Cinderella's Desert Baby Bombshell by Lynne Graham, Louise Fuller

CHAPTER TEN

THENEXTMORNING they woke late. After days of bright sunshine the weather had turned and it was raining again. Not the deluge of last week, but enough for them to retreat to the library after a long, leisurely breakfast.

Now they were sprawled against each other on the rug in front of the fire. Frankie’s head was in his lap, his hand was in her hair, and they were watching the flames as they curled sinuously over the logs.

Correction: Frankie was watching the flames.

He was watching her.

A couple of days ago at the party he’d thought she could never look any more beautiful, but he’d been wrong. Today, wearing jeans and some old jumper of his, with no make-up and her hair curling loosely over her shoulders, there was a kind of radiance about her that had nothing to do with the symmetry of her features or the luminous clarity of her skin.

It was about who she was as a person. And Frankie was a beautiful person.

His ribs tightened as he remembered the hours running up to the party.

To say that he’d been dreading it was an understatement. Being surrounded by his family was just so difficult, so painful. It stirred so many beautiful, precious memories, and it hurt to remember all that he had lost.

At three-line whip events—the ones he couldn’t legitimately avoid—he usually just watched from the sidelines and left as early as possible. But Frankie had drawn him in, made him a part of every conversation, so that instead of brooding on the past, thinking of what he’d lost, he had found himself talking—not expansively, maybe, but talking just the same—and it had been fun.

She had made it fun.

She was so full of energy and curiosity about life, about people. He loved that about her.

To an outsider, his family might appear insular and cliquey and a little bit clueless about how the rest of the world lived. And they all knew each other. It would be daunting for anyone to be parachuted into such an environment, and he knew how nervous she had been.

But not one person there would have guessed. She had talked to everyone, laughed at Arthur’s terrible jokes, and listened patiently while Davey explained the intricacies of his new biomass boiler.

She drew people out of themselves—and drew them together. Not in some stage-managed, artificial way, but naturally.

No wonder everyone had loved her.

And she had loved them.

His heart felt suddenly heavy inside his chest as he remembered the dazzle of happiness and excitement in her blue eyes. She had loved being a part of a family again, and he had loved being able to gift her that.

He felt his shoulders tense. That, though, was all he could give her.

What stopped him going further—what made it impossible for him even to indulge in thinking about going further—was Frankie herself.

She needed more than he could give. No, it was more than that. She needed more than he’d shown her he could give.

Talking to her last night in the bath, he’d made it sound as if hurting her was a risk. But ‘risk’ implied that there was another option where he didn’t end up hurting her, and that wasn’t true.

Memories of his short, unhappy marriage stirred and shivered inside his head.

Had he felt this way with Harriet?

Definitely not. He’d been too young, too desperate.

This time, though, he had no excuse to ruin a young woman’s life.

And Frankie deserved better. After everything she’d already been through, she needed someone who could complete her life, not cause it to unravel.

His chest tightened.

And yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself from wanting to rearrange the world so that it would offer up a space where he and Frankie could be together. Although at the same time he needed it not to involve any kind of contract or commitment that could be broken.

In other words, he wanted something that didn’t exist. Only he didn’t have the first idea how to explain any of that to Frankie—which was why he’d ended up telling her about Harriet.

He’d never had to do that before. In the past, with other women, he’d found it easy to stick to his rules without needing to justify or explain himself. But right from the start Frankie had been different. Somehow she had sneaked under the tripwire, and before he had known what was happening she’d upended everything that had previously seemed so certain and inviolable.

Yesterday, she’d left him with no option. He’d had to tell her about his marriage to prove to her once and for all that it didn’t matter what worked for other people. It hadn’t worked for him.

‘What is it?’

Frankie was looking up at him. She felt soft and warm against him, but it was the questioning look in her blue eyes that made his fingers still against her hair.

‘Nothing.’ He forced a smile as her gaze travelled over his face.

He had to stop this pointless back and forth. It was like trying to move forward in a whiteout.

But probably he was only feeling this way because he’d churned up the past, muddying the waters of the present.

‘I was just thinking about maybe going for a dip.’

‘You mean, in the sea?’

She wriggled upright, her eyes bright with the adventure of it. Leaning forward, she looped her hands around his neck so that he could feel the tips of her small pointed breasts against his chest.

‘But won’t it be freezing?’

‘It’ll be bracing.’ He smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not expecting you to come with me.’

She frowned. ‘But I want to. Unless you’re planning on swimming around the island or to Denmark?’

It hadn’t occurred to him that she would want to join him. He thought she’d opt to stay by the fire. But now, gazing down at her eager face, it seemed blindingly obvious she would never do that.

He shook his head. ‘I wasn’t planning on being in for more than a couple of minutes,’ he lied.

He’d actually been planning on swimming up to the rocks. But he was used to swimming in chilly seas. Frankie wasn’t. And without a wetsuit it would be just too dangerous for her to do anything more than take a quick dip.

‘Did you bring a costume with you?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘I did.’ Her mouth twitched. ‘Why? Are you saying I don’t need one?’

Their eyes met and he felt tiny curls of heat break like waves over his skin as he imagined Frankie coming naked out of the sea like Botticelli’s Venus.

Feeling his body harden, he shook his head again. ‘No, I’m not,’ he said firmly, tipping her gently off his lap.

Another second of this and he would be in danger of losing both the power of speech and any desire to move. What he needed right now was to clear his head—and that wasn’t going to happen when the soft press of Frankie’s body was playing havoc with all his senses, including his common sense.

‘Come on.’ He held out his hand. ‘Let’s go and get changed—before I change my mind or you change it for me.’

The sea wasglorious. Just how he liked it. The water was drawing up lazily and then hurling itself against the stretch of golden sand like a steeplechaser clearing the final fence.

It was cold—bracingly so—but not enough to stop Frankie from joining him with a shriek as the surging waves sloshed against her body.

They spent a few minutes plunging through the water and then, hand in hand, made their way back to the beach. Grabbing towels, they ran, shivering, up to the Hall.

‘Not too hot to start,’ Arlo warned her as she unwrapped her body from its crimson swimsuit and stepped into the shower.

As she tilted her head back he joined her, gasping as the water hit his skin. Leaning forward, he let the warm stream soak his hair before smoothing it back against his skull.

Once they were done, and had stepped onto the tiled floor, he wrapped one of the huge plush towels around her and another round his waist, then pulled her closer, fitting her body snugly against his.

‘Are you warm enough?’ he asked.

Tipping her head back, she nodded. ‘I should probably dry my hair...’

‘Let me.’

He grabbed another towel and led her into the bedroom. The fire had been lit earlier, but it had died down, so he tossed another log into the gleaming orange core.

Turning, he felt his body harden. Frankie was sitting on the end of the bed, gazing up at him, her hair curling damply over her shoulders. She had let the towel fall away from her body, exposing the slim curves of her breasts, and he watched, mesmerised, as a droplet of water trickled all the way to the tip of her right nipple.

When she looked up at him, he reached down and began rubbing her soaked hair.

‘That was fun.’ She smiled. ‘I thought the sea would actually be colder.’

‘You’re lucky. It’s usually coldest in April.’

Their eyes met, and there were two, maybe three beats of silence. Then she reached up and pressed her hand against the front of his towel.

‘That’s not the only reason I’m lucky,’ she said softly.

Abruptly, his body redirected the flow of his blood with such force that he had to put his hand against her shoulder to steady himself. His mouth dried and he was suddenly conscious of the hammering of his heart as she peeled the towel away from his body and let it slip onto the rug.

There was another beat of silence and then she wrapped one hand around his hard length, cradling him underneath with the other. Without releasing her grip, she pushed him back onto the bed, slipping between his legs as he shifted backwards. He breathed in sharply as she began stroking the taut, silken skin, moving his hand to grip her hair as she flicked her tongue over the blunted head of his erection.

Her hands found his thighs, her fingers splaying against the muscle, and he groaned with helpless pleasure as she took him deeper into her mouth, then deeper still, so that he was powerless to move.

Only he wanted to taste her too. To give her pleasure. Not out of obligation, or a need to prove his virility, but because her pleasure was essential to his enjoyment.

Tugging on her shoulders, he pushed her gently backwards and sat up, his mouth finding hers. He’d lost count of how many times they had kissed before, but as he felt her hands touch his face his heart began to race.

Her fingers were so light, so gentle. So loving.

Gritting his teeth, he fought against the sudden tenderness and, tearing his mouth away, pulled at her hips, kissing her stomach as he turned her body so that she was above his face.

His head was swimming. Breathing in her scent, he parted her damp flesh, dipping inside her, seeking the tight bud of her clitoris. Teasing her with his tongue, he felt her quiver, and she arched against his mouth, moaning.

‘No, no—’

He felt her jerk backwards.

‘I need you inside me.’

The hoarseness of her voice made him move more than the words she’d said.

Lifting her gently, he tried to pull her round to face him, only his leg got in the way. It would have been awkward if it had happened the first time, but they had nothing to prove now, he realised, and when she started to laugh it was the most natural thing in the world to bury his face in her hair and laugh too.

She sat up. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to kill the mood.’

‘You haven’t.’

She was straddling him, with his erection pressing against the slick heat between her thighs, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling such an ache of longing. It went beyond want. This was need. A vast, untapped seam of need that was infinitely more powerful than desire.

His stomach tightened and, reaching up, he cupped her breasts, his thumbs grazing the nipples. ‘I don’t think anything could do that,’ he said slowly. ‘I want you all the time, Frankie.’

His hunger was like a burn, or an itch beneath the skin that no amount of scratching could satisfy. Her touch did something to him...made him want more and more.

‘I want you too. I want you so much.’ She sucked in a breath, her voice suddenly scratchy with emotion. ‘I want—’

‘Shh, Frankie, shh...’ He placed his finger against her lips. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ he said soothingly.

But, her eyes were so blue, so clear—too clear. He felt as if he could see into her soul, feel what she was feeling vibrating in his chest.

Only the fact that he was feeling anything other than desire was wrong. He didn’t do feelings. That was why he couldn’t offer her a real relationship—why this could only ever be about sex.

Heart hammering, unable to face the emotion in her eyes, he raised himself onto his elbows and kissed her desperately, passionately, fiercely, needing to wipe out the emotion churning inside him.

Pulse throbbing, he cupped her buttocks, taking her weight in his hands as she lowered herself onto him.

He gripped her hips and began to move slowly, wanting to take his time, to give her pleasure that would eclipse any he’d ever given her before.

His hands found her nipples and he tugged them gently, squeezing the taut tips, feeling a hot rush of satisfaction as a sound that quivered with pure sexual need broke from her lips.

Dropping his hands to her belly, he stroked the smooth skin and then, as she started to rock against him, slid his fingers between her thighs.

Her hands caught his wrists and, looking up at her face, he felt his body tighten so swiftly and strongly that he was afraid he would come there and then.

His body shuddered. Yes. This was what he wanted: heat and frenzy and release.

Blood roaring in his ears, he reached up and kissed her again, his fingers tightening in her hair as he felt his muscles start to tense, his own wave of pleasure building inside him, rising up, dark and unstoppable.

He felt her body lock around his as she cried out against his mouth, and then the wave hit him with full force, curling over him and pounding through him as he thrust into her.

Heart raging, he wrapped his arms around her body and buried his face in her hair. ‘Frankie—’

Breathing out, he stroked a tangle of curls away from her face. His body was aching, almost hurting from the intensity of his orgasm, but then his eyes met hers, and the depth of emotion he saw there blotted out that pain with another kind of pain that made him look away.

His ribs felt too tight.

He didn’t want to see that softness for him there. That was a need he couldn’t meet. He’d tried once before, and failed, and nothing had changed.

Hehadn’t changed.

He might not be young and naive anymore, but he was still that same man. Still intense and unapproachable, uncommunicative and uncompromising. A man defined by his limits.

He could never be full of fire and drama like his father, or vivacious and beautiful like his mother and Johnny.

Out on the huge expanses of polar ice he was a hero. Here in the real world he felt awkward and inelegant. The idea of someone like him with a woman like Frankie was not just stupid, it was absurd. He might as well try and capture a flame in his hand.

Only last night, for the first time in his entire life, he had felt as if he was standing in the flames with Frankie.

He knew that it had never been like this with any other woman. Never been so easy, so intimate. So personal. But then before it had never mattered who he was with. This time it was all about Frankie.

‘Hey,’ he said softly, seeing her faraway expression. ‘Where have you gone?’

She smiled. ‘No, I’m here. I was just thinking...’

He was torn, caught between the need to know more and the fear of what he might hear.

‘About what?’

‘I was just thinking how strange time is when I’m with you. Sometimes it seems to stretch on for ever, and then other times it feels like everything has sped up.’ She bit into her lip. ‘Does that sound stupid?’

Staring at her steadily, he shook his head. ‘When I’m with you everything feels so much sharper. Colours, sounds...’

There was a glow to her now, like the halo of light around the sun, and it would be so easy in the post-coital haze of intimacy and tenderness to step into that light.

He tilted her face, and the fragility of her neck and the delicate bones of her shoulders felt like a warning—a reminder of how easy it would be to hurt her by promising something he couldn’t give.

So there would be no Perhaps if... or Maybe some day...

But he could be honest. He wanted to be honest.

His thumb stroked the upper bow of her mouth as he looked into her eyes. ‘It’s not been like that with other people. It’s never been like this for me before.’

She breathed out shakily. ‘Me neither.’

‘But it works, doesn’t it?’

Her expression was hazy, and then she nodded, and he knew that she was everything he wanted in the world right now.

And then he was pulling her closer, telling himself that when the time came he would let her go without a backward glance.

It was the only way.

They were eating lunchin the kitchen. Frankie was telling Constance about her dip in the sea, and he was half listening, half watching the play of emotions over her face, when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Since that day on the beach, when Frankie had told him about the accident, he’d left it on silent, and he was all ready to ignore it until he saw the name on the screen.

Johnny.

‘I’m just going to get this,’ he said and, pushing his chair back from the table, stood up and walked out into the hallway.

‘Arlo.’

At the sound of Johnny’s voice he felt a rush of relief fill his chest. Like most siblings, he knew the tell-tale signs of distress in his brother, but there was no breathless note of panic.

‘Hey, little brother. Nice of you to get in touch.’

Johnny groaned. ‘I know... I know. I’m useless. I really was going to call—’

The line was so clear that if he closed his eyes it would be as if Johnny was standing beside him, and he felt a sharp stab of longing to reach out and hug his brother.

‘It’s just been completely mad. Honestly, Hollywood people are crazy.’

Suddenly Johnny’s voice sounded muffled, and Arlo could almost picture him, head bent over his phone conspiratorially.

‘They never seem to sleep. It’s like there’s no difference between day and night. They just keep on going.’ He laughed. ‘You’d fit right in.’

Arlo felt his heart contract with love. Hollywood was the last place on earth he’d fit in, but his brother’s partisan adoration knew no limits.

‘On that basis, so would about twelve million penguins.’

Johnny laughed again. ‘True.’ There was a pause, then, ‘I’m really sorry I haven’t called.’

‘It’s okay. I know you’re busy—’

‘So are you. And that’s one of the reasons I wanted to call. To thank you for letting Frankie stay at the Hall.’

Arlo felt his chest tighten. ‘You don’t have to thank me, Johnny, it’s your home too.’

‘I know. But I also know how busy you are, and you weren’t expecting her...’ He paused again, then, ‘So has it been okay?’

‘Of course.’ It was suddenly hard to speak. To find words that could describe how ‘okay’ it had been. ‘It was Davey and Serena’s anniversary party, so we went over to Stanhope, and she’s helped me with some of my notes. Oh, and she’s trounced me at billiards.’

He heard his brother chuckle. ‘Yeah, she’s pretty good, isn’t she?’ There was another pause. Then, ‘I’m glad she’s had some fun. That’s actually the other reason I’m calling.’

Arlo frowned. ‘What is?’

‘I wanted to do something to make up for letting her down, so I’ve bought her a ticket to LA.’

His head felt as if it was not connected to his body. ‘A ticket?’ he asked slowly.

‘Yeah, for Saturday. It’s a surprise. I thought she could do with a few days in the sun and I think she’ll adore LA. It’s got everything she loves. Sandy beaches, shopping malls. And celebrities! I mean, Frankie was made for this place.’

No, she wasn’t, he thought, his forehead creasing into a frown. Frankie was made for family brunches and swimming in the sea.

Arlo stared across the beautiful empty hallway, listening to his brother’s voice, feeling a dark, heavy cloud swelling inside his chest.

What was it he’d said earlier to Frankie about their ‘arrangement’?

It works, doesn’t it?

He felt his whole body tense with fury and disgust. What the hell had he been thinking? Did he really think that was all she deserved? Some open-ended affair with a man who could essentially offer nothing more than sex and his own shortcomings?

She needed sunshine and cocktails and people her own age—like Johnny.

He cleared his throat, making his voice level. ‘It sounds like you want her to stay for more than a few days.’

‘Yeah, I do.’ Johnny hesitated. ‘She could really make a go of it out here, Arlo. She’s got something about her... I think everyone is going to love her.’

Of course they would, Arlo thought, his fingers tightening around the phone.

The anonymous ache in his chest was no longer nameless. Only it had taken the thought of losing her for him to understand what it was. To understand that it was love.

His heart felt as if it would burst.

He loved her.

And he knew that Frankie loved him. She was too scared to say it out loud, but earlier, upstairs in the bedroom, he had felt it in every touch and kiss.

So what was he waiting for?

Hang up the phone. Go and tell her.

He felt euphoric, adrift with love. The need to find her and declare his feelings rose up inside him and he half turned, his body filling with lightness.

And then he stopped.

He couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t do that to Frankie—not if he loved her.

Suddenly he was terrified, almost breathless with the fear that he would give in. Terrified of what would happen if he did.

Because he knew what would happen.

He knew Frankie.

She would leap wholeheartedly, loving him, trusting him to catch her...

But her trust would be misplaced. He couldn’t trust himself not to fail, and if he failed he would hurt her more than he was already going to have to hurt her.And he was going to hurt her. It was the only way, even though the thought of doing so tore his heart in two.

‘Would you likeanother cup of coffee?’

Glancing up at Constance, Frankie shook her head. ‘I’m fine. But could you leave the pot?’

Arlo would want one. When he returned. She glanced over at the doorway, wondering who had called him. Not work. He would have ignored it.

He had ignored it—for her.

Her heart squeezed. He had put his life on hold for her and showed her how to live again. He had held her and comforted her and filled her with his strength—metaphorically and literally.

Look at this morning. Arlo had still been inside her, his arms anchoring her to his body, and her love for him had been so complete, so devastating, that the room had started to spin and she hadn’t been able to see him clearly.

Not that it mattered. He was so familiar to her now that even if she closed her eyes she could see every minute detail of his appearance.

Her fingers trembled against the handle of her coffee cup. He was so beautiful, and the lines on his face and the scars all over his body didn’t diminish that beauty—they just made his beauty unique. More than unique. It was essential. He was essential to her now. She needed him more than she needed her next breath. He was everything. Her always and her for ever.

Only she couldn’t tell Arlo that.

That wasn’t what he’d signed up for and no alteration in her feelings could change that. She was already out of her depth, but at least there was still a way back to shore. She couldn’t allow herself to get in any deeper. She couldn’t let herself care even more for Arlo than she did. Not when she knew what it felt like to lose someone you loved. She couldn’t go through that again.

Her pulse skipped. And she didn’t need to. He had acknowledged that what they shared was different...special.

‘It’s never been like this for me before.’

Those had been his exact words, and right now that was enough.

‘Anyway, I’ll talk to you soon.’

She glanced up. It was Arlo. He was still on the phone, and as she looked at him, he pointed at it.

‘Yes, I’ll hand you over to her now.’ He held out his phone. ‘It’s Johnny. He wants to talk to you.’

‘Johnny—oh, my goodness! How’s it going? I can’t believe you’re actually going to be in a film!’ she gushed.

Johnny laughed. ‘Don’t blink or you’ll miss me. I think one of the palm trees is on screen longer than I am.’

It was strange, hearing his laugh. A week ago it would have left her feeling weak. Now, though, she felt nothing except a kind of sisterly affection.

‘Are there really palm trees?’ she asked quickly.

She didn’t care if there were or not, but she could feel Arlo’s eyes on her face and felt suddenly self-conscious.

‘Loads. Would you like to see them?’

‘Of course.’ She was momentarily distracted as, smiling stiffly, Arlo got up and walked over to the window.

‘You would? Because that’s why I’m calling. I’ve bought you a ticket to LA. You’ll fly out on Saturday.’

She blinked. But Arlo wasn’t in LA.

‘Frankie! Are you still there? Did you hear what I said?’

‘Yes, I did. That’s amazing.’ She forced a note of excitement into her voice. ‘But you shouldn’t have—’

‘Yes, I should,’ he said firmly. ‘And Arlo thinks so too.’

‘He does?’ Her heart began hammering inside her chest.

‘Yeah, he thinks you need a proper holiday. And besides, he’s going to be in Svalbard at the end of the month.’

Her stomach felt as if it was filled with ice. She felt stunned, stupid, small.

Turning her head, she stared across the room to where Arlo was gazing at the sea. There was tension in his body and she knew he was seeing a different blue sea—one dotted with sharp-toothed icebergs.

‘It’s addictive,’he’d said.

She’d thought he’d been talking figuratively. But how could she compete with such beauty and majesty?

‘Look, I know it’s short notice, Frankie, but I also know I let you down.’

Johnny’s voice broke into her thoughts and she gazed down into her cooling cup of coffee. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said quietly.

‘It does to me. So please let me make it up to you. Come to LA.’

She sucked in a steadying breath. ‘I’d love to.’

As she hung up Arlo turned to face her, and the cool distance in his eyes left her in no doubt as to how he was really feeling.

In his head, he was already there on the ice. Maybe he’d never left. No wonder he couldn’t promise anything in the way of commitment.

‘So you’re off to LA.’

It was a statement, not a question, but she still nodded.

‘It’s for the best, Frankie.’

‘For whom?’ She stood up abruptly and walked towards him.

‘For you, of course. You’re twenty-one. You have your whole life ahead of you, and that life isn’t going to start here—’

With me.

He didn’t say those words, but they both heard them. But he hadn’t heard what she had to say. What she needed him to hear...to know.

She was done with hiding the truth. It hadn’t stopped her losing everyone she loved and needed before, but it might stop her losing the man she loved and needed now.

She moved to his side. ‘But what if I told you I loved you? Would that change anything?’

Only even before he shook his head, she knew that it wouldn’t. That he already knew, and it didn’t matter.

And knowing that he knew, and that it hadn’t changed anything, gave her the strength to pull back and not leap unthinkingly with her eyes wide open.

It was over.

She couldn’t do what she suspected Harriet had done—just hope that this difficult, conflicted man would change over time, for her. Maybe she might have done before the accident, but not now. Not knowing what she did about the agony of loss.

It was just so hard to let it go—to let him go.

‘I don’t want your love. And I don’t want to hurt you. I want to be honest with you.’ He glanced away from her. ‘This...what we had...was amazing. You’re amazing.’

Had. There had been no moment of decision but already he was talking in the past tense, as if the choice had been made.

She stared at him in silence. ‘Just not amazing enough,’ she said slowly. She felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach, and her fingers curved protectively against the ache.

‘No, that’s not true.’ His eyes narrowed on her face. ‘This isn’t about you.’

She stared at him, her heart breaking. ‘You’re right. It is about us. And I think you’re not giving us a chance.’

Say something, she willed him. Ask me not to go to LA.

But a distance had opened between them now that seemed impossible to bridge and he said nothing.

Disbelief thudded inside her head.

After everything that had happened, surely it couldn’t end like this?

As the silence lengthened, grew weighty, she could bear it no more. ‘I don’t think there’s any point in me staying, so I’m going to go upstairs and pack. Can you call me a cab?’

‘I’ll take you to the station.’ His voice was hard and flat.

Turning, she walked back across the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. ‘You know, you saved me, Arlo—not just on the causeway, but here.’ She touched her head. ‘And here.’ She touched her heart. ‘You made me trust myself and I’ll always be grateful.’

Her heart was aching, as if it had been torn in two, but she was going to leave nothing unsaid.

‘I know that if anyone can save the world it’s you. But I just hope that one day you meet someone who can rescue you.’ She took a breath, pushing back against the pain of imagining that scenario. ‘Someone who can make you trust in love again...make you trust yourself. Someone who will make you see that love is a risk worth taking and that a life without risks that aren’t to do with cold and ice and danger is no life at all.’

There was nothing more to say. The weight of misery pressing against her heart was unbearable and, turning, she walked swiftly out of the room.