make matters worse.’
‘You gave your word!’
She shrugged, so what ?
The sheer bloody unfairness of it made his temples throb. He hated being rebuffed, especially by a woman. Growing up without parents had made him want to be wanted, but despite his taking such trouble, she hadn’t moved an inch. Not a fucking inch.
He seized her arm, but she was stronger than he’dexpected and she shrugged free of him with as much scorn as if he were one of those beggars who used to hang around the Colosseum, pestering for cash.
‘How dare you touch me!’ She hissed with disdain.
Even in the cold and wet, his skin burned with outrage. Who was she to treat him like a piece of shit? She ought to be glad to do as he asked. That was the deal with women. You acted kind and sensitive and they owed you something in return.
He strove for calm, despite her provocation. ‘You made a promise. There’s no going back on it.’
She stared at him, defiance mixing with a grimace of triumph.
‘I won’t be bullied. Can’t you understand? I changed my mind. It’s that simple, there’s no more to be said.’
She turned to leave and he reached for her again. This time she was ready to dodge his grasp, but in twisting away she caught her toe on a stone and lost her footing. A moment later, she was lying on the floor and he was bending over her. It was akin to conquest. Adrenaline surged through him. She was at his mercy, he could do whatever he wanted.
‘Wait. I haven’t finished talking.’
She didn’t utter another word as she lifted herself up. All she did was show her teeth in contempt, as if he were a flea-ridden mongrel. That said everything. To her, he wasn’t a smart, sophisticated intermediary, someone with whom she could do business. She could see right through him, see the man he was, deep inside.
‘Listen to me!’ he shouted.
She spat in his face.
He brought his hand down to slap her, but she dodged out of reach. In so doing, she slipped on the icy ground. As she tumbled, she hit her head on a small boulder. The cracking of her skull sounded like a rifle shot.
Guy blinked the dampness away, told himself it was rain, not tears. For a decade, he’d blocked out every detail of his brief encounter with Emma Bestwick. But here there was no escaping her.
He couldn’t see a living soul. Even in summer, when the hills were alive with the sound of walkers, few people bothered with this unlovely cleft in the landscape. Within a radius of two or three miles, there were so many more rewarding walks and climbs. No shimmering tarns and breath-snatching vistas at Mispickel Scar. Even in the height of summer, it was chill and eerie. After the miners left, nobody else had much reason to explore its nooks and crannies, seldom lit by sun filtering through the crags. Ten years ago, he’d loved coming here on his own, it was the one place where he wasn’t seized by the compulsion to become someone else. And then Emma Bestwick stole it from him, transformed it into forbidden territory, a place to which he dared not return. Until today.
Picking his way with exaggerated care, he crossed a centuries-old packhorse way, chiselled by hand from solid rock. Breathing hard, limbs hurting. He felt likeone of those lumbering beasts of burden, saddle-bags stuffed with ore, though he’d barely climbed a thousand feet. A gash in the rocks loomed up. A sign bore the word DANGER in tall red letters. He read the warning underneath.
Proceed no further. This route is unsafe and fatal accidents have occurred.
Fatal accidents? Too right.
Impossible to stop now. How had he managed to drag Emma here? Fear and terror must have endowed him with strength.
Something puzzled him. He halted in mid-stride, trying to fathom what was wrong. The profile of the landscape was not as he remembered. At first he thought he must be lost. Ten years was a long time, it was easy to become confused in the absence of landmarks. The stone cairn was far below and out
‘You gave your word!’
She shrugged, so what ?
The sheer bloody unfairness of it made his temples throb. He hated being rebuffed, especially by a woman. Growing up without parents had made him want to be wanted, but despite his taking such trouble, she hadn’t moved an inch. Not a fucking inch.
He seized her arm, but she was stronger than he’dexpected and she shrugged free of him with as much scorn as if he were one of those beggars who used to hang around the Colosseum, pestering for cash.
‘How dare you touch me!’ She hissed with disdain.
Even in the cold and wet, his skin burned with outrage. Who was she to treat him like a piece of shit? She ought to be glad to do as he asked. That was the deal with women. You acted kind and sensitive and they owed you something in return.
He strove for calm, despite her provocation. ‘You made a promise. There’s no going back on it.’
She stared at him, defiance mixing with a grimace of triumph.
‘I won’t be bullied. Can’t you understand? I changed my mind. It’s that simple, there’s no more to be said.’
She turned to leave and he reached for her again. This time she was ready to dodge his grasp, but in twisting away she caught her toe on a stone and lost her footing. A moment later, she was lying on the floor and he was bending over her. It was akin to conquest. Adrenaline surged through him. She was at his mercy, he could do whatever he wanted.
‘Wait. I haven’t finished talking.’
She didn’t utter another word as she lifted herself up. All she did was show her teeth in contempt, as if he were a flea-ridden mongrel. That said everything. To her, he wasn’t a smart, sophisticated intermediary, someone with whom she could do business. She could see right through him, see the man he was, deep inside.
‘Listen to me!’ he shouted.
She spat in his face.
He brought his hand down to slap her, but she dodged out of reach. In so doing, she slipped on the icy ground. As she tumbled, she hit her head on a small boulder. The cracking of her skull sounded like a rifle shot.
Guy blinked the dampness away, told himself it was rain, not tears. For a decade, he’d blocked out every detail of his brief encounter with Emma Bestwick. But here there was no escaping her.
He couldn’t see a living soul. Even in summer, when the hills were alive with the sound of walkers, few people bothered with this unlovely cleft in the landscape. Within a radius of two or three miles, there were so many more rewarding walks and climbs. No shimmering tarns and breath-snatching vistas at Mispickel Scar. Even in the height of summer, it was chill and eerie. After the miners left, nobody else had much reason to explore its nooks and crannies, seldom lit by sun filtering through the crags. Ten years ago, he’d loved coming here on his own, it was the one place where he wasn’t seized by the compulsion to become someone else. And then Emma Bestwick stole it from him, transformed it into forbidden territory, a place to which he dared not return. Until today.
Picking his way with exaggerated care, he crossed a centuries-old packhorse way, chiselled by hand from solid rock. Breathing hard, limbs hurting. He felt likeone of those lumbering beasts of burden, saddle-bags stuffed with ore, though he’d barely climbed a thousand feet. A gash in the rocks loomed up. A sign bore the word DANGER in tall red letters. He read the warning underneath.
Proceed no further. This route is unsafe and fatal accidents have occurred.
Fatal accidents? Too right.
Impossible to stop now. How had he managed to drag Emma here? Fear and terror must have endowed him with strength.
Something puzzled him. He halted in mid-stride, trying to fathom what was wrong. The profile of the landscape was not as he remembered. At first he thought he must be lost. Ten years was a long time, it was easy to become confused in the absence of landmarks. The stone cairn was far below and out
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