Fire Under Snow

by Dorothy Vernon

  Men normally hate browsing in shops, and the fact that they were there by Noel’s guiding hand was highly suspicious. When he disappeared for an hour on an errand of his own, Lorraine was pretty certain that he’d gone to buy her aunt a house gift, although he had more than recompensed her aunt’s hospitality by taking them out for meals. When they met up again he wasn’t carrying a parcel, but that didn’t mean much. It could have been something small enough to slip into his pocket, or he could have returned to the car, which was parked near at hand, and stowed it away in the trunk.

  This last supposition proved to be correct. When they returned to the cottage, Leonora followed her usual custom of going on ahead to open the door and Noel went around to the trunk of his car. Lorraine hovered in curiosity and saw him take out what appeared to be two parcels.

  “Well?” she said impatiently when he made no comment. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you bought for Aunt Leonora?”

  “Will you come up to my room?”

  “Noel!”

  “Unfortunately, that’s not what I have in mind. Good grief, girl! Hasn’t my behavior this week proved anything to you? Perhaps you’re right,” he said, answering the suspicion adhering to her mouth. “I’ve taken more cold showers in the last seven days than cleanliness warrants. Your guess that I absented myself to buy my hostess a parting gift was right on target. You know Leonora’s taste better than I do. I wanted to ask your opinion. So, will you come up to my room?” His eyes were in conflict with his words. They said, “Dare you?”

  She answered his eyes. “You wouldn’t ... would you?”

  “Only one way to find out,” he taunted.

  He wasn’t being very gallant to tease her like this. He was paying her back for not being more trusting. She couldn’t deny him that right. But how far did he intend to go in retaliation? Words she could handle. To quote the ones he’d just used, “Only one way to find out.”

  She walked ahead of him with dignity in her step. He followed her into the bedroom. That was a mistake. She should have let him go first to claim the option of leaving the door open. He closed it behind him.

  He put the parcels he had been carrying down on the bedside table and took a long slender box from his pocket. He opened it and lifted out a bracelet. It wasn’t until he fastened it around her wrist that she realized it wasn’t an inexpensive piece of costume jewelry, like the jet earrings. It was the prettiest bracelet she had ever seen, delicately designed in twists and circles of gold, and some of the circles contained the sparkle of diamonds.

  “You’ve gone overboard with the price. It’s much too costly and too personal for Aunt Leonora to be able to accept it.”

  “It wasn’t intended for Leonora.” He indicated the parcels he had just put down. “Leonora’s present is there. I bought the bracelet for you.”

  “That’s even worse. I can’t accept jewelry from you.”

  “You accepted these,” he said, touching the swing of jet at her ears.

  “That’s different and you know it. A token. Here, you must take it back.”

  “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you,” he said stiffly, his voice as cold as hers had been heated, taking the bracelet and tossing it carelessly down on the bed, making her cringe involuntarily at the ill-treatment of such an exquisite thing. “This is what I bought for Leonora. I was torn between a piece of glass and this –” Discarding the outer wrapping, he opened a box, and from her protective straw bed he lifted a porcelain ballerina, perfect in pose and detail.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, taking it reverently in her hands. “It’s still too costly and Aunt Leonora will scold you for going to such expense, but it’s in good taste and she will love it.”

  “I get the message. Giving you the bracelet wasn’t in good taste. It didn’t say the right thing. Apparently, that’s as important as the cost of the item.” He unwrapped the other box and took something from it. “While I was in the shop, this little chap caught my eye. Does he say the right thing to you?”

  This time she accepted the gift, a china cupid, into her careful fingers. “He’s adorable,” she said. He was smaller than the ballerina, about a quarter of the size, but he bore the same very exclusive maker’s stamp. “I shouldn’t, really. But yes, thank you,” she said, reaching up to kiss him.

  He cupped her face in his hands, tenderly protective of the china cupid still within the clasp of her fingers. Her mouth received his kiss, but there wasn’t a part of her mind or body that didn’t react to the ecstasy of it. He kissed her again, releasing a second wave of passion within her, and her lips turned to fire. She knew it was time to go, only her feet wouldn’t act of their own volition. She needed a push.

  He supplied it. “For pity’s sake, Lorraine! I’m not made of steel. That bed is too available and too inviting, and so are you. If you don’t get out of here quickly –”

  She didn’t wait for him to finish the sentence.

  Somewhere outside a blackbird was singing its heart out and the sun skipped in at her window and laid its warm finger on her eyelids, tempting her lashes open. The china cupid, which she hadn’t dared to refuse after annoying Noel by not accepting the bracelet, sat on her dressing table – her dressing table at home and not Aunt Leonora’s dressing table at the cottage – where she could see him instantly on waking.

  Her smile was as full of joy as the blackbird’s song as she said to the cupid, “When he gave you to me, do you suppose he was trying to tell me something?”

  But when the days that followed brought no word from Noel, she began to wonder if she’d perhaps read too much into the gift. Every time she was called to the phone her heart lifted, then dropped when it wasn’t him.

  When he did eventually phone her, his voice was terse and preoccupied.

  “Lorraine, I’ve got a crisis on my hands. I haven’t time to explain now. I’ve sent a taxi to collect you and bring you to my apartment. Don’t argue. Get in it and come.”

  Such arrogance was typical of him. He left her hanging around for days on end, and then snapped his fingers and expected her to come running.

  Now that they were on home ground, had he reverted to type? Was the urgent request a trick to get her into his apartment? It was a risk she would have to take. She had made up her mind that the very next time they met she would tell him about her marriage to Jamie. Noel’s apartment would supply the privacy she needed.

  She hadn’t tried to get in touch with Jamie to ask for her freedom because she knew that he was still in America. Yesterday’s late edition had carried a news story about him, a report of his being involved in a nightclub fracas. Noel would be furious about that. She knew that it was not unusual for such publicity stunts to be arranged just to attract attention and bring in the customers. Noel didn’t operate that way. He was conscious that a proportion of the public consisted of teenagers, and he wouldn’t deliberately promote anything he saw as a bad influence. Jamie’s entire publicity campaign had been built round his clean-cut image. With his childish blue eyes and his golden hair, Noel had been quick to see that Jamie was tailor-made for the part of boy charmer. He was the answered prayer of every mother who feared for the hazards that lay in wait to beset her naive and impetuous young daughter.

  It was in the cards that sooner or later Jamie would do something to discredit himself, but why did he have to do it just now? Noel would be seething as it was without her adding her piece. Yet putting it off again could serve no useful purpose. Might as well pile on the infamy while Jamie was well out of reach of Noel’s anger.

  She didn’t know how Noel would react when she told him everything – it would depend on the depth of his affection for her – but it could only be to Jamie’s advantage if he was not around until the first shock had worn off.

  The taxi arrived before she had time to change and freshen up. The urgency of his phone call must have got through to her because she turned on her heel, unwilling to keep the driver waiting. He dropped her off at a very exclusi
ve apartment block and waved aside her attempt to pay, assuring her that it would be charged to Mr. Britton’s account.

  She walked into the building, and it was like entering another world, a plush, sumptuous world she had seen only on film and had thought to be wildly exaggerated because no one could live in such luxury.

  A man came hurrying toward her, an ingratiating smile on his lips. “Miss Marshall?”

  She nodded to indicate her identity. She was trying to look as though it was commonplace for her to receive VIP treatment and this could only be achieved by keeping her mouth closed. Her voice at that moment would have revealed the truth.

  He guided her toward the elevator, where the doors were open and waiting to transport her straight up to the penthouse suite. It was like walking in a dream. She had known that he was not short of money, yet nothing about him had hinted that he could afford to live in this style of unpretentious good taste and comfort put before fashion, which found favor in her eyes.

  The open door invited her to enter the lounge where soft, melodious music was coming from the stereo, but there was no sign of Noel. From the other side of another open door, his unmistakable voice called out, “I’m in here. Come in and make yourself useful.”

  It could have been the kitchen and he might have been inveigling her into fixing him a snack. But it was his bedroom. An open suitcase sat on his king-sized bed and he was throwing clothes into it. This fact made it less of a shock to see that he was wearing a blue silk robe, little more than thigh level, with no apparent evidence of anything underneath. She noticed three things. His chest was muscular and very hairy. His legs, their length emphasized by the shortness of his robe, were strong and deeply tanned. And his hair was wet from the shower he had obviously just taken.

  He noticed one thing about her: the blush staining her very expressive face. “Hello, darling,” he said, pausing in his task to drop a kiss on her cheek before commenting on the obvious cause of its heightened color. “Does this bother you?” Indicating his robe.

  She supposed it was respectable coverage at that, and she felt that it was very gauche of her to be so completely mesmerized by the sight of him and so compellingly conscious of the male aura he emitted in this state of undress. “Well,” she bluffed in embarrassment.

  “It never fails to get me,” he said.

  “What?”

  “That blush. I won’t be a moment.” He disappeared into the bathroom. When he reappeared he was still wearing the robe and its deep wrapover vee fastening still exposed his hairy chest, but now his legs were correctly encased in trousers. He looked down at her from his great height and his strained face softened in tolerance. “I’m a lucky guy to have found you first. I was beginning to think that a man had to catch a girl before her sixteenth birthday to say that.”

  “Noel, there’s something I should –”

  “Let me finish. This is going to be a flowery speech, and that’s something I haven’t a lot of experience to draw on. The world I knock around in is corrupted by avarice and self-gratification, where girls not only grab diamond bracelets but demand the matching necklace as well, so you must excuse me for thinking you couldn’t be true. Well, it’s taken time, but now I know you are.”

  “Noel, I must tell you –”

  “Later. Please listen. I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you. Every move I made was to one end: to get you between the sheets. My feelings on that score haven’t lessened; in fact, they’re getting more urgent and intense by the moment. I don’t know how long I can go on putting your virtue before my carnal desire. I can see only one way that will satisfy us both, and that’s to make it legal. Think about it and have your answer ready for me when I come back, bearing in mind that I will only accept a yes.”

  “Oh, Noel.”

  “Don’t look at me like that. Help me to finish my packing, or so help me I’ll kick the suitcase aside, say to hell with Jamie Gray, take what your eyes are offering and see about the legal aspect later.”

  She was almost swooning with happiness. Noel had just... proposed? Somehow, miraculously, he had found out about Jamie, he didn’t mind and he was going to sort it out with him. She didn’t have to do a thing, just sit back and wait until it was all taken care of.

  But no – she went over his words again in her mind and realized that something didn’t fit. He hadn’t spoken as if he knew of her marriage to Jamie. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of confusion, and remembered Noel’s own connection with Jamie, who was in Las Vegas, and, if one could believe what one read in the press, was getting himself into a whole lot of trouble. That’s what Noel would be going to sort out.

  “You don’t mind if I finish my packing while we talk, do you?” he said. “Planes won’t wait and I haven’t a lot of time.”

  “It must be something very important to make you fly out to see him.”

  “It is. He’s been acting the fool. You may have read about it in the papers – arriving late for performances, turning up drunk out of his mind, gambling excessively. Finally he got himself involved in a fight that ended up with someone almost getting killed. I’ve sent cables, which he hasn’t answered. I’ve tried to reach him by phone. I’m now going out there to deliver an ultimatum. He can pull himself together or I’m going to sue for breach of contract. That’s if I don’t give him grounds to sue me first by taking it out of his hide.”

  “You sound very angry,” she said in understatement.

  “With complete justification. Time and money have been invested in promoting his image – but this can’t be of interest to you.” He pushed the last few things into his suitcase, closed the lid and slammed home the locks. “We have so little time before I have to dash for my plane.”

  He didn’t know about her and Jamie. Her happiness of a moment before was suddenly dashed to pieces.

  “Darling –” His arms came strongly round her. “Don’t be so desolate. I’ll only be gone a few days and then –”

  She knew that his mind was desperately divided. He didn’t want to leave her. He released her with deep reluctance. He threw off his robe and reached for his shirt, buttoned it up and tucked it into his trousers.

  There was a tie on his bed which complemented his shirt and had obviously been left out to wear. She held it out to him.

  “Thanks. Pass me my jacket, there’s a love. You were trying to tell me something.” He was looking at the bedside clock. “What was it?”

  It wasn’t something she could gabble out in a few seconds. And in any case, how could she tell him now? She owed Jamie nothing; his own actions had killed any loyalty she might have had, but she could not do it to him. It was one thing to tell Noel of Jamie’s treachery with the cooling ocean between them to lower the heat of his temper. But Noel was crossing that ocean to see Jamie, and he was murderous minded enough toward him as it was without her adding fire to his fury.

  He took her into his arms, and there was pain in his eyes at the enforced parting. His lips moved over her forehead and down her cheek in one long, sliding, blissful kiss that drenched every part of her body in its warmth and blessed her soul.

  “Oh ... my lovely Lorraine.” Her name emerged on a husky, wrung-out note, as if he were generating more emotion than he could handle. She willingly, adoringly absorbed it into her own heart, wrapping her arms round his neck in deep, humble, throat-swelling gratitude.

  He lusted for her. That hadn’t changed. The heat of his desire scorched down her body, and she wouldn’t have had it any other way. But now she sensed a subtle difference. Always before she had known that higher feelings didn’t enter into it and that he had wanted her solely to sate the demands his body was making. Somehow – how? when? – his heart had become involved. If he wasn’t in love with her already, he was moving swiftly in that direction.

  “It’s hell leaving you. You know that, don’t you, precious?” he said thickly.

  “I know,” she murmured.

  Compulsively, their mouths leaped
together again, and were dragged agonizingly apart.

  “What was this all-important thing you had to tell me?”

  “Did I make it sound all-important?” She shrugged, smiled and said, with no idea of the disastrous consequences she would bring upon herself, “It will keep until you get back.”

  Chapter Eight

  While Noel was away, one nice thing happened to create a pleasant diversion. Sir William phoned to invite her out to dinner, and she accepted without giving herself time to wonder about the wisdom of this. Noel hadn’t liked Sir William because he was jealous of him. Once he knew he had no cause to be jealous there would be no cause for resentment. It was as simple as that.

  The preliminaries of greeting out of the way, Sir William said, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you the girl who likes authentic Greek cooking?”

  “I’ll correct you. You’re wrong. It’s Aunt Leonora who is mad about moussaka.”

  “Pity. I hope that doesn’t sound too ungallant; it’s just that I know this charming little taverna. Still, no matter. What does set your taste-buds dancing?”

  “Sweet and sour. Crispy noodles, giant prawns – oh, and those little pancake rolls.”

  “Good. I don’t mind Chinese myself. By the way ... how is your charming aunt?”

  It was a natural enough enquiry, yet a certain eagerness in his tone alerted her senses to something she had previously been unaware of. Why hadn’t she noticed before the slight embarrassment when he spoke her aunt’s name, as if he were guilty of self-betrayal? And, now she came to think of it, there was a similar reaction whenever she mentioned Sir William’s name to her aunt. Leonora always went girlishly pink and suddenly became absorbed with her hands. Sir William and Aunt Leonora – what a lovely thought. No aunt was loved more, and Sir William would always hold a special place in her heart.