Lucifer's Brand

by Nicola West

  'Not up to you? Then who is it up to?' He didn't answer and she cried: 'It's Ryan, isn't it? It's all to do with that merger, just as Roxanne said! Oh, Luke, why won't you see sense? Why can't you be satisfied? What does it matter about the merger—don't you have enough money? Is it just plain greed?'

  Luke said nothing. His eyes narrowed and Flair flinched away, suddenly afraid that he was going to hit her. Her previous fears—fears she had only in the last day laughed at and thought foolish—came flooding back and she was aware of his strength and power.

  Luke spoke at last, his voice flat.

  'All right, Flair, get up. Get dressed, and then get out.'

  'Get—out?' Her eyes were huge green pools in her white face. 'But --'

  'Okay,' he said, 'you win. You never did want me to make love to you, did you, not really? Oh, your body wants it—you can't fool me about that. But you yourself—you're just stringing me along again, same as you always did. Up to the door, then slam it in my face. So that's it. I won't be taken in again.'

  'Luke, I didn't --'

  'It's this big innocent act that always gets me!' he exploded. 'The big wide eyes, the pained voice. "Oh, Luke, I never meant it like that," ' he minced. 'Like hell you didn't! It's the same old story, isn't it? I was right at the start—you're just a tease. And did I fall for it! I must want my head read.' He turned and paced over to the window. 'You don't really care about your father at all. It's just a blind, just something to use to break things up. Well, you've done it. And it's for the last time, you'd better believe that. From now on, Luke Seager steers very, very clear of little Flair Pattison.'

  Flair wrapped herself in the duvet and ran across the room towards him. She didn't know now what she believed—she only knew that somehow this misunderstanding must be cleared up. But as she reached him, Luke whipped round and said savagely:

  'I warn you, Flair, if I touch you now I won't answer for the consequences. My God, do you want to drive me mad?' He looked her up and down. 'Just what did they teach you at that posh English boarding school anyway?' he sneered. 'How to destroy your man in three easy lessons? You've really got it coming to you, you know that?' His eyes burned into her while she stood there, clutching the duvet around her. Then, with a stifled groan, he dragged her towards him, swinging her off her feet to hold her against him. His teeth ground against her mouth as he swung her back to the bed and flung her down again, wrenching the duvet away from her near-naked body. She felt -the full, hard weight of his body as he bore down upon her, and the cruel strength of his hands as he held her to him. The taste of blood filtered through her teeth and as he finally released her mouth she drew a sharp inward breath and turned her head away, gasping and sobbing.

  Luke jerked his body away and stood up. When she opened her eyes he was standing fully dressed at the side of the bed, looking down at her with contempt in his eyes.

  'That's just a taste, Flair,' he grated. 'Try me one more time and you get the full measure, no holds barred—so be warned!'

  Flair closed her eyes again, letting the tears trickle out from under the lids. She heard Luke move away; heard the door open and close; and rolled over on to her side, crying now in real earnest.

  She wasn't quite sure what she was weeping for. Whether because she loved Luke, or because she hated him. Because he had humiliated her, or because she still, in spite of everything, wanted him.

  She only knew that his behaviour towards her father had made it impossible ever to feel either the contented companionship that she had experienced only a day or two earlier, or the soaring rapture that she had known when he kissed her under the tingle tree. Nor, she thought unhappily, was she ever likely to experience them with any other man.

  Whether she liked it or not, Luke had set his brand on her, and she would never be able to be free of him.

  Jeff, clad only in shorts and a loose shirt, was sitting in his favourite chair reading the West Australian when Flair came in later that evening. He glanced up with a smile, and his eyes sharpened.

  'Flair? What is it—you look exhausted.' He looked closer. 'And you've been crying, surely. Flair, what's happened?'

  She gave him a faint smile. It had taken her a long time, in Luke's luxurious bathroom, to remove the worst of the tear-stains, and then she'd walked for an hour or more beside the river, hoping that the fresh air would do the trick. But time was the only thing that would reduce the puffiness of her eyes, and she wasn't surprised that her father had noticed them.

  'It's all right, Dad. Nothing much has happened. It's just that—well, Luke and I had a bit of a row and I've left the job, that's all.'

  'You've left the job? Left Luke?' Jeff's voice was distressed, and he ran his fingers through his hair as he always did when agitated. 'My dear --'

  'Please, Dad, I don't want to talk about it.' She sank into a chair and let her head flop back. 'I just want to go to bed and sleep and sleep, and forget it all. It hasn't been easy.'

  'I never realised you were unhappy --'

  'Well, I hoped it might settle down in time. But it didn't and there it is.' She looked up at him. 'Don't sympathise Dad, for heaven's sake, or I'll start crying again.'

  He looked doubtful, but said no more. Flair closed her eyes again and heard him go out to the kitchen and make tea. In a few minutes he was back with a steaming cup, which she took gratefully.

  'What are you going to do now?' he asked at last. 'Take a holiday, or look for another job? You don't have to, you know. I shan't in the least mind if you decide to have a break. After all, you wouldn't even have started work now if Luke hadn't wanted you sooner than we'd arranged.'

  'No ... I don't know.' Flair stirred her tea thoughtfully. 'I don't really feel like a holiday, somehow. I think I need some occupation, if only for a few weeks.' A thought occurred to her and she paused. 'As a matter of fact, I think I do know what I'll do. . . . Dad, have you ever met Dougie and Lance Carnagy? At Augusta? They run a small hotel there—rather a shabby little place, but comfy.'

  'Dougie and Lance?' said Jeff. 'I should say I have! Did you stay there on the way down south, then? Wish I'd known—I could have sent them a message. Rude, of course!' He twinkled at her. 'They're a fine pair. But you're not thinking of going down there, are you, Flair?'

  '1 don't know,' she answered honestly. 'But I just might. They were saying they needed a hand with the books and correspondence—even offered me a job. I know it was a joke really, but at the same time ... I think it could be what I need just now, Dad. Something completely different—quiet, undemanding, out of the rat-race. It would give me time. Time to collect myself, if you like.'

  Jeff looked at her gravely. '1 won't ask any questions,' he said, 'but it seems to me that there's a lot more behind this than simply leaving a job you don't like, or even an employer you don't get on with. If there's anything I can do to help, Flair. . . .'

  She finished her tea and smiled at him.

  'Not really. There's nothing anyone can do. But thanks for offering, all the same.' She stood up and stretched. 'Do you know, I feel better already. I'm going to have a long, luxurious bath and put on something soft and long and not quite respectable enough to go out in. Then I think I'll ring Dougie and Lance. Just to see if they've any vacancies for the next week or two.'

  CHAPTER NINE

  The sea at Canal Rocks was sparkling blue, topped with mounds of white foam that looked like puffs of whipped cream. Flair sat above the water with Lance, watching the boiling waves hurl themselves at the rocks to spray high in a burst of glittering droplets and stream down over the red rock formations to return to their own element. The long, rugged reef that ran parallel with the shore and gave the rocks their name was hidden every few moments in a surge of green and blue and white as yet another roller made landfall from the Indian Ocean, and she was aware of a power and energy greater than any humans had yet devised.

  'Enjoying it?' Lance asked softly, and she smiled and nodded at him. Inside, she was wondering ruefully if it
was true; but she could not have said so to Lance. And in a strange way, she was enjoying it. Even though the beauty itself twisted her heart with pain, even though the man at her side wasn't the man she longed to be with, she wouldn't have missed it. The pain was all she had of Luke, she thought sadly. Missing him was the only form her love could take. And if that were the case, then she must cherish her pain and her loneliness, for without them she had nothing at all.

  Flair had been with Dougie and Lance for almost three weeks now. She recalled their surprise when she had rung them to make sure they could give her a room. They had expected Luke to be coming with her too; when she'd said not, there had been an odd little silence at the other end of the line, until Dougie said with obvious tact: 'Well, of course we'll be glad to see you, girl. You come on down and we'll have our best room ready for you. And maybe a little book-keeping, too, since you're offering!'

  It had been just what Flair needed, their casual acceptance of her. Neither of them had asked any questions, and if she had occasionally caught Dougie's bright eyes watching her with curiosity, or Lance looking at her with rather more fondness than she wanted to encourage, neither of them had ever expressed their feelings. In their company, relaxed and undemanding, she could at last unwind and come to terms with her own emotions.

  'It's been real beaut having you here, Flair,' Lance said at last. 'You make all the difference to the place. I was thinking, maybe we could smarten things up a bit. Paint up the chalets, get some better furniture—you'd know the kind of thing. Enlarge it a bit, even. What do you think?'

  'I don't know, Lance,' Flair said slowly. 'Don't you think it would lose its atmosphere? Oh, I know you need to redecorate, but do you really want to alter things too much? People like it as it is.'

  'Yeah, but Luke says you shouldn't stand still. Progress, he says, that's what gets you on in the world. And look at him! He wouldn't have let our motel stay the way it is, not for a day. He'd have had the place ripped out and started over fresh, and it'd have been a real bonza place with all the rich folk coming to stay --'

  'But is that what you want?' Flair interrupted. 'Yes, Luke probably would have done that, because that's the kind of place he runs. It's the thing he's good at.' The thing we're both good at, the thing we could have done together, she thought miserably. 'But you and Dougie—you wouldn't be happy doing that. Your motel is exactly right for you and for the people who come to stay here.'

  'And you?' asked Lance, so quietly that she didn't hear him and he had to repeat it. 'Is it right for you, Flair?'

  Flair realised what he was leading up to and her heart sank. She had thought that her lack of encouragement, her determination to keep things on a merely friendly footing, had got through to the tall, shy Australian at her side. Whatever Luke had thought of her, she knew she had never intended to hurt Lance.

  'For me?' she said. 'I don't see how I come into it. I'm just staying for a while, helping you out and having a nice lazy time. Yes, just at the moment the motel is exactly right for me.'

  'That's not what I meant.' Lance turned to her, his eyes dark and urgent and she knew that she must take him seriously. 'I mean for good. For life. Is it the kind of place you want to run? Or is that Luke's sort of place? Because—' he stopped and swallowed, and Flair felt deeply sorry for him '—because whatever it is you want, then that's what I want. And Dad'll go along with it.' He reached out and held her gently by the shoulders. 'Take time to think about it if you like, Flair, I'm not asking you to decide right now. Just remember—things'll be the way you want them. So say whatever you like.'

  'Lance,' Flair said gently, 'just what is it you're saying? Are you offering me a job—asking me to stay on and help manage the motel if you expand it? Is that it?'

  He frowned and shook his head. 'Of course not! Flair, you must know how I feel about you. I want you to marry me—I'm asking you to be my wife. Yeah, I'd like us to stay on at the motel and make a good thing of it—but if you want something different, okay, we'll think about that. You just have to say, Flair.'

  Flair sighed. When Lance had asked her if she would like this trip up to Canal Rocks, she had thought it was to be nothing more than a day out. It hadn't occurred to her that he might be intending it as a romantic situation for a proposal. Wrapped up in her own unhappiness over Luke, she hadn't seen that Lance's admiration and fondness for her had deepened into something more.

  She knew that she couldn't let it go any further. There was nothing for her with Lance, nothing for him with her, whatever he might think now. Easygoing as he was, good companions as they were, marriage could be nothing but disaster for them both. Love on one side just wasn't enough.

  'Lance,' she said softly, 'I can't marry you. I'm sorry—but it wouldn't work.' She sighed. 'I wish I thought it could. You'd make such a good husband—kind, considerate, easygoing. Nice to be with. But ‑'

  'But that isn't enough,' said Lance as she hesitated. 'Is that it?'

  'Yes. Yes, that's it. I'm sorry, Lance.'

  There was a long silence. They both stared at the swirling, eddying water. The boom of the waves on distant rocks filled their ears. The sea gushed between the rocks and surged almost to their feet.

  'It's Luke, isn't it?' said Lance at last.

  The name went through Flair like a spear and she couldn't repress an involuntary shiver. Was she never going to be free? she asked herself in anguish. Was his name always to have this effect on her?

  'Yes,' she said, knowing that nothing less than the truth would do. 'Yes, it's Luke.'

  'You're in love with him?' She nodded, and he asked: 'And what about him?'

  Flair shrugged helplessly. 'I don't know. I don't know if he's even capable of love. I thought he was— but then I found out something else. Things I can't talk about, Lance.' She turned her face away, feeling a stab of jealousy at the involuntary vision of Roxanne standing with Luke at the altar of St George's Cathedral, and a shaft of anger at the recollection of what he had done to her father.

  'Well, I guess that's it, then,' said Lance after a long moment. 'But—Flair --' His hand touched her gently on the arm—'I don't think I'm going to change either. And if you ever feel you need me— any way at all—you come right here and tell me so. You will, won't you?'

  'Oh, Lance,' Flair sighed through her tears, 'you're so good to me. I wish—I truly wish things could have been different.'

  'Promise,' he persisted, and she nodded and tried a watery smile.

  'I promise.'

  They sat for a little longer, talking a little but staying for the most part silent. And when they got up at last to go back to Augusta, Flair was aware that their relationship had changed. There was a deeper companionship between them now; an understanding that hadn't been there before. Whatever happened, she knew that she and Lance would always be friends of a very special kind, and the knowledge warmed her lonely heart.

  If only, she thought sadly as they got back into Lance's battered station wagon, she could have had even this much rapport with Luke.

  By the time she woke next morning, Flair knew that the moment had come for her to leave Dougie and Lance. They had been good to her, they had given her the breathing space she needed; but now there was nothing more to be gained by staying. And it would be better for Lance, too, if she went, so that he could forget her, so that he could begin to live again as contentedly as he had before she arrived. His love hadn't gone deeply enough yet for him to be badly hurt, she was sure of that—but if she Were to stay he could only be made more unhappy.

  For his sake and for her own, she must leave.

  Quietly she slipped out of bed and padded over to the window. It was a cool, slightly misty morning, and there was a little cloud on the horizon. It was still early enough for the weather to be uncertain, though when it did rain it never lasted for long, however heavily it might pour down. She remembered that day in the tingle forest with Luke and the old familiar heat of longing washed over her body. She hadn't heard of Luke since she left P
erth, and she wondered what he was doing. Probably arranging his wedding with Roxanne, she thought ruefully. Or maybe even married.

  There had been a letter from Jeff waiting for her when she arrived home with Lance last night. It had told her little, beyond assuring her that everything was all right and that he was keeping fit and busy— all too busy, she thought bitterly, looking for work to replace the contracts Luke had broken. He hadn't mentioned Luke, but had said that he looked forward to seeing her soon. There was a wistful note about the letter that caught at her heart. Perhaps she ought to return to Perth. Her father was missing her, it was plain. But until she felt more able to cope with knowing that Luke was near, that she might meet him at any time, she knew she couldn't do that.

  The most sensible thing would be to look for another job, something that would occupy her too active mind and take her through the days without giving her time to brood. Turning away from the window, she picked up a weekly paper and flicked it open at the situations vacant columns. Maybe there'd be something here.

  She was never quite sure afterwards what made her apply for the job in Geraldton. On paper, it looked no better than any other job; yet as she read it, she was seized with the determination to get it, even if she had to drive up there and twist the manager's arm to make him give it to her. She didn't stop to wonder why.

  Perhaps, she thought afterwards, it was because it was in the opposite direction from anywhere she had been with Luke. Just over three hundred miles north of Perth, it would be completely different. Somewhere that held no memories for her, somewhere she could start completely fresh. And as she went to the phone in the motel office and dialled the number given in the advertisement, her fingers shook with an excitement she hadn't felt for weeks. Perhaps there she could begin to forget Luke and live again.

  She had begun to speak to the manager and was delighted to find that the vacancy hadn't been filled, when a sound made her look up. She saw the big station wagon roll into view outside, and her heart froze. Her voice died in her throat and it was only after her wildly jumping heart had steadied a little that she was aware of the man at the other end of the line asking if she was still there.