‘The night you brought me here after you’d announced our engagement. I told you I knew you had an ulterior motive, and you agreed. Surely you remember? I told you there was simply no way I was going to help you.’
‘I remember that bit all right,’ Drew agreed in a very dry voice, ‘but I… Tell me more about my motives in getting engaged to you, Kirsty,’ he demanded thoughtfully. ‘You guessed I had an ulterior motive, go on from there.’
‘If it had been anyone else I would have thought they were just trying to protect me because you knew… I…’
‘Because you were still a virgin and I knew it, whatever Beverley might care to imply, and I didn’t want the rest of the cast believing you were my mistress, but of course I wouldn’t be gentleman enough to do that—is that what you’re saying?’
Put like that it sounded almost insulting.
‘You were so angry with me in Winton,’ Kirsty palliated. ‘And with every right.’ She bit her lip. ‘I had no right to try and do what I did. It was unforgivable—and childish. I was wrongly cast in the Howard play, and…’
‘Did it never occur to you that I might have another reason for forcing our engagement on you?’
Kirsty stared up at him, puzzled.
‘Like what?’
Wry self-mockery gleamed in his eyes, his smile slightly mocking. ‘My dear Kirsty, you are one very dense young woman. Come over here.’
Puzzled, she did as he bid, gasping as, when she got within arm’s reach of him, he took hold of her shoulders, his hands sliding up into her hair as he drew her closer; close enough for her body to respond dismayingly to his proximity. Her lips parted automatically as his hovered over them, and then he was kissing her, gently at first, and more fiercely as his fingers tightened into her hair, tilting her head back, and her emotions ran out of control.
It was several breathless seconds before he released her.
‘Doesn’t that tell you anything?’ he asked huskily.
Her tongue touched dry lips nervously.
‘It tells me you find me desirable,’ she managed at last. ‘Even though I am a virgin.’ There was bitterness in the final words and she found herself back in Drew’s arms, her chin held firmly so that she was forced to meet his eyes.
‘Perhaps I ought to try a different tack,’ he murmured dulcetly. ‘When I kiss you, what do you feel? Merely desire?’
Kirsty’s face flamed. ‘I…’ She struggled to break free of his arms, unsure of her ability to lie when he was looking right into her eyes. ‘I…’
‘Will it help if I tell you that I love you and have done since you walked out of my bedroom and caused havoc in my life—something I once swore I’d never allow any woman to do—? It’s quite true,’ Drew promised softly, ‘so true that unless you say something quickly I’ll be forced to prove it with actions rather than words. Have you any idea what it’s been like?’ he groaned suddenly. ‘Wanting you, loving you, and all the time terrified of losing you?’
‘Every idea,’ Kirsty replied quietly. This time when his eyes searched hers she felt no need to hide her feelings.
‘When?’ he asked softly, but she knew what he was asking.
‘Probably from the first time you touched me. I told myself it was merely your experience coupled with too much to drink, but deep down inside I know it wasn’t, and then you got at my part as Hero and I hated you as I’d never hated anyone before. You see, I thought you were trying to trap me into making a fool of myself so that you could dismiss me from Much Ado and your life, with one doubly humiliating blow.’
‘When in reality I was trying to tie you to me with as many strings as I could, praying that in time I could make you love me. I already knew you wanted me,’ he murmured, enjoying her blush. ‘But as you were ten years younger than me and still a virgin I couldn’t simply use sexual magnetism to trap you into a marriage you might later regret. But every time I thought I was making headway I came up against a brick wall.’
‘Because I thought you were using me to make Beverley jealous!’
‘Didn’t it occur to you ever that if I was I was using pretty drastic action?’ he asked. ‘And you still haven’t told me you love me,’ he reminded her.
‘Don’t you know?’
‘How should I? Because you responded to me physically?’ he mocked gently. ‘It was like wine to a man yearning for water. God, I wanted you, but I was terrified of losing my head; getting drunk on the wine of physical desire and frightening you away for ever. I want your love as well as your desire, Kirsty, and permanently—I’d never settle for anything less.’
‘You won’t have to.’
The shy words fell into a pool of silence which lasted so long that Kirsty thought after all she had misunderstood him and he didn’t love her, until she looked up into his face and saw the raw hunger mingled with a relief that found an aching response inside her.
‘Dear God,’ he exclaimed piously, ‘I feel as though, having attempted to climb it for years, I’ve suddenly reached the peak of Everest, and I can see the whole world spread out below it.’
‘Was it worthwhile?’ Kirsty asked mischievously.
‘I feel so good I can hardly believe it’s true. Perhaps you might convince me?’
Shyly at first and then with growing confidence, Kirsty slid her arms round him, lifting her face for his kiss. It was fiercely intense, burning away all the doubts and misunderstandings, and it left her breathless and weak with desire.
‘I want to make at least one thing clear.’ Drew was releasing her reluctantly. ‘There was never anything between Beverley and me of a romantic nature. She wanted to back one of my plays—that was the reason we were meeting in Winton. She wanted to keep it a secret, but I had second thoughts—I wasn’t so desperate for a backer that I needed to sell myself in exchange,’ he told her frankly. ‘Oh, and by the way—that crit which started the whole thing off?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m afraid I have a confession to make.’
Kirsty waited.
‘I didn’t actually write it. Oh, I saw the play and made a few notes—you were no worse than the others and obviously very inexperienced; the person who wrote the crit from my notes got the names mixed up. The person intended to bear the full brunt of my criticism was the lead actress. I hear they dropped her from the play when it reached New York, but by the time I realised about the mistake it was too late to rectify it. That’s why I asked Simon to give you a chance—although I must admit my reasons weren’t entirely altruistic. I knew you’d make an excellent Hero, but I also wanted to keep you where I could see you. When Beverley announced that we’d been sleeping together, I made the most of it. I only wish she’d been right,’ he added throatily. ‘These last weeks have been hellish frustrating, especially when every time I closed my eyes all I could see was you.’
‘They haven’t exactly been blissful for me either,’ Kirsty told him shakily. ‘I loved you so much…’
‘Show me.’
It was half an hour later before Drew reluctantly released her. Her small moan of protest was smothered by his mouth, before he pushed her away gently.
‘Having waited this long, I think I can wait until you become Mrs Chalmers. Don’t look like that—it won’t be very long, I promise you, and now we’d better get back to that damned party before your father comes after me with his shotgun!’
It was early in the morning before the party finally broke up. Kirsty would far rather have spent the time alone with Drew, but she acknowledged the wisdom of returning to join the others. He had been surprised and then delighted when she told him that once they were married she would probably give up the stage, apart from the odd temporary role, perhaps, filling in when vacancies came along.
‘Not entirely, I hope,’ he had counselled her. ‘I want a partner, Kirsty, and I want you to be happy.’
‘I’ll never have the dedication to get to the top,’ Kirsty told him honestly, ‘and I no longer want to.’
‘Kirsty, I’ve got a bone to pick with you,’ Chelsea interrupted, wandering over to join them, her arm linked with her husband’s. ‘You told me you weren’t going to fall in love until you were at least twenty-six,’ she reminded her niece, ‘and now I won’t have enough time.’
‘What for?’
‘Why to produce a little flower girl, of course,’ she grinned. ‘Still, there is John Charles…’
‘Not unless he accompanies her down the aisle in his pram,’ Drew put in firmly. ‘I’m not waiting long—and certainly not long enough for him to learn to walk. I couldn’t,’ he added huskily, with a look for Kirsty that melted her bones to fluid.
‘Something tells me we’re de trop,’ Slade murmured sotto voce, ‘and besides…’
‘Besides what?’ his wife enquired as he led her discreetly away.
‘I’ve just realised how long it is since I’ve been alone with you, Mrs Ashford,’ he murmured wickedly. ‘Drew and Kirsty don’t have the monopoly on romance, you know.’