Stranger in the Night

by Charlotte Lamb

  Clare covered her face with her trembling hands. Now that Macey had gone she was so shaken she felt she was actually ill. The strain of those moments when Macey was out of control had taken their toll. She was exhausted by the effort of keeping him at bay.

  He was right, of course; she had driven him to do that. The subconscious drive which was dominating her had flicked him into making love to her only to desert her when Macey became too passionate.

  Macey might not despise her, but Clare despised herself. One moment she had been trembling with hungry response, the next she had been torn out of that yielding pleasure to find terror possessing her mind.

  They ought to part before something snapped inside Macey's head. Clare had felt strongly a few moments ago that Macey wasn't going to be stopped this time. His body had pulsated with violent sexual energy. He had dragged himself back from the edge, but she was under no illusion about what that effort had cost him.

  It wasn't fair to Macey to let this state of affairs go on much longer.

  She was angry with herself for her own confusion, for the muddled feelings which were making her be-have so selfishly and irrationally. Yet she could not make sense of those tangled emotions or decipher the movements of her own heart.

  Macey wasn't Luke Murry. Even when he was violently angry just now he hadn't actually gone on to force her to submit to him. He had half threatened it. She knew the desire had been raging inside him. But Macey had not allowed himself to get completely out of control. He had somehow imposed his own will on the frenzy dominating him and he had gone just now, leaving her, although that last look of his had held a desire which could make her feel weak even in memory.

  Clare lay in the tumbled bed watching moonlight fingering the walls, a frown growing on her face.

  Was it just that, then? Was she just frightened of the actual moment of possession because of the ruthless violence with which that other man had taken her?

  Every time she felt that moment approaching, something went wild inside her head.

  What did she actually feel about Macey himself, though? Had she confused her long affection for him with the surfacing of sexual desire inside herself? Was she allowing her passion to turn towards Macey because her buried instincts told her it was safer with him than with some stranger? Luke Murry had been a stranger met by chance in the night and he had wrecked her life. She would not want that happening again. She sensed she would look for security when she next chanced a gamble with love, and who could be safer than a man she had known for years?

  She twisted on to her flushed face, the slide of her naked body on the sheet oddly disturbing.

  It was insulting to Macey to feel like that. No wonder his blue eyes had been filled with rage once or twice. He had known what was going on inside her head, no doubt. He had guessed why she had turned to him. She was insulting him by even letting the idea enter her head. No man likes to be regarded as 'safe'. She was tacitly telling Macey that she would let him kiss her, caress her, but he couldn't go any further because she only wanted a safe experiment with him. She did not want to be swept away from her safe little refuge. Macey was right to be angry with her.

  Macey wasn't safe at all, she thought drowsily. Those hard blue eyes were the very opposite of safe. Tonight they had bored into her and forced her to see that for herself. She had resisted with panic for a while, but the panic had ebbed.

  Clare yawned, her body warm and relaxed now. Macey was—her mind halted, unable to frame the thought. Clare slept.

  CHAPTER TEN

  They were eating their lunch next day when Rowena and Ray arrived. Macey flung down his napkin and grimaced at the ring of the door bell. They knew who had arrived. Rowena's high bell voice rang out too clearly not to be recognised.

  'Ray drove me,' she said, sweeping into the room a moment later. 'We felt like visiting. Oh, you're eating !' She somehow made that sound like an accusation and to Clare's fury she found herself apologising, as though she felt guilty to be caught in such a despicable act.

  Rowena smiled on her flushed face and turned away to survey the room. 'Charming,' she congratulated them. 'But rather cluttered, isn't it?'

  Clare wasn't sure what that meant. She hurriedly began carrying the food away while Macey watched with dry amusement as his lunch vanished from sight half-eaten.

  Clare returned from the kitchen in a temper to find Rowena, Ray and Macey out on the terrace. Rowena was now sipping a drink and eyeing the View appraisingly. 'You aren't very convenient for the sea, are you?'

  'We've got the pool,' Macey told her.

  Rowena gave it a glance. 'Yes,' she agreed doubtfully. 'That must be useful.'

  Ray was holding her glass and saying nothing, her dark gaze fixed on the distant sea. She was very elegant in a dusky pink dress which looked expensive and suited her colouring.

  Clare was wearing very brief shorts which left her long brown legs exposed. Her halter-necked top was tied at the midriff in a casual bow. The golden expanse of skin gleamed as she moved and Rowena looked at it with smiling distaste.

  'Macey, have you thought of act three?' she said, going into the attack with calm disregard of preliminaries. 'That first scene won't do, you know. It hasn't any real heart. It's… mechanical.' She smiled at him coaxingly. 'Do you know, I think we ought to read the script over together, really get to grips with it, see what we can do to… smooth out the lumps.'

  Macey didn't give a flicker of expression. 'Nothing could please me more, Rowena, when I get back to London. We'll have a session together, smooth out every lump we can find.'

  Rowena opened her mouth to protest and Macey went on calmly: 'I've got this rule, you see. I never work on holiday. It doesn't do, don't you agree, to mix business with pleasure? I'm sure you feel the same. When we're all back in London, Rowena. Then we can really turn our minds to it.'

  She looked at him, her thin lips tight. 'Just as you say, Macey, of course.'

  She was furious, but Macey's unmoved smile defied her. Ray lifted her glass and drank the pale liquid it held. Clare watched her, admiring her looks as she always did.

  Undeflected, Rowena was saying: 'In the meantime you could just think about scene one in that third act. What it needs is a little injection of pathos, don't you agree?'

  Bells rang in Clare's head. That was one of her big scenes. And Rowena's character wasn't even on stage. Oh, no, Clare thought, she isn't sneaking herself into my scene and stealing it. Little injection of pathos, in-deed. What she means is a great big injection of Rowena. Not likely!

  'I'll certainly think it over,' Macey returned without showing any particular sign of agreement.

  Rowena had to be satisfied with that. She knew when to leave the field of battle. She wandered up the terrace, saying: 'What amazing roses—this is wonderful country for flowers. They really know how to grow them around here.'

  Clare glanced after her, half smiling. When she looked back Ray had swivelled towards Macey and was talking to him in a low, husky voice. 'Be patient with her. I know it must be irritating, but she doesn't mean to behave badly.'

  Macey looked down at her, the hard curve of his face turned towards Clare. 'Don't worry, Ray. I wouldn't hurt a hair on her head, devil that she is.' He smiled and Clare saw the look in Ray's eyes at that quick, warm smile.

  'Thank you,' said Ray, half smiling back, her face flushing.

  Macey shifted slightly, his smile going. Clare knew why he looked away. She watched Ray as Macey glanced along the terrace towards Rowena's absent pottering around the flowers. Ray looked at Macey and her dark eyes burned before her lashes drooped to hide the expression.

  Clare's throat was hot and tight. My God, she's completely crazy about him, she thought, and at that instant a jagged certainty went through her own mind.

  She walked back into the house and continued tidying the room. She heard the others talking outside for another quarter of an hour before Rowena came marching in to say goodbye to her. Ray drifted after her, the sultry
dark hair hiding her face. She muttered something polite to Clare and went after her aunt.

  Macey saw them off and came back to eye Clare with enquiry. 'You aren't angry with her, are you?'

  I'm furious, Clare thought, but then realised that Macey had not meant what she had thought he meant He was asking her if she was angry with Rowena, and it was Ray who had made her stiff with abrupt jealousy and hostility.

  She flushed. 'No, of course not. She's just manoeuvring.' She paused, then added drily, 'But she isn't getting any of my big scenes!'

  Macey laughed. 'Don't fret about that—I've no intention of letting her. If Rowena had her way she would unbalance my play. She'll have the part I wrote for her and nothing more. Rowena's incapable of understanding the necessity of interplay between characters, so there's no point in my explaining to her that if she takes a bit from here and a bit from there, the whole play will come crashing down on her head. She's just going to have to do what she's told.'

  Clare smiled, a wry little movement of her lips. 'I can't wait for the day we start rehearsal!'

  'Fireworks,' Macey agreed, his eyes amused. 'She's a wicked old thing, but I find her exciting to work with —that's how she's managed to climb to the top. Quite apart from being a brilliant actress she has dais amazing magnetism. She didn't need looks. Fate unfairly handed her every ace in the pack, didn't it? I should imagine that close contact with her ate up Ray's personality long ago.'

  Clare lowered her eyes, feeling again that strange sharp pain. Ray had made her feel pity in the past. She had made her feel uncomfortable. She had never made her feel jealous before. Clare knew Macey didn't find Ray attractive—why should she have felt that odd little pain when she watched Ray looking at him with those passionate, dark eyes?

  'If you're still hungry I could get us something else to eat,' she said huskily.

  Macey gave her a curious, puzzled look. He had picked up the odd feelings inside her, but he didn't know what to make of them. For once Macey did not have a bird's eye view of what was happening inside her, and Clare was glad about that.

  'No, don't bother for me,' he returned. 'Go ahead if you're hungry, though.'

  'No,' she said. She couldn't have eaten a thing. She was feeling too tense and confused.

  She went out into the garden and lay in the sun. Why had Ray made her feel so angry? Clare knew why. Her pulses were drumming and her ears were deafened with the singing of her own blood.

  She had always felt uneasy when she watched Ray looking at Macey in that helpless, unhidden passion, but just now she had felt more than that. She had felt like walking between them, turning to Ray and saying : 'Don't look at him like that. He belongs to me.' Macey had belonged to her for so long she hadn't even known it. Kay wouldn't look at him like that if he was married. She thought that the fact that Clare and Macey weren't married or even living together meant that Macey was free.

  Macey was not free. Clare stared fixedly at the blue sky, her body tense. One fact was crystal clear now. Only love could explain the agonising lance of jealousy which had thrust through her as she saw Macey smiling at Ray, saw Ray looking at him so passionately. Clare could not bear the idea of Macey with another woman. The idea of him kissing someone else sent waves of violent pain round her body.

  She felt restless, frightened, by her own emotions. Her heart was being shaken by a tumult which left her breathless.

  Macey came and flung himself down in the lounger beside hers and Clare closed her eyes to disguise the state of her feelings from him. Macey seemed relaxed, so relaxed that very soon she became aware that Macey was actually asleep.

  His long body lay in total relaxation, his lips parted, his jawline yielding to sleep. Clare watched him intensely, astonished by the fierce stabbing pleasure it gave her to look at him.

  She could not sleep herself. She was physically and mentally exhausted, but her mind was too awake to let go of consciousness. She watched Macey while the afternoon wore on in a golden haze, and he slept like Rip Van Winkle, dead to the world.

  Dusk began to fall in a pale thickening pall over sea and sky. Clare crept indoors and began to prepare an evening meal. It was a good half an hour before Macey followed her, yawning, flushed and stretching as he stared at her from the doorway.

  'My God, why did you let me sleep like that?'

  'You must have been tired,' she commented, putting the finishing touches to their meal.

  'I was flat out,' he agreed, and his eyes slid mockingly sideways. 'I haven't been sleeping too well lately.'

  Her flush rewarded his teasing.

  'You'd better wash. I thought we'd just have cold chicken and salad.'

  'Fine,' he agreed, turning to go.

  Tonight he wasn't insisting that they go out, and Clare's pulses rattled nervously as she considered that.

  'I'll open some wine,' said Macey when he came back a few minutes later. He had taken a quick shower, obviously, his dark hair was damp and stiff. He had changed into jeans and a shirt, too. Clare had done the same earlier before she got the meal.

  Macey opened the bottle of white wine which Clare had already placed in the refrigerator. It was just cool enough. Macey filled her glass and sat down, smiling at her across the table.

  Clare's flushed face and shifting eyes made him frown suddenly. 'Don't look at me like that,' he accused. 'Stop trembling.'

  'I'm not,' she denied, her mouth dry.

  Macey's brows shot up. 'No?' He didn't believe her, his face derisive.

  She shook her head. 'Taste the chicken, it's delicious.' She was not able to hold his eyes and she couldn't hide that from him.

  Macey shrugged and started eating. 'Rowena will come to terms with the facts of life,' he remarked. 'She's just an old piranha, stripping every ounce of flesh she can.'

  'And a great actress,' Clare agreed lightly. 'It will be an education just working with her.'

  'You can say that again,' Macey agreed drily. 'When you've done a few months with Rowena you'll be proof against anything.'

  She pretended to laugh. 'Poor Rowena!' Keeping her eyes on her plate, she added: 'Ray's inherited some of her talent, don't you agree?'

  'A pale imitation,' Macey nodded casually.

  'No more?'

  Macey was finishing his salad. After a moment he said: 'Ray is too repressed.'

  Clare laughed flatly. 'I wouldn't say that.' Ray didn't repress anything when Macey was around; she flaunted her feelings for him to see.

  'As an actress,' Macey bit out, and Clare looked up, her face very flushed.

  'Oh. Of course.'

  Macey stared at her and suddenly his blue eyes were narrowing, growing hard and watchful. Clare looked away from the probe of them. She refused to let him see what she was feeling until she was ready. Macey wasn't walking in and out of her head for the rest of her life.

  'Sexually she's very far from repressed,' Macey commented, still watching her.

  Clare didn't reply to that. Her eyes stayed on her plate.

  'She shows everything,' Macey said in a hard cold voice.

  'Especially when you're around.'

  His hand shot over the table and grappled with her wrist. Clare stood up, startled. He came round the table and looked down into her face, his stare intent.

  'O.K., what's going on now?'

  'What?' she asked in a husky voice, evading his stare.

  'We both know the score where Ray's concerned. I've never given her a shred of encouragement. Why the undertone in that last remark?'

  She tugged at her imprisoned wrist. 'You're hurting!'

  Macey took her chin in one hand and forced her head up. 'Let me see your eyes, Clare.'

  'Why?' she asked furiously. 'I don't want you to see my eyes.'

  She shut them defiantly and heard Macey laughing without any real humour.

  'I know you don't. That's always a sure sign that you're hiding something. What is it now, Clare? What new problem have you come up with?'

  She flared in self
-defence, twisting her chin from his hand, 'Why can't you leave me alone?'

  Macey stiffened. 'Is that what you want, Clare? Do you want to see the back of me?'

  The harsh tone made her body clench in pain. Her eyes flew to his face, wide and anxious. 'No,' she said huskily before she could stop herself.

  Macey drew an unsteady breath. 'For God's sake, make up your mind! This on-off policy of yours is sending me haywire. Take me or leave me, Clare, but make it positive soon or I'll do something we'll both regret.'

  She lowered her lashes again, trembling, a faint smile curving her mouth. 'Such as?'

  Macey was silent so long she looked up at him. He was staring at her fixedly, his blue eyes wild. 'Such as carry you into the bedroom and do what I've been dying to do for seven years.'

  Clare hesitated for another few seconds before she burnt her bridges. Dry-mouthed she whispered, 'I love you.'

  Macey didn't move. For a second she thought he wasn't even breathing He just stared at her, tense and still, as if he didn't believe his own ears.

  His hands came up and closed on her shoulders. 'Say it again. Clare, do you mean it?'

  'I love you and yes, I mean it,' she said shakily.

  Macey closed his eyes briefly, then his mouth sought and found her own in a fierce, hungry movement. Clare's hand lay against his chest. She heard his heart pounding underneath her palm, striking up into her skin so that she felt the pulse of his blood becoming the pulse of her own. The craving for physical satisfaction became extreme as their kiss deepened. Clare moaned under the demanding pressure of his lips, shuddering with pleasure.

  Macey lifted his head at last and looked at her dazedly, his eyes sleepy. 'My God, I love you,' he whispered. 'I've waited a lifetime. I thought sometimes I'd go crazy. The worst part was knowing you hadn't a clue what you did to me. You'd lean over me and I'd have to look casually unconcerned when every instinct I had was clamouring to grab you.'

  She was incredulous at her own stupidity. 'You're too good an actor, darling,' she half smiled.

  'My God, I'm the world's best,' Macey agreed modestly.