The Wings of Love

by Sally Wentworth

  'Will you meet him somewhere?'

  'I'm afraid I'm pretty busy right now, Michel.' Freeing her arm, she edged away.

  'But will you not telephone him, then?'

  'Oh, sure. When I have the time. Good night.' And she escaped up the flight of stairs to the top floor and locked herself in her room, leaving Nora to grab Michel and stop him following her again.

  It was terribly hot, the air close and sultry. The efficient air-conditioning in the villa didn't extend to the maid's room, so Tressy pushed the window open as wide as it would go and tried to settle down to sleep, pushing aside the coverlet and having only a thin sheet over her. But even this was too much. Sitting up, she pulled off her thin nightdress and lay naked, her body wet with perspiration, longing for some air. But it wasn't only the heat, her mind was too active, too full of thoughts for her to relax and let sleep come. After about an hour of tossing and turning, Tressy got up and put on a toweling robe and sandals, then crept downstairs, careful not to wake her aunt and uncle who had come in shortly after Michel had left.

  The air-conditioned rooms felt almost cold after the stifling heat of her room, and Tressy contemplated spending the rest of the night on a settee; it would certainly be more comfortable. Wandering over to the French windows, she looked out and saw that the night had completely clouded over, the sky black and menacing. It seemed strange not to see the moon and stars. Tressy unlatched the windows and went outside, stepping into the electric blanket of heat, immediately feeling sweaty and sticky again. There was no moon reflected in the still waters of the swimming pool, but it still looked infinitely inviting. Without hesitation, Tressy stepped out of her robe and waded down the circular steps into the pool. It was so cool, heavenly. Lowering herself into the water, she swam slowly down the length of the pool, then turned on her back and floated, gazing up at the dark, heavy sky. From not far away came a reverberation of thunder and she gave a sigh of relief; perhaps a storm would lift this oppressive heat. She swam for about twenty minutes or so and then came out, the water running down her silky skin as she climbed the steps. Lifting up her arms, she stood poised on the edge as she tilted her head back and squeezed water out of her hair, her tall, slim body outlined by a sudden flash of lightning.

  'Hello, Tressy.'

  The soft words came from the other side of the pool and she swung round, although she knew the voice at once. Cris moved forward a little so that she could see him more clearly. How long he'd been there she had no idea. There was no point in being embarrassed; he had seen everything there was to see, but Tressy stooped down gracefully and picked up her robe, putting it on before she answered him.

  'Do you make a habit of this kind of thing?' she asked tartly. Then, when he didn't reply, 'What do you want?'

  'To see you.' His voice had hardened. 'To find out for myself just what's going on.'

  There was a great rumble of thunder and the lightning flashed again, the whole sky a battlefield. It lit Cris's grim features, and Tressy suddenly wanted to run to him and take that look from his face, to hold him close and feel his arms about her, to make everything all right again. But she couldn't do that, she didn't dare take the risk. She was going to have to be hard, hard on him and on herself, and she was sharply aware that it was going to hurt appallingly. But this moment had been inevitable from the instant Nora had brought those scissors slashing down. Stepping into her sandals, Tressy said as coldly and steadily as she could manage, 'You saw Nora, didn't you?'

  'I saw her, yes. She told me that you were going out with another man. I didn't believe her,' he added harshly.

  Tressy's heart began to thump painfully as she wished she could end this and go inside, but Cris was standing between her and the house. 'Why should she lie?' she prevaricated, edging towards the building.

  'I think we both know why Nora would lie.' He waited for her to deny it, then said bleakly, 'I take it, then, that it's true?'

  'So what if it is?' Tressy's chin came up. 'I go out with who I like.'

  'And stand up those you don't like, obviously,' Cris said with bitter self-mockery. 'But tell me, just for the record, why the hell--did you say you'd go out with me in the first place if you dislike me so much?'

  She shrugged, acting now for all she was worth so that this would soon be over. 'Because you were a free meal ticket, of course. I never turn down a free meal.' 'From anyone?'

  'Not from anyone like you,' she retorted, deliberately making her tone insulting. She had been trying to get towards the house, but at this Cris came round the head of the pool and strode towards her, making her instinctively back away.

  'So it was all a game to you, was it?' He caught her arm, his face contorted with anger. 'It didn't mean a thing. I was just a means of free entertainment until your boy-friend turned up. Or should I say your lover? Is he your lover?' He shook her arm, gripping hard.

  'Mind your own damn business!'

  His grip tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh. 'What's so wonderful about him? Is he so bloody marvellous in bed? Is that it?' He caught her other wrist, his voice rising in fury as the storm began to break around them. 'My God, I was all wrong about you, wasn't I? I thought you were soft and vulnerable underneath that veneer of hardness. But you're tough all right, really hard! And I handled you all wrong. Tough girls like being mastered, so they say, but I treated you like Dresden china, afraid you'd break and be scared off. But maybe this is what you really wanted all along.' And he pulled her roughly into his arms, bending her back so that she was braced against his taut body, his hand in her wet hair as he brought his mouth down on hers, taking her lips in a mixture of fury and revenge, caring for nothing but the need to dominate and possess.

  Tressy tried to cry out, but her mouth was locked under his and she made only futile sounds of fierce resentment. She beat at his chest with clenched fists, but he was as impervious as a punch bag, intent only on taking his anger out on her. Somehow she managed to kick his ankle and he swore at her, his kiss hardening and hurting her as he forced her mouth open. Tressy tried to turn her head away, hating him for what he was doing to her, but he held her captive, taking a feverish enjoyment out of her helplessness. But maybe she wasn't entirely helpless-from somewhere she dragged up the memory of a TV programme she'd seen on self-defence, and brought the side of her hand up against his throat. Cris's head went back and he automatically stepped away from her, his grip loosening.

  'You animal! You rotten, stinking pig!' She lashed out at him, catching him on the side of his face. She did it in reaction to her own anger, but it was entirely the wrong thing to say and do. If she had reasoned with him, Cris would have calmed down at once, but her words pushed him over the edge of the precarious hold on his temper and she cried out with fear and turned to run as she saw the look of pure rage on his face as he lunged towards her.

  Impossible to get to the house-- Tressy ran to the only other means of escape, out of the gate and down the path leading towards the beach, the thunder and lightning breaking immediately overhead now and the first heavy, scalding drops of rain hitting the parched ground. At the first bend she glanced back and saw Cris coming after her. With a sob she plunged on down the steeply zig-zagging path, ignoring the risk of a twisted ankle, the skirts of her robe flying open. She jumped the last few feet to the beach, and then looked round wildly like a cornered animal, not knowing which way to go for the best. Turning to the left, Tressy began to run along the empty beach, the usually placid sea a surging maelstrom of pounding waves, the rain blinding her.

  Her foot caught on a stone and she stumbled, but somehow managed to save herself and run on, but the next moment Cris caught her and jerked her violently round to face him, his breath ragged and gasping. Then she was fighting him in all earnestness, knowing her danger, using nails, teeth, feet, hurting him as much as she could. Deliberately he tripped her and they fell to the ground, fighting savagely as they rolled on the wet sand. As they struggled Tressy's robe came open and a great, jagged flash o
f forked lightning revealed her to him as Cris lay half on top of her.

  'You bitch! Oh God, you beautiful bitch!'

  Time and sound seemed to be suspended as he reached out and touched her breast, his hand infinitely gentle. Tressy shuddered on a wave of sexuality and stared into Cris's face. Then she gave a low moan of desire, and pulled him down towards her as a great roar of thunder broke above their heads.

  Now rage turned to a primitive passion and their fighting was of a different kind as they lay on the rain soaked beach. For a few minutes Tressy felt the raindrops drumming against her bare back as she tore at his shirt, but then Cris swung her under him and she cried out as he explored her with hand and mouth, her hands twisted in his hair or digging into his shoulders. He released- her for a brief moment and when he turned to her again she felt the smooth nakedness of his skin against her own. Her body arched towards him, eager to feel the thrust of his male hardness, her whole being on fire with the hunger for love.

  'Tressy. Oh God, Tressy!' His voice was hoarse and rasping, drawn out into a groan.

  'I want you. I want you to make love to me.' Her frenzied plea reached him through the raging storm and he put his hands on either side of her head, staring down into her face before he lunged forward and took her in a ravaging invasion of savage hunger, his voice joining hers in a rising cry of sensuality as his body surged in a great climax of passion.

  They lay there unmoving, arms and legs in a tangle of limbs as the rain beat down on them, then Cris lifted his head and kissed her, a long kiss of tender gratitude. Tressy returned it, with a passion she had not realised she possessed. But it had an unexpected effect, because she felt Cris harden and his body begin to move against her. She gasped, and he gave a soft, triumphant laugh. 'What the hell did you expect?'

  He made love to her more slowly this time, his first overpowering need diminished so that he could give as well as take. And he gave in abundance, making love to her with an expertise that lifted her close to the heights and away again several times before he at last gave her frantic body the satisfaction she begged him for.

  Exhausted now, Tressy lay in his arms as the storm moved on, the thunder becoming distant and only the sound of the waves and their own uneven breathing breaking the silence. And with the passing of the storm came sanity and the realisation of what she had done-and of what Nora would do if she ever found out. Horrified, Tressy pulled herself free of Cris's arms and stood up unsteadily. She was covered in wet sand, it was in her hair and sticking to her skin. Walking down to the sea, she waded in and dived as soon as the water was deep enough, turning on her back to wash the sand out of her hair. There was a splash as Cris dived through a wave and swam to join her, but Tressy deliberately went under the surface to avoid him and swam back towards the shore. Then she ran to put on her sandals and her uncomfortably wet and sandy robe.

  'Hey, wait for me!' Cris was wading towards her through the shallows farther down the beach.

  'No! You stay away from me!' Her yell halted him in his tracks and he stood and gazed at her disbelievingly. 'You've got what you wanted. Now leave me alone!' And then, hating herself for having submitted to him so weakly and terribly afraid of the effect it might have on her cousin, she took her fear and confusion out on Cris, shouting in genuine fury, 'I hate you! I hate you!' Then she turned and ran back up the path, leaving him still staring after her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  TRESSY reached the house safely, praying that the storm hadn't woken anyone. The last thing she wanted was for someone to look out of a window and see her, but her relations were all heavy sleepers and she reached her room safely. With a sigh of relief she took off the sodden robe and dropped it into the hand basin, then towelled herself dry and got into bed, almost feeling chilly now after the earlier heat. She was half afraid that Cris might do something crazy, like ring the front door bell until someone answered it and then demand to see her, but after a very tense half hour in which nothing happened, she was able to relax a little and try to think what to do.

  The most important thing, of course, was to make sure that Nora never found out. She tried to concentrate on how best to do this, but her thoughts kept going back to their tempestuous lovemaking on the beach. Why had she stopped fighting and given in to him? Why? It had been a mad and crazy thing to do. She should have gone on resisting him. But wouldn't that have annoyed him so much that he would have taken her by force? And what was the point in fighting him when she had wanted it so badly? Tressy gave an inward moan as she remembered how much she had wanted him and how wonderful it had been. She still ached from his sexual domination, but she didn't feel used; her body was alive now as it had never been. In the moment when Tressy had told him she hated him, she had meant it, but now she realised that her feelings were far opposite to hate, and she was filled with a great sadness. What a mess. Oh God, what an unholy mess!

  Cris phoned the villa the next morning after breakfast. Tressy was sitting on the terrace giving Aunt Grace a manicure, but couldn't have reached the phone even if she'd wanted to, because Nora made sure she grabbed it first. The phone call was no surprise, but Nora's reaction was. She came out on to the terrace beaming her head off. 'That was Crispin,' she informed them with relish. 'He's asked me to have lunch with him. You'll have to do my hair and nails, Tressy, and then you can make sure the things I want to wear are properly pressed.'

  She went gleefully up to her room, to decide which clothes she wanted, leaving Tressy with her thoughts in chaos. Was this Cris's way of getting back at her? But she just couldn't believe it of him. He wasn't the vindictive type. But after last night ... Who could tell what reaction her walking out on him could have provoked? It seemed that Nora was meeting him in Monte Carlo, and she left by taxi, her face flushed and eyes sparkling, convinced that her desperate gamble had paid off and that Cris was hers for the taking now.

  Tressy, however, had dark circles under her eyes and felt deathly tired, not having slept at all last night. When she at last had the place to herself, she pulled a lounger with a thick mattress over beside the pool and took off the slacks and shirt she had been wearing all day, looking ruefully at the bruises on her skin that they had been hiding. Sleep claimed her almost instantly, so she didn't hear Nora come back a couple of hours or so later, not waking until almost five o'clock when the sun had gone round and she lay in the shadow of a pine tree.

  After making herself something to eat, Tressy wandered into the house and went upstairs to shower, thinking rather bleakly that Nora's lunch date with Cris was turning into an all-day affair. Perhaps he had taken her back to his boat and they had gone to some deserted cove. Would he make love to Nora, too? Or would he prefer to make her his wife than his mistress? The idea was unbearable, and she ran upstairs, almost missing the fact that Nora's bedroom door was wide open. But something white lying on the floor caught her eye and she went in. It was the short-sleeved silk shirt and matching skirt that Nora had worn for her date. So she had been back, to change, presumably. If so, Cris must have brought her, and Tressy flushed as she wondered if he had looked at her while she lay asleep.

  Automatically she bent to pick up the clothes-and then stared; both garments had been torn violently, leaving long jagged holes in the soft material. For a moment Tressy was too stunned to think, but then she saw Nora's scissors lying on the floor and realised that her cousin must have taken the clothes off and slashed them in a fit of temper. But why? What could have happened? And where was Nora now? Tressy sat down on the bed, trying to figure it out and dreadfully afraid that Nora might be upset enough to do something desperate again. But the fact that she had only slashed her clothes to pieces and not herself seemed to be a hopeful sign. Tressy sighed; short of phoning Cris and asking him what had happened, there was no way she was going to find out until Nora turned up again. And she certainly didn't intend to phone Cris. She looked down at the ruined garments; it was an outfit that Nora had bought in Nice and had cost nearly three hundred pounds. It was on
e of the few things Nora had that Tressy really liked and she could have cried at the waste, but she took it downstairs and hid it in the rubbish bin so that Aunt Grace wouldn't see it. Then all she could do was sit and gnaw her fingers, hoping against hope that Nora would be all right, while she waited for her to come home.

  By eleven that evening Tressy was getting really worried, and at midnight her aunt and uncle came home, reasonably early for once and looking as if they had had a row. They asked her where Nora was and Tressy replied, truthfully, that she hadn't seen her since she'd gone to meet Cris, and they went to bed satisfied that their daughter was in the hands of an eligible man. Tressy had been strongly tempted to tell them of her fears, but that meant coming clean about Nora's slashed wrist, and she was reluctant to get Nora into trouble when there might be some innocent explanation for her lateness. But as soon as they went upstairs, she telephoned Michel at his apartment. Luckily he was in.

  'Oh, hi. This is Tressy. Sorry to bother you, but does Nora happen to be with you? Oh, you haven't. Er-have you seen Cris at all today? He's with you now? No! No, I don't want to speak to him,' she said hastily. 'But could you ask him if he knows where Nora is?'

  But Michel relayed the news that Cris had put Nora into a taxi to take her home at about two-thirty and hadn't seen her since. 'Is there anything the matter?' Michel asked. 'I would like to help if I can.'