by Anne Hampton
‘Lower your voice,’ he cut in. ‘I’m not being shown up in my own restaurant.’
She blushed hotly under the reproof and glanced around surreptitiously to see if she had attracted any attention. To her relief no one was looking this way. She apologised nevertheless, and added in a much subdued tone of voice that yet carried a certain degree of spirit, ‘We must talk, Luke. I want to be able to meet Steve—’
‘Is he still on Grand Bahama?’
She shook her head. ‘No, he only stayed two days.’ Her lip quivered. ‘It’s not a bit like an ordinary courtship.’
The hard eyes darkened with contempt, matching the scornful thrust to his voice as he said, ‘It’s hardly an ordinary courtship, is it? Steve’s not only a married man but he’s your sister’s husband.’
‘Greta isn’t my sister,’ she reminded him quiveringly.
‘Don’t you care about the talk that’s going to result if you and Steve are to have an affair?’
‘Affair?’ she repeated with a swift and angry frown.
‘Isn’t that inevitable if you and he keep on seeing one another?’
Was it imagination, wondered Christine, or was he having difficulty with this discussion? A sort of dejection seemed to be running through his anger.
‘I shan’t have an affair with Steve,’ she told him quietly. ‘He did suggest—’ Again she had let her tongue run away with her and she cursed herself when Luke, pouncing, asked grittingly just what Steve had suggested.
‘Tell me!’ he ordered when she remained silent. ‘What did he suggest?’
She felt the heat in her cheeks and automatically put her hands to them. Her eyes were misted as they met his across the table. ‘He said that two years was a long time to wait—if we did have to wait that time. . . .’ Why did she always have to obey these commands of Luke’s? Always she found herself being domineered over and doing nothing about it. ‘Steve thought, quite naturally, that we—he and I—that is—’
‘You’d live together?’ The smouldering look in his eyes, the taut set of that jaw, the compression of his mouth ... all compounded to put fear into Christine and she would have done anything to be able to run from him. But where would she run to? Steve? The idea was born, but for the present she was under this obligation to Luke, dependent on him wholly. It was a desolate situation to be in and suddenly she was blinking rapidly to hold back the tears.
Luke said unhurriedly, ‘Perhaps we should leave and dine at home.’
She swallowed hard and shook her head. ‘I’ll be all right.’ She quivered.
‘We’ll leave,’ he decided and beckoned a passing waiter. In a quiet voice he said they were leaving and a few minutes later they were in the car, speeding along a tree-lined road which led to the beautiful region known as Bahamia where many of the wealthy people of the island had their homes. The house was in total darkness except for one outside light which was always left on. Luke had given the maid leave to go and spend the evening with her sister over at West End.
‘We should have stayed,’ said Christine tearfully as Luke unlocked the front door. ‘There’s no dinner for us.’ Not that she felt like eating, she thought, but Luke must be hungry.
‘We’ll scrape something up from the fridge.’ He closed the door, switched on a light and turned to her. ‘Thursday’s your birthday, Christine, and you’ll be nineteen. Isn’t it time you began acting your age?’
‘I’m in love—’
‘You are not!’ he broke in wrathfully and it did seem that he was willing her to believe him. ‘Steve is not for you, so the sooner you forget him the better. It’s a damnable thing that his marriage is breaking up at this particular time—before you’ve managed to get over your infatuation for him.’ He strode away into the kitchen and she followed slowly, an ache in her heart. Life was becoming unbearable! It seemed to hold nothing bright at all. And soon it would be her birthday. Luke was going to take her to a dinner dance at the Captain’s Charthouse but of course he would not do so now.
‘Are you going to help me?’ she heard him say.
‘Yes, of course.’
‘I decided to leave the restaurant because it seemed you were about to burst into tears.’ His tone was cutting as he threw the words over his shoulder. ‘I shall make it my business to see Steve tomorrow.’
‘You mean—you’re going over to Pirates’ Cay?’
‘That’s exactly what I mean.’ He was taking a cold chicken from the fridge.
‘What time will you be back?’
‘Tomorrow? I might not be back tomorrow.’
‘Oh . . .’ She did shed a tear then, but brushed it from her face with an angry gesture. He was not going to see just how much he could hurt her!
‘There’s some salad material here. Do something with it while I carve the bird.’
Mechanically she washed the lettuce and tomatoes and put them in a bowl. There were peppers and cucumber but she had no heart for going to the trouble of making a salad. She laid the table instead and they sat down to a silent meal.
Afterwards he said, watching her intently, ‘What was your reaction to Steve’s suggestion?’
‘I told him I couldn’t live with him until we’re married.’
He seemed to wince as she mentioned marriage but recovered so swiftly that she felt sure she was imagining things.
‘And he accepted that?’
‘He said I would get used to the idea with time.’ Again she was doing what he wished and not keeping quiet as she would have preferred to do. This compulsion, this ability to coerce her . . .
‘I want to get a job,’ she declared suddenly. ‘You can’t stop me, Luke!’
‘I happen to have promised Arthur I’d take care of you, Christine, and that is what I intend to do. I don’t make promises and then break them.’
‘Arthur made you promise?’
‘He phoned me very late on the night I took you to my home on Pirates’ Cay. He was contrite but still unable to forgive you—’
‘There was nothing to forgive!’
‘He believed there was,’ returned Luke quietly. ‘I made the promise and, as I have said, I intend to keep it.’
‘So Arthur does care something about me,’ she murmured, for the moment diverted.
‘Don’t judge him too hard, Christine—’
‘Oh, for goodness sake stop calling me Christine! You know that whatever anyone else calls me you always call me Chris!’ She started to cry but there was no shoulder for her now.
‘Is it so important that I use Chris?’ he enquired softly, and she nodded her head, gulping back a sob. ‘You—kn-know it is.’
A sigh escaped him. His anger had long since evaporated, which was customary. It did not matter how angry he might be, he was always calm again within a very short space of time. But now he seemed to have difficulty in keeping his patience. ‘Stop crying,’ he said sharply. ‘All this misery’s of your own doing.’ Christine said nothing and he reverted to what he was saying before she interrupted him. ‘Don’t judge Arthur too hard. He’s going through a very bitter period in his life at present. No man enjoys humiliation. Loreen’s escapade has hurt him because he loves her, but it has also humiliated him as well, and I suspect that this latter’s more punishing to a man like him than the pain of losing his wife. He’s sensible enough to know he’ll get over Loreen, but the humiliation will be there for the rest of his life.’
‘How could she treat him like that?’
‘She obviously believes she’s in love with someone else.’ Luke’s voice was harsh. ‘He’s better off without her, but now isn’t the time to try to convince him of it.’
‘So much happening.’ She sighed. ‘Everything going wrong for all of us.’
‘I’ve just said that your misery’s caused by yourself alone.’ Luke’s voice was terse but not too unkind. She had the impression that she was trying his patience to the utmost but yet he was endeavouring to make excuses for her. Undoubtedly he thought he understood her,
truly believed that all she felt for Steve was infatuation. She remembered thinking of the possibility that he loved her and of her own unhappiness at the idea of causing him the kind of pain she herself had suffered when the man she loved had married another girl.
She said again, ‘I want to get a job, Luke.’
‘So as to be independent of me?’ They were on the pool patio drinking coffee, and Luke was drinking Napolean brandy with his.
‘I’m old enough to be independent,’ she pointed out reasonably. ‘If I hadn’t been adopted I’d have been working for two years or more by now.’
He looked at her and seemed undecided. Something stirred in her, then tingled along her nerve ends. It seemed to be an important interlude, as if something momentous was about to happen. She averted her face, heard him expel a breath of impatience, and when she glanced up at last he was sipping his brandy and looking out over the pool to where the light from the bungalow roof picked out the massive bush of magenta bougainvillaea. Fireflies darted about, sending forth tiny points of light to give an added mystery to the intriguing darkness of the garden.
‘I can’t allow you to get a job yet.’ Luke’s voice at last and it brought a swift frown to Christine’s brow.
‘Allow?’ she challenged tartly. ‘You can’t talk like that to me, Luke.’
He gazed steadily at her.
‘I can and I will,’ he said firmly. ‘Leave it for the time being, Chris, just until Arthur makes up his mind what he’s going to do.’
‘He’s retiring; you heard him say so. I can’t even go back to Cassia Lodge anyway. And I’m not intending to sponge on you much longer.’
‘Sponge!’ Sudden fury brought threads of crimson colour creeping along the sides of his mouth. How forbidding he was! ‘You’re not sponging and you know it. Don’t you dare use that word again!’
‘You’re so touchy this evening,’ she complained.
‘I have need to be!’
‘It’s I who should be angry,’ she said. ‘I’m being dictated to again.’
‘Don’t try me too far,’ he warned softly. ‘At this moment I could spank you so hard you’d not sit down for a month!’
She blinked at his vehemence. He really meant it, she thought, and swiftly changed the subject. ‘Tomorrow—what shall I do on my own?’ It was a question that had hovered on her tongue for some time and she had been waiting for a propitious moment in which to voice it. Now was scarcely a propitious time but she must divert his thoughts into some less dangerous channel.
‘Read a book,’ he answered briefly.
‘I meant in the evening.’ Her voice held an unconscious note of pleading and all at once he softened. The change was miraculous! But it brought a lovely warmth flowing along her veins. She smiled winsomely in response to the slow curve of his mouth and she said in a low tone, ‘You’ll come back in time for dinner, won’t you, Luke?’
A long silence followed as Christine anxiously stared into his inscrutable countenance. The waiting became almost unbearable; she was puzzled at first and then she knew with absolute certainty that his hesitation was deliberate. He was punishing her by keeping her in suspense. But instead of being angry or piqued she found herself in sympathy with his mood. For she was honest enough to own that she had indeed tried his patience. He disliked her friendship with Steve, genuinely believing it was bad for her to be associating with him because he was still Greta’s husband. Yes, mused Christine understanding, Luke had cause to be treating her like this.
At last he broke the silence, but there was nothing in the mask of his face to reflect his innermost thoughts. ‘You’d like me to take you out?’
‘Oh, Luke,’ she cried impulsively, ‘you know very well I want you to take me out!’
He smiled faintly but shook his head, as if to clear it. She thought of how easily they always resolved their differences and felt that if all married couples could do the same there would never be any of the heartache and upset of divorce.
‘Do you think you deserve that I should alter my plans in order to pander to your wishes?’
She hung her head. ‘I’ve been a little trying—’
‘A little trying did you say?’
She swallowed uncomfortably. ‘Very trying, then,’ she amended. ‘But I’m sorry and want to be with you in the evening. . . .’ She glanced up and he saw the tears glistening on her lashes. He stood up and held out both hands towards her.
‘Come here, Chris,’ he invited softly. ‘My dear, there really isn’t anything to cry for.’
‘It’s not Steve this time, Luke.’
‘I know.’
‘It’s just that I feel emotional. I always do when we have a quarrel. Do you remember, Luke, there was a time when you and I never had a cross word?’
‘I remember.’ The suggestion of a smile touched the firm outline of his mouth. ‘But things were rather different then. You regarded me in the light of an uncle, if I remember correctly—or was it a guardian you wanted me to be?’
She managed a shaky laugh and moved closer to him. She craved the comfort of his arms about her, as they had been about her so many times before.
‘We’ve changed towards one another,’ she reflected. ‘I want you as a friend now.’ She had managed to get as close as she could but his hands were still holding hers, and so his arms did not come around her. ‘Why should we have disagreements just because of this change?’ she wanted to know.
‘You’ll understand when you take the trouble to think more deeply about it.’ He drew her close and kissed her on the lips. ‘I’ll get back in time to take you out to dinner,’ he promised a moment later. ‘Happy now?’
‘Much happier,’ she breathed. ‘And Thursday, Luke? We’ve always been together on my birthday, haven’t we?’ She was recalling all the other birthdays when Arthur had taken them all out and Luke was invited every time. ‘Arthur always remembered, didn’t he? I don’t mean my birthday but Loreen’s and Greta’s too. He never once failed to take us out.’
‘Those days are gone, dear,’ he said gently, ‘so it’s best to forget them.’
And Steve, he meant as well—yes, forget Steve because he’s not for you. Christine looked up into his face and knew her deductions were correct. She snuggled close and Steve was forgotten in the pleasure of this making up.
‘Kiss me again, Luke,’ she asked him shyly. ‘I’m very sorry for making you angry.’
‘We can forget that too,’ he decided gruffly, and obliged her by giving her the kiss she had asked for. But this time it was by no means so gentle or restrained. His mouth on hers was moist and mobile and sensuously demanding. She felt the tenseness of the past few hours leaving her and the crosscurrents of dissension had given way to this soothing languor of peace and pleasure.
There was certainly something deep and strong between Luke and herself, always had been from that moment when she had gone to him and wept upon his breast.
‘Chris,’ he warned softly against her cheek, ‘you’re trying me in a very different way now.’
But she yearned for comfort, for the full assurance that she had not damaged their relationship. She snuggled close and let her arms creep up and around his neck, shyly caressing his nape and thrilling to the knowledge that she was giving him pleasure. For Christine there was a magical sensitivity to the tender caress of Luke’s hands which forced a response in the willing reciprocation of her slender body to the masterful demands of his. She was learning fast, as through her innocence there filtered the knowledge of physical love. A great wave of tenderness flowed into every cell of her body when, freeing one smooth round breast without her being aware of the gentle, tender manipulation of her clothes, Luke spread his fingers around it before taking the little bud and raising it to a peak of desire. Quivers thrilled through her in rapturous repetition as she arched her curves to the masculine hardness of his long and sinewed frame. He was her master, doing what he liked with her, taking his fill of her beauty, caressing every tender curve of
her body with infinite tenderness and yet with that innate arrogance which was so much a part of him. She had surrendered and therefore she should be subjected totally. She felt small and helpless . . . and very safe, here in his strong arms, taking her pleasure and giving in return.
‘Chris,’ he groaned in low and husky tones, ‘Chris ... I must have you. . . .’ His hands moved as if freed altogether from the small amount of restraint he had been putting on them, and ecstasy ripped through her as she felt the warmth on her stomach, the bare flesh tingling as a fever of desire took possession of her mind. She had learned that he was an experienced lover, that it was his tender expertise that had aroused her to this point where return was unthinkable. His other hand slid down her back, possessive and warm beneath her clothes; his fingers curved and she was lifted up into his arms. There was no John to thwart Luke’s intentions this time, she thought contentedly as she let her head fall onto a broad and welcome shoulder. She slid her hand into his coat, her pulses throbbing in sympathy with the shudder coursing through him.
Luke carried her to the room she occupied and laid her on the bed. He stood above her, fascinatedly watching the rise and fall of her breasts, the gentle swell of her stomach, the trembling mobility of the lovely lips. Her eyes were wide and trusting and a small hand lifted to find itself a home in his. He squeezed it, then, bending, raised it to his lips, his gaze all tenderness, and there was a small throbbing movement in the scar that Christine had never noticed before. He was taking his coat off, and then unbuttoning his shirt, and a shyness came over her because she wondered if she ought to be undressing too. She sat up but he shook his head.
‘I’ll do it,’ he said, reading her mind.
He would do it. Undress her after he himself was naked. Her heart jerked with unwanted nervousness and she was aware of a little access of palpitation.
