Title: Planning a Revenge Chapter 4
Author: Ashley
E-mail: Nuriko56@hotmail.com
Standard Disclaimer Apply


Serena grimaced to herself as she ran up the stairs to the flat, where she
could hear her telephone ringing with offensive perseverance. The day had 
been
the epitome of every worst Monday rolled into one, with two clients pulling
out of sales at the last moment, irate customers taking out their 
frustration
oh her, both Rita and Andrew down with virulent summer flu that threatened 
to
keep them away from the office all week, and Melvin depressed and morose 
after
being dumped by his latest girlfriend. And then, as the icing on the cake, 
she
had got caught in a sudden September cloudburst on the way home and had
squelched the last few hundred yards to the house soaked through to the 
skin.
	She was cold, wet, exhausted and hungry, she told herself as she opened
the front door and kicked off her shoes before diving for the phone, and she
didn't want to talk to anyone. A long, hot bath with a glass of sherry at 
the
side of her before a quick convenience meal in front of the TV, courtesy of
the microwave, was all she asked of life right at this moment.
	"Hello?" she couldn't keep the irritation out of her voice as she spoke
into the receiver.
	"Hello, Serena." There was only one deep, gravelly voice in the world
which could speak her name like that, and she sat down very suddenly in a
dripping heap on the carpet.
	Darien Chiba? Now why was he phoning her? He had phoned twice in the
week following their dinner date. Each time she had refused his invitation 
to
the theatre and a meal, and she hadn't heard from him in the last three 
weeks.
The sale had gone through successfully, and with no hiccups, and as far as 
she
knew he had moved into Greenacres a few days ago--at which point she had
determined she would make an appointment to see him as soon as possible to
tell him exactly what she thought of him. But then Rita and Andrew had
succumbed to the dreaded bug and her life, hectic and chaotic at the best of
times, had seemed to go mad.
	"This is Darien Chiba." The dark voice was silky-soft. "I trust I
haven't caught you at an inconvenient moment?"
	Well, she didn't have to be polite or tactful any more. "Actually, you
have." She paused before saying tightly, "I've just got in from work, as it
happens."
	"You work too hard."
	It wasn't meant as a compliment, and she frowned at the telephone before
saying stiffly, "I disagree."
	"Naturally." His voice was even and cool, and irritated her more than
words could say. "But it is almost nine o'clock, and I dare say you were in
the office before nine this morning? Twelve-hour working days were abolished
years ago, along with sending small boys up chimneys and slave labour, or 
did
no one bother to tell you?"
	"Rita and Andrew are ill; I'm holding the fort," she snapped brusquely.
	"And when they aren't ill?" he asked smoothly.
	"Look…" She wasn't going to win this one if she spoke the truth, so it
was better to change the subject now. "What is it you've phoned about? Is
anything wrong?"
	"Does there have to be something wrong for me to phone you, Serena?" he
asked softly, and then, "I'm ring with an invitation. I'm holding a little
house-warming party at the weekend, and I would like you to come. You did 
find
the house for me, after all."
	"It's my job," she said quickly.
	"I'd still like to say thank you."
	What should she do? Serena bit back the initial response that sprang to
her lips and took a long deep breath as she tried to consider her next 
words.
She still fully intended to have her say over Raye, so perhaps this
opportunity was better than making a formal appointment? She'd stirred his
interest--this third call asking to see her proved that--and she hadn't
changed her mind about steering clear of this man. He was…dangerous. So, all
things being equal, might this be just the time to have everything brought 
out
into the open and have done with it?
	"You don't really need to say thank you, but it's very kind of you to
invite me, and, yes, I'd love to come." She heard herself say the words with 
a
sudden feeling of impending doom.
	"Good." Just one little word--so why did his voice make her shiver as it
caught at the hitherto unawakened sensual side of her psyche? "Saturday
evening, seven o'clock. I'll send a car for you.
	"There's no need--"
	He cut her off hasty reply as he repeated steadily, "My chauffeur will
be outside your flat at seven, Serena," before he replaced the receiver and
the phone went dead.
	She didn't want his car to come for her--especially in view of what she
intended to say and the inevitable consequences. Serena glared at the 
innocent
plastic, her brow furrowed. But that was typical of Darien Chiba, wasn't it?
Bulldozing his way through people lives, Mr. Macho Man…
	She wriggled irritably, and then, as the sogginess of her clothes and
her still dripping hair made itself felt, sighed loudly. Let him have his 
way.
After Saturday night she wasn't going to see him again, so it didn't much
matter one way or the other.
	Strangely, the thought dampened her still further, and she jumped
briskly to her feet after one more moment of brooding contemplation, saying
out loud, "Saturday night and then that will be the end of all this," as
though someone had argued the point with her. And even when she was 
ensconced
in the steaming bubbles a few minutes later, with a large glass of sherry in
one hand and her head resting on her bath cushion, she found she was still
altercating with the inner voice that had challenged the sincerity of her
wanting Darien Chiba out of her orbit for good.

Serena slept in late on Saturday morning, and woke to a mild, balmy 
September
day that was completely at odds with the fury of the wind and stormy rain of
the previous days. She stretched slowly in the warm of her snug little bed,
curling her toes and luxuriating in her first Saturday away from the office
for months.
	Rita and Andrew had struggled back to their little empire on Thursday
morning, both looking like death but equally determined that the business
would fall apart if they were away one more day. In spite of their fragile
condition, they had insisted Serena take a long overdue Saturday off once 
they
heard Darien's invitation.
	"I can't believe the amount of work you've got through this week," Rita
had exclaimed gratefully when she had viewed her and Andrew's virtually 
empty
desktops. "You must have camped out here."
	"Almost." Serena had grinned wryly.
	"Then you pamper yourself on Saturday," Rita had continued, in rare
motherly mode. "Lie in, give yourself a beauty treatment, veg out…"
	Veg out. Serena looked up at the ceiling as she reflected ruefully that
it would take a stronger will than hers to relax enough to "veg out", 
knowing
that in a few hours it was to cross swords with Darien Chiba. Now she was
awake she found her mind was buzzing. Nevertheless, she forced herself to 
lied
in bed for another thirty minutes before realizing the ridiculousness of her
actions. Once up, she pulled on an old jumper and jeans and cleaned the flat
from top to bottom. It took three hours, but at the end of that time every
surface and nook and cranny was bright and sparkling, and a good deal of
nervous energy had been burnt up in the process.
	Disciplining her mind and body was something she had learnt in the
aftermath of the assault. It had been a straight choice between hard 
physical
labor--which in those days had meant a punishing regime of jogging and 
squash
in between lectures and working at her books--or a visit to the doctor for
drugs to help her sleep and eat and keep a tentative hold on her sanity. She
had chosen her exercise. And it had worked…in a way. Enough to keep her
reasonably level-headed most of the time anyway, she thought now as she
surveyed the gleaming flat. And--in spite of it being the most over-worked
cliché ever--time was a great healer.
	For every Allan Ginga and Darien Chiba there were a hundred kind,
decent, generous folk. She switched on the coffee machine and watched it as 
it
began to gurgle and splutter, but the feeling that she had been less than
generous in linking the two men together nagged at her conscience, and she
clicked on the radio to take her mind off her thoughts as she made herself a
quick lunch of salad and cold meat.
	By half past six that evening she was ready and waiting for Darien's
chauffeur, and as nervous as a kitten. But she looked good, she told herself
reassuringly as she glanced in the tall, narrow mirror in her small bedroom
one last time, before walking through to the sitting room.
	Her mid-calf length skirt and short-sleeved top in soft, voluptuous
white cashmere were just right for a cool September evening, and although 
not
new, or a designer exclusive, they were both chic and elegant. She wore the
minimum of jewelry--simple pearl studs in her ears and a thin gold bracelet
which had been her mother's in the shape of tiny daisies, on her left 
wrist--
and she wore her hair up in a thick loose knot on top of her head, with an 
odd
curl here and there about her face and neck to soften the look. Her eyes,
aided and abetted by the dusky grey eyeshadow and black mascara, looked
enormous, her skin was flawless and her full, pouting mouth was shown off to
perfection by the flaming red lipstick she had bought the day before.
	She fully intended to exit from Darien Chiba's life with a bang.
	That resolve stayed with her all the way to Darien's house as she sat in
splendid isolation in the back of the chauffeur-driven Mercedes, and, 
although
faltering slightly at the sight of the crowd prestige cars in the drive of
Greenacres, only finally evaporated on her entrance into the house.
	The place was swarming, quite literally swarming, with the beautiful
people--gold and diamonds flashing on every wrist and at every throat of the
females present, and the men debonair, cool and distinguished in their
exquisitely cut dinner jackets and bow ties. It was like a scene from an
elaborate Hollywood movie, and Serena had never felt so out of place 
anywhere
in her life.
"Serena." She had no time to reflect further, as the deep, dark voice at her
elbow told her Darien must have been looking for her.
"Hello." She swung round with a bright smile on her face and then froze at 
the
sight of him. He looked gorgeous, far, far too gorgeous, and suddenly she 
was
terrifyingly vulnerable. She hasn't expected the animal panic and exposed
defencelessness which ripped through her as the beautiful blue eyes smiled
down at her, but they were there, and they showed on her face. As his smile
began to die, she forced herself to say something, anything, to defuse what
had become an unbearably charged moment. "The…the house looks wonderful. But
didn't you say a little party?" she asked, as lightly as she could manage.
"There must be over a hundred people here."
"Hundred and fifty," he admitted quietly, taking her arm as he continued,
"I'll introduce you to a few folk."
Serena could never remember much about the next hour or so as she and Darien
moved from one group to another; all she was conscious of was the feel of 
his
warm hand in the small of her back as he guided her about the vast house, 
and
the way he kept her at his side.
How could you be so helplessly attracted to someone you loathed? She asked
herself over and over again, as she smiled and nodded and said all the right
things at the right time. It was so stupid. She didn't want to fancy him, 
and
he wasn't all the sort of man she had been attracted to in the past.
	Her preference had always veered towards males with boyish good looks,
rather then he-man types, and the faintly Nordic, fair-haired male had
appealed. Darien Chiba was neither boyish nor fair-haired, and the only 
thing
Nordic about him was his fierce aggressive nature which was pure Viking.
	At eight-thirty, one of the uniformed caterers informed the guests a hot
and cold buffet was being served in the dining room. As people began to wind
their way toward that room Darien steered her into a quiet corner and bent
down to whisper in her ear, "If you could only relax a little, you might 
find
you actually begin to enjoy this evening, Serena."
	"What?" she blinked up at him, sure she must have misheard his words in
the general furore towards the dining room.
	His mouth twisted, and the black brows rose over mocking blue eyes as he
smiled down at her. "You're like a cat on a hot tin roof," he said smoothly,
"and you know it."
	"I am not." But dark colour had flared over her cheekbones and they both
knew she was lying.
	"Serena, you have one hundred and fifty chaperones; what more do you
want?" he asked evenly.
	One thousand and fifty would be no good if Darien Chiba wanted a woman,
she thought helplessly, a little curl of something hot pulsing in her lower
stomach. She was excited, sexually excited, she realized, with a little 
shock
of horror, over Darien Chiba. Oh, this was ridiculous, she was ridiculous, 
and
she was going to tell him all right now. That he had been set up from the
start, that she despised and hated him, and why. And then she would leave, 
go
and find a taxi somewhere, and put the last month or so behind her.
	"I'll tell you what I want, shall I?" she challenged tightly, stepping
back a pace away from his body.
	His eyes had narrowed at the look on her face, and his voice held a
faint note of perplexity as he said, "Why don't you just do that, Serena?"
	And her mouth was already open, the words hovering on her lips, when a
quiet voice at the side of them said, "Darien? You haven't introduced us, 
but
this can only be Serena."
	Looking back on it later, Serena would acknowledge that it was only the
years of training in hiding her thoughts and emotions after the rape that
allowed her to smile down at the young woman in the wheelchair and say in a
perfectly normal voice, "Yes, I'm Serena, but you seem to have the advantage
over me."
	"Amy…Chiba." The slight before the surname was awkward, but as Serena
shook the proffered hand she kept her face bland and smiling.
	"My sister, Amy. Amy, this is Serena, as you so rightly deduced. There,
official introductions over--all right?" Darien was teasing his sister
indulgently, but Serena saw a wealth of love in the dark, hard face as he
looked down at the slight young woman in the wheelchair, and it both amazed
and pained her. And why was Amy in the chair anyway, and using her maiden 
name
again? Serena asked herself bewilderedly. What was going on, and where was 
her
rat of a husband?
	"I'm sorry I'm late coming down, but…" Amy's voice dwindled away, but
Darien seemed to understand her unspoken explanation anyway.
	He patted her hand and said, "You're doing just fine, just fine," before
turning to Serena and adding, "She looks beautiful, doesn't she?"
	Serena nodded, her eyes soft as she smiled at Amy, which had gone brick-
red at her brother's words. "I gather he's the devoted big brother, right?"
she asked lightly, with a little wink at the other girl. "And I bet he 
bashed
anyone who pulled your pigtails when you were kids too."
	"He did." Amy was laughing now. "Frequently. He was always coming home
with a bloody nose or cut lip."
	"Hang on, hang on, you'll have her believing I was some sort of
ruffian," Darien protested with mock sternness, but Serena had noticed how 
his
face had relaxed when Amy had smiled.
	He's concern about her. In fact he's worried to death, Serena thought
with an intuition she hadn't known she had. The knowledge pulled at her
heartstrings in a way she could well have done without. She didn't want 
Darien
Chiba to shoe any normal human softness or gentleness; she couldn't afford 
him
to. She had to keep the picture she had painted of him after his 
ruthlessness
with Raye clear in her mind.
	The three of them talked for a few minutes, Darien and Amy chaffing each
other much as she and Raye might have done, Serena noticed unwillingly, and
then, as a serious young man with earnest brown eyes and short hair came up 
to
talk to Amy, Darien tactfully drew Serena away.
	""That's the man she should have married," he stated with surprising
directness.
	"What?'" Serena stopped stock-still and stared at him open-mouthed. He
looked back at her, totally unabashed.
	"They've been friends since school days, but he left it too late to
declare his feelings," Darien said calmly. "And in the mean time a certain 
Mr.
Chad Mitchell appeared on the scene and swept her off her feet with empty
promises and a glib tongue."
	"Chad…?" Serena prevaricated weakly, finding herself left quite out of
her depth by the sudden turn events had taken.
	"Her husband--soon to be ex-husband," Darien said grimly. "And I won't
offend your ears by telling you the names I have found for him privately. He
latched on to Amy because he saw her as an easy meal ticket, nothing more, 
and
he was unfaithful from the first month of their marriage." He suddenly 
seemed
to realise he had said more than he intended, and waved a hand dismissively 
as
he finished, "But that's history."
	Serena glanced over her shoulder, to where Amy and the young man were in
deep conversation, and then back at Darien as she said, "She's not well?"
	It was a rhetorical question, and he treated as such. "Degenerative bone
disease," he said shortly, his voice expressionless, with the sort of 
control
that hides crucifying pain.
	"Oh, I'm so sorry," she murmured shakily.
	"She'd been under treatment with a doctor in the States for almost two
years now," Darien said quietly. "He wanted to try a new pioneer treatment--
Amy is something of a guinea pig, I guess--but the alternative…" He shrugged
grimly.
	"Anyway, her husband recently conducted such a flagrant affair that even
Amy couldn't ignore it, especially when she returned home a day early from 
the
States and found them in the martial bed." Serena concealed a sigh of 
relief.
For an awful moment she had thought he was talking about Raye and Chad. "So
she'd living with me for the time being. That's why I was in such a rush to
get the house ready," he added quietly. "She has to have a week's treatment 
in
the States every month, and I wanted a stable base here in England for her. 
My
apartment's no good--a typical bachelor pad," he finished wryly. "Here she 
has
the garden and the pool, and swimming is very good for her condition."
	"Right." Serena nodded slowly, her head whirling. She couldn't take all
this in. "And this treatment, is it working?" she asked carefully.
	"We don't know for sure until a full two years from the first treatment
has elapsed and they can do some conclusive tests."
	"And that will be in…?" she pursued gently.
	"The beginning of November," he said shortly, clearly wishing to change
the subject. "Now, let me take you through to get something to eat." He had
switched to urbane, smooth host again, the brief glimpse of the real man
beneath the mask over. "If the ravenous hordes have left anything for us."
	The ravenous hordes--in fact there was enough food to feed a small army,
Serena thought weakly as she surveyed the wonderful spread laid out in the
dining room, along with gallons of champagne to wash it down. When this man
threw a party, he really threw a part.
	Serena noticed Amy and the earnest young man come through to the dining
room some minutes later; he was pushing Darien's sister chair and once he 
had
her established in a protected spot he knelt down and talked to her for a 
few
moment or two, before standing and walking over to the buffet where he began
to fill two plates.
	"He still loves her."
	Serena wasn't aware she had spoken out loud, but she must have done,
because in the next instant Darien said, his voice peculiarly grim, "Greg is
the exception that prove the rules."
	"I'm sorry?" She looked up at him, her eyebrows raised.
	"Greg Harding is the first and foremost an academic," Darien said
quietly, "and an intense individual in every way. But you're right; I do
believe he loves Amy for herself. For one thing he is less interested in 
money
and position than anyone else I know, and secondly, she is the only thing 
I've
ever known him put before his precious books and research."
	"But why "the exception that proves the rule"?" Serena persisted.
	"Because love--romantic love between a man and a woman--is largely a
figment of wishful thinking and people's imaginations," Darien said coolly.
"It simply doesn't exist, except for the very rare exception, and even then,
as in Greg's case, there are other factors involved."
	"You said he didn't care about Amy's money," Serena protested quickly,
her face betraying her shock at his cynicism.
	"I don't mean that." He gestured irritably with his hand before saying,
"If Amy had married Chad, and had a happy and successful marriage with a
family and s secure lifestyle, Greg would have forgotten her long ago. As it
was, with Amy's illness manifesting itself shortly after the wedding, and 
her
all too obvious unhappiness with Chad, she had continued to appeal to the
illogical sentimental side of Greg. He sees himself as a knight in shining
armor, ready to fight all her wrongs and fight for a noble cause."
	"I've never heard of anything so patronizing in my life," Serena said
forcefully, stiffening into a slender rod as she spoke, her eyes flashing.
	"Then you've been around much," he drawled scornfully, his own mouth
thinning at her reaction and his eyes slit of icy in a face that had become
devoid of expression.
	"You're seriously telling that just because Greg has continued to love
her, even though she married someone else and probably broke his heart, you
think he is fooling himself?" Serena challenged in a soft hiss. "I think
that's insulting to both of them."
	Darien's eyes were glacial. "Then don’t think. You obviously aren't very
good at it," he bit out harshly.
	"Because I disagree with you?" Serena couldn't remember when she had
last felt so mad. "He loves her. Can't you just accept that? And people love
other people the world over, foe goodness' sake. You aren't really saying 
that
millions of them are wrong and you alone are right, are you?"
	"I'm saying that they think they love each other," Darien ground out
softly, "that's all." Amy thought she loved Chad, but she didn't have a clue
as to what made him tick. Her love was an illusion, a romantic fantasy 
wishful
thinking had conjured up."
	"No, she fell in love with the wrong man, that's all," Serena shot back
quietly. And to think she had begun to wonder if her first impressions of 
this
man had been wrong! She had never met such an arrogant, heartless,
condescending swine in all her life. "But she obviously did love him, and 
hung
on in there until she was forced to realized that she had to let go. And for
every Amy and Chad, there are a hundred marriages that make a go of it."
	"Rubbish." Darien's eyes narrowed in derisive contempt. "If you are
going to argue a point, at least get your facts straight. One out of three
marriages end in divorce these days. That's a proven statistic."
	Well, she had walked into that one. "I didn't mean a hundred literally,"
Serena admitted quietly, after taking a long, hard, calming breath and 
willing
herself not to give way to childish impulse to stick out her tongue. "I was
speaking metaphorically."
	"Well, don't."
	The impulse changed to a desire to kick him, hard.
	"True love is one of the most dangerous illusions which had been
perpetuated down the aged and right into the twentieth century," Darien
continued coldly. "And the single cause of more heartaches worldwide than 
all
the wars and famines and natural disasters put together. In struggling to 
find
something which doesn't exist, people load themselves and others with more
hang-ups and trouble than the human spirit can take. How on earth can any
rational human being expect to love one person, and one person only, for the
rest of their lives?" he finished scathingly.
	"You mean you couldn't," Serena interjected perceptively.
	"What?"
	She wasn't at all put out by his bark, which attracted veiled curiosity
from those within earshot, and she certainly didn't intend to let his fierce
scowl intimidate her either.
	"You're a misogynist, pure and simple," she said firmly, delighted she
had got under his skin in some small measure.
	"A…?"
	"It means---"
	"I know what it means," he rasped tightly, "and I can assure you I do
not dislike women, Serena, far from it. One day I shall marry, but my wife
will be in no doubt as to why. I shall admire and respect her, and want her 
as
the mother of my children, but as for love!" He glared at her 
contemptuously.
"It will be a legal contract to ensure my children are brought up in a happy
and united home, and until they reached adulthood both my wife and myself 
will
abstain from other partners. Once they are grown I should imagine we would 
go
our separate ways. After twenty-odd years or so we would be sick of the 
sight
of each other, although I hope we would remain friends for life."
	"I've never heard such a cold-blooded proposal in all my life," Serena
gasped softly, truly shocked.
	"No, it's merely honest. And my children, unlike many others, will not
know the devastation of a warring home, and parents who make each other's
lives hell on earth," he said evenly. "Now, finish your champagne and I'll
fetch you another glass."
	"I don't want another glass." Now was the moment to tell him about Raye,
that he had been wrong, criminally wrong about one woman at least, and that
through his actions a life had ended before it had barely formed, with 
another
on hanging in the balance for some hours. But she couldn't. She stared at 
him,
her dark blue eyes enormous in the honey-cream of her face. She just 
couldn't.
It might be letting Raye down and betraying all her own ideals and
convictions, and she might never have another chance like this again, but 
she
couldn't bring herself to say the words.
	Maybe if she couldn't see that wheelchair, and the frail, pathetically
young-looking occupant, if the image of how Darien had looked at his sister,
the love in his eyes, wasn't still stark on the screen of her mind, perhaps
then she might have been able to accuse him. But he loved his sister, and 
his
motives, cruel and ruthless though they had been, had been to protect Amy.
	Not that excused the sort of man he was, Serena added quickly. It
didn't--not at all. This last conversation was proof of the fact that he was
the most cynical individual in the world. But…She sighed, finishing the last
drop of sparkling effervescent wine and holding out her glass in silent
capitulation. She couldn't do it and that was that. It had been a crazy idea
from the start. All that remained now was to get through this evening as 
best
as she could, and then wipe Darien Chiba out of her mind and life.
	There was dancing to the small band in the grounds of the house later,
the mellow, mild September night alive with the scents and smells of a dying
summer. Hundreds of tiny fairy lights had been wound over trees and bushes,
and they twinkled in the velvet darkness, creating their own ethereal
enchantment for the evening as Darien led Serena out of the over-warm 
confines
of the house into the cool night.
	He had remained at her side all evening, leaving only to replenish her
plate and glass, and after that one soul-searing conversation had been
charming. Serena was aware of the many covert, and not so covert glances in
their direction from interested parties--certainly most of the women present
were agog to find out who she was and where she had come from--but with 
Darien
standing at her side most people seemed loath to ask her any direct 
questions.
	"Oh, it's beautiful out here." Serena stood still just outside the big
French doors leading from the drawing room, quite entranced by the picture 
in
front of her.
	"It was the caterer's idea," Darien drawled softly. "As you have no
doubt gathered, I haven't got a romantic bone in y body." The dark eyebrows
were mocking.
	"I've gathered you don't like people to think you have," she answered
smartly. "But methinks you protest too much."
	"Don't tell me--you took psychology at university." He was teasing her.
There was none of the constrained bitterness of their previous conversation,
but her feelings had been sensitized by the emotion of the evening, and
suddenly a remnant of the way she had felt during her university years swept
over her, darkening her eyes as she recalled the pain and despair.
	"English, actually." She tried to match his lightness, but even she
could hear the tremble in her voice.
	She saw his eyes narrow at her tense face, and there was a moment of
silence when she expected him to ask what was wrong, but instead he put out
his hand and drew her gently into the side of him, his arm firm round her
waist. "Enough talking," he said softly, his arm tightening to a band of 
steel
when she would have pulled away. "I have a feeling we're a couple who
shouldn't talk at all."
	"We're not a couple," she protested quickly, before she could stop
herself.
	"See what I mean?" He smiled, but the intent icy blue eyes were piercing
on her face. "We're going to dance, Serena, and I promise I won't say a word
if you don't."
	"Darien, I don't want to…" But her protest was lost at he pulled her
across the stone-slabbed patio directly outside the drawing room doors and
into the bowling-green-smooth lawn, where several other couples were already
dancing to a slow, dreamy number.
	Her heart was beating rapidly as he pulled her closer to him, his hands
about her waist so that her own were forced to rise and rest on his broad
shoulders.
	"This is nice." He bent down and nuzzled her ear briefly, before raising
his head again and looking straight into her flushed face. "Don't you 
think?"
he added mildly.
	"Darien I think you ought to know…"
	"Yes?" They had begun to dance as she had spoken. "What is it you think
I should know?" he asked huskily, his dark face very tender.
	"I'm not looking for any sort of relationship at the moment." She
stumbled over the words, speaking too quickly but knowing if she didn't say 
it
now, she never would. And it wasn't because she was waiting for another
occasion when a rebuff would be more appropriate either, she admitted to
herself. It was because…because being in his arms like this was too
intoxicating, too dangerous. It made her want more, much more, and she had 
to
deal with this thing that was beginning to take a firmer and firmer hold 
now.
	"No?" He moved her even closer to his hard, masculine frame, so that her
head rested against his chest and she could hear the steady beat of his 
heart
through his shirt and jacket. The clean, wholesome smell of freshly 
laundered
clothes mingled with the cool lemony scent of his skin and expensive
aftershave. "And you think I am?"
	"I don't know," she said with touching honesty, tilting back her head
and looking straight into the mercurial blue gaze. "But I think it's only 
fair
to make it clear how I feel." She knew her voice was breathless, but she
couldn't help it; their bodies fitted together like the two halves of a
jigsaw, as though they have been made for each other, and the little shivers
running up and down her spine were interfering with her breathing.
	"That's very brave." She had lowered her head, but now raised it again
abruptly, unsure if he was being sarcastic. But the dark face was very
serious, his eyes showing something that could almost have been compassion. 
"I
could have said I'm not in the least interested, that you've taken too much 
on
yourself," he stated softly. "Couldn't I?"
	"Yes." It was weak and wobbly, but the sensations turning her blood to
liquid fire confirmed the necessity that this attraction was killed stone-
dead.
	"But we would both know that wasn't true," he said almost thoughtfully.
"I do want you, Serena. I want you very badly, as it happens, although I'm 
not
quite sure why. You're very beautiful, but I meet a lot of beautiful women,
and not one have affected me the way you have. There's something about you…"
He shook in head in mild self-derision. "I can't explain it, even to 
myself."
	"Darien--"
	"We need to talk about this privately." He interrupted her trembling
whisper by the simple expedient of drawing her away from the others into the
soft shadows either side of the more brightly lit dancing area, moving 
swiftly
into a small hidden circle of flowering bushes, which were perfuming the 
cool
night air with the scent of mint and something exotic, before she could 
grasp
what was happening.
	"No." She tried to pull away from him as he turned her to face him, but
he merely drew her close again, kissing her forehead with warm lips.
	"It's all right, don't panic. I'm not going to hurt you," he said
softly, one arm a band of steel about her waist and his other hand cupping 
her
chin with exquisite gentleness. "I'm not quite the ogre you have been led to
believe."
	He was. And he wasn't. And she didn't know what she felt or believed
anymore, Serena thought wretchedly. Except…Except she had to made sure she
never saw him again.
	"I want to go to the others." Strangely, in view of the circumstances,
she didn't feel panic or distress, she realized shakily. He wasn't the sort 
of
man who would force himself on woman--she didn't know how she knew that, she
just did. But she did feel fearful--although not at what Darien Chiba might
do. No, her fear was all tied-up in the self-knowledge of how she would
respond to him if he started to make love to her. She wanted him. For the
first time in her life she wanted a man's touch, his kisses…
	"You don't want other people around any more than I do," Darien
challenged huskily. "An when we talk things just get more complicated, 
right?
So let's keep this simple…"
	and now his mouth moved possessively over hers, but instead of the
determined assault she was expecting his lips were sweet and tender, kissing
her so expertly that she felt herself relax into his hard frame, a little 
sigh
of pleasure escaping her mouth.
	The sound of Darien's breathing was heavy and uneven, but it didn't
register on her drugged senses for some minutes, and then, when she began to
understand the control he was exerting, it caused her to kiss him back as 
she
allowed him greater access to her inner mouth.
	He groaned softly, the sound thrilling her as her body melted in liquid
pleasure, and the night became mid-night blue behind the closed eyelids. He
kisses her thoroughly, very thoroughly, taking his time and moving from a
delicate and tantalizing exploration of her mouth to a fierce, urgent
plundering that had her shivering in response.
	She was lost in the wonder of how she was feeling, and the rigid
hardness in the big frame so close to hers told her Darien was aroused too. 
It
ought to frightened her, Serena told herself helplessly; since Allan Ginga's
attack the knowledge of a man's arousal had become repugnant and alien, but
this was different. He was different.
	She knew her body was responding to him, and she knew he must be aware
of it too, but somehow it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. And then the
potential danger in that very thought broke through the euphoria like a 
bucket
of cold water, and she jerked backwards, taking him completely by surprise.
	"Don't." She stared at him through the shadow, her voice trembling and
her eyes huge dark pools as she instinctively placed the back of her hand
across her mouth. "I don't want this."
	"I don't believe you." It was a matter-of-fact, not threatening, but
then, as she took another step backwards, his voice tightening as he said,
"For crying out loud, Serena, stop looking at me like that. I kissed you, 
that
all."
	It might have been nothing to him, but it had been cataclysmic as far as
she was concerned, Serena thought weakly, the knowledge making her suddenly
terribly vulnerable. He thought she was making a huge fuss over nothing--it
was there in the cool blueness of his eyes, and the way his mouth had 
thinned
and straightened--but she couldn't help the way she felt. She had allowed 
him
to kiss her, really kiss her, which was more than she had done with any 
other
man for years. But it wasn't just that which was causing this feeling of
panic. It was a hundred other things, all tied up with the lazy authority in
that tall, male figure, the way he seemed to know exactly what she wanted, 
the
way he had commanded her response. His power over her was terrify.
	She turned on the last thought, hearing his growl of, "Serena, what the
hell…?" as she sped into the light, winging her way across the lawn and into
the house as though the devil himself was after her.
	After diving into the downstairs cloakroom, she bolted the door after
her sand sat down with little plop on the small upholstered chair in front 
of
the mirror, only then realising she was shaking from head to foot.
	He must think she was mad--stark, staring mad, she told herself ruefully
as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, noticing her full, swollen
lips, and flushed cheeks with a little sigh of despair. A kill that would 
mean
nothing to a man like him, but to her it had been one of the most intimate
moments of her life. She sighed again, tears pricking at the back of her
eyelids, before she straightened her back, and the stare changed to a glare.
	"Right, Serena Tsukino," she murmured softly, her eyes narrowing,
"that's enough. You are going to get back out there and act perfectly normal
until you can order a taxi and leave with some dignity." She nodded at the
sombre reflection. "And don't forget this is all your fault anyway. You 
should
never swords with Darien Chiba. You just aren't in his league, girl."
	This fact was reinforced when, after some then minutes or so, she had
regained her equilibrium enough to leave her little sanctuary and venture 
out
into the massive hall. The crowd had thinned a little, people had spread
themselves out into the prettily lit night as well as the house, but there 
was
still quite a few people left as Serena tentatively emerged into the throng.
	She had half expected Darien to be waiting for her--his face cold and
angry and those riveting eyes expressing his disgust--but as she emerged he
was nowhere to be seen. And then, as she moved slowly into the drawing room,
and the crowd parted to reveal the garden beyond for a brief moment, she
caught sight of him. And one of the tall, willowy blonde hanging onto his 
arm
and staring up into the dark, handsome features with adoring eyes.
	She turned in one movement as the gaily dresses assembly blocked her
view again, and was out of the front door before she even though about it,
walking down the long, winding drive with her head held high and praying 
that
he wouldn't notice her leave.
	She should have known, she should have know… There was an attendant on
duty standing at the bottom of the drive near the gates, and the burly 
middle-
aged man had a fatherly air as he tried to persuade her to wait until he
called a taxi. "It's a bit late for you to be walking about by yourself,
miss," he said worriedly. "This is a better area than most, but you get the
weirdos all places these days."
	"I’ll be fine." She managed a firm but appreciative smile.
"There's…there's someone picking me up just down the road."
	He didn't look at though he believed her, but he couldn't very well say
so, and after one despairing glance in the direction of the party, now
concealed by bushed and trees, he opened the gates and let her through into
the quiet, sedate street beyond.
	Serena fairly flew along the pavement, her heart pounding, although it
was less to do with the chance of the said weirdos appearing than a certain
tall, blue-eyed millionaire in his gold Mercedes.
	The road seemed endless, although she remembered from her previous
visits before Darien had bought Greenacres that there was a very nice pub 
some
three or four hundred yards away. Sure enough, as she rounded a slight bend 
in
the road, there it was. It seemed in no time a taxi was drawing up at the 
pub
door in answer to the telephone call the ruddy-faced publican had made for
her, she was on her way home…and out of Darien Chiba's life.