Flame saw her begin to riffle through a heavy address book. 'Don't worry,' she mouthed as she quickly punched in the first call and the phone began to burr, 'there's safety in numbers.'
With a glance Flame went outside again. Samantha liked nothing better than social crises. Sometimes Flame wondered if she engineered them, aided by Emilio's quite obvious lack of guile. At least Emilio's openness made a change from the deviousness that seemed to be Marlow's stock in trade.
She couldn't help wondering what he was doing at this moment, an unbidden image of him entwined in Victoria's welcoming arms blasting through her with a stomach-wrenching blow that momentarily stopped her breath. Taking a grip on herself, she forced herself to shut out the image and think of something else.
Rafael was making himself useful near the barbecue. He looked up when Flame reappeared and took the drink she offered with a quizzical tilt of his head. 'To your happiness, Flame. Welcome home.' There was a rueful twist to his lips and a sudden moment when the stillness between them spoke volumes of the regret he obviously felt.
'To your happiness too.' Her voice faltered and she bit her lip, wary of the special intimacy he seemed to want to force on her by his obvious show of interest.
He put a hand out as if to smooth a tendril of hair from her bare shoulder. 'I understand how things are. See me as a port in a storm—no strings. It's good to have friends.'
Flame blinked. Obviously he knew all about Marlow and Victoria. He wanted her to trust him—his eyes told her so. But she didn't want to take it any further. And her eyes, she hoped, told him that.
Then she felt something like a trickle of ice down her spine. A silent figure had appeared in the french windows. He stood without moving until she felt she could bear his controlled tension no longer. Stumbling forward, she nearly knocked Rafael's glass from out of his hand, but recovering, she hurried forward a couple of paces, before stopping again, her eyes glued to the expression on Marlow's face, guilt, she felt sure, engraved visibly on her own. But guilt for what? she thought furiously as she read the same impression in Marlow's ice-blue look.
'So we're having a party, Sam tells me. That's nice,' his voice grated with anything but pleasure. He came heavily down the steps with all the purpose of a man taking over. Flame felt branded as he moved his lips possessively and ostentatiously over her face before turning to their guest.
'Haven't I just seen you in town?' he asked in dangerously casual tones.
Rafael looked momentarily confused.
'I thought I saw you getting into your car as I drove up?' Marlow persisted, with a smile like an alligator.
'I guess you did. Sorry I couldn't stop.' Rafael licked his lips.
'No doubt you thought I'd be away longer than I was?' Marlow smiled easily as if there were no underlying meaning in what he was saying, but it was clear he thought Rafael had come straight out to see Flame as soon as he thought the coast was clear. He stood solidly between the two of them, almost blocking Flame out of the conversation. She moved round, bringing herself closer to Rafael than she meant to—but then, she thought, as she saw Marlow's expression, he had brought it on himself. It was all really too silly. Why did he keep pretending he was jealous? Would he lose face with other men if he allowed her too much freedom? It was pathetic—especially as he'd just come from the arms of his mistress. The thought made her want to be sick.
'I'll leave you two men to talk shop,' she said, tossing her long hair and giving them both a dismissive glance. Let them get on with it, she thought.
She fled indoors. 'Honestly, Sam,' she said crossly when she found her, 'those two are treating me like a piece of meat to be fought over!'
'How crude you are!'
'How insulting they are!'
Samantha was still busy at the telephone, but she held her hand on top of the receiver. 'Sure you're not enjoying your power? Rafael's a lovely man. Just the type to keep a husband on his toes—though perhaps that's the last thing you need at this point.'
'Sam, I'm exhausted by all this. Believe me! Why can't life be simple?' Flame clapped a hand to her mouth when she realised she was unconsciously quoting Marlow, though in a somewhat different context.
Later, as the last of the twenty or so guests Sam had managed to round up took their departure, her thoughts hadn't changed. It had been a pleasant welcome home with plenty of follow-up invitations, and the only cloud on the horizon was Marlow.
All evening he had watched her like a hungry panther eyeing its latest victim. It wasn't that he prevented her from talking to Rafael if she wanted to, it was just that his dark eyes followed her everywhere. She took care to avoid doing anything to inflame his suspicions, spreading her attentions equally among the guests, but Rafael watched her too, his eyes dark with lost opportunity. She hoped he could see she wouldn't welcome any further advances. It must be obvious to him that she had enough to think about, with Marlow brooding over her like a particularly dangerous predator.
When the last guest had gone she was alone on the terrace until a silky voice in her ear made her swivel.
'Ten out of ten for good behaviour!' Marlow slid an arm round her waist, dragging her violently against his taut body. When she was safely trapped in his arms he murmured, 'I've been wanting to do this ever since we were interrupted this afternoon.' He claimed her lips before she could reply, and she shivered in his arms.
'Cold?' He enveloped her more completely in his grip. But it wasn't the temperature, but the fact that the night lay ahead of them, the endless night hours...
The night was still warm, in fact, windless, and full of stars. He kissed the side of her forehead. 'We're not going in yet.' He lifted her fingers halfway to his lips as if about to kiss them, then, apparently thinking better of it, pulled her towards the stone steps leading up to the roof. At the top Flame couldn't restrain a little gasp. It was like a world of its own. Away from the lights of the house the sky was like an endless velvet tunnel leading straight to eternity.
'The Iroquois believe the stars are millions of pebbles thrown into the well of night by the gods in a game of chance,' he told her in a voice as soft as fate. 'Each star has written on it a separate destiny. There's you up there, and me...'
She was trembling now at the thought of their inevitable destiny, and allowed him to tuck her hand inside the pocket of his white dinner-jacket as he led her across the roof-terrace. Music was floating up from the valley. She felt faint under the tormenting caress of his thumb inside her wrist. Her whole body seemed to flame and her senses were more alive than ever, focusing on that one point of physical contact as if it were the pivot of the universe.
Before her knees quite gave way Marlow unfolded her hand from his pocket and pulled her down on to the cushions piled on the wide parapet, leaning back against the iron balustrade with his arms outstretched towards her. Then he drew her slowly down to him, his eyes black hollows, only his teeth gleaming as he murmured her name.
'You look like heaven in this cream silk, darling. Perfect with your butterscotch hair. How the hell I managed to keep my hands off you all evening-—' His voice dropped a couple of intervals. 'You were driving me wild, did you know? Everybody could tell...'
Flame tried to control the crazy hammering of desire his words aroused, aware that he always had the power to mesmerise her when he wanted to with his husky voice. Now she could feel its power beginning to work on her again, though she tried to tell herself that words were cheap and that a man of his experience knew every trick in the book.
'It's late --' she began, irrationally trying to stave off the inevitable.
'I won't rush you...' He pulled her back, tracing a pattern over the back of the hand, lie had caught, and she saw his eyes glint like silver in the darkness.
'It was a nuisance having to break off so suddenly this afternoon,' he murmured. 'Though maybe things were beginning to get a bit out of hand. You drove me to say things I didn't mean. Bad luck I was called away... but at least it's given me a chance
to cool down.' He paused. 'And maybe you've had a chance to think things over too...'
'It doesn't matter.' She turned her head so she didn't have to look at him. 'Business always comes first,' she said bitterly. He was trying to enchant her with his magic. Yet even knowing that, she felt helpless to resist. But she mustn't let him see that. Her heart was bumping rapidly, surely audible, a give-away to the effect of his nearness.
'This afternoon was a drag,' he frowned. 'It was something only I could handle, as it turned out.'
I bet! she thought, still trying to resist, once again imagining Victoria rippling with pleasure in his arms. But his voice was so softly persuasive she was almost tempted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps it had been work. Something urgent. His business interests were obviously colossal.
But it wasn't the first time things had been like this. And as he had so rightly said, it was only lust. And all it meant was that lies could be told in a voice no different from the voice of love.
When her head tilted and she gazed into his face she was surprised to see a nerve jump at the side of his mouth. Before she could surmise what sort of emotion it betrayed he said abruptly, 'Get to know me again, Flame. Relearn me.'
'How?' she blurted, her eyes widening a little.
'In every way possible,' he murmured, fixing her with his glance.
The warm heat of his body echoed the spoken invitation, bringing a shudder of desire slamming through her. To conceal it she pretended to look out across the tops of the trees below them, aware that he was deliberately trying to awaken her hunger for him, and trying to conceal how easily he could do it.
'I'd like to know you properly, Marlow,' she admitted with trembling lips. 'We never seemed to have time before.' She wondered if he knew how her control was hanging by a thread. She forced herself to go on. 'You've never talked to me about yourself. Never told me about your past.' She gave a grown-up little smile. 'I know you must have one.'
Her attempt to normalise the situation before they were swept to the land of no return seemed to work. Marlow gave a grimace and leaned back, but then he said, 'Don't you think you might have been upset by some of the things I could have told you?'
'Why do you put it in the past?' she frowned.
There was a seemingly endless pause before he said, 'I'm not likely to make the same mistake twice.'
'Mistake?' She raised her head.
'The mistake of imagining it's either necessary or desirable to be close to any other being on the planet.' His lips were two firm lines.
'But that's terrible!' she exclaimed. 'You must be so lonely...'
'Lonely?' He gave a harsh laugh. 'When the chips are down I've only got myself. You're different. You've always had a loving family behind you. You've never known anything else. Anyway,' he went on before she could interrupt, 'I'm not in the business of dredging up the past for anybody these days. It's not what counts.'
'What does count, Marlow?' Flame asked in a small voice. 'Success? Is that all that matters to you now?'
'You've got it in one, darling. Success, having things my own way. Having you.' His eyes glinted cynically and she longed for his former mood to return when they had begun to seem a little closer.
'What's the point of success,' she asked, 'if there's nobody to share it with?' When his only answer was an abrupt snort of derision she made an effort to recreate the intimacy of their former mood by asking, 'I don't know why you think I'd be upset by anything you have to say. As you've just told me, what's past is past.'
'You mean you'd like to hear about my former girlfriends?' Marlow raised an eyebrow.
'Maybe not all about them.' She bit her lip and gave him a shaky smile. 'But it's no good if there are secrets between us. Not if we're going to try to get through the next six months together.'
To her relief he leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. 'You're right, of course—we never have talked much. There was always too much else to do...' His eyes were liquid, full of other meanings, but seeing her expression he closed them and began, 'The past... it seems like a mirage now. There's nothing in my present life to compare with it. Thank heavens for that!' He opened his eyes and gave her a careful look.
'It couldn't have been all bad,' she observed, wondering if this was how he was going to avoid telling her anything about it.
'It wasn't all bad,' his voice was soft, 'there were little pockets of pleasure, challenges accepted and won. I'm not one of these people who live life with a heart full of regrets.' He leaned back again and let his eyes probe the stars above them, then with a smile suddenly playing around his lips he admitted, 'The first girl who ever kissed me was called Holly Cinnamon. I was fourteen and she was sixteen. She decided she wanted me and that was it. I was immensely flattered. And the first girl I ever gave my heart to was Helen Jones. We were both seventeen. When I ran away from home,' he went on, 'I had to leave her behind. At the time it seemed the worst part of it. But I'd decided I couldn't stay, so that was that.'
His glance swivelled as he felt her lean towards him. 'Why did you leave home?' she asked softly.
'Strictly speaking I ran away from school. They decided to pack me off to boarding school for the first time at the age of seventeen. I wasn't having that. I changed trains on my way there and went to the nearest port, lied my way on board a merchant ship as a deckie and got off some months later in the next port, which happened to be Rio. By then Helen Jones and everything else that had led me to leave was but a distant memory. I forgot everything except the rules of the game I found myself in.'
He grinned wickedly, almost defiantly then, so that Flame got a glimpse of the boy he might have been at seventeen. 'They were harsh rules,' he went on, 'but I was a fast learner. My God,' he exclaimed, 'I must have had lady luck on my side in those days! But I came through. I won. I survived. One thing,' he told her, becoming serious, 'I resolved never to let a son of mine go through an experience like that.'
He reached out for her hand. 'I had a lot of --' He hesitated. 'Well, you asked for it. I had a lot of women in those days. A girl in every port. I spent six years bumming around the world—trekked across China, touched down in Australia and Indonesia, made my way back to Europe eventually via Calcutta and Bombay. I've found there's always somebody around willing and eager to offer a bed to a lonely young lad on his own in return for a little loving kindness. Things have changed now, but in those days you didn't question it. You could take each day as it came with a quick prayer to your lucky stars for what they provided.'
When he paused Flame asked, 'What made you stop travelling if you liked it so much?'
'I found the climate here congenial,' he said, somewhat evasively. After a pause he added, 'I had an aversion to turning into the sort of drunken seaman you find in every port with nothing to call his own but a fund of anecdotes.' He paused again. 'Actually, my mother died.'
The silence grew, and she wondered if he was ever going to go on, but finally with a small grimace he admitted, 'They told me afterwards she'd been asking for me right up to the end. I never made it back in time...' He turned away, harsh-voiced as he said, 'The past is finished with. There's no going back. I decided then, though, that I was going to leave something behind. Make my mark.'
'You've done that now.'
'Sure...' his lips twisted '... I've done it. This bit of coast was nothing but bleak scrub and a few dying villages when I arrived. Now it's a thriving community. I've brought people back to the area. I've built a clinic, a school, a library. I've done what I set out to do.'
Despite his words the harsh lines on his face expressed dissatisfaction. 'I wonder if we can ever have it all?' he mused half to himself. He gave a world-weary shrug. 'I was brought up by my mother. We didn't live in poverty—not the sort of poverty I've since seen in certain parts of the world—but it was tough. Maybe because there were just the two of us we were very close. I resolved to leave school and get a really good job at the earliest opportunity. Then she remarried.' H
e frowned. 'At first I was overjoyed. She was happy—she deserved to be. But things didn't quite work out the way I hoped.
It wasn't that the man she married wasn't comfortably off. And he was generous to Mother. He obviously cared for her. But he couldn't stand having a young buck like me on his territory, making him feel old. The family I'd dreamed about through the years when I'd seen other kids with their brothers and sisters, uncles, aunts, grandparents—the little family threesome I thought I was going to be part of remained a dream after all. He wanted rid of me. So that was that.'
His eyes glinted silver in the moonlight, self-mocking, his lips lifting cynically. 'That's life... Now I've got all the wealth! used to dream of giving to my mother, but still that elusive thing—a family of my own—escapes me.'
Something Samantha had told Flame came to mind and she was forced to say in a small voice, 'But you belong here, Marlow. With us.'
He gave a far-away smile. 'I used to think that, because I knew I'd found the right girl at last. And I believed— I believed I would one day have children of my own.' He paused. 'I suppose I had some romantic notion of the family because it was something I'd never had. I thought I could have it at last.' He gave a harsh laugh. 'Unrealistic, wasn't I?'
His confession had captured her sympathies, ensnaring her soul in a way she hadn't expected, but a subtle sexual chemistry was also at work between them, and it was this that was leading her deeper down the path she longed to follow. Now, despite her attempt to remain indifferent, the fires began to flare brighter as he slipped an arm around her waist. She felt the slight abrasion of his chin against her cheek as he turned his head and began to press her to him in an increasing fever of longing.
Biting delicately at the lobe of her ear, he began to slide his lips down the silken column of her neck, then retracing his tracks to take her lips, bruising them with a sudden storm of kisses that made her breathless with the longing for more.
Simply Forever Page 12
