later his mood changed again, sobering abruptly as he shrugged off her protest.
‘I know I would have done better not to drive, but I wasn’t over the limit, and I had to talk to someone or go out of my mind.’
‘Yes—but all the same...’ Natalie struggled to ignore the warmth that had flooded through her veins at his touch, and the double-edged effect of that ‘little friend’. ‘You can’t drive any further tonight.’
‘I have to, sweetheart—unless you have some alternative to suggest.’
Sweetheart! If anything convinced her that he was not completely sober, it was that. Pierce had never called her anything even remotely so affectionate before. In the past he had labelled her only by the shortened form of her name, refusing to use its full version because ‘Natalie’s far too elegant for a little scrap like you’. Such uncharacteristic behaviour was more revealing than anything that had gone before.
There was only one possibility. ‘You’ll have to stay here.’
‘Here?’
Black eyebrows lifted in an exaggerated expression of amazement, and the gleam of wicked humour lit up those blue eyes once again.
‘That’s a highly improper suggestion, Miss Brennan.’ The sardonic mockery did nothing to hide the cutting edge to his words. ‘Whatever will the neighbours think?’
‘They needn’t know anything about it.’ Natalie refused to rise to his taunt. ‘After all, you said that you parked the car some distance away, and if you leave latish tomorrow when everyone’s gone to work—’ She broke off on a stab of pain as Pierce shook his head in adamant rejection.
‘I think not,’ he said curtly. ‘My coat—’
‘No, Pierce.’
Moving swiftly, she reached the jacket before him, snatching it up and holding it behind her back, out of his reach.
‘I won’t let you—you’re not fit to drive.’
‘Then I’ll walk.’ His tone was positively dangerous now, his eyes almost black with anger, resistance and denial of her arguments stamped into every line of his body. ‘I can’t be found drunk in charge of my feet!’
‘It’s pouring with rain! You’ll get soaked!’
‘I won’t melt. Natalie, I can’t stay—I can’t share your—’
‘You won’t have to share anything!’
Concentrating hard on getting him to listen to reason, she knew she shouldn’t pause to consider how his words made her feel. She couldn’t cope with the ambiguous feelings that assailed her at the thought that he actually believed she was offering him a place in her own bed, the realisation that this was the only possibility that had crossed his mind. In her thoughts she could hear her mother’s voice, cynical conviction in every word.
‘There’s only one thing a man like that wants from a girl like you, and I don’t have to tell you what that is.’
And of course she could have no doubt as to what was meant when she herself was the living proof of that ‘one thing’ a man might want, and even more evidence of the fact that when it became plain that that pleasure would result in consequences then the man responsible wouldn’t be seen for dust.
But her mother had been wrong about Pierce, as Natalie knew to her cost. He had made it plain that even when it was offered he had no interest at all in her body. So now, squashing down the pain that simply remembering brought, Natalie had no hesitation in pursuing her point determinedly.
‘This may not be the Manor House, but I do have a perfectly adequate spare bedroom.’
‘All the same—’
He made a move towards the door, but Natalie was there before him, slamming it shut and putting her back against it so that he would have to move her physically out of the way if he was really determined to leave.
‘Natalie—’
‘No argument, Pierce!’
She had to struggle to ignore the warning implicit in his use of her full name, refusing to let herself consider the fact that his determination to leave was motivated by much more than a simple concern for her reputation. Allowing herself the thought that he simply didn’t want to stay with her would weaken her too much and she couldn’t give in now.
‘I couldn’t have it on my conscience if I let you go and you hurt yourself or someone—’
‘For God’s sake, woman!’
As hard fingers closed over her arms, digging fiercely into the soft flesh, she knew with a terrible sinking sense of despair that if he did decide to move her she would be unable to resist, even her determination appearing pathetically puny when compared with his muscular strength.
And in the same moment she suddenly, shockingly, but far, far too late, knew a dreadful creeping fear at the thought of the force of the anger she had awoken in Pierce, the power she had unthinkingly released and might be totally incapable of stopping. She had always known that Pierce Donellan was a formidable force to be reckoned with, both at home and in the business world. The respect his estate workers had for him, his almost legendary reputation as a big fish in a very big pool were well known, but never before had she had that forcefulness turned on her personally, and, faced with the storm power of it, she needed all her courage in order to hold her ground.
‘I can’t let you do this!’
For a frightening second his grip tightened bruisingly, and she swallowed hard, nerving herself for the inevitable. Surprisingly, it didn’t come. Instead, Pierce looked deep into her eyes, seeing the determination in their coffee-coloured depths—the defiance—the fear.
‘Oh, hell!’ he muttered harshly, releasing her with such abruptness that she stumbled backwards and would actually have fallen if it hadn’t been for the support of the door behind her. ‘All right, if it’ll get you off my back—you win! Which room?’
‘Top of the stairs, first right—bathroom’s just next door.’
Natalie could feel no pleasure in her victory. Did he have to make it so obvious that staying was the last thing he wanted? she asked herself as Pierce, after the curtest of goodnights, made his way upstairs. She had got what she wanted, but at the cost of a painful blow to her heart.
She would give him time to use the bathroom and get into bed, she told herself, determinedly turning her attention to washing up, and refusing to let her mind drift because it showed an alarming tendency to wander off on to disturbing thoughts of Pierce undressing in the soft blue and white bedroom, of his strong, lean body sliding between the sheets...
‘Put the milk bottle out—lock the door—bolt it—fireguard—switch off the lights...’ she muttered to herself in order to provide a distraction from the wayward path her thoughts were taking. Was twenty minutes long enough?
It would have to be. It was coming up to midnight; she was worn out, and she had to be up before seven in the morning.
Not that she had any real hope of sleeping, she told herself as, dressed in a short denim-blue cotton nightdress, she brushed her teeth before taking herself off to bed. The thought of Pierce in the room directly opposite her own was more than enough to keep her wide awake. She would be able to hear every creak of the elderly bed, any slight movement he made.
stop it!
Ruthlessly she splashed her face with cold water, praying that it would cool her heated thoughts, lower the heightened temperature that was the result of her crazily racing pulse. It was as she dried herself that she realised she hadn’t provided clean towels for Pierce. She had been so knocked back by his unexpected capitulation that she hadn’t even thought about it. He would need them in the morning.
She would just drop them in on her way back to her room. He was probably already fast asleep anyway, the wine