just seemed to miss—like ships in the night, she thought now with bitter wryness.
It was during the month of her eighteenth birthday that they met for the first time as adults. It was one of those long, lazy June days when the sun blazed down from an unblemished sky and the air lay so hot and still that she and Vicky had decided to laze around the Stanton swimming-pool for the afternoon.
Madeline’s skin already glowed with the rich golden tan from a recent Florida holiday with her family—her American family, that was—her mother, Lincoln, her second husband, and his two teenage children from his first marriage. She enjoyed being with them all for the month she spent there, but, as always, was glad to come home to Lambourn, and had been back only a few days when she donned her black and white striped one-piece swimsuit which showed more flesh than it hid and made Vicky green with envy for her luscious tan.
‘That figure of yours should be censored,’ her friend complained, eyeing the way the fashionable suit moulded Madeline’s slender frame from the firm fullness of her breasts to the high cutaway sides which made an open statement about the long sleek length of her legs.
‘Pocket Venuses bring out the male instinct to protect,’ she answered soothingly, studying Vicky’s demure little frame with her own brand of envy. Next to Vicky—and Nina, come to that—Madeline had always felt a bit like an Amazon. She had what Louise called an exotic figure. It didn’t inure her much to the softly rounded curves she had, but, never the type to chew on her lip in yearning for what she saw as too much of everything, she accepted her lot and got on with life in her usual happy-go-lucky way.
She had just got up from her padded lounger and executed a neat dive into the pool, and was swimming lazily up and down when another splash alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone in the pool. She expected to see Vicky’s streaky brown head emerge beside her, and was therefore surprised when the dark, attractive features of Dominic grinned white-toothed at her instead, water streaming down his tanned body, muscles rippling everywhere, cording his strong neck where it met broad shoulders.
‘Now, what have we here?’ he murmured silkily, his warm grey eyes glinting with mischief. ‘A real live water nymph in our pool? Does she cast wicked spells, I wonder?’
For all Madeline had been the one to torment Dominic over the years, he wasn’t averse to giving her a taste of her own medicine when in the mood—and he was clearly in the mood that day.
‘Wicked ones,’ she grinned, surprised to feel so pleased to see him. ‘So watch it,’ she warned, wagging a lazy finger his way. ‘Or I may decide to turn you into a frog. And then what would all the lovely Lambourn ladies do without the rakish Dominic Stanton to send their poor hearts all a-flutter?’
He grinned and so did she—then with her usual impulsiveness she turned a somersault and dived beneath the water, grabbing at his foot as she went so that she could trail him down with her, watching the disconcertment on his face as he tried to tug his captured foot free, air bubbles escaping all around them.
He was a big man, but Madeline was strong and determined. In the end, he had to grab her wrist and make her release him, and they both came to the surface gasping for air.
‘God, you haven’t changed much, have you?’ he choked, flinging back his head to clear his soaked hair from his face.
Madeline saw the measuring glint in his eyes, squealed when she correctly interpreted its vengeful meaning, and made a flailing dive for the side of the pool. She didn’t make it. Dominic caught her by the waist and lifted her up high above him, laughing at her helplessness as water streamed down her sun-browned skin.
Then he wasn’t laughing but looking, those piercing grey eyes of his warm on her body, taking in its new maturity, the unconscious sensuality in the way she arched away from him in an attempt to free herself, her breasts thrusting up and outwards, the hard press of her extended nipples clearly etched against the fine Lycra material of her suit, her head thrown back so her hair turned into a thick curtain of wet black silk which trailed in the water behind her.
He muttered something beneath his breath, and Madeline stopped struggling to glance questioningly at him.
It was then that she saw it—the change from teasing big brother to sexually stimulated male. His eyes were narrowed and his body tense. And slowly—slowly he lowered her down the length of him, letting her feel—and feeling for himself—the electric response as their wet bodies brushed enticingly against each other.
Their faces came level, and Madeline stared in blushing confusion at him. His mouth twisted, a self-mockery masking out the sensual awareness. Yet he did not immediately release her, Instead his hands went on an outrageous exploration of her body beneath the surface of the water. Breathlessly, she let him, her eyes fixed on his face as awareness began to pulse between them.
‘When did you get back?’ Vicky’s sleep-slurred voice broke into their absorption in each other, breaking them apart with an abruptness that was a message in itself. They glanced up to find her yawning lazily, completely unaware of the sudden tension fizzing in her pool. She blinked at her brother, then repeated the question, adding, ‘Daddy said you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.’
He turned away from Madeline, and instantly she dived below the surface of the water, swimming quickly away until she had put the full width of the pool between them, her senses in turmoil, a confusion over what had just happened making her feel peculiarly dizzy.
‘I finished quicker than I thought I would, so I caught an earlier flight home.’ He answered his sister levelly enough. ‘How are you, pug-face?’ he enquired teasingly as he levered himself out of the pool.
Suddenly and disturbingly aware of her own body, Madeline found that it took all her courage to make her climb out of the pool. And the fact that she was actually blushing made Dominic’s eyes glint mockingly at her as he watched her fumble with her towelling wrap while seemingly totally engrossed in a conversation with his sister.
‘Have dinner with me tonight,’ he murmured later under cover of Vicky’s light chatter.
Feeling shy for perhaps the very first time in her life, she shook her head, not at all sure she wanted to continue what had begun in the pool. ‘I don’t—’
‘Please.’ His hand curled about her wrist, stopping her mid-refusal. His touch acted like a bee-sting to her system and she gasped as the blood began to burn in her veins. Even Vicky had gone silent, watching with growing comprehension what was happening between her best friend and her big brother.
‘Dinner, that’s all,’ he repeated, then added in a soft-voiced challenge, ‘Where’s that spirit of adventure you’re so famous for?’
Well, it was dead now, thought the four-years-older Madeline. Killed by the hand that had once loved to feed it. Ruthlessly crushed by a man who took his revenge on a stupid impulsive child in a way which had instantly cured her of a lot of things. But most of all it had cured her of her silly belief that love conquered all. And she no longer believed in love at all now—not the all-consuming passionate kind, anyway.
CHAPTER THREE
MADELINE rang Vicky the next day.
‘You’re back!’ came the excited proclamation.
‘I think so,’ she murmured drily, ‘although I’m not certain all of me is here, if you know what I mean.’
‘Jet-lag,’
