this Colonel Frenshaw’s housekeeper?” He paused. “Is that why you’re marrying my father? For Sara’s sake?”
“Don’t you dare to mention her name!” she cried fiercely. “You don’t know her. You don’t know me. Why don’t you go away and leave me alone!”
“I want to know.”
“It’s not your affair.”
“Damn you, isn’t it? I have a right to know —”
“A right! A right, Joel!” Her voice had risen. “You have no rights, no rights at all. You forfeited them when … when …” Her voice trailed away and she turned away from him, staring down at her hands. “I want to go back now. Will you take me — please?”
Joel levered himself up in his seat, staring at her averted profile. For a moment, just for a moment, he had been near to learning the real truth behind all this. He knew it, and he exulted in it. But she had withdrawn again, and frustration filled him. He sat there, his fists clenched, wishing for once that she was a man. With a man, he would have felt no compunction about beating the truth out of him. But Rachel was not a man, she was very much a woman, and somehow he had to find a way to release the pent-up emotions which were silencing her tongue. But how?
Rachel was controlled again, and she glanced briefly into his face. “Will you take me back?” she asked again.
“Not yet,” said Joel tautly. “Not yet.” He forced his mind to go back over what had been said, trying to find the key to open the locked door. What had he said to arouse her to the extent that she had almost betrayed herself? What words had he used to create such an upheaval? What had they been talking about? Her husband? Gilmour? Yes. And — and the child … He tried to remember what he had said about the child. Was it his suggestion that she was marrying his father for the child’s sake which had triggered her outburst? He had to try again.
Reaching for another cheroot, he said quietly: “And when do you plan to get married?”
Rachel sighed impatiently. “I don’t know exactly. In a few weeks.”
“And until then you’re going to go on living here?”
“I — perhaps.”
Joel controlled his irritation. “And Sara? Will Sara live with you once you’re married?”
She stared angrily at him. “Of course she will. Where else would she live? Oh, stop this, Joel, stop it now! I want to go back. I’ve been away long enough. Sara might waken —”
“I’m sure Hanson will be more than pleased to look after her for a while,” returned Joel coldly. “She’s not a baby, is she? What is she — three? Four? Old enough to understand when her mother isn’t available.”
Rachel drew an unsteady breath. “Are you going to take me back?” she repeated tremulously.
“And if I say no?”
“I can walk. I’m not helpless.”
Her hand went to the door handle, but he forestalled her, reaching across her to prevent her from opening it. His arm was pressed against her breasts, and although she shrank away from his touch, he deliberately moved closer.
“What’s the matter, Rachel?” he demanded mockingly, suddenly realising he had a far more potent weapon than force to arouse her. “If you’re going to be my stepmama, what’s wrong with us getting better acquainted? As I recall it, you used to like me to touch you.”
She struggled to free herself, her breath coming in shallow gasps, and while mentally he could stand back and be appalled at the way he was behaving, something stronger than his self-respect was driving him on. Indeed, her nearness was having a most disturbing effect on him, and while love did not enter into his thoughts, lust was beginning to rear its ugly head. In spite of her slenderness, in spite of the severe hairstyle and unfashionable clothes, Rachel was still a very beautiful woman, and she had always had the power to disrupt his sensual processes, a power which he had once resented.
“Let go of me!” she stormed at him, her face twisted with contempt and bitterness. “I might have known it would come to this! This is all you’re good for, isn’t it, Joel!”
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
“It’s the truth!” she choked. “You want everything and nothing, don’t you? The body, without the mind. The pleasure without the pain?”
“What are you talking about?”
He was gripping her shoulders now, and while his brain told him he was achieving what he wanted to achieve, cold logic warned him that he might not like what he was about to hear. He shook her violently, and her hair came loose from the knot and fell in a silken curtain about her shoulders. She had never looked more abandoned, more desirable, and emotions, long dormant, returned to torment him. He was remembering the last time he had seen her like this, and then her needs had matched his own…
“Rachel …” he muttered hoarsely, but with a desperate effort she evaded his urgent mouth.
“Let me go, you brute!” she gasped. “Don’t you dare to touch me!”
“Rachel, Rachel!” His fingers on her shoulders tightened. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. My God, I loved you once. I’d never hurt you —”
“Wouldn’t you?” She strained away from him, her face hectically flushed. “You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”
“Why, for God’s sake?” Temper was hardening his voice. “What have I ever done to you? Tell me that. You walked out on me, remember? You’re the one who split, who ran away without telling anyone where you were going! My God, I nearly went out of my mind! You’re the one who quickly found some other man to take my place, so don’t talk to me about hurting people!”
Rachel’s lips curled. “You don’t understand, do you, Joel? Even now, you haven’t the first idea what I’m talking about.” She shook her head almost pityingly. “Joel, Sara is not two or three years old. She’s five. Five! Do you realise what that means?”
Joel’s hands on her shoulders slackened, and his brows drew together causing deep lines to etch his forehead. An awful sick feeling was invading his stomach, and he was hardly aware of her staring at him, gauging his reactions, enjoying his shattering sense of horror and disbelief. Then his thoughts found coherence in denial.
“What are you saying?” he demanded thickly.
Rachel’s triumph was short-lived, and she moved her shoulders helplessly. “I shouldn’t have told you,” she murmured dully.
“Shouldn’t have told me? Shouldn’t have told me what?” Joel was recovering fast. “Are you saying this child — this Sara — is my daughter?”
Rachel looked up at him almost defeatedly. “Whose else would she be?”
He moved his head confusedly. “Gilmour’s, your husband’s!”
“I had no husband, Joel. I’ve worked for Colonel Frenshaw for the past five years.”
Joel
