Free Rafferty's Legacy by Jane Corrie Page B

herself pulled out of her chair and held in an unbreakable hold. Whatever restraint Carl had put upon himself was now gone, and he was a very purposeful man. `By heaven,' he said through clenched teeth, 'I've had enough of this! I've tried to get through to you, but you're determined to get back at me, aren't you? It's one way of telling me there's to be no second chance, is that it? Wipe the slate clean and forget me? Well, I'm not going to let you do it, do you hear? So I took a hell of a knock when I found out who you were, I'm not denying it. I was punch-drunk for the rest of that day, and I don't recall much of what happened the following day either,' he added grimly, 'but I'm good and sober now. One thing alone stood out way above matters of pride and years of bitterness between the Eltons and the Raffertys, and that was you and me. The Raffertys aren't taking you from me.'
    His gaze centred on her lips, and knowing what was coming, she tried to twist her face away from him, but he caught the back of her hair and forced her to accept his kiss, saying as his lips met hers,
     
    'You can fight me for the rest of eternity. I'm not going to let you go.'
    A stunned Teresa felt his lips on hers; gentle at first, then with a growing passion, and she tried to understand what was happening to her. She didn't feel distaste or disgust at the feel of his lips on hers, but she felt she should have done, and that brought her a great sadness. This man loved her, of that she was in no doubt. He was telling her so with his lips, and she couldn't respond, and it was no use pretending she could.
    He held her away from him, and looked into her eyes. There was something about the lost, blank look in her lovely eyes that made him catch his breath sharply and jerk her to him again, holding her suffocatingly close to him. 'Oh, no ' he groaned. `So it's true, then?' he whispered against her hair. 'You don't know me, do you?'
    Teresa moved her head in dumb confirmation, and attempted to pull herself out of his arms. This time he let her go and gently settled her back in her chair again, then stood looking down at her.
    'I'm sorry,' she whispered, `so terribly sorry. I don't remember anything.' Her gaze left her hands that were locked together, and she stared up at him with pleading eyes. 'I only know what my uncle told me—I even had to be told my name.' She hesitated. `I know you met me in England, and brought me out here.' She hesitated again; it wouldn't be wise to say 'to marry me', not now, she thought miserably. 'I know I lost my mother and brother before I left,' she swallowed. 'I can't remember them either—my uncle couldn't tell me anything about that part of my life.'
     
    She looked quickly away from those searching-- eyes of his, and down to her hands again. She didn't want to tell him that that had been the only reason she had wanted to see him—to try and find out about her family, for he must have met them. But the urge to know compelled her to ask the question. 'Did you meet my people?' she asked quickly before her conscience stopped her.
    To her, disappointment Carl did not answer her question, but posed one of his own. It was clear that his mind was on other matters. 'What happened?' he asked quietly.
    It took a second for Teresa to understand the question, and although she was disappointed that he had disregarded hers, conceded that he had a right to know. 'I fell,' she said slowly, wrinkling her forehead in an effort of memory. 'I was doing some wallpapering, my uncle said, and I hit my head somehow as I fell.'
    She looked up at him expectantly. Perhaps now he would answer her question? Again she was disappointed, for his expression had hardened, and she saw he was too incensed by her answer to give her satisfaction.
    'Wallpapering!' he exclaimed in disgust, and Teresa saw his hands clench into fists again. 'And that old fool let you do it!'
    She lifted her brows at this bald statement. 'I must have wanted to do it,' she