Conditional Surrender Read online

  He moved slowly within her, giving her time to adjust to the alien though instinctive rhythm. His breath grew hot on her face as passion quickened his pace, overtaking the rigid control he had up until now maintained. His mouth plundered hers, scorching her lips with white-hot flames of

  desire until their crescendent cries echoed through the stillness of the night.

  Kate lay absolutely still, stunned by the violent emotions still raging through her. The heat of Greg's body on hers lingered in a faint film of perspiration. Slowly she turned her head to the side, dreading the glow of triumph she expected to be etched on his hard features. She was wrong. He looked as thoroughly shaken as she still felt.

  `Well,' he said finally, breathlessly. 'Does that come under the heading of "nice" too?' he mocked her gently, the silver light in his eyes shining down on her still roused features. `Stop fighting it, Kate. Don't you know your body will betray you every time from now on?' To emphasise his assertion, his hand made a casual sweep up her thighs, over her stomach, to rest on the undercurve of her breast. He laughed softly as she shuddered, bitterly aware of his naked proximity. How could she ever resist him again now she knew the full glory of the dynamite he had promised her? She hoped with all her heart she would find a way.

  `It's good between us, Kate. Can't you feel that?' His voice was husky, his eyes again kindling with the light of renewed desire. 'Be thankful we're one of the few couples to achieve such perfect pleasure.' His eyes ran over her flushed nakedness. 'It's pretty rare, believe me.'

  `You knew it would be like this?' she whispered incredulously, her eyes widening in disbelief. Greg gave a short bark of laughter.

  `If I had the least idea, Kate, then nothing on earth would have made me wait this long for you.' His head lowered to pull the tip of her breast between his teeth again in an erotic sucking motion. 'I want you again, Kate. Now!'

  `Go to hell!' she muttered fiercely as her body responded blindly to his call.

  `Oh, no, Kate.' His white teeth were bared in a grin of genuine masculine amusement. 'I'm going to heaven. And you're coining with me!'

  And she did. Shamelessly.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  `PRINCESS? Why on earth didn't you get the shop to do the alterations on those curtains?' Terry asked plaintively as Kate jabbed her finger with the sewing needle for the hundredth time.

  Marie Goodis and Alissa McNaught exchanged a look which translated loosely as an exasperated 'Men!' and bent their heads back to sewing hems.

  Kate sucked at the small puncture wound, regarding Terry balefully. It was just as well he hadn't witnessed the earlier fiasco when she had sewn the material on her lap to her jeans!

  `Because they wanted to charge ten pounds a pair for alterations. Daylight robbery after the amount I spent!' Kate's voice rang with the indignation she still felt.

  But Terry obviously did not see the sense of her argument, despite the older women's approving nods.

  `If you're so penny-pinching, how come you're giving a perfectly good bed to the Salvation Army and replacing it with one practically the same?' he pointed out with perfect masculine logic. It was also a subject Kate had no wish to pursue, not with Marie's eyes resting thoughtfully on her down bent head.

  `I'm changing all the furniture in the bedroom, Terry. The old headboard didn't match the colour scheme.' When she was certain her own colour had subsided, she lifted her head. `A question of aesthetics,' she added with an 'I don't expect a mere male to understand' air.

  He didn't.

  `Typical! Put a woman's name on your credit card and you may as well sign a pact with the devil! What did Greg have to say about it all?'

  Kate swallowed on the lump of pure guilt which settled in her throat. 'Well—er—nothing really.'

  Terry remained unconvinced. Marie and Alissa exchanged another telling look.

  `Have you finished that curtain rail yet?'

  `Nag, nag, nag! No, I haven't. I'm taking a well-earned tea break. Unless you've any cold beer handy?' His eyes brightened with hope.

  Kate took pity on him. It really was rather nice of him to give up his Saturday to help her redecorate the master bedroom. The four of them had done so well, only the finishing touches were now required. Kate had been working like a beaver to get everything finished by the time Greg returned from Scotland.

  `I seem to remember picking up a six-pack yesterday.' Terry headed for the kitchen.

  `So Greg has no idea you're decorating, then, Kate?' asked Marie, hazel eyes innocently interrogative.

  `We—ell .

  `Oh, Katherine, do you think that's wise? Gregory doesn't seem the type to take kindly to surprises.'

  `Nonsense, Alissa! Best tactics, if you ask me!' Marie nodded decisively. 'It's tears with Sam. That man can't bear to see me cry! Turns into a complete jellyfish. He'll agree to anything.'

  Alissa looked a little shamefaced as she confessed her method. 'The dripping tap technique—it works like a dream. Of course, I have to plan well in advance.'

  Marie looked interested. `Mmm—I don't think it would work with Sam. He wouldn't notice a hint if it jumped up and smacked him in the face! No, Kate, I think you're handling this right.' Kate, who had not been consciously handling anything, managed to look suitably thankful for the pearls of wisdom. 'Yes, it would have to be the direct approach with Greg,' Marie added musingly.

  `Direct? Directly behind his back, you mean!' Terry laughed uproariously, almost choking on his beer as the three women jumped guiltily at the sound of his voice.

  `I tell you, if ever I'm foolish enough to get married, I'm keeping my wife well away from you three!'

  `She won't need us, Terence,' Alissa declared. 'Any

  woman crafty enough to get you to the altar . .

  `Enough!' Terry threw up his hands in surrender. 'I'm going to finish the curtain rail. I know my place in your scheme of things.'

  `Oh, dear!' Kate bit her lip. `Do you think perhaps . . .?'

  `Too late to get cold feet now, my dear!' Marie giggled at her consternation. 'There! I do believe we've finished!' She tied off the cotton and sat back, satisfaction in every line of her. 'That wasn't so bad, was it?'

  `Wasn't it?' Kate looked pointedly at her needle-marked fingers. 'Personally I think it may have been worth the ten pounds after all.'

  `Where's the ironing board, Katherine?'

  `Oh—in one of the kitchen cupboards, I think.'

  `You think?'

  `Don't look at me like that, Mom!' Kate grew defensive. `Mrs Arthur does her nut if I do the washing up. I think ironing carries the death penalty!'

  `Oh, she's wonderful, though, isn't she, Kate? She's looked after Greg since he moved here,' Marie explained for Alissa's benefit. 'I think even Greg's a little in awe of her.'

  Kate's answering snort was eloquence itself. 'Well, I do think he could have warned me,' she protested, remembering her first interview with the frighteningly efficient daily woman.

  The one thing Kate and Greg had agreed on was to cut Kate's working week in half. Her duties were now shared between herself and Susan Henshaw, and another girl had been drafted into the office to make up the shortfall. Kate still handled the majority of the work, though, since she helped Greg in the evenings.

  So, with a couple of days a week to herself, it was only natural to assume Mrs Arthur would not be required to work as many hours. In fact, Kate would have been just as happy to dispense with her services altogether. But the woman had different ideas. Somehow, during the course of the interview, Kate found herself agreeing to increase the woman's hours rather than reduce them, sadly deducing that she lacked the killer instinct necessary on occasions with employees. Greg

  had thought it hilarious.

  But at least she was now able to put her free hours to good use. Retaining her position bolstered her independent streak, but now she had a little time free from Greg's ever-disturbing presence.

  `This sudden decision to redecorate wouldn't have anything to do w
ith the danger I dropped the other evening, would it?' asked Marie as soon as they were alone.

  `Clanger?' Kate asked blankly, more to gain time than for the answer she already knew.

  `Mmm. You remember—about Caroline Sterling being responsible for the interior design of this place?'

  Kate sighed. Marie had become too good a friend in some respects over the past month. She was grateful for the older woman's basic common sense. She also wished Marie was not quite so astute. Prevarication was not going to do Kate any good with those sharp hazel eyes fixed on her.

  `Well, it might just have tipped the scales.' Kate stretched the truth as far as she felt able.

  `You don't have anything to fear from that woman, Kate. If Greg had been halfway serious about her, then believe me, I would have known about it,' Marie stated firmly.

  Kate believed her.

  Marie and Sam had been fairly frequent and always welcome visitors over the six weeks she and Greg had been married. Kate looked forward to their visits. They brought out a side of Greg Kate would have liked to know a lot better than she was allowed.

  And it had been an innocent remark by Marie that had caused the last three days' frantic activity. Kate had complained mildly that however many little changes she made around the apartment, she could not truthfully feel at home there.

  Marie had nodded sagely, understanding Kate's dilemma immediately. 'You have to realise it was basically designed as a bachelor apartment. Trust that Sterling woman to specialise in such an area!'

  Kate had gone very still as Marie clapped a hand over her mouth in dismay, and looked towards Greg for an

  explanation he seemed only too happy to provide.

  `Caroline's a partner in a firm of interior designers. She—er—looks after this side of the business.' And his eyes had dared her to make what she wanted of that. Had they been alone, her reaction might well have been more volatile. But, conscious of her friend's discomfort, she had merely murmured reflectively,

  `I always knew there'd be a logical reason why I hate this place!'

  And she had decided there and then to stamp the apartment with her own signature. It had seemed provident that Greg was called away to Scotland the next day to solve a dispute over manning levels. Kate had wasted no time. The first thing to be thrown out was the bed!

  She had stared at it with loathing the night before, images of Greg and Caroline nakedly entwined upon it refusing to leave her in peace, and giving her the impetus to resist Greg with a little more conviction than had thus far been the case.

  Not that resistance was much use. Greg knew full well that she was his the moment he touched her. Even a look was sometimes sufficient for the barriers to begin to crumble. But at least Kate had the satisfaction of knowing those barriers afforded her husband a great measure of annoyance.

  Kate enjoyed annoying Greg. Not a very nice trait in an otherwise very nice person, but one she was finding oddly exhilarating.

  Adjusting to marriage had, by no stretch of the imagination been the nightmare she had envisaged. Mainly because Greg continued to treat her as if nothing had changed between them, during daylight hours, at least. But even the long summer evenings brought very little hint that he regarded her as anything more than his assistant. He brought masses of work home with him, and Kate was expected to help. She was even paid overtime!

  It took a couple of weeks of this for her to understand that Greg had no intention of making their marriage a real one. The sexual side apart, he did not want a wife—did not want Kate to think of herself as a wife. And he did everything possible to keep an emotional distance between them.

  `Don't get too caught up in the wifely gestures, Kate! I have no use for them!' he had declared harshly one morning when she automatically straightened his crooked tie—something she had done for her father and brothers more often than she could remember.

  The words had hurt, and Kate had not learnt the trick of hiding her feelings from him. But however upset she was, she never allowed such cruelty to pass.

  `Gaining a wife is one of the unfortunate consequences of getting married, Greg,' she told him calmly. 'You've always struck me as the type who willingly pays the price of his actions. Well, I'm it!'

  The small changes she had made around the apartment could have been the cause of a lot more dissension had she not been prepared for his reaction. Indeed, she welcomed it. Any opportunity to punch holes in that unemotional persona, every tightening of his lips, every irritated lowering of his brows brought Kate a little glow of satisfaction. For she knew she was getting to him, burrowing under his skin, insinuating herself into all aspects of his life. And he did not like it one little bit.

  He wanted her to change into one of the sophisticated types who presented no danger to him, was trying to coat her with the same shell of brittle cynicism with which he viewed relationships. Kate refused to fit the mould.

  She rebelled in her own quiet way, calmly asserting herself when necessary, and otherwise going her own sweet, warmly spontaneous way.

  But this, Kate had to admit, looking around her at the vast changes she had wrought in the master bedroom, might have been over the top. It was one of the few times she had let her temper get the better of her.

  And your jealousy, she ruthlessly reminded herself. For, even though she implicitly believed Greg's explanation of that—association, any mention of Caroline Sterling still touched a raw spot. It was one thing to know one's husband was experienced. It was quite another to come face to face with one of those experiences!

  And it was also one of the unpalatable facts which were

  adding up to something Kate had tried hard to avoid, but was fast becoming inevitable. The more insight she gained into Greg's past, the more she understood what motivated him. And the more she understood him, the more she cared for him. Cared deeply. Even now she dared put her feelings no higher than that. Not until he too confessed that he cared for her—as a person, not just as a warm body to bury himself in at the end of the day.

  And however distant and impersonal he was during the day, at night he made love to her with such unselfishness, such consideration, such burning intensity, that Kate was able to hope that he subconsciously, at least, felt something far more significant for her than the liking and respect he had already admitted.

  She was sorely tempted to question Marie further about Greg's parents, knowing that his attitude towards marriage had been coloured, perhaps irrevocably, by their example. One thing Marie had inadvertently let slip was that Greg's mother had walked out on his father after the pit accident. Small wonder Greg was cynical! But Kate valiantly held her curiosity at bay, clinging a little superstitiously to the hope that Greg would one day trust her enough to tell her himself.

  Meanwhile, though, Terry's call that he had completed his set task recalled her to the present day. She had curtains to hang!

  `There! What do you think?' Kate did not trouble to hide her satisfaction at a job well done. The curtains glided open and shut with one little tug on the cord she was holding.

  `It's beautiful, Kate! Really beautiful!' Marie declared with whole-hearted approval. 'I can't wait to see Greg's face!'

  Kate's glow took a down-turn. 'I can!' she muttered morosely.

  `Mm, a good strong cup of tea, I think.' her mother prescribed. 'Good for the nerves!'

  `I'll come and help you, Alissa. Cheer up, Kate—they abolished hanging ages ago!' With which cheery message Marie followed Alissa into the kitchen.

  Terry' looked at Kate in comic consternation. 'Did that

  mean what I think it means?'

  `Mmm?'

  `You haven't told Greg about any of this, have you?' 'We—ell, no,' she finally admitted with what she hoped was a winning smile.

  It wasn't. Terry glared at her.

  `I thought you were my friend!'

  `I am . . . Look, love . .

  `Don't you "love" me!' He began to gather his tools hastily together. 'I'm getting out of here before
your old man turns up!'

  Kate laughed. 'He's not due back until tomorrow!'

  `I don't care! I'm going.' He started throwing spanners, screwdrivers and drilling bits into his tool kit. 'And you, my lady, will not breathe one word about my involvement in this. Understand?' He fastened the tool kit and strode from the room. 'I get enough funny looks from him as it is. If he found out I'd spent the whole day here . .

  Kate, following hard on his heels—still giggling helplessly at his panic—stopped short at the sight which had Terry standing as stiff as a statue.

  They exchanged patently guilty looks before turning back to face their fate.

  `Look, old chap. I can explain . .

  `You're not due back until tomorrow!'

  Greg did not say a word. He stood stock still, looking at them, only hard eyes moving in a face which could otherwise be made of stone.

  Kate groaned inwardly at that look. Back to square one, was the depressing thought as Greg took in her dishevelled appearance. She had tied her hair back that morning but knew precious little of it remained restrained. And her cheeks were undoubtedly the same colour as her dratted waves. She was also wearing her most disreputable pair of jeans, which did not help matters.

  Once, just once, she would love to have the upper hand. It wasn't that much to ask, surely? But that day looked to be in the far distant future. It was certainly' not today!

  He, naturally, was his own impeccable self—dark grey suit,

  discreet tie, pristine white shirt. And how he managed to look that way after a train journey from Scotland, Kate would never know.

  Miraculously—or it seemed to Kate—Alissa and Marie chose that moment to bustle into the lounge with a laden tray.

  `Gregory! You're home early! How nice,' Alissa beamed—then remembered what she had been up to and the smile faltered.

  Marie simply said, 'Oh, dear,' and sat down.