Part 12 (1/2)

'... I'l come,' she said quickly, ignoring Jared's harsh intake of breath behind her. 'Ring me on Thursday. We can make the final arrangements then.'

'I surely will.' John's expression as he said goodbye to Jared had a trace of smugness about it now, but Catherine couldn't help that.

'Look after yourself.'

Susie appeared in the doorway. 'You rang, Mr Royal?' she asked, her eyes wide and filled with speculation.

'Yes, I did, Susie.' Jared nodded slowly. 'Show Mr Dexter out, would you?'

Catherine exchanged another smile with her visitor, and then Susie escorted him out of the room. After the sound of their footsteps had died away, Jared walked grimly towards the double doors, and taking one handle in each hand, he firmly closed them.

Then he turned to face her.

'What is this fiasco about your having sunstroke?' he demanded fiercely.

'Fiasco?' Catherine shook her head, remarkably calm in the circ.u.mstances. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'Yes, you do.' He moved away from the doors. 'We both know it was not sunstroke that caused that moment of unconsciousness!'

'Do we?' Catherine refused to prolong this charade. 'You mean your brutality caused my collapse?'

'No, I do not mean that!' he snapped angrily, coming to stand barely a foot away from her, intimidating both in nearness and size. 'You know exactly what I mean. I don't have to draw pictures. You fainted because of your condition, and you know it. Oh, I'm not denying that my behaviour may have had something to do with it, but sun-stroke!' He raked a savage hand through his hair. 'My G.o.d, however did you get away with it?'

Catherine resisted the temptation to back away from him. 'My condition, as you put it, is a fallacy!' she stated clearly.

Jared's brow creased. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'It means I was lying. I'm not pregnant. I never was.'

'What?' He stared at her incredulously. 'G.o.d, you have a nerve, you really do!'

'Why? For deceiving you? I couldn't resist-'

'No!' He swore obscenely. 'Not for deceiving me! You don't really expect me to believe you, do you?'

'Why not? You did before.'

'You were not lying before.'

'I'm not lying now.' she corrected him, quivering as his anger intensified.

'You really expect me to accept that you made the whole thing up?'

'No. You did.'

'What?'

He took a threatening step towards her and now she did back away. 'It's true,' she cried. 'You started it. You accused me of-of behaving in a way that invited trouble '

'You don't learn, do you?' he asked violently. 'Your father wrote to me, remember'? Are you denying that he was concerned about you?'

She took a deep breath. 'No, I'm not denying that. But did you ever trouble to find out why?'

'I didn't need to, did I?'

Catherine's fists clenched convulsively. 'Isn't that just typical of you? It never occurred to you that there might be some other reason than the obvious one, did it?'

'Frankly, no.'

'Frankly, no!' she mimicked him, putting the width of the couch between them. 'Oh, you make me sick! You think you know women so well! Well, let me tell you, you don't know me at all!'

Jared's expression was scornful. 'Not yet, perhaps,' he conceded grimly.

'You never will!'

'Won't I?' He gripped the back of the couch, and for a heart-stopping moment, she thought he intended throwing it aside to reach her. 'You can't deny that if Laura hadn't come upon us as she did, you'd have let me finish what I'd started!'

'I do deny it!' she gasped hotly, and his lips curled.

'Self-deception, Catherine,' he sneered. 'You practise it a lot.'

'So do you!' she retorted, goaded beyond reason. 'Pretending there's nothing between you and your stepmother!'

Now she had gone too far. She saw that immediately. But this time he had the advantage. The windows were closed, and in her weakened condition, he reached the doors long before she did.

'Oh, no,' he ground out angrily, his fingers closing round her upper arm. 'Not this time. You will take that back, or else...'

Catherine was trembling. It had all been too much for her, and with an exclamation he put his free hand against her forehead.

She was burning up, and the coolness of his fingers was so heavenly that when he would have taken them away again, she put up her hand and held them there.

'You really are ill, aren't you?' he demanded savagely. 'Dear G.o.d, Catherine, why didn't you tell them the truth? Were you ashamed to do so? Do you want me to do it for you?'

'No!' She tore herself away from him. 'Ju- just leave me alone!'

She swayed unsteadily. It was useless trying to reason with him.

He simply refused to listen to her. 'I'm not ill. Just-frustrated!'

'Perhaps you ought to go back to bed,' he suggested quietly, and his concern was almost worse than his anger had been. 'Would you like me to help you?'

'And if I say yes, will that be misconstrued, too?' she asked bitterly. 'No, I'm not going to bed. And I don't need your a.s.sistance.'

He took a step towards her and she stiffened, but then he turned abruptly aside, saying unexpectedly: 'This man-Tony Bainbridge; do you love him?'

She was surprised he remembered Tony's name, but then he had a remarkable sense of recall.

She hesitated a moment, and then, supporting herself with the doork.n.o.b, she answered flatly: 'No.'

He half turned to look at her. 'No?' he demanded harshly.