Fever

by Charlotte Lamb

  To Sara's surprise, Nick extended his hand, as though they had never met. 'How do you do, Miss Nichols?'

  She dumbly found herself letting him take her hand and suddenly remembered their first meeting, the way he had held her hand until she was forced to look at him.

  This time the touch of his fingers made her pulses leap in stupid excitement and she couldn't quite meet his eyes in case he saw what was happening to her.

  He released her hand and drank some of his whisky. 'Good party, isn't it? Jeremy said brightly.

  Nick drank some more whisky and put his glass down. 'Very,' he said curtly. He looked at Sara. 'Will you dance, Miss Nichols?'

  No! her mind shrieked, knowing that being in his arms was going to be an ordeal she couldn't face, but she heard herself saying quietly, 'Thank you,' and then she was being guided into the shuffling throng of other guests and Jeremy was staring after them with a discontented expression.

  Nick held her lightly, moving with a brief space between them, his strong face averted from her.

  Her mouth was dry and she was conscious of an intolerable excitement. Once he looked down and she found herself looking at him in a helpless aware­ness which she couldn't break. The blue eyes rested on her with unreadable fixity, the harsh lines of his face unmoving. She felt his hand stirring on her back, the fingers splaying against her silky dress, the warmth of them reaching her skin.

  The music stopped and she broke away with barely a smile, walking back to Jeremy as if she had the devil at her heels. Nick didn't follow her. She smiled at Jeremy feverishly and said she really thought they should be going. They had a long drive in front of them back to Ravens Halt, she reminded him.

  He took her hand eyeing her oddly, and went off in search of Annabel. It didn't surprise Sara to find Nick with her. Jeremy lightly informed his sister that they were going. 'We've got the drive back home to face,' he grimaced.

  Nick frowned. 'You aren't driving, Jeremy? You're in no condition to drive a car. Even if you manage to drive at all, the police may well stop you. You'll have to get a taxi.'

  Jeremy made a face. 'All the way to Suffolk? I don't think so, sir. Don't worry, I'm not drunk.'

  'You've been drinking,’ Nick retorted sharply. He threw Sara a brief cold look. 'It isn't sensible.'

  She was angry and jealous and reckless. 'We'll be perfectly all right,' she said in a sharp voice.

  Annabel wound her small hand through Nick's arm. 'Darling, Jeremy knows what he's doing.'

  'Like hell,' said Nick, and his tone made them all stare at him. He closed the hard mouth in a straight angry line. 'I'll drive you,' he said. 'I've barely touched anything. A couple of glasses of whisky won't have affected my responses.'

  Jeremy looked both amazed and horrified. 'Oh, no, really, sir,' he mumbled.

  Annabel was furious. 'You can't make that drive at this hour,' she protested. 'It will take you all night to get there and back again!'

  Nick had an obstinate set to his chin. 'Forcell can give me a bed for the night,' he said,

  'Oh, of course,' Jeremy said unhappily, staring at his sister with an obvious shrug of resignation.

  Annabel's little face smouldered with temper. She said suddenly, 'I know, why don't you and Sara stay here tonight, Jeremy? That's the answer.'

  Sara turned without answering and walked to the door. She was not staying at Annabel's fiat for the night. Nick strode after her and caught her arm. 'Where are you going?'

  'To my own home,’ she said coldly. 'I'll get a taxi. I'll see Jeremy in the morning.'

  Annabel and Jeremy had rushed after Nick and Annabel looked happier now, clapping her hands. 'Sure? Well then, that's settled, isn't it?'

  'I'll drive you,' said Nick without even looking at her.

  'No, thank you,' Sara retorted. 'I'll get a taxi.'

  Nick's hand clamped over her arm and she was hustled to the door before she could protest. She caught a glimpse of Annabel, red and gasping, and Jeremy staring in bolt-eyed surprise, then she was out of the house and Nick was pushing her like a recalcitrant child down the garden path and into his car.

  'Get your hands off me!' she muttered, struggling as he opened his car.

  He didn't answer, his face set. Half lifting, half pushing, he got her into the car and slammed the door on her furious face. She turned to open it, but he was beside her in the driver's seat, reaching across to bang the door shut again. 'Do up your seat belt,' he commanded.

  She sank back with fury into the seat and fiddled for the belt. Nick did not move to help, watching her with a stiff, cold expression. As soon as her belt was fastened he started the ignition. The car shot away with a roar.

  Nick drove without speaking or even looking at her. Sara stared out of the window at the houses dimly passing. When he finally pulled up outside her home, she turned to open the door, and he moved then, dragging her round to face him, his hands on her shoulders.

  'Oh, no I Not yet, you little bitch!'

  His voice was unrecognisable, a harsh, hoarse whisper, and she looted at him in startled shock, trying to pull away as she understood his intention. His hands moved up to trap her head, holding it immovable, and then his .mouth crushed down hungrily, parting her lips.

  Desire fountained crazily inside her. She heard the intake of his breath as their mouths explored each other even more deeply, then they both moved, their bodies meeting, clinging, in a feverish impact which erased everything else from her mind. Sara was dissolving into him, her hands clasping his neck. The passion they had exchanged the night she went to his penthouse seemed suddenly a milk-and-water thing compared to the almost desperate urgency between them now.

  The months since they last met had not weakened Nick's attraction for her. It had strengthened it. In the dark forcing-house of her emotions this love had been growing without her knowledge, and now it was thrusting upwards to the light, eager to flower, and she was helpless to fight the hot necessity of it.

  His "hands were moving urgently down her body, warm on the cool skin, sliding sensuously over the silky material which clung so closely to her body.

  She arched towards him in response to those coax­ing hands, her eyes shut tight, her breathing deafen­ing her. She barely knew what she was doing, trembling and helpless in the grip of her wild response to him.

  Nick wasn't giving her time to think either, his caresses becoming more intimate with every moment. His mouth wasn't moving from hers, cover­ing it, holding it, and his hands cupped her breasts as he leaned over her, her body trapped by his against the seat.

  She suddenly felt she was suffocating under the hard invasion of his lips and as if Nick sensed it he drew back slightly, breathing hard.

  Eyes closed, she lay quivering, arms still round his neck, and he pushed his hot face into her neck, his lips moving on her skin.

  The coldness, the anger, had gone out of his voice when he spoke again and he sounded as dazed as she felt. 'I want you so much, darling: Let me come in, let me stay with you tonight,' he whispered, kissing her throat. 'For God's sake, let me stay with you.' He felt her trembling and lifted his head to look at her, his eyes pleading. 'Sara, let me love, you.'

  There was nothing she wanted more and she would have said yes with unthinking eagerness, but Lucy was there. She had had to sell her house after Rob's death and she had moved in with Sara while Greg was away in France and Lucy's new flat was being redecorated.

  'I can't,' she almost sobbed, and Nick stiffened.

  He drew back and looked at her through the darkness, his face cruel. 'Afraid Halliday will find out?'

  'There's someone there,' she said miserably, and Nick swore so viciously that she jumped, incredulous.

  'Damn you to hell!' he said hoarsely. 'Get out of my car.'

  Trembling, white-faced, Sara got out and Nick shot away with a screech of tyres, leaving her stand­ing on the pavement in total shock.

  She stumbled into the house and as she closed the door she fainted. The slump of her bo
dy woke Lucy. She came running in alarm from her bed­room in Sara's half of the house and switched on the light, half expecting to see a burglar, no doubt. Sara came to a moment later to find Lucy kneeling beside her, exclaiming in shocked anxiety.

  'I'm all right,' she mumbled, her lips bruised and hot.

  'What's wrong?' Lucy asked with a worried look. 'You're white!'

  Sara laughed wildly. 'I'm fine, just fine.'

  'You don't look fine,' Lucy observed, frowning.

  Sara got shakily to her feet and Lucy put an arm round her, supporting her.

  'What are you doing here? I thought you were still in Suffolk. Why have yon arrived back at this hour?'

  Sara was still unstrung, still half out of her mind. Without thinking she said wildly, 'I wish to God Greg was here!'

  Lucy looked at her in sharp inspection. 'What's wrong, Sara? Can't I help?'

  Sara began to pull herself together. 'No, no, for­get it. Lucy, I could be very grateful for a cup of strong tea.'

  'I'll get you one,' Lucy said at once, delighted to be of some use. 'First, let's get you into bed, shall we?'

  'I can manage,' said Sara, forcing a smile. 'Really, I'm fine.'

  'People don't faint for nothing,' Lucy said, then gave her a strange intent look. 'Go ahead, then, get into bed while I make some tea.'

  Sara made her way into her own bedroom and undressed. Lucy came along with the tea a few minutes later and looked at her in assessment.

  'Thank you. I'm dying for this,' Sara said, sip­ping the tea.

  'Anything else you want?' Lucy asked her.

  Sara shook her head. 'I'm sorry I disturbed you. You mustn't worry about me. I shall be all right. I've had a bit of a shock, that's all.' Her lips twisted. 'The past suddenly caught up with me with a ven­geance!'

  Lucy went out and Sara finished her tea and settled down to sleep. She was not surprised that, it evaded her. She lay in the darkness, twisting un­easily, remembering Nick's passion. He had wanted her and frustration had made him furious. He must think she had been playing with him. The glittering flash of his eyes as he told her to get out of his car had been almost manic. Would be go back to the party? Rack to Annabel, who was so eager for his attention? Annabel, though, was holding out for marriage, no doubt, and Sara knew enough about Nick by now to know that he was by no means eager to enter matrimony. He enjoyed his freedom. He had the money to buy whatever he wanted and he would have a varied love life, she imagined. Marriage would limit his freedom.

  Damn him, I hope Annabel does pull it off, she thought. I'd like to think of him caged and having his wings clipped!

  She remembered the smooth sophistication he had worn when they first met and contrasted it with the entirely primitive rage which had glared out of his eyes as he swore at her before throwing her out of his car. He was a selfish swine. They hadn't set eyes on each other for nine months, yet the moment he had her alone he was trying to persuade her into bed and becoming violent when she had to turn him down. He hadn't even pretended to care two­pence for her. He had spoken to her, looked at her, with harsh contempt mixed with the desire his body had given away as he held her.

  She slept at last, worn out, and was pale and heavy-eyed in the morning when Lucy brought her a cup of tea. Jeremy rang at eleven, sounding as though he had been put through a wringer. 'What time shall I pick you up? I've just got up, I'm afraid.'

  'Good party after I'd gone?' she asked brightly.

  He groaned. 'Unfortunately, yes. My head is throbbing.'

  Your head! Sara thought. Mine is like a tin can full of marbles. It was rattling painfully every time she moved her neck.

  They agreed that she should be picked up after lunch. Jeremy yawned. 'See you, angel.'

  She had not asked if Nick had come back to the party. She didn't want to know. Let him. She didn't care.

  Lucy looked dismayed when Sara said she was driving back to Suffolk at once. 'But I didn't realise you meant to go back! I thought you'd left there for good.'

  'No, I haven't finished my picture yet. I came up to London for a party last night, but now I'm going back to do the last work. I should only be there for a few more days.'

  Lucy chewed her lower lip, her face distracted. 'Oh, dear!'

  Sara looked at her in surprise. 'What's wrong, Lucy? I'm fine now, I promise you.'

  Lucy gave her a quick, nervous look, her face becoming very flushed. 'I rang Greg.'

  'What?' Sara stared at her. 'Why on earth did you do that?' Then she realised. 'Because I fainted? Oh, Lucy, what did you say to him? You shouldn't have worried him.'

  Lucy wasn't looking at her. The dark hair hung limply around her face and her eyes were restless.

  'I told him I thought he should come back at once, that you needed him...well, you said so. You said you wished he was here.'

  Sara couldn't-remember having said it. She was merely horrified to hear that Greg had been dis­tressed like this over nothing. 'Why on earth did you do it? Whatever I said, I wouldn't want Greg worried.'

  'He ought to be here,' Lucy said stubbornly. 'Why should you go through this on your own?'

  'Through what?' Sara felt herself blushing deeply. When she was still barely conscious last-night had she said something about Nick? Made some un­guarded remark to give Lucy a clue to what had made her faint?

  Lucy looked at her pink face and her eyes were angry. 'Don't look like that. I'm not passing any judgment, Sara. Greg loves you, and now he knows you're carrying his child...’

  'What?' Sara's voice soared, incredulous, stricken,

  Lucy met her eyes and a slow uncertainly came into her face. 'You are, aren't you?'

  'My God!' Sara moaned. 'My God, what have you said to Greg?'

  Lucy put her hands to her face. 'You mean you aren't?'

  They stared at each other in a silence which went on for ages.

  'How could you, Lucy?' Sara asked in high fury.

  'How could you?'

  'You fainted and you said it was the past catching up with you and you wished Greg were here,' Lucy gabbled, still clasping her white face with both hands. 'And I said to Greg.' She stopped dead. Swallowed. 'I took it that you and Greg...’

  'I think that's obvious,' Sara said drily. What in heaven's name had Greg thought? Her eyes focused sharply on Lucy's horrified face. How on earth could Lucy be so blind? It seemed Nick wasn't the only one fo misread the situation. Perhaps others, too, had thought that she and Greg were lovers, had turned a blind eye to it, not caring. Had she been living in a fool's paradise in believing that nobody but Nick suspected such things?

  'Greg is my stepbrother, Lucy,' Sara said drily. 'Nothing more, nothing less. He never has been my lover and I wouldn't want him to be.' Her mouth contracted. 'He wouldn't want to be, either. We've never felt anything for each other but affection.' 'How was I to know?' Lucy asked fiercely. 'You always seemed so happy together. I just took it for granted.'

  Sara moved to the telephone. 'I must ring Greg.' 'He won't be there,' Lucy said huskily. 'He's on his way home now.' Sara whirled and Lucy flinched away from her, her eyes very wide. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered, her lips trembling. She covered her face with her hands.

  'Oh, what must he be thinking? I said such things to him!'

  'What did you say?' Sara was pale now. realising suddenly what it must have done to Greg to have Lucy speak to him like that, have her accusing him of making Sara pregnant. Poor Greg, she thought in horror. He must have been shattered!

  Lucy shook her head weakly, unable to reply. What was the point of being angry with her? The small, pale face was so vulnerable, so stricken, and Sara was accustomed to being gentle with Lucy. She couldn't stay angry with her for long. Lucy had borne enough for one lifetime

  'Oh, well,' she said,, trying to sound calm. 'Never mind, Greg will forgive you. You meant well—I realise that. It was all a ghastly mistake. What we need now is a cup of coffee, Lucy, a strong cup of coffee.'

  Lucy was pathetically eager to make it
. She had always used domestic tasks to ease her grief and anxiety. She expressed herself in action. She did things for people because she found it hard to say what she felt.

  While Lucy made the coffee, Sara rang Jeremy to explain that she wouldn't be going back to Suf­folk that day. 'My brother is coming home and I have to be here,' she explained, and Jeremy said he would come and pick her up the following morn­ing in that case. 'I'll enjoy the drive,' he yawned. 'I'm glad not to have to make it today. I'm worn out.'

  She agreed and rang off. Lucy had made the coffee and nervously hovered w7hile she drank it, ask­ing, 'Do you think Greg will be very cross?'

  Sara shook her head, looking at her with a smile.

  'Not with you, Lucy.' Never with you, she thought, but you apparently don't know that, my poor myo­pic Lucy.

  What did Greg see in her to make him so faith­ful, so helpless to alter his feelings? Lucy was not beautiful nor was she brilliant. She was small and slight and delicate with black hair which could look limp and lifeless when she wasn't well and eyes which had faint shadows under them. Yet Greg hungered for a touch of her hand, watched her when she was unaware of him, spent hours endlessly draw­ing her.

  'I must get some fresh air,' Sara said. 'My head aches. Can I do some shopping for you, Lucy?'

  'Oh, thank you,' Lucy said eagerly. 'I must tidy up before Greg arrives.'

  Sara smiled and went out, amused to see Lucy's invariable reaction once more. Now Lucy would work doggedly to make the flat beautiful for Greg's arrival in the hope of lessening his annoyance over her mistake.

  It never occurred to Sara to warn Lucy not to go into Greg's flat. She herself had never ventured there without invitation, respecting Greg's privacy and knowing his secrecy about his private world.

  She did the shopping Lucy had asked her to do and walked slowly around the nearby park, breath­ing in the cool spring air and watching a dog running in excited circles on the grass.