The Haunting of Highdown Hall by Shani Struthers Page A

those gorgeous shoulders, smooth and golden in colour, he had let his head fall into his hands.
    “You love me, I know you do.”
    How did he know? She had never told him so.
    “Cynthia,” he had turned to her then, his voice beseeching. “Why won’t you marry me?”
    Again, she hadn’t answered. Instead, she had slipped from the bed, intending to make her way to the bathroom, to shower. She had only taken a few steps when he was by her side again, naked also, grabbing at her wrists. Encircling them with his hands.
    “God, Cynthia, you’re infuriating.”
    She knew she was. She also knew he found her attitude towards him arousing. That was something John Sterling had liked – the chase. Too easily women fell at his feet.
    He was beginning to stir again; she could feel him pressing against her thigh.
    Lowering her eyes, deliberately demure, she had smiled at him, fully expecting to be thrown back onto the bed, to be ravaged all over again. To hell with her shower.
    He had looked into her eyes – she remembered it clearly – holding her with his gaze as firmly as he held her wrists. Her breath had caught in her throat. Any minute now, his lips would be on hers, his tongue exploring deep inside her, first her mouth and then more sensitive, secret places. She braced herself, waiting. But he had surprised her. He had thrown her from him as though she were poison itself.
    “John... !” she had started. No, she would not beg. She would never beg again.
    John had grabbed at his clothes, torn off him hours ago and thrown to the floor.
    “I can’t do this anymore!” he had muttered under his breath.
    Fury had ignited in her; she remembered that too, another black mood rapidly descending.
    “Can’t do what anymore?” She grabbed at his wrist now.
    How easily he had flung her off.
    “I can’t share you, Cynthia. I won’t share you.”
    “In that you have no choice.”
    “I do.” His voice had been low, a growl. “I can walk out of this room right now and never return. I can leave you, Cynthia, to become a parody of yourself, which is what you’ll be if you don’t stop doing what you’re doing, believing in the hype that surrounds you. Commit to me, Cynthia, without me...”
    She hadn’t let him finish.
    “Without you I’m nothing? Is that what you’re trying to say? Don’t make me laugh! I belong to no man, do you hear me, John, no man. Least of all you. Without me, you are nothing. I am the world’s darling, I am the one they adore, you are pale in comparison.”
    “The world’s darling today, tomorrow second best. I’ve seen it happen, Cynthia, I’ve seen how it destroys people. Don’t let fame be the only thing you have in your life.”
    “Fame is enough!” she had screamed at him.
    Again he held her gaze. She had read the contempt in his eyes; contempt and despair. Without another word, he pulled on his clothes and left the bedroom. Not even a backwards glance.
    She had fallen onto the bed – alone. Reeling from what he had said to her. At how quickly the mood had turned sour. How dare John try to cage her, to own her? She belonged to no one, no one. A shiver ran through her as she realised this wasn’t strictly true. She did belong to someone. Lytton had made sure of it. Lytton! Why had she allowed herself to fall under his spell? So many times she had asked herself that question. She had been young and naive, she had been desperate – so different to the person she was today. And the man she belonged to, if you could call him a man, he was here, she was certain of it. Not John, the antithesis of John. He watched her every move, blocking her path to the light that she could see shining in the distance, a light that looked so inviting but she knew was also a trick. As soon as she tried to reach it, he would step forward; drag her down with him to an existence even worse than this. The girl, the old woman, they did not know what they were talking about; who they were dealing with. She