'You're an angel, Deb,' he said, picking up the shirt and looking at it with relief.
She heard a key in the door and went to greet Judith, halting in surprise as she saw Alex instead. He was devastating in his formal evening clothes, his lean good looks emphasised by them. The silvery eyes looked at her lingeringly. She felt herself tremble, flushing, at the open hunger in his gaze.
'I met Judith on the doorstep talking to one of your neighbours,' he said softly. 'She told me to come up and gave me her key.' His smile was inviting. 'I think she wanted to give us a few minutes alone, and now I'm glad she did.' His eyes caressed her. 'You're quite delectable in that, Deb, even though you should be dressed by now…' His voice died as Robin came out of the bedroom, doing up his shirt.
Slowly the grey eyes moved from Robin's flushed, defiant face to Deb's revealing, silky wrap.
The look on his face made her feel sick. Robin stood there, not speaking, a strange obstinate embarrassment in his expression. There was a moment of nightmare immobility.
'Robin tore his shirt,' said Deborah, driving herself into speech. 'I sewed it up for him.'
'I'm very grateful, Deb,' Robin said, turning to look at her, ignoring Alex. Thanks for everything.' He grabbed his jacket and tie and walked toward the door. 'I'll be seeing you…'he said as he left, and every word he uttered deepened the stony harshness of Alex's gaze.
When he had gone there was a long silence so intense it made ice crawl down Deborah's spine. Slowly she drew a shaky breath. Why didn't Alex say something? Why was he standing there like a frozen statue, staring at her?
At last he said through tight lips. 'You'd better get dressed for dinner.'
'Not now,' she said incoherently, trembling.
'Why not?' The question was charged with savagery. 'Too worn out by an afternoon in bed with Robin?' The question took her breath away, although she had known very well what he was thinking.
Heat flooded her face. 'No, damn you! I didn't go to bed with him. I never have.' Yet wasn't that what Robin had intended him to think? She knew Robin. His appearance had been deliberate, an attempt to get his revenge on Alex by making him think exactly what he had thought. It had been a gesture of angry pride aimed at Alex, proving that Robin had never loved her, was merely suffering from wounded self-love in losing her to Alex.
'Do you seriously expect me to believe that?' Alex's voice held bitter contempt. The grey eyes travelled over her insultingly. 'You once told me you weren't cold when Robin made love to you, and I should have believed it.'
She turned away in despair, realising he would never believe her. His view of life made it impossible for him to understand either her or the way she felt. 'Go away, Alex,' she said huskily. 'Go away.'
'Get dressed,' he commanded. 'We're going out to dinner, and in three days' time we're getting married.'
'Not now,' she said incredulously. Pain made her voice shake. 'No, Alex, I can't!' 'I've made all the arrangements,' he said in a voice as hard as granite. 'You'll marry me if I have to force you to do it. No woman is walking out on me.'
She looked at him with agony, seeing his eyes like lakes of grey ice. His face was as impossible to read, as unyielding as a carved image. She felt suddenly terrified of him. The remote, watchful stranger facing her was implacable, dangerous.
'I can't marry you,' she said in self-protective dismay.
His mouth tightened to a thin, cruel line. 'You will,' he said, meaning every syllable. Menace emanated from him. Their eyes locked and she realised that her will power was no longer strong enough to fight against his. Her love had weakened her. She ached with misery.
'I should never have said I would marry you,' she whispered. 'Please, Alex, let me go…'
'You're not backing out now,' he said. 'You will marry me.'
Three days later she did, very quietly, to avoid the blaze of publicity the event would otherwise cause, and they flew off to Nice the same afternoon. Alex worked on a briefcase of documents throughout the flight, only breaking off to have a drink, his manner remote and austere. Deborah sat beside him, wondering if any insanity ran in her family. She must have been out of her mind to marry him. All her doubts buzzed in her head, as they had for the last three days, but Alex's iron will power had been irresistible.
They drove to his mother's cottage in another hired car, but this time along roads made glorious by perfect weather. When the bridal white orchards came into view Deborah was disappointed to see that the blossom was fast fading now, many of the branches denuded already. It seemed an inauspicious omen.
Mrs St James had not come to the wedding. She had been busy getting the cottage ready for them, Alex had said, and her dislike of flying had made the journey to London an ordeal she really preferred not to face. Instead, she had spent the time working on the cottage, seeing her furniture returned to it, having it painted to expunge the traces of the flood waters. Now she had left for a fortnight in Paris, meaning to enjoy the opportunity to wander around the famous art galleries there, but she would return in time to spend a day with them at the cottage, she had said in a letter, as she wanted to get to know her new daughter-in-law better.
Deborah had not told Alex that she had had a private letter from his mother telling her that the marriage had made her very happy. The letter had not been meant for Alex's eyes.
Mrs St James had seen to it that everything at the house was in order for their arrival, even the kitchen range had been lit and left gently banked up for their arrival, so that it was possible to cook a meal at once. While Alex shifted their luggage upstairs and put away the car Deborah prepared a meal with the provisions her mother-in-law had carefully provided. A brief, affectionate note hidden among them raised her spirits a little, but as they later ate the meal Alex's brooding mood did nothing to lighten Deborah's heart.
She had a terrible feeling that she had just made the catastrophic error to end all errors. She had married a man who resented her.
When they had finished their meal they worked together in silence to clear away and wash up. She glanced nervously at her watch as they finished. Alex caught the look and said expressionlessly, 'You must be tired. Go to bed. I'll check everything down here.'
Without a word she went up the stairs and into the all-too-familiar bedroom. Slowly she got ready for bed. Did he intend to join her, or was he intending to sleep elsewhere? Nothing between them could indicate any warmth now. Even the fierce passion he had once offered her seemed totally dead. He was a cold, unfeeling stranger.
There was a fire burning in the grate, another example of his mother's thoughtfulness, and Deborah put out the light, standing in front of it for a while, recalling with pain the peace and gentleness which had been between herself and Alex while he slept with his head on her lap beside that fireplace. It had all gone.
She heard his foot on the stair, the creak of the floorboards, and hurriedly dived across the room into the bed, turning on to her side, pulling the bedclothes up until her head was almost buried in them, facing the wall.
She heard the door open, then quietly close. Alex stood motionless for a moment and she sensed that he was staring across the room at the bed. After a pause he began moving about. She tried to close her ears as well as her eyes, her pulses hammering.
Suddenly she heard him move beside the bed and she held her breath, trembling. He slid between the sheets and turned towards her. Ice seemed to be flowing over her body. She could not move or speak. If she lay very still, she thought desperately, he might believe she was asleep.
Silently he pulled her round to face him, his hands unkind. 'You aren't asleep,' he said coldly. She was forced to open her eyes and look at him by the red glow of the fire, his features set in that granite, unsmiling mask which had been his face ever since he saw her with Robin at the flat.
She swallowed nervously. If he touched her in this mood, if he made love to her, she knew she would die of sheer misery. His savage anger that night in Nice when he made love to her as if he
wanted to kill her, forcing her body almost to the point of rape, had been less hard to bear than his present silent remoteness.
'If you want me to leave you alone you can think again,' he said harshly. 'I married you to get you into bed, and you're not cheating on that side of our bargain.'
Jerkily she whispered. 'I'm tired after the flight. It's been a long day. Not tonight, Alex, please…' Her voice throbbed with a plea for kindness.
His mouth curled in a cruel, ironic smile. 'That old feminine excuse? Surely you can think of something more original?' His eyes flickered over her, glimmering in the firelight. 'You're my wife now. You've no more excuses left. This time I'm going to take you, however hard you fight.'
He pulled her towards him, struggling, his fingers wrenching her hands down, her wrists aching where the cruel fingers bit into them. 'But if you fight you'll regret it, you little bitch,' he said in an ugly tone. They stared at each other. Deborah sighed, wearily, capitulating, recognising the futility of fighting him.
His hands began to move over her, exploring her with a cold determination which sent waves of misery flooding over her. She closed her eyes to escape the vision of his remorseless face, her body limp and unmoving beneath his icy caresses.
'What's the matter?' he asked, sensing her withdrawal. His voice was harsh. 'Did you enjoy it more with Robin? Perhaps I'm not making it exciting enough.' His hand brutally tilted her face. His mouth savaged her, mercilessly demanding. She kept her lips closed, sickness burning in her throat like acid. He wound his fingers in her hair, tugging back her head, trying to force her lips to open to him. 'I'll make you kiss me,' he muttered roughly. 'You may not want to, but I'll make you respond to me…'
A tear trickled down beneath her closed lids. A sob broke from her, muted and pathetic. She felt his body tense.
The tears ran faster, although she tried to halt them. He swore under his breath, the chilly surface of his manner breaking. 'Not tears, for God's sake,' he said bitterly. 'Not tears, you cheating little bitch!'
Shaking, she wiped a hand across her wet eyes. 'I'm sorry,' she stammered.
He swore again, then they both lay still. Her body heaved with the effort of choking back her tears. Alex suddenly pulled her against him, his hand fondling her hair, stroking it in new gentleness.
'Stop crying,' he said flatly. 'You defeat me, Deb, at every turn. I won't force you to take me.'
She sighed, her chilled limbs slowly relaxing. His kindness was like manna in a stony desert. She turned against his body, the warmth of his skin comforting. His hand moved over her hair, lifting it softly.
'This is one hell of a mess,' he said after a while. 'I should have had the decency to let you break off our marriage and marry Robin. That was what he was there for, wasn't it? To get you back?'
'He just wanted to apologise,' she said, a sigh troubling her. There was something so sweet in lying like this in his arms while he stroked her hair. She did not want to begin the barren argument again. 'Robin's fair-minded. He came to say he was sorry he accused me like that.'
Alex made a sound of bitter incredulity. 'Do you think I'm fool enough to believe it? He had you in your bedroom.'
The brutality made her flinch. 'No,' she said shakily. 'That isn't true, Alex. I was sewing up his shirt — nothing else.'
Alex's hand froze on her hair. He tilted her face so that he could see it clearly, his eyes fiercely probing. She looked back at him, the firelight flickered over her tear-stained face, but the blue eyes met his probing stare frankly.
'He made love to you,' he said disbelievingly.
'No,' she said, frightened by the hard intensity of his expression.
Alex's mouth tightened. 'He had you in a bedroom, in that damned wrap, and he never touched you?'
'He never touched me,' she said, sighing. Was the cold-eyed hostile stranger going to return?
He stared at her for a long time, his eyes flickering over her face as though he tried to penetrate behind the oval features.
After a while he asked curtly, 'But you wanted him to?'
She flushed. 'No!'
He moved restlessly, his face filled with harsh incredulity. 'I might have believed that once, Deb, but you're too passionate for me to believe it now. The ice is a very thin layer, isn't it? And the fire underneath is red-hot.'
She looked away, her lashes flickering.
'Robin has never discovered that,' she whispered, her tone an admission.
Alex breathed in sudden hoarseness. His hand turned her face round again and she looked at him in submission. The silvery eyes probed her glance until she felt a long shudder in the centre of her body. Her skin seemed to burn with heat. Alex's arms slid under her, lifting her slender body closer, and with a groan she enclosed his dark head in the circle of her embrace, meeting his kiss with a starving, abandoned response which made his lips harden into probing exploration.
He broke off the kiss, breathing hard, pulling her nightdress over her head. In the firelight she saw his eyes flicker over the white gleam of her body. 'Oh, God, I want you,' he said deep in his throat. She looked up at him, trembling, while he tore off his own clothes, then his hands touched her, shaking, the passion of their caress totally different to the cold exploration he had offered her five minutes ago.
The erotic intimacy of his movements made her quiver in sensual response, reaching for his naked chest with an aching desire to touch him. As she touched his skin a muted whimper of satisfaction came from her. His hands were moulding her beneath him, their movements feverish and aroused, as if he needed to touch every part of her. Were his hands trembling so violently, she wondered, or was it the tension of her own hunger which made her imagine it? He had known so many other women. Jealousy wrenched at her and she gave a groan of pain.
'Did I hurt you? What is it?' he asked at once, frowning.
'This is all new to me,' she said miserably. 'There's never been anyone but you, Alex… but all this is familiar to you. How many other women have gone crazy in your arms?'
His eyes gleamed at her admission. 'Jealousy, Deb?' For a moment she saw triumph in his face, then he smiled wryly. 'You needn't feel jealous. I don't know how other women have felt in the past, but I can tell you that I've never felt the way I feel now. Just looking at you is making me go crazy with desire, and I wouldn't want you to feel the way I felt when Robin came out of your bedroom doing up his shirt. It was like dying. I thought the pain would never stop. I wanted to scream, to kill both of you…'
His words astounded her. 'Alex…' Her voice held incredulity and delight. Surely such jealousy could not be anything less than love?
He made a wry face. 'Well, now you know.' He bent his head, finding her mouth in a fierce demand, kissing her with hungry tenderness, his urgent hands caressing her until she was weak with passion, offering herself without hesitation, their bodies tangling with increasing fever. She felt light-headed, aching with the need to surrender to his possession.
The heavy masculinity of the body above her made her shudder with desire, the roughness of his thigh against the smooth skin of her own driving her mad, hardly aware that she had begun to beg him to take her, her voice muffled by his kiss.
'I've waited for this so long,' he said unsteadily into her pulsing throat. Under him her slender body arched, shuddering, as a piercing sensation of total completion swept over her, pain swamped by delight. The cosy images which had been her old idea of belonging crumbled for ever as she felt Alex merge with her own body, a shared moment of possession which brought a long, trembling cry of pleasure from her parted lips.
He paused, his breathing rapid and harsh. 'Did I hurt you? Darling, did I hurt you?'
'No, oh, no,' she whispered. Her hands pressed him down to her. 'Oh, Alex darling, I want you so much…'
He groaned, his body trembling violently. 'Deb… Oh, God, Deb, I love you like hell…' The husky words echoed in her ears as he pulled her down into a whirlpool of sensual pleasure. In that sweet turmoil, and the
delight and agony of giving endlessly, Alex was utterly hers, their responses identical, drainingly intense.
She felt like the exhausted survivor of a shipwreck come safely to harbour as she lay later, entwined in his arms, stroking his hair. The warmth of the red firelight enclosed them. A great drowsiness seemed to cover them both. Alex yawned, rubbing his cheek against her.
'I could sleep for ever. I haven't slept properly since I saw Robin at your flat.'
She pushed back the hair from his temples. 'Jealousy is agony, isn't it?' She had fought against her own jealousy for so long, but it had always defeated her, and she was glad he had felt that hellish ache too.
He turned to look up at her, his eyes veiled by their dark lashes. 'Tell me you love me. Deb,' he asked with shaky humility in his voice.
A little smile touched her mouth. She ran a finger along his mouth and he kissed it adoringly.
'Love, Alex? I thought you didn't believe in it.'
'I didn't,' he said grimly. 'You forced me to believe in it that night I saw Robin come out of your bedroom. The pain was so intense I knew I had to be suffering from more than mere sexual jealousy. I could barely speak or move. I've lost other women to new lovers, but it had never made me feel the way I felt then. It was like having a limb amputated without anaesthetic. Every breath I took hurt like hell. I could barely look at you without wanting to kill you. The thought of him…' His voice broke off, shaking. 'Oh, God, it was agony!'
She felt the pain throbbing in his body, and she kissed him, willing him to be comforted. 'Alex darling, I love you… I never did love Robin and he never did more than kiss me, even though he wanted you to think he had that day…'
Duel of Desire Page 16