A Kind Of Madness Part 22

She cried out in the first white heat of shattering release, felt herself fall through s.p.a.ce into the safety of Carter's arms as the initial sharp dazzle of pleasure left her boneless and fluid.

She could hear Carter breathing heavily, feel his body trembling slightly in the aftermath of his own release. He was still holding her, stroking her damp skin, whispering soft words to her that she was too exhausted to hear.

All at once she felt hugely tired, so physically relaxed that it was impossible to move, impossible to do anything other than turn into the warmth of Carter's body, nuzzle his throat appreciatively and then fall deeply asleep as she snuggled deeper into his embrace.

CHAPTER TEN.

'i've brought you a cup of tea. "

Elspeth shuddered wildly as she recognised Carter's voice. Her head was pounding, her mouth felt sour and dry, her stomach was churning nauseously, but worst of all the sound of Carter's voice had brought an effortless and total recall of the events of the previous night.

The fact that she was now in her parents' bed and not her own did not provide any rea.s.surance that she had simply dreamed the whole appalling incident. For one thing, she doubted that her imagination was that good. For another, every time she moved there were unfamiliar aches and tensions within her body which she was quite sure had nothing to do with the pounding in her head or the nausea in her stomach.

Tea. It was the last thing she wanted. No, Carter's presence in her bedroom reminding her of what she had done--that was the last thing she wanted.

She wished there were some way she could block out forever her all too vivid memories of the way she had seduced--there really was no other word for it--Carter. A faint moan escaped involuntarily from her tight throat. She opened her eyes just in time to see Carter hurriedly putting down the cup and advancing towards the bed.

Foolishly, in view of what had happened, she clutched hold of the bedclothes as though in terror of having them ripped from her, shrinking back under them, while Carter came to an abrupt halt, his face blenching.

"I've got to go and check on the greenhouses, see if there's been any more damage."

She nodded her head, her throat too tight to allow her to speak. She wished he would go and leave her if not in peace, then at least in privacy to digest the unappetising memories of her wanton behaviour.

It was the drink, of course. There could be no other explanation, and everyone knew that strong alcohol could have the strangest effect on those not used to drinking it. Which was why, of course, sensible mothers advised their teenage daughters to treat it with great caution.

Carter seemed strangely reluctant to leave her room. He had walked over to the window and was standing staring out of it. This morning he was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. He turned round abruptly and where the collar lay open she saw a small dark mark, like a bruise, just above his collarbone. She stared at it like someone transfixed, her colour coming and going.

Had she done that? Vague, unnerving images filtered through her aching brain. She remembered clutching on to Carter's arms, digging her nails into his hard muscles, telling him in frantic whispers how much she had wanted to touch and taste him.

A small whimper of protest bubbled in her throat. Numbly she pulled the be clothes over her head.

She heard Carter sigh, a small, explosive sound. Of what? Anger?

Irritation? Amus.e.m.e.nt? After all, he hadn't stopped her, had he? Oh, no, he had let her go right ahead and make a complete fool of herself.

And he could have stopped her. couldn't he? He could have refused.

Refused to what? Allow her to arouse him? Would she have wanted that?

Would she have been feeling any better this morning if she were confronting the knowledge that he had rejected her? At least last night had proved to her that she was capable of arousing a man to desire, that not all men were as cold as Peter. But to have made love with a man--no, she corrected herself sharply, not with a man, but to a man--for no other reason than to prove she could arouse him to desire.

How truly appalling. But no more appalling surely than to have got drunk and then made s.e.xual advances to a man with whom one was secretly and very desperately in love.

In love. She, in love with Carter. How ridiculous how impossible.

Anyway, she didn't believe in falling in love. She was far too mature, far too sensible. Mature a woman of her age who made love without even stopping to think of taking any kind of precautions against pregnancy or any thing else.

"Elspeth," she heard Carter saying urgently.

"We've got to talk."

Talk. That was the last thing she wanted to do.

"Go away," she moaned from beneath the bed clothes.

"Please, just go away."

Perhaps he could hear the hysteria she was only just keeping at bay, or perhaps he was really as appalled by the whole thing as she was herself and eager only to escape, to make it plain to her that last night was an aberration, that it meant nothing. Well, there was no need for him to reinforce that truth to her. She was quite prepared to take the blame, to admit that the whole thing had been her fault. And if he thought that she was the kind of woman who believed that just because he had been her first lover, just because she might be carrying his child, just because she was quite despairingly and hopelessly in love with him, it meant that he owed her anything at all, she would soon show him that she wasn't.

She waited until she was sure he was gone before peering over the bedclothes. Outside the sky was a soft grey. The storm was over--her whole life was over, she thought mournfully, getting out of bed and staggering sickly as she felt the full impact of last night's bottle of elderberry wine. Elderberry wine--what on earth had possessed her?

It wasn't even as though she didn't know how strong it was.

In the bathroom, she suppressed a strong desire to be extremely unwell and searched feverishly through her mother's cabinet for something to subdue the riot in her head and stomach.

Finding nothing, she made do with cleaning her teeth with enough vigour to make her head ache even further, having a shower, washing her hair, acknowledging that it was too likely that she wouldn't even be able to keep an aspirin down and making herself a promise that the first thing she was going to do was to drive to the village and buy herself some Alka Seltzer.

Driving her car down the b.u.mpy lane was a form of self-inflicted torture that made her vow she would never touch another drop of alcohol in her life. She parked her car in the village and climbed out cautiously. The pain in her head had reached catastrophic proportions, and she was only thankful that her poor eyes weren't forced to endure the bright light of the sun.

She had almost reached the chemist when someone stopped her, a bright female voice calling her name. She turned round, recognising one of the girls she had been at school with.

She had two small children in tow and she grinned happily when she saw Elspeth.

"My goodness, what on earth's the matter with you?" she asked anxiously, seeing Elspeth's white face.

"Hangover," Elspeth admitted unwillingly, wincing as Louise laughed.

"You? I don't believe it. Weren't you the one who virtuously refused to join in when we all drank that bottle of cider behind the bike sheds?"

"Yes--more's the pity. If I had done, I'd have had more sense than to get myself in this state."

"Did--er--Carter join you in this revelry?" her friend enquired dulcetly.

Elspeth shot her an acid look. She and Louise had once been close friends, and still kept in touch. She had been Louise's senior bridesmaid when she'd married Alien, and she was G.o.dmother to both her girls.

"Carter?" she repeated with what she hoped was convincing disinterest.

"Yes. He is staying at your folks' place, isn't he? Alien said he was bidding at yesterday's auction.

He got the old Thatchford place, didn't he, and those fields next to your parents? Which reminds me--did seeing him again stir up any of those wanton teenage yearnings? " She giggled conspiratorially.

"Remember how both of us used to drool over him that summer your aunt first brought him here?"

Elspeth, who had been concentrating solely on the news Louise had just given her, looked at her friend and snapped defensively, "You may have drooled--I never did. I disliked him. I always have."

"Oh, come on. I know that was what you liked to pretend, but we both know the truth. Remember how I caught you writing his name all over the front of your maths rough-book, and drawing hearts all over the place with his initials on them. You were crazy about him. We both were. Remember how we used to wonder what it would be like if he kissed us. My G.o.d, when I look at these two and remember what I've got to go through I start thinking I ought to lock them up in a nunnery.

How's Peter, by the way? You two set a date yet? "

"No--nor are we going to," Elspeth told her shortly, ignoring her friend's surprise and pressing her hand to her aching head.