Storm Cycle

by Margaret Pargeter

  'You're despicable!' she gasped, staring at him, her green eyes wide with alarm. Her heart beating wildly, she wondered what she would do if he dragged her down to him. She had never been in bed with a man before, and, as her eyes fell on Macadam's long, powerful body, she was suddenly able only to feel, not think. Stunned, her glance wandered over his dark, inscrutable face. Why had she never noticed what a sensuous mouth he had? Previously she had merely seen the way it straightened tightly when he was annoyed. Now she noticed the bottom lip was quite full, the top one thinner but curved. It revealed a man of fairly strong passions, who might one day be at the mercy of them. She shuddered to think of the girl he might be with if that happened, and for no reason she could think of she felt her lips part warmly under his, although he was doing nothing more than grasp her

  hand.

  As though he no longer cared for the touch of her, he flung her hand away. 'It's funny,' he sneered, 'very funny indeed, how you defend Graham's right to kiss you like a virago yet denounce any similar aspirations on my part in no uncertain fashion. God knows I have no wish to kiss you again, but it has proved, if nothing else, to be an interesting exercise.'

  His curt, crisp words effectively brought Zoe to her senses. Had he put his arms round her, she realised, she might not have been able to resist him. As it was, the open scorn on his face made her fully aware of what she was inviting.

  'I was only trying to tidy your bed,' she choked, 'not get into it!'

  'How kind,' he replied nastily. 'Remind me to pay you a little extra this week, for all the trouble you've gone to.'

  She could cheerfully have hit him, as she had been tempted to on several occasions lately, but his de­risiveness did revive her slipping composure. 'Sometimes I hate you, Macadam!' she cried, almost running from the room.

  When the letters were finished, in a neatly typed pile, she placed them on a tray along with two mugs of hot soup and a plate of warm, crusty bread. She then made coffee and put it in a large flask to keep hot. Glancing around the pleasant kitchen, she felt like having her lunch down here, in peace, but somehow the thought of Macadam in his huge, lonely bedroom made her decide to risk his jibes and temper and keep him company.

  He enjoyed the soup but could only manage one small piece of bread. He had two cups of coffee, though, and she thought he looked a little better. He signed the letters, then lay gazing at her drowsily. Judging him to be almost asleep, Zoe prepared to leave, and was startled when he spoke to her.

  'You'll have to look in at tea-time. I'll probably have something else for you to do.'

  Zoe nodded. She had been going to, anyway, but he needn't know that now.

  'Meanwhile,' he went on, as if he didn't intend she should go back to the office to twiddle her thumbs, 'don't forget to ring Pentlands and see what's happened to that order we sent in, and you'd better tell Ian to get over to Dalmally and see old Major Campbell about that boat of his. He's neglected it so long it's beyond repair, I'm afraid. It's nothing but a bucket of rust.'

  'Couldn't he ring the Major up?' Zoe asked. 'It's a long way to Dalmally.'

  'It will keep him out of mischief,' said Macadam enigmatically. 'And if he isn't pleased about it, you can soften the blow by mentioning that I want him to go to Mexico on Thursday instead of me. I won't be lit enough.'

  'Not fit enough?' she repeated in astonishment.

  'Don't stare at me like that!' he snapped. 'I may not look at death's door, but I feel pretty rotten and I know when I'm beaten.'

  'It would be the first time! Zoe blinked disbelievingly, as relieved as she was surprised that Macadam was prepared to be sensible at last. He had the 'flu and although, as he said, he might not look too bad, it was very weakening. It was a good thing he had realised in lime. In the past he had always ignored the least sign of weakness in himself. If ever she had, on rare occas­ions, questioned his fitness to travel, he had dismissed her anxiety brusquely and gone ahead with his plans.

  'It's rather important, though, isn't it, this trip?' she linked doubtfully. 'Do you think Ian can manage?'

  'I'd like to know why not,' he said coldly. 'Hasn't he more letters after his name than I have, and a tongue,' he added, with a sour glance, 'which impresses most people. We had no complaints when he went to France last year, and the French are among the best yachtsmen in the world.'

  'I still believe,' she began, 'that it might be wiser to wait until you can go yourself. After all, Mexico isn't France . . .'

  'Don't worry,' he cut in, obviously believing she was concerned for Ian's safety, 'he won't come to any harm and he should scarcely be gone a week.'

  When she broke the news to Ian he was jubilant. 'Say that again!' His face broke into incredulous smiles. After she did he was still incredulous. 'To be perfectly honest, I never thought he'd ever give me a chance like this. You're sure whatever he's got hasn't affected his head?'

  Zoe refused to be amused. 'He seems to have faith in you.' She looked at Ian sternly. 'Just make sure you justify it and don't do anything between now and Thursday to make him change his mind.'

  Ian didn't. He worked hard on the new design and, as if he sensed Macadam's continuing approbation? might in some way be bound up with his attitude to-wards Zoe, he made no attempt to kiss her again. He only asked if she would have dinner with him when he came back. 'If the trip is successful, that is,' he added wryly.

  'Well, if it is, we'll certainly have something to cele­brate,' Zoe laughed, promising she would, without giving the matter much thought.

  On Thursday, after Ian had gone and Macadam was back in the office, the rest of the week passed slowly. She was surprised to find she missed Ian's cheerful presence, especially when Macadam was out a lot Macadam seemed to have recovered from his illness very quickly, although he was still rather pale and drawn.

  'Wouldn't it be more sensible if you finished earlier until you've completely recovered your strength?' she suggested, as she put on her coat on on the Friday evening. It was after six and he showed no sign of leaving.

  'I may as well stay here as go home to an empty house,' he replied curtly, without looking up.

  Staring at his bent head, Zoe wished she could do something to alleviate his loneliness, for he must often feel lonely in that big house on his own. He had friends, but there were times when one needed something more.

  'You wouldn't . . . that is . . .'she stammered, and hesitated, her small face flushed from the idea which had just crossed her mind.

  'Zoe!' he exclaimed irritably, focussing his attention on her at last, 'will you stop hopping from one leg to the other like a startled stork and get out of here, please?'

  Controlling her own quick temper, she smiled at him, albeit nervously. 'I was just going to ask if you'd cure to come home with me, Macadam. Gran is making one of her special steak and kidney puddings. I know it might sound a bit much after you've been ill, but honestly, they're as light as a feather, and she always makes too much, because she says she can't make a proper one unless she has a good piece of steak.'

  Zoe was quite breathless by the time she had hnished, but heard herself adding for good measure, It's either that or you go home to an empty house, and no supper!'

  'Or I could give Miss Vintis a ring and dine out at one of the big hotels.'

  Her face paling, Zoe turned away from his mocking glance. Humiliating tears stung her eyes so she could scarcely see. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered, 'it was silly of me to suggest it. Goodnight.'

  Before she had taken two steps Macadam caught up with her. 'Zoe,' he said huskily, 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean that.' Putting his hands on her shoulders, he gently turned her round, grimly noting the tears on her cheeks. 'Forgive me,' he exclaimed gravely, suddenly pulling her to him. 'Of course I'd love to accept your invitation. Sometimes I get tired, you don't know how tired, of my solitary meals and my own company. If you're sure your grandmother won't mind?'

  Zoe shook her head. 'I told her you'd been ill, but even if you hadn't been you know she alwa
ys loves to see you.'

  'Which is more than you do.'

  Scrubbing at her eyes, Zoe buried her head against Macadam's broad chest, then pulled firmly away from him before he could feel the way her heart was beating wildly. 'I'm usually pleased to see you,' she murmured sedately, without looking at him. Why had she said that—and so coldly, when she knew the days she didn't see him were curiously meaningless.

  'Zoe —' he began suddenly, then paused, as though

  the impulse to speak of something had passed. 'Oh, nothing,' he said curtly, beginning to tidy his desk, pushing a set of keys towards her as she glanced at him expectantly, 'Run down and wait in the car, I'll be with you in a few minutes.'

  Her grandparents' house wasn't very fine. It had belonged to Taggart's father, and while he had managed to enlarge it a little and kept it in good order it was nowhere near the size of Macadam's.

  Nevertheless, Zoe saw with a warm rush of pride that it was comfortable and reasonably well furnished. It contained three bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs and on the ground floor a large kitchen-dining-room and a cosy lounge on the other side of the small hall. When they arrived Taggart was reading in the lounge while Janet was busy in the kitchen. She glanced around, her pleasant face beaming with delight when she saw who Zoe had with her.

  'Why, come away in; Mr Macadam,' she said in her soft voice, as Zoe explained briefly. 'You're very wel­come.'

  'Zoe insisted,' he smiled wryly. 'I hope I won't be too much trouble?'

  'Of course not,' Janet laughed, adding more soberly, 'She was telling us, only this morning, how ill you've been, and I hope you're feeling better.' When he nodded she suggested, 'Why don't you join Taggart in the lounge while Zoe freshens up and helps me in here?'

  Half an hour later they were all sitting round Janet's polished oak table enjoying a delicious meal. Taggart and Macadam, for once, weren't arguing. All his life Taggart had been a voracious reader, loving all manner of books. Macadam, it appeared, had only just dis­covered this, and since he was no mean student of literature himself, they were soon deep in discussion, tt might not last but, while it did, Zoe almost basked in the relaxed atmosphere and felt very happy.

  It wasn't until much later in the evening, when they were drinking huge cups of tea before a blazing fire in (he lounge, that a hint of the old familiar tension crept in. As Macadam complimented Janet on her mouth­watering home-made biscuits, she asked innocently how he had managed when he was ill.

  'Zoe kept popping in and out,' he smiled. 'She looked after me very well indeed.'

  Taggart frowned, exclaiming, before Zoe could intercede, 'You mean you were up there together alone?'

  'I was ill,' Macadem looked at the old man, his eyes hardening. 'And even if I hadn't been, what harm would I have done her?'

  'I'll? Huh!' Taggart's loud exclamation spoke volumes more than a mere couple of words. He might well have said, when did that ever stop you? That he was quiet merely proved he considered Macadam a guest in his house and therefore common courtesy demanded some degree of reticence. The smouldering darkness in his eyes, however, indicated that Macadam hadn't heard the last of it, and with a sigh Macadam rose to his feet.

  'I'll see you in the morning, Zoe,' he said, after thanking Taggart and Janet for their hospitality.

  'I'll see you out,' she smiled at him deliberately, ignoring her grandfather's protests that he would do so himself.

  'What is this?' Macadam glanced at her enquiringly with a mocking glint in his eye, as she marched with him to the door. 'Don't say you're ready to defy him at last—and over me?'

  Stubbornly she shook her head, keeping her own eyes averted from his handsome face. 'It's not a case of you and me, and you know it.'

  'Something's been badly missing in your education, my child,' he drawled. 'Weren't you ever taught to read between the lines?'

  When Macadam talked in riddles she couldn't follov him. If she did work out what he was on about the answer seldom pleased her, so this time she didn't eve bother. Instead she answered coolly, 'I'm glad you enjoyed your meal, if nothing else.'

  His dark brows rose at her sharp little remark and as if to punish her for it, he grinned cynically. 'I certainly did. In fact so much that I'm tempted to justify Taggart's worst suspicions and round off an extremely pleasant evening in the accepted fashion.' Before she could move she was a helpless captive, with the bruisingforce of his kiss bending her head back until she feared her neck would snap. Then, as the heat from his skin seemed to burn hers, he was pushing her away, muttering something derisively.

  As she stared at him in a daze, pressing white knuckles against swollen lips, he turned to leave her, adding even more mockingly, 'Goodnight, Zoe. Thanks again.'

  The following Thursday Ian returned with a full order book. All, apart from one of the people he had seen, had placed orders, and this man who lived in Mexico City had demanded to see Mr Macadam him­self.

  Macadam, apparently well satisfied with Ian's endeavours, gave him the weekend off to visit his family. Ian thanked him and said he would go the next morning. That evening he was taking Zoe out to dinner.

  Zoe didn't really want to go, but suddenly she felt she had to convince herself there were other men in the world besides Macadam. It was important he realised she thought so, too. Since the night he had dined at her grandparents' house, he had practically ignored her. And whenever she recalled the way he had kissed her, she squirmed with humiliation. She must do her utmost to convince him she attached no importance to such an incident. Therefore she made no secret of the fact that she was looking forward greatly to dining with Ian.

  Ian left early the following day, and Macadam made no comment when Zoe described the evening she had spent with him in glowing if slightly exaggerated terms. He maintained a stony silence throughout. Not until her forced enthusiasm came to a rather stumbling halt through lack of encouragement did he point out coldly that if Graham believed he had something to celebrate, it might have been more appropriate if hehad asked some of the other staff along as well. They all worked as a team and he didn't like anyone forget­ting it.

  Feeling suitably chastised, Zoe found it difficult to concentrate for the remainder of the afternoon, and was secretly glad it was Friday. Macadam rapped out orders, one after the other, until she was almost ex­hausted trying to keep up with him, and, when she dared snatch a few minutes to pop out and see how Donald was getting on with the new sloop he was building for a wealthy customer, he came after her, ordering her back to the office so furiously that not even Donald, an employee of long and valued standing, dared intervene.

  Before leaving for home that evening, she asked ten­tatively if he was going sailing on Sunday. He replied curtly, 'Yes, but alone.'

  'Why alone?'

  'Because I choose to.'

  'I wouldn't mind going.' Zoe swallowed her pride, not quite prepared to beg but almost. 'You usually take me.'

  'I'm not taking you this time, Zoe.'

  Her green eyes widened with bitter despair. 'I sup-pose you've invited someone else?'

  His gaze went over her in a slow, sweeping scrutiny and his mouth was grim. 'No to that, as well,' he returned shortly. 'And, before I do something I might regret, will you please get out of my sight. Anyway,' he eyed her pale face with what sounded very like a sigh of terse frustration, 'the weather promises to be rough.'

  Fear caught her sharply by the throat. 'Then you might need help.'

  'Zoe!'

  She didn't have to be told twice when Macadam used' those tones, but she went unwillingly. It was the firsttime Macadam had actually refused to let her go with him. Of course he did sail on his own, and with other people. She didn't expect or want to go everywhere, but it was the first time she had asked and been refused, without a reasonable explanation. He knew a little weather never put her off, just as he was uware of what they could achieve together, against anything the skies chose to throw down. No, it had to be he didn't want her any more, and her heart ached du
lly.

  On Saturday she helped about the house and did some shopping for Janet and listened to Taggart's growls with only half an ear. She found she was unable to stop thinking of Macadam, her mood fluctuating painfully between anger and despondency. His rejec­tion of her hurt more than she cared to admit, but there seemed nothing she could do about it. Eventually, to escape her own thoughts, she went for a walk along the sea front, watching the occasional lone yacht out in the bay and the big MacBrayne steamers coming in. Afterwards, on the High Street, she bumped into Freddy Vintis, and while she was talking to him Macadam passed them. He didn't stop. He merely glanced at them keenly and raised his hand in silent acknowledgement.

  'What's the matter with him?' Freddy asked. 'He doesn't seem any too sociable. I wanted a word with him.'