Maid for Marriage

by Sue Peters

  Evidently the dog's owners had missed their pet, and phoned round their neighbours to find it. But taking it back to them would mean that Manoj might be away for some time, and Gita, too, might be a while attending to the children,

  Dee realised with an unease that lent an edge to her voice as she snapped, 'Such as?'

  As soon as she had spoken she wished the words unsaid. They acted like a burnish to bring life back to the quartz-flecked eyes, which burst into a fire that warmed the tension from Luke's body. His hands moulded her to him, and his voice murmured, 'Such as thanking me for rescuing you this afternoon.'

  His lips bored down on to her mouth, exacting the thanks with interest. Frantically Dee tried to twist her head away, to free her lips from the shock waves of sensation which started from the contact and flooded through her whole being.

  She felt herself drowning in the flood, helplessly carried away on a tidal wave of feeling that swept away all thoughts of the dog, of Manoj and Gita and the children, and left only herself, and Luke.

  He was behaving like a savage...a monster...a man, and the dormant woman inside Dee, which Alan had signally failed to arouse, uncurled itself like a sleeping tigress, and rose to meet the onslaught.

  How different this was from what she had once believed to be love! The difference swept away her defences, and with a tiny moan her lips parted under the relentless pressure of Luke's kiss. Dee felt herself begin to go pliant in his arms, responding with a passion she didn't know she was capable of as her body arched to meet his, exchanging kiss for kiss.

  Dark shadows marked Dee's eyes the next morning, betraying her restless night. Sleep eluded her until late, and when it finally came it brought with it no rest.

  'Now, do you want me to help you to bed?' Luke taunted when he finally released her.

  Dee put up a hand to cover her quivering lips, pressing back the answer that instinct demanded should be 'Yes. Yes, I do', and reason sternly warned her must be 'No!'

  Luke laughed, a triumphant sound, deep in his throat like the growl of a tiger, reading the answer he wanted in her wild eyes, and mocking it. The laugh acted like a knife to cut away the bonds which bound her, and, with an inarticulate cry that was neither yes nor no, Dee wrenched herself free from his hold, fled to her room, and pushed the door hard shut behind her.

  Even with the barrier firmly between them, she found she was unable to shut out the image of her tormentor. He was there in her dreams, in which she clung desperately to her bolting pony, fleeing not from the snake, but from Luke, who pursued her relentlessly, always gaining on her, and calling out, 'I'll be back...'

  She awoke trembling and damp with perspiration, 'spooked', as the polo player had so succinctly put it, just like her unfortunate pony. Her head ached with tension, and her lips with shame for having been so weak as to betray her by returning Luke's kisses.

  Her heart winced at the memory, warning her that it, too, risked suffering the same pain again, only this time much worse, unless she could remain strong to pursue her chosen path, and didn't allow herself to weaken and turn aside, tempted by distractions along the way.

  Luke was a distraction, and worse.

  As slumber finally came to claim her her drowsing mind registered a sharp, explosive sound, coming from somewhere close by. She listened for a while, but it was not repeated.

  Perhaps it was a car backfiring. It was late for travellers, but people were coming and going among the holiday bungalows all the time. Maybe someone had been entertaining and let off a firework? In this fascinating land of many cultures firecrackers seemed to be an inseparable ingredient of any celebration.

  The helicopter arrived late the next morning, delayed by a thick mist which shrouded the hillsides, making it impossible for the machine to land.

  'Will this mean you'll miss your flight, Luke?' Gita worried, and Dee thought desperately, We mustn't miss the flight. It would be too cruel. The quicker she could get away from the relaxed holiday atmosphere of the bungalow, the better. Relaxed was a misnomer. Her nerves felt as tight as an overwound watch spring, and she longed to plunge back into the safety of her normal, hectic, workaday world.

  There she would have no time in which to think about anything but the hundred and one problems which presented themselves unasked, and which would, she hoped, leave no room for Luke in her mind.

  She wouldn't be able to force him out of her life until the period of the exhibition was over. Roll on the day! she wished fervently as Luke answered his hostess, 'The sun should soon burn off the mist. Anyway, we're booked on an early-evening flight, so we've got time to spare.'

  An early-evening flight meant hours yet to be spent in Luke's sole company. Swiftly Dee reversed her wish, and hoped instead that the mist would hang about until the last possible moment, to allow her to remain in the company of Gita and her family, who until now had acted as an efficient buffer between herself and Luke.

  She dreaded the thought of meeting him at breakfast-time, and she had left it until the last possible moment to leave her room and join the others. She didn't know how she would meet him, how she would look, or behave. She felt as if his kisses had left a mark on her lips, clear for all the world to see.

  Even more unnerving, how would Luke behave?

  Dee's hand trembled as she opened her bedroom door and forced her reluctant feet in the direction of the veranda, but Luke's cool, 'Good morning,' gave no hint of what had passed between them the evening before.

  It was a studied rebuff, and anger—as much against herself as against Luke—rose to stiffen Dee's resolve.

  That was another lesson she needed to learn, and the quicker she was able to absorb it, the better she would profit by it. Kisses meant nothing to a man beyond the brief satisfaction of the moment.

  No doubt Luke had slept like a log last night, dreamless, uncaring, while she had tossed and turned, haunted by a myriad conflicting emotions, not one of which would trouble the man who was the cause of them.

  Dee accepted her cup of breakfast coffee, refused food, which she felt would choke her if she tried to swallow it, and made her excuse to Gita, 'It's too early in the day for me to eat.'

  She turned aside to help the younger boy slot together the first pieces of his jigsaw. The bottom outline of the picture was sharply defined, as befitted his age group, but he complained. 'I can't see how all these bits are going to fit together to make a picture. It's all jumbly. Not a bit like it looks on the lid of the box.'

  Dee sent him a glance of sympathetic understanding. She knew just how he felt. Her voice encouraged, 'Keep trying. It will all work out as you go along,' while her mind wondered, Will my picture work out? The picture she had mapped out for her own future—would it, too, slot together as she went along?

  It had all seemed straightforward to start with. She had had only two objectives, both of them simple enough in themselves. She would steer clear of men. And travel. Simple! Her road had led straight ahead, the future clearly defined.

  Luke had introduced the first twist.

  His behaviour last night blurred the outlines, and jumbled the picture, and Dee hung on grimly to the scattered pieces, fearful that the memory of his kisses might destroy her ability to slot them together into the picture she wanted them to be.

  The rest of the day passed more easily than she had dared to hope, until the time came for herself and Luke to set out for the airport.

  As he bade his friends goodbye Dee heard Manoj ask, 'Will your parents be home in time for the exhibition, Luke? It will be nice to see them again,' and he replied,

  'I'm afraid not. Since Dad retired they've taken to globe-trotting. They are still on the last lap of their current cruise. They should be back by the time you come again, though, in the spring.'

  'We'll look forward to seeing them then,' Manoj said, and Gita added with a warm smile,

  'And Mari, too?'

  'And Mari, too,' Luke said with an echo of the same smile, and Dee wondered, as she boarded the helico
pter, Who is Mari? What is she in Luke's life?

  She remained silent, sitting behind Luke and the pilot, locked in a world of her own thoughts. Luke's life is not my business, nor mine his, she told herself firmly, but the question persisted as she stared with unseeing eyes out of the aircraft cabin to where a veil of thin mist still blurred the outlines on the ground, making them as confused as her thoughts.

  She emerged from her reverie with a start when the pilot began to point out the major sights of the approaching city, now clear and distinct below them. Dee gave herself a brisk mental shake. She hadn't realised they were so close.

  'Surely that's the temple where we heard the bells? And the market-place where I bought my scarf?' Eagerly she set about identifying from the air the monuments she had visited at ground level, welcoming the distraction to give herself something else to think about.

  When they landed she discovered that Delhi had cooled considerably during her absence, but, in contrast to the keener air of the hills, it was still unbearably hot.

  'It's stifling,' she gasped, and Luke slanted her a keen look, and consoled,

  'You won't have to endure it for long.'

  Endure was a fitting description for sharing Luke's company, Dee thought ruefully, and was prepared to forgive Delhi for any shortcomings when her colleague appeared, complete with car, to meet them.

  She wouldn't be obliged to spend the rest of the day alone with Luke, after all.

  Her colleague drove them first to Dee's hotel to collect the rest of her luggage, and then on to Luke's for the same purpose, and he remained with them during lunch.

  This time, Dee noticed, Luke chose a meat dish, but the business lunch atmosphere lacked the shine of that other, earlier occasion, and she had little interest in her surroundings, and even less in her meal.

  They ate mostly in silence, the purpose that brought them all together large in the forefront of their minds, but dangerous to discuss in a crowded dining-room, and Dee grasped at the respite to steady her jangled nerves and hoped that her luck would hold when she eventually reached England.

  Until now she had managed to put the prospect of her coming work at Ransom Court to the back of her mind. Now it began to loom close, hovering like a storm cloud on her near horizon, and refusing to be ignored.

  She wondered if Bill's itinerary would allow her to snatch a day or two to herself first. She sorely needed a break away from Luke, to enable her to gather her poise before she presented herself at Ransom Court.

  Dee gave a wry smile. Present herself at court, at the behest of the king of the antique world. Except that she felt more like a sacrificial offering than a debutante.

  She was still unsure what dates Bill had finally fixed for the exhibition. Her last conversation with him had ended on the note, 'Don't bother to ring me at base while you're in the hills with Ransom's friends. Just enjoy yourself. I'll get our Delhi contact to telegraph me details of your return flight, and I'll clue you up when you get back.'

  The message to Bill would, as usual, be in code so that it did not draw undesirable attention to her return, with her precious cargo in tow. Dee agreed, 'That's fine. I'll wait until then.'

  But now the uncertainty tugged at her stretched nerves. She could ask Luke, of course. He would most probably know. But when he had informed her about offering Ransom Court as the venue for the exhibition he had said nothing about dates, and Dee's pride refused to allow her to question him.

  'If you're ready, shall we go?'

  Her colleague spoke in a voice that was loud enough to make Dee wonder if he had said the same thing before, probably more than once, and she had been too absorbed in her thoughts to hear him. Confused, she pushed them to one side, mumbled, 'I'm ready,' and wondered wearily,

  Ready for what? as she followed the two men out to the car.

  The pieces which had been needed to complete the exhibit proved to be modern jewellery at its finest, the very best of its kind in workmanship and design, and as Dee gazed at the glittering pile, assembled for their inspection as before, on black velvet, her eyes reflected the sparkle of the gems.

  Each piece was infinitely desirable, individually worth a fortune, and far beyond her own reach, but a cat can look at a king, she told herself amusedly.

  By her side, Luke murmured, 'Beauty to adorn beauty,' and she cast him a sharp upward glance.

  His eyes were fixed on one particular ring in a set of four, and the glint in them betrayed a desire to own it. For Mari? They were women's rings, not men's. It would have to be someone very special, Dee reflected, to warrant such a costly gift.

  She had no doubt that Luke could afford it, although in spite of his wealth she couldn't recall having seen him wear any jewellery himself, not even a signet ring.

  Perhaps it didn't turn him on personally? It crossed her mind to wonder, What did? The 'what' turned into 'who', and the name Mari floated across her mind. She pushed it away almost fiercely. She wasn't interested in any 'who' in Luke's life, whatever the name, but the question continued to hover like a persistent insect, and she swatted it determinedly with a brisk query to her colleague, 'Do you have a special carrying case for the exhibits to travel in?'

  During her travels for Bill she had never before been in charge of anything small enough to be actually carried on her person. Always the artefacts had been of a size, or a quantity, that warranted packaging, and stowing away in the holds of ships or planes, or in the backs of security vans, always accompanied but never carried by Dee personally.

  The whole of this consignment put together would fit into a couple of good-sized pockets, most of the space being needed by the antique exhibits. It made the personal risk to the courier who carried the case so much the greater, and was the point of Luke's harsh criticism.

  Her colleague nodded. 'It's a small briefcase, with all the usual security devices.'

  That meant a chain to lock it to her wrist, with a loud hail alarm, and probably a smoke signal of some kind, activated by a good hard tug at the chain such as a thief might make.

  The man reached towards a case standing on the floor under the table, and instantly Luke checked him by a firm, 'It will be safer to do it my way.'

  He pulled a soft leather strip from his pocket with strap ends resembling a body belt, and Dee watched with growing astonishment as he unrolled it on to the table, and began calmly to fit the exhibits into the small pockets cut deep into the leather, until only the four rings were left still lying on the table.

  When he was satisfied that the items were all securely enclosed Luke began to strap the filled belt round his waist, underneath his khaki bush shirt. A detached part of Dee's mind realised that this must be why Luke had worn casuals, instead of a suit, to travel in.

  It had surprised her when he had appeared in mufti at breakfast time. Now the reason became obvious. Even such a small item as a piece of jewellery would stick out to spoil the line of the perfectly fitted tailoring of his cream linen suit, and so betray the presence of something to hide to the eyes of those they most wanted to hide it from.

  Something else dawned upon her: Luke had come ready prepared to collect the gems and carry them on his own person. Always before, when clients had provided her with an escort, that escort had deferred to her decision as to how the cargo was to be handled.

  This escort made his own decisions, and expected her to defer to them. He had not bothered to consult her beforehand, but had simply gone ahead and brought the leather belt with him, taking her acceptance for granted.

  Expecting her to fall into line without demur. In tandem. Resentment spilled out of Dee, and she turned on Luke.

  'It's my job to carry the exhibits, not yours. I'm the one who is insured. The case will be safer. It will be locked to my wrist.'

  'And advertise to any interested parties that we're going home loaded.' Luke continued to buckle, and his words gave Dee pause, checking the explosive protest that sprang to her lips.

  'Interested parties' meant inter
national jewel thieves, who would stop at nothing to gain what they wanted. And 'loaded' was right. The jargon of the trade. Laconic, descriptive, totally chilling. Dee felt herself go colder still at Luke's next words.

  'You can wear the rings on your fingers.'

  She stared at him. 'Wear them?' She gulped, and had to take a hard breath before she could go on. She felt her mouth to be wide as her eyes with shock, and with an effort she snapped it shut, and gritted, 'You can't be serious. After all you said about Bill being careless of safety, and now you have the nerve to suggest that I actually wear the rings on my fingers? You must be out of your mind. It's inviting trouble to carry the rings in full view.'

  'Turn the stones round in your palm, and close your fingers over them. That way only the gold bands will show, and I'll hold your hand to cover those.' A slight smile lifted the corners of Luke's lips. 'Your hand is tiny enough to go right inside mine.'

  Dee opened her mouth to protest, and Luke's voice hardened on an authoritative note. 'No one is going to take any notice of a couple holding hands, particularly when they're dressed in holiday gear. They'll think the obvious, and lose interest.'

  'Oh, great!' Dee muttered under her breath, and Luke cast her a searching glance.

  'If any members of the Press happen to be around when we get to Heathrow, and they get the wrong impression, too bad.'

  Too bad for who? For Luke? Or for herself? Or the unknown Mari? Perhaps Luke was giving her, Dee, a warning not to get the wrong impression herself from the fact that they had spent the holiday in the hills together, and that he had kissed her, and now suggested holding hands.

  He had no need to worry on that score, she thought hardly. She intended to fit the pieces of her personal jigsaw into a picture of her own choosing, not his.

  Whatever his reasons, his logic was unarguable, and Bill would expect her to go along with what he said. Had, indeed, instructed her to do so. There was no dishonour in strategic withdrawal when it was in a common cause. Only dented pride, and an unseemly desire to shout at Luke 'Wear the rings yourself, and hold your own hand'.