Forgotten Passion. Penny Jordan

a baby,’ she teased, ‘but then how old are you?’

      ‘Seventeen—almost,’ Lisa told her.

      ‘Is that all? I thought you were nineteen at least.’

      Lisa found her words wonderfully uplifting after Rorke’s apparent unawareness of the change in her appearance, but it was hard not to notice how Helen constantly touched Rorke’s arm when she spoke to him; their low-voiced murmurs wafting across the table, making Lisa long to get up from the table and run as far and as fast as she could to escape the evidence of their intimacy.

      After dinner Helen insisted that she wanted to dance. She knew of a nightclub, she told Rorke. They could all go on there. All except Lisa, she suggested, glancing pointedly at the younger girl.

      ‘Oh, of course she can come with us,’ Sandra protested. ‘If she wants to, and I’m sure she does. A pretty girl wearing a new dress always wants to show it off.’

      Helen looked far from pleased, and Lisa held her breath, half expecting Rorke to tell her that she was to go to her room, but to her surprise he said nothing, merely looking grimly unforthcoming as Peter took her arm and escorted her from the table.

      The nightclub was hot and cramped, and although she wasn’t going to admit it, Lisa would have much preferred to be walking along the beach at St Martin’s, the soft evening breeze cooling her overheated skin and blowing freely in her hair.

      ‘Lisa?’

      She came out of her reverie to find Rorke towering over her while Helen glowered furiously, and Sandra and Peter exchanged comprehensive glances.

      ‘Lisa, I’m asking you to dance,’ Rorke reminded her.

      ‘To dance?’ She looked up at him wildly, heady excitement racing through her veins. Like someone in a dream she followed him on to the small crowded floor. The steel band were playing a tune with a powerfully sensual beat, and Lisa found her body seemed to have its own rhythm, as Rorke took her in his arms, his palms flat against the bare skin of her shoulders.

      ‘I don’t think Helen likes you dancing with me,’ Lisa murmured as she glanced towards their table and saw Helen watching them, fury in the catlike eyes.

      ‘Damn Helen,’ Rorke muttered ruthlessly, stunning her with the fierce intensity of his words, his fingers tightening on her shoulders as he drew her closer towards him. ‘And damn you, Lisa,’ he muttered thickly, ‘for making me feel like this. God, you’re a child… or so I keep telling myself, but seeing you tonight, holding you in my arms…’

      A tremor ripped through him, and Lisa could see the sheen of perspiration on his face. Rorke—Rorke whom she had always thought of as invincible, was trembling because he was holding her in his arms. She could hardly believe it, but it was true!

      ‘Lisa!’ He groaned her name against her hair, holding her even closer, close enough for her to feel the fixed rigidity of his body, the pulsating heat it radiated. His mouth left her hair, seeking the tender curve of her throat. A maelstrom of emotion gripped her. Her body shivered delicately as his mouth plundered the soft sweetness of her skin. His hands shaped her to him, her breasts crushed against his chest, the hardness of his body compelling hers to yield and mould itself to him.

      Distantly she was aware of Helen, glaring furiously at her, knowing that she was warning Lisa that she would make her pay for the pleasure of being in Rorke’s arms, but she felt too deliriously happy to care. Even so, it wasn’t pleasant, feeling Helen’s eyes boring into the back of her neck, and as though he sensed her distress Rorke questioned frowningly, ‘Is something wrong?’

      ‘It’s just that it’s so hot in here,’ Lisa told him, not wanting to admit that Helen made her feel uncomfortable. What was between them was too new and precious for her to talk freely. She had no idea what had brought about the transformation in Rorke, but she wasn’t going to jeopardise it by criticising Helen to him.

      ‘Feel like a walk, then, to cool off?’

      There was a disturbing glint in his eyes, a curve to his mouth that made Lisa’s heart race.

      ‘That would be very nice,’ she managed sedately, hoping he wouldn’t guess how understated her comment was.