Dragon's Lair (17 page)

fighting for her self-control. Would she never learn? she lashed

herself angrily. Was she some sort of masochist that she kept

deliberately recalling this pain— this anguish? Surely she had

suffered enough at the time. She didn't want to relive it all again.

Nothing would change any of it, no matter how many times she beat

herself with these memories.

She had to face the fact that however rapturous she had found that

time in Gethyn's arms, for him it had been merely another sexual

experience. She had known from the start that he was no novice

where making love was concerned, and had suffered small agonies

of jealousy before their marriage imagining him with other women.

Looking back, she could see that his masculine pride would have

been affronted by her unexpected frigidity. Her aloofness and

indifference to him would have been tantalising. But once she had

yielded to him, she had become just another woman—and one that

he had been forced to marry in order to win her. Now that he had

won at last, what further allure did she have for him? She bit her lip

savagely. Besides, her total inexperience had probably bored him.

He was used to women who knew how to respond to a man, to

arouse as well as be aroused. And in this, she had been signally

lacking. Which accounted, she told herself painfully, for his cynical

disappearance from her life just when, it transpired, she needed him

most—not merely as a lover, though she was forced to

acknowledge the multitude of nights when she had lain awake,

aching for his caresses, but as someone to give her comfort and

support during the ensuing loss of her child. Someone to alleviate

the tragedy with his tenderness, to give her compassion as well as

passion.

But in this, Gethyn too had been lacking. And this was why she had

to make herself remember all the heaven and the hell she had

known with him, to ensure that the incredible attraction he had

always had for her did not seduce her into making a pitiful fool of

herself for a second time.

It was all very well to tell herself bracingly that it could not happen,

that she was free of him for ever. She had to admit that her

awareness of him as a man was as potent as ever. Not even his

callous treatment of her, and the fact that he had found another girl

to share his future with him, could detract from it, and she was

frightened.

With all her heart, she wished she had stayed in London and simply

let the legal process run its course, no matter how long it took.

Gethyn at a distance was easier to hate than Gethyn close at hand.

Apart from anything else, he was the only lover who had ever

possessed her, and that was, inevitably, a chain to bind her to him

no matter how often she might tell herself that all fetters were

broken.

Wasn't that why she had taken the drastic step of cutting off her

beautiful hair—to prove to him that any physical claims he had on

her were strictly in the past? She gave a slight shiver as she caught

a glimpse of herself in a shop window. She looked like a

stranger—and a nervous stranger at that. She couldn't escape the

fact that Gethyn would be angry when he found out what she had

done. And she couldn't forget the last time she had made him

angry— on their wedding night, and the cool, utterly calculated

revenge he had taken then.

She moistened her lips with a feeling of desperation. Well, the

deed, was done now, and she would simply have to face the

consequences. She lifted her chin slightly, telling herself the worst

he could do would be to deny her the divorce, and she doubted

whether he would be prepared to take that step. After all, it was as

important to him as it was to her.

Nevertheless, before she made her way back to where the car was

parked, she went into a gift shop and hastily purchased a headscarf,

which she tied over her shorn head. Her lips quirked slightly as she

studied her reflection in the mirror provided by the assistant. As a

cover-up, it was effective enough, but she couldn't hope to conceal

what she had done under selected views of Welsh castles

indefinitely. Sooner or later she would have to take the scarf off,

but at least she had given herself a breathing space.

There was no sign of Gethyn when she found the car again, and she

sighed in irritation. Then she noticed that a piece of paper had been

tucked in under one of the windscreen wipers. For a moment she

hoped vindictively it might be a parking ticket, but she knew there

was little hope of that as the car was parked perfectly correctly, so

she retrieved the paper and unfolded it. It was short and succinct.

'Meet me at twelve in the Black Swan. G.'

Davina almost ground her teeth as she crushed the paper in her

hand. So that imperious summons was enough, was it, to ensure

that she trailed meekly after him? She would see him in hell first!

She took a firmer grip on her slipping parcels and stared around her.

Common sense was telling her that it would be foolish to simply

defy Gethyn for the sake of it and lunch elsewhere alone. She had

to meet up with him sooner or later in order to get back to Plas

Gwyn, and it might as well be sooner as later. She put up a hand

and gave a nervous twitch at her scarf. Or might it?

She turned and began to walk rather aimlessly back in the direction

she had just come from. As she went, she began defiantly to justify

herself in her own mind. After all, Gethyn couldn't be sure she had

even received his beastly little note. It could have blown away, or

been taken by someone else—or anything! And she had not the

least idea where the Black Swan might be. She had seen various

hotels on her wanderings, but she couldn't remember whether the

Black Swan had been one of them.

She adjusted her parcels for the umpteenth time, cursing them

silently under her breath. She had not bargained for having to

wander the streets of Dolgellau laden like a pack mule when she

had set out that morning. In fact, she wasn't at all sure just what she

had bargained for. A chance to be alone with Gethyn, away from

other eyes and ears in order to get their respective futures ironed

out, she supposed. Well, in that case, the day had been a disaster.

The businesslike talk she had envisaged had developed into

something dangerously personal, and that must not be allowed to

happen again. And really, there was very little to discuss. She

would have to make it clear that she was not making any financial

demands on him at all, and that all she sought was his consent.

She was so deep in thought that she almost screamed out loud when

a hand descended bruisingly on her arm. She gave a violent start

and her packages went cascading to the pavement. She looked up

furiously into Gethyn's cool eyes.

'Look what you've made me do!'

He raised his eyebrows. 'I thought I was merely preventing you

from getting lost. You're walking in the opposite direction from the

Black Swan.' His voice was bland, but she was not deceived for a

moment. He knew that she had not had the slightest intention of

seeking him out. He had probably been standing somewhere

watching her, and had seen her read his note and crumple it up.

She swallowed her rage, and allowed her gaze to become limpid.

'It's very muddling when you're in a strange town,' she

acknowledged. 'And there are all these Welsh street names to cope

with as well.'

'Poor Davina!' There was a marked satirical note now. 'And you

with no tongue in your head to ask, of course. It was lucky I found

you.'

'Yes, wasn't it?' she agreed radiantly, subduing an impulse to throw

her remaining parcels at him.

He squatted down on the damp pavement, gathering up the articles

she had dropped, his mouth twisting as the nature of her purchases

became clear through the torn wrappings.

'Griselda mentioned that she hadn't seen you,' he commented as he

stood up.

She bit her lip. 'I don't require a
couture
wardrobe,' she informed

him stiffly. 'Just a few oddments to get me through the next day or

two.'

He gave the assortment he had rescued a sardonic look. 'Oddments

would seem to be the right word.' His glance went to the scarf she

was wearing and he gave a perceptible wince. 'I see you've taken

the role of tourist to heart. I had no idea you had such a devotion to

castles. Remind me to take you to Caenarfon one day. It looks

much better in stone, I promise you.'

'I doubt if I shall be here that long,' she said between her teeth.

'I'm sorry to hear that,' he said in a voice of total indifference. 'I

hope you'll delay your departure for long enough to have lunch with

me. I'm starving.'

He set off along the pavement with his long easy stride, leaving her

to follow in his wake at an undignified trot. She was seething when

she caught him up at the car.

T think we'll dump these here,' he remarked, his tone suggesting he

could suggest an even more appropriate repository. 'Unless you

want to eat, swathed in denim and cheesecloth.' He unlocked the

door and tossed the parcels on to the seat. Davina made no attempt

to argue. She was glad to see the back of them.

A few tables had been set on the pavement outside the Black Swan,

and these were already occupied by hardy souls, enjoying the pale

sunlight. Gethyn swept her past them and into the hotel's main

entrance. A glass door on the right admitted them to a small

cocktail bar, and beyond Davina could see the restaurant.

He gave her an interrogative glance. 'Is it still Campari and soda?'

'Yes,' she said, and could not resist adding, 'You have a good

memory for details.'

He gave her a thin smile, 'Not merely for details, Davina,' he told

her before turning to the barman to give their order. There was a

leather-bound menu lying on the bar and he handed it to her.

'I can recommend the steak and kidney pie,' he commented.

She ran an indifferent glance down the list of food. 'I'll have chicken

salad.'

He tutted mockingly. 'You won't change those angles of yours back

to curves on a salad diet,
cariad.'

'Please don't call me that,' she said tautly. 'And I think my figure is

my own concern.'

His smile widened. 'I doubt if anyone else would be much interested

in it at the moment,' he said gently and unforgivably. Davina dug

her nails into the palms of her hands, refusing to let herself rise to

his baiting. After all, she reminded herself, the last thing she wanted

was for him to become interested in her physical appearance.

She sipped at her drink, glancing around her. There were few other

people in the bar apart from themselves, and she was far too aware

of the tall man at her side to be able to take much interest in anyone

else. With a pang, she remembered the game they had played in

bars and hotels during their courtship, making absurd guesses about

the identities and occupations of other guests, revelling in each

other's laughter. Whereas now ... Her hand shook suddenly and she

put her glass down hurriedly on the bar, aware that some of the

dark pink liquid had splashed on to her dress.

'Oh, damn!' She scrubbed at the offending mark with her

handkerchief.

Gethyn's hand closed over hers. 'Relax, Davina,' he advised softly.

'You're behaving as if you're strung up on wires. People are

watching us.'

'I'm sorry.' She thrust the handkerchief back into her bag. 'But this is

hardly a normal situation; is it? And I'm surprised you're so

sensitive about being under public scrutiny. There was a time when

you weren't so concerned with personal privacy.'

'Perhaps because I was too concerned with other things.' His tone

was edged. 'But that no longer applies. If you want a scene, I'll

oblige you. But not here. The owner happens to be a friend of

mine.'

She sent him a glittering smile. 'You're very protective about your

friends, Gethyn. Is this a new trait?'

'One of many.' His eyes were like chips of green ice. 'But I haven't

changed in one thing, Davina. I still believe that a lot of women

would be improved by a bloody good hiding, and you'd come top of

the list.'