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his encircling arms, but it was difficult, and after two dances he
pulled her purposefully to him, his lips against her temple, and
muttered, 'For God's sake, let go a bit. Put your arms round me.'
Hesitantly she linked her hands behind his neck, but the touch of
reined-in temper in his voice hadn't helped, and her body in his arms
was as stiff as ever. The evening was rapidly becoming a disaster.
Kyla felt both tense and depressed, and Marc seemed to be trying too
hard to overcome her mood and his own.
When they entered their room at the hotel again, he shed his jacket
and tie and walked over to the window, looking out at the lights and
the people who still hurried by in the street below. Kyla used the
bathroom and came out wearing her robe over her nightgown. She
put away her clothes, and Marc still stood with his back to her at the
window. She hesitated, her hand on the belt of her robe, and he
turned slowly and came over to her.
She stood very still, but when his hand tipped her face up, her eyes
went dark and frightened under the searing intentness of his
examination.
Marc's face was hard, and as he took in her expression, his mouth
twisted. 'Go to bed,' he said, in a tone of weary disgust. 'Obviously
you're not in the mood tonight. I don't feel much like a loving
husband myself. I'd probably hurt you in the end.'
He dropped his hand and left her, turning abruptly away and going
into the bathroom.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE following day they did the sightseers' things crossed the
famous bridge across the harbour, admired the fantastic soaring-
layered wings of the Opera House roof from a distance, and later
wandered through some of its rooms, took a ferry boat ride on the
harbour and admired the giant span of the bridge again from there.
Late in the day they wandered through a green park, read the
inscriptions on the monument to war dead, and lazed under a leafy
tree, idly watching the crowds hurrying along a distant, street.
Marc took Kyla's hand in his and laid it on his knee, idly playing,
with her fingers and touching his rings on her third finger. He had
been rather aloofly pleasant all day, an undemanding and thoughtful
companion. And Kyla had tried to match his manner, finding it easier
as the day wore on to relax and enjoy herself.
He was looking down at her hand as he touched it, his thumb running
over her knuckles, then caressing her palm as he turned it over. There
was a faint frown between his brows and his mouth looked stern.
'Marc -' she began.
'Yes?' He didn't look up, and his voice sounded oddly terse.
'You don't you haven't been wondering if there Was something in
what Toby said last night, have you that I might have left home to
have a baby?'
'Let's forget about Toby,' he said, dropping her hand and shifting to
lie back on his hands. 'He's a fool.' ,
'You didn't answer my question.'
Marc sat up, staring at her. 'Did it need an answer? Of course I
haven't been thinking any such thing! In your case, the idea's
ludicrous.'
"Why?'
'My darling, you've never had a love affair in your life have you?'
"No. But how could you be so certain?'
'For an intelligent girl you ask some very silly questions.'
'Well, you haven't you don't have any proof, do you?'
Deliberately he said, 'Not yet. I don't need it. I've no doubt there will
be sufficient 'proof' when the time comes.'
'A lack of evidence isn't always conclusive,' she said huskily. 'Did
you know that?'
'I did, as a matter of fact. I wasn't necessarily thinking of the kind of
evidence that forms a part of primitive mar- rage rites. There are
more subtle signs that are just as telling. Not always physical ones.'
'You think you know all about me, don't you?' she said, her face
troubled.
'Oh, no, I have a lot to find out about you. And there's a certain rather
important area of knowledge about each other which we've barely
touched as yet.'
Kyla looked down at her hands, and in a moment, one of Marc's
reached out to cover them warmly. 'Don't fret about it,' he said.
'Everything doesn't have to happen, at once. We've all the time in the
world, if you just let things happen naturally. And they will. But only
as fast and as far as you want.'
'You're being very patient,' she said quietly.
'I can afford to be. I've got till death us do part. And I don't intend to
die for a long time yet.'
'I hope not!'
Marc's arm came round her, holding her close. 'Thank you. I like that
touch of terror in your voice. Makes me feel wanted.'
'Beast!' she muttered, her face muffled against his shirt. 'Marc- -'
'Mm?' His lips brushed her temple, and as she hesitated, he lifted her
face with a hand beneath her chin. 'Don't look so worried,' he said.
It's going to be all right.'
She tried to speak again, thinking that in this gentle mood he might
make it easy for her. But as her lips parted on the words, his mouth
claimed hers in a sweet, passionate possession. She lay quietly in his
arms, until he lifted his head a little and murmured, 'No response?'
Her lips quivered as she tried to answer him, and he took them again,
kissing her unmercifully until she trembled and made a tiny
protesting sound in her throat.
'Marc!' she gasped when he finally let her speak. 'There are people -'
'Unfortunately,' he agreed. His eyes held a disconcerting glitter, as he
released her. 'It isn't illegal to kiss my wife in a public place, though.'
Kyla didn't answer, standing up to smooth her hair and shake out her
skirt. She avoided his eyes, knowing he was watching her intently.
'Let's go back to the hotel,' he said.
But when he took her in his arms in the intimacy of their room, and
pulled her down on the bed, she was suddenly inhibited again, her
fears and doubts swamping the wakening delight of her senses.
Eventually he rolled away and stood up, turning from her while he
did up the buttons on his shirt and thrust back the dark disorder of his
hair.
Kyla swung her feet to the floor, her back to him as she sat on the
bed and put her hands to her hair. She had stopped him when he tried
to take out the pins, but a few loose strands brushed her nape, and she
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