Duel of Desire

by Charlotte Lamb

  'I've never suspected you since…' he began, his voice trailing away under her gaze.

  'If you were quite certain about me I think your family would be, too,' she said flatly.

  Robin sighed. 'Mother…' he began, then fell silent.

  'Mother,' Deborah said ironically.

  'You can see her point of view,' he said quickly. 'She doesn't know you. She only knows…'

  'What you tell her,' she broke in bitterly.

  'Deb, I love you,' he appealed, leaning very quickly towards her, his hand grasping at hers.

  Her face was still for a second, staring at him, then the hardness drained out of her features and her blue eyes smiled at him. The warmth in his voice was convincing.

  They ate their second course in more harmonious conditions than the first. Looking at Robin as he talked about one of the accounts, Deborah felt a surge of affection for him. All her life she had longed to have a home, somewhere gentle, calm and full of security. As a child at school she had seen the other girls go home for the holidays with bitter envy, hearing them talk of their families with only her own lonely days shut away out of her uncle's sight to look forward to, knowing that the only emotion her uncle felt towards her was irritation and duty. She had dreamt of belonging to someone. Meeting Robin, she had felt he offered her the sort of background she had never had — loving family surroundings, relatives, a warm concerned future. She had not missed the passion Robin never offered her. It did not enter into her view of the sort of life she desired so deeply.

  Robin's strong, capable face and placid nature had attracted her whenever they met in the beginning, and when, hesitantly, he made slight overtures to her, she had responded. It had never occurred to her that gossip linked her name with that of Alex St James. She had been circumspect with him. She had put up an unbreachable wall between them, and to be blamed for doing something she had always resisted so firmly seemed bitterly unfair.

  Deborah's desire for a warm family life had made her detest the idea of having an affair with anyone. She had observed Alex over the past four years, during relationships with a series of beautiful girls, and the untidy, anguished nature of such a life was alien to her. She had felt irritation, pity and scorn for his willing victims. For Alex she had felt hostility and contempt.

  To her love was a word which hid a concept of life — she had no place for the wild storms of passion, the sweetness of sensuality. They were destructive, she had decided. From an early age she had avoided them.

  As they drank their coffee, Robin said quietly, 'In a family as close as mine you have to expect other people to have their views about everything, Deb. You'll have to live with them, you know.'

  'Do you mean that I'm on approval with your parents, Robin?' she asked sharply.

  'No,' he said. 'I've told them I'm serious — they know that. But it is important that Mother likes you. I'm fond of my family. We're very close-knit and we care about each other.'

  The words soothed her. It was unfair to complain when part of his real attraction for her was that close-knit family background.

  She looked at him, sighing. 'I'll be on my best behaviour,' she said, half teasingly. 'I want to be friends with your mother.'

  Robin relaxed. 'You'll like her. She's a very friendly person. Our house is always full of people. Mother isn't house-proud, but she does like to fill the place with friends.' He grinned at her. 'You're more domesticated than she is, Deb. I've told her what a wonderful housewife you'll make… how tidy your flat is, despite Judith.'

  She laughed. Her flatmate, Judith, was absentminded and untidy, and their few rows came about because Judith had no idea of keeping order around her. She knew already that Robin's mother had a number of hobbies; painting flowers, playing the piano by ear, gardening. Robin had often laughed about his mother's untidiness, his tone indulgent.

  'I'm sure I shall get on with your mother,' she said. 'I've heard so much about her.'

  Robin looked worried. 'I haven't bored you with my family, have I? I know I tend to talk about them all the time, but a family is important, isn't it?'

  'Very important,' she agreed eagerly. 'I love hearing about your family. All my life I've missed having one. I feel as if yours was mine, too.'

  He smiled broadly. 'It soon will be!'

  In the lift, returning to the office, Robin slid an arm around her shoulders and she turned her face towards him expectantly. Discreetly, he preferred to kiss in private, and the brief, gentle embrace bore no resemblance to the violence with which Alex had kissed her earlier. In her mind, irritably, she compared the two, telling herself she preferred Robin's controlled warmth.

  Looking up at him, she asked hesitantly, 'Would it help to smooth the weekend if I told your family I was leaving my job with Alex?'

  Robin looked horrified. 'Darling, you aren't, are you? You'd never earn such a good salary anywhere else! We'll need your money in the first two years after we're married, remember. The sort of house we want will be very expensive, and you know we agreed not to start a family until we could easily afford it.'

  She looked at him, half despairingly. 'But if your mother thinks…' she began faintly, but he shook his head.

  'Once Mother meets you, she'll know for certain you aren't the sort of girl to fall for Alex,' he said with conviction. 'It's very convenient to have both of us working at the same place. I can run you home after work. We'll be together all day.' His brown eyes were warm as he smiled down at her, stepping out of the lift. 'It will be marvellous. We'll have a wonderful life. Our combined income will make things so much easier.'

  When she entered her own office Deborah stood for a moment, frowning. Seeing a shadow on the glass between her room and that of Alex, she walked across and opened the door to inform him that she had thought better of her resignation. The thought of telling Robin her real reasons for leaving was too thorny.

  Her eyes took in what she saw with a feeling of bitter anger as Sammy Starr, her thin arms around Alex's neck, pulled her head back from the passionate kiss they were exchanging, and said, 'Hi! I've just signed my contract… back on the old chain. Just when I was thinking of kicking the habit of adoring Alex and found a more faithful master…'

  Deborah smiled politely, her blue eyes frozen. 'Glad to be keeping you with us, Sammy,' she said, ignoring Alex's sardonic glance. 'I expected you to arrive later.'

  'I talked Alex into buying me lunch,' Sammy said, pulling down her skimpy sweater. The jeans she was wearing were far too tight, but her boyishly slender body had an aggressively sensual sway as she sauntered to the door. 'See you, Alex,' she said, waving as she departed.

  Alex leaned back against his desk, eyeing Deborah. 'A pity all our artists aren't as easy to handle as Sammy.'

  'You manage to handle most of them,' she said pointedly.

  He made a wry face. 'Sarcasm! I've just eaten a heavy lunch. Spare me the daggers, Miss Portman.' Under his thick, dark lashes his eyes observed her thoughtfully. 'Enjoy your meal with Robin?'

  'Yes,' she said, nerving herself to withdraw her resignation.

  'Tell him about my evil assault?' he asked, tongue in cheek.

  'I didn't want to bore him with it,' she snapped.

  He laughed shortly. 'Did you tell him you'd resigned?'

  Her lids fell. Nervously she passed her tongue over her lips. Looking up, she saw the narrowed, shrewd eyes fixed on her.

  'Out with it, Deb,' Alex said brusquely.

  She felt her face flare with angry colour. He knew. She stared at him, hating him. 'I've… I've changed my mind…' she stammered.

  'You told Robin and he was horrified,' he translated grimly.

  'I earn a good salary here,' she said quickly. 'It's convenient for us both to work together…'

  'Spare me the explanations,' he shrugged. 'You withdraw your resignation.'

  She burned with resentment at his dry tone. 'Yes,' she said tightly, glaring at him.

  He moved closer, their eyes meeting, and she instinctive
ly backed in apprehension. 'Aren't you afraid I'll do it again?' he asked silkily, a smile coming to his cruel mouth.

  The thought had already occurred to her. She was aware of a strong sense of anxiety about the future. Distastefully, she retorted, 'If you do I'll have to tell Robin and make him see why I must leave, won't I?'

  Alex laughed softly. 'Your tone of contempt amuses me, Deborah. From your tidy, neatly arranged little world you feel so secure. I wonder how hard it would be to blow a hole through the wall you've surrounded yourself with?'

  She felt her throat close in panic. Turning, she said bitterly, 'I shouldn't bother. I'm proof against anything you do, Alex. You forget, I've seen you in action a hundred times before.'

  He made no swift comeback to that remark, but as she left the room he said coolly, 'What time is the flight?'

  'Nine o'clock,' she told him.

  'I'll pick you up at seven-thirty,' he said. 'Will you get our currency?'

  'I've made all the arrangements,' she said politely.

  The silvery eyes mocked her. 'Of course you have. You're so efficient, Miss Portman.'

  She slammed the door as she left, infuriated by his expression and tone. Working with him in future was going to be even more impossible, she thought bitterly.

  Deborah's flatmate was a twenty-four-year-old schoolteacher whom she had met two years earlier when they both attended a series of pottery classes at a London institute. Judith Brown had proved far less deft than Deborah, who had surprised herself by a natural aptitude for the subject, and through their mutual amusement at the misshapen objects Judith turned out, their friendship had grown rapidly. Deborah had at the time shared a ground-floor flat in a house in Chelsea with an Australian girl. When Penny returned to Australia after spending two years in Europe, Judith took her place, and the arrangement had worked very well. Judith taught at a school in Fulham, a bus ride from the flat, and although she had little taste for domesticity, she was a lively companion. The two girls got on well together. Deborah did most of the housework and cooking. Judith was prone to burn things through forgetting them, and her clumsiness around the flat made her accident-prone. But Deborah did not mind her friend's awkwardness because her affection for Judith made her indulgent towards her.

  Judith had a number of friends, some male, who visited her often, but she had no permanent relationship in her life. Oddly, she and Robin got on very well, although he teased her about her untidiness. 'She reminds me of my mother,' he used to tell Deborah with a grin. 'She's clever, funny and absent-minded.'

  Deborah walked from the bus-stop along the river, enjoying her daily view of the Thames. In all weathers it held great beauty for her. She liked to watch the changing colours of the seasons; the opalescent mists of spring, the blue of summer, the blaze of autumn and the muted grey of winter, liven in the depth of January the river seemed to her romantic. She liked to watch the strings of tarpaulin-covered barges, the river steamers, the police boats whizzing past. Glancing back she could gaze at the layered vista of London, the towers and office blocks, the bridges and steeples. Her walks home were always pleasurable, and she knew she would regret leaving Chelsea after her marriage to Robin. His dream of a small suburban house was one she shared, but she had hidden longings about London which she slightly resented. Although the city was beautiful it was lonely, as she had found in earlier years, and she could not quite understand why, despite this, she felt so drawn towards it.

  She had packed and was cooking supper when Judith arrived, hot and flushed from her journey, her wiry ginger hair tumbling over her narrow shoulders as she looked into the tiny kitchen.

  They shared a sitting-room from which two tiny bedrooms led, besides a kitchen and a bathroom so small they had to squeeze into it.

  'What's for supper? I'm starving,' Judith said, sniffing.

  'Vegetable soup and a cheese soufflé,' Deborah told her. 'It uses up the last of our cheese.'

  'Smells great,' grinned Judith. 'Have I got time to wash and change?'

  'Ten minutes,' Deborah told her, and Judith vanished.

  When she returned, her hair tied with a green velvet ribbon, her body sheathed in a black catsuit, she sat down on a kitchen chair with a groan. 'My feet ache. Going out with Robin tonight?'

  'No,' said Deborah. 'Lay the table for me, Judith.'

  Judith made a face. 'If I can move,' she said, pathetically. 'There must be easier jobs than teaching. Like sweeping the streets or scrubbing floors.'

  'Stop moaning and lay the table,' said Deborah, unimpressed. She pushed the cutlery into Judith's hand and the other girl obediently went into their sitting-room. From there, she called, 'Alex come back today, did he?'

  Deborah paused, staring into the bubbling soup, her face taut, a hot flush pouring up her cheeks. The sound of his name recalled the way Alex had kissed her with vivid detail, and anger and shame made her bite her lip. A sound brought her head round. Judith was staring at her from the archway of the sitting-room, her hazel eyes narrowed.

  'What happened?' the other girl asked bluntly.

  Deborah turned and turned off the light under the soup. 'What do you mean?' she fenced, busily engaged in pouring the soup into a tureen.

  'Deb, I saw your expression,' Judith said, her voice flat. 'Only Alex St James brings that look into your eyes.'

  'What look?' Deborah stared at her, taken aback.

  Judith shrugged, half embarrassed. 'I don't know how to describe it… helpless, sort of… vulnerable.'

  'Oh, nonsense,' Deborah dismissed abruptly, moving into the sitting-room.

  They sat opposite each other at the small table in the bay of their sitting-room window. Deborah helped Judith to soup and then placed some in her own bowl.

  Judith broke off a small piece of crisp-bread and fiddled with it, her soup untouched. 'I gather Alex did get back from Stockholm, though?' she enquired.

  'Yes, said Deborah, her gaze on her spoon. 'But we're going to France tomorrow, so you'll have to do the shopping. I'll make up a list of what we need.'

  'France!' Judith's gaze was curious. 'I thought you were going to Devon this weekend to meet Robin's family? What about the engagement announcement?'

  Deborah said coolly, 'It all goes ahead as planned. I'll be back on Friday evening.'

  'What did Robin say when you told him?' asked Judith probingly.

  Deborah sighed. 'He understood,' she lied.

  Judith made a peculiar sound, something between a snort and a grunt.

  'What's that supposed to mean?' Deborah demanded.

  'Nothing,' said Judith. 'It isn't my business.'

  'No,' Deborah said, 'it isn't.'

  Judith began to drink her soup. The course was finished in silence. As Judith began to clear the bowls, Deborah said with a sigh, 'I'm sorry, Judy… I snapped.'

  Judith looked down and her face split into a warm smile. 'Oh, I forgive you. You know your own business best. I get worried about you sometimes. You're like a single-minded child walking across a busy street. You look neither to left nor right, you just march straight into disaster.'

  Deborah laughed with amusement. 'Judy, that describes you rather than me… I thought I was the levelheaded one, the one who knew what she wanted out of life, while you just rush from one crisis to the other without thinking.'

  Judy's face was sober. 'Your plans are too cut and dried, Deb. They leave no room for life at all. You won't allow anything to interfere with your carefully worked out scheme of living, and that's dangerous. I'm afraid that one day a volcano will explode right under your feet and blow you sky-high.'

  Deborah stared at her in astonishment. 'What on earth are you talking about?'

  'Alex St James,' said Judith, holding her eyes. 'You know I'm talking about him.'

  Scarlet invaded Deborah's face. Her eyes widened, then her lids dropped, hiding her expression. She moved quickly into the kitchen and without thinking picked up oven gloves and got the soufflé out of the oven. It was perfectly risen, a smooth
golden colour. She carried it into the sitting-room and placed it on a mat in the centre of the table. Judith was laying plates, her untidy bush of hair falling over one shoulder.

  Deborah served the soufflé and they each took their seats again. A bowl of fresh, crisp salad occupied the centre of the table. Deborah helped herself to some, her eyes fixed on what she was doing.

  'No comment, then?' Judith asked at last.

  'Your imagination runs riot,' Deborah said without looking at her.

  'Deb, because Robin has never noticed your sensitivity to Alex St James it doesn't mean you've learnt to hide it from everyone,' Judith told her frankly. 'I knew the first time I saw you together. You admitted years ago that he fancied you.'

  'I didn't say that!' Deborah denied.

  'You said he wanted to date you,' Judith said flatly. 'Don't forget, I've seen him look at you. He makes no secret of the way he feels.'

  'Oh, for heaven's sake!' Deborah said furiously. 'Alex flirts with every woman he meets. I know, I've seen him in action every day. How many beautiful women do you think he's been to bed with? I doubt if even Alex can remember. Do you think I'm going to be a forgotten name in his telephone book, one of the never-ending list who couldn't resist him?' Her voice rose, bitterness threaded through it.

  Judith looked at her with a strange expression. 'So you made up your mind to be the one girl he can't forget, the one who got away?' she asked shrewdly.

  For a moment Deborah looked stunned. Then a weary smile came into the blue eyes. 'Something like that,' she admitted huskily.

  Judith made a face. 'I hope you get away with it,' she said, beginning to eat her soufflé. She sighed. 'This is a dream. When I tried to make a soufflé it just lay there in the oven glowering at me!'

  'What do you mean,' Deborah pursued, 'you hope I get away with it?'

  Judith swallowed her mouthful. 'You're walking a tightrope, Deb,' she said gently. 'If Robin ever finds out how you really feel about Alex he'll feel cheated, and if Alex ever finds out, God help you!'