Tiger's Eye

by Madeleine Ker

  ‘Of course you don’t,’ he purred. ‘Stop fighting your natural inclinations. We got off to a bad start, Leila —’

  ‘And is this any better?’ she challenged angrily.

  ‘It feels better to me. You’re so beautiful…’ He bent to kiss her throat.

  When he’d kissed her before, it had been with deliberate sensuality, full on the lips. This was different.

  His mouth was incredibly gentle now, offering a consolation that was both treacherous and intoxicating. Her resistance had nothing to grasp at as his velvety mouth moved over her face, kissing her cheeks, her eyelids, the scented skin of her temples, anywhere but the soft lips that were parting helplessly for him.

  With wicked astuteness, he had been right. Getting her to remember all that past grief had softened her opposition, making her all too helpless in his arms. She wanted the comfort he could give her, illusory though it was …

  It took only the slightest movement to bring her mouth into contact with Blaize’s, but Leila knew that the movement had been hers and that this time she had wanted the kiss.

  His mouth was warm and firm. A meltingly sweet response unfolded in her, drawing her irresistibly to him. Her mouth opened under his pressure, and their kiss deepened to an intimate contact of tongues.

  The world stopped turning around them. Pain was stilled in her. Nothing was real any more, but the touch of this man. His hands were caressing downwards, moulding the curves of her body beneath the light materia1 of her sun-dress, holding her breasts in the cups of his palms, his-thumbs finding the peaks of desire at their centres.

  She arched to him with a little moan of hunger.

  She knew exactly how expertly she’d been deceived but it didn’t matter. That was the cruel cleverness of him; right now, she didn’t care that he was a coldblooded womaniser, a man whose morals she could never respect. What mattered was the feeling that he understood her. She’d told him something she’d never told another human being, and had seen the miracle of understanding in his eyes― understanding that was worth more than an ocean of pity to her right now.

  ‘How have we lasted this long?’ he groaned, crushing her in his arms. ‘Why do you keep me at arm’s length Leila? You’re not a virgin, are you? You know how good we’d be together!’

  ‘You’re too good with too many women,’ she whispered, her hands pale and slender as they caressed the bronzed column of his neck. ‘That’s your trouble! I told you once before, I’m not the kind of girl who has casual affairs! ‘

  ‘Who says it’s going to be casual?’ he purred.

  ‘Any kind of affairs,’ she amended.

  'In which case, what are you doing in my arms?’

  'Spilling my heart out to you,’ Leila said ruefully. 'Spilling my very unwise heart out to someone who’s an old expert at getting women’s secrets, but who doesn’t really give a damn about them.’

  His thumb traced the full curve of her lower lip gently, his eyes studying it as though he was imagining how it would feel, touching other parts of his body. ‘Come on, gorgeous. You’re not a sentimental idiot at this stage of your life, surely?’

  ‘I’m not any kind of idiot.’ Again, she tried hard to get away, but he was so strong. ‘You said you wouldn’t try anything like this again!’

  ‘But the game has many rules.’ He grinned.

  ‘It’s not a game!’ She was starting to get really angry. ‘You’re an unscrupulous bastard, Blaize. You’ll do anything to get your way—’

  ‘I’ll do anything to get my way with you,’ he said roughly. His palms stroked down the taut line of her waist, following the curve of her hips and thighs, drawing her close against him. ‘I want you, Leila. You don’t have a hope of resisting, do you know that?’

  This time he gave her no option about kissing him.

  Their mouths closed again, the excitement turning into flame, leaping along her veins. She tried to fight away, knowing it was madness.

  Then they both heard the door open, and Leila turned quickly as Blaize’s arms released her.

  Oh, no! Her rescuer was the last person she wanted to see right now.

  She met Tracey Oliver’s widening green eyes. There was a stretched silence. Then Blaize asked sharply, ‘What is it, Tracey?’

  The colour had drained from the girl’s face so quickly that Leila thought she was going to faint.

  ‘It’s Terry,’ she said dully. ‘Miss Lucy says she thinks he’s got measles.’

  ‘Damn,’ Blaize muttered. ‘I thought it was just a cold. He was never immunised,’ he told Leila, frowning. ‘Tracey was, but he missed out. Double damn! I’ll have to go and see. Is he in his bed?’

  Tracey nodded silently. Blaize touched Leila’s cheek as if in mute apology for having to leave her, and went out of the room to see his son.

  There wasn’t anything she could say to Tracey, so Leila sat down and turned back to the screen of her word processor without a word. Her heart was thudding painfully against her ribs, her whole body weak with the explosive cocktail of emotion and desire he’d awoken in her.

  ‘Your promises don’t mean much,’ Tracey said bitterly from behind her.

  “Do you think not?’ Leila said, staring at her own dark reflection in the screen.

  ‘You said you’d stay away from my father!’ Tracey accused, coming forward.

  ‘But did you say that your father would stay away from me?’ Leila retorted, swinging on her chair to face the teenager. ‘I’m not making any of the moves, Tracey. You re adult enough to see that!’

  ‘All I see is that he can’t take his eyes or his hands off you,’ Tracey hissed fiercely. ‘And you do everything In your power to encourage him!’

  ‘That’s not true.’ She was too emotional to face a quarrel with an undiscerning teenager right now but she had no option. ‘Listen to me,’ she said, appealing to the hot-eyed girl for understanding. ‘What you saw just now wasn’t a tender love-scene. It was something else something you’re still too young to understand.’

  ‘I’m not too young to understand you!’

  ‘I’m afraid you are,’ Leila said patiently. ‘I don’t want to get involved with your father. Do you think I’m the sort of person who makes a habit of sleeping with my boss? I’m not. If you knew anything about me, you’d understand that without having to be told!’

  ‘Then why do you let him touch you and kiss you?’

  The question, asked with such childlike simplicity, was unanswerable. Leila shook her golden head gently. ‘I don’t know. But I promise you one thing―I have no intention of getting involved with your father.’

  ‘You don’t mean a thing to him!’ The youthful voice was so cruel. ‘You’re just another casual lay to him!’

  ‘That’s no way to talk, Tracey,’ Leila said shortly.

  ‘That’s all you are.’ Tracey threw the words at her, her eyes blazing. ‘Another affair!’

  Leila’s mouth tightened. It shocked her to hear this fifteen-year-old girl talking like this, but what could she do? The girl had learned to see the world like that. And Leila’s own life had given her too much in common with Tracey for her to feel anything but understanding and pity for the confused child.

  And, in any case, she knew in her heart that Tracey was right, so what hypocritical point was there in telling her to stop?

  ‘Can’t you see the way things are with him and Katherine?’ Tracey was asking tensely. ‘She’s the only woman who has any chance of making Dad settle down again. But if you start an affair with him under her nose, everything will just fall to pieces. She’s so decent, can’t you see? She’d be broken-hearted. She’d never forgive him. Katherine’s different from you,’ the girl said in a low voice. ‘She cares about my dad, and she cares about us. She’s worth a hundred of you!’

  Leila met the hostile stare levelly. ‘You’re going to have to do some fast growing up, Tracey. And start realising that insulting me―or any of the other women who work for your father―is not going to san
itise his character for Katherine Henessey’s benefit. Do you understand what I’m saying?’ Tracey didn’t answer, but she dropped her eyes in front of Leila’s clear blue look. ‘Katherine is going to have to take your father as she finds him,’

  Leila went on in a steady voice. ‘And so are you, Tracey. If Katherine doesn’t know what he’s like by now, then she'll be marrying him under a false impression. He’s no angel, and, despite what you think, I don’t think she is, either. Honesty is the best policy. You don’t want another divorce in your life, do you?’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ the girl flared at her. ‘How dare you talk about Katherine like that? You’ve got no right!’

  'Judgements are unpleasant, aren’t they?’ Leila pointed out. She drew a slow breath. ‘Now, your brother sounds as though he’s pretty sick. Why don’t you forget about me and your father for a while, and go and see If you can help?’

  Tracey turned on her heel mutinously. At the doorway however, she turned to glance back at Leila ‘

  ‘What were you crying about?’ she asked after a moment’s silence.

  ‘Myself,’ Leila said tiredly. ‘Whenever I cry, that’s what I always cry about.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TERRY’S measles were confirmed by the doctor, a diagnosis that didn’t come as a surprise to everyone who’d seen the blotchy red rash on the boy’s skin. He was thoroughly miserable, but determined to be brave about it his spotty face screwed up with discomfort over the mound of blankets that the doctor ordered. Leila’s heart went out to him. She went to see him as often as she could over the week that passed, knowing how much distraction would mean to a nine-year-old cooped up with a nasty illness.

  Katherine Henessey, however, was notable by her absence.

  While quick to express sympathy, she was obviously bored with the sick-bed routine, and had not been a frequent visitor. Leila wondered whether Blaize had noticed this little failing in the normally flawless Katherine.

  On Friday evening, she gave a worn-out Lucy a night off, and sat with the boy, reading him stories in his little bedroom while the governess caught up on some much needed sleep.

  Blaize came in two or three times during the evening, sitting in silence on the opposite side of the bed, and watching the boy’s face thoughtfully as Leila read.

  To give him credit, he had seemed seriously concerned about his son’s welfare over this past week. For once, at least, there had been no insistence that Terry should not be spoiled. At times, when it had looked as though Terry’s fever might become dangerous, she’d seen Blaize look positively drawn with worry.

  Even the hardest men, she decided, must have a weak spot or two. In someone like Blaize, it was usually the children. She respected him all the more for his obvious sincerity of feeling; but it was still rather strange to see the ruthless tycoon turned concerned father.

  Terry’s temperature was up tonight, and the rash seemed to be reaching its peak. Unable to sleep for the headache and the fever, the boy was grizzly and tearful by eleven-thirty. Blaize, who’d held out all week against giving Terry the sedatives the doctor had left, turned to Leila with a worried frown.

  ‘Should we give him a pill? I hate the thought of giving a child drugs, but he’s so wretched…’

  ‘Is there any camomile tea in the house?’ Leila asked, smoothing the boy’s damp fringe away from his forehead.

  ‘Camomile?’ Blaize raised sceptical eyebrows. ‘That’s an old wives’ remedy, surely?’

  ‘It’s just what he needs,’ Leila said firmly.

  With a shrug, Blaize let himself out of the bedroom, and made for the kitchen. He was back in ten minutes, with a large cup of steaming orange tea.

  ‘Josefina, the cook, had some,’ he told Leila. ‘What about it, Terry? Fancy some nice hot tea?’

  Terry whimpered, turning his face away from the cup.

  Leila propped him up against her breast, cradling him in her arms, and took the tea from Blaize. Murmuring soothingly to him, she made him sip the camomile, making sure he got a good half of it down.

  Blaize watched her, his dark brows lowered. But his scowl eased as Terry’s weary head started to droop.

  Within minutes, the boy was sleeping peacefully in Leila’s arms. She held him for ten minutes longer, making sure he was fast asleep, stroking his hot forehead with cool fingers.

  When she was sure he was firmly in the land of dreams, she looked up at Blaize. His eyes were on her, deep and brooding. Beyond him, Tracey was standing in the doorway in her nightie, watching her with an expression so oddly like her father’s that Leila was startled.

  She nodded silently to Blaize to ease the blankets back, then lowered the boy into his bed. Terry curled on his side with a little whimper, but, after a few sniffles, was fast asleep again, his hands uncurling.

  Blaize tucked him in gently. Silently, Tracey slipped away to her own bedroom. Switching the light off, so that only the tiny glow of the night-light remained, Blaize took Leila’s arm and led her quietly out of the room.

  They went downstairs to the deserted lounge, where Blaize poured them both a whisky…, ‘That was pretty magical stuff,’ he said, dropping Ice in the crystal tumblers.

  ‘It’s very good,’ Leila nodded. ‘And it’s better than drugs, especially for a sick child.’

  ‘I wasn’t talking about the camomile,’ Blaize said gently.

  Leila smiled as she accepted the whisky, You think I worked some kind of spell on Terry?’

  ‘I saw you do it.’ He lifted his glass in a silent toast. ‘Anyhow, thanks for doing it.’

  ‘I’ll take some blankets into his room tonight.’ The whisky felt good, easing her tiredness. ‘I’ll be quite comfortable on the chair.’

  ‘No. You’re a honey, but my room’s just opposite, and I’m a very light sleeper―especially where the kids are concerned. You get some sleep.’

  ‘It’s no trouble to me,’ she assured him.

  ‘I don’t want you falling asleep over the computer tomorrow,’ he said with a touch of dryness. ‘But thanks for the offer. You’ve been very kind to the boy all this week. It wasn’t necessary for you to add being a nursemaid to all your other duties.’

  ‘Oh, I love children,’ she said lightly. ‘It was no hardship to spend a little time with your son.’

  He drained the glass at a gulp, then gave her one of those hard, direct stares. ‘If you love kids so much, why don’t you get married and have a few of your own?’

  ‘I might, some day.’

  ‘Not if you keep gallivanting round the world for Carol Clarewell,’ he said, pouring himself a second drink.

  ‘How will you ever meet the right sort of man? You’re going to wake up one morning and find that you’ve turned into one of those efficient office spinsters who never get married at all.’

  ‘Is that such a terrible fate?’ Leila asked lightly.

  ‘For you, yes,’ ‘he said, eyes on hers. ‘You were born for love and motherhood.’

  Squirming away from the topic, Leila asked, ‘Are you going to tell his mother that he’s got measles?’

  ‘His mother doesn’t give a two-penny damn about him,’ Blaize growled. ‘Nor about Tracey.’

  ‘That’s a hard thing to say,’ she protested.

  ‘I could say harder things if I were to have another couple of whiskies,’ he retorted. ‘The boy, frankly, was a mistake. I should have been warned by Vanessa’s reaction to Tracey. She was never a mother to the poor kid. She could never be bothered. After Terry came along, she just couldn’t wait to get out of the house quick enough each morning. That was when I really started seeing through my beloved wife’s character,’ he added acidly. ‘No, Leila, I’m not going to tell Vanessa that Terry has measles. She hasn’t seen him for thirteen months, and she hasn’t seen Tracey for nearly two years. Do you think a few spots are going to bring her running now?’

  She’d underestimated the bitterness that lay within Blaize. It was glittering now in the deep green eyes, cu
rling the passionate mouth into a curve of contempt.

  ‘Perhaps things will change as the children get older,’ she suggested hesitantly.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ he snorted. ‘You and I both know very well that some women just aren’t suited to motherhood.

  Probably something in the hormones. Most of them make some kind of effort, out of a sense of duty, or because of social pressures. But there are some mothers who have about as much mother-love as a female jellyfish.’

  He offered her the whisky bottle, but she shook her head. He didn’t pour himself a third, but capped the bottle and put it down. He was very controlled in his drinking, she’d noticed, and didn’t smoke.