A Durable Fire

by Robyn Donald

  Slowly, because she didn’t want to arouse his predatory instincts by her resistance, she pulled free, ignoring the sweet torment of his hands on her skin. Surprisingly he let her, only the harsh breathing revealing the depth of his desire. Beneath his brows the colourless glitter of his eyes burned, watching as she pulled the sulu tight about her, tucking it in. Her mouth throbbed, her body reproached her with a witless frustration, but she called on her reserves of will-power and pride.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said at last, looking at him.

  ‘Why not?’

  After a moment’s hesitation she gave him the truth.

  ‘Like most people I’m not particularly well equipped to deal with rejection. You may have forgotten how you behaved the last time I offered myself to you. I haven’t.’

  His anger was a tangible thing, but like her, he made some effort to control it. ‘And if I said I have no intention of rejecting you?’

  ‘Never?’ she asked with a wise, wry smile. At the quick shake of his head she elaborated, ‘Are you proposing, Kyle?’

  His mouth pulled back to reveal his teeth. ‘Marriage? I wouldn’t marry you—’ then he fell silent at her twisted smile.

  ‘No,’ she said even more wryly. ‘I know. Well, believe it or not, Kyle, and I don’t care much either way, I’m not in the market for a quick affair—or even a long distance affair. Five years has given me a little more self-control—and sharpened my instincts of self-preservation. You did your best to break me once; it’s not going to happen again.’

  ‘You think not?’ He didn’t touch her, but his voice, deeply sensual, reached out and caressed her. ‘And if I told you that breaking you is the last thing I want to do? What then?’

  ‘Why,’ she said, ‘I shouldn’t believe you, Kyle.’

  All the way along the beach she felt the impact of his gaze, so tangible that the hairs on the back of her neck lifted as though she was in great danger.

  As she probably was. Both of them knew that the boundary between acceptance and rejection was a very narrow, easily straddled one. If he had made love to her a little longer she might have objected but she would not have been able to hold out against the wild fever in her blood.

  The reverse was also true, which made her wonder why he had let her go. She had felt the urgency of his desire, his blind need to lose himself in the silken sheath of her body, yet he had accepted her refusal.

  When after a restless few hours she woke the next morning she knew why. Kyle wanted her willing, lost and subjugated so that his mastery was complete. And she lay for long minutes with her face pressed into the pillow while she moaned at the fate that had organised this unbearable coincidence.

  However, her days of running were over. Never again was she going to turn her back on any situation because she thought she couldn’t bear it. Living with Dan, watching his gallant fight against the inevitable deterioration of his body, had taught her that each person possesses the strength to face the worst life can throw their way.

  She would not give Kyle the pleasure of knowing that she was defeated by the almost intolerable demands of her hungry heart. He knew, of course, how she was torn between her need of him and her self-respect; she could see an identical struggle taking place in him. The mere sight of him, his big, well-balanced body, the cutting line of his profile, the smooth bronze gleam of his proud head, was beautiful and dangerous to her. When his eyes rested broodingly on her, deep within their pale depths was a savage, self-derisory craving.

  It was impossible to avoid him. As the hot, peaceful days drifted drowsily by they met all the time, down on the beach, riding, snorkelling; Helen gave a tennis party and Arminel ended up playing in a mixed doubles against Kyle and one of the McLauchlan girls, and being soundly trounced.

  ‘Sorry,’ said her partner cheerfully as he wiped his dripping brow on his sleeve. ‘Hell, it’s hot, isn’t it! What on earth are we doing exhausting ourselves like this?’

  ‘We’re mad,’ she agreed, trying to smile as she felt Kyle’s hand close around hers in the traditional handshake. She made no effort to avoid his gaze, although a spark gleamed in hers at the mocking smile he gave. He had enjoyed beating her; well, if it appeased his ego, why not? she thought, and her mouth quirked.

  Retribution was swift. As they walked off the court he dropped an arm about her shoulders, letting it lie heavily and possessively. If she tried to wriggle free he would keep her there, by force if necessary. She could feel the purpose emanating from him and tried her best to look as though it was merely a casual gesture. She might have carried it off, too, in spite of the inordinately interested glances from everyone else, if he hadn’t pulled her head back and dropped a kiss on her brow.

  Her eyes glared up at him, baffled and angry, as he said loudly enough to make sure everyone heard it, ‘Never mind, darling. Better luck next time.’

  ‘Better partner,’ her partner said generously, helping himself to a long glass of something which tinkled with ice. ‘Arminel deserves to play with someone like you, Kyle.’

  ‘So I’ve been trying to convince her,’ Kyle returned outrageously, and only Arminel could read the cold amusement in his eyes.

  Thank heavens for children! Felice, totally ignoring the stunned silence that followed, positioned herself in front of him and said sturdily, ‘I want a cuddle, too,’ which got a general laugh and more or less forced Kyle to pick her up. But Felice wasn’t satisfied with that. ‘Mummy too,’ she said imperiously, and to Arminel’s horror Kyle pulled her close and the three of them were held together by her daughter’s strong brown arms.

  ‘Very touching,’ Helen observed thoughtfully when Arminel had managed to break the clinch without too much fuss. ‘You know, Arminel, you should be thinking about a father for her. Children need fathers.’

  ‘Possibly.’ The asperity in Arminel’s voice was not hidden. ‘But I don’t need a husband.’

  Helen looked pensive. ‘You do, really. All women do. Oh, I know you pad out your time with your university things and good works, but it’s all just a fill-in, isn’t it?’

  How to explain to her that although the charity work was an obligation the papers Arminel was doing at university were exciting and stimulating? Helen had been brought up with only one aim in life, to marry well and be a good wife, and she was happy and contented in fulfilling that destiny. Feminism she viewed not-so much with opposition as with a total lack of comprehension. A busy social life, her three sons, her husband, possibly in that order, filled her days so that she asked for nothing more.

  It would be useless to try and convince her that Arminel’s social life was a duty, most of it connected with the charities she supported. Except for a few close friends she held herself a little aloof from many who would gladly have befriended her. Dan had encouraged her to try for a degree, his confidence in her overcoming the diffidence she had felt. He had enjoyed being her mentor.

  Now she said slowly, ‘Not really. I’m not like you, Helen.’

  ‘No,’ Helen agreed.

  Arminel hid a sad smile. She knew that Helen, like many people, wondered at her motives for marrying Dan. Those who knew her had come to realise, as Helen had, that the simplest explanation was not correct, but none of them knew the reason. Helen thought she was frigid, that all the warmth in her character was maternal, and she would probably be astounded and horrified if she knew just how wrong she was.

  Back at home Karen asked shrewdly, ‘Is Kyle trying to put the hard word on you?’

  Arminel smiled, a masterpiece of irony. ‘No, that was a little punishment.’

  ‘You know each other really well, don’t you?’ Karen wrinkled her nose at Arminel’s enquiring look. ‘I’m not trying to be nosey—well, perhaps I am, but I know you, and you’ve changed since he appeared on the scene.’

  ‘Oh, come on, now. . .’

  ‘You needn’t tell me anything if you don’t want to, I’m not prying, but—well, if there’s anything I can do.’ Karen looked down at the length o
f her legs, brown and glistening with sunscreen. ‘Since you came back from New Zealand you’ve hidden yourself behind a mask. It’s been so long now that it’s almost part of you, but I knew you before you put it on, and I’ve often wondered why it was necessary. Now I know. It was Kyle, wasn’t it? He was the reason why it didn’t work out with his brother.’

  ‘Rhys.’ Arminel turned her head away. ‘Yes, he was the reason.’

  ‘Well, what does he want now?’

  ‘Whatever it is he’s not getting it,’ Arminel said flatly. ‘What happened five years ago is dead and buried and I’m not going to resurrect it.’

  Karen snorted in disbelief. ‘Oh, sure! Dead and buried, indeed! Whenever I get between you two I feel as though I’m being zapped with laser beams or rays of some sort! The air fairly hisses between you, yet you say you don’t want to resurrect anything. Face facts, Arminel, it doesn’t need resurrecting, it never died, it’s just been hiding behind the door.’

  Arminel shrugged. ‘I can’t help that.’

  ‘Felice likes him, and you know it’s not everyone she takes to. Why don’t you give him a chance? He is,’ she went on, ‘the most exciting man I’ve ever met. Those eyes! And that smile, so knowledgeable, with a tiny hint of cruelty. You know, Arminel, he’s the sort of man you trust implicitly.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  Karen laughed at the dry cynicism of her friend’s voice. ‘No, not with women, though I’ll bet he’s totally trustworthy with someone else’s woman. Why, what— oh!’ She was silent, her brain working overtime as she stared at Arminel’s suddenly white face. ‘Oh,’ she repeated. ‘He was not, I gather. Yes, I see.’

  Arminel met her gaze unflinchingly. Karen was not an intellectual, but a sharp brain combined with a profound interest in humankind made her uncommonly far-sighted where people were concerned.

  ‘Yes, I think I see,’ she said now, and unexpectedly, ‘Poor Arminel! And poor Kyle. People of immense integrity are very hard to handle when they breach that integrity. They don’t forgive easily, not themselves and not the cause of their fall, either. They’re a bit puritan in their consciences.’

  ‘You’re very quick,’ Arminel said, her voice rather shaky.

  ‘A pity,’ Karen sighed. ‘Because you and he would be good together. He has the kind of strength you need in a man and you wouldn’t let him ride roughshod over you. A docile, clinging wife would bore him out of his skull, and you need someone who doesn’t worship you for your looks and forget that there’s a woman beneath them.’

  Oh, Kyle had never forgotten the woman! But then he had never worshipped at the shrine of her beauty, either. The attraction between them had been instantaneous and volcanic, a conflagration which had finally overwhelmed them both, but it was more than solely physical. Somehow they matched each other. But their mutual attraction was doomed by that puritan conscience clever Karen had discerned. And by their stiff-necked pride. And by the fact that she was ruled by her fear of his inevitable rejection. She was not going to suffer again the aching desolation that had driven her into Dan’s arms.

  Better by far to refuse him.

  ‘There’s no future for us,’ she said, her voice tight with determination. ‘So let’s leave it, shall we? By the way, isn’t Sean Lambert rather interested?’

  Karen’s tan assumed a rosy hue. ‘Sean Lambert,’ she parried loftily, ‘thinks he only has to whistle and any girl will come running.’

  ‘Well! Seeing that he wangled an invitation especially to be here at the same time—’

  ‘Oh, don’t!’ The younger woman jumped hastily to her feet, running her hands down the side of her dress as though her palms were suddenly sticky. ‘He’s got a nerve, chasing me all the way over here when he knows I—when I—’

  ‘When he knows you’re in love with him?’

  Poor Karen’s face crumpled. ‘I’ll get over it.’

  ‘But why? And don’t try telling me he doesn’t return your feelings. He dotes, and you know it.’

  ‘Yes, but it wouldn’t work. His family wouldn’t like it.’

  Arminel lifted fine brows. ‘Why?’

  ‘A, because they’re nicely rich and I’ve got nothing. B, because they’re heavily into the social whirl and I’m an orphan, no background, no nothing. C, because he’s a clever man and I’m just your average girl, earning my own living at a not too difficult job.’

  Arminel sighed. ‘I know how you feel,’ she said sympathetically, ‘but you’re too self-conscious. His parents started off with nothing, you know. Every cent they’ve got they earned. The social whirl you’re so frightened of is just their way of having fun. And they must be the least snobbish couple I know. Your background or lack of it means nothing, as you’re well aware. As for Sean’s brains—he doesn’t want a university graduate, twit. He wants you, native cunning and kind heart and all.’

  ‘He’s so conceited!’

  Arminel laughed, head flung back on to the cane chair, the rich warm sound lazy on the lazy air. ‘So, take him down a peg or two, but don’t try to fool me or yourself. He might be a little spoilt because he’s good-looking and nice and things have always come easily to him, but he’s not conceited.’

  ‘You’re awfully wise about other people’s affairs,’ Karen told her waspishly. ‘Why don’t you use some of that wisdom on yourself? The life you lead is not natural and you know it. It’s just not normal to ignore men the way you do. You’re a warm, loving, interesting human being, but you’re afraid to come out from behind the prison bars you’ve made for yourself. What you need is someone who won’t take no for an answer, someone you can’t freeze off. Perhaps he might be able to help you rejoin the human race.’

  ‘Any ideas as to who that might be?’

  Karen swung around, her round pretty face dismayed at the question which had been posed in Kyle’s most cynical voice.

  ‘Oh, hell!’ she muttered, carefully refraining from looking at Arminel’s still, white countenance.

  ‘Sorry.’ But he didn’t look in the least sorry. The pale glance searched smilingly over Karen’s horrified expression as he said lightly, ‘Don’t look so appalled. I’m sure Arminel won’t sack you for a bit of plain speaking.’

  ‘Well, of course not.’ Karen actually bristled, staring accusingly at him.

  From somewhere Arminel found the strength to stand up. Hoping desperately that her composure was returning, she said with a cool lack of concern, ‘Haven’t you ever heard of knocking, Kyle? You could have been caught in some pretty nasty crossfire; Karen and I usually end up throwing things when we quarrel.’

  A gleam of something like admiration glittered for a moment beneath the thick lashes as he swung towards her. ‘I did try to raise someone, but you were too busy shouting to hear me. Shall I go out and try again?’

  She laughed. ‘No, don’t be silly. Would you like a drink?’

  ‘Something long and cold and non-alcoholic,’ he said promptly, apparently content to take his cue from her.

  As she poured him some of the fruit punch which Asena made up in gallons each morning she reaffirmed her decision to treat him with no more than the courtesy of a good and gracious hostess. And she would just have to hope that as she had made it clear that she didn’t want an affair he would leave her alone.

  No more jaunts in the moonlight, no more emotional confrontations, nothing more than the idle, well-bred common coinage of the social world, cool, polite conversation carefully calculated not to touch any emotion.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Karen thought she was mad, but loyally did her part, refusing to leave them alone, breaking up any conversation after a short time, behaving, in fact, like a good social secretary and an even better friend.

  Of course Kyle was too astute not to realise what was happening. The third or so time that Karen and some man made a laughing foursome with them an ugly gleam in his eyes promised retribution, but he was no longer dealing with young, silly Arminel Lovett. Mrs Dan Evans was a different kettle of
fish, poised, with an adroitness at avoiding embarrassing social situations which had been gained through five years. She flirted cheerfully and meaninglessly with Garth, who quoted Shakespeare at her and knew exactly what her attention was worth. Married and divorced twice, he was not looking for another wife, being far too enamoured of his freedom, but Arminel Evans was beautiful enough to stir anyone’s blood and it flattered his ego to be the one she laughed with, even if she was, he decided, like so many exquisite women, basically in love with her looks and so frigid.

  Arminel was quite happy with this reading of her character. He and Felice got on well enough together to make things pleasant, although, true to her stubborn character, Felice obstinately preferred Kyle and made it quite clear that this was so.

  They sailed on the turquoise waters of the bay, water-skiied and introduced Garth to wind-surfing.

  ‘It’s just a knack,’ Arminel told him as he viewed the wind-surfer with faint dismay. ‘If you can sail you can do it. All you have to remember is that you steer by tilting the mast. You grab the boom and push it forward, it heads off the wind, pulled aft it goes into the wind.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all, is it?’ said Garth, hands on hips as she showed him. ‘O.K., dear heart, you demonstrate.’

  Arminel loved wind-surfing. The thrill of gliding over the sea like a flying fish, the silence and freedom of it exhilarated her. So she grinned at him and pushed off, catching the wind almost immediately, legs braced as she concentrated on getting the utmost from the apparatus. Like a sea-bird she swooped across the still waters of the bay, capturing the essence of the wind and the sea. The sun beat down, dazzling even beneath the dark lenses she wore to protect her eyes, wanning skin that was shining with sun-block and spray. Apart from the steady crashing of the waves on the reef it was quiet, although she could hear Felice’s high-pitched squeals. For a moment her heart lifted; she almost felt as though life was worth living again.