Darling Deceiver

by Daphne Clair

  He didn't let go of her hand but stood looking down at the ring with a bitter twist to his mouth. 'My mother's wedding ring,' he said, with a harsh inflection. Then he laughed in a way that chilled her.

  She pulled her hand from his grasp urgently, and made to remove the ring, saying, 'I can't wear this!'

  He leaned down and clamped her wrists with his strong hands. 'Why not?'

  'How can you ask that?' she said angrily. 'I'm not your wife—it's a farce for me to wear your mother's ring. And it's loose on me. Supposing I lost it?'

  He shrugged and straightened. 'It wouldn't matter. The ring has no sentimental Value for me whatsoever.'

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CARISSA wore the ring, hating it, and always 'nervous in case it slipped from her finger, until she wound some thread about it at one side and made it feel safer.

  She got up early in the mornings and made breakfast for them both before Cade came down, and after three days they had established a sort of routine. They strolled in the extensive grounds or by the lake, or along the road a couple of times each day, and in the afternoons they swam together and sunbathed on the narrow private strip of sand in front of the lodge. Sometimes Cade put his arm about her shoulders or waist, and once or twice she had stiffly reciprocated, for the sake of appearances in case anyone was watching.

  Their conversations were polite and almost formal, and although he called her `Carissa with the caressive inflection that never failed to disturb her senses, she seldom used his name if she could help it.

  And there was an undercurrent of tension in the air that had little to do with the threat of danger that was their reason for being here. It grew from their relationship and the fact that they were alone and together so much of the time. She tried to forget that dangerous interlude by the lake, and Cade never referred to it, but it lay between them inevitably like an explosive device that needed to be tiptoed round to prevent a disaster of some sort. She should have been grateful that Cade seemed to be trying as hard as she was to forget it, that he never touched her except when there might be witnesses, and had not attempted again to kiss her at all.

  Stan and Pat reported there seemed to be nothing to worry about—the Americans they had mentioned

  turned out to have been here before, and no one seemed to be taking any particular interest in the lodge. When Cade mentioned he thought he'd like a bush walk, Pat said he'd be about, but go ahead, he doubted there was any risk. It was pretty difficult to reach the lodge or the bush behind it except from the road-or the lake, and the but commanded a good view of both. They should be perfectly safe.

  Carissa showed Cade a map with the walking tracks marked. One started by the lodge grounds and came out at the main road, near the entrance to a public walkway leading to the summit of one of the many bush-covered peaks near the lake.

  'How long would it take to go all the way?' Cade asked.

  'About three hours. We'd have to leave straight after lunch, if you want to do that walk.'

  'Can you manage it?'

  'Of course. I've done it several times.'

  'We'll let Pat and Stan know where we're going then.'

  The two men met them on the road as they emerged from the first narrow track after the first half hour. They were dressed for tramping, and Stan forged ahead of, them while Pat lagged discreetly in the rear.

  Caed said nothing, but Carissa sensed a frustration and annoyance about him as they traversed the uneven path, their footfalls deadened by the accumulated leaves from the overhanging bush trees.

  She heard a distinctive bird call and stopped, looking about the trees nearby for the source.

  Cade followed suit, and she said softly, 'Have you seen a tui? There—' She pointed to the black shape with its curved beak and white neck ruff, high on the branch of a puriri, and they stood close together as its muted flute-call echoed again through the bush, followed by a series of odd, throaty sounds and then the two-note flute call again.

  When the bird left his perch with a whirr of wings and disappeared among the moving green umbrella of leaves overhead, Carissa turned to move on, blundering unexpectedly into a low-hanging frond of a black trunked punga fern, automatically recoiling as it touched her face.

  Cade was behind her, and as she backed into his hard chest, his arm came round her waist, steadying her.

  She said, 'Oh, sorry,' and tried to move out of his hold, but instead of releasing her, he turned her to face him and pulled her close as he kissed her, gently and without haste, and she responded as naturally as breathing, without thought of denial.

  When he stopped abruptly and raised his head she was momentarily disorientated, the world still spinning about her head. Then he moved, frowning and muttering something forceful under his breath as he put several inches between them, and Stan appeared around a bend in the track.

  There was no one else at the summit when they reached it but Pat, and the four of them rested there, admiring the views of bush and water and eating sandwiches washed down with coffee from the light packs that they carried.

  Then the two men left Cade 'and Carissa and promised to reconnoitre the track on the way back.

  Cade leaned back against a nearby tree trunk, draping an arm casually across raised knees. Carissa finished replacing the thermos in the pack and, conscious that he was watching her with lazy pleasure in his eyes, sat leaning on one hand with her feet drawn up beside her, trying to concentrate on the. view.

  A faint breeze lifted her hair and stirred the collar of the soft knit blouse she wore with her jeans. Bird calls and the soft stirrings of leaves in the wind were the only sounds, and the lake glittered peacefully in the dis-

  tame. They sat in silent companionship, the tensions of the last few days melted away by sun and exercise and the apparent infinity of the quiet bush.

  Then Cade said softly, 'Come here,' and her nerves tightened as she willed herself not to respond. That one kiss on the track had been crazy but sweet, and she couldn't bring herself to regret it. But she would be mad to invite a repetition. Cade was bored with his enforced inaction and hoping to while away some time with a little lovemaking—and in a few days he would walk out of her life again and forget her as completely as he had before.

  Carissa?' he insisted.

  s To ignore him would constitute another challenge to his masculinity. Reluctantly, she sighed faintly and stirred, starting to rise. 'We'd better go,' she said. 'The angels will be worried about you.'

  He shot out a hand and captured her wrist, pulling her off balance against him, and held her so that she lay against his chest, his raised thigh against her back.

  'Don't!' she protested.

  He examined her face critically. 'You didn't say "don't!" when I kissed you before he reminded her. Trying to keep her voice even, she said, 'That was

  'A woman's privilege?'

  'Yes. I changed my mind.

  Perhaps I can change it again.'

  She turned her face so that he couldn't reach her mouth, but he kissed her cheek and her throat and gently nibbled the lobe of her ear until she could stand the gentle torture no longer. With a great effort of will, she muttered between clenched teeth, 'Stop it; Cade!'

  'Why stop it?' he asked, his voice dark with desire. 'I don't want to stop it. And you ?' He suddenly moved his hand and captured her chin, bringing her to

  face him, and his eyes challenged hers, fully aware of the emotion he had aroused. 'Kiss me, Carissa,' he said, the words feathering her mouth. 'You want to. I can see it in your eyes.'

  'No—' but even as she whispered the denial, her mouth parted under the demand of his, and he gathered her closer to him, then laid her down on the leaf-covered ground, one arm supporting her shoulders and head, and the other hand gently but insistently exploring the softness of her breast.

  She couldn't think—she didn't want to think. She wanted only to give in -to this blind tide of shivering ecstasy that was sweeping her away under the touch of his lips and his hands
as they caressed, explored, insisted on knowing her in the age-old sense, on discovering the responses that her body could not help but make.

  His mouth was against the base of her throat and he whispered a word—a phrase—in Spanish, waking long-denied memories of another time, another place. She didn't know what the words meant, only that they were love-words and that she had heard them before—when they ,had meant nothing.

  As they meant nothing now.

  Cade was leaning on his elbow, lifting himself away a little wkile he found the buttons of her blouse—and she rolled away from him suddenly and stood up, choking out her rejection. 'No! I don't want you, Cade. I can't—' And as he got to his feet and came for her, eyes glittering and his hand reaching for her, she almost screamed, 'No! Leave me alone!'

  His breathing was audible, and his mouth suddenly cruel. 'Yes, you're very good at changing your mind, aren't you? But you're a liar, Carissa. You want me. You think I can't tell? Even a blind man knows when a woman wants him, if he knows anything about women at all.'

  `And you know plenty !' she flashed. 'You've had so many women, haven't you?'

  He looked suddenly wary. 'A few.'

  She laughed derisively. 'That must be the understatement of the year!'

  Sharply he said, 'What's that supposed to mean?' Carissa shrugged and turned away, wishing she had kept quiet.

  His hands dragged her round again to face him, his dark eyes blazing into hers. 'Are you jealous because there've been other women in my life?'

  Desperate to cover up, she said, 'Don't be ridiculous. It doesn't matter in the slightest to me what you do with your life or how many women you have. I'm just-telling you that I won't be one of them, that's all.'

  'Ten minutes ago I wouldn't have taken a bet on that.'

  `You're an attractive man,' she admitted huskily. 'I got a little—a little carried away. I didn't mean it.'

  'Is it Morris?' he asked.

  'What?'

  He dropped his hands from her shoulders and said, 'You're Morris's girl, aren't you? He should have told me straight out, instead of beating about the bush.'

  Feeling her way, she said, 'Did he beat about the bush?'

  'Some. I gathered I was being tactfully told it was hands off as far as you were concerned, but he didn't explain why. I only began to get the picture in the car on the way to the lodge '

  As noncommittally as possible, she said, 'I see.' She didn't see at all, but it seemed safer to pretend she did. She didn't remember saying anything which could have meant that she and Morris were more than boss and employee.

  But if Cade thought they were, perhaps she should let him go on thinking it. It was probably the wisest

  thing to do. Only the thought didn't make her feel any better.

  There was no sign of the angels on the road, but when they emerged from the last part of the track near the lake Stan was waiting for them. 'Everything's quiet here,' he said. 'Pat checked the road, and there's nothing to worry about.'

  Cade thanked him and he went off in the direction of the road.

  They let themselves into the house and Carissa went upstairs and treated herself to a hot shower and a change of clothing. She put on a light Indian cotton caftan with embroidered sleeves and neckline, and left her hair loose after brushing it until it gleamed. Then she went to the kitchen and cooked a couple of pieces of thick steak and made a salad, and an apple charlotte to be served with ice cream.

  Cade came down as it was almost ready. He had showered too, and his hair was still faintly damp. He was wearing dark trousers and a close-fitting knit shirt in a cream colour that showed up his tanned skin and made him look achingly handsome.,

  Carissa -was surprised at her own hunger when she sat down to eat, and Cade seemed to appreciate her cooling. He had opened a bottle of wine from Morris's cupboard, and it went well with the steak. Carissa thought it a good idea, helping to relax them both after the rather strained atmosphere that had prevailed since their ascent of the hill.

  He insisted on helping her with the dishes, saying she must be tired after their long walk, but afterwards he suggested a short stroll along the lake. 'A gentle stroll,' he emphasised. 'Just along the sand.'

  It was dusk, and she hesitated, but the house felt stuffy and hot, and a stroll in the fresh air would round the day off very nicely.

  'All right,' she agreed. 'That sounds nice.'

  The sand was cool in the evening, and there was ma wind stirring the waves. The surface of the lake was still and smooth, glossed by the fading light of the sunset.

  He took her hand in a firm clasp, and after an experimental attempt to tug it free, which he totally ignored, she let it stay there, gradually relaxing as he made no attempt to draw her closer to him.

  'I enjoyed that walk,' he said. 'I don't do enough of that sort of thing.'

  `You wouldn't have had much chance before—' `Before I got my sight back—no. It wasn't nearly so

  much of a pleasure when I had to hang on to someone's

  arm all the time. And couldn't see what they saw.' `It must have changed your life,' she said softly. 'Of course.'

  `I'm sorry, that was an inane remark—'

  `Don't keep saying you're sorry,' he said, stopping to grasp her shoulders in his hands. 'And it wasn't inane. It was true.'

  She shivered a little at the touch of his hands, and he asked, 'Are you cold?'

  'Not really.' She moved, and his hands dropped. Walking on, she asked, 'Did you find the world very different, after the operation?'

  'Same things, yes. I don't give live performances any more, you know—at least, not often.'

  'Why not?'

  `Because it isn't the same, now that I can see the audience. Before, I could sense them—feel them out there. But I couldn't see them. I find I preferred it when I couldn't see them.'

  'Do they—make you nervous?'

  He looked at her in the gathering darkness and said, `No—it's something I can't describe. The magic is gone.' His gaze turned to the sky, where tiny points of light began to dance in the darkening haze. 'Well,' he

  shrugged, 'I'm concentrating more on recordings and composing now. That's one reason I could afford to come here for a while. No engagements in the offing for the next month or two.'

  'You could have cancelled.'

  `No. I would never have done that.'

  She believed him. 'You must be glad—doubly so—that you're no longer blind, with this thing happening. You would have hated feeling vulnerable to an unseen enemy, wouldn't you?'

  Cade glanced at her without saying anything, but she caught an odd, grim smile on his face, and said, 'You would really rather be out there fighting, wouldn't you, instead of staying here in relative safety?'

  `Yes, I would. Does it show?'

  'All the time. What happened in Melbourne? Morris said you were attacked.'

  'They made a mistake. They sent a hit man with a knife. He ended up in hospital.'

  'They?'

  'A minor brotherhood.'

  Shock held her rigid for a moment. 'You mean—like the Mafia?'

  'In a small way, yes. I believe so.'

  'But why? What had you done to them?'

  `Nothing. There's a man who thinks he has a grudge against me. They wanted him in their organisation, and I think the price of having him was that they should eliminate me.'

  ' 'That's incredible!'

  'It's guess work, mainly. But I think it's what's happening.'

  'Did you have bodyguards in Melbourne?' she asked.

  'No. I didn't think they'd follow me there. The police back home were working on a hot lead, and I thought they'd have it sewn up by the time we finished in Australia.'

  `Then how come the—the knife man ended up in hospital?'

  Even in the darkness she could see the grim enjoyment of his smile. 'When I was fifteen I was, running with a gang in New York. I've fought knives before, and old habits die hard. He thought I was an easy target. Over-confidence is the
hit man's worst fault. I broke his jaw—among other things.'

  Feeling slightly sick, she said shakily, 'You enjoyed it.'

  He turned on her, his bulk almost menacing in the dark, and said roughly, `No, I didn't enjoy it. But I'm damned glad I'm alive and he's out,of action for a good long while—maybe he'll never wield a knife again. And I'm glad of that, too. Is that unnatural? Does it make me a monster?'

  `No.' She almost whispered it trying to see his face, his eyes. 'No, it doesn't. I'm so—'

  She never finished the apology on her lips, because his hand suddenly came up under her chin and he tipped her head back and kissed her,, hard.

  He wasn't touching her in any other way, and it didn't occur to her to try and stop him. Not until he lifted his mouth from hers did she realise that her neck was aching.

  His hand slipped to her shoulder and his other hand slid into her hair as he tipped her head again. 'The hell with Morris,' he said thickly, and kissed her again.

  If she had been capable of speaking then, she might have echoed him. Not only Morris but the whole world seemed supremely unimportant compared with the intoxication of Cade's mouth on hers, his hands moulding her shoulders, then sliding down her back to press her closer to the urgency of his body, finding the feminine curves and hollows of hers.

  His heart beat heavily against the palm of her right hand, and she slipped the left one up to his shoulder

  and then into his hair, letting him know that she wanted him to go on kissing her that way,. parting her lips hungrily with his, making her answer his every sensuous demand.

  He had gathered her so closely that her body was curved against him off balance, her toes barely touching the sand, and she felt him swing her slightly sideways as though he meant to lower her to the ground, - when a sudden blinding beam of light struck them.

  `What the hell—! Cade muttered, and abruptly thrust her away, so that Carissa staggered before righting herself. He had started forward when the torch beam swung back to reveal Stan's face briefly before the man switched it 'off.