The Forever Dream (16 page)

was suddenly fierce. "Do you know how it made me feel when I realized that I was the scourge he was whipping her with? I wanted to kill him! Whenever he was around, it was as if I were burning up inside, as if a poison were eating at me." Her dark eyes were blazing. Then I realized that was what he wanted, what he was feeding upon. He wanted to be able to inflict pain, anger, unhappiness—any of the negative emotions—wherever he could, because it increased his feeling of power. The only way I'd ever be able to defeat him was to rob him of that satisfaction." She drew a ragged breath. "So I began to sublimate the pain and the hate and concentrate on finding some element of joy in everything around me. God, it was hard sometimes."

She unconsciously nestled closer to him. His arm about her had gradually tightened in an attempt to pour strength and support into her. He could feel his throat tighten achingly, as if her remembered pain was his own.

"But it worked. I could see that it was working and I was getting stronger with it. He had control of every aspect of my life, but he couldn't take that away if I didn't let him." Her eyes flashed. "And there was no way on earth I was going to let him do that. He'd already destroyed my mother, but he wasn't going to do that to me. I wasn't a victim. I have
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My God, and how she must have needed that strength. She was small and fragile even now, and he could imagine what a big-eyed slip of a child she must have been. Lord, he'd never counted on the tenderness that was flooding him with every word she spoke in that husky, intense little whisper. He felt as if he were melting inside, and it hurt damnably.

"How did you begin dancing?" he asked, hoping to ease her away from the more painful memories.

"My mother arranged for lessons in the village while my father was on one of his tours of duty outside the country." Her smile displayed a savage satisfaction. "By the time he returned, it was too late. I'd exhibited what they called 'exceptional promise,' and had been sent to the cultural department at Moscow and been accepted at the Bolshoi School. The cultural department is very prestigious and powerful in Russia, and he wouldn't have been able to withdraw me without showing cause." The smile faded. "He did manage to salvage a minor victory. He wouldn't allow my mother to go with me. He placed me in a foster home near the academy, and I was permitted to go back to visit her only twice a year. That was a lovely two-edged sword he could turn. It hurt both my mother and me." She shrugged wearily. "After a while, though, I don't think it really mattered anymore to her. She didn't care about anyone or anything that happened. He had won, you see. Her spirit was totally destroyed." There was a long silence that was fraught with raw tendrils of emotion so extreme it could almost be felt. Tania's eyes were bright with unshed tears as she stared blindly before her. He wanted to draw her into his arms and cradle her there. He wanted to reach out and take her pain into himself. He wanted to do anything that would erase that agony of desolation.

"Will you let me hold you, little Piper?" he asked, his voice suspiciously husky.

At first she seemed not to hear him; then her gaze moved dazedly to meet his own. "Oh, yes." Then, as he carefully enfolded her in his arms, she murmured, "Thank you, Jared."

He swallowed hard to relieve the ache that was tightening his throat at that polite, almost humble, acceptance. "You're welcome, sweetheart." His lips brushed her temple gently. "It's my pleasure."

Her arms slid around his waist, and she cuddled close with a touching childishness. Indeed, she felt more

like a child at this moment than she ever had in her life. It was so good to be held and cosseted in arms that seemed to embody all the security and all the caring she had never known. Strange, she hadn't realized how much she'd missed those qualities until they were suddenly available to her. She'd been so lost in memories of that time long ago that it all seemed wonderfully right and natural.

His hands were massaging her back in soothing little circles. "Just relax, love. I'll take care of you."

Yes, he'd take care of her, she thought contentedly. She could trust Jared to hold back the darkness of those memories. He was strong. So very strong.

Strong. The word sent a sudden tingle of shock through her that pierced the dreamy euphoria and caused her to stiffen in his arms. Jared was strong, possibly the strongest man she'd ever known, and there lay the danger. "No," she murmured, shaking her head frantically. "No, let me go." Her hands were pushing at his chest. "I won't let you do this to me."

For a moment his grasp tightened around her, and she thought he was going to ignore her plea. Then his arms loosened slowly, before letting her go entirely, and she hurriedly moved away from him. He was too close. And she suddenly felt cold and lonely outside his arms. He made no move to follow her, but his gaze narrowed thoughtfully on her tense face.

"What is it?" he asked quietly. "Why are you so frightened?"

"I'm not frightened," she said fiercely. Oh, but she was. More frightened than she'd ever been in her entire life. "I just don't want you to hold me anymore. I don't need you. I don't need anyone."

"Don't you?" he murmured. "Somehow I got an entirely different impression a few minutes ago. Why won't you let me comfort you? I'm not going to hold a momentary weakness against you."

"I'm not weak!" she said, her voice vibrating with the force of the words. "I'll never be weak, and I'll never be dominated. Not by you or anyone else."

"Why do you think I'm trying to dominate you?" he asked, his lips twisting in a wry smile. "I don't think I've exhibited any overwhelmingly domineering proclivities in our relationship to date, and you certainly seem well able to hold your own."

"The strong will always dominate," she said. "It's a natural instinct to hunt out the weaknesses of those around them and use them to conquer."

"You're wrong," he said gently. "Strength doesn't always have a component of ruthlessness, as it did in your father's case, Tania."

"Perhaps not, but it's too dangerous to chance." Her dark eyes were glowing feverishly as she moistened her lips. "But why should we be talking about it anyway? There's no question of your ever being in a position to dominate me. This is an isolated situation that will never reoccur."

"Why do I have the feeling that our truce is now at an end?"

"It would never have worked anyway. I must have been crazy even to agree to try it." She tossed her head. "It must have been the full moon. It's said to do strange things to sane people."

"So we're back to square one?"

She rose lithely to her feet. "I've found that you can rarely go back. That leaves only forward, doesn't it? But whichever way it is, it'll be my way, Jared. It will always be my way!"

Then she was gone, streaking toward the distant chateau through the ghostly trees like a slender shadow.

Tania slammed the door of her room and leaned against it for a moment, breathing hard, her heart a rapid throbbing in her breast. She knew there'd been no pursuit. Jared had merely watched her flight with that quiet, resolute patience that characterized his every move. There was no reason for this panic she was feeling, and it had been a mistake to run away from him. Those keen gray eyes seemed to know everything about her, and there was little chance that he'd not interpret her action for what it was. She would not be afraid of him—there was no way he could reach her if she remained firm. She was just as strong and determined as he, wasn't she?

Oh, Lord, she hoped so. Tonight, for the first time in her life, she'd experienced doubts on that score. During that moment in Jared's arms she'd wanted to flow into him, become a part of him, share that cherished privacy that she'd never relinquished to anyone.

Why had she yielded to the impulse to confide in him, when she'd never discussed that part of her past with anyone, not even Marguerite? If anything signaled how dangerous Jared was to her, that confessional monologue surely did. All he had done was hold her in his arms and listen with the powerful intensity inherent in him, and he'd seemed to draw her to him with magnetlike force.

She unzipped Jared's jacket and took it off, wanting nothing to remind her of that momentary weakness. She strode briskly toward the bathroom, tossing the jacket carelessly on the chair as she passed. It was a mistake she mustn't repeat. She couldn't risk losing even a particle of her individuality to Jared. Though he'd never shown any ruthlessness toward her, she knew it was there in spite of what he said. She'd learned to trust only herself, and she wasn't about to let herself be beguiled into entering a relationship that would endanger not only her emotional stability, but her very independence.

She opened the door of the bathroom, unbuttoning the mandarin collar of the yellow brocade tunic as she did so. No, she couldn't take that chance, she thought as she turned on the shower and quickly stripped off her clothes. And she certainly couldn't continue the sexual intrigue she'd indulged in with Jared these past two weeks. Now that she recognized how vulnerable she was, it would be the height of foolishness. The only sensible course would be to bring this episode to a swift summation.

Escape.

She stepped beneath the shower, letting the spray cascade over her in a soothing stream. It was the only answer to a dilemma that was becoming more serious than any she'd encountered. She must put an end to these playful attempts at escape she'd regarded as almost a game and concentrate all her efforts on her objective, to get away. She had an idea that she didn't have much time to accomplish the goal if she were to withstand the pull Jared was exerting on both her emotions and her senses. To give in on one front would be to lose on both, and she wasn't about to do so. No, it must be escape, and very soon.

Tania's decision was actively reinforced the next morning when she arrived at the gym for her usual five hours of practice at the barre. Edward Betz, dressed in a dark T-shirt and trunks, was slowly and methodically chinning himself on a bar on the far side of the room. She stopped abruptly, and the heavy door closed behind her with a dull thud. At the sound, Betz looked over his shoulder with the swift wariness of a startled animal. The wariness was replaced immediately by his usual impassivity as he dropped from the bar with surprising litheness. His physique, now that it wasn't concealed by the dark, conservative suit, was also a surprise. There wasn't an ounce of flab on his square, solid body. His short legs were corded with muscle, and his chest and shoulders were equally powerful. Only his plump face and brown, Basset-hound eyes reflected any hint of humanity, and that was nullified by their distant expression.

"Good morning, Miss Orlinov," he said. "I understood you didn't start your practice until seven. I hoped to be through here and out of your way before that time. I'll leave at once."

"I'm a little early," she answered tersely. "I had trouble sleeping." Her shock at seeing him was rapidly being superseded by anger. He was being so damned courteous—as if he hadn't arranged the kidnapping that had brought her here! The man was completely unbelievable. "But why should you let my presence bother you? I didn't notice that you had any hesitation about interfering in my life."

"You're still annoyed with me," he observed slowly. "I'd hoped you'd be resigned to the situation by this time." He leaned down to pick up a hand towel on the floor by the bar. "But from what my subordinates tell me, you haven't even tried to adjust." He patted his forehead with the towel. "You're a very difficult woman, Miss Orlinov."

"Difficult? Because I object to being kidnapped, drugged, and carried off to some chateau in the wilds by a man who has the morals of a procurer for a bawdy house?"

"It was necessary, Miss Orlinov," he said, wiping his neck. "I only do what's necessary. I did try to persuade you first, if you remember. The use of force is always regrettable."

"Yet you had no hesitation about using it," she said, her eyes flashing fire. "And certainly no moral reservations."

He looked up, his brown eyes steady. "No, I had no moral reservations, Miss Orlinov. It might be wise if you realized that fully. I really can't afford to have morals at all." His smile was almost kind. "You see, I'm not a terribly clever man. I'm very slow, and it takes me a long time to comprehend things that more intelligent people understand immediately. I have to work extremely hard even to stay level with those people." Beneath the impassive features, she was suddenly conscious of a current of power. "You may not be aware of it as yet, but I'm tremendously ambitious. I have no intention of giving up the position I've reached by such hard work because I've failed to please the senator in this matter." He shook his head. "No, I definitely can't afford to quibble about morals."

Good Lord, and to think she'd taken the man so lightly that first day in her dressing room. She could feel his determination as almost a living force. He might have been as slow as he said, but that calm, ruthless obstinacy was still an element to be reckoned with.

"I'm sorry you thought my presence was required for your purpose," she said caustically, ignoring the shiver of apprehension that realization had brought. "Because I'm afraid you'll have to make other plans. I have no intention of remaining here."

"So I understand," he said. "Your escape attempts have been brought to my attention." There was a flicker of impersonal admiration in his face. "Some of them were quite inventive. You're to be congratulated. You really kept my men on their toes."

"I wasn't conducting a training exercise for your security team, Mr. Betz."

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. The results were the same." He frowned. "But you came extremely close once or twice. I think it's best that you cease these attempts."

"I imagine you would," she said with saccharine sweetness. "But I have no intention of obliging you, and one day quite soon I'll succeed."

"That's what I'm worried about," he said. "I couldn't tolerate that possibility, you know." His brown eyes were mournful. "As I said, you're a very difficult woman, Miss Orlinov. According to the information I've received, you haven't even fulfilled the purpose for which I brought you here."