That Devil Love

by Lee Wilkinson

  Smiling, Linda invited, ‘Come and see your new nephew.’

  Peering into the cot, Annis saw the baby was wide awake, dark blue eyes gazing up, tiny pink starfish hands waving.

  A strange tug at her heart, she smiled mistily at the scrap and said softly, ‘Hello there…’

  Watching proudly, Linda remarked, ‘He’s already got a look of Richard, don’t you think?’

  Unable to detect any likeness to anyone in the crumpled baby face, Annis agreed nevertheless, and, taking a seat in one of the well-padded chairs, asked, ‘What are you going to call him?’

  ‘We thought Alexander…’

  ‘Alexander?’ Annis hoped her shock didn’t show.

  ‘Yes, after Richard’s boss. He’s been absolutely terrific, paying for all this…’ she waved her good hand ‘…and Mrs Sheldon’s wonderful with the twins…she brings them in every day to see me…’

  Linda’s blue eyes suddenly filled with tears. ‘You can’t imagine what a blessing it was to have everything taken care of. I just don’t know how we’d have managed if Mr Power hadn’t stepped in.

  ‘Of course we’ve still got problems, but it was a great relief when Alex was born safely…and I’m making excellent progress now.’

  ‘How long before you can go home?’ Annis asked, trying to conceal her real feelings and sound in good spirits.

  ‘A few days… I don’t know for sure until the doctor’s done his rounds.’ The pretty face clouded. ‘Only that’s one of the problems. I may not have a home to go back to. You know we fell badly behind on the mortgage repayments? Well, we heard yesterday morning that the bank was going to repossess the house…’

  Annis stared at her, the news like a hammer blow.

  ‘Richard’s been trying to find somewhere to rent. Somewhere we can afford, that is. And Mr Power’s promised to see what he can do, but I don’t hold out much hope…’

  ‘O, ye of little faith…’ The words were light and bantering, the low-pitched voice—with its slight but fascinating accent—one that Annis could have picked out from a million other voices.

  Momentarily everything seemed to stop, her heartbeat, her breathing, her thought processes…

  Then, like a swimmer who had stayed underwater too long, she dragged air into her lungs and felt her heart begin to pound with slow, heavy thuds.

  Sitting perfectly still, her back to the speaker, she saw Linda’s blue eyes light up with something akin to worship. ‘Oh, Mr Power…’

  ‘So how are you feeling today?’ he asked gently.

  ‘Quite a lot better,’ she assured him. Then, to Annis, ‘Mr Power calls in every day to see how I am.’

  ‘How kind of him.’ The cool words successfully disguised the storm of fear and hatred raging within.

  Though Annis refused to turn her head and look at him, she was intensely aware of the tall figure standing close by.

  ‘And you, Annis…?’ His fingertip stroked the vulnerable nape of her neck in a brief yet possessive caress. ‘How are you?’

  Somehow she forced herself to answer, ‘Up and about, as you can see.’ But in her own ears her voice sounded hoarse and strange.

  ‘Won’t you sit down?’ Linda asked, glancing from one to another, as though expecting to see the electricity that charged the air between them.

  Taking the chair opposite Annis, Zan stretched his long legs with easy grace—Jason personified, with his shorn black curls, his lean, strong-boned face and cleft chin.

  He was wearing a dark green polo-necked sweater and light beige trousers and jacket. It was the first time she’d seen him casually dressed, and he looked coolly elegant and hatefully attractive.

  After studying the perfect oval of her face, he remarked, ‘You’ve lost weight, and you’re much too pale.’

  In spite of all her efforts to the contrary, her gaze was drawn to his. The lick of flame in his handsome eyes set every nerve in her body quivering.

  Needing to say something, she objected jerkily, ‘I never have much colour.’

  Softly, he said, ‘Yet I can just imagine how you look with your cheeks flushed, your hair tousled and tumbled round your shoulders…’

  As though he’d beamed the picture into her mind, she saw herself lying in his arms, eyes slumbrous, lips parted, feverish and breathless from his lovemaking. Wanting more.

  Feeling her face grow hot, she moved uncomfortably, and glanced at her sister-in-law.

  Linda was watching the interplay with a mixture of curiosity and startled comprehension that made Annis know she was presuming a deeper acquaintance, a relationship that didn’t exist.

  Something that Zan had meant her to presume.

  As Annis opened her mouth to deny that impression, Richard hurried in, surrounded by an aura of energy and excitement.

  When he’d greeted the two visitors—Annis warmly, Zan with respect—he went over to kiss his wife and take a quick peep at his infant son before dropping into a chair.

  Tall and very fair, with clear-cut features and eyes of the same fascinating colour and shape as his sister’s, his face hadn’t as yet acquired the strength of character that made hers so much more than merely beautiful.

  ‘I take it everything’s gone smoothly?’ Zan queried.

  ‘Like clockwork,’ Richard said eagerly.

  ‘Then I suggest you set your wife’s mind at rest without delay.’

  A flush of exhilaration lying along his high cheekbones, the words tumbling over themselves, Richard rushed into speech. ‘Mr Power has found us a super house not far from Hyde Park. It has four big bedrooms and a lovely light nursery, as well as a good-sized garden…’

  The jubilant announcement filled Annis with dread. Once she’d seen a film of a tornado, seen how it sucked up and engulfed everything in its path. She’d been terrified of such destructive force.

  Now Zan was taking over all their lives with the same deadly speed…

  Through stiff lips, she demurred, ‘Wouldn’t the rent for that kind of place be way beyond your means?’

  ‘Normally it would,’ Richard agreed. ‘But it’s so exactly what we need and—’

  ‘I own quite a bit of property in and around London,’ Zan intervened smoothly. ‘But Rydal Lodge was standing empty, and it seemed ideal for two reasons. It’s nice and central and its accommodation includes a self-contained flat for a nanny.’

  ‘But Linda and Richard won’t have a nanny,’ Annis said sharply.

  Zan met and held her glance. ‘Mrs Sheldon is more than happy to stay on.’

  Before Annis could open her mouth to object, he added, his tone reasonable, ‘There’s no way Mrs Warrener is going to be able to take care of a baby and the twins with a broken arm. Even when the plaster’s off, she’ll need help for a while at least.’

  It was a fact. One that Annis was unable to dispute.

  ‘That would have been marvellous,’ Linda said shakily. ‘I haven’t dared think how I’ll cope… But Annis is right, we can’t afford either a place like that or a nanny.’

  ‘Before you make up your mind, perhaps you should hear the rest of your husband’s news?’ Zan suggested, his expression bland.

  As both women turned to look at him, Richard proudly announced, ‘Starting Monday, I’ve got a new job.’

  ‘A new job?’ Linda echoed.

  Flushed with success, seeming to grow in stature, Richard went on, ‘I’m going to be in charge of public relations for the whole of AP worldwide, with a salary three times what it is at present… But, even more important than that, it’s work I’m going to enjoy and, I believe, do well.’

  After all the months of worry, it was so wonderful to see him look like that, Annis thought dazedly, if only this job was genuine. But she couldn’t believe it was.

  ‘How…when…?’ Linda stammered.

  It was Zan who answered. ‘Richard wasn’t happy with what he was doing, and for the past week we’ve been discussing possible alternatives…’

  Looking as if the sky
had fallen in on her, Linda whispered, ‘I can hardly believe it.’

  Richard took her hand and squeezed it. ‘You’d better believe it.’ Then to Annis, ‘So you see, sis, we really can afford the house and a nanny, thanks to Mr Power.’

  Sitting mute and helpless, Annis clenched her hands until the pearly oval nails dug deep into her palms. She wanted to scream a warning, to tell them he was a ruthless, unscrupulous man who had been largely responsible for Maya’s death, and who was almost certainly trying to lure them into a trap.

  But she knew with a kind of sick certainty that it would be no use.

  Maya’s death and the events that followed had been less traumatic for Richard—away at college, he had been deliberately shielded from the worst—and if challenged on that last melodramatic charge she might have difficulty justifying it.

  Zan was so much in control, so adroit at juggling situations and people. He would smile and look unconcerned, mildly amused perhaps, and even if they believed there was some basis of truth, her accusations would sound absurd, blown up out of all proportion…

  Turning brimming eyes on Zan, Linda whispered, ‘How can we ever repay you?’

  ‘When you’re well enough to cope with guests you can invite us to dinner in your new home.’

  His use of the word ‘us’ and the warm glance he gave Annis wasn’t lost on the other two.

  Oh, but he was an expert tactician! she thought bitterly, tacitly implying an intimacy that provided a credible motive for helping them.

  ‘You’ll be the first to come,’ Linda promised. She sniffed and brushed away the happy tears. ‘You said it was empty? If Richard could start making arrangements to move in early next week…?’

  Gravely, Zan told her, ‘I believe he has one final surprise for you.’

  Grinning widely, Richard said, ‘We moved in this morning, lock, stock, and barrel.’

  Reeling from the shock, Annis realised grimly that she should have expected it. When Zan wanted something done he moved with the speed of a striking cobra and never left anything to chance.

  Laughing at Linda’s open-mouthed astonishment, Richard added, ‘There were carpets down and curtains already up, which was a big help. By eleven o’clock all the furniture was in place, the last of the cartons had been unpacked, and the removal men were having a cup of tea prior to leaving.’

  ‘How did Mrs Sheldon manage with the twins at such short notice?’ Linda asked faintly.

  ‘She took it in her stride. When I came away she was setting the kitchen to rights before getting lunch ready. And talking of lunch…’

  Zan stood up in one fluid movement. ‘Yes, it’s time we were off. We have things to discuss.’ He smiled down at Annis and, a hand beneath her elbow, urged her to her feet.

  Picking up her shoulder-bag, she said her goodbyes like a programmed robot and accompanied him through the main lounge area and out into the sunshine.

  His BMW was waiting on the gravel apron. Coolly in command, he opened the door and pushed her gently but firmly into the front passenger seat.

  Whistling ‘Oh, What A Beautiful Morning’ half under his breath, he swung left at the end of the drive and joined the thronging traffic.

  Thrown completely by the ambivalence of her feelings—relief at the change in Richard, and the easing of so much pressure; fear of how precarious his good fortune was and what the eventual cost might be—Annis struggled to regain her mental balance.

  By the time she’d succeeded they were turning down Park Lane. ‘Where are we going?’ she demanded in sudden alarm.

  His profile darkly austere, the thick sweep of curly lashes against his hard cheek only emphasising his arrogant maleness, he answered, ‘Home.’

  For some reason that monosyllable scared her. She shook her head. ‘I want to go back to my own flat.’

  His tone quietly adamant, he said, ‘We’re going to my place to have lunch, and talk.’

  It was a battle of wits and wills in which he had the advantage. Knowing it was useless to argue, she relapsed into silence.

  After a relatively short time they turned between high gateposts topped by a pair of fierce-looking stone guardians. The mythological creatures, with their eagles’ heads and wings and lions’ bodies, seemed singularly appropriate.

  Griffin House was two-storey, L-shaped, substantially built, and charming, its creeper-covered walls, the mature trees and the privacy of its garden giving a country feel to it in the heart of London.

  Zan opened the beautiful oak door, which was flanked by a pair of old carriage-lamps, and led her across a wood-panelled hall and into a large, period living-kitchen.

  Curious, despite herself, unsure quite what to expect, it came as a total surprise to her.

  It was a most attractive room, with a refectory table and a comfortable chintzy suite. Bowls of spring flowers stood in the windowsills and a glowing fire burnt on the wide stone hearth.

  Perhaps because he seemed so very masculine—so dangerous and untamed, despite his veneer of sophistication—she hadn’t thought of him as a man who would appreciate, or fit into, a cosy domestic setting.

  An amused twist to his lips that suggested he knew precisely what she was thinking, he remarked, ‘I’ve always preferred this room to the more formal sitting-room.’

  When he’d added a couple of logs to the fire and stirred them into a blaze, he put a covered tray on the coffee-table, observing, ‘My housekeeper always spends the weekend with her sister, who’s an invalid, so it’s a cold lunch on our knees.’

  Her appetite virtually non-existent, Annis managed to force down a chicken sandwich and some salad. By the time she’d finished, the percolator was bubbling, the smell of freshly ground coffee filling the kitchen. When Zan had poured the fragrant brew, they drank in silence until, seated opposite, his brilliant gaze resting on her pale, tense face, he threw down the gauntlet. ‘Well, Annis?’

  She picked it up.

  Her voice studiously calm and disciplined, belying the way her heart had started to race with suffocating speed, she asked, ‘Are you expecting me to thank you for what you’ve done for Linda and Richard?’

  ‘Were you planning to?’

  ‘It depends on why you did it.’

  He queried ironically, ‘You don’t believe it was out of the goodness of my heart?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then you know why.’

  Oh, yes, she knew. She knew only too well.

  Still she fought the knowledge, and said without inflextion, ‘You’ve gone to a great deal of trouble and expense.’

  His smile deepened laughter lines at the corners of his eyes and made grooves beside his firm mouth. ‘I’m sure it will be worth it.’

  ‘Don’t bet on it,’ she cried sharply. ‘If you’re hoping I’ll be grateful enough to fall into your arms…’

  Black head tilted to one side, he appeared to be considering the matter. After a moment, he said judiciously, ‘I hardly entertained that hope.’

  ‘Then what were you hoping for?’

  He got to his feet and, as though purposely giving her space, went to lean against the mantelpiece. Gently, coaxingly, he said, ‘A chance to start again, to make you dislike me less…’

  ‘Watch my lips—’ she saw his black brows draw together at the disdainful words ‘—and believe me when I say you’re wasting your time. I’ll never like you. Nothing you can do or say will ever alter that.’

  His face tightened as though she’d struck him, and fury at her scornful rejection, although carefully controlled and unspoken, was as palpable as if he’d banged his fists on the mantel.

  Full of blind hatred, and suddenly scared to death of the anger and hostility she’d aroused, she jumped to her feet and headed for the door.

  Before she could open it, he reached a hand over her shoulder and held it shut. His voice like velvet-covered steel, he drawled, ‘Don’t rush off.’

  ‘I’m going home.’ She spoke with a great deal more assurance than she felt.


  Flatly, he informed her, ‘You’re going nowhere. You’re staying right here where I want you.’

  She swung round, her back to the door. His dark, cruel face was so close that she could see a tell-tale pulse hammering in his temple, and a tiny, jagged scar just beneath his left eye.

  A dew of fear broke out all over her body. Somehow she managed to say coldly, ‘I don’t take orders from anyone.’

  ‘Not anyone. Me. From now on you’re going to do exactly as I say.’

  Her back pressed against the panels, she spat at him, ‘You must be crazy if you think—’

  ‘I don’t think. I know.’

  His quiet certainty shook her rigid. Still she defied him. ‘I’ve no intention of either staying here or taking orders from you.’

  ‘Don’t you care what happens to Richard and his family?’

  ‘You know perfectly well I care,’ she burst out hoarsely.

  ‘Then, in order to keep things running smoothly for them, you may need to reconsider.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ she asked unsteadily.

  ‘Exactly what you think I mean. You see, having settled his overdraft and paid off all his other creditors, your brother owes me a great deal of money…

  ‘If he does the PR job well and becomes a key man in my organisation—which I hope and expect he will—he’ll have no trouble paying that money back.

  ‘On the other hand, I might find he isn’t right for the job after all, and that could create problems for him, especially if I decided to withdraw my support…’

  ‘That’s blackmail,’ she breathed, aghast.

  ‘You’ve rejected the softly, softly approach, so I’m afraid you leave me no alternative.’

  Her aquamarine eyes turbulent as a stormy sea, she cried, ‘You really are a swine!’

  Zan smiled a shade thinly, wryly amused by her vehemence. Then, as though to bring home his absolute mastery, he moved away from the door and, indicating the chair she had just left, ordered with casual authority, ‘Sit down, Annis.’

  Like an automaton she obeyed, and sat, head drooping, as though her slender neck was too delicate to hold the heavy coil of silvery blonde hair.