That Devil Love

by Lee Wilkinson

  ‘That’s right…’ By the time Stephen had given him the exact location they were turning into Elwood Place, a quiet street in Mayfair lined with elegant houses.

  When they drew up outside the porticoed entrance of number fifteen, Helen smiled and said a pleasant goodnight to them both before getting out.

  Displaying his usual courtesy, Zan accompanied her to the door. When he bent his dark head to kiss her cheek, she put her arms around him and kissed him back with obvious affection.

  It was a comparatively short drive to where Stephen lived. When he got out, with a reckless determination to rile Zan Annis followed him on to the snowy pavement.

  Standing on tiptoe to touch her lips to his, she said, ‘Goodnight, and thank you, darling.’

  He looked as startled and delighted as a man who had come into riches beyond his wildest dreams.

  When she got back into the car, Zan’s face was as black as thunder. ‘Fasten your seatbelt,’ he ordered brusquely, and drove on, his mouth a thin, angry line.

  Suddenly doubting the wisdom of her action, Annis leaned back against the head-rest and closed her eyes.

  A finger flicking her cheek aroused her and she sat up, half stupefied, to find they were outside Fairfield Court.

  ‘Where’s your key?’ Zan asked curtly.

  Remembering his furious face when she’d kissed Stephen, she cravenly found herself wishing she hadn’t deliberately provoked him.

  ‘There’s really no need for you to get out.’

  Ignoring her uneasy protest, he made a swift search through her bag and located her key. ‘Wait here.’

  She followed him a moment later, shivering as soon as the wind whipped round her.

  He turned on the fire and drew the curtains before helping her out of her silver fun-fur. Then, looming tall and dark and overpowering in the small room, he said coldly, ‘I should put you over my knee for that little piece of bravado.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she muttered.

  ‘You know perfectly well what I mean. I’m aware you only did it to annoy me, but you shouldn’t have raised the poor devil’s hopes like that, when it’s obvious that you don’t care a jot for him.’

  ‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong! I do care.’

  ‘Only in as far as it affects your brother.’

  Seeing her freeze, he asked silkily, ‘Did you think I wasn’t aware how Leighton has been propping him up? Covering for him? It’s common knowledge. I’ve known for weeks.’

  Annis gazed at him with horrified eyes.

  He smiled mirthlessly, and she found herself abstractedly noting the excellence of his mouth and teeth.

  ‘I also know, despite the fact that he’s a married man with a family, how you still tend to worry about him, mother him…’

  ‘But how could you know?’ she protested. ‘Until last night you’d never set eyes on me.’

  He shook his head. ‘I saw you about three weeks ago. You came to Leighton’s office when he was working late one evening. Then you walked out together and got into his car. I made some enquiries, found out who you were…’

  Her heart missed a beat, then went racing on as she realised he’d spoken too casually to mean what she’d thought he meant.

  ‘I hoped very much that he would bring you to the party. If he hadn’t, I would have had to think up some other way of meeting you.’

  Her head throbbing, her legs feeling as if they might buckle under her, Annis dropped into the nearest chair.

  Studying the mauve shadows like bruises beneath her eyes, the translucent skin stretched tight over delicate bones, the faint dew of perspiration on her upper lip, Zan remarked, ‘You look terrible.’ Towering over her, he put a cool hand on her burning forehead. ‘I think you’re coming down with flu.’

  She jerked away and muttered, ‘Don’t touch me.’ Then, at the end of her tether, ‘I wish you’d go. Leave me alone. Stay away from me permanently.’

  His lips took on a wry slant. ‘I can’t stay away from you any more than I can stop breathing.’

  Tilting her chin, he looked deep into her cloudy eyes. ‘I intend to break down those defences, melt the ice you’ve surrounded yourself with, make you want me as much as I want you.’

  There was a dark, brooding passion in his face, a relentless purpose that made her shiver.

  ‘You’re wasting your time,’ she told him raggedly. ‘There’s no way I’ll ever feel like that about you.’

  Apparently unperturbed, he said, ‘You already feel more strongly about me than you do about Leighton.’

  She jumped to her feet. ‘That’s quite true. I’m fond of Stephen. You I hate. Now will you get out? I never want to see you again.’

  ‘That might be difficult as you’re working for me.’

  ‘I’m not. Not any longer. If you really need help, on Monday I’ll send you a competent secretary, but that’s…’

  The phone shrilled through her words.

  Reaching out, Zan picked it up and answered with a brisk, ‘Yes?’

  After a moment he handed her the receiver.

  She gave him a furious look and, taking a deep, calming breath said, ‘Hello?’

  ‘Thank God you’re back…’ Richard sounded distraught. ‘I’ve been trying to get you for over an hour. I’m at the General Hospital…’ He made a sound halfway between a sob and a groan.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Annis demanded in sudden fear. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘Linda tripped and fell downstairs. She has a broken arm and there may be internal injuries… The shock caused her to go into labour, but they said it might be hours yet…’

  Annis could have wept for her brown-haired, blue-eyed sister-in-law, pretty as a picture and not twenty-one until next month.

  ‘Mrs Duffy is with the twins, but her husband works nights and she needs to get back to her own family.’

  ‘I’ll go straight over,’ Annis said through stiff lips. ‘Try not to worry too much. Everything will be all right, I know it will.’

  Shaking from head to foot, she depressed the receiver rest, then released it again to call the taxi-rank.

  Before she’d put in the first digit, Zan, who’d been standing close enough to hear both sides of the conversation, took the receiver from her hand and replaced it.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she cried. ‘I need a taxi to get to Notting Hill.’

  ‘I’ll take you.’

  ‘I don’t want you to take me,’ she cried fiercely. ‘I don’t need you or your help.’

  ‘Don’t be a fool, Annis,’ he said shortly. ‘You’re about out on your feet.’

  ‘I’ll manage,’ she declared stonily.

  ‘You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met!’ He turned off the gas fire, then dropping her coat around her shoulders fairly hustled her out of the flat and across the snowy forecourt to his car.

  ‘Whereabouts in Notting Hill?’ he asked, as he pushed her in and took his place beside her.

  Feeling harassed to death, unable to fight any longer, she told him, and let him remove the safety belt from her fumbling fingers and click it into place.

  Resting her pounding head against the soft grey leather of the seat, she prayed silently, feverishly, please let Linda and the baby be all right.

  Despite her anxiety she must have dozed again, because when she opened her eyes they were drawing up outside the end-of-terrace villa that Linda and Richard had bought just before the recession sent house prices tumbling.

  Snowflakes swirled around them, and her feet, inadequately clad in suede court shoes, were wet and cold before they reached the glass-panelled door.

  A plump, dark-haired, flustered-looking woman in her middle thirties answered the knock promptly and exclaimed, ‘Oh it’s you, Miss Warrener! What a relief! They’re both awake. You can probably hear them crying…’

  ‘I’m sorry I’ve been so long getting here.’ Annis’s voice was croaky.

  Mrs Duffy pulled on her coat. ‘
Well, now you are here I’d best be off. My own kids are ten and twelve, but I still don’t like to leave them in the house on their own.’

  ‘It’s very good of you to have stayed so long,’ Annis said gratefully.

  ‘Can I take you home?’ Zan offered.

  Looking gratified, she said, ‘Thanks, but I only live next door.’

  The crying, which had temporarily abated, was resumed, rising to a crescendo as Annis hurried up the stairs.

  When she reached the narrow landing, all at once feeling sick and light-headed, she staggered a little and was forced to lean against the nearest wall.

  Zan’s fingers encircled her wrist, keeping her there while he checked her pulse rate.

  ‘Let me be,’ she tried to shake off his detaining hand. ‘I’m going to see to the twins.’

  ‘You’re doing nothing of the kind,’ he corrected firmly. ‘Firstly, you’re not up to it—’ while he was speaking he was opening doors ‘—and secondly, you don’t want to risk them catching any infection.’

  She could see the sense in that, all the same…

  ‘Ah…this looks like the spare room.’ He propelled her inside. ‘Now you’re going to get into bed and I’ll bring you some hot milk.’

  ‘But what about…?’

  ‘I’ll deal with the twins.’

  And he probably could. He appeared to be able to deal with anything.

  The combination of illness and emotional strain making her feel too spent to battle any longer, she stripped down to her undies and, climbing into bed, sat shivering.

  In just a few minutes Zan returned carrying a couple of hot water bottles, and a tray with a beaker of milk and two red plastic feeding cups.

  Having settled her with a hot water bottle behind her back and another at her feet, he put the beaker and two aspirin tablets on the bedside table before vanishing again.

  She was just wondering anxiously how the twins would react to a strange man appearing in the nursery when, as if by magic, the crying stopped.

  Sipping the hot milk, which had been liberally laced with brandy, she listened to the murmur of Zan’s voice and thought bitterly how easy he seemed to find it to charm females of any age.

  As soon as the beaker was empty she lay down, and within seconds was sound asleep.

  Annis surfaced slowly and reluctantly to find her bedroom was full of snowy light. Only it wasn’t her bedroom…

  The events of the previous night rushed in like a tidal wave, and she sat up abruptly.

  As soon as the room stopped spinning, she struggled out of bed and peered into the nursery. Both cots were empty.

  Snatching a robe from behind the bathroom door, she went downstairs as fast as her shaky legs would allow.

  No one was in the living-room, but a pillow and a neatly folded blanket suggested Zan had slept on the couch.

  The smell of toast and coffee directed her to the kitchen.

  Showered, shaved, immaculately—if a shade inappropriately—dressed, and clearly in command of the situation, Zan was putting boiled eggs into Beatrix Potter egg-cups.

  Strapped in their high chairs, Rachel and Rebecca, models of rectitude, and as alike as two peas in a pod, contentedly spooned up their breakfast cereal.

  ‘Hello, darlings.’ Not wanting to get too close, she blew them a kiss.

  Rachel, always the more solemn of the two, stared at her round-eyed, while Rebecca smiled and crowed and dribbled ground rice and apricots down her chin.

  ‘Good morning.’ Zan gave Annis a smile that stopped her breath as effectively as a silken noose. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’

  ‘Fine,’ she muttered untruthfully.

  He set a mug full of milky coffee on the table and pulled out a chair for her. ‘You look as if you need to sit down.’

  ‘First I must phone the hospital.’

  ‘I’ve just been talking to them. Your sister-in-law is as well as can be expected. She’s suffering from shock, but they don’t think the internal injuries are too severe.’

  Annis’s pale lips framed the almost inaudible question, ‘And the baby?’

  ‘You’ve got a brand new nephew, born safely an hour ago.’

  The relief was so great that Annis sat down abruptly and burst into tears.

  A folded handkerchief was put into her hand.

  While she dried her eyes and blew her nose, Zan added evenly, ‘I’ve assured your brother that everything is all right at this end, so he’s going to stay at the hospital… Now, do you feel up to some toast?’

  Gulping the milky coffee gratefully, she shook her head.

  ‘Then as soon as Mrs Sheldon arrives I propose to take you home to bed.’

  ‘Who’s Mrs Sheldon?’

  ‘She’s an ex-nurse and a very competent nanny. I’ve borrowed her from Helen, whose family, though still young, no longer really need her. She’ll look after the twins for the time being.’

  ‘But Linda and Richard can’t afford a nanny,’ Annis protested.

  ‘That’s all taken care of.’ There was a knock, and he added, ‘Ah, this sounds like her now.’

  He returned after a moment or so with a neatly dressed, pleasant-faced woman in her forties.

  When he’d made the introductions, Mrs Sheldon said cheerfully, ‘Now don’t you worry, Miss Warrener. I’ll take care of everything.’

  Feeling like death, Annis gave in and made her way upstairs to get dressed, recognising that even if she could manage to look after the twins it was in their best interest that she shouldn’t.

  But someone was paying Mrs Sheldon, and the very last thing she wanted was for any of her family to be in Zan Power’s debt.

  CHAPTER THREE

  IN LESS than half an hour Zan was escorting her into her own flat, and a few minutes later she was tucked up with a hot water bottle listening to him drive away.

  After her earlier charged dealings with him, it had been almost an anticlimax when, brisk and practical, he’d said, ‘Have a few days in bed. I won’t expect you at work before Monday week.’ Then, with a kiss as light as thistledown, ‘Take care of yourself, Annis.’

  She slept most of the day, and it was early evening when she was awakened by the phone.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Richard’s voice asked anxiously.

  ‘Much better,’ she assured him, and heard his sigh of relief. ‘How is Linda?’

  ‘A lot more comfortable, and the baby’s doing well. He was nearly seven pounds and…’ Richard filled in the details of his son’s birth, before going on, ‘It’s such a relief to know that everything is being taken care of and I can stay with her. This nursing home is marvellous…’

  ‘Nursing home?’ Annis echoed blankly.

  ‘Oh, didn’t you know? Early this afternoon Linda was transferred to Carlton Heights private nursing home… The facilities are first class. There’s a nice sitting-room and I’ve got a bedroom and en-suite bathroom…’

  ‘But how can you possibly afford a private nursing home?’ Annis asked dazedly.

  ‘I don’t have to. Mr Power’s paying for everything. It was his suggestion. In fact he made all the arrangements, the same as he did over the children’s nanny…’

  Annis felt as though a bottomless pit had opened up at her feet. Urgently, she demanded, ‘Have you stopped to wonder why he’s doing all this?’

  ‘It seems he’s a philanthropist, especially where his staff and their families are concerned…

  ‘He sent Linda a special delivery of flowers and said if there’s anything she needs I only have to let him know. He’s been absolutely marvellous…!’

  When Richard finally finished singing his boss’s praises, Annis put the phone down, filled with an apprehension that bordered on dread.

  Zan Power, she was convinced, never did anything without a reason, and she couldn’t believe it was a philanthropic one.

  She spent the next few days quietly at home, eating scarcely anything, but taking flu-relief tablets and sleeping a lot. />
  Though she tried not to worry about the future, not to think about Zan, his dark presence was always there shadowing her mind, even while she slept. And she wondered dully if she would ever be free of him again.

  She kept in touch with Carlton Heights by phone. Both Linda and the baby were making good progress and, using the nursing home as a base, Richard was now going in to work each day.

  Every morning Zan sent fresh, passion-dark crimson roses, which she promptly gave away, but as though allowing her a breathing space he neither came to the flat nor phoned. For which small mercies she was truly thankful.

  Discovering she was ill, Stephen rang and sent flowers but was with some difficulty dissuaded from visiting.

  Sheila Collingford had taken over Annis’s work. As well as organising Help, on Monday morning, as requested, she’d presented herself at Blair Electronics.

  Much to her disappointment—‘I really fancied working for a gorgeous hunk like him! Ooh, those eyes!’—Zan had politely but decidedly refused to have her, saying he’d wait until Annis was well enough to go in.

  He’d have a long wait! she thought grimly.

  Saturday morning, feeling almost herself again, Annis decided it was safe to visit Linda. She donned a smart black and white suit and, her blonde hair drawn back from her face, unconsciously emphasising the hollow cheeks and delicate bone-structure, sallied forth.

  The nursing home was near St James’s and, the weather having turned mild and sunny, she decided to walk.

  Freshly opened daffodils and narcissus clustered in window-boxes. On the trees the first buds were about to burst, and along the fringes of the park drifts of colourful crocuses bloomed.

  A well-spoken middle-aged receptionist directed her to the Warreners’ flower-filled suite, which was on the ground floor overlooking a smooth expanse of green lawn.

  Wearing a yellow frilly dressing-gown and slippers, her sister-in-law was sitting in an armchair by the window. Despite the plaster cast on her right arm, she looked so well that, temporarily forgetting her anxiety, Annis’s heart lifted.