Storm Cycle

by Margaret Pargeter

  She flushed guiltily, unable to deviate. 'How did you guess?'

  'It wasn't difficult to put two and two together,' he said dryly. 'I can assure you Miss Vintis arrived home at a very respectable hour. Too respectable for her liking, I suspect.'

  'Then it can only be Ursula?' she frowned.

  'Zoe!' he exclaimed, his eyes glinting. 'You're like a dog with a bone!'

  Bitterly she returned his impatient glance. 'I'm only concerned for you, for the good of the yard, if you like.' Even to her own ears that sounded very trite and she looked away from him angrily.

  'I appreciate your concern,' Macadam said soberly.

  For all his straight face, she felt instinctively that he was laughing at her. 'You have so many women!' she exaggerated outrageously.

  'But I never think of more than one at once,' he assured her, 'and I'm here with you, tonight.'

  As Zoe flushed, as if to punish her, he placed a mocking hand over hers as it lay on the table. Embarrassed, she snatched it away. 'I'm not one of your women!' she hissed.

  'Wouldn't you like to be?' he wondered idly.

  'I was never good at competing,' she retorted mutin­ously.

  'If the competition involved sharp answers you would win hands down,' he said grimly. 'Don't worry,'Ik- smiled without humour as she shrank from him, 'I'm not going to slap you—or kiss you again. You don't imagine I would wish to repeat that experience with such a prickly little hedgehog?'

  'Hedgehog?' Remembering how she had almost melted in his arms, Zoe felt mortally wounded.

  'Yes,' he insisted firmly. 'You curl up inside yourself whenever I attempt to touch you.'

  'Self-defence,' she managed to murmur.

  'I didn't notice any barriers going up when Graham § kissed you?' Macadam returned cynically, 'nor when Freddy Vintis smiled at you.'

  'That was—I mean, they are different,' she said carefully, having no idea where the difference lay. In her heart she knew she considered Macadam superior to every other man she knew, but he must never sus­pect that.

  She was startled but relieved when he rose to his feet abruptly, pulling her to hers and dragging her towards the bar, as if suddenly tired of such pointless conversation. He ordered something from the barman, who set fresh drinks before them. Zoe almost grabbed hers, thinking it would give her fresh courage. Drinking recklessly, she spluttered and choked. It was lemonade and she had drank it too fast. The bubbles went up her nose and she sneezed.

  'Oh, I do hate you!' she gasped as Macadam threw back his head and laughed. He did spare her the ig­nominy of thumping her on the back, but she was too cross to feel grateful.

  'You swallowed that as though you needed it,' he chuckled, passing his handkerchief. 'You should have seen your face when you discovered it was just lem­onade!'

  Before she could reply a voice hailed them. It was the Vintis family, at least the father, daughter and son. Carol Vintis signalled wildly as she approached, as if terrified they might run away. 'Reece, Mr Macadam!' she cried. 'This is a pleasant surprise!'

  'For some people!' Zoe muttered, as was frequently her habit, under her breath. Taking heed of Macadam's cooling glance, she changed her scowl to a smile.

  He greeted the Vintises politely. 'Zoe and I are going next door to dance,' he told them.

  'We've just finished dinner,' Freddy drawled, star­ing at Zoe admiringly. 'It's not a bad little place. Carolsaid' he turned to Macadam, 'you recommended itto her last night.'

  'Yes,' Carol interrupted eagerly, 'that's why we decided to try it out. My mother wouldn't come as she and Dad had a quarrel and aren't speaking to each other, but I'm sure she'll be sorry she's missed it.'

  Charles Vintis said nothing and Zoe glanced at him curiously. Macadam said nothing either, his face giving, as usual, no indication of what he was thinking.

  'Did you say you were going to dance, Reece?' Carol asked, smiling at him while ignoring Zoe. 'Would you mind if we joined you?'

  Tell her no, Zoe prayed silently, resenting such an intrusion. The evening had already been marred by one or two incidents but this seemed the worst of the lot.

  Macadam, of course, said no such thing. 'We won't be staying long but you're welcome to join us if you like.'

  'Did you arrange to meet them here?' Zoe muttered us she circled the spacious floor of the room adjoining the bar in Macadam's arms.

  'No,' he replied tersely.

  'It looks very suspicious!'

  'For heaven's sake, Zoe, don't turn this evening into a greater fiasco than it already is.' His arms tightened almost cruelly.

  Zoe gasped. She had never been out with him like this before; never been so near him, apart from the odd, mistaken incident she didn't care to remember. As they danced, as when they sailed, they seemed to fit perfectly together, but her body was unbearably sensitive. As Macadam's hand moved restlessly on her slender back, his fingers were leaving a blaze of fire wherever they touched. She tried to look cool, to be cool, but the sensation he was generating inside her threatened to burn her up.

  'Macadam?' she whispered, emotion clouding her beautiful almond-shaped eyes. 'I feel . . .'

  'Never mind how you feel!' He roughly pushed a little distance between them, breaking the crushing embrace he was imposing on her.

  Even as he pushed her away, she wanted to cling to him. She continued to stare up at him, her skin prick­ling, her eyes dazed. When she realised his face was a cold mask, she felt her whole body tighten rigidly and forced herself to look away.

  Humiliation brought a quick colour to her cheeks. Her voice husky, she exclaimed, 'Sometimes I don't understand you!'

  'You certainly don't understand yourself,' he spoke between his teeth. 'Until you know what you're doing I'd advise you not to play with fire—unless you're prepared to accept more than you bargained for.'

  Stirring uneasily, Zoe's lashes flickered upwards. So he was warning her not to interfere between him and any of his women again. Bitterly she said, 'I get the message . . .'

  'I doubt if you have.' He watched her enigmatically, but he seemed a little more relaxed.

  'I wish I'd gone out with Ian,' she muttered. 'At least he's easy to understand.'

  'Of course he is!' Macadam bit back. 'No complica­tions there, just one thought in his head—how to get the girl into bed as quickly as possible. If she happens to be a naive little virgin, all the better. Graham loves new experiences, especially sexual ones. He wouldn't believe some situations call for delicate handling. A man's passion might sometimes threaten to get the better of him, but he could scarcely call himself a man if he wasn't capable of a little patient restraint. Graham doesn't know the meaning of the word. He would enjoy himself all right, but would you?'

  Zoe stared at him, almost too shocked to speak. 'Ian's not like that!'

  Pityingly he shook his head. 'Want to bet? No,' he added sharply, 'you might just be foolish enough to try and prove me wrong. Just let my words penetrate the childish crush you have on him, Zoe. Don't throw away your most precious possession on a man who doesn't deserve it.'

  Incensed, she retorted. 'Better that, perhaps, than saving yourself for a man who doesn't want you!'

  Macadam's eyes glinted. 'And who, do you imagine, doesn't want you?'

  Delicate colour rushed to her face. 'I—I was just talking generally.'

  'Well, I'm not.'

  She met his eyes resentfully. 'I don't think you have any right to talk to me like this. You've been insulting.'

  'I'd like to do more than insult you!'

  Aware of his mounting anger, she wasn't surprised at his obvious relief when the dance finished. Yet she was even more conscious of her own disappointment. In spite of the harsh words they had exchanged she felt oddly cheated. She had been looking forward so much to dancing with Macadam, but all he had done was lecture her. Bitterly she mocked herself for having expected anything else.

  Charles Vintis was sitting at their table drinking steadily, his eyes fixed on a voluptuous, lon
e blonde. Zoe wondered what his wife was like, what they had quarrelled about.

  Macadam, after an impatient glance in Zoe's direc­tion, asked Carol to dance. As they took to the floor, Zoe heard Carol laugh, 'Daddy's got his eye on another woman, I'm afraid.'

  So that was the trouble, Zoe thought. Charles Vintis's face was still good-looking but rather weak. As Freddy Vintis swept her away without so much as asking, she was loo curious about his father to object.

  'Is your father unhappy?' she asked, then immediately felt terribly embarrassed. 'I'm sorry,' she apologised, 'I shouldn't have said anything, it's none of my business.'

  Freddy merely laughed. 'Think nothing of it, honey. The old man's affairs aren't exactly a secret, but then his wife's frigid. She's his third wife, of course, no relation of mine. Carol and I get on all right with her, but we understand the old man, too. He has to get his kicks somewhere. The wonder is they're still together.'

  Zoe hesitated uncertainly, not sure how to reply. If she was shocked it was as much with Freddy as his lather. To her it seemed incomprehensible how anyone could speak so frankly and crudely about their parents to a stranger. If she couldn't admire the way in which Charles Vintis apparently lived his life, she found she couldn't admire Freddy much, either.

  'Do you want to hear more?'

  Startled, she shook her head, then saw from his glance that he thought her old-fashioned and it amused him. Sharply she said. 'I do know what goes on, but I don't particularly wish to discuss it. Besides, not everyone's the same.'

  'People in these parts, I suppose, never leave the straight and narrow.'

  'Oh, don't be so silly!' she sighed, feeling suddenly irritated.

  'No,' he laughed. 'Take your Mr Macadam, for in­stance. I bet he's no angel!'

  'I'd rather not talk about him,' Zoe said stiffly.

  'Then just look,' Freddy whispered. 'Just look at him, honey.'

  Involuntarily, as if Freddy's racy way of talking drove her on, Zoe obeyed. Turning her head, she was stunned to see Carol Vintis dancing with Macadam, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her head nestling against his shoulder. As Zoe gazed, Macadam bent to whisper something, and she could have sworn his lips touched Carol's cheek.

  'He's all man, that one, isn't he?' Freddy grinned. 'Trust Carol to find him straight away!'

  Macadam raised his head. Across the space of a few feet, his glance met Zoe's and she dragged her eyes from the open mockery in his. How could he? she wondered bitterly. And how could she defend him when he was so clearly everything Freddy made him out to be!

  When Freddy, suddenly losing interest in his family and Macadam, murmured softly, 'I'm looking for a little sexy diversion myself, honey. How about having dinner with me next week?' she was tempted to agree.

  Fortunately, in time, she came to her senses and refused. 'I'm not sure what I'll be doing. If you like you can give me a ring.'

  She hoped he would forget, or meet someone else before he remembered to. She sensed Freddy's main trouble was boredom and almost suggested he'd be wiser looking for a job, rather than a girl-friend.

  A little later she and Macadam left.

  'Did you enjoy yourself?' he enquired, after a rather silent journey home.

  'As much as I expected to, I suppose,' she replied coldly.

  'Now where have I gone wrong?' he muttered dryly. 'You show a remarkable lack of enthusiasm.'

  That stung her. 'You surely couldn't expect me to be enthusiastic, not after the way you've been behav­ing? Twice, this evening . . .'

  'Wait a minute!' he threw up a furious hand. 'Twice? That sounds interesting, darling. Let's discuss the first time, shall we, and take it from there? You're suggesting I've been making a fool of myself?'

  Glancing at him quickly, she saw his eyes were glinting with anger, and knew she had overstepped the mark. Well, for once she didn't care. How dared he call her darling, with that look in his eyes, and sarcasm dripping off the edge of his tongue? 'I might be,' she spluttered defiantly, getting herself all mixed up. 'The first time was when you looked at Ursula in that ter­rible neglige, as if you'd liked to have eaten her up.'

  That was gross exaggeration, of course, but in situ­ations like this it wasn't easy to find exactly the right words. As she drew a shallow breath, Macadam prompted tightly, 'And the next?'

  Zoe whispered, before her courage failed her, 'The way you were dancing with Carol Vintis. She had her arms around your neck.'

  'Yes,' he said softly, as though the memory of it was pleasant and already dispersing some of his anger, 'she had. And what do you suggest I should have done about it? You didn't like it? Is that what all this fuss is about?'

  'It looked extremely silly!' she answered stiffly.

  'Anything like that often does to other people,' he shot her a coolly mocking glance. 'Haven't you tried it yourself?'

  'No!'

  'Well, you ought to,' he advised. 'I think you'd enjoy it.'

  'What makes you think so?' she asked tautly.

  'I kissed you, remember.' His eyes slipped over her fraught young face. 'I'd say you have definite potential.'

  The hint of amusement in his voice hurt, inciting her to retort coolly, 'Freddy Vintis seems to think so, too.'

  The change in Macadam was imperceptible, but she sensed it. She wasn't surprised when he asked, 'Does that mean he wants you to go out with him?'

  'Yes.'

  'And you refused, of course? I did warn you.'

  'I told him to give me a ring next week.'

  'And when he does, you can tell him you're other­wise engaged.'

  Defiantly, Zoe stared at him, her hands clenched. 'And if I'm not?' .

  'Then I'll make sure you are,' he snapped curtly. 'Even if I have to take you out again myself.'

  She could have hit him for that, with something primitive moving inside her; in fact she almost did. While she hadn't liked the way he had neglected her, this evening, for Carol Vintis, this seemed by far the greater insult. 'I wouldn't dream of putting you to so much trouble!' she cried sharply, as they reached her home.

  'Oh, it wouldn't be all that much trouble,' he drawled, a hint of self-derision in his eyes.

  'Goodnight, Macadam!' she said coldly, jumping out of the car before he could help her and disappearing into the house.

  Her grandparents were in bed, Zoe was relieved. In her bedroom she threw off the long dress she had bought only that afternoon, letting it fall in a silken heap on the floor. She was glad she hadn't allowed Macadam to pay for it, but she wished she could forget how she had felt when he had held her close and his hands had roamed over it restlessly. Impatiently she picked it up, thrusting it carelessly into the bottom of her wardrobe. She didn't think she would ever want to wear it again, but if it was out of sight it might be easier to forget things she would rather not re­member.

  Sunday, which usually passed too quickly, dragged. Alter lunch, despite her intention not to, she went to the boatyard where she often found Macadam at weekends. When he went sailing he frequently took her, not by prior arrangement, but because they both took it for granted that she would go. Today, however, he was nowhere to be seen, and trying to ignore her deep disappointment, Zoe turned away.

  Disconsolately, she wandered back through the town. The weather was cold but bright, the choppy seas would have presented the kind of challenge she and Macadam loved. Across the Firth of Lorn she could see the mountains of Mull and thought nostalg­ically of the miles of untamed ocean. She had other friends whom she could have gone sailing with, but at that moment she could think of no one but Macadam.

  When she reached the office, next morning, the tele­phone was ringing stridently. As she picked it up, panting out the number, Macadam's voice rasped in her ear. 'Where the hell have you been?'

  It was barely eight, but she didn't waste time re-minding him. Instead she asked quickly, 'Where are you?'

  'I'm in bed,' he snapped, as if she was a fool to have asked. 'Where do you think I'd be?'
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  She'd began unbuttoning her coat after her rush upstairs to answer the phone. Now her fingers froze. 'In bed?' She heard her voice rising in panic and con­trolled it. 'What are you doing in bed, Macadam? Have you had an accident?'

  'I couldn't have been worse if I had,' he croaked. 'I've got a cold.'

  'A—cold?' She knew she must sound faintly in-credulous, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't re-member Macadam ever having a cold, or even a day's illness in his life. 'I—I'm sorry,' she stammered as the lengthening silence seemed to call for some expression of sympathy. 'You'll be late, then . . . What time can we expect you?'