Fever Pitch

by Sarah Holland

  Jacey's eyes blazed with violent emotion. 'And I can't?'

  She laughed, her throat tight, her eyes stinging with angry tears. 'What can you give me? Yourself? For how long?' She laughed again, shaking her head. 'Two or three years at the most, then you'd disappear into nowhere and I'd. never see you again.' She drew a ragged breath, her face tight and pale. 'Well, it's not good enough, Jacey.'

  He watched her, his face working with anger and emotion. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he controlled his violent temper. The silence was filled with the sounds of their racing heartbeats, their ragged angry breathing.

  'Thank God I found out in time,' he said bitingly. 'Any man who marries you might just as well take poison or slit his throat.' His eyes raked her from head to foot with contempt. 'Marry him, and I hope your lonely bed makes you very happy. He'll have you climbing the walls with frustration in minutes.'

  She raised her head, her eyes bitter. 'Silk-clad walls, Jacey. Something you could never give me.'

  He drew a terse breath. 'You bitch!' he muttered contemptuously, and slammed out of the flat without another word.

  Louisa listened in silence as his harsh footsteps echoed in the dark street outside. Then her hands went to her face, tears of rage and pain falling over her cheeks as she stumbled to a chair and collapsed in it, crying wrenching sobs.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Fate was laughing at her.

  After months of living in dreamland, the bubble had finally burst. And Louisa had hit the ground with a resounding crash, flung into an icy, hostile world.

  Life was like that. One moment you're up, the next moment you're down; flat on your back wondering what the hell happened. It just goes to show, she thought dazedly, you should never laugh at fate, never laugh at tomorrow—one day tomorrow will turn right around and laugh at you.

  For a moment the tormented black eyes flashed with anger. Jacey had had no right to treat her that way. Their arguments had been unnecessary, he should have been able to confide in her. Instead he had turned his back on her when she needed him most.

  She sighed bitterly. Fate had only ever been kind to her twice in her life, and even then it had played a bizarre joke on her by sending both gifts at the same time. Pete's appearance had simply come at the wrong time.

  She loved Jacey totally—it was an intense attraction, combined with a deep knowledge that he belonged to her, was a part of her. But she felt a good deal of affection for Pete.

  She felt protective towards him. He had an infectious smile, a happy-go-lucky attitude to life brought about by his naivety about the realities of the world.

  She turned more and more towards Pete as the pain inside her grew. The more she needed Jacey, the more she clung to Pete. 'He was all she had left, and she just didn't feel strong enough to make it on her own any more.

  'Does he know about Jacey?' Scotty asked her one afternoon while they took their coffee break in the shop.

  'No.' Louisa sipped the steaming coffee, refusing to meet Mr Scott's eyes.

  Scotty sighed heavily. 'Ah, it's a bad thing you're doing to him, lassie,' he said deeply, and the watery blue eyes were filled with concern. 'He has a right to know.'

  Louisa's lips firmed as she bent her head, studying the counter blankly. Pete did have a right to know, but she didn't know what the point in telling him was. It would only hurt him.

  Scotty watched her, then shrugged his wiry shoulders, grimacing. 'Have it your own way,' he said, and added worriedly, 'But I don't like it. I don't like it at all.'

  'It would only hurt him,' Louisa pointed out irritably.

  Scotty shook his grey head. 'I meant Jacey,' he said quietly. 'He's a complete mystery to me, but there's one thing I do know—he's not the type to take this lying down.'

  She frowned, her eyes narrowing warily. 'What do you mean?'

  Scotty's grey brows rose. 'I mean that he's the type who likes to get revenge.' He shrugged. 'Seen it in his eyes. Strange eyes,' he murmured, looking worriedly at the wall, 'like a wolf ... that's what he reminds me of—a wolf. And he'll come back with his teeth bared.'

  Louisa stared at him. Prophetic words? she thought, shuddering with half fear, half excitement. The thought of Jacey coming back for revenge made her heart hammer furiously at her chest.

  'Congratulations, my dear!' Mr Radcliffe was pumping her hand, his round face beaming with smiles, the hollowed eyes alive, crinkling at the edges as he looked at her.

  'Thank you,' she replied with a blank smile. The party was giving her a headache. It was split into two factions—one half dressed as though they were meeting the Queen, the other half dressed as though they were at a rock concert.

  She looked down at the ring on her left hand. Now it was official. She was engaged to Peter Radcliffe, and their forthcoming wedding had been announced in The Times by Mr Radcliffe.

  Louisa suddenly felt very empty. I'm the base Indian, she thought sadly. I've thrown away Jacey, who was worth more than anything else in the world to me, for the sake of winning a petty argument.

  'Looking forward to July?' Pete popped up beside her, his spiky blond hair ruffled, his face flushed as he downed another drink.

  'Of course,' she replied with a tight smile. Only three weeks to their wedding. Only three months since Jacey had left her. It seemed like a lifetime to her.

  Pete gazed around the room at the conflicting groups of guests and laughed. 'Doesn't it look weird? God knows what it'll look like at the wedding. The priest'll think someone's playing a joke on him!'

  Louisa smiled blankly and looked away. She wanted to go home, she was sick of this party. It made her feel so guilty.

  Mr Radcliffe peered at his son. 'I hope all this means a change for the better, my boy. Wouldn't want to think of Louisa hobnobbing with your long-haired friends.'

  . Louisa laughed at the irritation on Peter's face and touched his arm gently. 'He's got a point,' she said softly. 'Which world are we going to live in?' The words made her feel even more guilty, because she knew no world was complete for her without Jacey.

  Pete frowned thoughtfully. 'I don't know.' He laughed ruefully. 'Most of the time I don't even know which world is reality. They're both real. It's like seeing both sides of life and having to adjust each time you move into the other side.'

  Louisa smiled her understanding quietly. He was torn between a life he had built for himself and the life his parents had given him. Poor Peter! She knew how he felt.

  Turning away, she went out into the hall for a moment's respite. Pete frowned for a moment, then followed her.

  'What's up?' he asked, studying her bent head, the light picking out strands of midnight-blue in her hair.

  She raised her head, her eyes honest. 'I want to go home.'

  His face smoothed over expressionlessly. 'All right,' he said with control, 'I'll drive you.'

  She laid a hand on his arm, knowing that the time had come for her to be totally honest with him. It would do no good for her to pretend feelings that didn't exist. It would only hurt him more in the long run.

  'Alone,' she said quietly, 'I want to go home alone. I don't know,' she shrugged, sighing, 'I just need time to think.'

  He froze into silence, studying her. He was hurt, she could see that, but it couldn't be helped. He nodded jerkily. 'I'll get you a car.'

  Louisa stepped outside the front door into the cool night air. She couldn't face going back into the party, even to say goodbye to them all. She needed to be alone for a while.

  A long black limousine slid towards her like a panther and she looked up. A man in black uniform got out and said softly, 'Your car, Miss Faulkner.'

  She nodded, and turned her head, wondering if she should wait for Pete. But he was probably too upset to even speak to her. She slid into the back of the car, and it pulled away smoothly while Louisa shut her eyes and relaxed.

  When she opened her eyes, she frowned, looking out of the window. Then she leaned forward and tapped on the glass partiti
on.

  'We're going the wrong way,' she told the chauffeur. 'My flat is in Belgrave Road.'

  There was a short silence. 'We're not going the wrong way.'

  Louisa sat very still, her heart thudding. 'I think we are,' she said uneasily.

  The man's eyes lifted to hers in the rear-view mirror. The four doors thumped shut, locking her in, and her eyes darted like a trapped animal's as she looked around. There was very little she could do. She sat back tensely, waiting to see where they were going. She wanted to scream, but there seemed no point.

  The car eventually turned into a private driveway, crawling along the gravel road until they stopped at the house. Louisa looked out, her eyes tracing the white columns, the coach light over the front door gleaming yellow in the darkness.

  The chauffeur opened her door. 'This way, please,' he said quietly.

  Louisa stepped back as he closed the car door behind her. 'Where are we?' she asked, her eyes narrowed.

  The chauffeur smiled. 'Never mind that now, miss,' he said softly, and led her into the house, along the exquisitely furnished hall to the room at the end of it. 'If you'd wait in here, miss,' he said politely, closing the door behind her.

  Her heart beating with nervousness, Louisa stood in the centre of the room. It was beautifully decorated—by someone who obviously had a lot of money to spare. She looked around, her eyes curious.

  The door opened behind her, and she spun, eyes widening.

  'Jacey?' she whispered, incredulously.

  He leaned against the door, his broad shoulders encased in a superbly cut black dinner jacket, his waist and lean hips emphasised by a smooth, tight-fitting black waistcoat, his long legs making her knees go weak.

  'Jacey?' he queried softly, then shook his black head. 'Jacey's dead. He doesn't exist any more.'

  She took one slow step towards him, her eyes narrowed, amazed. 'I don't understand ...' she said slowly, staring at him.

  'No,' he drawled, his hard mouth indenting sardonically, 'I don't suppose you do.'

  She stared at him for a long moment in stunned silence. Then she demanded, 'Why are you here, in this house?' She frowned, her head tilting. 'Are they friends of yours?'

  He shook his head. 'The house is mine.'

  Her mouth parted with amazement. Her eyes ran over the expensive decor of the room once more, taking in the antiques, the original paintings that hung on the walls. This room alone was worth hundreds of thousands of pounds.

  'But ...' she began haltingly, shaking her head, 'but where did you get the money from?'

  The firm mouth crooked cynically. 'Questions,' he drawled lazily, studying her, 'always questions. Do you never take anything on face value?' One brow rose in barbed amusement. 'Except money, of course.'

  Louisa flushed angrily. 'That isn't fair, Jacey. . . .' she began.

  His voice sliced through like a whiplash. 'Not Jacey!' he said bitingly, then he watched her for a moment in an intense silence before shrugging lazily and saying, 'I told you—Jacey doesn't exist any more. He never really did.'

  Louisa felt her pulses leap furiously with fear. The hard-boned face had changed over the months. Ruthlessness was now stamped on his angular face, power was ingrained in the menacing glitter of his eyes.

  'Then,' she said shakily, 'if you're not Jacey, who are you?'

  He studied her through thick black lashes that rested on his hard tanned cheek. Then he pushed away from the door, walking lazily over towards her.

  'My name is Jason Knight,' he told her coolly, and she started to back away from him, frightened by the sinister look in his green eyes. 'You see?' he drawled, stopping a few feet from her. 'You barely know me any more, or you wouldn't be frightened of me.'

  Louisa lifted her head, her face defiant. 'I'm not frightened of you,' she lied, controlling the leaping pulse at the hollow of her white throat.

  'No?' One dark brow rose, his face hardening as his gaze travelled over her. 'You should be.'

  Her throat tightened. He was a stranger—a menacing stranger who threatened her with every look of those predatory eyes, every flick of his black lashes.

  She looked away from his piercing stare. 'Why have you brought me here?' she asked in a low voice.

  Jacey slid one long finger into the pocket of his black waistcoat. 'You wanted to marry money,' he said in a cold voice, and a smile touched his lips. 'Here it is.'

  She stared at him bitterly, her lips tightening into a firm line. Her face whitened, the huge black eyes flashing, intent on his face as she watched him.

  'You really believe that, don't you?' she said in a low angry voice. 'You really think I'm out for money.'

  'Yes,' he said tightly, and the long fingers clenched at his side. 'You were ambitious when I met you, and you haven't changed much. You've just got more ambition instead of less.'

  'That's a lie!' she burst out, her lips trembling with indignation. 'I may have wanted a better life, but that's only because I'd had a rough deal . . .'

  'And I haven't?' he cut in bitingly.

  A silence fell, and they both stared at each other intently, electricity crackling tangibly between them. Then Jacey relaxed, his body less tense than before.

  'You have the night to think it over,' he said in a cool voice, his words clipped. 'When you've decided, we'll set the wheels in motion.'

  He walked towards the door, and Louisa followed him. 'Decided what?' she asked quickly, catching hold of the dark expensive material of his jacket sleeve.

  His eyes slowly dropped to her hand. Then he looked at her, his eyes hard and unreadable. Louisa could hear her heart hammering wildly against her breastbone.

  'Whether you'd rather marry Peter Radcliffe's money,' he said in a dark hostile voice, 'or mine.'

  Her eyes widened as she heard him speak. 'How do you know his name? How did you know where he lived?' she asked in a shaky whisper.

  Jacey's mouth crooked cynically. 'My men are very loyal,' he drawled, 'they do as they're told. I only have to lift a finger to get all the information I want.'

  She was bewildered, out of her depth. This hostile stranger who stood before her frightened her. The intense emotion no longer blazed in his eyes, the sensual curve of his mouth had hardened under the weight of cynicism.

  'I want my answer in the morning,' Jacey said coldly, opening the door and stepping into the hall. He looked along the hall and crooked one long finger. 'Mitchell,' he said crisply, and the chauffeur came forward, 'drive the young lady home, and make sure she stays there—alone.'

  He left the hall, going into another room, and Louisa followed the chauffeur to the limousine, her mind whirling with confusion, her heart pounding with total disorder.

  Jacey haunted her all night. He frightened her. The intensity of their feelings for each other was now boiling just beneath the surface, and she sensed an ultimate explosion if she didn't watch her step.

  Giving her one night to decide was so unfair. Yet if she really loved him, surely the choice would be easy? She sighed, twisting and turning in her bed, staring into the lonely darkness. How could she make a choice which would send her rocketing into heaven and hell? Their relationship had kept her there always, just between heaven and hell, and she Wasn't sure if she could take it for life. Heaven was so good, but hell was so violently painful. And that was what he was offering her. If she married Pete she would have security, a name, a family, a home—and probably boredom. That was one thing that could never be said of Jacey. He had always kept her charged up like an overheated engine.

  She looked around and saw the alternatives life was offering her! She could leave both of them, start again—a new dawn, as Jacey had once said. But that would be as cold and lonely as her life before Jacey, and she knew she wouldn't be able to do it.

  She could marry Pete and be secure but restless. Or she could marry Jacey and plunge herself on a possible path to destruction. But life without him had been so miserable, so painful.

  Her mind was so confused that
all she could do was writhe in torment until dawn broke, and sleep claimed her, still undecided, still lost in confusion.

  The bell woke her. She blinked, her eyes heavy, then sat up, her heart thudding fast. Jumping out of bed, she slipped her wrap on and ran downstairs to answer the door.

  Jacey stood outside, looking dangerously sexy in a dark suit, the waistcoat tight on his lean hard stomach, his shirt open at the neck to expose his brown throat. Louisa felt her mouth go dry with longing.

  She shivered, suddenly shy in front of him. Pulling her robe together, she said, 'I haven't made up my mind.' She felt herself tremble with nerves. 'I need more time.'

  His face tightened. 'Too bad,' he said harshly, towering over her with a distinct air of menace. 'You don't have time. Either decide now or we forget the whole thing.'

  Louisa's frown was pained. 'Please,' she said softly, eyes pleading.

  Jacey gave a harsh impatient sigh. 'I'll wait in the car,' he muttered, and turned on his heel. He shot a look at her over his shoulder as he walked. 'Be down in ten minutes.'

  Louisa closed the door and climbed the stairs to her flat with a heavy heart. The triangle had closed in on her suddenly, and she had no idea how to fight her way out of it. The change in Jacey was almost beyond belief.

  She dressed quickly in tight jeans and a white blouse, brushing her hair quickly and applying eyeliner, mascara and lipstick before going downstairs.

  She hesitated, her body tense, then opened the front door and went into the street.

  The car door swung open, the engine purring like a thoroughbred cat; sleek, black, its coat glistening in the early morning sunlight. She slid in beside Jacey in the front seat.

  The car shot away smoothly, and she slid a tentative glance at him. His face was outlined harshly against the blue-grey sky, the line of cheek and jaw assertive, freshly shaven. Louisa bit her lip and looked away, and they drove on in silence.

  As they turned into the driveway of his house a while later, Louisa looked up apprehensively. The great white stone walls seemed to loom as though it was a prison. She had no wish to become a bird in a gilded cage.