Charlotte Lamb - Pagan Encounter

by Charlotte Lamb

The telephone rang in the outer office. Remembering that Barbara had gone to get them coffee, she went out to answer it.

  It was Kit. 'How are you this morning, Leigh?' he asked brightly on hearing her voice.

  'Fine, thank you,' she said, equally brightly, aware that she had left the door open between her office and Matt's.

  'Enjoy yourself last night?' he asked, and something in his tone made her guess that he was in the reporters' room, probably surrounded by his colleagues, and eager for her to sound enthusiastic.

  A faint smile came into her voice. She was touched by his little-boy need to show off.

  'It was fantastic, Kit,' she said softly.

  He laughed. 'I'm glad you enjoyed it. How about something different next time?

  There's a party on Saturday night which might be fun.'

  'A party?' Leigh frowned slightly. She heard a faint movement and glanced round, meeting Matt's grey, compelling, angry eyes. Deliberately she said, 'That sounds nice, Kit.'

  Matt moved beside her. She stared at him warily while Kit was saying eagerly, it starts at nine, but we could have dinner first.'

  Matt put a hand under Leigh's chin and wrenched her round to face him. 'No,' he said, his tone granite.

  Colour swept up her face. Defiantly she began to speak, but Matt took the phone from her hand and slammed it down.

  'How dare you cut me off?' she exploded, if I want to go out with Kit I will, and you can't stop me!'

  The telephone began to ring again. Leigh moved to pick it up, but Matt was faster. He barked, 'Yes?' into it.

  Leigh heard a faint confused mumble. Matt listened coldly, then said, 'Lianos, my secretary is here to work for me, not to amuse the reporters' room. She cannot accept personal calls here.' Then he slammed the phone down.

  Leigh was shaking with her anger. 'You had no right to do that!'

  'I had every right,' he said tightly. 'Once and for all. Leigh, I will not have you seeing other men. Do you understand me?'

  Barbara, a tray in her hands, stopped dead in the doorway, hearing the last part of the sentence, and stared, dumbfounded. Matt, catching Leigh's stricken look towards the door, glared round at Barbara and stalked into his office, slamming the door so that the glass panels shook.

  Barbara's eyes sought Leigh's with a dazed query in them. Leigh turned back to her work without a word. After a moment Barbara placed a cup of coffee and some tablets beside her, and Leigh murmured a subdued, 'Thank you.'

  Discreetly, Barbara began her own work, making no comment on what she had heard, but for the rest of the morning Leigh caught her puzzled, curious look whenever Barbara thought she was unaware of her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BARBARA'S last day was hectic. Matt presented her with a wedding present from the staff, a beautiful set of bed- linen which she seemed delighted with, and made a little speech to her in the board room while a crowd of people listened and then applauded. She laughed, her face flushed with excitement, then bent and kissed Matt quickly, her eyes teasing.

  'Thank you,' she said. 'I'm not going to make a speech. I hate them. Just... thank you, all of you.'

  Leigh stood at the back of the room, feeling excluded from the staff chatter, realising that this was Barbara's moment, and she was best out of it so that she might enjoy the centre of the stage.

  Everyone had a glass of champagne, courtesy of the management, and Barbara whirled around talking to everyone, sparkle in her eyes and a smile on her mouth.

  After a while Leigh slipped out and went back to the office to cope with the work. The day went on somehow. Matt came back, gave her a cool look, and went into his office to begin making long telephone calls.

  The building throbbed with activity below them. Far in the bowels of the earth the printing presses thundered, the printers hot and sweating, moving from machine to machine, their aprons filthy. Vans drove in and out of the car park to collect parcels of papers. The telephones rang. People trooped through to talk to Matt and came back, nodding to Leigh.

  Barbara came back, having said all her goodbyes, and had a brief chat. 'I'm sure you've already got the hang of everything, but I've left that absolute pile of notes which you can consult if need be ... It's a good idea to keep it up to date, just in case you leave in a hurry and someone has to take over.'

  Leigh gave her a curious look, noting the tone. What did Barbara think of what she had overheard?

  Matt wandered through in shirt sleeves, his collar open, and a tired look on his face.

  He talked to Barbara for a moment, smiling at her. 'Every good wish for the wedding. I'll try to get down for it, I promise, but you know this business ...'

  'I'd like you to be there,' said Barbara. 'Try, Matt.' She collected all her things, giving the office a last glance. 'Oh, well, keep the ship afloat,' she said brightly.

  When she had gone Leigh tidied her desk, aware that Matt was standing watching her. Now that she had stopped work she was aching from head to foot. The pressures of the last two days were killing. She had to work at full stretch to keep up, and she was not surprised Barbara was relieved to give up the job. It would not be possible to combine it with running a home.

  'Dinner?' Matt asked lazily, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

  Leigh shook her head, collecting her bag and a wicker basket of shopping she had bought in her lunch hour. 'I think I'll have a bath and get to bed,' she said.

  He moved into her path. 'You aren't planning on going to that party tomorrow, are you?' There was menace in the cold voice.

  'I'm your secretary, nothing else,' she said rebelliously. 'My private life is my own affair.'

  He took her elbow in a compelling grip. 'Come into my office. I want to talk to you.'

  'I'm tired. Matt,' she protested, but he pulled her after him, despite her weary tone, and closed the door behind them.

  Leigh faced him, her chin defiant. Matt stared at her, still rubbing the back of his neck, his chin showing a faint dark stubble. There was grim weariness in his grey eyes.

  'Leigh, didn't what happened with your ex-fiance teach you anything?' he asked her flatly. 'You're no more attracted to Lianos than you are to Sam. He's a pleasant companion, no doubt, but you and I both know that there's no future in it.' He sounded almost bored as he spoke, his tone dry. 'If you get involved with the boy, you'll hurt him.

  For God's sake, leave him alone!'

  She flushed. 'You make it sound as though I were pursuing him!'

  Matt grimaced. 'You don't have to, Leigh. A sideways look gets any man you want, doesn't it?'

  She felt her pulses flutter and lowered her lashes. 'I'm not a femme fatale.'

  'Aren't you?' His voice was grim, I'd say that's just what you are. In your cool, quiet way you demolished that fiance of yours. I saw from the start just how you could make him jump with one look, and you know I saw very clearly. You told me you felt guilty about what you did to him.'

  'I do,' she protested, her eyes bitter. 'I never wanted to hurt him...

  'Then leave Lianos alone. He's not for you, any more than the other man was ... you'll only hurt him, too, and weep when you can't put the pieces back together again.'

  She flinched. 'You make me sound vile!'

  He smiled grimly. 'Cruel, Leigh ... a cruel, beautiful little cat with sharp claws. Every man who looks at you wants to stroke that soft silky coat of yours, and sometimes you let them for a moment, only to dig those sharp claws of yours into their flesh and tear them to pieces afterwards.'

  'No,' she said harshly. 'Don't talk about me like that!'

  Matt stared at her. 'I have to,' he said levelly. 'You seem to be unable to make these decisions for yourself. If you don't want to reduce young Lianos to the same desperate state you brought your fiance to, keep away from him. And from anyone else who looks at you.'

  'Including you?' she asked softly, her lashes lowered.

  There was a silence. She looked at him through her lashes and saw his hard, tired face in the glint of
late afternoon sunlight, a weary smile on his mouth, the lines of laughter, pain, experience pulling his brown skin into a cast of wry resignation.

  'I'm different,' he said. 'I've never suffered from the same illusions about you. Leigh.

  Try to use your claws on me and I'll hurt you back.' He moved suddenly, taking her by the shoulders. 'Unlike the others, Leigh, I do know how to hurt you back, don't I?'

  She quivered, looking up into his hard face. 'I won't let you,' she said huskily.

  He gave that weary smile. 'My God. I'm too tired to argue with you tonight,' he sighed, it's been a difficult week. Stop arguing, Leigh. Just tell me what I want to hear.'

  She hesitated, biting her lip. At that moment they both heard footsteps approaching her office. Matt released her suddenly, pushed open the door between his office and her own. She stared at him, puzzled. Turning back to her, he looked at her oddly, a glint in his grey eyes.

  'Leigh!'

  She heard Kit's voice as he walked through the door of her office, but before she could answer. Matt had pulled her hard into his arms and his mouth found hers, compelling her response, his hands on her back, forcing her to yield.

  She heard Kit's step halt. Matt's hands slid up to the back of her head, tilting her face backward. Leigh closed her eyes, shivering. After a moment Kit's footsteps quietly walked away. As he closed the door of her office Matt released her.

  She looked up at him, her eyes brilliant in her face. He surveyed her with a mocking smile.

  'Very clever. Matt.' she said huskily. 'But doesn't it occur to you that letting one of your own reporters see that was a stupid mistake? Within half an hour it'll be all round the building.'

  'I told you I'd stamp Hume on you so that everyone knew exactly what the situation was,' he retorted coolly.

  'Including Miss Cathy Lord?' she asked tersely.

  Matt's eyes narrowed. 'I'd forgotten Cathy,' he said, almost to himself.

  'I'm sure she'd be pleased to hear that,' said Leigh.

  Matt gave her a strange, oblique look. 'You look as tired as I feel, Leigh. I'll drive you home.'

  'No, thank you.' she said.

  'I've had enough of your arguments for one day,' he drawled, his voice bored. 'Just do as I say, Leigh. My head aches and I've got an iron band around the back of my neck.'

  'I hope it throttles you!' she snapped, walking out of the office.

  He caught her up at the lifts and they went down to the car park in silence. As he slid her into the passenger seat of his car she caught a glimpse of Kit in a small sports car, watching them, his face shadowed. Beside him sat another reporter with a faint grin on his face.

  Leigh looked down at her hands. Matt got in beside her and gave her a quizzical look.

  'Get used to it, Leigh,' he said softly. 'By Monday they'll all know.'

  'You're insane!' she muttered under her breath.

  He started the engine and the long limousine purred towards the exit. Leigh could fell Kit's eyes on them every inch of the way. She was relieved when they shot out into the daylight and the roar of Fleet Street traffic.

  Matt stopped outside Sam's house and looked at her, 'if you were a Good Samaritan you'd give me some aspirin and a cup of tea,' he said blandly. 'My head is splitting.'

  'I'd be more likely to bury a hatchet in your scalp,' she said tartly, trying the door handle.

  He followed her up the steps and Leigh eyed him irritably. 'Matt, go home and get some sleep. You look worn out.'

  He gave her a charming, pleading smile. 'All I want is a cup of tea,' he said softly.

  She sighed. 'You're impossible!'

  As they entered the house Sam came out of the kitchen, halting- as he saw Matt behind her. Leigh saw the odd look on Sam's face smooth out quickly into discreet courtesy.

  'How are you, Matt?' he asked.

  'Exhausted,' said Matt, rubbing a hand around his neck again. 'Leigh's going to dose me with aspirin.'

  Sam glanced at her, then nodded and vanished back into his own rooms. Leigh walked up the stairs, her cheeks flushed. What on earth was Sam going to think when he heard the gossip on Monday?

  In her flat she went to the kitchen to put the kettle on, while Matt lay down on the small modern couch, his head on a cushion, his eyes wearily closed.

  Leigh made tea and went back to him with a tray. He lay very still, his features smoothed out in a vulnerable expression. The regular breathing warned her that he had fallen asleep. She put the tray down and tiptoed into her kitchen, closing the door very quietly. . She prepared a liver and kidney casserole and slid it into the oven, then began to clean and prepare a salad, which she placed in the tiny refrigerator.

  Moving softly around the kitchen she did some more work, before quietly returning to the sitting-room. Matt still slept, his face turned against the cushion, his silvered black hair ruffled. Leigh sat down in a chair, her feet under her, and leaned back, watching him.

  Suddenly she heard footsteps on the stairs, and shot up, moving to her front door before anyone could knock.

  As she opened it she saw Mrs. Sam, her eyes concerned, bearing a plate of shortcake in her hands. Leigh put a finger to her lips. 'Matt's fallen asleep,' she whispered, gesturing to the couch. 'He just sat down and went out like a light.'

  Mrs. Sam's face softened. 'Poor Iamb.' she said, and Leigh's heart turned over at the expression. It was so odd used about Matt.

  'I brought up this shortcake for his tea,' Mrs. Sam added, handing her the plate. 'He loves it.'

  'Thank you,' Leigh whispered. 'I don't like to wake him, he's so tired.'

  Mrs. Sam gave her another odd look, and nodded. 'You're right,' she whispered. 'If he goes home there's only that man who runs the flat for him and he's no use to man or beast. Oh, he does the work, but he's a stiff sort of fellow. There's nobody to make Matt stop working when he's worn out.' She turned to go. 'Will you be all right with him, Leigh?'

  The question was casual, but Leigh could sense the curiosity behind it.

  'Yes,' she said, her tone noncommittal. 'Thank you, Mrs. Sam.'

  Leigh closed the door quietly and returned to her chair. Matt went on sleeping, the hard lines of his face relaxed and softened. The room darkened. She did not like to put on any light in case it woke him. The warmth of the summer light faded, leaving her chill.

  She would have liked to switch on an electric fire, but that too might disturb him. At one point she went into the kitchen and turned down the casserole to simmer slowly. A delicious fragrance filled the room. Her stomach clamoured for food, but she went back to Matt, closing the door.

  He woke up a while later, turning restlessly, his head falling back against the leather couch arm. He opened his eyes, frowning, and for a moment his face was confused.

  Leigh watched him, curled up in her chair like a little girl, her head on her knees.

  His eyes peered through the shadowy room towards her. She wondered in amusement if he remembered where he was, then his voice said lazily-, 'Let down your golden hair, Leigh.'

  She laughed. 'You've slept for two hours. Feel better?'

  He stretched, his arms above his head, the long hard muscles of his lean body tightening. Leigh's heart gave a flip inside her breast. She got up to hide the momentary response.

  'I've got a liver casserole in the oven. Hungry?'

  'Ravenous,' he said.

  She went into the kitchen, switching on a lamp so that the room was filled with soft light, dispelling the dark shadows. While she was serving the meal she heard Matt moving in the room, and when she moved back, carrying warm plates, the casserole and the salad on a tray, she found he had switched on the fire and drawn the curtains.

  The room looked quite different now, filled with warmth and light. Matt began to lay the small dining table in the window alcove and she laid out the dinner in the centre.

  'We ought to have some wine.' he said, seating her.

  She gave him a wry look. 'Be grateful for getting anything,' she said
tartly.

  He grinned at her, his eyes caressing. 'Thank you for letting me sleep, Leigh. You were tired too. You still look tired.'

  She served the meal, the fragrant odour of the casserole making her nostrils quiver with hunger. They ate in comparative silence, the atmosphere peaceful between them.

  The accustomed tension of his presence in the same room seemed to have seeped away during the evening. She felt oddly at home, her mind and body relaxed.

  They washed up together, moving around the small kitchen, their eyes meeting occasionally. Afterwards Matt went into the sitting-room and found her cassette player, sliding a cassette into the compartment. Leigh stood in the doorway, watching as he stretched out on the couch, his legs lazily relaxed, his hands behind his head. He patted the seat beside him silently, returning his head to rest beside his chair.

  Leigh felt a reluctant quiver of unrest, eyeing him. He grinned at her, reading her expression. 'I'm going in half an hour,' he said. 'Sit down and relax, Leigh. You're tired and so am I.'

  She sat down, her body poised for escape. The rich soft sounds of Brahms stole across the room. Matt's arm uncoiled and fell across her shoulders, pulling her closer, his hands pushing her blonde head down against his chest. For a brief second she was on the point of resistance, but he was right: she was too tired. She sighed, relaxing against him, her legs automatically curling up underneath her in a posture of total comfort. His hand gently fiddled with her pins, releasing her hair. She smiled faintly.

  'Leave my hair alone.'

  'It's like the golden shower of Danae,' he said, running his fingers through it. 'Fine gold gleaming in the firelight.'

  'I would never have called you romantic. Matt,' she commented, turning her cheek against him so that she could look into his face.

  He dropped a light kiss on her nose. 'Men are always romantic at heart. They just hate women to find out. Women are the hard-headed half of the race.'

  Do you like Brahms?' she asked, finding the warmth of his body against her deeply seductive.

  'Very much,' he said, his hands playing with her hair. He lifted a great swathe of it, his mouth brushing it. 'Is it the shampoo you use that makes your hair smell of "owers?'