No Provocation

by Weston, Sophie

  He laughed again. There was almost a reckless note in it. Candy stared up at him, frozen. His body moved against hers, explicitly. Candy gasped. She felt the blood rush into her face. In an agony of embarrassment she screwed her eyes tight shut.

  What was worse even than the super-cool Justin in this naked fury was the way her body was reacting. Even without kindness or chivalry or any sign of affection, her body responded to him, savouring the harsh caress as if she were a stroked cat. It appalled her. What sort of woman was she?

  Justin rolled away so that he was lying beside her, his hand sweeping over her very lightly and slowly. Candy could feel his eyes on her. She set her teeth, horrified at

  the sensations he was evoking. The trembling started deep in the core of her. His mouth touched her skin, softly, randomly, until she was screaming silently for more. Eventually she could bear it no longer. As he raised his head from a long, deceptively tender kiss, she reached for him.

  His breath caught and he moved over her. Candy's thoughts were spinning round on a crazy wheel: I must be mad; I don't know what to do; he'll be so angry; I want him. And then he touched her in a new way, and the wheel span off into outer space.

  Darkness with dancing lights beyond and great imprisoning walls closing her in. Her heart was racing so hard it hurt. She knew she was in deadly danger. Out of the blackness a figure came stalking silently towards her. She tried to press herself back into the wall, not sure if it was friend or foe, but horribly afraid. A waterfall cascaded somewhere behind her. She was so alone, so vulnerable.

  Candy fought her way out of sleep, her heart still crashing. Hell, she thought, what on earth was I drinking last night?

  And then the water was shut off and the door opened and closed with a dull thud that was altogether too close for comfort. Cautiously Candy opened her eyes. And then jack knifed up on the pillows in horror.

  Justin, in a shabby brown robe, was towelling his hair. He had all too obviously just come from the shower. He was watching her. In one comprehensive glance, Candy registered where she was and how she'd come there. Her hands came up to cover her mouth like a small child holding in a cry of shock.

  She dared a look at him. Justin's mouth was wry. He didn't seem any happier to have her there than she was to be there, Candy thought.

  But the cool sophisticate was back this morning. He flicked his fingers through the scarcely dry hair and folded the towel neatly lengthways. Then he dropped it over a radiator. 'Good morning,' he said calmly.

  Candy knew she was blushing. It did not help that he had the protection of his robe while she was very conscious of her nudity under the covers. She took what she hoped was unobtrusive hold of the sheet and anchored it firmly under her arms.

  `G-good morning,' she said in a small voice.

  There was wintry amusement in the dark eyes observing her manoeuvre. But he did not comment on it. At least he had that much chivalry left, Candy thought, resentment beginning to rise again.

  `Did you sleep well?' His voice was bland.

  Candy glared at him. For a moment their eyes met and held. Then Justin turned away with a small shrug.

  He was going through one of the wardrobes at the end of the room. He said casually over his shoulder, 'I'm late.'

  Candy looked instinctively at her wrist. Then, blushing, remembered that Justin had not even permitted her to keep on her wristwatch last night. She remembered how he had kissed all the way round her wrist as he'd peeled the simple leather strap away.

  She watched him under her lashes. Now he was selecting shirt and suit and tie and socks with all the speed and efficiency of a man who woke up every morning with a rumpled and seething wife in his bed. She could cheerfully have thrown something at him. Surely he could say something about what had happened?

  But he said nothing, dressing with an unembarrassed rapidity that made it very obvious that waking up with someone in his bed was a fairly ordinary experience for him. Candy found all her anger left her abruptly, leaving her feeling bleak.

  But she still had her pride.

  Lifting her chin, she said, 'I'm sorry you're late.' Justin turned, one of those wicked eyebrows flicking up. 'Are you?' He sounded amused.

  Candy refused to think about the desolation inside her.

  `If you don't need that robe any more, perhaps you'd let me borrow it. Just for this morning,' she added with some emphasis.

  Justin had raised his hand to toss the robe to her. At the rider he hesitated. Then his mouth quirked and he lobbed the thing across to her.

  `Of course,' he said smoothly.

  He watched unashamedly as she got up. Candy abandoned as soon as it was born the idea of huddling into his robe under cover of the sheets. That would only increase his hateful amusement.

  So she got unhurriedly out of bed, meeting his eyes proudly as she slipped her arms into the robe. He made a little movement of his head, as if acknowledging her defiance for what it was. Then he turned and went out.

  Candy sagged against the side of the bed in relief. She realised that her body was stiff and slightly hollow-feeling. She rotated her shoulder experimentally and winced. She and Justin had not been gentle with each other last night, she thought.

  She went over to the mirror on the inside of the cupboard door and slipped the robe off her shoulder. Yes, unmistakable on the pale skin of arm and shoulder-blade was a bruise.

  There was a small sound behind her. Candy turned.

  Justin was standing in the doorway. He was holding a mug of coffee. The aroma wafted across to her. He was looking at the image in the mirror. His eyes were very dark and without expression.

  But all he said was, 'Battle-scars?'

  Candy flinched from the casual callousness of that. For a moment she hated him with a ferocity she hadn't felt since childhood. She pulled the robe back up round her throat and closed the cupboard door sharply.

  `Don't you care if you hurt me?' she asked in spite of herself.

  Justin put the coffee down carefully.

  `Did I?'

  Candy shivered. You'll never know how much. She didn't say it. But Justin saw the movement and was quick to interpret.

  `I'm sorry if I was a little—enthusiastic.' He didn't sound sorry in the least. 'You should have told me it was your first time.'

  Candy gave a little laugh that broke in the middle. She picked up the coffee-mug and dipped her nose in it.

  `It wasn't very easy to tell you anything last night,' she pointed out.

  'Oh, I don't know. We had quite a conversation, one way and another. You had plenty of time to hand over the information that you were a virgin. If you wanted to.' Justin looked very cynical. 'But maybe you thought it would be a useful weapon to level at me this morning.'

  He put his hand on her shoulder and turned her round, coffee-cup and all, to face him.

  `Forget it, darling,' he said softly. 'You've been playing with fire for weeks. And you know it. And now you know that I know it too, maybe you'll behave a bit better.'

  Candy was rigid. His eyes were like black ice. There was none of that illusory tenderness that had seemed to be there, in the end, last night. The hurt was like a burn in her throat.

  She forced herself to drink some coffee calmly. Then she put the mug down, shrugged his hands off her shoulders and turned a cool face to him.

  `How clever of you, Justin,' she said. 'I will, of course, do anything to avoid a repetition of last night '

  Just for a moment she thought she had succeeded in getting to him. His head went back as if at a blow. But when she looked into his eyes she could see that he was laughing.

  `Then we understand each other,' he replied smoothly.

  He drew the back of his hand down her cheek. Candy stood absolutely still. Her eyes narrowed to slits with the effort of keeping back the pain that overwhelmed her at that insolent caress.

  She said sweetly, `Do that again and I'll throw this excellent coffee all down that fancy waistcoat of yours.'

&
nbsp; His eyes lit up with unmistakable laughter. He bent and feathered the lightest of kisses across her outraged lips.

  `That would be a pity. Especially as it's only just escaped champagne this morning.'

  Candy stared. 'Champagne ... ?'

  Justin laughed and kissed her again, his breath achingly familiar against her parted lips.

  `Think about it,' he advised.

  And was gone.

  It did not need a lot of reflection, after all. He had indeed opened a bottle of champagne. Jeremy was sipping at a tall glass when Candy went into the kitchen. Jeremy was an aspiring ballet dancer who paid for his training by doing housework. Up till then Candy had regarded him as a fellow spirit.

  Now she looked at the other glass on the draining-board and felt as if the whole masculine world was in league against her. She banged the mug down on the counter-top. Jeremy picked it up composedly and rinsed it under the hot tap.

  She said between her teeth, `If you say anything—just one word—about my private life, I'll turn you off without a reference.'

  Jeremy shook his head sadly. 'Oh, the power of the capitalist.' But he was grinning. 'Does that mean you don't want any fizz?'

  Candy looked at him haughtily. 'Why should it?'

  `Well, Justin was celebrating this morning, but you seem a bit less than festive,' Jeremy said frankly.

  Candy toyed with the idea of screaming until the ceiling fell in, and abandoned it. Jeremy wouldn't care, and Justin, who was really responsible, wasn't there. If he had been, he probably wouldn't care either. He might even, she thought, remembering that diabolic laughter, enjoy it.

  Jeremy patted her on the shoulder, not unsympathetically.

  `You'll be all right,' he assured her comfortably. 'You couldn't have gone on as you were. But you'll be all right with Justin. He's a good man.'

  And Candy found a glass of champagne pushed into her clenched fist. She choked, half laughing, half in tears. Jeremy raised his glass to her solemnly. She hesitated, then, shrugging, drank it down.

  Jeremy looked at her curiously over the top of his glass.

  `Going to start changing things?' he asked mildly. Candy stared. 'Changing things?'

  He grinned. 'Throwing out the old curtains. Making cushion covers. That's what they usually do. Nest-building.'

  `They?'

  `The ones who thought they fancied being Mrs Richmond, I suppose. Well, Liz Lamont, anyway.' `Oh.'

  Candy paled. She looked down into her drink. Liz Lamont was beautiful and poised and a success in Justin's world. If she had stayed here last night, Justin would have wanted her for herself, not her strategic shareholding or her family connections.

  If only last night had been different, Candy thought achingly; if Justin had made love to her because he wanted to, instead of because he was in a furious temper, if they had woken up friends... But that was all a dream. Justin had not wanted her last night and he did not want her this morning. He had been angry, nothing more.

  And in that anger he had revealed to her what she must have been running away from in her head for weeks—the fact that she wanted him quite desperately. Candy's head fell lower as she thought about it. She wanted to be in his arms; she wanted him to respond to her as she had responded last night, without reserve or hesitation; but, more than that, she wanted his friendship and his trust.

  His love. That was what she wanted. She had been blind. She was in love with Justin.

  She must have realised it last night when Dave was kissing her. Her mouth quirked. Not the best time for realising you were in love with your husband, she acknowledged.

  Jeremy looked worried.

  `Look, don't get the wrong idea. They work together and she's a very managing lady. They may have had a bit of a fling at one time, but it must have been long ago. I haven't seen her here for months.'

  Candy smiled wryly. 'It doesn't matter.'

  If anything, that deepened Jeremy's look of anxiety. But all he said was, 'If you say so. No furniture-moving today, then?'

  She shook her head.

  `OK. Up to you, love. I'll get on with the polishing, then. You let me know if you change your mind.'

  And he went whistling off through the flat.

  Candy knew that she could not take sitting and listening to Jeremy's tuneful housework. She scrambled into her clothes and left him to it, with a brief announcement that she didn't know when she'd be back.

  Her mother was in her pretty boudoir when she arrived. She looked up at once and smiled.

  `Hello, darling. You're looking pretty done-up,' Judith said frankly. 'As if you need to go through the night again.'

  Candy repressed a shudder. Again? And yet her treacherous body warmed at the thought of some of the things they had done last night. But then this morning Justin had walked out as if it meant nothing. No, she could not take another night like that.

  Judith's eyebrows rose. 'Problems?'

  `Nothing I shouldn't have seen coming,' Candy replied on a sudden spurt of bitterness.

  `What you need is a morning's shopping and a civilised lunch,' Judith said hastily—before Candy could tell her details, her daughter thought wryly.

  Candy gave a little laugh which broke in the middle. It was Judith's own unfailing remedy when Sir Leslie left home. Candy did not think it would do much for her own state of mind, but she felt too worn out to protest.

  Judith swept her through the smart dress shops that enjoyed her patronage with enthusiasm. Candy deflected all attempts to make her buy something she had no use for. She stayed immune to accusations that she was letting Justin down by looking so scruffy. But she was frankly grateful when they arrived at the small expensive restaurant that Judith favoured.

  She couldn't concentrate on the food, however. She ordered at random and ate so little of the delicious food that Judith was anxious.

  `Darling, there's no point in starving yourself. You'll make yourself ill and then where will you be? Men can't abide illness and fusses.'

  Candy pushed her plate away.

  `You're probably right. I'm just not hungry.'

  Lady Neilson's eyes narrowed. 'You're not having a baby?'

  Candy went scarlet. Her mother surveyed her for a long moment and then put down her own knife and fork.

  `What have you been up to, Candy?' she asked apprehensively.

  Candy shook her head. 'Nothing.'

  `Oh, yes, you have. You looked just then exactly as you used to when Nanny caught you playing with your father's briefcase.'

  `You're imagining it.'

  Lady Neilson rested her elbows on the table and put her elegantly manicured fingertips together in a steeple.

  `There are times when you can be amazingly irritating,' she said pleasantly. `If you've been trailing that long face and those disgraceful jeans round Justin's home—no doubt moaning about the disadvantaged at the same time—I'm not surprised if you've driven him to the end of his tether. Is that what happened?'

  Was that what last night was? The end of Justin's patience?

  Candy flushed. 'He hasn't asked me to stop going to the Homeless Centre,' she began evasively.

  Lady Neilson did not notice the evasion. 'And how much time have you been spending there?' `Well—'

  `Running away,' said Lady Neilson with maternal frankness. 'That's what you've been doing. He's too

  grown-up for you, that's the trouble. So you've dived back into that bunch of students and drop-outs and pushed your husband away. Haven't you?'

  Candy said hotly, `It isn't like that ...'

  But Judith was unheeding. 'I don't suppose he knew whether he was on his head or his heels, poor chap. He must have thought he was getting a reasonably civilised wife who'd entertain for him and make him comfortable, and look at you—dressing like Orphan Annie and behaving like an adolescent. If he lost his temper, I don't blame him.'

  `Thank you very much for your support,' Candy said grimly.

  Judith looked startled for a moment. Then she laug
hed.

  `I don't mean to be unsympathetic, darling. But you must grow up a little. You can't treat a man like Justin as if he were one of your soup-kitchen cronies, you know. He's used to certain standards—not least of behaviour.'

  Candy thought of the behaviour Justin had demonstrated last night, and laughed harshly.

  `He is,' she agreed.

  Judith obviously did not like the laugh or the expression on Candy's face.

  She said uneasily, `If he's said something ... I'm sure there'll be a reason ...'

  `Oh, there will,' agreed Candy. 'Justin never does anything without a reason.' She added almost to herself, `And there'll certainly be a reason for—last night.'

  Judith looked even more uncomfortable. She leaned forward.

  `Darling, marriage is a very difficult relationship. It's up to the woman to make sure that it stays on the road. Men get out and about so much more. The temptations ... We have to do what we can to make sure that they're not tempted ...'

  She trailed off. Candy was looking at her in undisguised disgust. But it was not Candy's scornful expression, or the outdated sexism of her own argument that brought the look of blank horror into Judith Neilson's face. She stiffened.

  `Isn't that—?' she said and stopped abruptly.

  Candy looked round without interest. In the corner a dark man was holding a chair for his companion. She looked up, placing a proprietorial hand briefly against his jacket. It was the possessive brunette in the red dress: Lizbeth Lamont. Candy shrugged.

  But as the woman's escort turned to take his own seat, Candy's heart squeezed. The elegance, the cool sweep of dark hair were unmistakable. It was Justin.

  He had his back to her. Lizbeth sat opposite him, clearly absorbed in her companion. Candy watched the lovely, troubled face and tried to tell herself there was no reason why Justin should not lunch with one of his employees.

  It was not much use. It did not look like a business meeting. Neither of them was pretending that their earnest conversation was anything other than personal. They were engrossed in each other. Lizbeth looked tired and strained. Justin touched her hand comfortingly. She was talking as if she couldn't stop.