That Devil Love

by Lee Wilkinson

  After her own insecure childhood, if she did have a baby she wanted it to be born into a happy home, to enjoy the stability of a lasting marriage, to have parents who loved each other and stayed together. Not be the outcome of a strange, passionate relationship that was almost certainly doomed to end in misery and heartbreak.

  Making a determined effort, she tried to fight down the disquiet and look on the bright side. There could be other reasons for her being late. She mustn’t jump to conclusions, or allow herself to keep worrying about it.

  But that was easier said than done.

  The spell of fine weather appeared to be coming to an end, and a fine mist was descending as Zan drove the BMW through London’s early evening traffic to Rydal Lodge.

  They were met at the door with a hearty welcome. Richard hugged his sister warmly, then the two men shook hands.

  When Linda had kissed Annis, a little in awe of Zan even now, she hesitated.

  He pulled a doleful face. ‘Don’t I get a kiss?’

  Laughing, she obliged, before leading the way inside, saying over her shoulder, ‘How lovely to see you both. Mrs Matheson says you’ve spent the last two weeks gallivanting, so tell me everything you’ve been doing…’

  Zan gave Annis the smiling sidelong glance that never failed to quicken her pulses, before raising a dark brow at Linda and asking, ‘Everything?’

  As the colour washed into Annis’s cheeks, her sister-in-law laughed and went pink in her turn. ‘Well, perhaps not everything…’

  The time passed quickly and the evening, which Annis had had reservations about, proved to be such a success that it was quite late before they got up to go.

  Having said their thanks and goodbyes they were on the point of leaving, when Richard exclaimed, ‘Oh I almost forgot. It’s amazing what turns up when you’re moving house…’

  Going to the bureau, he opened a drawer and pulled out an envelope. ‘I wondered if you’d like to have these? Maya sent them to me a month or so before she died.’

  A shade hesitantly, he added, ‘It just struck me that with the fire and everything you might not have a photograph of her, and I’ve got several… Oh, and there’s this.’ He produced a letter with a US stamp. ‘Sheila said it had been sent to your office.’

  Aware that by her side Zan had stiffened, and feeling as though she herself had just walked into a brick wall, Annis took the envelopes from her brother and, mumbling her thanks, stuffed them into her bag as she made her way across the hall.

  ‘You’ll come again before too long, won’t you?’ Linda asked eagerly.

  It was Zan who answered, with what sounded like genuine enthusiasm, ‘We’d be delighted to. But you must have a meal with us first.’

  At the door, they discovered it had turned quite foggy, and as the BMW slid down the drive, its headlights searched the wall of mist like the moving antennae of some animal.

  Perhaps it was the impression of greyness pressing in on all sides that added to Annis’s feeling of being imprisoned.

  She glanced uneasily at Zan, only to find he had discarded his social mask and his dark face, earlier alive and expressive, was now aloof and shuttered, the face of a gaoler.

  A shiver running through her, she told herself not to be a fool. Still the sensation of being trapped persisted unnervingly.

  They got back to Griffin House to find Mrs Matheson had obviously retired for the night and, apart from the twin carriage-lamps that glowed through the mist, the place was in darkness.

  ‘I’ll think I’ll go straight up to bed,’ Annis said hurriedly.

  But when she attempted to make a beeline for the stairs, Zan’s fingers closed around her wrist like a steel shackle, stopping her in her tracks. ‘Don’t go yet. I want to talk to you.’

  What about? she wondered anxiously. The things that Richard had given her? Or had he noticed she wasn’t herself and, with that sixth sense he so often displayed where she was concerned, picked up her own uneasy suspicion that she might be pregnant?

  Feeling unable to cope with any kind of confrontation that night, she objected, ‘Surely it can wait until morning?’ and was angry with herself for sounding nervous.

  ‘No, it can’t wait until morning.’ A hand in the small of her back he propelled her towards the kitchen.

  Quivers of apprehension running through her, she protested weakly, ‘I’m tired.’

  Dark and dominating, he would have none of it. ‘You can stay in bed all day tomorrow if you wish.’

  Knowing it was useless trying to fight such arrogant determination, she sank down in the nearest armchair. Then wished she hadn’t when he touched a switch and she found herself sitting—like some suspect about to be questioned—in a pool of light cast by the standard lamp.

  The room was still warm, the remains of a fire glowing in the grate. But as though declaring his intention of making the interrogation a lengthy one, Zan stirred the embers into life and, crouching on his haunches, constructed a pyramid of split logs.

  Annis found herself watching his hands. He had interesting hands, long and lean and mobile, beautifully shaped and sensitive, despite their strength.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he asked in a voice that was used to giving orders, used to being obeyed, ‘Aren’t you going to look at your letter?’

  So it was the letter.

  With a feeling of reprieve on one front and anxiety on the other, she took out the envelope addressed in Stephen’s untidy fist, and tore it open.

  Having skimmed through the pages, she breathed a sigh of relief, and began to feel slightly less guilty about her part in turning his life upside down.

  More than a little stilted, as if written by someone who wanted to sound like a troubleshooter but was still finding it difficult to fit the image, to see himself in such colourful and romantic terms, it was innocuous and cheerful enough.

  Though so far he’d been no further afield than California and its neighbouring states, he told her, his new job was an interesting challenge which he was enjoying immensely. He liked the mild climate and the sunshine, got on well with his American colleagues, and was pleased with the condominium the firm had found for him.

  Only towards the end did he become slightly maudlin, the real man showing through. ‘If you were here with me,’ he’d written, ‘things would be perfect. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, and I miss you a lot…’

  But the declaration seemed curiously passionless, and she had the feeling that he was almost enjoying the pangs of unrequited love.

  Looking up at Zan, who had risen to his feet and was leaning against the mantel, Annis found his tawny eyes fixed on her with a bleak, dissecting look.

  Silently she held out the letter.

  He shook his head, his mouth indenting with wry self-mockery. ‘I’ve never considered a husband has a right to read his wife’s mail.’

  ‘Neither have I, unless he’s given that privilege,’ she answered coolly. ‘However, I would like you to read this.’

  Taking it from her he scanned it rapidly, then glancing up, commented sardonically, ‘It doesn’t exactly burn the paper it’s written on.’

  ‘No…’ After a moment she added with a touch of irony, ‘So if you’re quite satisfied, perhaps I could go to bed now?’

  His beautiful mouth tightened ominously, and she knew she’d succeeded in aggravating him.

  ‘Don’t you have something else to look at?’ His curt query jolted her.

  With a feeling of reluctance that amounted almost to foreboding, Annis took out the second envelope. Inside a single folded sheet of monogrammed notepaper were two snapshots of Maya. They appeared to have been taken outside an old coaching inn, and in each of them she was smiling brilliantly.

  The note, dated a couple of months before her death, had clearly been written when she was still on top of the world. It was completely self-orientated, as always, the flamboyant style contrasting oddly with the small, cramped handwriting.

  ‘My own darling R
icky, I can’t begin to tell you how ecstatically happy I am! At last I’ve found the man of my dreams. He’s as dark and handsome as Lucifer, and the most wonderful lover any woman could wish for. Perhaps I shouldn’t confess a thing like that to my own son, but you’re a big boy now. We’ve just spent a heavenly weekend in the Cotswolds—that’s where the photos were taken. The stumbling-block is his…’ The next word was heavily scored out, then the letter went on, ‘But in the circumstances I must be discreet. We are both news-worthy—he’s a top businessman—and if the media got wind of our affair they’d have a field day. However, when he’s dealt with some personal problems we can be together openly and for always. I can hardly wait. My fondest love, as ever. Maya.’

  Knowing now that Zan had lied to her, Annis sat still and silent, gazing down at the damning words, feeling as though she’d been turned to stone.

  ‘Am I to be granted the same privilege?’

  Zan’s question brought her smooth, silvery blonde head up. For a moment she stared at him blindly, then anger, bitter as Dead Sea apples on her tongue, she said, ‘Yes, I think you should read it… Now if you’ll excuse me.’

  But as she made an attempt to rise, his hand shot out and fastened on her shoulder. ‘Don’t go.’ Without hurting her, he applied enough downward pressure to make it difficult to disobey him. ‘We still need to talk.’

  When she sank back, he transferred his attention to the note. As he read it, his tawny eyes seemed to blaze in the frozen mask of his face. Then with an angry exclamation, he crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the flames.

  ‘Burning the evidence?’ Annis asked scornfully.

  Controlling himself with an effort, he said flatly, ‘I only wish Richard had burnt that rubbish straight away instead of coming up with it just when things seemed to be working out.’

  ‘You call it rubbish, but it was the truth, wasn’t it?’

  Bending, he caught hold of both her hands, his grip painful. ‘I want you to try and put it right out of your mind.’

  ‘Wasn’t it?’ she insisted.

  ‘There was some truth in it,’ he admitted heavily. ‘But for everyone’s sake, you have to make an effort to forget it.’

  Ignoring his words, she tried to pull her hands free, saying through stiff lips, ‘You’re hurting me.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He released his grip. ‘I didn’t mean to. But reading that blasted note made me feel so furious.’

  ‘But not guilty?’ Lifting her chin she stared at him, making no effort to hide the cold contempt.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that.’ Taking her shoulders, he shook her. ‘I won’t allow you to spoil what we’ve got. What’s happened in the past shouldn’t make any difference to us. You’re mine now, a warm, passionate woman… Nothing’s changed.’

  ‘Everything’s changed. I can’t stay with you knowing how you lied to me.’

  His face grew pale beneath the tan. ‘No matter what that letter seems to suggest, I didn’t lie to you…’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ she cried.

  ‘Listen to me, Annis—’ he gave her a little shake to emphasise each word ‘—I was never Maya’s lover. But as it’s not possible to prove, you’ll just have to take my word and trust me.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m leaving.’

  Softly, dangerously, he said, ‘I won’t let you go.’

  ‘You can’t stop me.’

  His hands dropped to his sides as though discounting physical restraint, before he responded with quiet certainty, ‘Oh, yes, I can…’

  ‘I noticed you didn’t finish your sherry tonight, nor your wine, and you scarcely ate a thing…’

  His quiet statement made her heartbeat falter then start racing. ‘I—I had a headache,’ she stammered.

  ‘Was it the headache that made you look so distraite and kept you unusually quiet all evening?’

  ‘Yes, it was,’ she declared boldly.

  ‘That’s a pity.’ His voice was smooth, solicitous. ‘I rather thought you might have some good news for me…’

  Watching all the colour drain from her face he said, ‘In some ways we’re so close that I quite often know what’s going through your mind.’ When she said nothing, he continued, ‘If you are having a baby, it happened that very first night in San Francisco…

  ‘After learning about Maya and realising there were even more problems than I’d envisaged, I made sure you wouldn’t get pregnant—at least until those problems had been put behind us. Now it seems my precautions may have come too late…’

  ‘Not necessarily.’ Flushing a little, she went on, ‘I’ve never been very regular. It might be a false alarm…’

  ‘And it might not.’

  ‘Either way I refuse to stay with you.’

  Furiously, he began, ‘If you hadn’t read that damned note—’

  ‘But I have read it.’

  ‘Well, if you think I’m going to let the outpourings of a neurotic woman ruin both our lives you’re quite wrong. You’re staying and—’

  ‘You can’t make me stay.’ Desperately, she added, ‘I’d sooner tell Linda and Richard the truth.’

  After a taut silence, he asked, ‘If there is a baby, do you want to keep it?’

  ‘Of course I want to keep it,’ she cried, and saw some of his tautness relax. She gazed up at him white-faced and vulnerable, her clear, aquamarine eyes mirroring her distress.

  ‘Then if you stop to think about it, Annis, I’m sure you’ll see that to stay with me is by far the wisest course. Sexually we’re compatible, to say the least. We like the same things, and enjoy each other’s company. Surely we’ve enough going for us to build a future together?’

  The thing she’d always known—that because he didn’t love her their relationship was bound to be a temporary one—surfaced. ‘For how long?’ she asked bitterly. ‘As long as your obsession lasts? And then what—a quick divorce?’

  ‘I don’t believe in divorce. I’m offering you a lifetime’s commitment.’

  Despite everything, for a moment she was dreadfully tempted to try and grasp that dream of happiness. But common sense told her it was just a dream. She shook her head. ‘It would never work.’

  ‘We can make it work. With give and take on both sides we can have a good and lasting relationship.’

  ‘Based on what?’

  After hesitating briefly, he answered, ‘On mutual liking and respect.’ Then he urged, ‘Annis, stay with me willingly. I know we can make each other happy. Why don’t you just stay with me until the child is born? Let our child be something that draws us together, and if, after the birth, you really can’t bear me in your life, then you can go.’

  For a moment she wavered, shaken by his apparent sincerity. Then she laughed scornfully. ‘You can hardly expect us to be happy. As I neither like nor respect you, and could never forget you were my mother’s lover, all we could make each other would be unhappy.’

  He went white to the lips and for one awful moment she thought he was going to strike her, then he said coldly, ‘Then that’s how it must be. I’d rather be unhappy with you than happy with any other woman.’

  After a moment she said dully, ‘All right, you win. I’ll stay with you. But I won’t sleep with you.’

  His face was a blank mask, no feelings exposed. Only his eyes were alive and they blazed with a terrible anger. Quietly, implacably, he said, ‘I think you will.’

  ‘You’ll have to use force.’

  ‘I’ll do whatever’s necessary. I’m determined that from now on we’re having as normal a married life as possible.’

  He stooped to lift her out of her chair, holding her tightly in case she struggled. But well aware that it would be useless to fight him, she lay supine in his arms as he carried her up the stairs.

  In their bedroom he put her down on the bed and began to kiss and caress her, while he removed her clothes with care.

  But even when his mouth was exploring hers, his hand fondling her full, warm b
reast, her eyes wide open, she lay like a rag doll.

  It was passive resistance at its most prohibitive.

  She was wondering desperately how long she could keep it up, when he lifted his mouth from hers to say softly, ‘It won’t work, Annis.’

  He closed her eyelids with kisses, then began to caress her again with feather-light strokes that goose-pimpled her skin. His hands and mouth tantalising, tormenting, he used all his skill and patience to rouse her, gradually bringing every inch of her body to throbbing life.

  He didn’t speak again during that long, slow seduction of the senses, but felt a savage satisfaction at the betraying signs of quickened breathing and hardening nipples, the little gasps she couldn’t control as he teased and touched them with lips and tongue.

  When he finally moved over her, her arms went around his neck and her mouth opened to his with a wordless, hungry passion that matched his own.

  He took her with the fierce triumph of some conqueror, enjoying to the full the little whimpers of pleasure he forced from her, before allowing his own iron control to slip and send them both tumbling into the precipice.

  When his breathing slowed and his pulse-rate returned to normal, Zan rolled on to his back. Drawing Annis into his arms, he settled her head on his shoulder, before pulling the clothes over their sweat-slicked bodies.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ANNIS awoke next morning with a feeling of warmth and security. Safe in the crook of Zan’s arm, her head on his chest, she was at home where she belonged.

  As she lay, eyes closed, quietly savouring the feeling of joy and wellbeing, her mind stirred into life. In a moment her happiness had drained away like water from a sink when someone pulled the plug, and she was reproaching herself bitterly for her weakness and stupidity.

  She had neither wanted nor intended to sleep with him again, but he only had to touch her to engender the most powerful feeling she’d ever known, a longing to be in his arms that obliterated all resolve, all restraint, all sense of right or wrong.

  A sigh escaped her.