It was her car. She had driven them over because she knew the way. She stared at him now.
`Why? You didn't complain about my driving coming here.'
`I thought you were tired,' he said, amused.
Candy bit her lip. 'Not as tired as you,' she replied gruffly. `Get in. I do this run every night. I can do it in my sleep.'
`Very reassuring,' Justin said drily. But he slid into the passenger seat without argument.
When they got home she muttered, 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have ... Dave sometimes isn't very—subtle.'
No,' he agreed after a pause. There was an odd note in his voice. 'As you say. How long have you known him?'
Candy thought it over. 'Oh, about eighteen months, I suppose. I met him at the Centre.'
Justin turned his head against the head-rest. She could feel his eyes on her.
`So it wasn't David Tresilian who introduced you to the Homeless Centre?'
Candy shook her head. 'It was one of the nurses who used to come and look after Gran. And then I seemed to be useful, so I kept going back. I didn't really get to know Dave until he came on the run with us one night.'
`He doesn't usually?' Justin's voice was idle.
Candy shook her head. 'He's the administrator. He's there all day. He co-ordinates and mans the phones in the evening.'
`So what was different about this evening?' There was steel in the quiet voice.
Candy shifted uncomfortably. She sent him a sideways look.
`I think you know,' she said drily. She bit her lip. 'Dave sees you as a possible benefactor. You're a rich man and the Centre is falling apart.' It sounded bleak put like that. A little desperately she added, 'You can't blame him It's not a glamorous cause. And the problem is getting worse all the time.'
For another long, silent minute Justin did not speak. When he did, what he said astonished her.
`Do you want me to give them money, Candida?'
She looked away, moistening her lips. Did she? She said with care, 'I don't want you to do anything you don't want. Or think is right.'
`But what if I want to do something that you don't want?' Justin asked, half under his breath.
She drew a shaky breath. On a panicky note she said, `I don't understand.'
`Don't you?' All of a sudden he sounded impossibly weary. 'Maybe I'm not thinking straight.' His voice was dry. 'It's been a—full day. Come on, let's get to bed. You must be tired too.'
She was, of course, but it did not mean that she could sleep. She lay awake, turning and turning, pulling the pillows into misshapen bricks round her. She could not get that last disturbing exchange out of her head.
Did he mean that he would support the Centre if she asked him? And, if he did, what did that imply in its turn? Was it a bribe? And if so, what did he want in return?
Candy turned over again, pushing the hair away from her hot face. She was aware of a strange trembling at the thought of the price Justin might want to exact. But if he wanted her, why not say so? Damn the man. He became more difficult to read every day.
But he was no easier in the morning, already dressed and nearly gone by the time she surfaced. He had shadows under the dark eyes. Candy felt guilty about that. But Justin waved away her apologies, kissed her briefly on the cheek, and left.
Another empty day. She went to the Centre in the early afternoon and worked so hard that she could put it out of her mind
Unusually, Dave came on the rounds that night as well. It was bitterly cold and the bottled gas flame under the hot soup in the van kept flickering. Candy did what she could to keep it warm, but her heart went out to the people she served as they tried to warm their hands round the polystyrene cups.
`Getting worse,' one of them said. He was young, probably not much older than Candy herself, but his
rags and stubble of beard made him look ancient. He was shivering all the time.
`Been a mild winter,' remarked one of the others, stoically. 'We been lucky.' He flashed Candy a smile for the bread and cheese she gave him. 'Thanks, ducks.'
`Mild?' echoed the other one disbelievingly.
`This your first year? You wait.'
The younger man shook his head. He looked as if he was going to cry. He took his food and shambled off. His companion looked at Candy and shrugged.
`Pity. Took to drink. Lost his job. Girlfriend kicked him out. He's off the booze now. Can't afford it, can he? But he's not going to get a job looking like that. No address nor nothing.'
Candy was chilled. 'What will happen to him' Another shrug. 'Depends how angry he gets. We all get angry after a bit. Most get over it.'
She said, 'And that's it? No hope of anything else?'
He drained his soup. 'Can't afford hope. Gets you hurt.' He put the disposable cup carefully back on the van counter and wandered off, a hand raised in salute.
She tried to talk to Dave about the young man that evening. Dave, however, had other ideas.
`I told you—you can't afford to get involved,' he told her, almost impatient. 'Look, there's something I need to talk to you about. Give me a lift to Kensington. I'll walk from there.'
He had never asked her before. Candy hesitated a second. Then she shrugged and led the way to her car.
He talked non-stop. He wanted her to join the committee. He wanted her to take some training. He wanted ...
She stopped the car at the all-night bus stop that was close to the flat.
`Hell,' said Dave Tresilian in the first natural voice she had heard from him all evening, maybe for weeks, `I want you, Candy.'
And he dragged her towards him across the front seat.
For a moment she was paralysed. She could not believe it. A long time ago she had wondered what it would be like to have his love—even dreamed about it. Serves me right, she thought, alienated by the grasping hands, by the need that she did not share. It was like Tom Langton all over again.
She fought herself away from him
`Dave, please ...'
He let her go at once. He said, 'I should have known earlier. I should never have let you go to that cold fish. I should have realised . . ?
`Dave .. .'
`Was it because I was so blind, Candy? Was that why you married him?'
The awful irony, thought Candy, was that if he had come with her to her mother's party, as she had asked him, she would probably not have been sent off to get rid of Justin. And then wouldn't have had dinner with him, or kissed him or fallen in love... Fallen in love with him? With Justin?
She said at random, 'I don't think you've the right to ask that.'
`So you did.' It was half triumphant, half a groan. `Oh, Candy.. .'
As he lunged for her, she slipped out of the car, slamming the door. It left him looking a little foolish. He stopped. Then, head bowed, he too got out of the car and stood looking down at her.
`I'm not going to leave it like this, you know.' His voice throbbed.
She did not know how to reply. After a moment he stalked with dignity to the bus stop. Candy gave a small gasp and fled for the flat.
Candy let herself in with a sigh of relief. She dropped the tote bag on the floor and leaned back against the closed door, drawing a deep breath. In spite of the warm clothes she was shivering.
Dave's kiss still lingered on her lips. Odd that it had seemed so strange—almost frightening—when she had loved him for so long. She put the back of her gloved hand to her mouth. That too felt strange, as if it were no longer her own. She ran her tongue experimentally round her cold lips. They tasted of the night air.
She heard a sound and her eyes flew to the stairs. At the curve, looking at her over the banisters, was Justin. As their eyes met some odd expression flickered across his face. In spite of her tiredness, Candy came away from the door like a rocket, her spine straightening.
Justin ran lightly down the stairs. His feet made no sound on the carpet. It was, thought Candy swallowing, almost menacing, that swift, silent approach. He stopped on the bot
tom step and tipped his head on one side.
`Exciting night?' he asked coolly.
For no reason at all that she could think of—he could not have seen that kiss after all—Candy flushed.
`Busy,' she said curtly. 'There seem to be more people on the streets every week.'
`Upsetting for you.' He was watching her.
`Yes.' She bent and picked up the tote bag. It was almost too heavy to lift, and she staggered. 'I'm very tired,' she added.
At once he was beside her, taking it from her nerveless fingers as if it weighed nothing. He looked down into her face, his expression unreadable.
`You don't look tired,' he told her softly. 'You're sizzling with something. Have you been holding hands with the Viking?'
Candy's head went back as if he'd hit her. Her eyes flew to his, unguarded and full of dismay.
`I see,' said Justin, still in that soft, amused tone that she hated. 'Interesting. I hadn't had you down as a cheat.' Candy winced. 'It's not like that.'
`Then tell me what it's like,' Justin invited. His expression was polite but there was no warmth in his eyes at all.
She cleared her throat. 'It just—happened. I didn't mean to ... to . ..'
`Yes?' he asked unhelpfully.
Her eyes fell. 'Oh—to do anything about it.'
She thought he made a small movement, quickly stilled, as if he'd burnt himself Candy looked up quickly but he was already in command of himself. She might have imagined it. His gaze was bland.
He said in an even tone, 'You ought to remember, Candida. You promised me no provocation.'
She bit her lip. He must have second sight, she thought wryly. There was nothing to say. Any excuses would only get her deeper into trouble. So she set her teeth and said nothing.
Justin let the silence stretch until she could have cried with tension. She could hear the clock ticking on the landing above them. He did not move.
At last he gave a little shrug and asked, 'Nothing to say?'
Candy gave a small choke of laughter. She knew she was on the edge of hysteria, but even so she was pleased. It sounded as if he did not know how to deal with her. Presumably he was not used to people enduring his silences as she did. It slightly evened the odds between them. If she could withstand that, possibly his strongest
weapon, she might yet manage not to be subdued utterly by her clever, manipulative husband.
Justin's eyes narrowed. But he said in a tone of absolute normality. 'Maybe you need a drink. Let's go upstairs and talk about it.'
He gestured for her to precede him. She did, grasping the banisters as she mounted the stairs. She was more tired even than she had realised, Candy thought. The muscles at the back of her calves were screaming. Her very bones felt as if they were made of cement. How could Justin say she did not look tired?
But in the sitting-room he tossed her bag on to a chair and, without asking her what she wanted, poured her a cognac.
`Your coat,' he said, holding out his hand for her jacket.
Candy gave him her jacket. She could not suppress a little superstitious shiver. It felt as if she was surrendering armour of a sort. She was almost certain he saw that.
`Drink your brandy,' he told her.
She raised the glass, grimacing as the pungent stuff hit her throat. He stood over her, watching her.
Now,' Justin said softly when she had finished, 'I think we'd better rewrite the ground rules here.'
Candy stared at him. He gave a lop-sided smile, taking the balloon glass away from her.
`Don't you want to tell me about the irresistible force?' he mocked. 'You were saying something about not meaning to cheat on me, I think.'
She was shaken by anger suddenly. 'It's not cheating—' she began, but he interrupted.
`No? What would you prefer to call it?' The soft voice
was like a whiplash, the contempt undisguised, 'Love?'
His eyes were narrowed. He looked like a dangerous
animal on the hunt. But Candy was indignant as well as
tired, and the encounter with Dave had shaken her more than she knew. She had got beyond being wise.
`Love? You don't know the meaning of the word,' she flashed.
He drew in a sharp breath. And then he laughed. For no reason at all Candy's blood ran cold. He put down his own glass on the cabinet. The small sound was like an avalanche in the silent room.
`I think you'll find you're wrong,' Justin said quietly. And, before Candy could move or even think, he took her into a fiercely adult embrace.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CANDY did her best to push him away but he was too strong. Too strong, she realised—and too angry. The immaculate calm had gone, and in its place was something close to a volcano. The change in him was frightening.
She tore her mouth away.
`Let me go.' She was panting.
Justin did not bother to answer. Instead he tipped her back over his arm. She leaned away from him until she thought her back would break, but nothing could gainsay the slow, insolent passage of his mouth down her taut throat.
She put her hands flat against his chest, bracing herself.
`Don't.'
He did not give any sign of hearing her. Through the light cotton of his shirt she could feel his heart. It was racing.
Her heart began to swim. Justin's hands at her waist felt like steel. He was virtually carrying her. His lips were like fire against the exposed skin of her neck. She arched away. The pressure on her spine became excruciating.
Candy made a small sound of distress she was hardly aware of, as her knees buckled. Competently, Justin scooped her up. His mouth did not leave her flesh, but she felt him straighten, turn ...
She breathed out, shaking her head to clear it. As the mists dissolved she was dropped unceremoniously. She looked wildly round. She had been deposited in the
middle of the great bed she had slept in the first time she spent the night here.
`Oh, dear lord,' said Candy involuntarily.
Justin looked down at her. His eyes glinted. `Surprised, Candy? Surely not.'
Mutely, she stared at him. It was only now that she registered what he was wearing—the crisp shirt with its uncharacteristic embroidery and the dress trousers told their own tale. He had discarded the bow-tie along with his jacket, but still it was obvious. He must have gone out to some official dinner. Alone?
He was smiling. It was not, she thought, a nice smile. `I rang. Several times. You must have been at the
Centre for over fourteen hours,' Justin said mildly.
It was a mildness that sent shivers down her spine.
Candy backed into the pillows.
`There was a lot to do.'
She couldn't remember a thing she had done all day, except for those unpleasant minutes in the car with Dave. She bit her lip. From his ironic look, Candy suspected he guessed it.
`Your devotion impresses me,' he said softly.
There was nothing in the gentle voice or the unreadable expression to hint that anything very much at all had upset him. Candy wondered how she knew that he was fighting mad. And why it scared her. She shut her eyes.
With a practised flick of his fingers he unthreaded a set of cuff-links and shook out the sleeve. It was an ordinary enough gesture, but Candy felt her throat tighten as if he had shaken his fist at her. She watched the cuff fall over the supple, long-fingered hand and began to shake.
`Justin,' she said on a breath.
He sounded like a judge about to give sentence. 'You look—transparent.' His voice was very level. A second
cuff-link joined the first on the bedside table. 'Only, you tell the truth so it works like a lie. And you don't — quite—cheat because you don't—quite—promise what you seem to have promised.' He shook his head at her. `It's clever, but it won't do, my dear. You have to play the same rules as the rest of us in the end.'
The savage note in the quiet voice was unmistakable now. He was unbuttoning the shirt, his fin
gers clumsy. Candy had never seen him clumsy before. He did not take his eyes off her white face.
`It's a shame. I thought you were different. More fool me.'
He threw the shirt away from him with a movement that was a declaration of battle. Candy went cold. He put one knee on the bed and leaned forward. She closed her eyes rapidly against that glittering scrutiny.
`You don't look like a cheat,' he mused. 'But then, you don't look very married either. We must change that.'
She gasped. But it was lost in the hot frenzy of his kiss.
There was a brief, violent interlude while he wrenched her out of her clothes. Candy was shivering so much that she barely fought him. She was horrified by the storm she seemed to have unleashed.
That Justin—cool, self-possessed Justin—could strip her with this cold ferocity was horrible. She had never seen him anything but in control before. He would hate being reduced to this, she knew. There was no trace of his normal courtesy. No chivalry. He treated her—looked at her—as if she were his enemy. As if he despised her. Candy fought back in panic, her mind racing. When he calmed down and looked back on this, he would be appalled, she realised.
She began to struggle then. Too late. They were both naked and Justin's eyes were alight with a devil's laughter.
Candy tried to hide the shakiness of her voice. 'Look,' she said, trying for a reasonable tone, 'you'll regret this, you know.'
Justin had one hand on each of her arms, holding her down easily, watching her. He shook the hair out of his eyes.
I've never really seen him with his hair disarranged before, Candy thought with a pang.
He laughed down at her, his face full of that dark and secret amusement.
`I doubt it.'
The tanned, taut skin, so unlike her own, was hot. She felt his closeness would suffocate her. Candy turned her face away, her breath coming unevenly. She tried not to look, but the bunched muscles in his shoulders spoke uncompromisingly of a strength she had never even thought about.
The dark head bent, and he kissed her lingeringly. Her whole body jerked in astonished protest.
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