It Started With A Kiss - Mary Lyons

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solely due, she realised with a sinking heart, to her own totally foolish loss of temper—Angelica desperately tried to free herself from the man’s fierce grip.

      ‘Let—me—go!’ she panted, frantically redoubling her efforts to escape, and wincing with pain as his iron-like fingers tightened about her wrists.

      ‘I’ve had quite enough of this nonsense,’ he told her softly, the silky ruthlessness in his voice sending a shudder of fright through her trembling figure. ‘I have every intention of letting you go. But not until you’ve calmed down,’ he added, the dark anger in his face slowly subsiding as he gazed down at the struggling girl with an expression of guarded amusement.

      ‘You…you can’t keep me here!’ she lashed back angrily, almost weeping with frustration, and an overpowering sense of her own folly in attempting to confront this apparently invincible man. ‘If you don’t let me go, I’ll call the police! I’ll scream and—’

      ‘Oh, no, you won’t!’ he retorted, responding to her wild threats by swiftly raising his arm, whose wrist bore a wafer-thin gold watch, and placing a large, tanned hand over her mouth.

      ‘I don’t know what you think you’re doing,’ he added grimly over her muffled protests, ‘but I’m not prepared to have my picture on the front page of the gutter press. Nor to have my career in the City ruined by some crazy, hysterical girl!’

      Totally confused by the swift turn of events, Angelica glared up at the man looming over her. Effectively prevented from saying anything by the large, warm hand firmly clamped over her trembling lips, she could do nothing to combat his height and superior strength, which was keeping her immobile and silent until he chose to let her go. And where were the rest of the group? Why hadn’t someone come to her rescue? she wondered, her eyes desperately probing the darkness behind the man’s tall, menacing figure.

      ‘Are you going to be sensible?’ he drawled quietly, gazing down at the girl’s flushed cheeks, her wide blue eyes brimming with unshed tears of acute frustration. ‘There’s no reason why we can’t discuss any problems you might have like two perfectly calm, responsible adults. So, if I take my hand away, will you promise not to scream the place down?’ he added, waiting until she gave a reluctant nod before slowly lowering his arm.

      With hindsight, Angelica might have been prepared to admit that maybe the man wasn’t entirely to blame for what happened next. It was, after all, just possible that he misunderstood the loud gasp of relief which she gave on the removal of his hand. But as she opened her mouth to take a deep gulp of air, he appeared to assume that she was about to break her promise.

      As he ground out, ‘Oh, no, you don’t!’ she found herself crushed tightly to his chest, the fingers of one hand burying themselves in her blonde hair, holding her head firmly against him. She barely had time to register the grim warning in his glittering grey eyes before he swiftly lowered his dark head towards her, preventing her from saying or doing anything as his mouth closed firmly over her lips.

      It was a savage, ruthless kiss, clearly intended to stifle any sound or cry for help. Attempting to move her head or to escape proved useless. Becoming almost faint beneath the force of his lips and her own exertion, she drummed her fists against his broad shoulders in a vain and hopeless attempt to free herself from his tight embrace.

      The next few minutes seemed somehow blurred in her mind. Shocked and totally disoriented by the speed with which she’d been assaulted, Angelica only dimly realised that the mouth which had so firmly possessed her own was no longer burning like a firebrand on her lips. Dazed and confused, she fluttered her eyelids open, to see him gazing down at her with a tense, strained expression on his hard features. The hands which had been gripping her so fiercely were now gently holding her face as his fingers moving softly over the contours of her pale cheeks.

      ‘I don’t know what the hell’s going on. I must be out of my mind!’ he breathed huskily as she continued to stare blindly up at him, her dazed brain unable to comprehend what was happening to her.

      It seemed as though she was viewing the scene from afar—almost as if it was happening to someone else—her senses beguiled by the musky scent of his cologne, and the hard strength of the body pressed closely to her own. Her whole world seemed encompassed by the darkening glitter in the grey eyes, now staring down at her so intently.

      Since she was mentally paralysed, there seemed nothing she could do as he lowered his head to brush his lips softly over her mouth. By the time she had begun to comprehend the almost impossible fact that he was intending to kiss her—yet again!—it was far too late for any effective protest.

      As if in a dream, she became slowly aware of an insidious rising tide of sensual excitement, which flowed like molten lava through every part of her body, the wild beating of her heart echoing like a drum in her ears, her lips parting helplessly beneath the deepening force of his kiss. And then she was lost, responding blindly and with an increasing urgency to the taut, male body pressed so firmly to her softly yielding breasts and thighs.

      Suddenly it was all over as she found herself abruptly released. Swiftly pushing her away, he took a step backwards, cursing harshly beneath his breath and brushing a hand roughly through his thick, dark hair.

      Dazed and trembling, Angelica stared at him in complete confusion, her gaze only slowly following his as he turned to look behind him. What she saw then was enough to make her almost faint with embarrassment and deep mortification. Because not only had the tour group finally tracked her down, but, from the look of astonishment on some faces and the wide grins on others, it was obvious that they had been interested observers of all that had

      just taken place!

      Many hours after, as she lay In the comforting darkness of her own bedroom at Lonsdale House, Angelica could still feel herself going hot and cold with shame at the recollection of the humiliating scene. At the time, she simply hadn’t been able to cope with the acutely distressing episode, firmly closing her eyes for some moments and desperately trying to think what she could possibly say or do next. The realisation that she had no option but to continue with the tour had been almost more than she could bear. And yet, when she’d finally forced herself to open her eyes, she’d discovered that the group—possibly to save her any further embarrassment and chagrin—had melted away. And so, too, had the tall stranger.

      In fact, although she’d somehow managed to reassemble her group of walkers, giving no one the chance of discussing what they’d seen as she led them swiftly through the remainder of the tour, she luckily hadn’t set eyes on the awful man again. It was almost as though he’d vanished into thin air. He’d certainly left the church before she did. And although Angelica had thrown cautious glances up and down the street, before turning right to cross the piazza towards the church of St Andrew Undershaft and on down Leadenhall Street, he’d been nowhere to be seen.

      It would have been a comfort if she could have dismissed the scene from her mind, as if it had all been a bad dream or nightmare. Unfortunately, it was impossible to pretend that it had been a figment of her overheated imagination. Especially when she could all too easily recall the effect of his kiss on her emotions, the tide of sick excitement flooding through her body as she once more relived the feel of the hard, firm lips and body pressed so closely to her own.

      With a groan, she turned over to bury her face in the pillow. She must… she simply must try and forget the whole hideous incident. It was stupid to be reacting in such a childish way to a confrontation which, if she was to be truly honest, had been partly her own fault. If she hadn’t so spectacularly lost her temper, the shameful episode would never have happened. Her only sensible course of action, therefore, must now be to try and dismiss the whole affair from her mind.

      After all, she knew nothing about the man or where he came from—not even his name. Fortunately, there was no possibility of his knowing anything about her either. Since she’d never guided a walking tour of the City before—and she certainly wouldn’t ever attempt to do so again!—the odds on their ever meeting in the future must be about a million to one. It was a comforting thought that brought a measure of peace to her troubled mind, and one which enabled

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