He stared at her intently. 'So what happened?'
'He was angry and hurt,' she said tightly. 'What do you expect? For God's sake, what's the point of this inquisition?'
His grey eyes probed her face. 'Was it painful?'
Her face was pale. 'Very,' she said tersely. 'Does that satisfy you, Mr. Hume?'
'I'm trying to put myself into his place,' he said in flat tones. 'I was wondering what I would have done if I'd been him.'
Leigh looked at him in sudden curiosity. 'What would you have done?'
He looked oddly harsh, his face all angles, a hard shine in his grey eyes. 'I'd have taken you by force myself,' he said.
Her breath caught in her throat. A slow red swept up her face. His eyes sharply penetrated her features, reading her reaction.
She was trembling slightly, remembering Phil's bitter, passionate lovemaking and the despair with which he had recognised that he could not get her to respond as she had to Mattieson Hume.
The grey eyes narrowed in grim speculation. 'Is that what he felt like, Leigh?' he asked her.
She didn't reply, her flushed face tense.
Her silence answered for her. Mattieson Hume bent forward, his body as coiled with anger as a spring.
'What on earth possessed you to go to his room, you little fool? Haven't you any idea about men at all? What happened? Did he hurt you?'
She silently shook her head. 'Phil isn't you, Mr. Hume. He was angry, but he isn't a savage.'
'He's a man, damn you. I could have predicted what would happen if you'd told me what you meant to do. I thought you'd run off back to Leicester. It never occurred to me that you'd do such a stupid thing.'
'I owe him that much,' she said passionately. 'I'm not a coward.'
'No,' he said wryly, his mouth twisting. 'It was brave of you, Leigh. But stupid. The poor devil was crazy about you.' Slowly his eyes moved over her. 'He must have had quite a shock.' The grey eyes lifted to her face, trying to read her expression.
'He was hurt,' she said huskily. 'I shall always feel guilty about what I did to him.' And what you did, she thought, her blue eyes icy as they looked at him.
'He would have been a damned sight more hurt if he'd married you and then discovered he couldn't make it with you,' he said.
Her eyes burned with humiliated rage, but she looked away. The unspoken rider hung on the air between them ... Phil could never have made her respond the way Mattieson Hume had done, and they both knew it.
She stood up. 'I don't wish to discuss the subject any longer,' she said coldly. 'I must go now. Goodnight, Mr. Hume.'
'If you call me that in private one more time, Leigh, I'll shove the words down your beautiful throat,' he said between his teeth. 'My name is Matt. In future, you'll use it.'
'I prefer to keep our relationship as formal as possible, Mr. Hume,' she said coldly.
His hands caught her by the shoulders, and he shook her savagely, a sudden blazing rage lighting his grey eyes. 'You stubborn, idiotic little fool, why the hell did you go to his room? He might have half killed you. What did he do, Leigh?' His hands tightened. 'Tell me. What happened in that room?'
She looked at him in baffled incredulity. 'You have no right to ask me, and I have no intention of telling you,' she said.
He made a harsh, angry sound of frustrated impotence. 'What happened was as much my doing as yours,' he said, after a pause, his eyes watching her. 'Surely I have a right to know what followed?'
She lifted her chin. 'Do you want a blow-by-blow account of how he raped me, Mr.
Hume?'
For a moment all the colour ebbed from his face and his grey eyes had a steely glare in them. There was silence between them. His hands tightened on her shoulders until they ate into her flesh like iron cords.
'Tell me the truth,' he said below his breath, his voice a harsh, dry thread of sound.
'You're hurting me,' she said, struggling against him.
'Keep still,' he said. 'The truth, Leigh. I'm going to have it if I keep you here all night.'
Her blue eyes duelled with the hard grey flint ones for a moment, then she felt her resistance draining. Huskily, she said, 'He ... tried to make love to me, but Phil is too decent to be capable of it. So he stopped.' Her face was bitter. 'Is that enough information for you? Or do you need to be told exactly what he did to me?'
He shook her almost absently, as if she were a naughty child. 'Be quiet, Leigh,' he said harshly. His eyes probed into her face. 'Why did you let me think he'd taken you?'
She stiffened. 'It seemed to be what you imagined had happened,' she shrugged.
'Liar,' he said tautly. 'You wanted to hit back, didn't you, Leigh? Another little battle in our private war.'
'I hope some of the blows landed,' she said viciously.
His glance was mocking. 'Be careful, Leigh. Now who's making something personal out of our relationship? There's nothing as personal as a bitter wound, is there, Leigh?'
Her throat closed. Trembling, she met his eyes. 'Was it a bitter wound, Matt?'
He pushed her away to arm's length. 'If you don't want to be kissed to within an inch of your life you'd better get off home to Leicester now, woman,' he said thickly. 'Just remember in future, any provocative remarks from you can precipitate exactly the sort of incident you claim you wish to avoid.'
Leigh walked to the door, wishing her legs didn't tremble under her so violently. In the last few moments she had become so deeply aware of him that her whole system seemed to be disturbed to the point of anguished fever. For a moment she had felt she stood on the edge of an abyss, the flaw in her own cool character, from which Matt's touch could draw up blinding, consuming flame.
It had been Matt who drew back from the edge. She had forgotten her own condition for that moment. She had only been aware of the savage personal battle between them, and she knew that had he touched her at that moment he would have had an easy victory.
All the way back to Leicester she was eaten with self- contempt for how she had felt at that moment. She would not let him get to her again, she told herself. She would work with him as the perfect secretary, cool, self- contained, aloof. He would never be able to say she had provoked him into forgetting the condition she had laid down. Anything that happened would be his fault, and his alone, and she would see to it that he was punished for it in kind.
CHAPTER FIVE
SHE gave in her notice the following morning, feeling slightly guilty because she imagined it would cause both surprise and inconvenience, and was taken aback when her boss said, with a slight sigh, 'I guessed this would be coming.'
Leigh flushed to her hairline. 'What?'
The man shrugged. 'A lovely girl like you, Leigh, is going to find it hard to live with a broken engagement, but I'm not sure you're doing the right thing in running away ... I understand, all the same, and you have my blessing. I'm very sorry this has happened to someone as nice as you.'
Leigh shook, her eyes brightening with unshed tears. The kindness and thoughtfulness of the tone made her sense of guilt and her remorse far worse.
When she told her parents that she was leaving home for London and a new, much better job, her father shook out his newspaper and hid behind it, while her mother looked at her in distinct pity.
'Just as you like, dear,' she said.
Leaving the room, Leigh heard her murmur to her husband, 'She's taking it much harder than I'd thought she would.'
Wincing, Leigh went up to her bedroom and began to consider the practical problems of moving to London. She would have to find somewhere to live, she thought. That would be difficult. She knew all about the shortage of rented accommodation in the city.
She began to sort out her clothes, deciding which to take with her and which to leave behind. An hour later she heard her parents go out in the car. On Fridays they visited their closest friends to play bridge and gossip about the preceding week. She was sitting on her bed for the next half-hour, reading through old letters and school
reports, grimacing over the great bundle of trivia she had found in a hatbox on top of her wardrobe. Why did one keep these things? She pushed them all back into the hatbox.
They could all be thrown away. A piece of paper fell on to the floor and she picked it up, wincing as she read it. It was the first letter Phil had ever written to her, and she felt a wave of remorse and self-disgust as she pushed it into the hatbox.
It was unfair of life to offer such impossible choices, she thought. She might have been happy with Phil, but would Phil ever have been happy with her? Would it have been remotely fair to him to offer him affection when he needed passionate love? Life just didn't play fair with people.
A violent ring at the doorbell made her start. She went downstairs and opened the door, staring in shocked surprise at seeing Phil standing on the threshold, a bitter rage in his face.
He pushed past her, slamming the door, and she instinctively backed away from his taut, fury-stiffened figure.
'So you detest him, do you? You never want to see him again?' He spat the words out thickly. 'Then why the hell are you taking a job as his secretary, you lying little...
'Phil, don't,' she broke in shakily. 'Please!'
He shook her furiously. 'Why did you lie to me? You wanted to smooth me down, did you? It made it easier. Oh, God, have I been a blind fool where you're concerned!
Secretary may be the word you've used to cover the job when you told your parents, but you and I know exactly what post you'll be filling, don't we? I imagine it's going to be very highly paid he's a wealthy man. Congratulations, Leigh.'
She almost slapped his face at the first biting insult, but behind his angry voice she heard the throb of a pain so deep her own heart winced at it, so she stood quietly, listening, letting him pour out his feelings, even though she was wounded by them.
For five minutes he tore her character to shreds, his face tight with bitterness, and she neither moved nor spoke, looking at him in regret.
At last he came to an abrupt stop, his voice choking. He turned, his back to her, and leaned against the wall. Leigh instinctively moved to touch his back, and he pushed her away with a rough hand.
'Don't touch me. Are you insane? If you come any closer I'll go completely out of my mind and do something we'll both regret.'
Leigh flushed, then, to her hairline.
He stood there for another moment, then straightened and turned back to her. 'I'm not just saying this because I'm jealous,' he said stiffly. 'I am. You know just how jealous. But leaving that aside, Leigh, you can't do this. The sort of life he's offering you isn't your sort of world at all. He'll make you miserable one way or the other, and one day it will be over, and you'll have scars for the rest of your life.'
Softly, she said, 'Do you want my word of honour, Phil, that I'm taking a job as his secretary and nothing else?'
He held her blue gaze, and she saw a movement of doubt in his eyes.
'In fact,' she went on quietly, 'I only accepted the job on condition that he swore to keep it a business relationship only. It's a fascinating job, Phil. Highly paid, too. I've enjoyed working at my present job, but you must see how much more exciting it will be to work for the head of a newspaper organisation, instead of for some solicitor.'
Phil's eyes searched hers. He gave a low sigh. 'God knows why I should, but I believe you,' he said, grimacing. Then he shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the wall, staring at her. 'All the same, if you think he offered you the job because of your brains and efficiency, you're out of your Chinese mind. The swine wants you, Leigh--I saw that from the beginning. When you danced with him at the hotel it was obvious that he fancied you, and then ...' He broke off, biting his lip. 'Anyway, you can't trust him, Leigh. He may have given you promises about keeping it all on the business level, but you can't trust him an inch.'
'I know that,' she said flatly.
'Then why?' he demanded, his eyes darkening jealously. 'Why?'
'I'm capable of looking after myself, Phil,' she said. 'I have no intention of becoming Mattieson Hume's mistress, now or in the future, so you'll just have to trust me to look after myself.'
'Do you think I can fly off to Saudi Arabia tomorrow leaving you at the tender mercies of that swine?' Phil demanded huskily. 'While I'm miles away who knows what could be happening to you? I'd go out of my mind wondering about it!'
'We're two separate people, Phil,' she reminded him gently. 'You mustn't worry about me. Don't even think about me. Enjoy your new life and forget me.'
'Forget you?' The cry came hoarsely. Phil looked at her with restless, glittering eyes, pulled her into his arms and sought her mouth hungrily. She resisted, turning her head away, and the resistance brought a sudden violence into the way he held her. She felt it surge into him, an inflamed, desperate emotion which alarmed her. He took her head between both hands, pushed it back and began to kiss her with utter savagery. She was unresponsive, shocked, dazed under it. She lost all count of time, beginning to feel almost faint, unable to breathe properly, her senses swirling, when he suddenly released her, his own breath harsh, stared at her out of passion-darkened eyes, and walked away out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
Leigh staggered upstairs and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her lip was swollen and bruised and there were faint finger marks already darkening on her pale throat. The marks of Phil's passion stood out like traces of guilt on her skin.
She began to cry helplessly, covering her face with her hands. She had deserved it, she had hurt him so badly. But shock left her dizzy and sick.
She did not dare to let her parents see these betraying marks. By the time they returned from their bridge evening she was in bed and pretending to be asleep. Her mother paused in the doorway, peering through the darkness towards her bed, then went out again, and Leigh turned over on to her face, fresh tears pouring down her cheeks.
In the morning those dark marks on mouth and throat were still clearly visible, and she dreaded having to explain them to her mother, but she got up late to find both her parents gone. Saturday was their busiest day at the antique shop and they always arrived early to prepare for the sudden rustle of customers.
She was in the kitchen washing up her breakfast things, when someone knocked at the door.
Leigh's heart turned over. She stood for a moment, fighting a strong impulse of fear.
Had Phil come back? She had dreaded seeing him again ever since yesterday. The moments when he kissed her were branded on her memory. She had been terribly conscious of the thin crust of civilisation which was all that kept him from breaking out of control altogether.
The knock came again, louder. She straightened her shoulders and went to the door, holding a wary, reserved expression on her face.
'You took long enough in answering the door,' said a familiar, mocking voice.
Her fear faded, her stiff body relaxed, as she saw Mattieson Hume leaning on the doorpost. 'Oh, it's you!'
He lifted a quizzical eyebrow. 'Who did you think it was?' Then his eyes narrowed on her and a harsh look came into his face.
He walked past her into the house. Leigh closed the door, and stood, head lowered, looking at the carpet.
'Why are you here?' she asked, having just realised the oddness of finding .him on her doorstep on a Saturday morning.
'What happened, Leigh?' he asked abruptly, ignoring her own question. 'It was him, I suppose. He's been here?' He lifted her chin and stared at her mouth, a grim twist to his lips.
'What are you doing here?' she repeated stubbornly. 'Are you forgetting my condition?'
'I'm like the elephant, I never forget,' he said drily. 'And if I have to beat you I'm going to get the story out of you, Leigh.'
She gave him a cold blue look. 'The story is perfectly obvious, isn't it?'
'Perfectly,' he said under his breath. 'The sooner I get you to London the better.'
'He's leaving himself tomorrow,' she told him.
'Why the
hell did you see him?' he asked angrily. 'You're as incapable of reaching the obvious conclusions as a newborn child, Leigh. The man's crazy about you. You're playing with fire if you let him within touching distance.'
She half smiled. In a different context he was repeating the same warnings about Phil as Phil had given her about him. It was ironic.
He caught the stiff movement of her bruised mouth, and looked at her sharply. 'It isn't funny. He hurt you this time, didn't he, Leigh? You once told me he wasn't capable of hurting anyone, but you were wrong, weren't you? Given enough provocation any man can be savage.'
'I don't blame Phil,' she said.
'Don't blame him?' His face darkened.
'I deserved it,' she said wearily. 'I hurt him, and I feel as guilty as hell about it. He was out of control, just for a moment, and I've no doubt he regrets it now.'
Matt Hume looked at her as if working out what to say next. 'Get your coat, Leigh,' he said after a pause. 'I'm taking you out to lunch.'
'No, thank you,' she said stiffly. 'I'm not going out.'
'We have to discuss the practical details of your move to London,' he said patiently.
'You'll need somewhere to live, and I have an idea of somewhere that would suit you.'
'Why, you...' Her voice broke in sudden rage. 'If you think I'd let you set me up in a flat...!'
He put a hand over her mouth, grinning in amusement. 'Oh, what a wicked mind you have, Leigh! Now stop glaring at me and listen. Our porter, Sam, has a large, rather rambling Victorian house in Islington. His twin sons got married a month ago and moved out, so he and his wife have more space than they know what to do with. Sam thought of turning the top floor of the house into a flat, and when he mentioned it to me, I thought of you. He's agreed to let you have first refusal.'
She stared at him over his silencing hand, her eyes expressive. He took his hand away. His eyes teased her. 'Well?'
'That sounds marvellous,' she admitted, a little grudgingly.
'You sound disappointed,' he mocked. 'Hoped I was suggesting I set you up in a flat with all the luxuries of life. Leigh?'
Charlotte Lamb - Pagan Encounter Page 8