Fever Pitch

by Sarah Holland

  And now? She sighed, angry with herself. She had helped to drive him back into the world he had escaped from, and gradually he was re-erecting all the old barriers, the old masks. She had to help him stop it before it was too late. It was the barrier that was stopping her reaching inside him again, getting through to him.

  Jacey came for her the night before the wedding to help her move her things out of the flat.

  'What have you got in here?' he asked as he struggled with an enormous blue suitcase. 'A corpse?'

  She shook her head, smiling tentatively.

  'Two corpses?' he asked, brows raised with amusement.

  She laughed, watching as he bumped it down the stairs with difficulty, the suitcase pulling him along afterwards as though it was a huge dog straining at the leash.

  'Where am I supposed to put it?' Jacey complained, scratching the back of his neck as he surveyed the overflowing boot of his car. He sighed, dumping it into the back seat of the car and trying to secure it.

  'Put a seat-belt on it,' Louisa suggested, peering into the car, and he laughed, looking up at her.

  Their eyes met and fused. Louisa felt her pulses leap at the warmth in his smile. She hoped for one moment that he might reach out and kiss her, but he looked away.

  'Is this absolutely necessary?' Jacey asked, eyeing the Chinese lampshade she handed him.

  'Scotty gave it to me,' she said, refusing to leave it behind.

  He sighed, exasperated, and did his best to find a place for it. Louisa didn't want to leave it behind. Poor little thing, she thought, looking at it with a smile. It looked so forlorn sitting alone in the back of the car.

  'Right.' Jacey firmly put her in the front of the car. 'Nothing else, and that's final. This car already looks like a junk shop as it is.'

  They drove to his house, and unloaded all her possessions. They looked, she had to admit, rather out of place in the elegant surroundings. Her ornaments mainly consisted of small fluffy toys, and they did not go down well put next to Dresden china and Georgian silver. She tried adjusting them, but it didn't seem to work.

  'I need some coffee after that lot,' Jacey announced, going into the kitchen. 'How about you?'

  She followed him in, cradling her small collection of crockery in her arms. Looking in the cupboards, she realised it was going to be even more out of place. She put most of it back into boxes to be thrown away, but placed her favourite mug on the shelf.

  Jacey reached for some cups, and stopped, gazing at it. 'Yours, I presume?' he said wryly, lifting it down and looking at the brightly coloured star-sign insignia. 'Sagittarius,' he remarked, reading from the mug. 'Restless, idealistic, honest, generous.'

  Their eyes met. 'That's me,' said Louisa, smiling slightly.

  One brow rose. 'Really?' he drawled, putting it back.

  She bit her lip, looking away. The white kitchen seemed too clean, too neat. Everything was put away perfectly, the walls shining, the floor shining. She wondered where the housekeeper was. She probably spent her whole life slaving away in this kitchen.

  'You haven't invited your parents to the wedding,' Jacey said suddenly, and she froze, avoiding his eyes. He studied her, arms folded across his powerful chest. 'Why?'

  Louisa ran her fingers over the immaculate surface. 'I couldn't get in touch with them,' she said huskily.

  He looked at her consideringly. 'Or you didn't want to,' he suggested.

  Louisa flushed and looked away. Why did he have to ask questions like this? It was really none of his business. If he could be secretive, so could she.

  'And that's all I'm going to get out of you,' he drawled with a barbed smile. 'Exactly nothing.'

  She raised her eyes to his, her expression grave. 'It's none of your business,' she pointed out quietly.

  His mouth tightened. There was a flash of anger in his eyes. 'Very well,' he snapped, banging cups, 'be secretive!'

  That did make her angry. She stared at the back of his black head and wanted to break something over it. What right had he to accuse her of that— what right had he to poke and pry into her personal life when he gave her absolutely nothing of his?

  'Secretive?' she echoed angrily, staring at him. 'Me?' She drew a deep breath. 'What about you? You didn't tell me about your wife. You didn't tell me Glen had had an affair with her. In fact, you didn't tell me anything—ever!'

  He looked at her over his shoulder. 'Why should Glen bother you?' he asked, frowning. 'Glen and Rachel's fling has nothing to do with you.'

  She shrugged and looked away, a frown deepening in her forehead. 'It's just another secret,' she said wearily, 'just another thing to surprise me.'

  He studied her coolly for a long moment, then he slid his hands in his pockets. 'Okay. Glen got involved up to his neck with my wife, fell like a ton of bricks. But she wasn't interested—so that was that.'

  'Poor Glen,' Louisa said with feeling, biting her lip.

  She remembered his stricken look, the pain in his eyes. He must have suffered. Then she remembered Maggie and the way she talked about Rachel. Poor Maggie, she thought wryly.

  'Poor Glen!' Jacey muttered irritably, staring at her. 'It was his own stupid fault. Our marriage had been over for years—it was an open secret, everyone knew what she was like. It was a monumental mistake.'

  She looked up, her black eyes afraid. 'And us, Jacey?' she asked huskily. 'Will that happen to us, too?'

  His eyes met hers grimly. 'That all depends on you.'

  Her mouth tightened. 'It takes two,' she pointed out in an angry tone, watching him across the room.

  His jaw clenched. 'We had a good thing going, till you broke it up.' He gave her a tight smile. 'Now you'll have to try and stick it back together again.'

  Her eyes flashed angrily. 'You're not helping much!'

  'Why the hell should I?' he said roughly, and she saw the tension in his body, saw the lean muscles tauten as he spoke. She was taken aback for a split second, then found her courage.

  'I'm sick of her name!' she said under her breath. 'I'm sick of hearing about Rachel!'

  Jacey laughed, his white teeth sharp, cutting. He studied her with an unpleasant smile. 'Jealousy,' he observed in a tight drawl.

  Louisa was breathing hard, her face angry. 'I'm not made of stone!'

  'Aren't you?' he said bitingly.

  She heard her heart thudding very fast. The silence wrapped around her as she stared at him, unable to believe what he had said. She hadn't believed he disliked her that much.

  Putting a hand to her hot cheeks, she said, 'I can't go on like this, Jacey.' Her eyes lifted to his. 'Every time we speak to each other you snipe at me.'

  'How sad!' he said nastily, eyes cruel.

  The black eyes flashed a warning. 'I mean it!' she said in an angry voice. 'Stop hurting me! It won't get us anywhere.'

  'No?' he asked through tight, bloodless lips. 'You think you don't deserve it?'

  She winced, looking away. 'Okay,' she said bitterly, 'maybe I do. But you're hurting yourself as much as me.' Her eyes searched his in desperation. 'Can't you see that?'

  Suddenly she saw the hell in his eyes as he stared at her. 'Can't you?' he said hoarsely.

  Her breath caught in the back of her throat. She made a strangled noise, reaching out one trembling white hand to him, needing him to make that last move, to reach out his hand to her.

  Jacey groaned, moving forward. He swept her into his arms, his mouth covering hers in a draining, burning kiss. His fingers thrust into her hair while she kissed him back with the same burning intensity.

  His arms crushed her hard against him, his kiss drowning her until her heart raced against his. His hot mouth moved frenziedly over hers while she twisted her fingers into his thick black hair.

  They clung to each other, swaying, and she moaned breathlessly as his hands slid over her tight stomach, moving upwards until they closed over the swell of her breasts and she whimpered, breathless.

  'I want you like hell,' he whispered thickly
. 'It's eating me up!'

  Heat flooded her limbs as he kissed her feverishly, the long fingers shaking as they slid from breast to thigh, his heart crashing hard against his tight chest where she rested her hands.

  'Darling,' he groaned against her mouth, and she clung to him in reply, her body winding insidiously against his, her fingers restless as she stroked his neck.

  Jacey raised his head, breathing raggedly. 'My God,' he muttered thickly, and closed his eyes, his lashes flickering as he caught his breath.

  Louisa swayed against him, pulses drumming in her ears, and watched the fever that made his breathing unsteady, made a muscle jerk in his cheek.

  'I've got to have you,' he groaned, his mouth sliding over her throat in burning sensual kisses. 'Tonight—let me love you tonight.'

  Thoughts rose drowsily in her mind, and as she waited, they gained credence, gained momentum. She knew Jacey hated her. Whether he wanted to make love to her or not, whether he was hurting himself or not. He hated her, and that hatred would not die in bed. It would only die when he was ready to forgive her. And that wasn't now.

  'Say yes,' he muttered against her ear, kissing her lobe, licking it with his tongue until she shivered.

  'No, Jacey.'

  The silence was deafening. Her cheeks burnt, the blood pulsating in her veins. Then he raised his head, very slowly.

  'What did you say?' he asked in a strained, very controlled voice.

  Her lower lip trembled as she caught the expression in his eyes. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered.

  'Sorry?' His lips curled viciously, and for one moment she thought he might hit her.

  She backed, frightened by the violence that leapt from his eyes.

  'My God,' he bit out, breathing hard, staring at her with incredulous eyes, 'I'll teach you to be sorry! I'll make you wish you'd never been born!'

  He turned and slammed out of the kitchen, his shoulders set angrily. As he slammed the door, Louisa jumped, watching the door bang to and fro on its hinges.

  She slumped against the wall. The tiles were cold and icy against her skin. Will it never end? she asked herself miserably, and felt a hot tear slide out from beneath her lashes. She wiped it away childishly,, her fingers trembling.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Louisa didn't want to get out of bed the next morning. Sitting upright, she stared mindlessly at the wall, trying not to think of the wedding ahead of her. Scotty was arriving at eleven to dress at the house with her—but she preferred not to think of that right now. She would get up when he arrived.

  But Jacey came to see where she had got to as time went on, and she looked up with a start as the door clicked open and his broad shoulders filled the doorway.

  'What,' he asked coolly, 'are you doing? Do you realise what time it is?'

  Louisa looked at him steadily. 'Ten-thirty,' she said without looking at the little blue alarm clock beside her. She didn't need to check; she knew perfectly well she should have been up hours ago.

  'Out of that bed,' Jacey told her in a warning tone, 'or I'll drag you out!'

  She looked at him irritably. 'Just a few more minutes,' she said, snuggling back into the pillow with a sigh. Jacey crossed the room in a flash and his hand closed over her wrist. 'Hey!' she yelped as she tumbled out of bed, almost losing her balance.

  'You haven't eaten, and it's getting late,' he told her coolly. 'Go down and get yourself some breakfast.'

  'I'll be sick,' she muttered, her face mutinous.

  'Good,' he replied, moving to the door. 'It'll put some colour into your cheeks.'

  Louisa made a face at his departing back, and picked up her things before going to the bathroom to wash. The hours before the wedding seemed to stretch ahead endlessly. How would she bear it? Waiting for an event like this was worse than actually going through with it!

  Scotty arrived dead on time and she made him some coffee, showing him to the room he was to use. He looked around with a bemused expression as he hung his suit up, mumbling something about it being all right for some. Louisa watched him with a smile. He made her feel calm just by being with her.

  The long white lace dress rustled at her ankles as Louisa stood in front of the mirror later that day. Her silky black hair was a perfect foil against its delicate white, her large dark eyes peeping out from beneath a flowing veil and small coronet of flowers.

  Scotty came in and twirled in front of the mirror, pleased as Punch. 'How do I look?' he asked, adjusting his top hat on his old grey head.

  'Very Lord of the Manor,' she said, her cheeks dimpling.

  He nodded solemn agreement and turned to study her. 'Beautiful,' he said softly, his eyes moving slowly over her. He stepped forward, picking up a white orchid from the bouquet beside her. 'Here,' he said, putting it in her hair. He smiled. 'The finishing touch.'

  Louisa smiled back, but her mouth was taut with strain, and her fingers gripped her bouquet far too tightly.

  Scotty sighed. 'It's a proud day for me, leading you up the aisle.' He turned slightly pink, his ears reddening. 'You've been like a daughter to me these last few years,' he said huskily, then frowned. 'But it should be your own father giving you away. It saddens me.'

  Louisa looked away, her eyes sad. It saddened her too. She didn't even know who her father was.

  Then the car arrived, and they walked to the door, climbing into the white Rolls-Royce and leaving, the house empty. The ride to the church played havoc with Louisa's nerves. Her eyes were wide with strain as she looked out of the window, seeing the small white stone church looming up ahead.

  A sea of hats bobbed and dipped in the aisle as she walked slowly up it on Scotty's arm. Her heart was pounding as she saw Jacey turn his dark head and their eyes met with a jolt. She was trembling when she reached his side.

  'Dearly beloved,' the vicar began, and Louisa glanced nervously at Jacey, her eyes intent on the hard-boned face, the dark lashes which flickered against his tanned skin.

  She was intensely aware of Jacey's dark powerful figure as they stood together, saying their vows. Did they mean anything to him? she wondered, watching the hard sensual mouth moving as he spoke.

  The cool brush of his fingers on her as he slid the platinum ring on her finger made her tense. Her eyes lifted to his and she saw a flicker of passing emotion in their depths. She wondered again if their vows meant anything to him.

  Then they were out in the bright sunshine and Jacey bent his head for the photographers. Louisa trembled as his lips moved sensually over hers, clutching his broad shoulders with white fingers.

  Glen and Maggie ran to the car, showering them with rice as they got into the front of it. 'Have fun!' Glen yelled, grinning like a monkey and emptying a box of rice all over Jacey's head.

  Jacey started the car and they pulled away. Louisa waved until the crowd was out of sight, then settled back into the seat, feeling more nervous than ever now she was alone again with him.

  'Where are we going?' she asked quietly as they sped away from London.

  Jacey brushed confetti from his raven-black hair. 'Yorkshire,' he told her shortly.

  Her eyes widened. Why Yorkshire? she wondered, frowning. Then she shrugged, and lapsed into silence, watching as they left the urban sprawl of the suburbs behind them, driving on to the motorway where great grassy banks rose up beside them.

  Three hours later they pulled up outside a tall grey stone house. The weather had shifted uncertainly all day, but now a storm was in process over the wild sweep of the Yorkshire hills, and thunder vied with lightning for supremacy in the skies.

  Greystone House was framed against a tortured sky, the white veins of lightning ripping the sky apart, every crash of thunder making Louisa jump, her eyes darting.

  'We'll have to make a run for it,' Jacey said beside her as rain battered the roof of the car. 'This rain drenches!'

  She nodded, flicking the door open and dashing head first for the oak door of the house. Although it wasn't far, she was soaked by the time she reached it,
and she huddled under the grey slate porch, shivering slightly.

  He joined her, his black hair damp, and pushed the door open with the flat of one powerful hand, waiting as she went quickly inside.

  He adjusted the collar of his jacket, shaking rain free. His eyes slid over her with amusement. 'You look like a drowned rat,' he commented.

  Louisa felt her mouth compress with irritation, but she didn't reply. She followed him along the dark hallway until he pushed open a door and led her inside. It was a large, spacious room, with dark red velvet curtains falling in a single, rippling line to the floor. A grandfather clock ticked sonorously, watching them with its bland round face. Oak panels shone under discreet lighting, the varnish slick against the smooth grain of the wood.

  They ate dinner in a tense silence. Louisa felt those silver-green eyes watching her all the time, but when she looked up, Jacey looked away. It was impossible to discover what was going on inside that enigmatic black head.

  After dinner she waited until she had finished her coffee, then said, 'I'm rather tired,' and watched him for reaction.

  'Tired?' he drawled smokily, then gave her a lazy, barbed smile. 'Then I suggest you splash your face with water. That should Wake you up in time.'

  In time for what? she thought angrily, going out of the room and up the stairs. Then she realised that she didn't know where her room was. She heard Jacey's footsteps on the stairs and whirled, pulses thudding.

  'Lost?'

  She nodded, and he stepped forward, opening a door to her left. He made a mocking bow as he watched her step inside. The room was warm and earthy, decorated in dark browns and soft creams, subtly illuminated by gentle lighting.

  The door closed behind her and she turned. Jacey leaned lazily against the panel.

  Louisa's eyes darted to the bed and she felt them widen with sudden realisation. It was large, dark brown with soft cream pillows on either side. She looked back at Jacey.