The Tempestuous Flame

by Carole Mortimer

  The two men were in the lounge when she came downstairs, both of them standing up politely as she entered the room. Brian looked very smart, in a navy blazer, a lighter blue shirt, combined with grey trousers, but it was André who made the most impression on her senses. His black shirt was opened down to the waist, showing his deeply tanned chest and the dark hairs growing there, and Caroline looked hurriedly away again as she saw him watching her reaction to him. And he had his shoes off again! Didn’t he ever bother with manners? He had known Brian was coming here tonight, he could at least have made an effort to look presentable.

  She glared at him resentfully before smiling at Brian. ‘I hope I haven’t kept you waiting,’ she said softly.

  He returned her smile. ‘Not at all. And even if you had I believe you would have been worth waiting for. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr Gregory?’

  ‘André, please. I think Caro’s worth waiting for at any time,’ he answered smoothly.

  Brian frowned his puzzlement. ‘Caro?’ he questioned.

  André shrugged. ‘Just my name for her.’

  ‘Oh. I—I see,’ he turned to look at her. ‘Well, if you’re ready to leave…’

  Caroline held herself aloof, resenting André’s implied intimacy between the two of them. ‘I’m ready,’ she told him between gritted teeth.

  André came to stand behind her as she gathered up her handbag. ‘Have fun, children,’ he murmured for her ears alone. ‘And don’t do anything I wouldn’t, Caro.’

  She turned angrily to face him. ‘That means I can do just about anything!’ she retorted hotly.

  He nodded. ‘Just about. Would you like me to wait up for you?’ he taunted.

  ‘Get lost!’ she muttered. ‘Daddykins!’ she added bitchily.

  ‘But not yours, and certainly not your sugar-daddy.’

  ‘Do you always have to have the last word?’

  ‘With you—yes.’

  ‘Oh, go away!’

  ‘I’ll wait up for you—just to make sure you get home all right. You never know, he may turn violent.’

  She glanced hurriedly at Brian, conscious of his puzzled looks in their direction. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! And don’t bother waiting up for me—I may be late, very late.’

  ‘I’ll wait anyway,’ came the quiet reply.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CAROLINE’S anger lasted all the way to the inn, when she finally realised she wasn’t being fair to Brian. It wasn’t his fault André kept annoying her.

  ‘It’s pleasant here, isn’t it?’ she remarked as they sat down at a table in the corner of the room. Small red lamps shone on each individual table, allowing the occupants a clear vision of their companions only, and leaving the rest of the room in shadow.

  ‘Very pleasant,’ he agreed readily. ‘But not exactly what you’re used to, I should imagine.’

  ‘Sorry?’ she frowned her puzzlement.

  ‘You live in London, don’t you?’ he said jerkily. ‘We aren’t exactly up to that standard.’

  ‘Are you annoyed about something, Brian?’ she guessed shrewdly.

  He moved nervously. ‘Well, I—I didn’t like that man’s familiarity!’ he said in a rush. ‘You both say there’s nothing between the two of you and yet he—he—well, he seems possessive of you.’

  Caroline looked astounded. ‘I’m sure you’re wrong, Brian. I’ve only known him a couple of days, and we don’t exactly get on together.’

  ‘That wasn’t the impression he gave me.’

  Her look sharpened. ‘Did he say something to you?’

  ‘He implied that you’ve had some sort of lover’s tiff,’ he told her stiffly.

  ‘I’m sure you’re wrong,’ she shook her head dazedly. ‘You must have misunderstood him—André wouldn’t say something like that, there’s no foundation for it.’

  ‘Well, if you say so,’ he accepted reluctantly. ‘Let’s order our meal, shall we?’

  Caroline was eager to comply, wanting desperately to put all thought of that hateful man completely out of her mind for the rest of the evening. She wanted to put an end to this charade, tell him exactly who she was and watch him squirm. But he hadn’t gone far enough yet, hadn’t made enough disparaging remarks about ‘Cynthia’ Rayner. But when the time came she would make him pay for every slight against her, every little insult and insinuation. Then they would see who was so damned sure of themselves!

  Brian turned out to be just as good a companion as she had imagined, and the evening passed quickly in relaxing enjoyment. Her mixed grill was perfect and the wine chilled as she liked it.

  The two of them sat in the lounge-bar later in the evening the cheery fire adding extra warmth to the centrally heated room. Caroline sat back with a sigh. She hadn’t realised how tense she had become in the past few days, and it was nice to be with someone she could just relax with.

  ‘I’ve enjoyed myself this evening,’ she smiled her pleasure.

  Brian smiled back bashfully. ‘So have I. We must do it again some time.’

  Caroline frowned. ‘I’m not really sure how much longer I shall be staying at the cottage.’

  ‘I suppose Mr Gregory’s presence there rather limits your activities,’ he suggested.

  ‘Not really,’ she pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘I hadn’t actually intended staying this long when I came down here. Now my plans are undecided. I’m just living from day to day. I enjoy being here.’

  ‘I believe I may have seen you about these parts before, now I come to think about it. I was working up on one of the top fields during the summer, August I think it was, and I’m sure I saw you with Mr Rayner, travelling in a blue sports car.’

  ‘I suppose it could have been me.’ She was reluctant to reveal too much—Brian might put two and two together, and being unbiased, unlike André Gregory, he just might come up with the right answer. ‘I do have a sports car, and I was here during the summer.’

  ‘I know it was definitely Mr Rayner,’ Brian continued. ‘I’ve met him a couple of times.’

  ‘It was probably me with him, then,’ she admitted. ‘Do you come to this restaurant often?’ she asked, anxious to change the subject.

  Their conversation became more general after this, and the time passed so swiftly that Caroline looked at her watch in surprise when they rang the bell for closing time. Brian had been an undemanding companion, shyly revealing a little of his background and the hard work that was finally beginning to pay off. Ten years of pure hard work had gone into making him the moderately successful farmer he was today, but he sounded as if it had all been worth it.

  ‘It’s a hard life for a woman,’ he remarked on the journey back to her cottage. ‘I’ll never know how Eve always manages to look so cool and composed.’

  It was something that Caroline had wondered about too. The woman’s perfectly groomed appearance earlier today seemed to be a daily thing rather than a chance occurrence. She felt sure that in similar circumstances, caring for a young child and a farmhouse, besides the farmer, she would not appear so immaculate. ‘She must enjoy it.’

  ‘Up to a point. But she’s still young and there aren’t too many eligible men for her to meet around here.’

  Caroline felt like pointing out that she had just met one in André, a very eligible male at that, although she couldn’t imagine Brian being too pleased about having André as a brother-in-law. But then she couldn’t imagine him married; ‘love them and leave them’ appeared to be his motto.

  ‘She seemed happy enough,’ she pointed out.

  ‘Oh, she is, don’t get me wrong, but it’s mainly because living here makes Debbie happy.’ He turned to look at her in the darkness of the car. ‘Will you come out with me again?’

  ‘I would love to.’ She hadn’t missed the bright light still shining in the sitting-room of the cottage. If André had dared to wait up for her—!

  ‘Tomorrow?’ he persisted.

  ‘Well—maybe not tomorrow.’ She liked him, but not enough for him to wa
nt to think seriously about her. ‘Perhaps the day after?’

  ‘Fine. We could go out for a drink somewhere.’

  ‘Right,’ she agreed. ‘Call me, hmm?’

  By the time she entered the cottage a few minutes later she was furiously angry. She burst into the sitting-room, her eyes going straight to André as he stood by the curtained window. She threw her handbag down into one of the chairs. ‘Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  He raised a mocking eyebrow at her outburst, holding up the half empty glass in his hand. ‘Helping myself to Matt’s whisky. I would have thought it was obvious.’

  ‘Don’t be patronising!’ she snapped. ‘You were spying on me,’ she accused.

  André moved forward into the room. ‘Watching to see if there were any fond farewells, you mean? Do I look like a voyeur?’

  ‘I didn’t mean—’

  ‘The chaste little kisses you can be expected to share with Brian Wells can hardly be called good viewing,’ he taunted, throwing back his head and tipping a liberal amount of the fluid to the back of his throat.

  ‘Why should they be expected to be chaste little kisses?’ she demanded indignantly.

  He shrugged. ‘What else could they be? Brian Wells is what’s known as a “nice” man. He wouldn’t take advantage of your generous nature. Besides, Caro, he isn’t half man enough for you.’

  ‘And I suppose you are?’ she scoffed.

  ‘Oh, assuredly. I could handle you quite easily. But I’m not going to.’

  ‘You won’t get the chance!’

  ‘Second chance, you mean.’

  ‘Second—? Oh!’ she blushed. ‘You’re disgusting!’

  André put the glass down on the table, flexing his shoulder muscles. ‘You’re quite exciting when you’re angry, Caro. In fact, very exciting.’

  She visibly moved away from the darkening sensuality in his eyes. ‘Leave me alone,’ she ordered. ‘Not content with—with spying on me out of the window—oh no, you now decide that you have to prove how strong, how virile you are!’

  André didn’t appear at all concerned by her tirade, in fact, by the throaty chuckle he was giving she would say he was very amused, at her expense. ‘I don’t have to prove anything, Caro. You seem to be the one who has to prove something. What’s the matter? Is Matt cooling in his attentions?’

  ‘Will you stop these stupid accusations about—about my—about Mr Rayner!’ She inwardly groaned, wishing now that she could stop this farce, explain to him just who she was. But a lingering desire for revenge forced her to remain silent, holding out for the ultimate effect on this mocking, taunting, arrogant man. ‘They’re completely untrue.’

  ‘You think so?’ he shrugged, picking up the burgundy-coloured leather jerkin that lay across the table. ‘Well, if you like to delude yourself into thinking that everything between you and Matt is innocently romantic, who am I to argue with you? I suppose this way you can excuse your behaviour to your friend.’ There was a definite sneer to his voice now, and what had started out as just barbed teasing was fast becoming another slanging match.

  ‘My behaviour doesn’t need excusing, but yours could use some looking at,’ she said crossly.

  ‘Surely your friend doesn’t approve of you having an affair with her father? There can’t be much difference in your ages,’ he added with disgust.

  ‘There isn’t any! And as our only polite source of conversation has been removed in Susi, I think I’ll go to bed before you insult me any more!’ She turned on her heel.

  ‘You do that,’ came the quiet taunt from close behind her. ‘I think I’ll join you.’

  ‘You most certainly will not!’ She turned on him angrily. ‘Just what do you take me for!’

  ‘I haven’t worked out yet what category you fit into,’ he admitted with a grin. ‘But give me time, I will. And when I said I was going to bed too, I didn’t mean yours.’

  ‘Oh,’ Caroline blushed at her mistake. ‘I see.’

  He passed her to take the stairs two at a time. ‘You have a very inflated opinion of your effect on men,’ he said shortly. ‘And while I admit you’re very beautiful, that doesn’t mean that every man you meet wants to jump into bed with you. Now you can safely go off to bed without fearing I may rush into your bedroom in the middle of the night to slake my heated passions upon your body.’

  ‘Don’t talk to me as if I’m an imaginative child!’

  ‘Then don’t act like one.’ His eyes had darkened, this time with anger. ‘Goodnight!’ and he slammed his bedroom door behind him.

  ‘Goodnight—’

  * * *

  Her sketching wasn’t going well, even though this room was ideal for her purposes; once being a loft bedroom it now served very well as a studio. No, it wasn’t her surroundings that were obstructive to her work, it was her thoughts that held her back. Her mind wasn’t on what she was doing, but on André Gregory, and each time she began her preliminary sketches it was his face that looked back at her. She ripped out her latest effort, throwing it angrily on the floor with the other ten she had started this morning.

  Why did that man keep haunting her thoughts? It was partly because he was such a strong personality, she knew that. He had a way of making his presence felt without speaking a single word, which was how their breakfast had progressed this morning. She had pointedly ignored him, going out of her way to show him her displeasure, while he happily read the newspaper he had been out to collect.

  Now he had gone out again without a word to her, and she still couldn’t get him out of her mind. She looked down at her twelfth attempt, only to find that arrogant face staring back at her once again. She threw the pencil and pad down on the floor at her side, lying back on the couch with her feet on the arm at the other end.

  Where had he gone? Was he thinking of her as she couldn’t stop thinking of him? She doubted it. He was a mystery man, seemingly a prosperous business man, and yet she had never heard of him. Just who was André Gregory? And why had she never heard him mentioned by any of her friends, or by her father for that matter?

  She picked up her sketch pad, pursing her lips as she studied the firm lines of his face—very strong and compelling, with a strength of purpose that made him walk over everything that stood in his way. And she was in his way. He had come here wanting solitude, and yet she irritatingly refused to leave.

  A sudden thought occurred to her. Supposing he had attempted to make love to her the other evening as a way of getting her to leave? If she were really Matt’s girl-friend it was natural to assume she wouldn’t want to stay here with another man and perhaps evoke Matt’s anger. Unless of course she was after pastures greener, as André had suggested. And if she was as innocent as she insisted she was then she wouldn’t want to stay here with a man who made no secret of the fact that he had desired her, been prepared to take her to his bed if the telephone hadn’t interrupted them. Either way he had been more or less sure she would leave.

  But she hadn’t. She had the advantage over him of knowing that Matt was her father—not her lover, and that any time he pushed his attentions too far she could ask him to leave. She sighed. All this thought didn’t tell her where he was—or who he was with. She wasn’t even sure why she wanted to know.

  ‘Caro? Carol’

  She jumped up eagerly as she heard her name being called. André! A smile lit up her face and she felt extraordinarily happy for some reason. She opened the studio door. ‘Up here!’ she called.

  He entered the studio, looking about the room with interest. ‘Mm, not bad,’ he approved one of her earlier efforts that hung on the wall. ‘Cynthia did that one, I suppose?’ He sat on the arm of the couch looking at her.

  ‘No. I—I did that one.’ She had almost forgotten who Cynthia was supposed to be!

  André raised one dark eyebrow. ‘I see, allowed to hang your paintings here too. You’re like an extra member of the family, aren’t you? Why doesn’t Matt marry you if you’re that close?’
<
br />   ‘He’ll never marry me.’ She tried to snatch her sketch pad out of his hand, but failed miserably.

  For long seconds he continued to stare at the rough sketch of his dominant features. Finally he looked up. ‘This is very good.’ A certain amount of respect had entered his eyes. ‘Have you had proper lessons?’ he asked interestedly.

  ‘Only at finishing school. I’m not good enough for anything else.’

  He put down the pad. ‘Well, I admit that you’re never likely to make your living as a portrait painter, you’re too brutally honest for that. People tend not to see themselves as they really are, and they don’t want anyone to show it to them.’

  ‘Because I’ve managed to show your arrogance with a few lines on paper?’ she asked, stung into anger by his words.

  ‘Something like that,’ he agreed. ‘Not that your drawing of me bothers me one way or the other. It’s very good, you’ve caught me exactly.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. Did you want me for something?’ she queried sweetly.

  He moved the discarded sketches with his foot. ‘I’m going fishing. I wondered if you would like to come along for the fresh air.’ He bent to pick up a couple of the screwed-up pieces of paper, smoothing them out to look at them critically. ‘Mm, I think you kept the best one.’

  Caroline snatched the sketches out of his hand and ripped them in two. ‘I didn’t invite your interest.’ She turned away. ‘Surely you aren’t going fishing this time of year?’