Turbulent Covenant

by Jessica Steele

  `If you're thinking of changing—don't.' How well he could read her!

  `I can't sit around like this all evening,' she protested, though not as strongly as she knew she should.

  `Why not? You look—er—rather fetching.' A wicked grin appeared for a moment, then he went on seriously, `Stay as you are, Tiffany. To be honest with you I thought I might do likewise. Not the frills and fancies,' he was back to teasing her again. 'I was looking forward to a relaxing evening. You know, the slippers and pipe bit—not forgetting the roaring log fire.'

  Tiffany fell in with his mood. The atmosphere was being made deliberately light by him; no need for her to run panic-stricken, he was tired and all he had in mind was to relax. 'You don't smoke a pipe,' she challenged, 'and anyway, we haven't got a log fire.'

  They were both laughing when Ben said, 'You have no romance in your soul, young Tiffany.' But when he went with her into the sitting room and sat down with her on the settee saying he wasn't going until he had her word she wouldn't move, Tiffany ignored an inner voice that said she would be sorry, and agreed to stay put.

  She had a few anxious moments when after his shower he joined her in the sitting room, not in slacks and sweater as she had supposed, but darkly handsome dressed in pyjamas and a dressing gown.

  `I'll make some coffee,' she said, jumping up as he sat down in an armchair to the side of the settee.

  There were at least two hours to be got through before she could go to bed without Ben thinking she was being churlish. How on earth was she going to get through them? she wondered, as she plugged in the percolator. Every time she looked at him she wanted to throw herself into his arms.

  She dropped a spoon as a sound nearby told her he was coming to join her in the kitchen, but found she had no

  cause for alarm, for when he joined her, he was matter-of-fact, getting the cups down for her and telling her about the flight he had just finished, adding that his car had started playing up on the way home so he had left it at a garage and had come the rest of the way by taxi. As the coffee began to perk, Tiffany found to her surprise that she was feeling quite relaxed with him, even to the extent of telling him her flight plans and being able to ask him when he was next on duty.

  `All being well, Tuesday, but like yourself, I'm on standby. Let's hope no one else goes down with 'flu.'

  Ben was determined to keep the air free from tension, it seemed, and if his aim had been for her to get used to him sitting around in his pyjamas then an hour later his aim had been achieved, for Tiffany was beginning to enjoy the intimacy that surrounded them, and if her heart gave an unexpected painful tug at the occasional glance he threw her way, then it was worth it because not one angry word had passed between them. They could have been a staid married couple, she thought fleetingly, when he offered her half of the newspaper he had brought in, and they each buried their heads in print. She recalled he had said he wanted to 'talk' to her, but she put all thoughts of serious conversation to the back of her mind. They could talk tomorrow—tonight Ben wanted to relax. Burying her head in the sand it might be, but she wasn't going to mention the subject of her leaving, not tonight.

  As she became aware of a stillness coming from his chair, a sudden clamouring started up in her senses. Unconsciously she had been listening for the sound of Ben turning the pages of his part of the paper, but she had not heard any sound for ages. It went without saying that she had been holding her part of the paper up as a shield, because

  not more than half a dozen words of the printed matter had she read.

  She felt a tension so sharp hit her that she could almost touch it, and waited, the silence crowding in on her, for some sort of movement from his chair. There was none. Perhaps he had nodded off to sleep, she thought, and tried not to fidget if that was the case. Hardly complimentary if he was asleep, but Ben did a difficult job and needed to be constantly alert while working. It was no good, she would have to take a peep at him—if he wasn't asleep he could still be reading, in which case his paper would be in front of his face and he wouldn't see her.

  Slowly she lowered her paper, and wanted to pull it back again quickly as she saw Ben wasn't asleep; he wasn't reading either, but was looking across at her, his eyes warm as though he had been willing her to look at him. Unspeaking they looked at each other, and Tiffany thought he must hear the sound of her heart beating madly away inside her when he left his chair, his expression gentle, telling her not to panic as he came over to the settee and took the paper from her.

  Not reading that, were you?' he asked quietly.

  No.' Impossible to lie.

  Wordlessly he lifted her feet off the floor until she was semi-reclining on the settee, then he sat beside her, taking her trembling hands in his. Then very slowly he lifted the hand that held her wedding band, and almost reverently brought it to his lips. Still holding her hands, he looked at her, seeming to be trying to read what was in her eyes. Tiffany was powerless to hide that she wanted him to kiss her, wanted to feel his arms about her. The grip on her hands tightened, though in no other way did he touch her, but he was seducing her with that gentle, understanding look in his eyes.

  `Tiffany,' he said softly, 'I want to make love to you.'

  `I know,' she said huskily, while knowing at the same time that he was giving her every chance to run. She didn't move save to grip his hands with an answering intensity.

  Without haste Ben lowered his head to her face, and she closed her eyes as his mouth came down in a feather-light kiss on her brow, to withdraw as again his eyes, now a darker grey, sought to read the expression in her opening luminous brown ones. He looked at her steadily, everything in his look telling her not to be alarmed. She felt him let go one of her hands to place his hand gently on a nerve that fluttered wildly at her throat, followed by a thistledown touch of his lips across her eyelids, felt his kiss transferred to the corner of her mouth, and in an agony of waiting for his lips to claim hers realised he was holding himself in check not to rush her, then he was cupping both hands to her face and without the need of thought her arms went up to hold him.

  It was as if the clasp of her hands on his shoulders told him of her willingness to whatever lay before them, and with a hungry cry of, 'Tiffany,' his mouth at last found hers, and she was drinking in a sweetness such as she had never before savoured.

  As their passion mounted, Tiffany was glad for Ben's experience she had never been kissed like this before, this giving, this sharing, and for all she was eager for him to possess her completely, there still lurked the fear of the unknown. As his lovemaking became even more intimate she could do nothing about an instinctive move to pull away from him, and feared he might have mistaken it to mean

  she didn't want to go any further, but looking up into the grey depths in his eyes, she saw nothing there but complete understanding. 'Don't be scared, my love,' he whispered tenderly, and with relief at his understanding came the

  release from the remainder of her inhibitions. She gloried in the feel of his hard body pressed closely against hers, and when he whispered, 'Do you want to stay here or shall we go to my room?' she wanted more than anything to be in his bed again.

  `Your room, Ben,' she said shyly.

  `Darling girl,' he breathed, and picked her up bodily, holding her against his heart.

  But before he had taken more than one step with her to the delights that awaited them, the ringing of the telephone shrilled through the air, and he halted momentarily, the sound strident and an unwanted intrusion into a moment that was beautiful. 'No,' he said, meaning to ignore it, and carried on through into his room to place her gently down on his bed.

  Tiffany could still hear the telephone's incessant call; whoever was ringing seemed determined to hang on until someone picked it up.

  `We'll have to answer it, Ben,' she whispered as he joined her on the bed. She had come down a few degrees from the high plateau his lovemaking had taken her to and the harsh interference of modern science was keeping her there,
but it would only take a few seconds for the phone to be answered, then Ben would again take her up to the heights and beyond.

  His arms dragged away from her as if to say for himself he would let the phone ring all night without answering it, but for her he would do anything.

  `I'll be right back,' he said tenderly. 'Don't move.'

  Tiffany smiled a loving smile when he had gone; she had no intention of going anywhere. But she found when Ben came back into the room, she had very little choice in the way of her intentions.

  `Sheila Roberts is holding on to speak to you,' his voice

  sounded as though he was making every effort to keep it even. 'I'm very much afraid you'll have to go.' He came to her on the bed as she sat up, his arms coming to hold her to him.

  `Oh, Ben !' Disappointment racked her. She wouldn't go, didn't want to go; she belonged here in Ben's arms.

  He stood up with her, his arms still around her. They both knew she would have to go, no one was called off stand-by just for the fun of it, but she didn't want just then to be reminded of Coronet's depleted staffing, or the hundreds of holidaymakers having to hang about the airport if the necessary staff couldn't be called in. Ben kissed her gently in a kiss of promise and as she backed slowly out of his arms, his hand inadvertently touched the tip of her breast, making her ache with longing to stay with him.

  Almost in a daze she found herself in the sitting room with the phone against her ear, and heard Sheila Roberts giving her instructions. With only a small part of her mind on what Sheila was saying, she was vaguely aware that the other girl didn't sound too pleased at the length of time she had been kept waiting to speak to her, and you're to report immediately,' Sheila snapped.

  Tiffany wasn't sure what made her ask Sheila the question she did, a combination of the fact that she didn't want to go anywhere other than with Ben, and the knowledge that, like her, he was on stand-by, she thought afterwards.

  `Ben as well?' she asked, her mind and heart still with the man in the other room. 'Am I to be on Ben's flight?'

  Sheila's reply shook her to her very foundations, shattered the feeling of warmth, of happiness and eager anticipation. 'Don't be idiotic,' Sheila said nastily. 'You must know Captain Maxwell expressly stated that under no circumstances would he fly with you again. You know ...' But whatever it was she was supposed to know went unheard,

  for the phone was back on its rest and Tiffany was staring at it dumbstruck. All that was clear to her was that to have issued such an instruction, Ben couldn't think very much of her at all.

  She heard a movement behind her, flinched when Ben's arm came around her, and hurt beyond reason, angrily shook his arm away. The flush of his lovemaking was still pink on her skin as she turned on him furiously, still in acute sensitivity at what had so nearly happened.

  `How could you?' she flung at him, completely beside herself. 'Oh, how could you?'

  `Tiffany ...' Ben stared back at her, not understanding, not believing the change in her. 'What's wrong?'

  `How could you?' she accused again. The last thing she was going to admit out loud was that she was upset that he could make love to her knowing it meant nothing to him, but he knew—oh yes, he knew.

  `For God's sake ...' he began.

  `Don't pretend with me any more, Ben,' she stopped him, and watched as a hardness came into his face, but didn't care.

  `Cut out the hysterics, Tiffany, and just tell me what I'm supposed to have done,' he said icily.

  How could he have changed so quickly from the warm, patient lover, to this cold uncompromising man) She just couldn't bear to stand looking at him any longer, and with a strangled dry sob, she turned and raced to her room. Feverishly she began throwing the things she would need for the flight into her case, the habit of the last three years doing the selecting for her, and she was dressed and' ready to leave without once having given thought to any of her actions.

  Ben was in the sitting room where she had left him when she returned, but the fact that he too was now dressed was

  evidence that he hadn't stayed there when she had rushed from him. Stiff-backed, her eyes bright with unshed tears, Tiffany meant to totally ignore him, but he came towards her, moving a hand up to touch her, only to let it fall to his side when she flinched away from him.

  `Now that you've got over your first burst of temper,' he said, his voice deliberately calm, 'perhaps you'll be good enough to tell me what it is I've done to bring this on.' Oh, you'd just love that, Captain Maxwell, wouldn't you! Tiffany silently fumed, and woodenly refused to answer him. 'Tiffany.' The way he said her name warned her she was on dangerous ground, though why she couldn't see; he was the one in the wrong, not her.

  As he had said, her first burst of temper was over, but she couldn't bear the ignominy of breaking down in front of him, and she prayed she could get outside the door of the flat without that happening.

  `I shall be late if I don't go now,' she said firmly.

  `I've telephoned for a taxi,' he told her, and as she opened her mouth to protest, he added, 'You're not driving anywhere, the state you're in. It will be a couple of minutes before the taxi gets here, so you can use those few minutes in telling me what's wrong.' An idea he hadn't thought of suddenly seemed to hit him. 'You're not upset because of what was about to happen, are you?' he asked, then, his voice changing to the understanding she had heard in it before, 'Sweetheart, it's ...'

  `It's not that.' Her face was scarlet, but he would know anyway once he got round to thinking about it that his advances had been anything but repugnant to her, so it was pointless to lie.

  `Then for God's sake tell me what's wrong !' he bellowed at her, thoroughly exasperated by her icy refusal to tell him what had turned her from the passionate woman who had

  been in his arms earlier, to the block of ice standing before him now. 'I knew damn well we should have had our talk as soon as I came home, but I thought you knew how ...' He broke off with an exploding oath he didn't apologise for as the door bell rang to announce the arrival of her taxi.

  Never had Tiffany been so glad to hear the doorbell ring, but before she could move past Ben his hands had descended heavily on her shoulders. She thought he intended to hold her back by brute force, but when she looked at him in frozen silence, it seemed to infuriate him still more and he took his hands away from her as though only by doing so could he control the urge to do her some injury.

  He picked up her case, his face stony. 'Circumstances force me to let you go,' he said harshly. 'But as I live and breathe we're going to have a reckoning when next we meet !'

  He ignored the taxi driver's hand stretched out ready to take the case from him, forcing Tiffany to follow him to the waiting taxi. Tiffany watched while he paid the driver, heard his, 'Wait a moment,' and then found herself looking into the iciest expression she had ever encountered. He took hold of her arm in a grip that threatened to cut off her circulation, and there was no doubting he was angrier than she had ever seen him.

  `I could kill you for what you've done tonight,' he grated. `You just stay put when you get home—or by God, you'll be sorry!'

  CHAPTER TEN

  TIFFANY was mindless of the route the taxi driver chose, was unaware of anything around her as renewed fury hit her. What right had he to get mad? Just who did he think he was? It was he, Ben Maxwell, who had made her the laughing stock of Coronet Airlines, not the other way about, for if Sheila Roberts knew, then everybody knew that Captain Maxwell could not bear to have his wife on the same flight.

  How could he have done such .a thing? And to think she had so nearly surrendered to him. Would have surrendered to him had it not been for that timely phone call. And what was he thinking now? That she was easy? That he had only to lift his little finger and she would come running? And he had the nerve to say he could kill her? Oh, what wouldn't she like to do to him!

  How was she going to face the others? Those on the flight deck, the stewardesses. What on earth were they thinking? One thing wa
s for certain, they were all well aware that hers was no usual marriage.

  Her pride up in arms, Tiffany couldn't get it out of her mind. How willingly she had gone to him, had trusted him completely. Had even been glad that he was experienced. Oh, how he must be laughing at her naivety! She was too angry to remember how patient with her inexperience he had been, how tender; all she could think of was that she was the wronged party, and to add insult to injury, Ben Maxwell was trying to lay the blame at her door.

  Sheila Roberts handed her her flight programme when

  she reached the airport, and seemed to have recovered from her earlier ill humour. 'Sorry to get you out of bed,' she said, the near truth of her remark making Tiffany turn quickly away before the other girl should see the hot rush of colour that stormed her face.

  They had flown to Tokyo, spent a couple of days there and were on their way to Hong Kong before Tiffany simmered down sufficiently to allow a few doubts to creep in. There was nothing to tell from anything any of her fellow workers said that they thought her relationship with Ben seas anything other than normal.

  By the time they landed in Hong Kong her doubts were growing, though she still couldn't find any good reason for Ben not wanting to fly with her. She was good at her job, she knew that without being big-headed.

  On the third day of their five-day stopover in Sydney, the problem she had brought with her from London had come full circle, and she was once again convinced that her action since hearing Sheila Roberts' news had been the right one. Only now when it was too late, she could think of scores of cutting remarks she could have said to Ben, that had not come to her mind at the time.

  On the fourth day she was again doubting that she was one hundred per cent right in her musings, and by the time they had taken off for New Zealand she was so completely confused, she deliberately pushed her thoughts away and concentrated on the job in hand. Not wanting time to think, she anticipated passengers' needs, made friendly conversation with any passenger looking a little lost, lonely or frightened, made herself indispensable to the crew on the flight deck, and not until they landed in Auckland did she face the fact that she was run off her feet.