by Nicola West
'Sure thing.' The Americanisms were back again. He glanced at her. 'Okay, Linzi, you don't have to say it. I know what you're thinking.. . . But look at it my way. You know the situation at home. Dad can't do much now. Ceri—well, she could make the big time, but I doubt it. She's not really cut out for a top-line actress. Too much hard work! And someone has to keep the Court going. There've been Penrhyses at the Court for three hundred years, did you know that? Dad and his father let a lot of the land go, but they hung on to the house. And we mean to do the same. And that takes money.'
'I see.' Linzi decided to match his frankness with some of her own. 'And that's why Ceri wants Jason, isn't it? To help with the expenses.'
'Among other things, yes,' he grinned. 'Do you blame her?'
Linzi shrugged. 'It isn't for me to blame or not.' They were out on the open moorland now. 'But I don't see where I come into it.' She met Selwyn's eyes squarely.
'Because that's why you're here now, isn't it? Do you think you need to warn me off, or something? Now that the big' seduction scene's failed?'
Selwyn grinned unrepentantly. 'Something like that, yes. Ceri's really quite worried about you, Linzi, and I don't like that. Because we're very close, my sister and I. I like to see her get what she wants, especially when it's what I want her to have. We both want her to have Jason. And we don't intend to let you interfere with that.'
Linzi stopped and looked at him helplessly. 'But I'm not interfering! I'm Jason's model, that's all. I'll be going back to London in a week or two, perhaps even less. Ceri doesn't have a thing to worry about.' If only she did, her anguished heart exclaimed.
'Oh, give over, Linzi,' Selwyn retorted, sounding bored. 'I don't know who you're trying to kid, but no one's fooled. Anyone with half an eye can see that you two are head-over-heels about each other.'
'What?'
'You heard. If you're trying to keep it to yourselves for some reason, you're making a pretty poor job of it. Now, let's quit beating about the bush, Linzi. You're right, I didn't bring you up here to admire the pretty heather, and I'm not so thick I'm going to make another pass at you—not right now, anyway, though I might well have another go later on for my own amusement. ... No, I want to put something to you. A business proposition.'
'A—a business proposition?' The unease that had niggled at Linzi ever since she first heard about Selwyn came back to her. She felt again the prickle of fear she had felt this morning when he had suggested the walk. She stopped and Bracken, with a sigh, flopped down on the short grass at the side of the track.
'That's a good idea,' said Selwyn. 'We'll discuss this in comfort, shall we?' He chose a flat rock and patted it, inviting Linzi to sit beside him. 'Come on, I want you to look at something.'
Slowly, like a rabbit fascinated by a snake, Linzi sat beside him. She watched as he drew a packet from his coat pocket, her muscles tensed as he unwrapped it. And as its contents came into view she let out a long, pent-up breath. It was what she had been subconsciously dreading ever since his invitation this morning.
'You've seen it before, I see,' Selwyn said softly, and held it out; a particularly lurid American 'girlie' magazine, its pages gaudy with explicit and, to Linzi's mind, obscene photographs. Idly, he riffled through the pages, turning over picture after picture of girls in various poses, pictures that sickened Linzi; until he came to the centre page. And then he spread it open on his knee and looked at it with some attention.
'All right,' Linzi whispered. It was what she'd feared ever since she had left New York. It was why she had left New York—the shame, the disillusionment, the reason she had wanted to give up modelling. The whole degrading, sickening business. She had begun to hope that she had successfully left it all behind her—but here it was, rearing its ugly head to torment her and spoil her life all over again. 'All right, I suppose you won't believe me if I tell you those pictures were faked?'
Selwyn shook his head cheerfully. 'Wouldn't suit my book, would it? I don't imagine you can prove it, anyway.'
Linzi shrugged. 'If I could, I'd have taken the photographer to court. And the magazine. Don't think I didn't try. But they were just too smart for me.'
'They sure were.' Selwyn regarded the pictures almost with affection. 'Quite a scoop for that magazine, wasn't it? The pure Linzi Berwick. . . . You must have been thankful the story never got around over here.'
'Yes, I ‑' Linzi realised with a kick of terror what he was driving at. 'Selwyn, you wouldn't ‑'
'Wouldn't I?' he looked thoughtful. 'Now, I wouldn't be too sure of that. I just might, you know. Starting with the boy-friend, perhaps. ... And if that did no good, your agent—and Jason himself, of course.... But I don't really think any of that's going to be necessary is it, Linzi. You're going to co-operate ... aren't you?'
Linzi bowed her head. She knew that she had no choice. Jason—and Richard—must never—never—see these pictures. Even though they were faked, it was so cleverly done that she herself could not have said for certain where the face, the hands and ankles that were so recognisably hers merged with the body of the more compliant model. Nobody could be blamed for thinking that it was she who had posed with such abandon.
She remembered the horror of that time in New York when she had first seen the pictures, the sickening despair that had seized her. It had all been so innocent, too—at least on her side. A few poses for a charming young photographer, nothing out of the way, not a hint of anything wrong—and then this, bursting on her with all the unpleasantness of a bombshell. It was as if a cosy household cat had suddenly turned rabid.
And now the nightmare had followed her to England. With her career beginning again, with Richard's proposal and the security promised by marriage, she had thought herself safe at last. She had begun to put behind her the fear of someone seeing those photographs and recognising—or believing they had recognised—her. But it wasn't to be. Looking up into the smiling, ruthless face of the man beside her, she knew that her fears were to prove all too real….
'What do you want me to do?' she muttered, her voice dull.
'Well, what do you think? Just get out of our way, that's all. Remove yourself, Linzi my dear. Take yourself back to London, marry your nice dull banker, live happily ever after. It's not really a lot to ask, is it?'
Not a lot? To run out on Jason for the second time? To leave him in the lurch once again? To ensure that, this time, their relationship would be destroyed for ever, with no hope of repair? The tears came to her eyes as she recalled his gentleness that morning, his kisses only a few days ago. There had been strain between them since, but might that not have been mended? And now—now there was no hope. No hope at all. For she knew that she had no choice.
'You hold all the cards, don't you?' she said dully. 'You know I'll have to go.'
'That's the general idea,' he agreed. 'If you want to keep that pure, virginal image of yours unsullied. It's up to you, Linzi dear.'
'And what about Jason? His work—he needs me for that.'
'Now, you don't really believe that, do you?' he-asked. 'You know as well as I do it's just an excuse. Jason can manage perfectly well without you now, Linzi. He's done the master, hasn't he?'
'He wants me to pose in a robe, a caftan,' Linzi began, but Selwyn shook his head.
'Not necessary. Jason's a good enough sculptor to add a few flowing draperies where required. Quite frankly, I'd be surprised if he did. I had a quick glance through the studio window this morning—and I think it'd be a crying shame to hide that pretty figure.' His eyes went down to the magazine still open on his knee. 'And it seems I'm not the only one to think so.'
The sick fear in Linzi's heart was replaced by a sudden surge of fury. The worst had happened—the one thing she had dreaded above all others—and there was nothing left for her but humiliation. But she still had a right to be angry, and the emotion swept through her like a cleansing draught of fresh air in a smoky room.
With a quick movement she grabbed the magazine and rippe
d it apart. The pages, torn into shreds, fluttered from her hands and fell among the heather, but she couldn't leave them there to pollute the mountainside. With shaking fingers she gathered them all up and stuffed them into her rucksack.
Selwyn laughed, a note of genuine amusement in his voice as he said. 'That won't do you much good, Linzi. Think it's the only copy?'
'No, I don't think that. I just wanted to show you what I thought of your—your filthy pictures and your filthy proposition. All right, Selwyn, you've won. I'll go back to London and leave the field clear for your precious sister. But you needn't think you've beaten me entirely. I can still think—and I can still see you for the dirty, conniving little rat you are.' She glanced around at the rolling hillsides, the royal colours of the heather and the gorse. 'You don't deserve all this beauty, Selwyn Penrhys. You say you love it—or I suppose that's why you want to keep it—but I don't understand how you can, and still act the way you do. But there's nothing t can do about it. I can only go, and hope that by going I'll have prevented at least some of the corruption, some of the rot you've brought here.' She stood up and looked down at the handsome man at her feet. 'Don't bother to come any further, Selwyn. I'd rather finish my walk on my own, or just with Bracken—he's better company.'
Selwyn didn't follow her as she went on up the track, bitterly aware that this could be the last time she would walk here. But the sour taste the encounter had left remained in her mouth, and she knew that it would be a long time before she recovered from the unpleasantness of his threats.
By the time Linzi returned from her walk she had, to some extent, come to terms with the fact that she must leave Bron Melyn. Her unhappiness had grown with the knowledge that this time there would be no return. The feeling she had discovered in herself, the love she had for Jason, must remain for ever in her heart, a secret that even he would never know. She would have to go away, knowing that she was unlikely ever to see him again, knowing that this time he must surely hate her for her apparent double rejection of him. Knowing that there was nothing left for her but a safe, dull marriage with Richard. ...
But was there even that? Could she marry Richard now, knowing that she didn't love him—had never really loved him? He had never represented more than an escape, she realised, a way of life that would take her out of the stresses of modelling and give her security, a home and family. Could she still take it, after these stormy weeks with Jason? Did she even want to?
She recognised that Richard's love for her hadn't been any more passionate. He had been quite objective about it, she saw now, and quite honest. He too had wanted a home and family, the kind of background a man in his position might be expected to have. A beautiful wife to be his hostess, to entertain, to be at his side when he attended social functions. Love, as Linzi knew it, hadn't entered his calculations simply because they were calculations. Perhaps he had never actually experienced it.
She wouldn't be cheating Richard if she married him, knowing that she didn't love him. She would be able to give him what he wanted. They might even have a reasonably happy life together. But wouldn't she be cheating herself?
Yet—if she didn't marry him—then a home and family would never be hers. Because no other man would ever be able to offer her more than Richard did. No other man could ever replace Jason.
The house was empty when Linzi at last let herself in. She wandered slowly through the rooms, noticing again the conversions that Jason had made in the old farmhouse; the comfort, the good taste. She could be happy here. . . . But that dream was over, if it had ever existed. It was Ceri who would live here with Jason. Ceri, with whom he was at least half in love; Ceri, who was determined and pretty and used to having her own way, and likely to get it yet again. Unless, of course, they went to live at Penrhys Court. But before that happened, Linzi would be gone— gone and forgotten.
In her bedroom, she looked helplessly round, not sure just where to start. She knew that Selwyn's threats had not been empty ones—he meant her to leave Bron Melyn, and the sooner the better. Now, with the house empty, had to be the ideal time. But unhappiness had brought a heaviness to Linzi's limbs, a reluctance to start the packing that meant the end of everything for her.
Well, it was no use putting it off. Unpleasant jobs were always best tackled at once. With grim determination, Linzi lifted her suitcases down from the top of a wardrobe. Hardly caring about creases, she began to empty the wardrobe of clothes and stuff them in. . . .
The room looked denuded when she had finished. Only a few tissues in the waste-paper basket, the crumpled bedclothes and a used towel in the bathroom showed that she had been here. She stood looking round, suddenly despondent. It wouldn't be long now. But after the walk on the hill in the humid heat and the flurry of packing, she felt hot and sticky. She would have a shower before she left. Even Selwyn wouldn't begrudge her that.
The tepid spray refreshed her and she stayed under it, letting it soak her hair and wishing that her worries could be washed away as easily as the stickiness of her body. Misery invaded her. If only she'd never come here! She would never have known her true feelings for Jason, never have had to face the humiliation from Selwyn, never have had to question her feelings for Richard. She should have taken his advice in the beginning, she reflected bitterly. He had been right to have doubts. And she wondered again just why Jason had brought her here. Was it just for the sculpture—or did he have some other reason?
Well, there was little use in speculating now. Deciding that she had been in the shower long enough, Linzi stepped out and wrapped herself in a large, fluffy bath towel before wandering back into her bedroom.
And saw Jason Carver, his huge muscular body rigid with anger, standing in the doorway.
Linzi swallowed and stepped back involuntarily. But before she could escape into the bathroom, Jason had made one stride to cross the room and had her in his grasp. Trembling, she looked up at him, her topaz eyes wide with panic. But his gaze was hostile, the lines of his face harsh, his mouth set in a grim, hard line, and she knew that there was to be no pleading with him this time.
'And just what's going on now, Linzi?' he grated. 'Running out on me again, are you? You make quite a habit of it, don't you? Only this time you're not going to get away with it so easily. You're going to stay here and face up to me and tell me just why you find me so repugnant!'
Linzi quivered between his hands. Why had she taken that shower? she asked herself despairingly. She could have been out of here by now, heading back towards London, the whole unhappy business behind her. Now what was she to do?
'I'm waiting for an answer,' Jason growled, and his hands tightened on her wet, bare shoulders.
She bit her lip. She was acutely aware of the towel that was her only covering. Jason drew her closer and she felt the heat radiating from his body, through the thin cream shirt he wore. As her breast touched the wall of his chest she was conscious of the strong beating of his heart, and her head swam.
'Jason, I can't explain,' she whispered. 'Let me go, please. It—it's better this way.'
'You expect me to accept that?' The harshness in his voice was terrifying and Linzi squirmed against him in her efforts to escape. Her movements brought a quickening of his breath, and he held her hard against his body, one hand forcing her head back so that she had to meet his eyes. 'Linzi, tell me the truth. What's got into you? Why have you decided to go?'
'Don't pretend you want me here!' she flashed. 'We've done nothing but fight ever since I arrived. You've never forgiven me for that first time, have you? That's why you brought me here—so that you could torment me, so that you could play with my feelings like a cat plays with a mouse, letting me go a little way, then dragging me back again—you don't want me yourself, Jason, but you don't want anyone else to have me. Not Selwyn, or Richard, or anyone! Let me go,' she sobbed, the tears pouring down her cheeks. 'Please, please let me go!'
'Why should I?' His hands were cruelly tight on her shoulders. 'Tell me that! Why should I let
you go, let someone else have you, someone who just happens along and takes your fancy? Haven't I waited for years? Didn't I have to wait for you to grow up? Wasn't it enough that you threw me over five years ago, for no good reason, and I've had to wait patiently ever since? Well, my patience doesn't last for ever, Linzi, and now I ‑'
'There was a good reason,' she interrupted frantically, aware that it was now only the pressure of his body against hers that kept the towel in place. 'I had to go, Jason, don't you understand? We were getting married for the wrong reasons—because you wanted to take care of me, yes, because you'd made a promise—because I had a schoolgirl crush on you. But not because we loved each other— not as adults should love. Don't you see that? Don't you know that's true?'
Brilliant blue eyes stared into hers. A strong, square hand slid up her back, moving slowly over the warm, damp skin to lift the tangle of wet chestnut hair away from her neck, fingers winding themselves around in it. A change came into the expression on the ravaged face, a tenderness that smoothed out the harsh lines and softened the diamond-hardness of the eyes. With his other hand, Jason touched her cheek, letting his fingers trace the outline of her face, and the fire from his fingertips ran down her neck and into her body, so that she quivered again— not with fear this time, but with a warm rush of desire that left her giddy.
'So we didn't love as adults should love?' he murmured. 'Well, maybe you're right there—though I was adult enough. But now we're both grown-up, aren't we? Grownup enough to put an end to this crazy warring between us, adult enough to admit what's really going on.' His lips came close to hers as he whispered: 'I want you, Linzi, and you want me. We've been this way ever since the moment you first walked into the house—don't let's deny it. We've lost five years—-we can't afford to lose any more. Linzi. . ..' With a swift movement he whipped the towel away and flung it aside, leaving her naked. 'Don't let's waste any more time.'
Linzi closed her eyes as he lifted her from her feet and carried her over to the bed. This time, his movements were gentleness itself as he lifted the covers and laid her oh the sheet. But he didn't cover her again. Instead he stood looking down at her, and Linzi opened her eyes to see reverence on his face as well as desire.