hopes,
instantly another thought had struck him, and he had been pleased that he found
her so tantalizing. If she had been desirable then, now he found her even more
so, and muttering an oath, his coolness vanished, and he dragged her into a
hungry embrace.
Her mouth was warm and soft
in surprise as he gathered her closer, deepening his kiss, forcing her lips
apart, his tongue plundering her mouth.
Catherine had half sensed
he was going to kiss her, and unaware of the emotions a single kiss could
arouse, she had been partly curious, having more than reached an age to wonder
about what happened between men and women in the throes of passion. It had been
only curiosity that had ruled her in letting Clive take her into his arms, but
she discovered immediately that it had been a horrid mistake—she didn't like
his tongue in her mouth, and when his hand touched her breast, a tremor of
revulsion shook her slender body. Confused and not a little disgusted by the
storm of emotion she had unwittingly caused, she pushed violently against his
chest, but to no avail. Ignoring her attempts to escape and lost in desire,
Clive only pulled her closer to him. Able to free one arm and
sheer fury lending strength to her efforts, she boxed Mm smartly on the ear,
and at the same time brought her sharp little heel down bard on his foot.
Attacked with such painful force on two fronts, Clive's passion died as quickly
as it had risen, and with more haste than grace, he released her.
Catherine spared him not a
glance. Spying a thin silver letter opener lying on the desk, she snatched it
up in her hand, holding it like a knife, and. her eyes blazing violet fire, she
faced him.
Clive took an impatient
step forward, but the sight of the latter opener held so confidently in
Catherine's hand halted him.
In a voice filled with
loathing she spat, "Stay where you are! Come any closer to me, and I shall! show you how well I can use this pretty little
thing."
Willing himself to relax, a taut smile crossed his handsome face. Forcing a
lightness into his voice, he murmured, "My dear girl, you mistake
my intentions. What is one small kiss between us? Why, we are practically
related. I meant no harm."
Catherine's eyes were
narrowed with disbelief, and she snorted contemptuously, "I am not a fool,
Clive, You can keep your kisses for Elizabeth. She, I am certain, will enjoy
them far more than I."
A queer silence greeted her
words, and biting his lip in vexation, Clive wondered how she had come to learn
of his liaison with Elizabeth. Shrugging his shoulders he replied lightly,
"You cannot blame a man for his indiscretions, my dear. The sins committed
in one's salad days cannot be held against one forever. And," he added
deliberately, "with my wild oats behind me, you can be assured that I
would be a faithful husband."
Catherine's lip curled
scornfully. "Save your polite speeches for someone else, if you please, And I would appreciate it if you would leave me alone. I
cannot think of any reason for prolonging this distasteful scene."
Knowing he could gain
nothing further and warily eyeing the silver letter opener, Clive made as
graceful an exit as possible under the circumstances. For several moments after
he had departed, Catherine's thoughts were not happy, but then telling
herself that Clive could do her no harm, she pushed aside the memory of this
latest unpleas ant episode and willed herself to relax and think
only of pleasant things.
Crossing
the room, she knelt down in front of the fire, her slim hands held out to the
warmth of the blaze. After a few minutes, she sat down, leaning her head back
against the couch, staring dreamily into the fire and wondering idly what Adam
was doing and if he was as happy in America as his few letters indicated. She
still missed him awfully, even after three years.
Catherine,
for all her liveliness, was a lonely girl, though she would have bees surprised
to be told so. Uncomfortable and uncertain with her
instantly another thought had struck him, and he had been pleased that he found
her so tantalizing. If she had been desirable then, now he found her even more
so, and muttering an oath, his coolness vanished, and he dragged her into a
hungry embrace.
Her mouth was warm and soft
in surprise as he gathered her closer, deepening his kiss, forcing her lips
apart, his tongue plundering her mouth.
Catherine had half sensed
he was going to kiss her, and unaware of the emotions a single kiss could
arouse, she had been partly curious, having more than reached an age to wonder
about what happened between men and women in the throes of passion. It had been
only curiosity that had ruled her in letting Clive take her into his arms, but
she discovered immediately that it had been a horrid mistake—she didn't like
his tongue in her mouth, and when his hand touched her breast, a tremor of
revulsion shook her slender body. Confused and not a little disgusted by the
storm of emotion she had unwittingly caused, she pushed violently against his
chest, but to no avail. Ignoring her attempts to escape and lost in desire,
Clive only pulled her closer to him. Able to free one arm and
sheer fury lending strength to her efforts, she boxed Mm smartly on the ear,
and at the same time brought her sharp little heel down bard on his foot.
Attacked with such painful force on two fronts, Clive's passion died as quickly
as it had risen, and with more haste than grace, he released her.
Catherine spared him not a
glance. Spying a thin silver letter opener lying on the desk, she snatched it
up in her hand, holding it like a knife, and. her eyes blazing violet fire, she
faced him.
Clive took an impatient
step forward, but the sight of the latter opener held so confidently in
Catherine's hand halted him.
In a voice filled with
loathing she spat, "Stay where you are! Come any closer to me, and I shall! show you how well I can use this pretty little
thing."
Willing himself to relax, a taut smile crossed his handsome face. Forcing a
lightness into his voice, he murmured, "My dear girl, you mistake
my intentions. What is one small kiss between us? Why, we are practically
related. I meant no harm."
Catherine's eyes were
narrowed with disbelief, and she snorted contemptuously, "I am not a fool,
Clive, You can keep your kisses for Elizabeth. She, I am certain, will enjoy
them far more than I."
A queer silence greeted her
words, and biting his lip in vexation, Clive wondered how she had come to learn
of his liaison with Elizabeth. Shrugging his shoulders he replied lightly,
"You cannot blame a man for his indiscretions, my dear. The sins committed
in one's salad days cannot be held against one forever. And," he added
deliberately, "with my wild oats behind me, you can be assured that I
would be a faithful husband."
Catherine's lip curled
scornfully. "Save your polite speeches for someone else, if you please, And I would appreciate it if you would leave me alone. I
cannot think of any reason for prolonging this distasteful scene."
Knowing he could gain
nothing further and warily eyeing the silver letter opener, Clive made as
graceful an exit as possible under the circumstances. For several moments after
he had departed, Catherine's thoughts were not happy, but then telling
herself that Clive could do her no harm, she pushed aside the memory of this
latest unpleas ant episode and willed herself to relax and think
only of pleasant things.
Crossing
the room, she knelt down in front of the fire, her slim hands held out to the
warmth of the blaze. After a few minutes, she sat down, leaning her head back
against the couch, staring dreamily into the fire and wondering idly what Adam
was doing and if he was as happy in America as his few letters indicated. She
still missed him awfully, even after three years.
Catherine,
for all her liveliness, was a lonely girl, though she would have bees surprised
to be told so. Uncomfortable and uncertain with her
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