As she relaxed, the evening suddenly became fun―more fun than she’d had in months. The stockbroker was displaced by two others in quick succession, though not before he’d had time to yell an invitation to a weekend at Henley over the music. What a joke. When was she ever going to get a weekend off at Henley?
The third was the most interesting so far―long-haired and outrageously dressed in a lime velvet suit, he turned out to be the head of an up-and-coming recording company in London. He talked knowledgeably about some of her favourite groups, and appeared to be on intimate terms with some of the most famous names in pop. She didn’t believe all his stories, some of which were very wild indeed, but he was different, at least, from the yuppie clones who were still chattering about the markets in stocks and used Porsches.
She spent the next hour dancing and talking with him, until he suggested taking her and a bottle of Blaize’s best cognac up to her bedroom, when she decided she didn’t want to be that different, and disengaged herself as deftly as she could.
Escaping through the crowd, she was confronted by a tall, moustached man holding out a glass of champagne.
‘I’ve been keeping this chilled for you all day,’ Jason Tennant said with a smile, ‘just as I promised.’
‘Now that’s what I call service.’ She laughed, accepting the drink. ‘Thanks, Jason. You’ve turned up in the nick of time.’
‘Was your friend in the velvet suit getting too pressing’ he enquired. The aspiring pop music magnate was retiring from the chase in the direction of the bar; Jason was almost as tall and broad as Blaize Oliver himself.
‘Well…’
‘He’s notorious,’ he told her as she hesitated diplomatically. ‘You’re much safer with me, I assure you.’
‘Thanks.’ She smiled, knowing he was being deliberately modest. He was a very handsome man in his quiet, confident way. He had the smooth class that went with a good education and a good job. ‘Actually, I didn’t want to hear any more about the rock music world. It sounds rather bizarre to me. Do you think it really runs on a river of booze, sex and drugs?’
‘Absolutely.’ Jason nodded. ‘I have a barrister friend who defends a lot of cases for the pop industry, and they’re a crazy bunch. They always have been. The
guy in the velvet suit is no stranger to the inside of a courtroom, either. Cocaine,’ he said succinctly as Leila raised her eyebrows. ‘He was lucky to get off. But something tells me you’re more into serious music. Am I right?’
‘I love all sorts of music,’ she told him. ‘But if I had to pick ten records for Desert Island Discs, they’d all be classical ones.’
‘Beethoven symphonies,’ he guessed, assessing her with deep brown eyes, ‘Mozart piano concertos, at least one Italian opera, and maybe…’ He tilted his head consideringly.
‘Would you include Bach? Yes. You’re cerebral enough to go for Bach.St Matthew Passion?’
‘Not bad,’ she smiled. ‘But you’ve left out Rachmaninov.’
‘Rachmaninov,’ he repeated. ‘Ah. The hidden romantic streak among all the classical tranquillity. A heady cocktail, Leila.’ He toasted her with a sparkle. ‘How did I do otherwise?’
‘Remarkably well,’ she admitted, unable to quite conceal her flattery at being paid so much attention. ‘You must be a mind-reader. Would your choice be similar?’
‘I’d have Shostakovich in place of Rachmaninov,’ he told her, ‘but otherwise, yes, my choice would be the same as yours.’
‘I’m not keen on the moderns,’ she said, making a face.
‘Nor am I,’ he agreed. ‘Not on the atonal crew with their horrible chords and peculiar scales.’ But Shostakovich is a great melodic composer… I’ll play you something some time that I guarantee you’ll love’ he promised.
‘I’d like that.’ Leila nodded.
‘Anyhow, what are we doing talking about classical music right now?’ He appraised her from head to toe, yet somehow, where the same inspection from Blaize would have raised every hackle in her body, from Jason it was a nice compliment. ‘You look stunning,’ he said warmly. ‘The belle of the ball. Care to dance with me?’
‘I’d love to,’ she smiled, and let him lead her back on to the terrace .
Jason danced well. She put his age at around thirty-five―young enough to be in her age-group, rather than in Blaize’s, but old enough to have an intriguing male authority. He had a deep, soft voice, yet he had no trouble in conducting a conversation with her over the hectic music. He must have developed skills of resonance in the courtroom, she decided.
He was not married, he told her, and was a junior partner in a very successful London legal firm, owned by his father. He had first met Blaize through Blaize’s ex-wife Vanessa.
‘You’ve never met her,’ he said reflectively, when they’d paused for a break and were sitting close together on the edge of the terrace. ‘Don’t judge her too harshly from what people say about her. The whole thing was a mistake, really. Blaize is a fundamentally serious person, which Vanessa never was. She never took to marriage, and certainly not to motherhood. She wanted her independence too much. She always blamed Blaize for putting an end to her acting career. She used to act under the name Vanessa Lamb,’ he added, and a light went on in Leila’s mind.
‘Vanessa Lamb! Is that who she was?’
Jason nodded.
‘I saw her play Eliza Doolittle in Pygmalion a few years ago,’ she remembered. ‘She was good. Very pretty, and very lively.’
‘Well, she was a lively actress, rather than a gifted one,’ Jason admitted. ‘She thought the theatre was in her blood, but what she really enjoyed was the excitement. She loved an audience. Also, I’ve always felt that Vanessa is the kind of person who doesn’t want the real world to intrude too much into her fantasies. Blaize used to complain that she was always expecting the scene to change, as though the world were a stage-set, designed for her entertainment.’
‘Yet she must have been a charming person?’
‘She certainly charmed Blaize.’ Jason nodded wryly.
‘He thought the world of her―until he finally found out what she was like. The breakup wasn’t his fault. He’d have put up with anything from Vanessa, if only she’d been a good mother to the children. But it was obvious that her influence on them―when she could be bothered to exert any influence at all―was prejudicial. The breakup upset them so much that Tracey ended up going to a child guidance expert for a spell of therapy.’
‘Ouch.’ Leila winced. ‘Poor child.’
‘She was only six or seven at the time. When the divorce was finalised, the judge had no hesitation in giving Blaize custody, and you know how rare that is. Terry was only a year old! The judge even left it entirely up to Blaize’s discretion as to when and how often Vanessa saw the kids.’
‘Does he ever try and stop her from seeing them, now?’
‘I doubt it. Vanessa was relieved, I think, to get shot of them.That sounds brutal,’ he admitted with a shrug, but I think that's the truth. Blaize would probably have to force her to come and see them, rather than the other way round.’
Leila digested this sadly. ‘She’s in Monaco now isn’t she?’
‘Yes. After she and Blaize separated, she took up with an elderly playboy, Count von Weckelmann. Minor European arrstocraey, but very wealthy. He lets her do as she pleases, and enjoys watching her spend his money, which is exactly the kind of set-up she needed. She’s very happy.’
‘The children must miss her.’
‘Yes,’ Jason agreed. ‘It’s a great pity that Vanessa is the way she is, because they’re nice kids.’
‘It's shocking,’ Leila couldn’t stop herself from saying angrily, If I had two lovely children like Terry and Tracey, I could never leave them like that, no matter what had happened … She must have no heart!’
'Not much of a heart.’ Jason smiled. ‘You look quite indignant, Have the kids touched your heart?’
She considered telling him about Tracey and
the airport, but kept her counsel. It wasn’t exactly ethical to be discussing her employer with one of his friends like this. But Jason smiled at her, encouraging her to go on with what she was saying.
‘Go on―speak your mind.’
‘Well … I can't help feeling sorry for them. They’re rather forlorn children, Blaize is so strict with them too’
‘He is. Still, remember he has to be father and mother to them.’ And he’s very concerned that they shouldn’t be spoiled.’
‘I know,’ Leila sighed. ‘But there are more ways than one of spoiling a child.’
'Agree .But how would you go about raising two children in Blaize s position? Have you any idea of just how many dangers there are for kids in their circumstances?’
‘The whole thing is that families shouldn’t split up in the first place,’ Leila said sadly. ‘It isn’t fair on the children.’
‘It never is. Come on, let’s dance.’
The next album on the turntable was a collection of slow jazz tunes, given a sultry blues treatment by a good female vocalist with a husky purr in her voice. Jason moved unselfconsciously to take her in his arms, holding her lightly but firmly against his tall frame. ‘Tracey certainly needs a mother,’ he went on. ‘She’s getting a bit of a handful these days.’
‘She seems to get on well with Katherine Henessey,’ Leila said obliquely, opening a whole new area of conversation.
‘Katherine is a mother-figure to them.’ She realised that Jason was caressing the naked skin of her shoulders, his fingers light and gentle. ‘I think Blaize is thinking of asking her to marry him.’
That old pain pierced Leila’s heart. ‘Do you?’
‘Mmm. She’ll make him a good wife, and the kids a loving mother.’
‘You like her?’
‘Mmm.’ Jason didn’t seem to want to talk any more after that affirmative, partly because his mouth was now pressed against Leila’s temple. His fingers were still wandering across her shoulders, his touch pleasant and warm.
With a little sigh, Leila relaxed in his arms. She could have given him a signal that he was moving a little fast for her―which he was―but she did not. For one thing, her thoughts were very much occupied with Blaize Oliver, and his family problems, and for another, it was very pleasant to be held like this; in strong male arms, while they swayed to the seductive music. It was a long time since someone as personable and charming as Jason Tennant. had paid her any attention, and it would be hypocritical to say she wasn’t enjoying it.
They danced without speaking for the next couple of tracks. Her mind had been casting back over the past weeks, from her fist, heart-stopping meeting with Blaize by the pootside, right up to their clash of swords this afternoon. There was no doubt that there was some chemical reaction between them. Usually, it manifested itself in sparks of anger; but sometimes, like when he’d kissed her, the reaction was a very different one―something much more interesting than mere antagonism. Something that made her stomach squirm inside her .
In your fantasies, you tended to make people something they were not. You forgot about their defects and enhanced their good aspects. When she thought about Blaize, she tended to remember the look in his eyes as he’d started educing her, and tended to forget that he’d been surveying Sally in the yellow bikini with exactly that same look, twenty-four hours later.
One thing you could never ignore about Blaize was his sexuality, The way he made you feel as he held you in his arms, his mouth seeking out the vulnerable erotic areas of your body…
She, snuggled a little closer to Jason. He was about Blaize's size and height. He even possessed something of Blaize s grace of movement. If she slid her arms round the broad shoulders, she could almost imagine that it was Blaize holding her like this. A Blaize who was gentle and caring, whose mouth was soft, instead of demanding, whose caress was loving instead of provocative.
And It was so convincing a fantasy that she shuddered lightly as the husky voice murmured, close to her ear, 'You're so lovely, Leila. I never dreamed I’d meet someone like you out here, someone so special.’
She closed her eyes, and laughed unsteadily. ‘Oh, I’m very ordinary, really.’
‘No, you’re not. You’re something very special.’
She arched slightly as she felt his hands caress the silky skin of her arms. It was a dangerous, foolish game-a game that was cruelly unfair on Jason. But it was too sweet to pull away; she couldn’t bring herself to stop it just yet, couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes and see that it was Jason’s face, and not Blaize’s, that looked down at her.
A warm hand touched her chin, raising it. She lifted her face blindly.
‘No,’ she whispered, ‘don’t—’
But it was too late to struggle. His mouth closed on hers, his kiss as gentle and firm as everything he did.
She surrendered to the moment, her body pressed to his.
Oh, Blaize, her mind cried, if only it were you …
But the mouth was too gentle, too undemanding to be Blaize’s. There was none of the thrusting fire of Blaize’s kisses, none of the excitement that made her pulses race.
The spell broken, she pushed away, panting for breath.
‘No, Jason. Please!’
‘What is it?’ he asked, frowning at her, his face flushed with what he was feeling.
‘I-I’m sorry,’ she said, confused and bitterly ashamed. ‘I’ve been very stupid. Please, forgive me. I didn’t want that to happen.’
‘You could have fooled me,’ Jason said, reaching for her again. ‘Just relax. I’m not going to hurt you.’
‘No.’ She fended him off. ‘Don’t think badly of me, but I’ve made―made a stupid mistake. It’s my fault. I’m sorry, Jason. Don’t be angry—’
The voice that cut into their exchange was deeper and harsher than Jason’s.
‘Aah, there you are,’ Blaize Oliver said, materialising at her side. He was smiling, but there was a dangerous green glitter deep in his eyes, like fire in an iceberg. His fingers closed round her slender arm with a steely force that made her gasp. ‘Sorry, Jason. Will you excuse me if I borrow my secretary for a spell?’
‘Well, it isn’t exactly an opportune moment, Blaize’ Jason said stiffly.
‘Too bad about the moment, I’m afraid,’ Blaize told him coolly. ‘This can’t wait.’
‘Now, just hang on a minute,’ the other man began angrily. ‘I was talking to LeiIa—’
‘Is that what it was?’ Blaize said with an unmistakable rasp.
‘Would you at least let me finish what I was saying to her?’
‘No,’ Blaize said flatly. ‘Seems to me you’ve said enough as it is.’
‘Damn it, Blaize!’ Jason said sharply. ‘You don’t own every woman in the house!’
‘No, but I own this one.’ Still holding Leila’s arm in cruel fingers, Blaize gave him a smile that was not a smile. There was no doubt in Leila’s mind that he was very angry indeed. She could feel it in the hand that gripped her, could almost hear it humming in him like high-tension cables.
‘If you weren’t my host—’ Jason’s fingers curled into fists.
‘Yes?’ Blaize enquired silkily. ‘If I weren’t your host?’
Big as Jason was, Blaize was bigger. Moreover, Leila realised with a feeling like swallowing an ice-cube, he was equipped with a jagged edge that Jason could never match. And Jason probably had no idea just how angry this man facing him was.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said to Jason in a strained voice terrified at the thought of a confrontation in the middle of the dance floor. ‘1―1 have to go.’
She pressed against Blaize, forcing him to move away. He led her through the crowd, leaving Jason standing with a frustrated expression among the dancers.
They went down the stairs, into the garden, where the chirp of crickets vied with the sultry music. ‘You’re hurting my arm!’ she protested in anguish.
Blaize did not so much release her as half fling her away from
him.
‘You little tramp!’ he said with cold fury. ‘I’m not good enough for you, but that smooth-talking son of a lawyer is?’
‘You had no right to cut in like that,’ she ground back at him. ‘You―you’re insufferable!’
‘And you’re a great little actress,’ he rasped. ‘All that pious talk about how moral you are, and all the nasty experiences you’ve had―and then I see you practically making love to a man you’ve never met before, in the middle of the dancefloor!’
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