Lindsay sat down. She felt cold, she thought of her brother desperately, struggling to raise the money to repay that loan and she wanted to cry. What do you ever know about other people? Stephen hadn't given her any idea that all this was on his mind, he had been wearing a bright smile whenever she was with him, yet all the time he must have been out of his mind with worry.
'Why didn't he say something?' she asked, mostly talking to herself. 'Why keep it to himself? Not even to tell Alice—how stupid can you get?'
Daniel shrugged, cynicism in his smile. 'Alice is the sort of woman men try to protect, she can't take pressure, as we see.'
'What would you know about Alice?' Lindsay flung back at him with barbed hostility. 'About any woman, come to that?'
His smile died away, and, the grey eyes hardened. 'Don't snarl at me, Lindsay. I'm only trying to help your brother.'
'Accepting help from you is like taking it from a tiger,' Lindsay said bitterly. 'When you offer to help someone, you usually end by swallowing them whole. Stephen won't have a company at all by the time you've finished with him.'
'Thank you,' he said harshly. 'Your gratitude is overwhelming.'
'You want gratitude too?' Lindsay mocked angrily. 'As I remember you, the price tag on your help is high enough without any value added tax of that sort.'
He didn't like that remark; the hard-boned face tightened and a dark red stain washed through the brown skin.
'Don't push me, Lindsay, I might hit back, and you wouldn't like that, believe me.'
'I'm not afraid of you!' Lindsay threw at him, shaking with temper. She was lying, she was afraid of him, she was terrified of what would happen to Stephen and his firm if Daniel Randall decided to take an interest in it. Daniel enjoyed acquiring other firms, streamlining them into profitability through ruthless asset-stripping and what he called rationalisation, which meant in practice that he cut man-power and a lot of people lost their jobs. It was undeniable that the firms usually seemed to make more money afterwards, but Lindsay had been appalled by what she saw of her husband's cold-blooded, hard-headed business techniques. It had all fitted the other things she had learnt about him! Daniel was merciless in the pursuit of his own way.
Daniel took a step towards her and she shrank back against the couch cushions; her skin prickling with nerves as she suddenly became aware that they were quite alone down here and that all around them the house was silent.
'I thought you weren't afraid of me?' Daniel asked in dry menace, watching her restless eyes as she looked towards the door. 'What's the matter, Lindsay? Not quite as brave as you thought you were?'
'I just don't like being loomed over, that's all,' she said sulkily, looking back at him, and he smiled in a fashion which sent waves of heat up her body.
'I'd better sit down, then, hadn't I?'
She realised her mistake at once, but it was too late; he had sat down next to her, that long, lean thigh touching her, his body turned towards her, his eyes travelling in lazy speculation from her flushed face downwards over her white silk blouse and pleated skirt to her long, shapely legs. His gaze came back to her face at last, after he had reduced her to a seething cauldron of fury and resentment over the way he was inspecting her, but her open rage merely made him laugh.
'Aren't I allowed to look? You're still stunning, but I'm sure your boy-friend tells you that.'
'Boy-friend?' she repeated, startled, staring into his watchful eyes.
'The guy who left just as I arrived—I saw him getting into his car after a long kiss. Is it serious? Planning to marry him?'
'Mind your own business, what's it got to do with you?'
'Just curious,' Daniel said with a casual shrug. 'What's his name? Do I know him?'
'Not as far as I know. His name is Aston Hill.'
'It's what?' he asked laughing, and her flush deepened resentfully.
'What's funny about that? I like his name, and I like him, too; Aston's a wonderful man.'
'I'm sure he is,' agreed Daniel and she heard the bland, mocking note in his voice and glared at him.
'He is!'
'Did I deny it?'
'You were making fun of him, don't think I didn't hear you. I'll tell you this—he's worth ten of you.'
'In what way?' he asked in all apparent soberness, but the glint in the grey eyes betrayed that he was still having fun at her expense and Lindsay looked at him with bitter dislike. 'Financially or…'
'All you think about is money,' she muttered. 'No, he isn't as rich as you are, but…
'In bed?' Daniel prompted, and alarm bells went off inside her.
'I don't want to talk about Aston,' she said hurriedly. 'I'm worried about Stephen, isn't there any way we can trace him?'
'I doubt very much if Stephen is in any danger,' Daniel dismissed coolly. 'He's far too intelligent to do anything really stupid. At a guess, I'd say he's gone away to think things out and he'll be back in a day or two. If lie's been under some heavy pressure lately he could have felt that life was just too much to cope with, he had to get away by himself. He might even have felt resentful because nobody seemed to realise the sort of load he was carrying. That may be why he didn't have any message for Alice. Someone who's used up all their energy gets into a burnt-out state where they want to hit back at the people around them for not noticing what was happening to them.' He gave her a hard glance, his eyes hostile. 'Men are human beings, you know.'
'Some may be,' Lindsay muttered, then her pulses leapt with alarm as Daniel's body swung sideways, his arm going across her to fence her into the corner of the couch and his face suddenly only inches away from hers.
'Don't touch me!' The panic-stricken words escaped before she could stop them and she saw his smile harden on his mouth.
'If you wave a red rag at a bull you must expect him to charge,' he told her, his grey eyes sliding down over her, insolence in them, as though he could see through the formal clothes to the warm flesh beneath. 'That remark was deliberate provocation and you know it—I'm a human being and I can prove it.' Before she could stop him his hand was touching her breast, shaping the silken roundedness in the curved cup of palm and fingers, while he watched her intently, his other hand taking hold of her wrist in ail iron grip and pulling her hand towards his shirt. He held her hand against his chest, still staring into her nervously flickering eyes.
'Feel my heart,' he said softly. 'Hear it beating? I'm flesh and blood, Lindsay, and when I touch you, every nerve cell in my body knows it.'
'Get your hands off me,' she began unsteadily, and the words were smothered as his mouth came down on hers, parting her lips with crushing force; a fierce demand which almost amounted to cruelty because it did not care if it hurt her or not, his mouth hard and insistent.
The hand touching her body moved sideways, she felt the long fingers opening her blouse, and tried to struggle free, her hands pushing at his shoulders, hitting him, thrusting at him while she writhed and fought to get away. His hand slid inside, the fingers cool on her skin, and she caught her breath shuddering, as she felt him touch her naked breast. Wild , tremors ran through her, she was trembling with shock, her body arching in bitter tension. A great part of her anger was with herself because she couldn't disguise from her own mind that her body was alight with excitement at what he was doing to it; fire flashed along her nerves, her flesh was melting, and she knew that Daniel was unlikely to miss the telltale signs that betrayed her.
Desperately dragging herself back from the edge of surrender, she deliberately ran her nails into his neck and felt him jerk back in pain.
'You little fool,' he muttered, sitting up. His face was flushed and hard. He put a hand to his neck and looked at his fingertips as he took it away again. A faint smear of blood showed on his skin.
'You've made me bleed!' he exclaimed, sounding shocked. 'Look at your claw-marks, you vicious little cat!'
'I told you to leave me alone.' Lindsay got to her feet, slightly unsteady as she moved; her head spinn
ing, the blood beating in her ears. 'I think you'd better go,' she said in a voice made raw by the wave of misery which had swept up inside her. Her body was aching with unsatisfied desire, and she hated him for having made her feel like this, she wanted him to go now before she broke down in tears. It was so long since she had felt his hands touching her, her flesh had seemed to dissolve in the furnace-like heat of her emotions.
'I'm staying here tonight,' he muttered, and she stiffened.
'Oh, no, you're not!' Did he really think she would let him stay the night? She moved backwards, watching him with nervous, frightened eyes that spat green fire in defiance, and Daniel looked back at her, his mouth crooked in sardonic mockery.
CHAPTER THREE
'Don't be stupid, Lindsay,' he said with an impatient smile that she found infuriating. 'You need sleep as much as Alice does, but there ought to be someone awake in case something happens— I'll stay down here on the couch, I can go without sleep for days if I have to, you should remember that.' She did, of course; Daniel could work through the night and still get up at the crack of dawn looking as bright as a daisy, she had often marvelled at that ability to go without sleep. If he felt tired he could catnap in a chair for half an hour; she had seen him switch himself off like a machine, close his eyes and be asleep within seconds, to wake up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to cope with whatever emergency was needing his attention.
'It's very kind of you,' she said hesitantly, and he gave her one of his sardonic glances.
'So gracious!'
'I meant it!'
'But it hurt to say it,' he drawled.
'If I sound surprised it's because kindness isn't something I expect from you.' She ran a shaky hand through her tumbled red-gold hair, sighing.
Daniel watched her, his face calm now. 'You look like death—I suggest we discuss your distorted view of my character in the morning when you've had some sleep and can talk rationally.'
'I'm perfectly rational now.' Lindsay said, smothering a yawn, and his mouth twisted.
'That,' he said slowly, 'is a matter of opinion.'
She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. 'I'll get you some blankets and a pillow.' He was quite right, she was too tired to talk clearly, the emotional onslaught of the last few hours had shredded her nerves and left her feeling like someone who has just been in an accident. Anxiety and tension were killing, you couldn't switch them off for long enough to restore your equilibrium, and this evening she had had a series of mental shocks which she certainly couldn't have anticipated. It seemed an eternity since she had stepped into the shower with nothing on her mind but the prospect of a lively date with Aston at the theatre, she hadn't had any premonition of what was about to hit her.
She quietly went upstairs to the bathroom airing cupboard, found some blankets and a pillow on the top shelf and took them down to Daniel, who was looking along the bookshelves that filled the alcoves on each side of the fireplace. Lindsay was moving so softly that he hadn't heard her come back; she stood there, her arms full, staring at him. In the lamplight his black hair shone like polished jet, the ends of it tapering in to his brown nape, brushing his collar as he bent forward to pull out a book. He straightened again, his movement supple, the muscled elegance of a tiger rippling beneath his tailored suit. Her breath caught and Daniel turned his head quickly.
Lindsay pulled herself together and came into the room. She dropped her burden on the couch. 'Will two blankets be enough?'
'More than adequate.' He moved towards her and she felt her nerves prickling, and hurriedly walked back to the door before he glimpsed anything of what she was feeling. 'Goodnight, then, you'll wake me if anything happens.'
She heard his soft laughter as she closed the door and was furious with herself for fleeing like a routed army. She might have known that it would be a dead give-away—Daniel Randall didn't miss a thing; she should have stood her ground and tried to look as cool as a cucumber. The very last thing she wanted was for him to guess how she felt about having him around. Their marriage was over, thank heavens, and it had cost her enough to cut herself free from him the first time around, she didn't want to get involved with him again. She had that much sense, now. She hadn't had any when she first met him, she had been too young.
It had been one of the malicious joke? of fate that she had met him in the first place—she had been nineteen, working in London as a junior secretary in a merchant bank, sharing a flat with two other girls from the bank and living as cheaply as possible on her tiny salary. Each Saturday morning, one of the secretarial staff had to come in to work to open the mail and deal with routine enquiries which couldn't wait until Monday. The girls worked a rota for this duty, so that it was only around six times a year that each one to give up her Saturday morning.
The second time Lindsay had to do it, one of the directors came into her little office and asked her to take some urgent dictation. Daniel had been with him and had wandered around the room with his hands in his pockets while the other man dictated. Lindsay had held her head down, nervously concentrating on her shorthand, but she had been very much aware of Daniel. She had never seen' anyone like him, the men who worked at the bank were usually pretty boring, either stuffed shirts without two words to say for themselves or shy young men who stared at her and stammered over their dictation. Daniel had. seemed like someone from another planet; she had been stunned by his electric sexuality, the masculinity of that strong face and powerful body. He wore the same dark suit and striped business shirt as the other men, but he wore his clothes with a casual panache which made them seem very different, and the way he moved somehow made it impossible not to be aware of the male body underneath the clothes. Lindsay had found herself trembling every time he came near her, she kept stealing looks at him from under her lowered lashes. He hadn't seemed to be looking at her most of the time, but once their eyes had met and Daniel had given her a quick, amused, aware smile, sending a wave of bright pink flowing up her face. She had felt so obvious, he must have realised she couldn't keep her eyes off him, and he was laughing at her. After that she had kept her eyes firmly riveted on the shorthand pad.
When she left the bank at noon to walk to her nearest tube station she had found Daniel waiting outside in a red sports car. Lindsay hadn't noticed him at first, she had been about to walk past without a glance when he leaned over, opening the passenger door, and smiled at her. Halting in surprise, she had come over to the car, imagining that he was going to ask her some question about the work she had done that morning. Questions had flashed through her mind: had she made a mistake when she typed those letters?
'Can I give you a lift?' Daniel had asked instead, and she had hesitated, wary caution in her eyes. Daniel had watched her face, reading her expression without difficulty.
'My intentions are strictly honourable,' he had teased. 'I was only going to suggest lunch, seduction isn't on the agenda.'
She had blushed, then hated herself. He must think her so gauche and unsophisticated, she had thought, and with as casual a smile as she could manage she had got into his car, saying: 'Lunch would be fun.' Daniel had given her a smile that glinted with humour at the airy tone, and she had blushed again.
'You look like a poppy,' he had said, touching her cheek with one finger, and she had jumped about six foot in the air.
It all seemed a hundred years ago now, she had been so young and she hadn't had a clue how to talk to him. He had had a walk-over with her, one smile and she had been on her knees at his feet, amazed that anyone so godlike should want to take her out.
It was only after they were married, when Daniel was so rarely at home, always too busy to make dinner engagements or meet her at the theatre as they had arranged, that she began to view their first encounter in a different light. How many other wide-eyed little secretaries had he picked up so easily? He had accomplished it so smoothly, with the ease of someone who made it a habit. A smile, a come-hither look and she had been in his car, her heart beating
like a drum and her senses wildly aware of every movement he made.
Daniel had kissed her on their first date; on their second he had taken her out to dinner and afterwards they had sat in his car for what had seemed eternity, the expert caresses he was giving her turning her blood to fire. Now she had no doubt that if she had been a different sort of girl, she would have been in bed with him that night, but Daniel had come up against a barrier he, perhaps, hadn't expected. Lindsay had never been to bed with a man in her life, she had pulled back in panic when she realised where they were heading.
'No, don't—I'm sorry, I can't, I've never…' Her incoherent stammering had seemed to amuse him. He had looked into her flushed face, brows lifted, then he had smiled and run a long, gentle finger over the trembling curve of her mouth.
'Don't get into a state, honey, I'm not going to turn nasty, you can stop shaking in your shoes.'
'I'm sorry,' she had said, feeling a failure, afraid that he would lose interest in her if she refused, yet unable to relax and let it happen. She had never thought of herself as inhibited, but her mind obstinately refused to lift that invisible barrier; she went stiff from head to foot every time she thought about it.
'Don't apologise,' he had said, and there had been a faint snap in his voice then, he had frowned angrily, sitting up.
For a minute they had sat in silence in the car, not looking at each other, and Lindsay had heard the roughened drag of his breathing, betraying his frustration, tearing at her nerves and the nagging frustration she felt herself. She had hated herself, she had desperately wanted to turn to him and say: 'Yes, please, I want to…' But she couldn't, her tongue seemed to have turned to wood in her mouth, she could barely swallow. The dry heat behind her eyes had become tears which stole down her face, she put up a hand to brush them away and Daniel turned his head, catching the gesture.
The Sex War Page 4