Wild and Wanton

by Dorothy Vernon

  ‘I wasn’t that far gone.’

  ‘Weren’t you?’

  ‘No. And it’s horrible of you to suggest that I was.’

  ‘Yes, I agree. Most ungallant. I’m sorry about saying that, but not for the other. I responded to a challenge. You would have despised me if I hadn’t.’ His chiding tone was threaded with exasperation. ‘You’re like a little girl with a bag of goodies that for some reason best known to yourself you feel you mustn’t eat. You wanted me to make love to you. You goaded me to do it, and you enjoyed what I did and wouldn’t have objected if I’d gone further. But something won’t let you admit that. Get yourself sorted out, Lindsay. I find you very lovely and desirable. You’ve found your way under my skin in a way that no other woman ever has before. And I’m more than willing to participate in whatever fantasy you choose, but only on equal terms. I won’t be made a scapegoat for your conscience. Now, I think you’d better go while I’m still reasonably calm about things and in a position to let you.’

  ‘Nick,’ she began.

  ‘Old Nick,’ he said, a demonic grin curving his mouth in a way that struck her as being wickedly attractive. ‘Too old to play games.’

  Lindsay wanted to stay and argue. Bag of goodies, indeed! She wanted to accuse him of talking a load of rubbish. But there was a protesting streak of honesty in her that told her perhaps he wasn’t. And besides, telling her to go while he was able to let her was something else to mull over. Was his control ever in danger of snapping? No! He had been deliberate, saying what he had in a way that insinuated it was straining even his iron will to do so. She licked her suddenly dry lips. He had to be teasing her. But she wasn’t brave enough to contest him in case he wasn’t!

  She swallowed the flippant remark that came to her lips, bid him a hasty goodnight, and got out while the going was good. Once outside, she moved quickly, as if the devil really were at her heels, and didn’t slow down until she reached her own door.

  It was a warm night, but even if that were not the case, she still would have tossed sleeplessly in her bed, bathed in perspiration. The heat she generated came from within; it was her own thwarted desire crying out in anguish. The light weight of her nightgown tormented her flesh with the memory of another touch. Under the delicate cotton material her breasts were swollen, the nipples hard and thrusting as if still held in that large embracing hand. Her mouth burned as if the hard sweet pressure of his was still upon it. Foolishly her lips parted as if to welcome the moist sensuality of his invading tongue. She pressed her face into her pillow, not looking for a substitute, but trying to block out the intensity of feeling, reviling herself for being in such a state, for allowing her emotions to become so hopelessly embroiled with a man so unworthy. The shame in her heart was bad enough. But even worse, because it added to her degradation, was the actual physical ache of deprivation. Her flowering emotions had been nipped in the bud, and it hurt. She had cheated her own body, and in consequence it was punishing her. Nick was right in what he’d said: She had wanted him to make love to her. Not one particle of her mind or body was allowed to escape the torment. Her brain was too active, her limbs too restless, to relax. While low in her stomach . . . it was difficult to define . . . her emotions had contracted into a tight knot, lodging themselves as an aching void that wouldn’t know any peace until . . .

  Chapter Five

  ‘It’s good to see you, Lindsay. I was saying to myself only this morning that I could use some company, and here you are! I must have wished you here,’ Cathy said, her exuberant welcome drawing Lindsay warmly into the house. Phil had described the house as small and cramped, but Cathy and four-year-old Stephanie looked lost in it.

  ‘I should come more often. It’s disgraceful of me.’ In truth, Lindsay had thought that a weekly visit, with phone calls in between, was sufficient to show affectionate concern, but not so much that she would wear out her welcome.

  ‘You’re a very busy lady, and it’s unfair of me to expect more. It’s just that when you’re not working, time hangs so heavily.’

  Frowning at the querulous note in her sister-in-law’s voice, Lindsay said, ‘There’s a remedy for that. Why don’t you get a job?’

  ‘What do I need a job for? I haven’t got masses of cash to throw away like some, but I have enough to make ends meet.’

  ‘I mean for personal fulfillment.’

  ‘Oh, of course.’ A sly little grin came to Cathy’s lips as she played her trump card. ‘Don’t you think I’d love to go out to work, meet people, be in the midst of things again? But there’s Stephanie to consider; she’s so little. If Phil were alive, it would be different. It’s not true what they say. Children don’t forget quickly; at least, Stephanie doesn’t. It’s two years now, and she still misses her father. If I farmed her out on someone so that I could get a job, what would that do to her? Poor little thing, she’s insecure enough as it is.’

  Lindsay didn’t altogether agree with Cathy on this issue. She privately thought that Stephanie wasn’t as sensitive as Cathy believed. Perhaps she did miss having a father. But all Phil was to Stephanie was a photograph in a silver frame; she had been two when he died. What could a child that age remember?

  Since Phil’s death, Cathy had sunk into herself, brushing off the friends she and Phil had known. She claimed that being with them brought back too many painful memories. So why didn’t she go out and make new friends? A job would provide a likely source.

  Cathy and Stephanie were too wrapped up in one another, too possessive and, yes, even a little selfish. Stephanie was fast turning into a spoiled child. Lindsay knew that it wouldn’t help matters any to bribe her way into the child’s affection. But it was natural to want to bring her a little gift at each visit. Still, there was something unattractive about the way Stephanie snatched Lindsay’s purse from her, opening it without first asking permission, to extract the candy she fully expected to be there. Once time had been pressing and the candy store had already closed when Lindsay got there, a circumstance the child received with shrieks and sobs. Instead of chastising the child, Cathy had turned on Lindsay and given her a lecture on the dangers of letting a child down. Something about it destroying faith. Whether this was true or not, Lindsay knew what was happening to a once-sweet little girl. Stephanie was an extremely pretty child, with pale golden hair that curled gracefully round her face and neck. She had plump rosy cheeks and dimples, but the corners of her mouth too often turned down if something didn’t suit her. Lindsay thought that Stephanie sulked out of boredom; the child’s brain needed feeding as well as her stomach. It was frustrating to know this and not be able to do much about it.

  At the moment Stephanie was enthralled with a jigsaw puzzle that Lindsay had brought for her, allowing the two grown-ups to chat over their coffee and cake. But it wasn’t until later, when Stephanie was tucked up in bed and safely out of earshot, that Lindsay asked, ‘Do you ever see much of Greg Hammond these days?’ She tried to inject the right note of casualness into her voice. She hadn’t yet told Cathy about her meeting with Nick Farraday, and she was hoping this would provide her with a gentle opening.

  ‘Not a lot.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that. I’m also sorry if I’m speaking out of turn, but both you and Stephanie need someone. I thought Greg Hammond was taking an interest in you, and that something might come of it.’

  ‘If you must know, he took me out for a meal about, oh, six weeks back, and we had a blazing row. He might be all right if he didn’t have such an inflated opinion of his boss. I don’t hold with a man who paints one man black to make another, his precious Nick Farraday, look purer than pure. Greg told a lot of lies about Phil.’

  ‘What kind of lies?’

  ‘I wasn’t in the mood to hear him out. Phil didn’t do what he said. I know it. It was all the more unjust with Phil not being here to defend himself.’

  There was infinite truth in that. Sighing, Lindsay said, ‘I should tell you that I’ve met Greg Hammond and . . .well . . . I l
iked him.’

  ‘Oh? Where did you meet him?’

  ‘At Nick Farraday’s,’ Lindsay said bravely.

  ‘You are moving in high circles.’

  ‘It was a working assignment. He invited six models into his home to look them over and, hopefully, select one to promote a new product he’s putting on the market.’

  ‘I see. I didn’t think you played nanny to your models.’

  ‘I don’t. I went out of curiosity. I wanted to see what manner of man Phil had worked for. And then Nick Farraday had this silly notion that I would be right for the promotion.’

  Lindsay kept her voice deliberately light, but she was being modest. What had seemed nonsensical at the onset was indeed beginning to look extremely probable. The test she had taken had proved favorable enough for a test commercial to be shot. The other five models had all rallied round to wish her well and tell her that she would be a fool to throw away the chance of a lifetime. She had been touched by the absence of jealousy, especially since she had been half afraid that they would want to scratch her eyes out. She had been bowled over by their genuineness in wishing her luck, had remarked about this to Ami, and then had spent ten minutes or so blushing while the other woman told her of her popularity and went on to assuage her fears that she wouldn’t be any good. Lindsay’s lack of experience was dismissed by Ami out of hand.

  ‘You have a natural grace which will stand you in good stead. Nick Farraday is nobody’s fool. That’s what he will see. Personality that shines from within is what counts. A crash course in deportment will see you through. I’ll help all I can. All of us will,’ Ami had said with assurance.

  How very different Cathy’s reaction was. ‘I hope you sent him away with a flea in his ear,’ she said vengefully.

  ‘I tried to. It’s all so silly. I’m not the right person to promote Allure. It’s the essence of extreme youth and innocence.’

  ‘You’re not exactly in your dotage,’ Cathy observed caustically. ‘Don’t tell me you weren’t the tiniest bit tempted!’

  ‘I wasn’t, but . . .’

  ‘What about your job?’ Cathy asked in horror. ‘You couldn’t leave Jim Bourne in the lurch.’

  ‘I resigned last week. I’m working out my notice.’ The color rising to her cheeks was indicative of her wish that she’d told Cathy the truth sooner. She hadn’t wanted to upset her sister-in-law, but in not speaking out she was appearing to be underhanded and secretive. She had tried to spare Cathy, but it now looked as if she had deliberately set out to keep the news from her.

  ‘So all that you’ve just been giving me is a load of garbage. You’ve already made up your mind to work for Nick Farraday,’ Cathy spat contemptuously.

  ‘No, I haven’t. I decided that I couldn’t go on working for Jim Bourne, which isn’t the same thing at all. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have dreamed it of you. I wouldn’t have suspected you of being a traitor to Phil’s memory. Your own brother!’

  ‘You’ve got it wrong, Cathy. I’ve bent over backward to dislike Nick Farraday.’

  ‘And like all the rest, you find it hard to dislike such an important and wealthy man.’

  Hurt to the quick, needled at the scoffing tone, Lindsay said in gentle reproof, ‘You should know me better than that.’

  ‘I thought I did.’ The reply was accompanied by a harsh, bitter laugh. ‘I’m not condemning you, not really. Good luck to you. Grab what you can in life. I wish I were more able to adopt that attitude.’ Lindsay was still frowning over that remark when Cathy inquired speculatively, ‘Does Nick Farraday know that Phil was your brother?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You omitted to tell him? How interesting! Lindsay dear, you might just be thrown out on your ear when he finds out.’

  ‘Why should that be? Wasn’t Phil the maligned party?’

  ‘Of course!’

  Feeling suddenly very uneasy, Lindsay beseeched, ‘Tell me what happened. Exactly.’

  Cathy looked sulky. ‘I’ve told you. Do we have to go through it all again?’

  ‘I know that Phil took Nick Farraday’s new Rolls out on a joy ride, and that he did so because he was bitter about being wrongfully dismissed. And that he’d had too much to drink.’

  ‘Phil wouldn’t have taken Nick Farraday’s car out in the first place if he hadn’t been under the influence,’ Cathy defended. ‘He was drowning his sorrows, and who could blame him for that.’

  ‘Oh, Cathy,’ Lindsay despaired softly. ‘It caused his death, because he got into a tough spot and crashed.’

  ‘I’ll always hold that man responsible. It should have been Nick Farraday who met his death, not Phil.’

  ‘You’re upsetting yourself, Cathy. Please don’t.’

  ‘I’m not upsetting myself. You’re upsetting me by opening up old wounds.’

  There was so much that Lindsay would have liked to ask. The nature of the lies Greg Hammond had told about Phil came high on that list. She wouldn’t have thought that Greg Hammond was the type of person to lie; he had struck her as being straightforward and honest. But then again, a misguided truth—a warped truth when the bias was in someone else’s favor—could sometimes seem as vicious as a lie.

  If only she had been there to judge for herself. If only she’d moved to London sooner, She knew that Phil had set Nick Farraday on a pedestal. That had been apparent from his letters and the long talks they’d had on the rare occasions when he’d managed a visit home. She didn’t think it was an exaggeration on Cathy’s part when she said that Phil had admired Nick Farraday to the point of emulating him. Lindsay herself wanted to think better of Nick Farraday, so she was desperately trying to see him through clearer eyes. She didn’t want to feel an unfair bias in either man’s favor. But, worshipping Nick Farraday as he had, how could her brother have done anything to justify his instant dismissal?

  Lindsay realized that it boiled down to a question of conscience. Irrespective of whether she could make a success of promoting Allure, she wouldn’t be happy to do so while her thoughts were so burdened.

  And yet the situation was no longer quite so cut-and-dried in her mind. She was seeing even Cathy in a new light. Cathy’s grief at the time of Phil’s death and during the subsequent period of mourning had been a sure sign of her deep devotion. The bitterness she felt toward Nick Farraday had been natural under the circumstances, but after a time it should have been allowed to fade. It was unhealthy to let the ill-feeling carry on for this length of time. If Cathy didn’t do something to correct the situation, it was going to spoil not only her own life, but the lives of those near and dear to her, including Stephanie. And Phil wouldn’t have wanted that. Never had Lindsay known anyone with a greater zest for life than her fun-loving brother. He had made bold decisions, and he hadn’t missed a single opportunity at grabbing his happiness. He wouldn’t want his memory to blight someone else’s future.

  If Phil were at Lindsay’s side now, he would be reminding her that lost opportunities couldn’t always be reclaimed and urging her to take everything that life had to offer. She knew that if she let this chance to get out of her present rut slip, it wouldn’t be in honor of Phil’s memory, but for Cathy’s benefit. Even though she felt that Cathy was in some way wrong, the bonds of loyalty were still strong. Even though she didn’t fully share Cathy’s attitude, she couldn’t just shrug it off and selfishly follow her own course.

  It wasn’t a very successful visit, and it left Lindsay feeling more confused and troubled than before she had come.

  In thinking about it later, she realized that in her search for an ally she need look no further than Nick’s grandmother. That indomitable old lady had been opposed to the idea of Lindsay’s being the Allure girl from the beginning and would surely help her get free.

  She didn’t know Nick’s home phone number. She supposed she could phone his office and ask for it, but that in turn would raise other difficulties, because she would have to disclose her
identity. Nick’s private number wasn’t given to all and sundry.

  She supposed she could just turn up and ask to see Luisa, who had, after all, asked her to visit again. Luisa was an old lady. Was it fair to involve her? But she was involved!

  Lindsay still wasn’t at all sure that she was doing the right thing when, at the Delmar building, a man in uniform, whom she suspected was some kind of security official, asked her to wait a moment while he rang through for clearance.

  ‘You can go up,’ he said on his return, conducting her to the penthouse elevator. As he unlocked it and saw her inside, he inquired, ‘You know the way?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ She hadn’t really expected him to go up with her and hold her hand, had she? Goodness, what was the matter with her, then? She was scared, that was what!

  Some, if not all, of her trepidation fell away at the wide smile of pleasure on Luisa Delmar’s face. She greeted Lindsay warmly. ‘My dear, how lovely!’ Something wicked twinkled in the pale blueness of her eyes. ‘I could lie and say what a delightful surprise.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘Delightful to see you, yes. A surprise, no. I’ve been expecting you. What kept you so long? Will you have tea—or coffee?’

  ‘Whichever you prefer.’

  ‘You must be more decisive, child. You must speak up for what you want in this world, or you won’t get it.’

  ‘You don’t always get what you want when you do voice it loud and clear, either,’ Lindsay said wryly, bringing a smile to Luisa Delmar’s mouth. ‘Tea, please,’ she said very decisively.

  Luisa Delmar gave the instruction to a hovering maid. The tray arrived a short time later and the girl was waved away. ‘That’s all, Marie. My guest will look after me. Left to myself, I end up with more in the saucer than in the cup,’ she explained to Lindsay. ‘No sugar, dear, and very little milk.’

  Pouring the tea gave Lindsay something to do with her hands. She made sure the level of the tea in the cup was not too high for the rheumatic fingers to manage.