Compulsion

by Charlotte Lamb

  Lissa reacted like a scalded cat. She slapped him so hard her palm burnt and stung.

  Luc's head rocked with the blow. The amusement went from his face and rage flashed down at her from his eyes. She felt instinctively that he almost hit her back, then his face tightened into an alarming mask,

  'That was unwise of you, Lissa,' he drawled, his lips scarcely moving. 'You've made me angry now.'

  She was quivering, watching him nervously.

  He moved too fast for her to evade him. His dark head shut out the night sky. His mouth burned, bruised, delved into her own, forcing her to surrender her lips without a further protest. His hands moved possessively over her. Her dress was dragged down and his fingers slid down her shoulders to find the high, warm swell of her breasts.

  Chris had never once touched her with such demand­ing intimacy. She had no previous experience of love-making to compare it with—whenever Chris had tried to accelerate their caresses anywhere near this point she had anxiously broken away from him. Now her own reactions were so fierce, so piercingly exciting, that she lost all sense of what she was doing, absorbed into a private dizzying world of pleasure.

  The smooth, warm fingers held her trembling body and softly caressed it until she was groaning, yielding. Her heart beat so hard she was deaf. She couldn't think. She couldn't even hear her own voice as she gave those hoarse little sighs of pleasure. The roaring blood shut her ears and her eyes were blind as she twisted in Luc's exploring, arousing hands.

  'Let me have you,' he whispered, and she heard the question through the singing of her blood and couldn't answer.

  'You drive me crazy,' Luc muttered, his mouth at her throat, the demanding heat of it sliding down to the hollow between her breasts.

  Lissa's hands dug into his back as his thigh forced itself between hers. Desire spiralled crazily inside her. A deep, heated urgency possessed her and her hands trembled as she touched Luc's body, her restless movements filled with driven necessity.

  Luc suddenly sat up, breathing thickly. 'You see?' he asked in a low, unsteady voice. I could have you, couldn't I, Liss? Whatever you say, your reactions make that very clear.'

  She felt horribly sick. She pushed him away, sud­denly facing what had happened to her and reacting with shame and violence.

  She scrambled to her feet, swaying weakly as her legs almost gave way under her. Luc stood too and held her elbow, his long fingers resting on it lightly.

  'Stay away from me!' Lissa snapped. Humiliation and self-contempt were eating at her. The burning temptation of a moment ago had evaporated and she was sick.

  'Come back to England with me,' Luc said quietly. 'You can trust me, Lissa. I'm no Brandon, I won't lie to you or cheat you.'

  'I know what you want to do to me,' Lissa bit out.

  'Oh, that,' he said, and laughed, and somehow it was the last straw. She looked at him savagely, then turned and walked away 'fast. Luc came after her, but as Lissa left the darkness of the palms fringing the beach they both heard voices. She halted and instinctively moved back into the trees. Luc came up with her and she looked at him nervously, her eyes wide…

  'Brandon,' he said through his teeth.

  'Looking for me,' she whispered. 'Luc, you must go. Don't let him see you.'

  He studied her, his face calm.

  'Please, please!' she whispered.

  Luc bit down on his lower lip. 'I'm not leaving you,' he said.

  'He won't hurt me,' Lissa muttered, flushing. 'But he might hurt you.'

  Luc laughed harshly. 'You think I'm scared of him?'

  'He has Max and several others with him,' she whis­pered. 'Max carries a knife, I'm sure he does.'

  Fortune had spotted the men and was running to­wards them, barking excitedly, pleased to see them.

  'Go, please, Luc, do go!' she groaned, grasping his arm.

  He hesitated then shrugged, and in a second he had melted into the darkness and she did not even see where he went.

  She softly trod back through the palms and sat down where she and Luc had sat before. The impressions of their bodies lay there, betraying far too much of what had happened. Lissa quickly dragged a fallen palm leaf over the marks and began to draw a battlemented castle in the sand. Her hand shook, but she kept on drawing.

  She heard the movements behind her and turned her head to look at Chris calmly, forcing every sign of guilt or fear out of her face. He stood there and behind him she heard the advance of his men.

  For a moment Chris was totally silent. His narrowed hard eyes shot over her face, trying to read her expres­sion.

  He looked around. She had never noticed it before, but now she saw the raw violence which Chris held contained when she was around. His jaw was taut and his eyes flamed like hot metal.

  The men stood, waiting, poised and dangerous. They were black shadows on the edge of the whispering palm, but the threat emanating from them was very real.

  'What are you doing down here?' Chris asked softly. His eyes dropped to the sand around her, studied the disturbed surface.

  'Drawing pictures,' she said, and she made her voice sound sulky and cold.

  'Who's been here with you?' Chris asked, and she saw the flick of his eyes over the beach and realised with a shudder that the print of Luc's feet was only too visible.

  'Mr Ferrier was down here,' she said, and felt Chris stiffen. He threw her a searching look.

  'Oh?'

  'He was talking to someone,' she said. 'They went off ten minutes ago.'

  'Who was he talking to?' Chris demanded, and she knew he did not believe a word.

  'I don't know her name. She was wearing a red dress,'

  Max moved and whispered in Chris's ear. Chris half turned his head and listened and the moonlight struck a medallion of his profile, turning it to the brutal harshness of a war leader. She had never seen cruelty and greed and violence in Chris before, but she saw them now.

  He turned and looked back at her. She went on draw­ing her castle, making arrow slits in the walls, adding a flag on the top. Chris jerked his head silently and his men melted away.

  He walked forward and stood there, his feet near her moving hand. Lissa did not look up.

  'Why are you out here? What do you think you're doing?' he asked sharply.

  Lissa had been searching her mind desperately for something to put him off the scent. She kept her eyes on her hand. In a low, angry voice she said: 'Why did you listen to Rebecca about me? Why do you encourage her to spy on me? Is she in love with you?'

  Whatever Chris had been expecting her to say it had not been that, and the accusation took him by surprise.

  'What?' he asked, shifting his feet.

  She looked up, realising she had taken him off guard and pressing her advantage. 'Have you been flirting with her?' She stood up and glared at him. 'I hate you!' She used a furious, child's voice, letting it tremble, her lips quivering too.

  'Honey,' Chris began, his body softening. ‘Darling...’

  She pushed him away as he tried to put his arm round her. 'Don't call me darling, tell me the truth. What have you been doing with Rebecca? She hates me—she showed it to me today. Why should she hate me?' Even as she made the accusation she was register­ing with surprise that it had already been in the back of her mind. Rebecca had looked at her with hostility. She often had in the past. Was she interested in Chris?

  Chris was smiling. His voice was gentle and soothing. 'Baby, don't be silly.'

  'I'm not silly!' Lissa retorted in the most childish voice she could manage. Her eyes stayed wide and bright, glazed with unshed tears. The tears were there already, tears of fear and disturbed realisation that she had never known Chris. But she used them ruthlessly, letting them slip from her trembling lashes. 'I'm not a baby, either. I didn't sing like a baby tonight. Pierre said I was very good. Don't patronise me any more. I won't be called a baby!'

  Chris gave a little groan, half of laughter, half of passion, 'Darling Liss,' he said, looking at her wit
h what she recognised now as a blatant, hungry desire for her. 'You certainly didn't sing like a baby. You turned me on so hard I've got to have you, darling. Liss..,'

  She slapped his hands away. 'Don't touch me, you ... you Lothario!' she shouted and ran.

  Chris came after her, but she managed to reach the hotel first and bolted out of sight. She heard some guests halt him with eager, excited words. Chris hovered, trying to get away, and Lissa had time to get to her room. She locked the door and stood there, shak­ing.

  'Liss,' he whispered a few moments later. 'Darling, let me in—I must talk to you. You're wrong—I've never laid a finger on Rebecca. She doesn't do a thing to me. God, Liss, don't you know I'm mad about you? Darling, open the door. Let me talk to you.'

  'Go away!' she said in a high, cross voice.

  'Liss!'

  'Go away or I'll scream,' she promised.

  Chris stood there. She could hear him breathing fast and hard. Waves of emotion, came through the door and Lissa was frightened.

  'You're frightening me,' she whispered unsteadily, and it was so true, the irony of it almost made her laugh.

  Chris sighed. 'Okay, baby.'

  'Don't call me that!'

  'Oh, Liss.' he said wryly. 'Prove you're not. Open the door and let me love you.'

  She didn't answer.

  She beard other steps, a voice muttering. 'I've got to go, darling,' Chris said huskily. 'We'll talk tomorrow.

  Tomorrow we'll fix our wedding day, Liss, and I won't take no for an answer.'

  She heard him move away and slowly sank down on to a chair, her body huddled in fear and misery.

  What was she going to do?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  She did not sleep for hours. Luc's accusations about Chris went on sounding inside her head and she swung between angrily dismissing them and being forced to believe part of what he had said. She should have used her brain before. She should have looked more closely at the life around her. Now that she was looking she was finding disturbing hints of a truth she had bitterly ignored until now.

  Chris had hidden too many things from her. She had seen the unveiled nature to which she had been blind for so long and, seeing him in that light, had felt the pattern of her vision shift into a new perspective.

  Next morning, Luc was on the beach when she arrived. He turned and the first ray of sunlight struck across his broad, smooth shoulders and gave his skin a liquid, golden sheen that took her breath away.

  'All right?' he asked tersely, moving to meet her, and she sensed anxiety in him.

  She nodded, softened by the intent look of the blue eyes. 'Luc, I told Chris last night that you were on the beach with someone,' she said hurriedly.

  'I know,' he nodded. 'I was listening.'

  Lissa stared in disbelief. 'Listening? You didn't go?'

  'I wasn't leaving you alone with him. I hung around in- the palms and caught most of what was said.'

  Lissa felt a pink colour creeping up her face. Luc had waited in the palm trees to make sure she was safe.

  As soon as I was sure Brandon wouldn't harm you, I shot off to see Joanne,' he said.

  'Joanne?' Lissa stiffened, her glance shooting to his face.

  His eyes mocked. 'The lady in the red dress, remem­ber?'

  'Oh,' Lissa said coldly.

  He grinned. 'I suspected Brandon would check on your story, and I was right.'

  Lissa felt a shock of alarm. 'What?'

  'The charming and murderous Max knocked on Joanne's door with a cock-and-bull story about a phone call for her husband. Lucas was in the gaming rooms. He rarely leaves them when they're open. Max knew that. Joanne viciously told him where he could find her husband and Max left.'

  She should have suspected that Chris would go to some lengths to find out if she was telling the truth, but she wasn't yet accustomed to telling lies. She felt very sick. Chris wasn't the man she had thought she knew— all night she had been facing that and feeling like some­one who has woken up to find themselves in a beautiful, but treacherous jungle. The air was heavy with sweet scents, but death lurked in every shadow.

  Luc's veiled eyes were slipping down her slender body. The tiny white bikini seemed suddenly even more inadequate, and she had pulses beating at neck and wrist.

  She thought of last night again and wondered what had happened between him and that woman. Lissa's feminine instincts did not need evidence to pick up the tingle of attraction which had been passing between them in the club last night. How long had Luc stayed in her room? And what had gone on?

  She turned to walk down to the water and Luc fol­lowed, his feet sinking into the sharp gritty sand. They swam out into the blue water with the sun burning down on their heads. Halting to drift on her back, she heard the splash of his movement nearby and glanced sidelong at him. 'You ought to go back,' she said. 'I don't- want Chris to see me with you.'

  He nodded, accepting it. 'My yacht is ready to leave at a moment's notice,' he told her. 'The crew have been sleeping on board and going ashore by day. I can con­tact them down in the town and tell them to start off tonight.'

  'When you leave is your business,' said Lissa.

  Luc made a rough sound of impatience. 'You know what I'm saying. Will you come with me?'

  She shook her head, the wet blonde hair plastered down the side of her face.

  'Lisa,' he said through his teeth, 'you can't stay here. You can't marry him.'

  'It's my decision,' Lissa said flatly. 'Nothing to do with you.'

  He stared at her, his face set, 'You don't fit into this set-up. If you stay you're going to regret it.'

  A movement back on the beach drew their attention. Lissa flicked a look across the blue water and her whole body jerked with alarm. Chris stood there, in a tight-fitting blue T-shirt and skimp blue jeans, his slim body tense as he stared across the ocean at them.

  'I told you to go away,' she moaned at him.

  Turning, she swam back towards the beach and Luc followed. Lissa waded up out of the waves, feeling her limbs heavy with salt water and fear.

  Chris did not move. He stood there, the hot steel of his eyes riveting her. Danger came out of him in waves.

  Luc ran his hand through his stiff wet hair. His skin-was gleaming with salt and his dark blue eyes were lazy, betraying none of the alarm making Lissa move so stiffly.

  'Hallo, Brandon. Your fiancé swims like a fish,' he drawled. 'She tells me she disapproves of gambling. I hope that doesn't mean you're going to duck out on our arranged game.'

  Lissa looked at him in sharp anger and disbelief. Al­though his tone was slow and cool he was challenging Chris directly.

  She looked back at Chris, but he wasn't looking at her. He was staring at Luc with rigid features.

  'Women and poker don't mix,' Luc murmured mock­ingly. 'Take my advice, Brandon, decide on one or the other. You can't run both. Women take you over and ruin you as a gambler.'

  Chris still studied him as though trying to see right through his head. Lissa moved and Chris turned his head slowly to meet her eyes.

  'You promised me,' she whispered, touching his bare brown arm. 'Chris, don't play poker with him.'

  For another second Chris bored into her lifted green eyes, his face sharply angled. Then he smiled and she felt the tension seeping out of him. 'Run on back to the hotel, honey,' he said softly, patting her on the hip. His hand smoothed down her thigh intimately, pos­sessively, and although she did not look at Luc she could feel his eyes on the little movement.

  Lissa stared into Chris's eyes pleadingly. She was no longer afraid that Chris would lose heavily to Luc, yet she still feared that clash between them for a reason she could not quite put her finger on—her instincts warned her against the idea.

  In the beginning Chris had wanted to beat Luc just because Luc was a famous player; now she knew with­out needing to be told that Chris had other reasons for wanting to beat Luc. She was terrified of what might happen if, as she strongly suspected, Luc beat
Chris hands down.

  Chris smiled tightly at her. 'Run along, honey,' he said in a voice which left her no option.

  She went slowly, feeling sick. The vivid sunlight, the gaudy flesh of the tropical flowers, seemed hateful to her for the first time. She had once loved this place. Now. she felt she could not bear the sight of it.

  Why had Luc done it? Why had he deliberately dared Chris to a duel? He must know the dangers he ran. Lissa did not investigate too closely on what her own suspicions were based, but she knew Luc would be in danger if he won against Chris.

  There was to be a dinner-dance that evening in the club and Lissa was due to sing for the guests, She re­hearsed with Pierre for a while and then went down into the town. She wandered through the gay shopping centre without really noticing much. At a distance she saw Joanne Lucas in a flower-printed sun-dress which left her slim thighs bare. The woman was smiling to herself with a sensuality which made Lissa's teeth meet. The absent, amused expression on Joanne Lucas's face-sickened her.

  Had Luc stayed in her room long? Had he gone to bed with the woman? What did she know about him, anyway? She had only met him a few days ago and she only knew about him what he had told her himself. She had known Chris all her life and loved him more than anyone she had ever met. Her mother had been a distant memory, her father always drinking. Chris had been brother, friend, lover to her. Why should she blindly accept what a stranger told her about him?

  She went into the fort and wandered around there in the bat-haunted crumbling walls listening to the roar of the surf and the laughter and cries of swimmers and surfers.

  In a few short days everything in her world had changed, including herself. She felt as though she had been half alive, a formless creature, half child half woman, but now Luc had somehow brought her fully to life, stiffened her dreamy contentment into some­thing very different.

  She felt fully mature for the first time in her life. Her mind was thinking harshly, certainly, and she was suffering the ravages which maturity can bring.

  Now that Luc had opened her mind to it there were so many little things she had noticed but never thought about. The whole luxurious, soft-centred ambiance of the hotel, the island, had been part of her life for so long that it had never occurred to her to question any of it. She had heard snatches of talk, seen Chris and his men move in on someone who was causing trouble, without thinking about it. She had blithely accepted Chris's standards, his ready explanations.