Stormy Possession

by Helen Bianchin

  Where was he, for heaven's sake? Sally felt an edge of doubt begin to gnaw at her composure, making her vague and lacking in concentration. Perhaps he wouldn't come. Oh God—no matter how angry he was, he wouldn't not show up, surely?

  Her nerves shredded at the sound of the doorbell, and try as she might her smile was a facsimile of gaiety when Chantrelle entered the lounge with a strange man in tow.

  The muted peal of the telephone reached her ears, and she forced herself to sip her sherry slowly. The desire to toss it back was almost irresistible. She saw her father reach for the receiver, then speak, and after a few seconds of silence he appeared to smile.

  In mesmerised fascination she watched him cross the room to her side.

  'That was Luke,' he intimated quietly. 'He's just leaving Vaucluse now. Apparently he's been delayed in the city.'

  The relief was extraordinary. However, as the time of his arrival drew close Sally became jittery, and was unable to stop her gaze swivelling towards the front door at ten-second intervals. Finally she could stand it no longer, and made her escape to the kitchen on the pretext of checking the vegetables.

  Five minutes later some sixth sense warned her she was being watched, and she turned slowly, raising her head to meet the dark enigmatic gaze of her husband.

  'Have you been given a drink?' What a ridiculous thing to say—he had one in his hand! Oh, why didn't he say something—anything would be better than this awful silence.

  'You elected to disregard my wishes, I see,' Luke observed in a silky voice, and she suppressed a shiver of apprehension. 'Orders, don't you mean?' She ran a shaky hand through her hair, then ran the tip of her tongue nervously along her lower lip. What was wrong with her, for heaven's sake? Where was the customary anger he invariably managed to arouse? She should be feeling triumphant at having flouted him, but in-stead she felt incredibly forlorn.

  Luke moved into the room, his movements deliberately controlled. 'I prefer to term them otherwise.'

  'I refuse to be intimidated,' she issued quietly. 'And I'd prefer not to argue with you—at least, not here.'

  'In that case, I suggest you come into the lounge and share a drink with me, and endeavour to play the adoring wife,' he declared dryly, and Sally was unable to refrain from querying,

  'While you take the part of a devoted husband?'

  He stepped close and caught hold of her chin. 'Careful, piccina,' he warned. 'Do not ignite the fuse to my temper.'

  Sally looked at him wordlessly, and felt her lips tremble beneath his raking scrutiny. A brief hard kiss bruised her mouth, then she was free.

  'If you look at me like that, cara,' Luke drawled, 'it will be thought I beat you into submission.'

  'Can you deny that you don't intend to?' she countered shakily, and saw his lips twist into a mocking smile as he suggested smoothly,

  'Let us join your father's guests.' Taking hold of her elbow he led her out into the lounge, refilling her glass with solicitous care.

  Everyone in the room seemed to be smiling, and conscious that she was supposed to be an ecstatically happy bride, Sally attempted to play the part. With Luke at her side she circled the room, introducing him with seeming adoration to her father's friends. When they reached Chantrelle, Sally's smile was falsely bright.

  'There's no need for introductions, darling. Luke and I are old friends,' the other girl declared sunnily. 'Philip declined gracefully—and who could blame him?' She indicated the man at her side with a careless hand. 'This is Gavin Sanderson, one of my father's colleagues.'

  'A rather junior underling,' Gavin corrected. He appeared genuinely friendly, and Sally uttered a light laugh in response to his warm smile.

  'I'm surprised you didn't arrive together,' Chantrelle commented, deliberately barbing her words, and Luke offered in smooth explanation,

  'Sally wished to assist with dinner preparations.'

  'Of course—Sally cooked for a living, didn't she? Forgive me for not remembering,' Chantrelle replied tritely, which was a definite falsehood considering the number of dinners she'd enjoyed as Joe Ballinger's guest, Sally perceived.

  'They say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach,' Chantrelle continued idly, shooting Luke a look that was openly suggestive. 'I presume Sally does possess other talents?'

  Luke gave a light chuckle, then much to Sally's chagrin he caught her hand and lifted it to his lips. His eyes sparkled down at her with studied intimacy as he kissed her fingers before letting his lips caress the palm of her hand. 'I am totally bewitched,' he said softly.

  'My, my—Sally must let me have the secret of her success,' Chantrelle drawled with thinly veiled sarcasm. 'Philip is certainly besotted,' she revealed sweetly, her head to one side. 'But a hardened cynic such as you, Luke, I would have thought to be immune from the tactics of a pretty little blonde.'

  Sally writhed inwardly. If they weren't in her father's apartment and she wasn't responsible for dinner, she'd give voice to a few uncharitable remarks! Aloud, she said with seeming sweetness, 'Perhaps Luke wanted a trained chef, and decided to combine my talents in that direction with a wedding ring,' she suggested with mock-humour, darting a provocative glance upwards, and on meeting the warning evident in those dark eyes she reached up and touched his lips with a careless finger. 'Don't look so fierce, darling— I was only teasing.'

  'I'm sure Luke doesn't care whether you can cook or not,' Gavin intervened, and Sally warmed to him. At least he seemed to be an ally in this verbal war with Chantrelle.

  'If you'll excuse me, I shall see about serving dinner,' . she said aloud, and extricating her hand from Luke's clasp she made her escape.

  To say the evening was an unqualified success would have been an exaggeration, for even the most undiscerning person would have been aware of the undercurrent of dislike Chantrelle directed towards Sally.

  It was all Sally could do to retain a sense of politeness, and when they had all vacated the dining-room for the lounge she breathed a sigh of relief. At least now she was no longer confined to the table, and she could circulate among the guests.

  'You really can cook. That was a fantastic meal.'

  Sally turned to see Gavin Sanderson at her side, and she gave an appreciative smile. 'Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it.'

  'I gather you've only recently married?'

  He was quite charming—and much too nice for Chantrelle! 'A few weeks—two, to be exact.'

  'Lucky Luke,' he said lightly. 'If you weren't married, I'd ask you for a date. I don't suppose—no,' he shook his head, smiling slightly, and she gave an answering smile.

  'You're right, I wouldn't,' she said quietly. 'Have you known Chantrelle long?'

  'Long enough. Does that answer your question?'

  It did, in more ways than one, Sally perceived. Her eyes glided idly round the room and lighted on Luke having what appeared to be a serious conversation with her father. She watched as Chantrelle joined the two men, then moments later Charles Bakersfield interrupted them and drew Joe Ballinger to one side. Her heart did a series of somersaults as Chantrelle placed her hand on Luke's arm, and the little green monster rose unbidden to the fore. How dare she! Twin flags of colour lit Sally's cheeks, and the blue of her eyes became intensified as she caught the intimate smile Chantrelle directed up at Luke.

  All of a sudden she became aware of Gavin's voice, and she said distractedly, 'I'm sorry—what did you say?'

  'I vote for breaking up that twosome,' Gavin declared musingly, offering her his arm. 'Shall we?'

  Sally accorded him a wicked grin. 'Definitely!'

  It was impossible to determine much from Luke's expression—he could have been bored, or enthralled. His eyes seemed to assume a quizzical gleam as she reached him, and one arm lifted to settle round her shoulders, drawing her close to his side.

  It seemed perfectly natural to stand here like this, Sally thought silently. There was a warmth, a feeling of belonging she had not hitherto experienced—almost as if this large
-framed man was a part of her, linked by destiny. Strange, she mused, I should hate him— in fact, I thought I did. But now——

  'Do you intend coming back from wherever you have been for the past few minutes?' a voice teased close to her ear, and she lifted eyes bright with confusion to meet Luke's faintly amused expression. She coloured slightly at Gavin's open smile—Chantrelle's expression defied description!

  'I'm sorry.' She attempted a shaky laugh, and glanced up at Luke. 'I was miles away.'

  'Sally,' Joe Ballinger interrupted, 'there's a call for you from New York. You'd better take it in my study.'

  New York! 'Mother?' she queried in disbelief. 'Emily?'

  'The very same,' her father confirmed dryly. 'I've already spoken to her, and now it's your turn.'

  Good grief! Her mother always did have a zany sense of timing!

  'Off you go. I'll send Luke in for moral support in about five minutes.' His eyes twinkled wickedly down at his daughter, and she gave him a sheepish grin.

  'The inestimable Emily Breckenridge-Browning. Wish me luck!'

  The line was remarkably clear. Emily could have been in the same room. Sally clutched the receiver and tried not to smile, as after an initial greeting her mother came straight to the point

  'What is all this nonsense in your letter about being married?'

  'Nonsense, Mother?'

  'Who is he, this man? Andretti—that's Italian, isn't it? What, Sally, are you doing married to an Italian?' Emily's voice rose incredulously, and Sally hid a grin.

  'Daddy approves of him,' she said mildly.

  'Your father never did have any sense!' Emily discounted. 'Why wasn't I informed? I am your mother, after all. And why such a hurried affair? You're not——?' the unspoken query hung suspended in the air.

  'Pregnant? It's possible, but not probable,' Sally answered impishly.

  'I suppose he's some pauperish immigrant. I shan't rest until I've seen what you've got yourself into,' Emily's voice wailed. 'You've certainly inherited your father's instincts—you never did take after me. Is he?'

  'Is he—what, Mother?' She looked up as Luke came into the study, and she gave him a wry smile.

  'Sally! Aren't you listening to me at all? Is this— man—an immigrant? Has he any money?'

  'Yes, to both questions.'

  'Is he there with you? Is that why you're being evasive?'

  Sally covered the mouthpiece, and her eyes positively sparkled. 'I think it's time you met your mother- in-law—long-distance.' She beckoned Luke forward, while into the receiver she said brightly, 'Mother, Luke is standing beside me. Would you like to speak to him?'

  'I presume he speaks English—oh drat, Sally, I probably won't understand a word he says!'

  Sally handed Luke the receiver mutely, her eyes alight with ill-concealed mirth.

  If was all of five minutes before she took the receiver again. 'Mother? Daddy's giving a party right now—we should go. Besides, this call must be costing you a fortune.'

  'What's money?' Emily queried blithely. 'I've decided I must see you, Sally. I'm not at all satisfied you haven't made some ghastly mistake. Your Luke sounds, all right,' she conceded conservatively. 'However, voices can be deceiving. I shall catch the first avail-able flight after New Year's Day. I trust there's a spare bedroom somewhere that I can have?'

  Oh dear, this would never do at all! 'Mother——'

  'Goodbye, darling,' Emily intervened smoothly. 'Go back to your party. Merry Christmas.'

  The line went dead, and Sally slowly replaced the receiver. Her expression was a study of emotions as she looked across at Luke. 'Having spoken to Mother, you will soon experience the added pleasure of meeting her. She intends visiting us,' she concluded wryly.

  'Your mother will, of course, be our guest,' Luke stated, and she chuckled as she cast sparkling eyes in his direction.

  'I'm afraid you're going to be investigated to the nth degree. Will you mind?'

  He gave a negligent shrug. 'It sounds very much as if I have little say in the matter.' He took hold of her arm and began leading her towards the door. 'Shall we return to your father's guests?'

  Sally felt almost regretful at having to go back into the lounge, and on glancing up at Luke's rugged profile her eyes, lingered on his mouth. It was quite crazy, but for a moment she wanted to have those firm lips touch hers. In mesmerised fascination she came to a halt.

  'Are you pleading with me, mia?'

  His softy-voiced query startled her, and she burst into confused speech. 'I—no, of course not.'

  'A pity,' he accorded with a quizzical gleam, and Sally put a hand up to her hair in a purely nervous gesture.

  'I must make some coffee. It's almost eleven o'clock.'

  'I shall allow you to get away with it this time— however, later you will not escape so easily. If you remember, we have a score to settle.'

  'You—wouldn't dare,' she choked in disbelief, 'lay a hand on me——'

  'I do not make idle threats, piccina—you should know that. Now, let us go back to the lounge.'

  'I hate you!' she flung in a helpless whisper, and his cynical laugh only served to infuriate her.

  'Not all of the time,' he mocked softly.

  If anyone noticed anything amiss it would have been remarkable, Sally decided wryly, for Luke didn't move far from her side during the ensuing hour and a half, and he played the role of adoring husband to the hilt. Everyone, including her father, could not have doubted they were a loving couple. Chantrelle, who deserved top honours for trying, didn't get so much as a chance to inveigle Luke into more than the briefest of conversations, and he was at his most urbane. His arm shifted from around Sally's waist to rest lightly about her shoulders, then he caught hold of her hand and rubbed his thumb gently against the throbbing pulse at her wrist. She smiled, even laughed on occasion, and managed to make sophisticated conversation, but beneath it all she was seething with silent anger, and longed for the moment when they could leave.

  At last there was a general exodus, and when the door closed on the last guest, Joe turned to Sally with an affectionate smile. 'We must endeavour not to let too much time go by before we get together again. Thank you, Sally, for a delectable dinner, and Luke, for allowing her to prepare it.' He waved a hand towards the tray of drinks. 'You'll join me in a nightcap? I have a bottle of Courvoisier cognac I've been saving for just such an occasion.'

  'Thank you, Joe. Just a small one, then we must be on our way.' Luke wandered with leisurely strides across the room, drawing Sally along at his side, and she accepted a small quantity of cognac.

  'Merry Christmas, Daddy,' she bade, raising her glass. 'And many more of them,' she added gently.

  Joe acknowledged her words with a smile. 'I take it you weren't able to dissuade Emily from crossing the Atlantic?'

  'Not a chance! She's due to descend immediately after New Year.'

  'I think,' her father twinkled unrepentantly, 'that I shall have urgent business in another State. After the initial confrontation, Luke may very well decide to join me.'

  Sally gave a cry of mock-anguish. 'Don't you dare desert me! I shall be needing all the moral support I can get.'

  'We have something like ten days in which to prepare some kind of strategy,' Joe murmured thoughtfully. 'When do you arrive back from Surfers' Paradise?'

  'Tuesday week,' Luke affirmed. 'And, unless I am mistaken, I have to fly to Adelaide the following day.' He glanced down at Sally. 'How long is your mother likely to stay?'

  'With us? A few days—a week, maybe,' she. ventured. 'It's difficult to say. Emily has two sisters she'll want to visit while she's here, but they're in such far- flung places as Perth and Darwin.'

  'In that case, it would be feasible for her to visit us first, then return for a few days before flying back to America,' he drawled.

  Joe began to chuckle, and then finally burst into laughter. 'My dear ex-wife will undoubtedly do the unexpected. I learnt many years ago never to plan anything while E
mily is anywhere in the vicinity.'

  Luke drained the last of his cognac and replaced the glass. The glance he cast down at Sally held a certain warmth. 'Come, piccina, it is time we left.'

  Oh, that mocking endearment was maddening! She decided to teach him a lesson, and standing on tiptoe she brushed her lips against his chin. 'Don't be in such a hurry, darling.' She gave the last word deliberate emphasis, and his husky laugh did little to help her composure.

  'Amante,' he drawled, 'I am not in the least embarrassed at hurrying you home.'

  A tide of colour flooded her cheeks, and even her father, whom she considered a faithful ally, deserted her in a moment of need.

  'Away with you! I haven't forgotten what it's like to be newly married and in love.' Joe chuckled, and Sally could feel the laughter shake his chest as he hugged her close. 'Merry Christmas, honey. Take care!' .

  Sally stood in hostile silence as the elevator made its swift descent, and in the car she refused to look anywhere but at the road ahead.

  'Are you not going to speak at all?' Luke queried musingly, and she was goaded into retorting,

  'You're impossible! In fact, aside from Emily, whom I dearly love, you're the most impossible person I know!'

  'And I, of course, am not fortunate enough to be loved.' His amusement was the very limit, and as soon as the car came to a standstill in tile garage, Sally made haste to put as much distance as possible between them. Whatever was gained soon became lost as she was forced to wait until he unlocked the side door into the house, and then she wasn't permitted to escape. Her arm was grasped by hard fingers that tightened their grip painfully as she wrenched away, and she had little option but to climb the two flights of stairs at his side.

  In the bedroom he set her free, and she stood facing him, infuriated beyond measure. 'Did you have to be so—frank, in front of my father? Have you no decency at all?' Her voice rose to a scandalised crescendo, and she stamped her foot in sheer frustration as a deep chuckle emerged from his throat. 'I know firsthand what a—a lusty—animal you are,' she breathed furiously, 'but do you have to make it so blatantly obvious?'