Penny Jordan - A Savage Adoration

‘Dominic!’

Her body froze in instant recognition and panic. Eight years hadn’t changed him at all, except to make him seem more formidable. That aura of leashed power that had once so excited and intrigued her was still there; the black hair was still as thick and dark as ever, the grey eyes as alert. He even had the same deep tan, while she …

As he hauled her to her feet, she grimaced inwardly, bitterly aware of her soaked jeans and ancient anorak. Why on earth hadn’t she taken the trouble to put on some make-up and do her hair? She could feel it tangling untidily round her head, and surely she might have had the sense to put on one of the stunning skisuits she had bought for last winter’s skiing holiday with David and his family.

Oh God, if she had to face Dominic, why on earth couldn’t it have been with all the armour she had learned to adopt in the last eight years instead of this, looking much as she had done as a teenager, instead of the sophisticated woman she had learned to become?

‘Christy, are you OK?’

Incredibly, he sounded concerned as he brushed the snow off her face and, even more astounding, he was smiling at her, a smile she recognised from before those traumatic days when she had tried to turn the casual affection of an adult male towards the young daughter of his parents’ friends into something more personal. As she looked into his concerned eyes it was almost as though that dreadful summer had never been. She caught her breath at the shock of it. Surely he couldn’t have forgotten …

No, of course he hadn’t, but perhaps he judged it more politic to pretend he had. She stiffened and pushed him away, her brusque, ‘I’m fine, no thanks to you,’ causing his smile to change to a frown. ‘Do you always drive about without any thought for the safety of others?’ she demanded tartly. ‘Hardly the sort of behaviour one would expect in a member of the medical profession.’

His smile had faded completely now, to be replaced by a sharp-eyed scrutiny of her pale, set face.

‘I was driving slowly enough to be able to stop, and hardly anyone ever uses this lane,’ he pointed out calmly.

Christy knew that she was over-reacting, but it was the only way she could hold at bay her shock at seeing him. She had thought she had managed to avoid him, and it struck her now that she would have much preferred to face him again in the familiarity of her own home rather than out here like this, when she was at such a disadvantage. Again she cursed her own folly in being stupid enough to try and avoid him. Far better if she had stayed at home and greeted him in one of the elegantly expensive outfits she wore for work—outfits that said quite unmistakably that she was an adult.

His eyes monitored her pale face and shaky limbs, his forehead furrowing in a deep frown.

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ He reached out to help her, and instinctively she recoiled.

‘Get in the car,’ he told her, still watching her. ‘I’ll run you home. It won’t take me a minute, and as your family doctor, I …’

‘You’re not my doctor!’

The passionate denial was out before she could silence it, leaving them staring at one another, her, tense with shock, and Dominic narrow-eyed with an expression she could not interpret.

‘Christy.’

His voice was clipped now, his dark eyebrows drawn together over those clear grey eyes, the dark head inclined towards her at an achingly familiar angle. ‘Look, it’s pointless us standing here arguing. It’s a good half-mile to the house. Even if nothing’s damaged, a fall like that can be quite a shock.’

Christy knew that it was pointless and childish trying to argue with him, especially with her nerve ends jumping like discordant wires and her heart beating so fast she could hardly draw breath. He was right, she was suffering from shock, but not because of her fall. With a brief shrug she moved towards his car—a brand new BMW, she noticed wryly, staring at the glossy paintwork. He moved towards her, his body brushing against hers as he opened the door. Instantly she stiffened and drew away.

‘What’s wrong?’

Did he really honestly need to ask?

‘Nothing. I just don’t like being touched, that’s all.’

Too late she registered his expression. What she had said was quite true, and it was an excuse she had used so often that she was barely aware of the import of it any more, but as she brushed the snow off her anorak she was suddenly aware of Dominic studying her with a curiously fixed intensity.

Suddenly his mouth twisted, giving him a faintly satanic air, and she coloured hotly, knowing what he must be thinking, but knowing equally that there was no way she could refute his thoughts, or stop him from remembering a time when she had wanted far more than just his touch.

Feeling sick with reaction, she pulled back from the car. ‘I don’t want a lift, Dominic,’ she told him huskily. ‘I’d much rather walk,’ and before he could stop her, she set off down the lane at a brisk pace, not daring to turn round in case she saw him following her.

It was an unnerving sensation, and one that turned her legs to rubber, but at last she made it to the garden gate, and it was only once she was inside that she heard the sound of Dominic’s car engine firing, and realised that he must have watched her walk the whole way.

Well, of course, as a doctor, he could hardly have it said that he had neglected any of his responsibilities. Her mouth curled bitterly as she limped towards the front door.

As she closed it behind her her father called out, ‘Christy, is that you?’ His study door opened and his eyebrows rose as he studied her wet clothes. ‘You’ve just missed Dominic. What on earth happened to you? You look as though you had a fight with a snowdrift and came off worst!’

‘You’re almost right.’

She saw him frown. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yes … I fell over in the lane. Fortunately nothing’s damaged apart from my pride. How’s Mum?’

‘She’s coming along very nicely, so Dominic says, but you’ll be able to ask him for yourself tonight. He’s coming for supper.’ He looked guiltily at her. ‘Your mother invited him. She worries about him, living all alone in the Vicarage. You know what a fusser she is.’

So it was Dominic who had bought the Vicarage. Christy’s heart sank as she registered her father’s words. She could hardly fabricate an excuse to absent herself tonight.

‘You needn’t worry about what to cook. Your mother said to tell you that the freezer’s full. We miss Dominic’s parents. The four of us used to have some good times together …’

Guiltily Christy chastised herself for her selfishness. Dominic’s father had died four years ago, and then his mother had gone to live with her widowed sister in Berkshire. They had been her parents’ closest friends, but until now all she had been conscious of was her own relief that their absence meant that there was no longer any reason for Dominic to return to Setondale. But he had returned …

‘Is Mum awake? I thought I’d go up and see her.’

‘Yes, do. She’s complaining already that she’s getting bored, but Dominic has told her that she has to stay in bed at least another week.’

Her mother was sitting propped up against her pillows when Christy walked into her parents’ bedroom. Sarah Marsden was a striking-looking woman, with her daughter’s green eyes and the high cheekbones of the Celtic Scots. She smiled warmly as she saw Christy, and patted the bed. ‘There you are, darling. Come and sit down and talk to me. I’m bored out of my mind lying here, but Dominic insists.’ She watched her daughter carefully as she added, ‘You know, of course, that he’s back?’