LASZLO WOKE WITH a start. His room was dark and cold but it was not the cool night air which had shaken him from sleep. He shivered and rolled onto his side, feeling his heart drumming against his chest. It had been a long time since ‘the dream’ had woken him—so long he had almost forgotten the mixture of apprehension and panic that followed in its wake. Of course the feeling of dread would subside, but Prudence Elliot wasn’t just haunting his dreams now. She was here, in his home, sleeping under his roof, her presence tugging at him like a fish hook.
Scowling, he rolled onto his back. In the darkness, he felt his cheeks grow warm.
Last night Prudence had accused him of being a coward and a liar. Her accusations—so unexpected, so bitter—had left him breathless; and now they lay lodged under his heart, cold and solid like stone. He rolled back onto his side, trying to shift the memory of her words, but the empty space beside him seemed only to strengthen their tenacity.
He felt misery swell in his chest.
Once upon a time he had imagined Prudence lying next to him in this very bed—had imagined bringing her to the castle as his new bride, even pictured her face, her surprise and excitement. He frowned. And now she was here. Only she was sleeping in a guest room and she had come not as his wife but as an unbidden, unwelcome intruder.
He grunted crossly. No matter. She would be gone soon enough. His breathing sounded suddenly harsh in the darkness, and anger, frustration and resentment fused in a rip tide of emotion.
Gritting his teeth, he shifted irritably beneath the sheets, knowing that sleep was inconceivable now. He fumbled in the darkness for the bedside lamp and a soft light illuminated the room. Squinting, he rolled onto his side. What the hell was wrong with him? Prudence’s imminent departure should have comforted him, so why was the thought of it making him feel more tense?
He swallowed. Guilt. That was why. Picturing his grandfather’s disappointment, he frowned through the ache in his chest. But what choice had he had? Working with her, living with her, would have been intolerable. Laszlo shivered, his jaw tightening. Firing her had been the right, the only thing to do. And it should have been the end of it. Only then she’d told him she wanted a divorce.
He winced inwardly: divorce. She’d thrown the word at him carelessly, almost as an afterthought. But to him it had felt like a punch to the head. Grimacing, he punched the pillow in return and lay back again. She had been so insistent—she who had never known her own mind, who had questioned every tiny detail. Demanding her freedom! Freedom from something she’d never even believed in.
The only thing that had mattered had been hurting her and proving her wrong, and so he’d kissed her. And, feeling her melt against him, he’d felt a surge of triumph. Only now the triumph had faded and he was lost—swept far away, a stranger to himself, his entire body a quivering mass of frustrated desire.
Damn her! He shouldn’t be feeling like this; after all, he hated Prudence Elliot. A muscle flickered in his jaw and suddenly, remembering her mouth beneath his, his body instantly and painfully tightened. He rubbed his hands tiredly over his face. Okay: he wanted her. That was undeniable. Maybe hatred was the wrong word. It certainly didn’t do justice to this whole set of feelings that were plaguing him now. Not that he even really knew what they were. Just that his life had grown infinitely more complicated and less certain overnight.
Abruptly he tired of his thoughts and hoping to shift the uneasy, shifting mass of arguments inside his head, he switched off the lamp and stared at the window, watching the light creep under the curtains. And then, feeling suddenly drained, he slid down under the bedclothes and sleep came at last as the sun began to warm his room.
* * *
It was time to leave.
Pressing herself into the corner of the taxi, Prudence sat back and, closing her eyes, said a silent farewell to Kastely Almasy. It should have been a relief to leave, to know that this was the end. But as the car accelerated down the drive she was fighting hard not to give in to the sense of failure and desolation that filled her chest. How could it have come to this?
Sadly, she remembered the first time she’d seen Laszlo. It had been at a funfair, and even though she’d been almost intoxicated by the lights and the noise, the screaming and too much sugar, she had still lost her footing when she’d noticed him standing slightly aloof from the crowd. His dark-eyed beauty had been like a shot of neat alcohol. A rushing, teasing dizziness she could still remember. In that moment, she had fallen swiftly and irrevocably in love and later lying in his arms, she had felt invincible in the sanctum of their intimacy.
Prudence sat up straighter, her jaw tightening. But that had been seven years ago. Now all that remained of that exhilaration and ecstasy was a crushing hangover. She sighed irritably. Tiredness was making her self-indulgent. Last night sleep had eluded her. Images from the evening, dark like wine, had spilled and spread through her dreams: Laszlo’s brooding gaze, the sensual curve of his mouth, his strong hands reaching out to pull her closer...
Her body stilled as she remembered the fierce, vivid pleasure of his kiss and how badly she had wanted him to keep kissing her and touching her and—
Abruptly, her eyes opened. And what? She caught her breath. Wasn’t letting him kiss her a big enough mistake? Perhaps she should sleep with him too, just to make her humiliation complete? Maybe then the message would get through to her. That his kiss had been nothing to do with passion and everything to do with power.
She should have slapped him or pushed him away—or better still run away. But of course she’d done nothing of the sort. Her body had been utterly beyond her control—her hunger, her need for him, hot and unstoppable like lava. Even though he’d been so cruelly vindictive and unreasonable, everything and everyone—her family, her career, her pride—had been surrendered to the honeyed sweetness of his lips and the warm, treacherous pleasure gathering inside her.
Wincing, Prudence bit her lip. What had happened last night shouldn’t have happened. But it wasn’t surprising that it had. Last night their past had dropped into the present like an atom bomb. She and Laszlo had been like the survivors of a blast, staggering around, unable to speak or hear. Physical intimacy had been inevitable, for they had both been wounded and needing comfort. And besides, sex had always been the way they’d communicated best.
She stared bleakly out of the window, feeling the comet’s tail of h
is caresses trailing over her skin, and then she shivered, feeling suddenly empty and drained. Now was not the time to be indulging in fantasies. Laszlo Cziffra might still be her ‘husband’ but he was not her lover. He was the enemy, and that kiss had been a ruthless demonstration of his power—not some resurrection of the passion they had once shared.
She lifted her chin, feeling anger effervesce inside her. How dare he twist what had been beautiful and blissful between them for his own ends! He was a monster! A bullying, manipulative monster. For all that talk of being married was just that: talk. After all, what kind of a husband would sack his own wife?
Seething with frustration, she glanced out of the window at the wall that edged the estate, her thoughts scampering in every direction. How could he just fire her anyway? She frowned. She, or rather Seymour’s, had been hired by Mr Janos de Zsadany—not Laszlo Cziffra!
She felt another spasm of anger and then suddenly, unthinkingly, leant forward and hammered on the glass behind the taxi driver’s head.
‘Stop! Stop the car, please!’
She was out of the taxi before it had even ground to a halt and she caught a glimpse of the driver’s startled face as she half stepped, half fell onto the road.
‘S-sorry,’ she stammered breathlessly. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that I’ve realised there’s something I need to do back at the castle.’ She felt her cheeks burn as the man stared at her incredulously. ‘I just remembered it. Just then,’ she said hurriedly. ‘So I’ll just go back and...’
Her voice tailed off as he frowned and, suddenly remembering that she needed to pay, Prudence reached hastily into her handbag. But the driver shook his head.