s fragile state of health that she had chosen to run as she did.

‘Do Janice and Steven?’

‘What do you think?’

Her heart sank. Still, it was better that they should blame her, a comparative stranger, rather than know something that would almost certainly tear their close-knit family apart.

One half of her still wondered incredulously how Ryan had been able to do what he did. But perhaps he’d found it impossible to help himself? Love could be a powerful, overriding force…

As could the need for revenge.

Though more sinned against than sinning, she had wrecked all his carefully laid plans and, in his own eyes at least, had made him look a fool.

Not something a man like him would easily forgive.

She shivered.

‘You’re surely not cold?’ Ryan asked.

‘No.’

‘Ashamed?’

‘Why should I be ashamed?’

‘I can think of several good reasons. First and foremost that you treated a woman, who had taken you to her heart, in such a callous fashion…’

Perhaps, in retrospect, she should have left a note, made up some excuse for going… But, shocked and stunned, feeling mortally wounded, she hadn’t known what to say.

‘I’m sorry if it seemed that way. I never meant to hurt her…’

A shrill bleating cut through her words.

‘Excuse me.’ Reaching into his jacket pocket he produced a mobile phone. ‘Falconer… It has? Good… Yes… Yes… Be with you shortly.’

Dropping the phone back in his pocket, he rose to his feet and pulled on his jacket. ‘I’m sorry I have to leave quite so soon.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t say the same,’ she informed him trenchantly.

Paying her back for her show of spirit, he came round the table and with studied insolence slipped his hand inside the lapels of her robe and cupped her breast.

Knowing that he was waiting for her to jump up and protest, summoning every last ounce of will-power, she sat still and silent.

Smiling a little, he bent his dark head and his mouth brushed hers. ‘When you’re in bed on your own tonight, dream that I’m making love to you.’

‘Not if I can help it,’ she spat at him.

‘If you’re frustrated enough, you might find it impossible not to.’

‘I’m not frustrated.’

Smiling, he rubbed his thumb over the nipple until it firmed. ‘You were always very responsive.’

Unable to stand any more, she jerked away and, dragging the lapels together, jumped to her feet. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something? Or should I say, someone?’

His blue-violet eyes narrowed.

‘Charles might not be a young man by your standards, but he’s fit and in his prime. If I am frustrated I won’t need to stay that way.’

She saw a white line appear round Ryan’s mouth and, fiercely glad that he was furious, laughed in his face.

With a sound almost like a growl, he took her upper arms, his fingers biting into the soft flesh, and warned softly, ‘Don’t even think about it. From now on I intend to be the only man in your life, so if Raynor does get any bright ideas about making love to you, it will pay you to say no, and mean it.’

Dragging her right up against him, he kissed her once more. This time his kiss was hard and unsparing, rocking her to her very foundations. Then suddenly she was free.

‘Be seeing you,’ he said mockingly.

A moment later she heard the front door open and close.

Badly shaken, she went through to the hall on unsteady legs. Ryan was gone, but she noted abstractedly that her purse had been picked up and placed neatly on the telephone table.

Trembling now as reaction set in, she sank down on the bottom step of the stairs and stared blindly into space while her thoughts whirled.

Oh, dear Lord, what was she to do? Ryan’s unwelcome visit had proved at least two terrifying things: that he was in deadly earnest; and that her chances of resisting him were practically nil.

It had been that way from the start. She had looked at him and had loved him, heart and soul.

Recognising at some deep, subconscious level that he was the one she had been waiting all her life for, she had given herself to him with a joyous certainty, and the hope of a happy ever after.

But that happy ever after had been short-lived. A bare two months from its rapturous start to its bitter ending…

And now, unless she could find some way of keeping Ryan at bay, the torture would start all over again.

She would still be there, and even if his feelings for the other woman—love or obsession, call it what one will—had died, the situation would still be quite intolerable.

No matter what he said about wanting only her, Virginia knew that she would never again be able to believe nor trust him. And he must know that… It might even be part of his revenge to have her on the rack of jealousy and torment…

No, no, she couldn’t, wouldn’t go back to him.

But, even as she tried to make herself believe it, she knew she was like a moth that, unable to help itself, was drawn irresistibly and fatally towards a candle flame.

CHAPTER THREE

GRITTING her teeth, she tried to reject that frightening image. Somehow she must help herself. Find a way out of still loving Ryan.

If only she had loved Charles enough to marry him… But it wasn’t so much a case of not loving Charles, as of still loving Ryan.

Though how could she go on loving a man who hated her? Who only wanted to hurt her? It was utter madness. That kind of self-destructive love could end up wrecking her whole life.

If she allowed it to.

But even if she was strong enough to hold out against him, all she had to look forward to was an empty future.

As far as she was concerned, love and sex went hand in hand. She wasn’t one for casual sex nor for affairs, but she was a young woman still with natural needs.

True those needs had been smothered and suppressed for over two-and-a-half years, but how quickly they had flared into life as soon as Ryan had kissed her.

If she didn’t want to live like a nun, marrying Charles, a man she was fond of and respected, was the obvious answer. She would be safe then, her future more hopeful, with the prospect of children and a happy, family life.

As for her reservations about it not being fair to him, well, she had told him honestly how she felt, and he’d said he was willing to try…

So why not? It might be no grande passion, at least on her side, but if she could make him happy…

The clock chiming eight roused her. With a bit of luck, Charles would be home in about half an hour.

Getting to her feet, she went back to the kitchen and, making a determined effort to think about the brighter future she had envisaged, rather than the unhappy past, began to wash up and clear away the debris of the meal.

She had only just finished and plugged in the kettle when she heard the sound of Charles’s key in the lock.

Hurrying through to the hall, she smiled at him. ‘You’re back nice and early.’

Hearing the relief in her voice, he was glad that he’d hurried straight home rather than going on to a pub, as his companion had suggested when their business was over.

‘How did your appointment go?’

‘Very well.’

‘That’s good.’

She sounded distracted, he thought, as though her mind was on other things.

Studying her pale, drawn face, he asked gently, ‘Headache still bothering you?’

‘No, not really. I took some tablets when I first got home. By the way, the kettle’s on if you’d like some coffee?’

‘Love some.’

Wearing the robe he had bought her, and with her curly hair tumbling around her shoulders, he thought she had never looked so lovely. Nor so fraught. Something had happened to seriously upset her.

Wondering if she wanted to talk about it, or if she would prefer to be alone, he asked carefully, ‘Were you thinking of having an early night?’

Shaking her head, she explained, ‘I didn’t bother getting dressed again after my shower.’

‘Then if you’re not off to bed, why don’t you have some coffee with me?’

‘Yes, I’d like to. There’s something I want to tell you.’

He hung up the jacket of his suit, and was starting to follow her into the kitchen when she said hastily, ‘I’ll bring it through to the living-room.’

The kitchen was still uncomfortably full of Ryan’s presence.

When she had filled the cafetière and had put the coffee things on the tray, she carried it in and set it down on the low table.

The west-facing room, always pleasant in the evening, was full of low sun, which threw a distorted pattern of oblong window panes and leafy branches onto the magnolia walls.

She poured the coffee, stirred sugar and cream into his, and handed it to him.

‘Thank you. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve being waited on,’ he remarked humorously.

Too tense to sit still, she left her own cup untouched and, wandering over to the window, stood looking out while the silence lengthened.

Now the moment had arrived, she had no idea how to broach the subject.

Watching her and guessing her difficulty, he said, ‘What was it you wanted to tell me?’

Still she hesitated. Suppose he’d had second thoughts about his proposal? Decided it had been a mistake?

Well there was only one way to find out. Turning, she took the bull by the horns. ‘When you asked me to marry you, you said if I ever changed my mind the offer would still be open…’

Thrown, because it was the last thing he’d expected her to say, it was a second or two before he assured her, ‘It is.’

As she let out the breath she’d been unconsciously holding, his blue eyes filled with a dawning hope, he asked urgently, ‘Have you changed your mind?’

‘Yes. I will marry you, if you still want me to.’

‘Darling!’ He was on his feet and gathering her close, eager as a boy. ‘Believe me, I’ve never wanted anything more.’

He held her firmly, with no sign of diffidence, and his kiss was pleasant, almost exciting.

After a while he stopped kissing her to ask, ‘What made you change your mind?’

‘Well, I…I got to thinking… I’d like a husband and a home and a family… You do want children?’ she added a shade anxiously.

‘I’d never actually thought about it,’ he answered honestly. ‘But if that’s what it takes to make you happy… How many were you thinking of?’ He sounded like a man on a high, a man who could hardly believe his luck.

‘At least two, possibly three or four.’

‘Why stop at four?’ he teased.

‘Charles… You are quite certain this is what you want? A wife and family, I mean?’

‘Quite certain. Forty-three isn’t too old.’

‘No, of course it isn’t.’

‘But I’m not getting any younger, so how soon will you marry me?’

‘As soon as you want.’

‘What kind of wedding would you like?’

‘A quiet one.’

‘You don’t want a white dress with all the trimmings?’

Knowing she must tell him the truth, she said flatly, ‘White is the sign of virginity.’

‘And you’re not a virgin?’

‘No. I’m sorry if that bothers you.’

‘My darling, I’m not Victorian enough to support the old double standard. Though I’ve been fairly circumspect in my dealings with women, I certainly haven’t lived like a monk, and I wouldn’t expect a woman of twenty-four never to have had lovers—’

‘Not lovers in the plural,’ she said quietly.

‘One special one?’

‘Yes.’

His heart sank. Several lovers that didn’t really matter was one thing… One special lover that, judging by her face, mattered a great deal was another.

Remembering Virginia’s reaction to the dark, powerful-looking man who had come into the gallery that afternoon, he said, ‘It was Ryan Falconer, wasn’t it?’

Moistening her dry lips, she nodded.

He drew her over to the settee and when she sank down on the soft cushions, took a seat by her side. ‘I think you’d better tell me about him.’

The last person she wanted to talk about just at that minute was Ryan, and half hoping for a reprieve, she stammered, ‘I—I don’t know where to start.’

‘Start at the beginning,’ Charles suggested quietly.

Seeing no help for it, she gathered herself, and began. ‘It’s getting on for three years since we first met. I’d left art school and was working in the Trantor Gallery, when late one morning a man came in…’

While she told him the bare bones of it, memory fleshed out the details and she relived the past as though it was the present…

The gallery was quiet, as it usually was towards noon, just an elderly couple browsing, and a small group of men in business suits discussing the relative merits of two abstract paintings.

Sitting behind the polished-wood reception desk, Virginia was checking the contents of a catalogue when the smoked glass door opened and a man came in and strolled across.

Tall and well-built, with thick dark hair that tried to curl a little, he was dressed in the latest smart-casual De Quincy jacket and handmade shoes.

As he got closer she could see he was somewhere in his early thirties, with a tough, masculine face, strong features and a beautiful mouth.

He was one of the most attractive men she had ever seen. No, more than just attractive, he was what Marsha would have termed drop-dead gorgeous.

‘Miss Adams?’ The most incredible blue-violet eyes, with faint laughter lines at the corners, smiled into hers.

Virginia found it quite impossible not to stare into those eyes and, instantly captivated, her mouth went dry, and her heartbeat quickened.

Wits scattered, she stammered, ‘Y-yes.’

‘My name’s Ryan Falconer. I’m acquainted with your parents.’

‘They live in New York,’ she said stupidly.

White teeth flashed in a smile. ‘Yes, I know, I had lunch with them a couple of days ago, and they told me where to find you…’

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