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protestingly, and gradually stopped her fierce, futile movements of
rejection.
When he lifted his mouth from hers, she was panting, exhausted and
frightened.
Marc's head went down on the pillow beside hers, his voice low in
her ear. She felt the searing heat of his body against her skin, and his
breath was quickened and harsh. 'I'm not going to stop this time,
Kyla,' he muttered. 'Don't fight me any more. Let me make it love
let me show you how good it can be I don't want to hurt you.'
But as his hands relaxed a little, all she could think of was escape,
and she made a desperate, convulsive movement of her body, arching
away from him, trying to slide out from the weight of his thighs and
chest.
He slammed her back against the bed, looming over her
threateningly.
His voice harsh, he said, 'All right. God knows it shouldn't be like
this when it's your first time with a man, but this time we're going to
follow through all the way, Kyla, and no turning back, no slammed
doors, no last- minute slaps in the face.'
'So that you can prove what a man you are?' she cried bitterly. 'You
don't need to worry, Marc you're not the first. You can't hurt me,
the way you mean other ways, yes. But not not that way!'
'What do you mean?' he demanded. His hands hurt her, and his eyes
gleamed in the gathering dark as he tried to see her face.
'What I said,' she told him in a tired, husky whisper. 'You're not the
first.'
She felt his shock in the utter stillness of his body; he didn't even
seem to be breathing.
'You bloody little liar!' he muttered finally, his voice rough with
anger.
'That isn't fair!' she said in a low voice. 'I never lied to you.'
'What else would you call it? That's why you wouldn't let me near
you, isn't it? You were afraid I'd know.'
'Yes,' she admitted tiredly, 'I suppose that was part of it.'
He suddenly released her, swinging his feet to the floor, sitting on the
side of the bed, while he raked a hand through his hair. 'Why didn't
you tell me?' he muttered.
'You made it rather difficult,' she told him unsteadily. "You were so
sure you knew all about me. Are you feeling cheated?'
'Cheated? I suppose so. I thought you know what I thought.'
'Yes. I'm s-sorry that I'm n-not -'
He turned to look at her. 'Are you crying?'
Kyla shook her head, unable to answer him, trying to drag the cover
of the bed over her. She was shivering uncontrollably, her teeth
chattering. Reaction.
Marc switched on the bedside light and stood up, appalled at the sight
of the shudders racking her.
'What is it?' he said sharply. He grabbed at her robe that was hanging
over the foot of the bed, and put it around her, helping her slide her
arms into it.
'I'll be all right soon,' she gasped, still shivering as he hauled at the
blankets and drew them up over her.
He took one of her hands and began rubbing it, but she pulled sharply
away. Marc's jaw tightened, and he said, I'll get you a drink.'
'Something hot please,' she said. He looked back from the doorway,
and went out. He made her have a small brandy first, while he boiled
up the kettle for tea. The brandy steadied her, and by the time the tea
was drunk, she had stopped shivering altogether.
Marc took the cup and stood looking down at her, with a frown
between his eyes, but she looked away, her fingers tense on the sheet.
'Do you want to sleep?' he asked abruptly.
She nodded her head because she wanted to be left alone, not because
she thought sleep was possible.
He reached to switch off the lamp, and she said sharply, 'Leave it on!
Please.'
Marc straightened slowly. 'All right,' he said, and went out, closing
the door.
Kyla had thought she wanted to cry, but no tears came. She had the
odd sensation of being in some sort of vacuum. Her emotions seemed
temporarily dead, for she felt nothing. She would have to talk to
Marc, he was entitled to a proper explanation. It was something she
knew she should have done months ago. Now it might be too late. It
was strange that she could think about that possibility with
detachment. The only trouble was, the comfortable emotional
anaesthesia couldn't last.
Surprisingly, she dozed for a time, her mind troubled with half-
dreaming images from the past. She woke suddenly and completely
to a silent house, so silent she pondered if Marc had gone out, or
perhaps gone to bed in the other room. It was only ten-thirty. She felt
it was going to be a long night.
She realised her hair was spread out in tangled strands against the
pillow, and stumbled out of the bed, going to the dressing table for a
brush and comb. She pulled the brush through her hair fiercely, until
it was smooth and tidy, and tied it back off her face with a ribbon,
then straightened the gown she wore and quietly opened the bedroom
door and made her way to the bathroom.
When she came out again she went into the kitchen, looked for a
packet of cocoa and opened the refrigerator for some milk to heat.
She was turning with the jug in her hand when Marc appeared in the
doorway from the dining room.
Kyla jumped, her sudden movement catching the jug on the
refrigerator door, and knocking it from her hand. Milk splashed her
bare feet, and Marc rapped out, 'Don't move!'
He took a hand towel from the rail by the door and dropped it over
the mess of milk, bent to pick up the pieces of the jug that lay
jaggedly about her feet, and put them on the bench.
Kyla carefully stepped over the towel and stopped to pick it up.
Marc's hand on her arm stopped her, pulled her back, and placed her
firmly into a chair by the table. 'I'll do it,' he said.
He cleaned it up quite quickly, and as he rinsed out the towel at the
sink, she said, 'I thought you were in bed.'
'Why?'
'There were no lights.'
He looked round at her briefly. 'I've been sitting in the dark. It's
easier to think, that way.'
'I have to talk to you,' she said.
'Yes.' He put down the wet towel, and turned to look at her. 'Were
you going to have a drink of milk?' he asked.
'Cocoa. I meant to make some cocoa.' She picked up the packet off
the table and started to rise.
'I'll make it,' he said, and took the packet from her hand. He found an [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]