Carole Mortimer - The Flame of Desire

by Carole Mortimer

She shrugged. "I don't know, do I? She may have done."

  "She did not," he said with certainty. "I should have realized. You are too calm. I must expect hysterics at least."

  "Then you tell me and let's get the hysterics over with."

  He shook his head. " It is not for me to tell you."

  "You're making all this sound very mysterious, Luke."

  "There is nothing at all mysterious about it, as you will soon find out."

  "How is it that you know this great secret and I don't?" she persisted.

  "Possibly because they are unsure of your reaction."

  "You aren't going to give anything away, are you?" she napped impatiently. "Oh, let's go down and get this over with."

  Luke grasped her arm. "Do not make a scene in front of them."

  She wrenched out of his grasp, glaring at him angrily. 'Don't treat me like a child. I can take whatever it is they're going to tell me." If she could take his affair with Rosemary, then she could take anything.

  He sighed, straightening his cuff. "I hope so."

  Only her father was in the lounge when they entered the loom, pouring them both a drink. "Rosemary should be down in a moment," he informed them, looking rather anxiously at Luke, she thought.

  Really, all this mystery was making her nervous, and her lather looked nervous enough for all of them.

  Rosemary looked stunningly beautiful, the blue chiffon gown exactly matching the color of her eyes, eyes that suddenly seemed to have lost that hardness to them. She went straight to her husband's side, raising her face for his kiss. After an embarrassed glance at Luke and Sophie he complied.

  Sophie hadn't seen such open affection between them for a very long time, and she gave an involuntary start.

  Luke's hard fingers on her arm kept her standing at his side, her look of bewilderment met by one of cool assurance.

  "Can I have a drink, darling?" Rosemary, asked her husband.

  Simon frowned. “Are you sure you should?”

  She pouted at him. "Just a little one won't hurt me."

  "But the doctors said you were to take it easy."

  Doctors, what doctors? Sophie's bewilderment grew. Surely Rosemary wasn't ill. She hoped not. She and Rosemary may have argued in the past, but she was the only mother Sophie had ever known, and she didn't wish her harm.

  "They also said I was to lead as normal a life as possible," Rosemary continued.

  "Yes, but—"

  Rosemary squeezed his arm. "If you really don't want me to, then I won't." She smiled at him gently.

  "Well…perhaps a little one," he conceded. "But you must take care of yourself."

  "Yes, darling." His wife glowed up at him.

  Sophie was thoroughly confused by now. Rosemary was obviously seeing a doctor for some reason, but her father's attitude didn't seem to point to her being ill, at least, not ill as she knew it.

  "Are you unwell, mommy?" She could contain her curiosity no longer.

  "Not exactly." Rosemary looked at her husband. "Simon?" she prompted.

  He gave a sheepish grin. "I feel a little foolish at my age." And he did indeed look very embarrassed. "Rosemary isn't ill, Sophie." He cleared his throat noisily. "The truth of the matter is—well, she—we—"

  "I'm going to have a baby," Rosemary announced proudly.

  CHAPTER NINE

  To SAY SOPHIE WAS TAKEN ABACK was an understatement she was stunned. "But I—I thought you couldn't have children." She had known of the unhappiness Rosemary felt in the beginning of her marriage when year after year she didn't produce the child she had so desperately wanted.

  "There was never any medical reason for it," Rosemary explained gently.

  Sophie licked her suddenly dry lips. "I—I see.''

  "Sophie is naturally a little overwhelmed by all this," Luke put in calmly.

  Her father gave him a grateful smile. "Yes—yes, of course, she is. I—I'm still a bit dazed myself. Rosemary only told me yesterday."

  So that was the reason her1 father had invited them down here for the weekend, even though she had asked him not to. He hadn't wanted to see Luke and herself together at all, but to tell them his news.

  Rosemary was to have a baby! The idea shocked her, she had to admit it, but now she knew the reason for Luke's concern, the reason he had1 thought she would make a scene. Well, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being right.

  She went forward and kissed her stepmother on the cheek. "I'm very pleased for you." Her smile was strained. "Very pleased."

  Rosemary looked at her uncertainly. "Really?"

  "Yes, really." She turned to her father. "You must be so excited."

  "Well…a little," he admitted ruefully. "Although I'm! a bit old to be starting another family."

  Rosemary linked her arm through his. "Of course you're not, you're in the prime of life."

  He grinned down at her. "I thank you for that, but I know it isn't true."

  Their light chatter was giving Sophie time to gather her scattered wits together, time she badly needed. The shock was lessening now, the numb feeling beginning to fade. She couldn't fail to see how this baby was pleasing her parents. They looked the happiest they had for years, and she didn't feel quite so shut out because she had Luke. He had tried to warn her without actually coming straight out and telling her, and she could at least feel grateful to him for that, although his warning had come out as more of a threat.

  Dinner wasn't as bad as she had imagined, her parents seeming to consider they had talked about the coming baby enough. Nevertheless, her excuse of having, a headache at ten-thirty was a genuine one, probably due to the tension she had been under lately.

  She was in bed pretending to be asleep when Luke came into their room fifteen minutes later, and aware of his moving quietly around the room as he prepared for bed. The bed gave slightly as he climbed in beside her, and she waited expectantly for him to turn his back toward her as was his usual practice lately.

  "I know you are not asleep." His voice sounded loud hi the darkness. "Your breathing is much too deep."

  "Quite the detective, aren't you," she said tartly. "Why have you come to bed now? You don't usually retire this early."

  "I could not stay downstairs while my wife came to bed. It would not be polite to do so."

  "It wouldn't have bothered me."

  "I am sure it would not," he said dryly. "But as I said, it would not have been polite."

  "I'm sorry if I've dragged you to bed," she snapped.

  "You never have to drag me to bed," he murmured throatily, turning on his side to look down at her, his fingers trailing down her bare arm. "I am usually only too eager to join you. Tonight is no exception."

  The intimacy in his voice was drugging, her headache long forgotten. "You want to make love to me?" she asked breathlessly.

  "As always," he said throatily.

  "Always, Luke?"

  His lips caressed her throat. "Do you doubt it?"

  She nodded. "Quite often."

  "I cannot make love to you when you make me angry. I could be quite brutal with you if I did that, and so I find it wiser to leave you alone at such times. Unfortunately you often make me angry."

  "I don't mean to."

  "That is part of the trouble. You have no idea when what you do makes me angry."

  Her hands moved but tentatively to touch him, feeling the shudder run through his body. She smoothed his muscular back, her firm uptilted breasts against the roughness of his chest. "Is this making you angry?" she breathed against his skin.

  "What do you think?"

  "I would say a definite no," she teased.

  "You would be right."

  Once again Sophie felt the magnetism of him carrying her along on a tide of passion, felt herself become weak and pliable as only he could make her. And yet she felt a certain amount of resentment toward him, too, resentment that he should choose to use her whenever he wanted. Her wants and needs didn't come into it, and although he always
gave her pleasure, it was always when he wanted to make love. His manner toward her at other times was barely civil.

  As her resentment toward him grew so her desire died. She was being used, was merely a body to him, someone to provide pleasure for him whenever he was in the mood.

  She began to struggle against him, her thoughts ones of "escape. "No, Luke," she cried. "Leave me alone."

  There was a curious stillness about his body as he lay partly across her. "What did you say?" he asked dangerously softly.

  "I said no," she repeated, surprised at her own nerve. It ', was a sure fact he wasn't pleased at what she had said. . "No—what?"

  "No, I don't want you to make love to me," she said bravely.

  He levered himself away from her with barely suppressed violence. "You are refusing me after making the advances?"

  "Yes." She was unable to look at him, at the glittering anger in his eyes.

  "You did it on purpose?"

  "Did what?"

  "Aroused me and now deny me," he accused grimly.

  "Not on purpose; no. I—" Her eyes pleaded with him for understanding. "I don't like being used," she said lamely.

  "Used?" He ground the word out. "Am I not also being used? .You do not love me and yet you respond to me."

  “I———“

  "You use me, too, Sophie," he snapped harshly. "And now you think you can turn me off like a schoolboy. And if I choose to take you, anyway?"

  "I couldn't stop you," she said huskily.

  "But you do not want me?"

  Oh, yes, she wanted him, but she wanted him with love, not lust. "No," she lied.

  "Very well." He rolled away from her, got out of bed and pulled on his clothes.

  "What are you doing?" She sat up in bed, unaware of provocative picture she made in her nakedness.

  He looked at her impatiently. "What does it look like?"

  "You're going out? Now?"

  "Of course flow," he snapped.

  "But—"

  "I cannot sleep with you in that bed after what you have done to me." He pulled on his jacket.

  "But… but where will you go?"

  "Anywhere away from you. Do not worry, I will be back in the morning before your parents are awake. But tomorrow we have some serious talking to do."

  "We do?"

  "You must know we do!"

  "Please." She bit her lip. "Don't go."

  He stopped with his hand on the door. "You have changed your mind?"

  "No! No, I haven't," she said more calmly. "1—I just don't want you to go.”

  “I have to.'' The door closed quietly behind him,

  Sophie didn't sleep at all, her heart heavy. She hadn't expected him to leave her—maybe treat her to his chilling silence—but not actually leave her. Where could he have gone at this time of night? More to the point, what would her parents think if they knew?

  She doubted Luke would continue his affair with Rosemary now, but there would be other women, she knew that. He had married her because of her father, was even 'willing to stay married to her because he desired her, but there would always be other women, other affairs. Tonight she had rebuffed him, refused him the one thing he wanted from her. Would he now end their marriage? They had to talk, he said, and she felt sure it would be an ultimatum on his part.

  He didn't love her, had never spoken any words of affection to her, so why should she suppose he would want to continue their marriage when it could hold nothing for him. But did she want it to continue like this herself? There was no need to answer that question; her refusal earlier was answer enough.

  What a dismal failure this had all been. But hadn't it been destined to be from the start, with no love on Luke's side and the love she felt for him unwanted? Perhaps it was better this way. Better for whom! She would die without Luke, without even the small part of him he was prepared to give.

  CONTRARY TO WHAT HE HAD SAID, Luke was not back the next morning before it was time to go down to breakfast. She waited as long as she could, but by nine-thirty decided that one of them should at least put in an appearance.

  Her father, the only occupant of the dining room, put his paper away as she came in. "No Luke?" He smiled.

  "He…he's a little tired this morning," she excused, sitting down opposite him. She poured herself some coffee. "He's been working hard."

  He nodded. "Your mother said he was working on another portrait."

  How did she—oh, yes, she had told her so herself. "More coffee, daddy?" she indicated his half-empty cup.

  "Thanks." He pushed his cup forward. "Aren't you having any breakfast this morning.?"

  "No, I—I'm not hungry." And she wasn't—food was the last thing on her mind. She was so worried about where Luke could be that she couldn't even think of food. ,

  "Do you still have the headache? You're looking awfully pale."

  "Headache?" She frowned, her headache of yesterday evening quite forgotten by what had happened later. "Oh, no, it's quite gone."

  "Has this baby upset you?" he asked gently.

  "The baby? No, of course not," she hastened to reassure him. "You must be overjoyed."

  "Naturally I'm pleased, but—"

  She put her hand over his. "You don't have to play it down for me, daddy. I can see how excited you are. I'm not a child, daddy, and I don't need to be humored. I don't know why everyone had the idea that I would make a scene—"

  "Oh, not a scene Sophie," her father cut in.

  "But you did, you all thought that, including Luke."

  "Only because, well, you've been an only child for so long, my own little girl."

  "And now I'm a grown woman."

  "Yes, I suppose you are."

  "And it's time everyone realized it." She smiled. "I will quite like having a baby brother or sister."

  "Oh, Rosemary's convinced it will be a boy."

  "I hope she isn't disappointed."

  "With her determination?" he grinned. "It wouldn't dare be anything else."

  "Where is mommy this morning? There's nothing wrong is there?"

  "No, no. I just like her to have a rest in the mornings. It isn't going to be easy having a baby at her age, and I want her to take things as easy as possible. All this traveling up to London will have to stop, and the late hours she used to keep. She's not considered young to be having her first pregnancy at her age, and I wouldn't want anything to go wrong at this stage. She's so pleased about it, it's made a different woman out of her."

  Sophie had noticed the more gentle look in her eyes, the love she openly showed her husband. "I, er, I was wondering, as Rosemary will stay here resting, I was wondering if she would like me to stay on with her for a while, a little feminine company, so to speak." She smiled at him brightly.

  "But surely you've only been married two weeks."

  He looked astounded.

  "I know, but—"

  "Won't Luke mind?" he cut in.

  "Oh, I'm sure he won't. He's very busy at the moment; I hardly see him."

  "Yes, but—"

  "Ask him yourself, daddy. I'm sure he would much rather have me out of the way at the moment." He frowned. "Well, it doesn't seem right to me. This problem you were having," he said sharply. "It hasn't resolved itself?”

  Well, one of them had—Rosemary was definitely out of the picture. But there were still the other women, there always would be. "I think we may be better off after a small separation," she admitted reluctantly.

  "After only two weeks of marriage?"

  "I don't mean a separation as such, just a little while away from each other. Rosemary's condition would give me good reason for making the suggestion." It would also save her the humiliation of having Luke ask her to leave. God, she was a coward! "That is, of course, if you think mommy would want me here."

  "I'm sure she would," he said instantly. "But I don't understand the reasons for leaving Luke."

  "I'm not leaving him," she said sharply. "Just having a few days away from him."


  "Are you sure that's all it will be?" he asked shrewdly.

  Tears filled her eyes. "Don't you want me here?"

  He put his hand over hers, squeezing gently. "It isn't that, Sophie. I'm just concerned for you. Surely that's only natural?"

  "Of course, daddy! But I—I need tune away from Luke. Something is wrong with our marriage, and I can't straighten it out with him." Something was wrong with her marriage? Everything was wrong with it.

  "Pretty overpowering sort of chap, isn't he?" her father said ruefully.

  "That's an understatement. He completely swept me off my feet before I had time to think."

  "I gathered that."

  She blushed as she remembered the way her wedding to Luke had come about. But she had done the right thing-look at the happiness her father and Rosemary were now sharing. There couldn't be a happy ending for everyone.

  "Yes, well you know the old saying—"

  "Marry in haste, repent at leisure?" her father finished for her. "But I thought you loved him."

  "I do!" That was the tragedy of it all!

  "Then why—Oh, never mind. 1 don't suppose it's any of my business anyway. But you're welcome to stay here for as long as you want to, although I would prefer that you talk it over with Luke first. Who knows, you may be able to talk this thing out now."

  "I'll go up and talk to him now," Sophie agreed. She had to find out if he was back yet, anyway.

  "Drink your coffee first," he ordered. "I'm sure he won't appreciate being woken up to be told you're leaving him."

  "I'm not—"

  “As good as, Sophie.''

  "It isn't like that, daddy." She evaded his searching eyes, standing up to leave. "I'll pop in and see Rosemary, too."

  "Okay," he nodded.

  She hurried up to their bedroom, certain that Luke must be back by now. She wasn't disappointed—she could hear him moving about in the adjoining bathroom. She had to approach this thing properly; she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he had hurt her.

  She was sitting on the bed when he came out of the bathroom, his only clothing a blue robe, his dark hair still damp from the shower he had just taken. Nevertheless, he looked as drained as she did, a white ring of tension about the firmness of his mouth.

  He gave her a brief glance before starting to dress. Sophie looked away from the lithe nakedness of his body, maybe her last chance of seeing him so intimately. She may have told her father that she wasn't leaving Luke, but she had a feeling this break would be final.