Master of Comus

by Charlotte Lamb

  Leonie's eyes rested thoughtfully on Paul. Diane stood beside him, her hand on his arm in that possessive gesture, smiling at him. Paul had lost his frown, and was grinning, his eyes full of the amused indulgence a man might feel towards the playful aggression of a kitten.

  Emilie looked, sighed. 'Yes, she is very dangerous. Believe me, you will have to be on your guard with her.'

  'I doubt if I'll see much of her,' said Leonie. She thought longingly of her uncomplicated life in London. How restful it would be to return to it, take up her daily routine and forget this Arabian Nights glamour which disguised a cold heart and a malicious mind.

  If this was the world Paul inhabited she wanted no part of it. She would rather return to Comus and spend the next few months with Argon. He would be lonely there, and she was sure that he would welcome her return. Paul would not be able to complain, surely? It was only natural for her to stay with Argon when he was so ill?

  Diane played the piano for them while they sat and listened with blank faces. Her touch was sure and delicate, yet the music, like the beautiful house, had no soul, and left one curiously unsatisfied. Diane was like a glittering mirror which reflects nothing but itself.

  They left at eleven. As they walked to their car Emilie slipped close beside Leonie and whispered, 'Have dinner with us tomorrow—just you and Paul. I did not want to make the invitation publicly or I would have had to invite Diane.'

  Leonie smiled warmly. 'I would love to, thank

  you.'

  While Paul was unlocking the car Doris Nieman hurried up and made a similar invitation, adding shyly, 'Just you and Paul, no one else ... or would that be dull for you?'

  'I would like it very much,' said Leonie, beginning to feel better.

  Doris gave her a sweet smile. 'Good. I'll ring you tomorrow. Perhaps we could do some shopping together? Carl always says it's my vice, but I just adore Paris shops!'

  'In the car driving home, Paul said quietly, 'I am sorry for Diane's behaviour.'

  'I would prefer not to see much of her,' Leonie said, deciding that there was no point in pretending to like the woman. 'I'm sorry if that offends you...'

  'No, I understand it, but George is a good friend of mine, and Diane can be fun when she's not behaving like a piranha. She's a man's woman. There's no reason why you should see her apart from the occasional dinner.' He shot her a look. 'You liked the others, didn't you?'

  'Yes, particularly Emilie. She's invited us to dinner tomorrow. Will that be convenient?'

  'Yes, of course. I'm glad you're making friends with little Emilie. She's a nice little thing.' He hesitated, then added, 'You have to realise that you're coming into my world now. These are all old friends of mine, business friends most of them, as well as social ones. As my wife you will be expected to become part of our circle.'

  'Yes, I accept that,' she said. 'But Diane's behaviour is more than I can swallow.'

  'It was outrageous,' he agreed. 'But that's Diane ... she won't change and we have to accept her.

  Leonie was silent.

  After a while he said coolly, 'Jake, too. It would be wisest for you to avoid him. He's a male version of Diane.'

  'I liked him,' she said deliberately, angry with his attitude to Diane.

  'I noticed,' he said drily.

  'Paul, I was thinking ... if Argon is really ill, shouldn't one of us be with him? I could fly back to Comus for a while. It would be obvious to everyone why I'd gone...'

  'No,' Paul said decisively. 'You stay with me.' 'But Argon...'

  'Argon would rather you stayed with me,' he said. 'All Argon wants is for you to get pregnant.'

  Leonie felt a cruel twist of pain in her stomach and clenched her hands into two fists, biting her lip.

  They arrived back at the flat in total silence. While Paul parked the car she went up to the flat and went into the bathroom. She showered and put on a nightdress, then went into the kitchen to make a nightcap. She heard Paul come in, walk along the hall. Doors clicked softly. Water ran. Leonie stirred the milky chocolate and hesitated for a moment, then tapped on the bathroom door.

  'I've made some hot chocolate,' she said.

  He emerged, towelling his hair. It was almost dark with water. His short towelling dressing-gown clung to his damp body, his bare legs making it plain he wore no pyjamas beneath it.

  She turned away. 'I left your chocolate in the kitchen,' she said, moving towards her own bedroom.

  Paul stood watching her as she closed the door. She put her drink down on her bedside table, flung her dressing-gown down on the bed and turned down the covers. She was about to get into bed when the door opened. She looked round, her heart in her throat. Paul stood there, staring at her.

  His hand moved towards the light switch. Dry- mouthed, Leonie stood frozen to the spot as the room was plunged into darkness. Paul moved softly, quickly. A few seconds later she was in his arms, protesting, struggling.

  His lips searched along her face as she twisted her head away. Her hair fell between them, and he nuzzled his way through the silky strands to find her mouth.

  Against the hot invasion of his kiss she whispered frantically, 'No, Paul

  Grimly, silently, he pushed her down on the bed and fell on top of her, his weight crushing her into breathless submission. Her brain was in angry panic. She loved him, but she did not want him to take her like this—she wanted his love, not his silent love- making. There was no tenderness in his kisses, only a fierce determination to compel her submission.

  Then he raised himself above her. A pale glimmer of moonlight fell over her face. His features were partially visible, his eyes a quick glimmer as they searched her body in a comprehensive glance.

  One hand was caressing her slowly, her naked shoulders, her breasts, her waist. She trembled under his touch. 'Don't, Paul,' she whispered faintly. 'Please, go away. I don't want you to...

  'You're my wife.'

  'In name only,' she reminded him angrily. 'We made a bargain, and you must keep that bargain.

  'I can't,' he said, his voice harsh. 'I realised that, tonight. Until you're mine I shall know no peace of mind. Jake suspects the truth—he said something to me tonight.'

  'How could he guess——' She was incredulous.

  Paul laughed fiercely. 'Jake is too experienced not to recognise innocence when he sees it. You don't have the look of a radiant young bride, my dear, You look ... untouched. And to a man like Jake that situation would be too tempting to resist.'

  'Doesn't it occur to you that I can resist Jake?'

  'Perhaps,' he said coolly. 'But what am I supposed to do while Jake is in hot pursuit? Ignore the situation? No—there's only one way out.' His voice was heavy, as though he was as reluctant as she was, and bitter pain welled up inside her. She pushed at his shoulders, wriggling to get away, but he was too strong for her. In a moment she was pinned to the bed again, his mouth descending in a kiss which drove all thought of anything but him out of her head.

  Abandoning the struggle, she relaxed, and as if her body had only been waiting for her mind to relinquish control, a flood of sweet sensation washed over her.

  Paul's hands moved sensually against her and she sobbed out his name, her own fingers searching against the hard muscled body above her, her desire beating up like a great flame.

  Pleasure ached deep inside her, her limbs felt heavily languorous. Paul's lips parted against her throat, slid down slowly to her breasts. 'Darling,' he murmured. 'I won't hurt you.'

  Leonie barely heard him. Through a mist of pleasure and desire she heard herself saying his name over and over again, her voice weak with total surrender.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LIGHT was dancing under her eyelids. She reluctantly opened them and found the room flooded with sunlight and Paul moving between the bed and the window, his body fully clothed in a dark suit.

  For a few seconds she only stared at him, still drugged with the deepest, sweetest sleep of her life. Then memory washed back into her mind
and she shrank back against the pillows, her cheeks growing scarlet.

  Paul walked to the door. 'I brought you your breakfast,' he said coolly. 'Tea and toast. I hope it's what you wanted. I'm afraid I have to go out—I have a business meeting at ten-thirty. I'll be back by one o'clock and we'll go out to lunch.'

  Can't I cook something here?' she asked shyly.

  'I would rather go Out,' he said curtly, as he closed the door and vanished.

  Leonie lay listening to the sound of his footsteps, then the bang of the front door. Last night might have been a dream. They were back in reality, in the cold steel trap of their marriage, two strangers living together in a pretence which grew more difficult to sustain with every passing day.

  She closed her eyes, groaning. How could she have been so lost to self-respect that she had let him make love to her, that she had met him half way, in the end, and responded passionately to his love- making? She despised herself. She had been weak.

  She pulled herself together, sat up and leant over to get her tea. As she did so her eye caught sight of the glint of gold on the pillow, a fine short hair which she recognised as one of Paul's. The sight of it sent a hot wave sweeping over her body as she remembered other moments during the night, the naked brush of his body against her as she slid into sleep, the tingle of his mouth on her throat, her own voice sobbing in surrender.

  When she had nibbled at her toast and drunk her tea, she got out of bed. The mirror gave her back her own reflection, her slim nakedness glowing white in the sun-filled room. She saw faint bruises on her flesh, the marks of love, and hurriedly turned away to find some clothes.

  Later, showered and dressed, she went out to find a grey-haired woman vacuum-cleaning the carpets while a radio blared out pop music in the background. The woman turned to smile at her.

  'Bonjour madame. Je suis Madame Delarge.'

  'Good morning,' Leonie said uncertainly. This must be the woman who cleaned the flat. She had not come yesterday, but Paul had mentioned her.

  They exchanged a few polite words, then the telephone rang, and Leonie went to answer it. It was Doris Nieman, her voice friendly and eager.

  'Will you come shopping this morning?'

  'I would like to,' Leonie said, pleased to have someone to talk to this morning. Anything which would take her mind off the previous night was welcome.

  She scribbled a hasty note for Paul, in case he should return early, and went down to meet Doris when her car drew up.

  'Is there something you particularly want to buy?' she asked as the car moved back into the traffic.

  Doris laughed. 'My dear, I want to buy thousands of things—I always do. But today I 'm just browsing, and that's the way I like it best. I'm an impulse buyer. I browse and snatch at interesting little titbits. It drives Carl mad.'

  'It sounds fun,' Leonie smiled. She had never been able to afford such haphazard shopping, when she bought something it was because she needed it, she planned ahead and organised her shopping, whether of food or clothes. Living on a limited income made one cost-conscious.

  They parked and wandered along the wide, elegant shopping centres, sauntering beside plate glass windows and gazing at the objects displayed with the contented appraisal of people who are just amusing themselves. Doris halted to make a detailed inspection of a pale calf handbag.

  'Nice, don't you think?'

  There was no price ticket, but Leonie suspected that she would find the price shocking. But she said, 'Very nice, indeed.'

  Doris chewed on her lower lip. 'I think ... yes, I really think I might ... but first I must find shoes to match ... we can come back when we've found them...'

  They found the shoes half a mile away. By then Leonie's legs and feet were throbbing with exhaustion. Doris, however, seemed untiring. When she had tried the shoes, bought them and left the shop, she looked at Leonie with a twinkle in her eyes.

  'My dear girl, you look half dead!' She turned and snapped her fingers with the easy expectation of the rich and at once a taxi materialised out of thin air. Leonie was admiringly awe-struck. She had always found it impossible to find a taxi when she wanted one.

  They arrived at-the shop in which they had seen the handbag, bought it and left again. Then Doris drove Leonie back to Paul's flat, talking cheerfully about her husband, her friends and life in general.

  'A pity you had to meet Diane on your first evening,' she said. 'But Paul may have been wise. Sometimes it's best to take the worst fence first. The others seem easy afterwards.'

  Leonie laughed. 'So you don't like her, either?'

  'Who does?' said Doris. 'George?'

  'That poor squashed worm,' said Doris.

  Leonie could not help smiling, but she said, I liked George, actually.'

  'Everyone does, but remember, honey, George chose to marry Diane of his own free will. That makes him a fool in my book. Even a blind man could see what sort of poisonous female she was ...'

  'We can't always choose where we love,' Leonie said. 'She's very beautiful.'

  'So is a viper, but they're both deadly.'

  Doris dropped her at the flat and drove off, waving. Leonie found Paul already back, his hands restlessly fingering the edges of the book he was reading.

  He looked up as she entered the room and laid down his book. 'There you are! I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you.' The blue eyes searched hers intently. 'You say you were with

  Doris?'

  'We went shopping.' Leonie sank into a chair and slipped off her shoes, bending to massage her ankles wearily. 'When Doris goes shopping she really takes it seriously. I'm exhausted!'

  Paul crouched down and took one of her ankles in his hand, rubbing finger and thumb gently over the fine bones, while he looked up at her.

  'See anybody else?'

  His tone struck her as odd. She frowned. 'No.

  Why?'

  'I just wondered,' he said she stared at him. 'Wondered what?'

  'Jake rang before I left,' he said curtly. 'He asked if we would have lunch with him, but I refused.'

  She flushed. 'So you suspected me of secretly meeting him this morning? Thanks! You certainly trust me, don't you?'

  'I trust you. I don't trust Jake.'

  'Paul, I'm not in the habit of lying. If I see Jake I'll tell you. I won't make a big secret of it.'

  He nodded, looking down at her feet. 'You have lovely feet, did you know? Long and slender, beautifully formed.'

  Her heart began to pound in her breast. She was shaken by his tone.

  'Your legs are lovely, too,' he went on, in the same voice. His hand moved slowly up her calf, the fingers caressing. 'You're a very desirable woman. I don't blame Jake for wanting you. I saw right from the start that he was very attracted. I should have realised he would be, but I didn't expect him to arrive on the scene so soon.' He lifted his blue gaze to her face. 'Jake is a very experienced hunter. Don't underestimate him. He'll use any weapon, however unscrupulous, to get his own way.'

  'All right, you've warned me. Now can we go and get some lunch? I' m Starving.'

  He stood up. Leonie slipped back into her shoes, wincing as she stood up. Paul grinned.

  'Poor girl, you do look tired.'

  'Next time I go shopping with Doris I'll take a wheelchair!'

  He laughed. 'Carl often - complains about her shopping. He refuses to go with her, but she likes to have company on her treks around town.'

  'Thanks for the warning.'

  They went out to lunch at a large restaurant near the Seine. The bay windows looked out over the river. The blue sky shimmered in a heat haze and seagulls skimmed low over the water, screaming for fish.

  Paul ordered the meal, saying that Leonie could trust him not to order anything she did not like. 'I think I know your tastes by now.'

  He had ordered fresh sardines followed by roast beef French style, the meat pink and moist in thick rectangular slices, served with salad and saute potatoes.

  Leonie was so hungry
that she would have eaten almost anything, but the superb cooking impressed her considerably.

  After lunch they drove into the French countryside for a few hours, lingering at will wherever they saw something interesting. It was an enchanting interlude stolen from the over-sophisticated city life of the night before, like wandering into a fairy tale for a few hours, and Leonie wished it need never end. Paul was a gay, charming companion, gentle and sympathetic, filled with deep enthusiasm for France and its landscapes, telling her old French legends and fairy tales, talking warmly about French food and French wine.

  'You really love this country,' she said, watching his handsome face as he fell silent.

  Very much,' he agreed, turning his head to smile. A lock of blond hair fell over his forehead in a smooth swathe, and she felt a sudden longing to reach up with her hand and push it back just to feel the silkiness of it under her fingers.

  Their eyes met, and Paul's blue gaze suddenly darkened. He reached out for her with one long- fingered hand. Helpless to resist, she let him pull her close, turned her mouth up towards him and was engulfed by a rush of blind passion which shook her to her soul. The warm sunshine, the peaceful afternoon, had lulled her into drowsy content, weakening her power of resistance. She clung to him, pulses clamouring, and knew fatally that if he came to her again tonight she would never be able to send him away.

  When he drew back his mouth she made a low moan of protest, her lids tightly closed, her hands still clinging to him. Paul started the engine again and she reluctantly opened her eyes, releasing him. He drove in silence, his brows drawn together in a dark line. She wondered why he looked so angry. Was he furious with himself for making love to her again? His reactions were inexplicable. She had ceased to believe she would ever make sense of him. When they made their original bargain it had been clear between them that their marriage would be one of convenience, yet Paul had now insisted on making her his wife in passionate reality. Apparently his decision had been dictated by a desire to make sure she did not enter into a flirtation with Jake Tennyson and cause some sort of scandal. Yet he had made love to her so hotly; her body had recognised the feel of real passion, even though her mind had doubted him. What did he really feel towards her? Did he still resent their marriage? Had his passionate lovemaking been in some way a punishment, a revenge?