Some Sort of Spell
Page 8
*My car's over this way.' Elliott took hold of her arm, guiding her down a narrow alley to a small side street.
Although she was aching to ask him just exactly what he had been trying to do by implying that he found her...her body...sexually desirable, Beatrice doubted that she had the self-control to do so. One betraying memory of how it had felt to be touched and caressed by him would be enough to tear apart any fiction of cool uninterest she might try to weave, and her voice would be the first thing to betray her—she knew it.
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She steeled herself against flinching as Elliott handed her into his car. It was folly to have given in so easily. She ought to have insisted on going home with the others... Round and round her thoughts swarmed Uke tired moths beating their wings against a hot flame.
She tensed as Elliott got into the car and started the engine. Immediately her senses were swamped by the proximity and the maleness of him. She could smell his soap, see the muscles tensing in his thigh as he changed gear. Even without looking at him she was intimately aware of how the soft cotton of his shirt would chng to his torso, of how his hair grew thickly into the nape of his neck, of how his jaw would feel in the morning when he needed a shave.
She shivered convulsively, appalled by the direction of her wayward thoughts. Lucilla was right, she accepted with self-disgust; her awareness of EUiott was beginning to take on an almost farcical quality. She reminded herself of the classic spinster aunt of the family in hot pursuit of an unfortunate and unwilling victim.
It was an ugly picture, one which made her squeeze her eyes tightly closed on a wave of anguished remorse. She didn't really desire Elliott ... she couldn't. She didn't even like him. But when she opened her eyes and looked at him, the pulse leaping hotly through her body couldn't be ignored.
Tm sorry if you were embarrassed by what Lucilla said tonight, Bea.'
Her mouth tightened, her emotions caught halfway between pain and rage.
*What's the matter? Not sulking, are you?'
He was reducing her to the status of a spoiled child. Her fingers clenched in her lap and she felt tears sting her eyes.
*No one would have paid any attention to what Lucilla said if you hadn't...' She stopped abruptly, already aware that she had said too much, but instead of prompting her to go on Elliott said softly, *yowdid.'
Beneath the softness was a definite challenge, and her pride urged her that it was one she could not... must not ignore.
Fighting against the cramping sensation of panic seizing her insides, she began unsteadily, 'I...'
*I do know why you've been avoiding me so assiduously lately, you know, Bea, but there's really no need.'
That he dared to say that to her now, heaping further humiliation on top of what she had already endured, was too much. Did he really think she was stupid enough to beheve that he was genuinely attracted to her, that he had genuinely wanted the sensation of her skin beneath his hands? She made a small, almost animal-Uke moan of pain under her breath and protested huskily, 'I'm not avoiding you. I...'
Then prove it to me. Have lunch with me on Saturday.'
She couldn't hide her sudden start of shock, her eyes instinctively Ufting to his face, as though somehow she would read something in his ex-
pression that would confirm that this was all some kind of crazy joke.
She realised she ought to have known better. Elliott was adept at not giving his feelings or thoughts away. He glanced briefly at her, a humorous, almost indulgent smile Ufting his mouth.
Toor Bea! You don't know what to think, do you? You've been conditioned too long and too weU. Well?'
He couldn't be serious. It was a joke.. .a trap. Her face burned as she imagined him laughing with Lucilla over her guUibihty.
'I...' Her mind scrabbled desperately for a dignified excuse. *I...'
She heard Elliott laugh softly.
'What are you so afraid of, Bea?'
*Not you.' The hot, adolescent denial was voiced before she could check it, and as he looked away from her she thought she saw an amused and satisfied smile curve his mouth.
*Then have lunch with me,' he said softly, 'and prove it.' He gave her a sidelong look. 'Unless of course you're scared that Lucilla's right.'
She felt her colour rise along with her temper and said rashly, 'Don't be ridiculous!'
'Good, so it's agreed. On Saturday we're having lunch together. Where would you like to go?'
She felt literally tongue-tied, and knew she had been driven into a baited trap by an expert hunter. But why? She risked a glance into his face, and saw that he was still looking amused.
'I...'
'You'd prefer to leave it to me. Wise girl.'
It was a very weak protest, especially in view of the fact that she ought to have been telling him there was no way she would have lunch with him on Saturday, or any other day.
The corners of his mouth twitched, and Beatrice felt aware of heat scorching her body as he stopped the car and looked his leisurely fill of her.
She had been so infuriated, so engrossed, that she hadn't even realised they were home, and as she reached out to fumble with the door handle, he covered her hand with his own and leaned towards he
r. She tensed, remembering the previous occasion she had been alone in his car with him. Appallingly her body remembered it too, and beneath their covering of wool and lace she felt the unmistakable and provocative response of her breasts to his closeness.
He seemed to fill the car, snatching the air from her lungs and making it hard for her to breathe. He wasn't that close to her, but the warm musky scent of his body seemed to engulf her, affecting her in the most peculiar way.
Lucilla was right, she decided miserably; she was a frustrated spinster, an apology for a woman who went weak at the knees and melted inside just because a member of the opposite sex sat close to her. But as hard as she berated herself, her brain provided her with irreproachable examples of her im-perviousness to any number of men, thus heightening her sense of danger to the point where she could hardly breathe for the dread pursuing her.
^Something wrong?'
The dulcet question, quite unmistakably edged with the same amusement that had curved his mouth earlier, set further alarm bells ringing.
For some reason Elliott was amused by her. No doubt the fact that she was inexperienced and undesirable amused him, she raged impotently. No doubt he enjoyed making fun of her... humiliating her...
'I... Why did you pretend it was your birthday?' she asked him, and was immediately furious with herself because that was not what she had intended to say at all.
The laughter died out of his eyes and the look he gave her was an odd one. If she hadn't known better she might almost have supposed that emotionally he was moved by the fact that she had known it wasn't his birthday.
She blinked, convinced that she was beginning to see things, and heard him say,
'I didn't realise you knew.'
For some reason it had become imperative to tell him that not only hadn't she known, but also that she hadn't cared to know.
*I didn't. WiUiam told me. He's been doing astrology at school... Scorpio and Taurus are compatible, he says.' She broke off her disjointed sentence, appalled by the reckless direction of her own thoughts, and then realised that Elliott was looking at her rather grimly, almost as though she had disappointed him in some way.
*Ah, I see. William... Now there's a Bellaire who makes one think there's still hope for the human race,' he commented obliquely, leaning so close to
her that she automatically pressed herself back into the seat to preserve some space between them, and then she felt the door give and realised foolishly that he had simply been opening it for her.
^You two took your time getting back/ Benedict commented suspiciously when they walked in. *What happened? Did you run out of petrol?*
Beatrice coloured and looked at him pleadingly, but Elliott seemed completely unmoved by his crass comment.
*I never run out of petrol, Benedict,' he responded lazily. 'It smacks too much of bad planning. The female sex, especially when it's being seduced, does not as a rule take kindly to bad planning. A fact I see you have yet to discover,' he added with a kindly avuncularity that brought a dark frown to Benedict's eyes.
Sebastian grinned appreciatively. *He's got you outmanoeuvred there, brother dear!'
William, who had helped himself to a shce of plum cake which he was stuffing into his mouth, paused long enough to say through a mouthful of crumbs, *EUiott could run rings round Ben any day of the week.'
Why had she never noticed before that even when ElUott wasn't smiUng his eyes seemed to gleam with inner humour? Beatrice wondered as she heard him gravely thanking her youngest brother for his comphment.
All in all, she was glad that the day was nearly over; and equally glad to be able to escape from her family to the peace and solitude of her own room.
Resolutely she refused to allow herself the self-indulgence of dwelling on the events of the evening, but one thing she was determined upon. She would find out exactly why Elliott was trying to give the impression that he was interested in her as a woman. There was some purpose behind it, there had to be. She was not so foolish as to be taken in by him, and she would discover exactly what that purpose was, she told herself. In fact, that was the only reason she had agreed to have lunch with him.
Feeling much better, she dismissed her earlier feeUng of vulnerability, not to say fear that she was dangerously responsive to the maleness of Elliott in a way that showed her that she was not as impervious to sexual desire and love as she had always supposed.
Love? For EUiott Chalmers? How ridiculous! And yet... and yet...
Thoroughly frightened, she stopped what she was doing. Of course she didn't love Elliott. How could she? But something deep inside her refused to be reassured.
CHAPTER SIX
On Wednesday Beatrice was frantically busy typing out the schedules Jon had brought back with him from his agent. Several phone calls during the day meant alterations in them, and by three o'clock in the afternoon she felt exhausted.
There was an empty block of six weeks in the middle of the schedules, and when she queried this Jon explained that he was already contracted to spend that period in Italy working in Florence with a small but renowned opera company.
She had only been working for Jon for a matter of days, but already she was beginning to enjoy herself and she wondered what she would be supposed to do while he was in Italy. Although he was as vague and demanding as a small child, looking after one man as compared with looking after her entire volatile family was a sinecure. She had always loved music, but before there had never really been any time for her to develop that love. Now she found, hstening to Jon playing while she worked in the adjoining study, her interest deepening and growing.
The theatre exclusively dominated the lives of her brothers and sisters. Music was part of that world, but not its centre. At school she had once been told she had a pretty voice, and now she found herself wishing it was strongs, and that she had at least
one artistic gift that could match the cornucopia of talents showered down upon her family.
She was so busy at work she barely had time to notice Benedict's sulks, or Lucilla's dramatics. It was Henrietta who told her that Lucilla had an» nounced that she was going to move out of the Wimbledon house and find her own flat, and, to her surprise, Beatrice found she really did not particularly care. In the past, whenever Lucilla had thrown that particular gauntlet at her, she had been motivated by guilt and responsibility into pleading with her to stay, her pleas all the more intense because inwardly she felt that there was nothing she would Uke more than for Lucilla's turbulent presence to be removed from the house. But Lucilla was in a way as much her responsibiUty as the others, and she had never been able to escape thinking that her father would have wanted and expected her to keep Lucilla within the shelter of the family home.
Now, when she listened to Henrietta's news, she simply nodded, and said that Lucilla was old enough to make her own decisions.
'Now that's exactly what I said,' Henrietta approved, 'and unless I miss my mark that young lady is well aware which side her bread's buttered. Take it from me, when she realises that no one's going to pay any attention to her little tantrum, she'll soon change her tune, but Master Ben would have it that you'd raise heaven and earth to get her to stay. He even seemed to think you'd blame Master Elliott for her leaving... seemed to relish the idea too, although heaven knows why.' She glanced thought-
fully at Beatrice's set face and added placidly, *Well, I suppose it's bound to put his nose out of joint a little bit, having Master Elliott living here, when he's been used to considering himself the head of the family.' She chuckled indulgently as though Benedict was no more than five years old, and indeed, Beatrice thought guiltily, sometimes her brother reminded her more of a sulky child than a fully grown adult-She hadn't told anyone about her Saturday lunch date. Part of her was hoping Elliott would forget, or that by some miraculous means the rest of the family would disappear on Saturday morning, thus ensuring that no one other than herself was aware of her folly.
She hoped in vain.
'No, he's just put out about you going out for lunch with Elliott on Saturday.'
*He... he knows about that?'
'Yes,' Sebastian told her carelessly. 'Elliott mentioned it when Ben asked him if he could borrow his car. He said he wasn't going to risk taking you out to lunch in Ben's in case it ran out of petrol.' Sebastian grinned down at her. 'I'll leave you to imagine the rest. Elliott's right, you know, you spoil us all dreadfully,' he added obliquely.
Although Benedict didn't say a word to her, Beatrice was intensely conscious of the atmosphere pervading the sitting-room when she walked in.
Benedict and Elliott were playing chess.
Benedict played it as he did everything, with verve, skill and showmanship. EUiott's moves were quieter, more studied... and deadlier, Beatrice noticed, biting her Up anxiously as she watched Elliott take yet another of Benedict's pawns.
It struck her quite forcibly, watching them, that there was more to the game than seemed initially obvious. It was as though Benedict was dehberately challenging Elliott. But over what, and why?
She crinkled her forehead as she tried to remember if there had been any animosity between the two of them in the past. Apart from ElUott's refusal to buy Benedict an expensive car, there was nothing. No, it was only since Elliott had been living with them that this odd antagonism seemed to have sprung to life. Until recently she had thought she was the only member of the family who felt prickly and defensive in Elliott's presence. It came as rather a shock to realise that her self-assured brother was on the defensive, and she looked at Elliott with new eyes.
At that very moment he looked up himself, and the way he looked at her made her feel acutely odd. Her legs seemed to have lost all their muscle tone, her stomach felt weak and achy, and her head buzzed as though she was about to faint. She fought off the sensation, frightened by it. She seemed to be frightened all the time these days, and Elliott was at the root of that fear.
Not for the first time she wished she had never allowed herself to be so foolishly trapped into having lunch with him, but she sensed that she would not be allowed to wriggle out of it now.