Barbara Bradford - A Woman of Substance

‘Even the most stubborn and temperamental fillies eventually get thirsty, Mrs Lowther,’ he said in a low voice, his eyes roving over her boldly. ‘Depending, of course, when they last quenched their thirst. You look positively parched to me.’

His words, appearing innocent enough on the surface, were full of innuendo and the unconcealed desire flickering in his eyes was revealing of his thoughts and his intentions. Emma’s cheeks were scarlet as they walked across the floor, and to her considerable irritation she discovered she was acutely aware of Paul McGill’s physical proximity-of his fingers biting into hers, of his arm brushing so intimately against her bare shoulder. He was taller and broader than she had realized at the Ritz, and he seemed to overpower her. He exuded a sheathed strength, an earthy and domineering masculinity that disturbed her. The room swam before her eyes and she was overcome by faintness. A peculiar tingling sensation invaded her entire body and her heart quickened, beating so rapidly underneath the green velvet she thought it was about to burst. She was flustered and unnerved. It’s only anger, she told her self, and she truly believed this was the real cause of her sudden distress.

Dolly’s drawing room appeared to Emma to have tripled in size and she thought the long stretch of chartreuse carpet would never come to an end. ‘Please, I would like to sit down,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Over there. You can go and find a waiter-’

‘Oh no, not on your life! You’re not going to escape quite so easily,’ Paul cried.

‘Where are you taking me?’

Paul stopped in his tracks and swung her to face him. He peered down at her, his violet eyes filled with speculation. ‘Well now, I’m not quite sure. There are hundreds of interesting possibilities and alternatives-’ Observing the chilly expression on her face, he laughed that bantering laugh and remarked softly, ‘Don’t look so terrified. I’m not going to abscond with you. I merely wanted to get you away from your brother and Dolly.’ He scanned the room and inclined his head to the left. ‘Over there perhaps, near the potted palm. That seems a likely place for us. A quiet and secluded spot.’

Emma attempted to break free from him. ‘Please let me go.’

‘Never.’

He manoeuvred her into the corner with great adeptness. Emma realized, and with mounting dismay, that there was now no opportunity for immediate flight, and she also acknowledged that she owed it to Frank to stay at Dolly’s for a respectable interval. She sat down on the sofa, relieved to be released from the major’s grip, and grudgingly took the glass of champagne which he whisked off the tray as the waiter glided past.

But she had no intention of pandering to this arrogant devil of a man, nor would she spare his feelings, and so she said icily, ‘I suppose this rough and masterful technique you adopt is successful with most women, Major.’

Paul nodded and crossed his legs nonchalantly. ‘Generally speaking, I would say,’ he said lazily. He looked her over with an insolence that brought a deep flush to her chest and neck.

‘Let me assure you it won’t be with me!’ Emma exclaimed, her face haughty. ‘I am different from most women.’

‘I am aware of that,’ he admitted, the roguish glint still lingering in his eyes. ‘In fact, I do believe I detected that characteristic in you at once. I think that’s what attracted me to you, apart from your staggering looks.’ He grinned. ‘You are seemingly staggeringly blunt as well, Mrs Lowther. And strong-minded and sassy to boot. Yes, very different, I would say. Fire and ice perhaps?’

‘All ice, Major,’ Emma parried.

‘Ice can melt, you know.’

‘It can also be very dangerous. People have been known to have fatal accidents with ice,’ Emma snapped.

‘Danger has always attracted me, Mrs Lowther. I find it exciting. Challenging. It brings out all my masculine instincts.’

Emma threw him a scathing look, turned away contemptuously, and glanced around the room, her eyes seeking Frank. This man elicited an immediate and direct response from her, and one that both infuriated and baffled her. With his monumental egotism, his astonishing appearance, his swaggering self-assurance, and his flippant tongue, he was quite unlike any man she had ever met. And no man had ever had the temerity to be so brash with her or address her in such a suggestive manner. She detested the major and resented his assumption that she was about to fall swooning at his feet. There was also a ruthlessness about him that oddly enough did not trouble her and she was nonplussed, momentarily not understanding that ruthlessness was a trait she was familiar with and could easily handle.

Paul leaned back in the chair, his eyes reflective as he studied Emma’s exquisite profile, and he marvelled at his incredible luck in meeting her quite by accident this very night. He thought: She is very different. An original. She must belong to me. I won’t rest until I have her for myself. All of her. Not only her body but her heart and her mind as well. He was shaken to his very core, for no woman had evoked such a violent reaction in him before. Paul McGill, at thirty-six, was lusty, adventurous, worldly, and charismatic, with a down-to-earth sexuality that cut across class lines to awaken a fervent response in all women. Shopgirls and upper-class ladies equally found him irresistible and, consequently, his conquests had been all too easy, and so numerous he had long ago lost count of his romantic entanglements. His approach, until this precise moment in his life, had been based on a ‘take me or leave me’ attitude. Women fell over themselves to take him, and with an eagerness that was almost indecent, before he sauntered out of their lives, the rakish grin intact, his heart untouched.

For all that, and despite the debonair and hedonistic stance he struck, Paul McGill was intelligent and possessed shrewdness and psychological insight. Much smarter than he pretended to be, he now recognized, with a sudden flash of clarity, that Emma was a wholly different proposition. She was not going to succumb to his brash charm or his potent virility. This was a woman to be conquered only through understanding, honesty, and subtle strategy. Ruefully admitting he was antagonizing her unnecessarily with his raillery, he decided to change his tactics and cease his baiting of her at once.

He leaned forward and said, ‘Let’s stop this silly bantering. We’re spoiling it.’

‘Spoiling what?’ Emma asked snappishly.

‘Our first meeting. Our first evening together.’

‘And our last!’

Paul brought his face closer to hers. ‘I like a woman with spirit. Mrs Lowther. I presume Mr Lowther has the same preference.’

Taken by surprise, Emma gaped at him. What a blundering imbecile he is, she thought with irritation. Her stare was glacial. ‘I am a widow, Major McGill. My husband was killed eighteen months ago. In the Somme offensive.’

Oh, my God, Paul thought. He said quickly, ‘Please forgive me. I am so terribly sorry. I had no idea. I am a thoughtless fool.’ He swore under his breath and sat very still. Emma was silent and unresponsive.

Paul now said, ‘It was very tactless of me. One should be more careful in wartime. I am truly sorry. I hope you will also accept my apologies for my appalling behaviour at the Ritz. It was quite unforgivable.’

Emma heard the sincerity in his voice, detected sympathy in his eyes, saw that the mocking expression had been wiped off his face, and she was amazed at the radical change in his manner.

‘Will you accept my apology?’

‘Yes,’ Emma murmured.

Frank joined them and handed a walking stick to Paul. ‘Dolly asked me to give you this.’ He turned to Emma. ‘How are you feeling? Better, I hope.’