by Penny Jordan
'In the meantime, sponge him down if you can manage it—that will bring his temperature down a little bit, and if you can manage to get any fluid inside him . . . Mrs James will help you with that. ..'
Doctor Simmonds had been their family doctor all through Lindsay's childhood, and she felt no qualms in telling him about Mrs James' absence.
'Umm . . . well it's lucky for Lucas that you happened to be there,' was his only comment.
Sponge Lucas down the doctor had told her, and Lindsay felt an odd quivering seize hold of her muscles as she contemplated carrying out such an intimate task.
'Stop being so Victorian,' she chided herself ruthlessly as she went back upstairs. 'Until last night you were quite happy to see Lucas as your brother ... so why go all dithery and nervous now? Why? Because since then Lucas had kissed and touched her, and in doing so had wakened her to facets of her own personality and emotions she had hitherto successfully concealed from herself; that was why, Lindsay admitted wryly to herself. It seemed ironic that Lucas should be able to arouse in her feelings that Jeremy for all his suitability as a husband could not.
Back upstairs, she hesitated outside Lucas' room, and then reminding herself firmly that he was a sick man and as such in need of her care and help she went in.
Lucas obviously hadn't moved since she left him. He was lying on his back breathing heavily, his skin still darkly flushed, perspiration dampening his skin. The bedclothes had slipped down to his waist and when Lindsay tentatively touched his chest it was hot to her touch. He was sweating profusely, the bedclothes around him damp, the dark arrowing of body hair on his chest slick with moisture. As she stood uncertainly beside the bed he opened his eyes, the dark lashes glued spikily together, his gaze dark and blind as he muttered in a hoarse, unfamiliar voice, 'We have to get that contract . . . we need it ... do you hear me?'
Sensing that he was oblivious to her presence and gripped completely by his fever-induced thoughts, Lindsay soothed him automatically, talking in a soft, low voice, which seemed to work because he stopped muttering and closed his eyes again. These ramblings had been a feature of his illness when he had succumbed to the fever before, she remembered, and she frowned a little recalling that on one occasion the fever had been bought on by the strain of working for his finals when he was at Oxford. Then she remembered he had raved about his exams, going over and over the questions he had been set. Now he seemed to be concerned about some contract, and her stomach muscles clenched tensely. Was there some problem with the business? Something he had not told her fully the previous evening when they were discussing it?
'Lindsay.'
The husky, but quite lucid tone in which he said her name brought her out of her thoughts. Her eyes went immediately to his, expecting to see him looking at her calmly, but instead his eyes were still tightly closed.
He said her name again, this time in a hoarse mutter, and reacting instinctively, Lindsay bent down to touch him. 'It's all right Lucas, I'm here,' she told him softly, surprised to feel the tension which had gripped his body when she touched him, suddenly easing.
'Don't go away . . . stay with me . . .'
He must have got her confused with Gwen, Lindsay thought wryly. The Lucas she knew would never ask for her company. He had already made it plain it was the last thing he wanted, but the mere fact that he had said her name; that he had betrayed a need to her, made it easier for her to go into his bathroom and return with a damp sponge and a towel.
Touching him, however, without being aware of him as a man was not so easy, and it was only by tensing every muscle and reminding herself that he was ill and that she was engaged to someone else—or virtually so, that she was able to carry out her task. The coolness of the sponge seemed to soothe him slightly because his movements became less restless and when Lindsay returned from the bathroom with a fresh towel he seemed to have drifted into a more natural sleep. Watching him she had a cowardly impulse to leave him alone and to go downstairs to await Doctor Simmonds arrival, but even as the thought formed, Lucas started to twist restlessly again, fresh beads of sweat springing up on his body.
Sighing faintly Lindsay started to re-sponge his chest, appalled by the storm of sensation touching him aroused inside her. The mere act of touching him made her ache inside, so intensely that she could hardly believe this was actually her, experiencing these alien and exhausting emotions. She had just finished sponging Lucas down for the third time when she heard a car drawing up outside, and she reached the window just in time to see Doctor Simmonds climbing out.
Sighing in relief she hurried downstairs to let him in.
The last time she had seen him had been at Christmas when he and his wife had attended one of Gwen's many cocktail parties. Gwen was not particularly fond of the Simmondses, Lindsay remembered, but Lucas had been insistent on them being included.
Lindsay stayed downstairs whilst the Doctor went up to Lucas' room, busying herself making them both a cup of coffee. She heard him coming back down again and went into the hall to meet him.
'You were quite right,' he confirmed, accepting her offer of a drink and following her into the kitchen. 'It's a recurrence of his old fever—pretty bad this time too.' He frowned thoughtfully sipping his coffee. 'He only seems to suffer from it when he's under a considerable amount of pressure . . . both emotional and physical ... I wonder what brought this attack on?'
It was Lindsay's turn to frown. 'Well, I expect losing Gwen and I know he's concerned about some contract or other. He was delirious earlier and he kept referring to it.'
'Yes. He did say the last time I saw him that he was hoping to get a new American contract, but Lucas is a tough and shrewd businessman, I shouldn't have thought that would have brought this on.'
'Not on its own perhaps,' Lindsay agreed, 'but coupled with losing Gwen . . .'
'Good riddance if you ask me,' Doctor
Simmonds shocked her by saying rather un- sympathetically. 'Never could see why he married her in the first place—apart from the obvious reason, and she'd already made it more than plain that he could have that without marriage—and nor would he have been the first,' he added, almost as though he sensed the shocked denial hovering on Lindsay's tongue.
'Now don't look like that my dear,' he counselled her with a brief smile. 'I might be past my best, but that doesn't mean I'm not aware of what goes on around me. Gwen made a deliberate set at Lucas from the moment she set eyes on him, and I for one was very disappointed in him when he married her, but then I suppose with your parents both dead, and no one else available, he felt that for your sake if nothing else, he should have a wife.' When he saw Lindsay's expression he grimaced slightly. 'People will talk my dear, and in truth as I remember it there were already tongues wagging even before he married Gwen. After all you were living together.'
'But Lucas is my stepbrother,' Lindsay murmured, stunned by what he was telling her. 'He never .. . I. ..'
'My dear, I know there was nothing in the rumours, and to be honest, I suspect that Gwen had a hand in circulating them . . . after all it would have suited her purpose very nicely and added considerable weight to her case. Lucas always did take his responsibilities seriously, and he was I suppose, standing in loco parentis to you . . . '
'You're surely not suggesting that Lucas married Gwen to protect me from rumours?'
'Not entirely, but I wouldn't entirely discount it as one of the reasons that might have motivated him. I must admit I wasn't surprised when I'd heard that they'd parted. I don't think she ever made him happy. I certainly noticed a change in him after you left. However, it's all water under the bridge now,' he concluded comfortably, adding, 'Will you be able to stay and look after him, or do you want to make arrangements to engage a private nurse? I warn you it could be a couple of weeks before he's properly on the mend.'
Lindsay stared at him. She had been so concerned with the immediacy of Lucas' illness that she hadn't thought any further ahead than the doctor's arrival ... Of course Lu
cas would need nursing; she should have thought of that. Her mind winged back to the past ... to the countless trays she had carried up to his room during his last convalescence . .. How many hours had she spent with him then . . . keeping him entertained, keeping him resting in bed when he had wanted to get up.
'I'll stay and take care of him.' The words were out and the commitment made before she could deny either, and she saw from the approving look Doctor Simmonds gave her that she had given him the response he had expected.
'Good girl... I hoped you'd say that. That's the trouble with these healthy virile males—they the most dreadful patients. Of course you'll probab ly get a better response from him than anyone else. He always did have a rather soft spot
for you.'
'He did?' Lindsay couldn't help betraying a certain wry bitterness. What would Doctor
Simmonds say if she told him about their recent quarrel . . . and about Lucas' method of punishing her for her defiance?
Don't stay here, a cautioning inner voice warned her. Leave now and get a nurse to look after Lucas, but she knew she could not do that . . . She could not simply wipe away all the childhood memories and consign Lucas to someone else's care.
Doctor Simmonds was already getting up and Lindsay knew it was too late to take back her offer. 'I'll get a prescription made up for you and drop it round this afternoon. You'll have to keep sponging him down whilst the fever's at its height—he's a strong lad, it shouldn't be for too long. The antibiotics I'm going to give you should start working pretty quickly. Your main problem is going to be getting fluids into him—he'll probably fight you,' he warned Lindsay, 'but it is essential that you get him to drink as much as possible, especially while the fever's at its height. Think you can cope?'
Here was her chance to back out, to explain thai she felt she could not, and yet perversely she heard herself saying calmly, 'Yes, I think so.'
'Good girl.' Doctor Simmonds gave her an avuncular pat. 'I'll take a look at him later this afternoon when I bring the antibiotics.'
When the doctor had gone Lindsay made herself another cup of coffee, stealing herself to go back upstairs and take another look at her patient What had possessed her to volunteer to look alter after Lucas?
She had volunteered though, and she could hardly back out now. Too late she remembered
that she was supposed to be spending the next weekend with Jeremy and his parents. Her heart sank a little. She suspected she was only acceptable to the Byles by virtue of her father's money, and they would not be too pleased at her cancelling the weekend—neither would Jeremy, but surely he would understand that she could hardly desert Lucas? A little reluctantly she went into the study and dialled the number of Jeremy's parents' home. As she had suspected, her explanations as to why she would not be able to stay with them the following weekend met with a frosty reception. 'But surely my dear, someone else could look after your stepbrother . . . Where is his wife? Or surely a nurse could be employed?'
Not wanting to discuss Lucas' divorce with her prospective mother-in-law, Lindsay merely said that Gwen was away, adding that although a nurse could be employed, she felt it almost a duty to stay herself.
It was plain that Irene Byles was not pleased, and for some reason Lindsay found that her displeasure only increased her own determination to stay with Lucas.
'I can't think what Jeremy will have to say,' was her parting comment before she let Lindsay go. 'After all it was his intention to announce your
engagement formally next weekend.'
Lindsay always found talking to Jeremy's mother som ething of a trial. The other woman was an out and out snob, and she maintained an air of condenscension toward Lindsay which the latter found particularly trying. Not for the first time a tiny voice urged her to think carefully about commiting herself to Jeremy, reminding her that
in this case especially to marry the man was to marry the family. Previously she had always managed to convince herself that once they were married Irene's attitude toward her would relax a little, but today she found herself hard to convince. Jeremy's mother resented the fact that she had money, Lindsay knew, even whilst at the same time she wanted that wealth to be brought into the family. She never lost an opportunity to remind Lindsay of the social gap that lay between them, and so far Lindsay had borne her acid barbed remarks with equanimity. Now she found herself wondering if she would be able to mask her resentment when she was actually Jeremy's wife. She even found that she was asking herself why she should have to. Surely as Jeremy's wife she had the right to expect her husband to defend her from his mother's dislike? Disturbed by her own train of thought Lindsay dialled the number of Jeremy's flat and left a brief explanatory message on his answering service. No doubt, as his mother had suggested, Jeremy would not be pleased by her decision to stay with Lucas, but he would be even less pleased to learn that Lucas had not given whole hearted approval to their marriage . . . Amazingly, she had been so caught up in her concern for Lucas that she had almost forgotten what had brought her home in the first place, and the rather unkind thought struck her that she had only to say to Jeremy that she was staying with Lucas in the hope of persuading him to change his mind about their engagement and she would undoubtedly have his wholehearted support. Was that really the type of man she wanted to marry, she asked herself wryly; someone who
placed money and possessions first in what was important in life? Jeremy had no choice she reminded herself, like her he had been taught almost from birth that certain things were expected of him. It was unfair to blame him for what his parents and upbringing had instilled in him. No one would ever be able to compell Lucas to marry for reasons of expediency, she found herself thinking and then frowned remembering what Doctor Simmonds had said. Surely it couldn't possibly be true that Lucas had married Gwen partially because he was concerned by the gossip about their own relationship? Lindsay could hardly credit it. It seemed so unlike the Lucas she knew . .. the man who had been rendered almost savage with frustration at the loss of his wife. No
. . Doctor Simmonds must have got it wrong.
There was one thing she had to do, Lindsay i old herself as she went back upstairs to Lucas, if she was going to stay here and nurse him successfully, and that was that she must put out of her mind completely the events of the previous evening. She must force both her mind and body to forgot those moments in Lucas' arms had ever happened; they must be expunged from her memory for all time. He was her stepbrother; she was his sister . . . that was what she must remember . . not how his skin had felt like hot
silk beneath her touch, nor how her body had thrilled with pleasure at his touch upon it, aching for mor e . , . so much more . . . Stop it, Lindsay cautioned herself, taking a shaky breath. Stop it. Forget all about that—it didn't happen. Forget about it.
Think instead of the practical things, Lindsay
urged herself. If she was going to stay for the fortnight Doctor Simmonds had said it would take Lucas to recover, she was going to need more clothes than those she had brought with her. Making a mental note to ring Caroline and ask her to parcel up some things and send them on to her, Lindsay expelled a faint sigh of relief as she saw that Lucas was still asleep.
Once again though he had thrown off the protective bed clothes, and even as she watched, he started to move threshingly his face contorting into a frown as he muttered incomprehensibly. 'Gwen. . . .' His lips formed his ex-wife's name and the pain in his voice tormented Lindsay. Instinctively she went towards him, stroking his hair back from his fever-hot forehead, murmuring soothingly to him as she might have done to a small child, her heart aching in sympathy for him, even while she knew how much he would hate her witnessing his weakness. Her touch seemed to soothe him slightly, and eventually he sank back into heavy sleep. Lindsay remained where she was for several minutes, lost in her own thought s, wondering painfully why it was that Lucas should be the one to arouse those feelings inside her she had once thought herself incapable of experiencing, She lov
ed him she realised numbingly—not as a sister ... not as an adolescent in love with the idol of love, but as a woman, so deeply and intensely that for years she had protected herself from the pain of admitting the truth by denying her feelings for him. The knowledge hit her like a thunderbolt; intensely painful, agonisingly real. Too real to be denied.
She got up and moved restlessly over to the
window, staring blindly out of it. All right, so she loved him? So what? It was an impossible, idiotic love that should be ruthlessly uprooted, she told herself. Lucas certainly did not return her feelings, and even if he had . . .
Even if he had, Lucas was not the man her father would have chosen for her to marry, she acknowledged, and yet her father had loved Lucas like a son. If Lucas had loved her what would she have done, she asked herself, but her senses answered the question for her long before her mind had formed a rational answer. Much as she hated to go against her father's wishes she would have done so. Leaning her elbows on the open window she looked at the distant view, wondering why it should be now, of all times, just when she was on the verge of becoming engaged to someone else that she should discover her real feelings? Could she still marry Jeremy, knowing how she felt about Lucas? If she didn't marry him what was there for her? The pain of loving a man who did not love her in return, the emptiness of a life with no husband or children in it? At least she and Jeremy weren't deceiving one another. They had neither professed to be deeply in love with the other. B ut when she had agreed to marry Jeremy she hadn't realised how she felt about Lucas, Lindsay reminded herself; she hadn't experienced that fierce starburst of pleasure and need that Lucas had exploded inside her last night. And now that she had? Her thoughts were too muddled for her to analyse them rationally. A sound from the bed alerted her to the reason she was there and she turned towards it.