Free Kelly's Man by Rosemary Carter Page B

softly, the sound of a man without a care in the world.
    At last all was still. Very quietly Kelly lifted herself from the bed, walked to the door on bare feet and opened it just a crack. The room was in darkness, and she could hear the sound of slow steady breathing. She closed the door again and went to the mirror.
    The face she saw there was quite unlike the one Kelly Stanwick normally presented to the world. Auburn curls were tangled and untidy. Her cheeks were flushed, and in her green eyes was a look of searing wildness. On her lips was a spot of dry blood—Nicholas's or her own? She remembered she had bitten him. Was it possible that he had retaliated? Gingerly she took a tissue and wiped away the blood. It was indeed Nicholas's. But she saw that her own lips were bruised.
    Quietly, for she did not want to waken Nicholas, she took a shower and put on her nightie. Then she slid beneath the sheets of the double bed.
     

CHAPTER FIVE
    F OR hours, it seemed, Kelly lay sleepless. The curtains were open and so were the windows, for there was a netting-screen to keep out the insects of the night. The fragrance of the tropical shrubs wafted in from the garden, and the sky was studded with stars.
    She lay very still. Looking out into the darkness of the African night, she relived all that had happened. Her body was bruised from the struggle with Nicholas. Her emotions were battered.
    The rational part of her mind was still outraged with the manner in which Nicholas had forced himself on to her. It was this rational part which told her that she hated him now more than ever before; that the sooner she could leave Great Peaks Lodge and never see Nicholas Van Mijden again, the better it would be.
    But there was another part of her which spoke differently. Paradoxically, this part was filled with a strange kind of elation. For Kelly knew that in all her life she had never felt quite so vital and alive, quite so feminine. And with this realisation came another. Lying alone in the stillness of the night, she could admit to herself that Nicholas had stirred her to such an extent that she had been fighting herself even more than she had been fighting him. There had come a moment in his love-making when her barriers of resistance had crumbled. At that moment there had been only the wish to surrender, to be as close to him as a woman can be to a man. She wondered what would have happened if Nicholas had not given in to her plea.
    If this knowledge filled her with elation—for she had never known she could be so stirred by a man —it filled her as well with despair. In the society in which she moved there were many women who took their fun where they could get it. Kelly was different. She had always associated sex with love, and love with marriage. And here was the reason for her confusion. She did not love Nicholas—she could not love him. She was in love with Gary. And yet there was no denying that Nicholas had raised her to heights she had never dreamed existed, and in doing so he had turned her world upside down.
    What would he say if he knew how she felt? Would the grey eyes light with the mockery she so detested, and the mobile lips curve in a cruel smile? But he would never know, she vowed. As soon as Mary Anderson returned, Kelly would be free to go back to Durban. She would not see Nicholas again. And she could only pray that his image would eventually cease to haunt her.
    It was a long time before she closed her eyes. Finally she fell into a deep and exhausted sleep. She was awoken quite suddenly. Behind her closed lids there was darkness, but from somewhere near her came the aromatic smell of freshly-brewed coffee.
    A little dazed, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Only half awake, she was not yet fully conscious of her surroundings. And then her eyes opened, and she saw that she was in the double bed of the Andersons. Standing next to the bed was Nicholas, and in his hand was a cup of coffee.
    Hastily she clutched at the