Storm Cycle

by Margaret Pargeter

  Storm Cycle

  Margaret Pargeter

  Zoe had known Reece Macadam since she was a child. He had provided comfort and encouragement--but damned if he was going to run her life now!.

  Ever since she could remebered, Zoe Kerr had experienced a feeling of love and hatred towards Reece Macadam. Perhaps it was due to the age difference; she was nineteen years and he, thirty and six. However, one thing was settled; an attraction existed between current whenever they were near. And one day, Zoe’s feelings changed and all hatred had disappeared, becoming love towards Reece. But, as what purpose did it serve? It was evident that his fellings remained unalterable.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Zoe was having a wonderful dream. She was out sailing. The sky was blue, the sea calm, and Macadam was with her. He had his arm around her and was smiling. There was something in his eyes she tried hard to see and in her eagerness to discover what it was she leaned too far over. The boat began rocking dangerously and she cried out.

  Macadam's arm tightened painfully and his voice was impatient. 'Come on, Zoe, snap out of it, girl. Wake up!'

  Zoe blinked, for a moment unable to comprehend where she was. Macadam was still with her, staring down at her, but he certainly wasn't smiling. The expression on his face was one of anger rather than pleasure, and they were in his office, not his boat, and he was shaking her, which would account for the rocking sensation.

  'Macadam?' Drowsily she looked at him, her green eyes bemused.

  After muttering something short and sharp beneath his breath, he snapped, 'What in heaven's name do you think you're doing here at this time of night, girl? Haven't I told you repeatedly not to come back to the once after you've finished work?'

  After work-oh! Fully awake now, Zoe scrambled to her feet, her small face flushed. After she had finished checking the books she must have fallen asleep and started dreaming. 'You don't understand,' she murmured, her eyes widening anxiously. 'I helped Donald this afternoon, while you were away, and you did say you wanted the Renfrew account sorted out.'

  'You didn't have to help Donald,' he said curtly, his arm going out to steady her as she stumbled. Roughly he pulled her against him, one of his hands holding her fair head against his shoulder while his other tightened on her waist. 'You don't have to run each time Donald lifts his little finger.'

  It wasn't the first time Zoe had been in Macadam's arms. Ever since she was small he had rescued her from the scrapes she was always getting into, and as usual she found his closeness comforting. When his long fingers began gently massaging the back of her neck she began feeling drowsy again. He was tall, his shoulders broad, and much as she disliked him he gave her a great feeling of security.

  She sighed deeply, strangely content until she heard a sharp little cough behind them. Abruptly she straightened to peer past Macadam's large frame. She hadn't realised he had his girl-friend with him. Ursula Findlay regarded her coldly, a look which Zoe returned in full measure. If there was one person she couldn't stand it was Ursula Findlay.

  Sharply she tugged herself free of Macadam's sustaining arms. 'You can let go of me,' she said wilfully. 'I thank I can manage without your assistance. I'm tired, not tipsy.'

  Macadam's mouth thinned and Ursula exclaimed haughtily, 'You surely don't allow your workers to speak to you like that, darling?'

  Zoe knew a fleeting triumph when Macadam replied shortly, 'Zoe's tired-as she says.'

  Ursula frowned. 'I wish you'd get yourself a proper secretary, Reece. I actually know of someone who would suit you much better. After all, your boatyard's no longer the small concern it used to be.'

  'Which might speak for itself,' Macadam returned dryly.

  Zoe, making no sense of this whatsoever, felt be- wildered, but only fools didn't realise when they were being got at. How dared Ursula suggest she wasn't good enough for Macadam? Well, Miss High and Mighty Findlay was about to discover some people fought back!

  'Oh, Macadam,' she said sweetly, her smooth young face particularly innocent, 'Miss Vintis rang, just after you'd gone today. She said she was sorry about having to cancel your date for this evening, but she'll be delighted to dine with you tomorrow. Her mother gave her your message and she was sorry she'd missed you.' Disregarding the warning glitter in Macadam's dark blue eyes, she added recklessly, 'She hoped you'd been able to find someone else.'

  As Zoe had expected, Ursula was immediately furious that she had been made a convenience of at the last minute. Before Macadam could get a word in, she lost her temper completely. She used language which Zoe considered no lady should use, not while she entertained any hopes of marring the man she was addressing it to. If Ursula had kept her mouth shut and allowed a pathetic little tear to fall instead, Macadam might have reacted quite differently.

  Zoe watched Ursula with pitying contempt. She had always suspected the girl had no brains, and this proved it. Macadam might have explained, if Ursula had given him half a chance, that his meetings with Miss Vintis were purely business, and arranged to suit her convenience, not his. Now he was so stiff with pride, Zoe knew he would never willingly explain any- thing. From the look on his face, Ursula's days were clearly numbered.

  While feeling somewhat responsible, Zoe had no real regrets. If Macadam couldn't see for himself how most of his girl-friends were entirely unsuitable-well, someone had to! And it wasn't such an easy task. His apparent preference for beautiful but brainless women might have been easier to understand if he hadn't been so totally level-headed in other ways. Zoe found it very strange that such an arrogantly good-looking man of thirty-six should be so consistently blind when it came to women. Admittedly he appeared to have a kind of built-in radar device which enabled him to escape their final clutches, but Zoe derived little comfort from this. One day she feared he might succumb to the wiles of one of these dizzy, designing females, who would never tolerate the long hours he spent at the boatyard. It was for the sake of the boatyard, its future survival, she told herself firmly, that she felt compelled to keep such a close eye on Macadam's affairs.

  Feeling quite pleased with her night's work, Zoe was complacent until she met Macadam's eyes again, and uncomfortably her heart gave a sudden lurch. He couldn't have guessed what she was up to. No, it wasn't possible. Of course he would be annoyed that she had been indiscreet, and she didn't doubt there would be repercussions, but when she explained that she had been too tired to realise what she was saying, and he had read her a little lecture-to which she needn't listen-then all would be forgiven.

  He couldn't really do much else, could he? Zoe allowed herself to grow complacent again. She might not be a good secretary in the accepted sense, though she could spell and add and type neatly. It was her complete understanding of boatyard and boatbuilding jargon which made her indispensable. This and the ability to survive his temper! This was what the Ursulas of this world failed to understand.

  'Let's get out of here,' Macadam said coldly, as Ursula was forced to pause for breath. Seconds later he was locking the door. 'I'll drop you off, Ursula.'

  'Why don't you tell her she's dropped?' Zoe muttered cynically.

  'What was that?' Macadam swung round on her.

  'I said, she's stopped-to myself, Macadam.' His blue eyes icy, he surveyed her narrowly. 'In the car,' he said explosively, 'at once!'

  Almost throwing her into the back seat, he helped Ursula more gently in beside him. 'I'll soon have you home.' His voice cooled politely.

  'Oh, but Reece!' Ursula protested sharply, 'aren't we going on to Vicente's to dance?'

  Vicente's was about the only place in the small, west coast of Scotland town, where people could eat, drink and dance to all hours. Zoe leaned forward, pricking her ears.

  'Sorry,' Macadam replied, reeling the power
ful car as if it was one of his racing boats at sea, 'I'm afraid I've changed my mind about dancing. I don't feel much like it now.'

  Ursula, Zoe saw, cast him a quick glance. 'Don't be silly, darling,' she wheedled. 'Just because I was a little upset . . .'

  'You had no need to be,' he retorted.

  'You mean?' Ursula stared at him, her eyes wavering uncertainly.

  'I mean, why don't women learn to think first and speak later, instead of the other way round?'

  There was a short, tense silence, during which Ursula appeared to lose her temper again. 'If I jumped to the wrong conclusions,' she snapped back, 'it was entirely the fault of that impossible girl you insist on employing as your secretary!'

  'She has a name.'

  'I know all about her and her disreputable family,' Ursula blazed. 'Who doesn't?'

  'Really?'

  If Reece Macadam's smooth intonation held a hint of warning, Ursula, obviously didn't hear it. 'Yes!' she all but spat. 'She has a name, but nothing to what I'd like to call her. She's a little bitch! She put ideas into my head about Miss Vintis. If it wasn't true what she said then she must have done it deliberately to make me angry. After all, no girl likes to feel she's been used as a last-minute substitute for someone else.'

  'You're probably right,' Macadam said indifferently.

  Outraged, Ursula cried shrilly, 'It's her you should be annoyed with, Reece, not me!'

  The lint of his jaw hardened. 'If you're talking about Zoe, I'll deal with her later.'

  'You ought to sack her!' Ursula spluttered.

  'l should?' Macadam's brows rose dryly.

  Was he agreeing or asking a question? Zoe wondered, suddenly anxious.

  'Everyone knows you let her get away with murder!' Ursula rounded off vindictively.

  Macadam drew up sharply outside a large modern house. 'Goodbye, Ursula,' he said pointedly.

  Ursula, after another furious glance at both of them, flounced out of the car, slamming the door.

  Zoe stared after her, her startled glance quite unfeigned. Some people gave up very easily. 'She didn't expect that,' she said.

  'Shut up!' tersely.

  ‘I was only passing a remark.'

  'You've no right to be passing anything,'' he snapped.

  'I've a right to be mad, surely,' Zoe muttered unwisely. 'Didn't you hear what she called me?'

  'Wait till I get started!'

  While Zoe shivered uneasily, he drove swiftly out of the town. He didn't take her straight home but along the coast road. The wind rose in squalls, there was a high tide running, the night was wild.

  'Where are you going?' Zoe asked, alarmed. 'You know if I don't get in at a reasonable hour, Grandfather's furious.'

  'That might be the least of your worries. I'll have a word with him.'

  Uncertainly she frowned at him. Macadam was still in a temper. She decided to play it cool. 'I'm sure that won't be necessary. Not if you say what you have to say quickly and take me back?'

  When he didn't say anything, either quickly or otherwise, her uneasiness increased. Macadam frequently took her home when they worked late, but he had never brought her this far before. As he drew off the road on top of a bleak deserted headland, she clutched his arm, driven to ask,

  'Why have you brought me here?'

  'Why do you think?' His voice lashed her coldly.

  Her hand dropped from his arm. 'Surely tomorrow would have done?'

  'Not this time,' he retorted menacingly. 'This time I intend having my say without half my men rushing in to rescue you.'

  'Why . . .' she began, her eyes widening indignantly.

  'Don't try pleading innocence with me!' he rasped. 'Every time I raise my voice to you they're there, trumping up some unlikely excuse in order to rescue their helpless little chick. Well, for once,' he continued sarcastically, 'no one's going to get the chance of playing Sir Galahad!'

  Alarm made her brash. 'You-you don't really mind about Miss Findlay, do you, Macadam?'

  'That,' he replied, 'is none of your business.'

  'I'm your secretary,' she protested.

  'Which doesn't give you the right to run-or try to run-my private, personal life!'

  How could he say that when she was often with him almost twenty-four hours of the day? Mutinously she said aloud, 'It's a different story, though, when I have to explain to your ex-girl-friends when they ring up that you're too busy to speak to them. You always ask me to do it. What's that if it's not part of your private, personal life?'

  His blue eyes decidedly chilly, he ignored this. 'And so,' he said silkily, 'the list of my ex-girl-friends, as you choose to call them, grows, shall I say, mysteriously longer. Just how do you intend explaining what happened tonight? You know very well it's Miss Vintis who's been pushing the dinner dates, not me, and I only accepted in order to finalise the deal with her father over two new boats. You could have mentioned it, if you had to, without deliberately giving Ursula the wrong impression.'

  'It was the way she was looking at me,' Zoe mumbled, as if this should explain everything.

  'Why shouldn't she look at you anyway she likes?' he rapped. 'She was my guest.'

  'Meaning?'

  'I'm your boss.'

  Zoe's cheeks flamed at the total lack of feeling in his voice. 'You may feel you need to emphasise the fact, but you couldn't do without me, Macadam.'

  'Don't be too sure,' he rejoined softly, 'I might even be tempted to take up Ursula's offer. A new secretary could have other possibilities.'

  'Don't you dare, Macadam!' she gasped. 'Don't you dare!'

  'Don't you dare try and tell me what I may or may not do,' he countered, his eyes glacial.

  They stared at each other warily, as they had been doing for years, ever since Zoe was a child and Macadam had first come to join his uncle at the boat-yard. She was nineteen now, but the years seemed to have made little difference. There was still the same antagonism between them, still the same spark which one wrong word could ignite into a raging conflagration.

  'So you thank I owe you an apology?' she murmured.

  'That, or else . . !' he threatened implacably.

  'You wouldn't really send me away, Macadam?' Zoe's face paled and she shivered at the thought. She didn't want to leave Macadam.

  Narrow-eyed, he regarded her silently. 'I might be doing you a good turn, at that.' Soberly he paused again before adding, 'All you ever seem to think of is the boatyard and what goes on there. I'm not sure that it's healthy for a girl of your age. How old are you, Zoe?'

  'Nineteen.'

  'And never seen anything yet. Have you even had a boy friend?'

  'You would have known.'

  'Not necessarily,' he said curtly. 'I'm abroad quite a bit and I take an occasional break. You could be up to anything while I'm away.'

  'I usually tell you what I've been doing when you get back,' she reminded him. 'You know I have a full day at the office and spend most evenings at the boat- yard. I don't have much time for boy-friends.'

  Macadam said dryly, 'You could make some time for other things, including boy-friends.'

  'Do you think anyone would really fancy me?' she asked slowly.

  'Any reason why not?' his glance travelled over her frostily, as if she had dared criticise something he had fashioned himself. 'You’re too thin, but you have plenty of shape in the right places. Your skin is beautiful, so are your eyes, and your hair is thick and long and glossy. Your . . .' he paused abruptly when he arrived at her mouth, taking in the soft, sensuous fullness of it, which clearly threatened the untouched innocence of her face. His own tightened and he quickly transferred his interest to her nose.

  ‘Do i have a smut on it?’ Zoe asked somewhat aggressively, not at all sure she appreciated such an intimate surveillance.

  ‘No,’ he smiled, although it looked forced, ‘it's very nice.’

  'A bit silly.’

  ‘I don't think so.' He ran a teasing finger lightlydown the slightly tilted tip of it
. 'A little cheeky per­haps, but delightful.'

  Feeling the pulse in her throat for the first time she could remember, Zoe jerked back. It beat un-comfortably fast. Never having been aware of it before, she felt nervous. 'You're making fun of me,' she accused him.

  'Not entirely.'

  Because she still felt distracted, she confessed with­out meaning to, 'Ian's asked me to see a film with him on Saturday night.'

  'Graham?'

  'Yes.' She looked out across the wind-tossed sea.

  'Are you going?'

  'I said I'd let him know.' The waves were breaking on the jagged rocks below, throwing foaming spray a mile high, towards a darkening sky.