Turbulent Covenant

by Jessica Steele

  Tiffany had a lift with Patti and Barry, and another man called Tim, who said he never brought his car when he went to parties. 'Can't afford to with the breathalyser,' he said, going on to tell her he was a sales rep. 'A year's ban on my licence would have me without a job.'

  She stayed with Tim for some time after they reached Patti's flat, and only when it dawned on her that he might think she was his partner for the evening did she excuse herself. 'I must circulate a little, Tim. Do you know everyone here?' Apparently he didn't, so she took him and introduced him to several people, and then headed for the kitchen.

  The kitchen was empty and there her pose of enjoying herself deserted her. That's just how I feel, she thought. Empty and lost without Ben. She turned, masking her expression as someone pushed through the kitchen door behind her.

  `Hello, Nick.' Strange how she could greet him so calmly, while at one time his very appearance would have made her feel all funny inside.

  `I've been looking all over for you.'

  `Have you?' She was shocked to find herself analysing his features. Good-looking, certainly, but wasn't his mouth a little slack—odd how she'd never noticed that before.

  `You're looking as beautiful as ever, Tiffy.'

  `Thank you.

  Nick Cowley wasn't used to anyone being aloof with

  him—her cool tones began to annoy him. 'You're not still mad at me, are you?'

  `Good heavens, of course not!'

  `We could have made sweet music together, Tiffy.'

  Only then did she perceive that Nick wasn't holding his liquor as well as he might have done. 'It was never on, Nick,' coolly yet sweetly. 'I'm going to join the others. Nice to have ...'

  `Not so fast—I think you and I have some unfinished business to attend to first, don't you?'

  Obviously he was going to be tiresome, and she eyed the door anxiously, wondering if she could get through it before he knew she had gone. He followed her glance and caught her roughly by the arm.

  `No, you don't. You owe me, Tiffy, and I'm a man who likes payment.'

  Tiffany tried to back away from him, but came up against the fridge. She wished desperately that someone would come in, and took her eyes off him long enough to glance at the kitchen door. In that instant Nick pounced on her and as he grabbed hold of her she felt the nauseating closeness of his suffocating, loose wet mouth. Kicking and struggling were useless as he fastened himself to her.

  `I've always wanted you,' he breathed hotly, 'and now I'm going to have you.'

  Her terrified, 'No, Nick !' rent the air.

  And then miraculously she was free. Dazed, shaking uncontrollably, she looked about, bewildered, saw Ben standing over Nick's prostrate form, and as Ben turned his hard-eyed grey look on her, her heart sank. She wanted to die as that merciless gaze raked her dishevelled appearance from head to toe. She wanted to say, Ben, Ben, thank God you're here. She opened her mouth to say the words, but the only words she uttered were :

  `I want to be sick.'

  Ben half carried her over Nick's prone body flat out on the kitchen floor, and pushed her into the bathroom, leaving her to get on with it.

  Gulping for air, Tiffany was sick, and afterwards struggled to sit on the edge of the bath. When she began to feel better, she pulled herself on to her feet, found toothpaste in the bathroom cabinet, and knowing Patti wouldn't mind if she used a squeeze to clear the awful taste in her mouth, felt better when she had wiped the toothpaste round her gums, but she could still feel Nick Cowley's lustful mouth on hers.

  `Are you all right in there?' Ben's growl reached her, then not waiting for her answer, he pushed the bathroom door. She found the flint hardness of his eyes difficult to meet, but raised her head bravely at his, 'Ready?' He meant was she ready to go home, of course, and weakly she wondered what he would have done if she said 'No,' but she was feeling too beaten to try it.

  `I explained the mess in the kitchen to your hostess,' he said contemptuously, 'when I told her you were leaving. There's no need to say your goodbyes.'

  Tiffany didn't begin to think clearly until Ben had put her into his car and they were on their way home. Her mind wouldn't cope with what he was doing back in England when she had thought him elsewhere, and she gave a groan as she remembered the note he had left in the flat.

  She saw Ben give her a swift look as her pained groan reached him, then his foot was pressing hard on the accelerator and they were speeding through the outskirts of London. He needn't feel so anxious about her wellbeing, she thought, she wasn't feeling sick any more. Well, not

  from that scene in Patti's kitchen at any rate, but at the thought he must have read her stupid note to know where she was. That stupid note that read, 'Dear Ben, Have gone to a party, starting at the Jolly Brewer and then on to Patti Marshall's. Do come if you can.' And she had signed it, 'Your wife, Tiffany'.

  She stifled another groan. Thank God it was dark and he couldn't see she was shrivelling up with embarrassment.

  He had not spoken since they had left the party, and as they entered the sitting room, Tiffany's glance flew to the mantelpiece. Her note had gone.

  `I ... I th-think I'll go straight to bed,' she stammered, raising her eyes to meet two chips of granite that were positively taking her apart.

  `I think that's a very good idea.' Ben's voice was expressionless as he took in her ashen face. 'I'll talk to you in the morning,' he said ominously, and left her standing in the middle of the carpet.

  Tiffany awakened early and as remembrance hit her, she found it impossible to go back to sleep. Slipping noiselessly out of bed, she donned her fluffy dressing gown and made for the kitchen. Ben was in bed still, but there was no getting away from it, she was going to have to face him some time.

  What was he doing home? He was probably exhausted since he must have been flying right up until shortly before he had come to the party—but he wasn't due in until Friday. The kettle boiled and with an absent mind she poured water into the teapot and waited for the tea to brew. Her mind still in turmoil, she poured out tea for herself and wondered if Ben was awake, and if so should she take him in a cup.

  Almost of their own volition her feet were at his door,

  a cup and saucer in her hand. She tapped lightly, but there was no answer. Silently she went in and stood staring down at him in sleep while conquering an overpowering desire to get into that bed beside him and hold him near. Grappling with her wayward thoughts and with a hand that shook, Tiffany placed the cup and saucer on his bedside table.

  She had barely made a sound, but Ben opened his eyes, and she saw him stare at her as though she was someone who had just stepped out of his dream. 'Tiffany,' he said softly. Then as if the sound of his own voice had told him he was no longer dreaming, he came wide awake.

  His softly spoken, 'Tiffany', gave her small courage a boost. 'I thought you m-might like a cup of tea.' How trite that sounded when what she wanted to do was beg his forgiveness for dragging him into that awful scene with Nick. She knew instinctively that Ben would find such a scene distasteful in the extreme.

  Awake now, Ben sat up and looked at her mockingly. `Thanks,' he said, and Tiffany, not liking the glint in his eye, turned and fled.

  She was on her second cup of tea when he joined her in the kitchen. He refilled his own cup before moving to lean negligently against the sink unit.

  `How's the head?' he asked.

  `I wasn't drunk, Ben.'

  One eyebrow lifted questioning her statement. 'No?' he queried.

  Oh, if only she could lose her temper with him it would be some sort of defence. But she was wary of him, she had never seen him in this mood, and with her note read, he held all the aces.

  had a sip of one drink at the pub, and another at Patti's place.'

  `Only two? Tell me,' he said almost conversationally, 'are

  you usually ill on just two drinks?' Tiffany didn't trust his tone. She wasn't sure, but thought there lurked a violent anger beneath his calm.


  `You know what made me sick,' she protested.

  `Surely your lover's passion doesn't make you throw up?'

  She knew with dead certainty from the way he said that that Ben Maxwell was flamingly angry. He was standing away from the sink now, his body taut, his brow looking like thunder.

  `He's not my lover,' she denied quickly.

  `You're in love with him.' Tiffany refused to answer, hoping his anger would bum itself out. 'You knew before you went to this party that Cowley would be there,' he accused.

  ... I thought he might be.'

  `So you wanted to see him.'

  `I did not!'

  `Why go, then?'

  How could she explain? How could she tell this angry man that he was the only man she loved, that it had been go to the party or go mad chasing her thoughts round wondering if he even liked her, let alone loved her?

  `You did want to see him,' Ben contradicted her, and went on remorselessly, 'You wanted to feel his arms around you, but when that happened and things looked like getting out of hand, you got scared.' His anger was biting into her. 'Am I right?' he demanded.

  He was so wrong, his fury was terrifying, and she could only stare wordlessly at him. She knew she should try and say something to take the heat out of him, but felt in his present mood he wasn't ready to believe anything other than his own interpretation of what he had seen. Her continued silence seemed to annoy him further, and she jumped, her heart thudding madly when he moved towards

  her, his hand coming down heavily on her shoulders, his grip so strong she was powerless to move. She tried to pull away as she saw the smouldering inferno in his eyes, but her efforts were no match for his strength, and for the first time in her life she knew the panic of outright fear.

  `Let me go, Ben,' she pleaded.

  `Does passion frighten you, Tiffany?' he asked, while he still had the last remnants of control, and as he felt her tremble in his hold, he said, 'Then I think it's about time you had something to be frightened about.' and his head came down, one hand coming up to clamp her head still as she moved it from side to side trying to get out of his range.

  She pushed against him with all her might, but her strength was vastly inferior and his mouth found the target he was seeking. There was nothing in any way chaste as he ravaged her lips, his mouth hard and demanding. Tiffany knew then that he was going to stop at nothing short of her complete surrender. She felt his hand at the back of her head, forcing her mouth against his, and fought as much as she was able when he moved with her and she found herself against the kitchen wall. Then the iron bar of the arm that bound her to him moved and while his lips still demanded her compliance, she felt his hand at her robe, untying it. His hand left her head and then both his arms were encircling her nylon-clad body, the feel of her warmth stoking the passionate fire burning inside him.

  Her protest of, No—Ben—please !' went unheard as his mouth left hers and he sought the hollows of her shoulders, his inflamed anger ignoring her pleas as her nightdress was ripped away and his mouth found the swell of her breasts. Tiffany felt the touch of his hands moving over her, against her will arousing in her an answering passion she found bewildering because she had never

  wanted it to be like this, and though she tried to deny her own awakening, when his lips again claimed hers his hands forcing her against his hard body, she could no longer fight the primitive urges he had aroused. Unable to stop herself, she wound her arms up and around him and pressed against his virile body. She was lost completely, unaware of his triumph at her capitulation, and was beyond comprehensive thought when he pushed her away from him.

  Her arms were still fastened over his shoulders, her hands clasped at the back of his neck, and only when he took hold of her wrists and dragged her arms away from him did it make itself known that having demonstrated the passion he had said she was so afraid of, having bent her will to his, he had no further use for his experiment.

  Hot colour surged through her face and she didn't know anything anymore except that she wanted to crawl away somewhere and die, when Ben said, Tor God's sake, girl, cover yourself up,' as though he was now loath to touch her. His words were ragged, and she realised then that while he had found sufficient control to break the passion that had been between them, that control was hanging by a very narrow thread.

  Mutely her eyes followed his burning gaze, and she saw, with a return of searing colour, what he could see the curves of her body still taut with the passion he had aroused, her breasts rising and falling with each raw breath, barely concealed in the torn fragments of her nightdress. Looking away from her body, she saw a nerve banging away in his temple and was incapable of any movement until his ragged voice came to her again.

  Tor your own sake, Tiffany, take yourself out of my sight—fast!'

  At his words and the meaning behind them, the shocked

  immobility that had her locked in its grip disappeared, and she went. Shaking from head to foot, she reached her room, barely able to recognise the person she thought she was in the person who had felt those riotous emotions only minutes before, and God help her, she hadn't wanted to leave him. Had he taken her, as she was sure had been in his mind, at that moment she would have given herself willingly.

  She sat on her bed waiting for her shaking to cease and had no idea how long she sat nursing her arms about her. But gradually she began to feel calmer and with the return of her other senses she sought for a reason why Ben should reject her when it had seemed at the start that nothing would stop him from what he meant to achieve. With the return of her common sense she realised she didn't have to think too deeply, for while she had been too far gone to count the cost, some part of Ben's mind had not been so deeply committed, and it came to her that very soon now his father would be well again, and when that time came Ben would want to be free to get his annulment. Had he carried out his inclinations an annulment would be out of the question, and although she wasn't very sure on the next point, she had an idea that one had to be married for two years before divorce proceedings could be instigated.

  Movement in the next room indicated that she could go and have her shower without the fear of bumping into him. She wasn't ready to face him yet, needed to have some measure of control when next she saw him. Luck was with her and she returned to her room to dress in a cream dress of fine wool. It had classic lines and fitted her perfectly. It helped to boost her rocky confidence to know that outwardly at least she looked cool and slightly remote. But it took all of her courage to leave her bedroom and turn the handle of the sitting room door.

  Ben was there as she thought he must be, for all had been quiet in the room next door when she had returned from her ablutions. His hair was still damp from his shower and he was clean-shaven, dressed in dark trousers and white polo-necked sweater. He stood up as she came into the room.

  `Come and sit down, Tiffany—we'll talk this thing out.'

  His voice was perfectly controlled, causing her to wonder if this was the same man who only a short time ago had been flushed with the dark tide of passion. Was this the same man whose very kisses had taken her to such peaks of ecstasy only to let her fall, her longing for him unfulfilled? And now he wanted to 'Talk this thing out' ! She should have known, of course—Ben Maxwell was the sort of man to scorn having any sweepings under the carpet.

  She crossed the room and sat down on the settee and Ben reseated himself in the chair he had been sitting in before she had entered.

  `I can't apologise for what happened,' he said, coming straight to the point, 'because given the same set of circumstances, I would probably do the same thing again. What I will apologise for, though, is for half scaring you out of your wits, and for that I am sorry.'

  Tiffany let his apology sink in, trying to evaluate what in effect he was saying. Was he saying he was putting her response down to the fact that he had frightened her so much her brain had seized up so that he thought she didn't know what she was doing? She felt relief well up within her
at that thought, and thought better than to tell him that had it been any man other than him holding her, nothing could have made her respond.

  -You were angry because you thought I was enjoying -er—what Nick was doing?' she asked, and receiving no reply reasoned for herself that it didn't matter a jot to

  him who kissed her, but while she bore his name he would expect more loyalty from her than what he thought he had witnessed last night. 'You were angry because you thought someone else might have come in and seen me in Nick's arms,' she said, sure now that was the reason for his fury. Ben was well respected at Coronet, and if he hadn't flattened Nick and dragged her away from the party, word would soon be buzzing round the Airline that he was a cuckold. His action would leave no doubt if word got out and it was talked about, that you only chatted up Tiffany Maxwell if you were anxious to receive a near broken jaw.

  `Angry is putting it mildly,' he said, not answering her-question into his reason for knocking Nick down. 'To put it bluntly, I was as mad as hell when I saw that oaf trying to devour you last night—I felt like doing you both a mischief.' The dark look on his face lightened, momentarily as though he was reliving the satisfaction of knocking Nick Cowley senseless. 'I would have sorted the matter out with you last night, but ...'

  `I wasn't drunk, Ben,' she broke in. 'When I was a child I used to be physically sick after one of my parents' more heated arguments—I d-don't seem to have grown out of it,' she added lamely, while wondering where the nausea was that should have gripped her after Ben had sent her scurrying. She looked at him, saw he was considering her words, and saw him nod as though he believed her. 'Actually,' she confessed in a rush, 'I wasn't going to go to Patti's party, but—well, I'd done all the jobs I could think of to do here, and—well, I was a bit fed up. It's the first time I've been to a party since our wedding.' She didn't want to tell him more than that, and saw with relief that she didn't' have to as a look of understanding crossed his face.