A Bad Enemy (12 page)

Lisle gave him a dry look. 'Probably. Did he leave a message—ask me to call him back?

'Not really.' A little smile played round the corners of Gerard's mouth. 'As I say, he seemed a little upset. He wanted to know if today's announcement was some kind of ghastly hoax, and then he rang off. I almost felt sorry for him,' he added cheerfully.

'Oh dear!' Lisle stared down into the amber depths of the sherry. She had caught a glimpse of Jake's face, the firm mouth set grimly, the grey eyes narrowed. A week ago, the news of her engagement to Jake would not have cost Oliver a single pang, although it would undoubtedly have surprised him. After her performance at lunch the previous day, he probably felt he was entitled to some kind of explanation.

She said, 'I'd better telephone him…'

'I think not.' Jake's voice was quiet, but it held an inexorable note warning her that she defied him at her peril, that she had done enough damage already, and she felt herself flush.

Gerard was looking from Jake's rigid face to her mutinous expression with the light of unholy joy dancing in his eyes. 'Well, well,' he said softly. 'Not a rift in the lute already?' He gave lisle a conspiratorial smile. 'Sorry, sweetie, perhaps I should have waited until we were on our own.'

Gerard, she thought in silent agony, for your own sake if not for mine, this is not the time for idle mischief-making. It was this predilection for planting barbs, she knew, which so infuriated Oliver Grayson and the other directors. She prayed Mrs Peterson would arrive to announce dinner, and thankfully heard the housekeeper's brisk footstep approaching across the hall as if in answer to that silent petition.

She was about to leave the room in Gerard's wake when Jake's hand gripped her arm, detaining her. She winced at the bruising pressure of his fingers. 'What is it?' she asked.

'I meant what I said.' The dark face was menacing. 'You leave Grayson alone, you little tease! Things at Harlow Bannerman are going to be difficult enough without my second in command having fantasies that I've stolen the girl he loves.'

'He's not in love with me,' Lisle protested.

'But not for want of trying on your part, if what I saw at the restaurant was a fair sample,' he bit at her.

She tried to wrench herself free and failed, glaring up at him, her breasts rising and falling swiftly. 'What do you want me to say to him—that I wouldn't have him if he came gift-wrapped?'

'You don't have to say anything,' he said softly. 'I'll deal with him myself.'

'My goodness,' she jeered, 'anyone would think you were jealous, Mr Allard.'

'Anyone would be wrong, Miss Bannerman.' He released her almost contemptuously. 'I simply don't trust you, that's all.

She walked ahead of him, her head held high, into the dining room. She supposed she had asked for that, but it had hurt just the same. As she helped herself to the smoked fish pâté, she noticed Gerard looking at her wrist, and realised there were angry red marks where Jake's fingers had gripped her flesh. Flushing, she pulled down her sleeve to hide them.

When the meal was over, Gerard excused himself from accompanying them to the hospital.

'In the interim period, Murray may have thought of some more of my shortcomings,' he said languidly. 'I'm sure the sight of two loving hearts in harmony will do him far more good.'

They drove to the hospital in silence. Through her lashes, Lisle watched Jake's cold, Unyielding profile, weeping inside as she did so.

When he braked in the car park and switched off the ignition, she began to fumble for the door catch, but he said, 'Just a moment,' and she paused, turning her head to look fully at him, slight alarm widening her eyes.

'Before we go up to the ward, perhaps you'd tell me what it's all about,' he said.

'I don't understand.

'Don't you? In our brief but momentous acquaintance I've seen you go from siren to schoolgirl, and now back to siren again. Why?

She shrugged. 'You want me to play along. You can't complain if I choose to do so in my own way.'

'I wasn't thinking of complaining,' he said. 'So let's really enter into the spirit of the thing… '

He pulled her into his arms, turning her so that she was lying helplessly across his body, and then began to kiss her, his mouth possessing hers in a ruthless and insatiable domination. For a moment she struggled, her hands beating frenziedly at his chest and shoulders, then as his lips forced hers apart, and the kiss deepened, she felt her senses drowning in sweetness, her resistance surrendering to the urgency of the moment.

She kissed him back, her response tuned passionately to his, her arms winding round his neck to draw him closer. His hand sought the soft roundness of her breast, his lean fingers, cupping, caressing until she moaned in her throat at the exquisite torment.

And then with shocking suddenness, she was free. Jake was pulling away from her, unlocking her arms from round him without gentleness.

He said harshly, 'That should add a little conviction to your performance.'

Almost before she knew what was happening, they were across the car park and approaching the main entrance. He was holding her arm, and Lisle had nearly to run in order to keep up with his long stride.

She said desperately, 'Jake—wait! I—I can't go in there looking like this.

'You think Murray will be shocked?' he asked cynically. 'He won't. He'll be delighted. It will prove just how right we are for each other.'

Lisle caught a single horrifying glimpse of herself in the mirror in the foyer, her mouth swollen with passion, the lipstick blurred, her eyes enormous and fever-bright, spots of hectic colour along her cheekbones. No one was looking at her because they were all too preoccupied with their own business, but she felt all the same as if she was the cynosure of all eyes, and she was blushing all over as she stumbled beside him into the empty lift.

She said thickly, 'You think Murray will thank you for degrading me?'

'Is that how it was?' Jake asked cynically. 'Tell him I forced you, if it makes you feel better, beauty. Show him the bites and scratches and the bruises you made on me defending yourself.'

She shook. 'You bastard!' Tears were stinging at the back of her eyes, and aching in her throat. Convulsively, she forced them back, her nails digging into the palms of her hands.

She had more or less regained some measure of control by the time they reached Murray's room. He was watching the door eagerly, and a broad smile spread over his face when he saw them.

'You look wonderful!' Lisle bent to kiss him.

'So do you.' Even his voice sounded stronger, and the frail pinched look had vanished from round his nose and mouth. He lifted her hand, his eyes full of warmth and satisfaction, and studied her ring.

'A good choice,' he pronounced eventually. 'A diamond for my diamond of a girl.'

Lisle felt slow embarrassed colour steal into her face, and she didn't dare even glance at Jake to see his reaction to this testimonial. She could imagine only too well the cynical amusement in his eyes.

'And where's that scapegrace grandson of mine?' Murray demanded.

'At home,' said Lisle, relieved that the spotlight was directed elsewhere. 'He's had enough bullying for one day.'

'Should have done it years ago,' her grandfather grumbled. 'Might have made something of him if I had. Perhaps it's not too late even now.' He sighed sharply. He directed another of his fierce glances at Lisle; 'Well, have you fixed the date of the wedding yet?'

She stared at him, confused and miserable, and lost for words.

Jake said, 'It's you we're waiting for—Lisle naturally wants you to be there, to give her away. We've planned a very quiet ceremony quite deliberately, so that it can be organised just as soon as you say the word.'

In many ways, it was the perfect answer. She recognised that, but his words chilled her blood because they made her realise that Murray might not get better and Jake knew it. She was very quiet for the remainder of the visit, which was occupied by a discussion of the way the following week's meetings at Harlow Bannerman would probably go. At any other time, she would have been fascinated, but as things were, she felt curiously detached from the whole thing as if it were no longer any concern of hers.

As they walked towards the lift, Jake glanced at her, brows raised. 'Why so silent? Outraged at my duplicity again?'

'No.' She. shook her head: 'It-it was the right thing to say, and I know why you said it. It just isn't very easy to accept.'

'I can believe that.' His voice was dry.

As the lift descended, she said half to herself, 'But he looks so much better.'

'That doesn't always mean a great deal,' he said flatly. 'I thought you knew that.'

Lisle shivered. 'Yes, I suppose I did.' She saw the grey eyes gentle to silver, saw him move, and knew that he was going to take her in his arms. She shrank in rejection. She was too vulnerable, and kindness from him at this juncture could well lead to total self-betrayal.

'Don't touch me,' she said hoarsely.

His hands were on her shoulders, their warmth burning her skin.

Lisle closed her eyes, swallowing weakly. 'I said—let me go. No one's going to be impressed if you maul me now,' she added savagely. 'Least of all me.'

His fingers tightened on her flesh so harshly that she almost cried out, then she was free.

More marks, she thought, fighting a little wave of hysteria. More bruises to hide. And deep within her heart, in the ungiven core of her being, a wound that might never heal, or would leave her scarred for life.

Silence closed heavily around them as he drove her back to the house. He had said over dinner that he would be returning to London that night, and she had expected he would leave right away. A drive through the evening, she thought, to the flat where Cindy Leighton would be waiting for him.

Yet he was right behind her as she walked into the house, where Mrs Peterson greeted them with the information that Gerard was out, and the offer of some refreshment.

'Some coffee, please.' Jake shed his car coat. 'Perhaps you'd bring it to the drawing room.'

Lisle hung back. 'I don't want coffee,' she protested. 'I'm going up to my room. I—I have a headache.'

Jake's mouth twisted contemptuously. 'You're being a little premature, beauty. Women usually save that excuse for after the wedding ceremony. Well, you can watch me drink coffee, if you really don't want any yourself, and we can talk. I think it's time we got a few things straight.'

'I've heard everything you have to say,' she said bitterly. 'Surely we don't have to go over the same ground again and again?'

'Well, you haven't heard this,' he said tersely. 'I think it's time this scheme of ours took a new direction, Lisle.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean that we should abandon the pretence and do exactly as Murray wants. Get married.'

Dry-mouthed, she said, 'You're—crazy!'

'It's a crazy situation,' he acknowledged impatiently. 'We may not care for the way we've been thrown together, but Murray could have a point. I'm tired of service flats, and persuading company wives to act as my hostess when I entertain. It's time I married, had a place I can call home. And you're used to that kind of life. You could cope.'

'Yes.' She looked down at her hands, tightly clasped together in her lap, at the cold flare of the diamond ring. 'But women don't usually get married simply because they can—cope.'

'What is it that you want?' he asked. 'Financial security? A measure of sexual satisfaction? I think I can promise you those.'

Lisle bit her lip. 'It sounds so—cold-blooded.'

'It's an arrangement,' he said tautly. 'And who's to say that Murray might not be right, and that it might not work out well eventually.'

She gave him a direct look. 'But you don't really believe that?'

He shrugged. 'Let's say I'm willing to take a chance. How about you?'

She swallowed. 'I can't—I'm sorry.'

Jake stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. At last he said, 'Let's leave it open, shall we? Give you time to think.' He hesitated. 'I have things to do this weekend, so I shan't be down. I presume you'll come to the office on Monday,' he added on a dry note.

She looked at him indignantly. 'Yes, of course.'

'In the past there's been no "of course" about it,' he said unanswerably. 'Perhaps you're proposing to become a reformed character as well as your brother.'

Her glance fell away. 'Your coffee's coming,' she said quietly. 'Perhaps you'd excuse me.'

The headache was genuine now, an iron band tightening round heir temples.

Jake shrugged. 'If that's what you want.' He walked across to her as she rose to her feet, and put a hand under her chin, tilting her face towards him, the grey eyes cool and searching as they examined her.

She seemed to stop breathing, terrified that he was going to kiss her again, because if he did she would be lost, ready to promise him anything—even a loveless arrangement of a marriage.

But Mrs Peterson was already at the door with the tray, and Jake's hand fell away from her, enabling her to make her escape.

She found some aspirin in her bathroom cupboard and swallowed two. She sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers laced across her burning forehead as she waited for them to take effect, longing for the oblivion that sleep would bring, and knowing that nothing could assuage the pain inside her.

He had said he would give her time to think, and she knew what that would mean—minutes that would seem like hours, hours that would seem like days while she tormented herself with what might have been. What there could be still, she thought, as long as she didn't hope for too much, too soon.

He would not love her, but he had admitted that she could be useful to him and—faint colour stained her face—he wanted her. The urge to possess her ran strong in him still. Every time he touched her, she was aware of it, her physical sensitivity heightened by her emotional response to him.

It would be easy, she told herself yearningly, so easy to go with the tide, and accept the terms she had Been offered.