Spellbound

by Margaret Way

  'How lovely.' She gave him a brilliant glance. The very air around him crackled with vibrant charges and there was absolutely no pity in those heathenish eyes. 'Is that what the doctors say?'

  'I speak to them regularly.'

  'I know.' The terrible uncertainty in her quickened. 'What I don't know is why?'

  'If you could, you'd run from me. Hide for shelter.'

  'You've seen my legs.' She felt as though he had struck her a terrible blow.

  'The plaster will come off. Two months at the outside. Everything that could be done has been done for you. The worst will pass.'

  'I know.' She laughed helplessly. 'The truth is I would never have found the dedication to stay with you. All that sweat and punishment—it was too much. It will be wonderful to be away from ballet.'

  'One side of it, perhaps,' he said deliberately. 'But it is your life and your world.'

  Her lovely face registered her shock and confusion. 'No-no-' she stammered. 'You know very well I can never go back.'

  'Why not?' He pulled his chair closer and took her hand so she was required to look at him.

  'You're cruel, aren't you?' she shuddered. 'It takes a cruel person to ask that.'

  'So I broke my ankle.' The striking, ruthless face was appraising her critically.

  'You told me it was a skiing accident.'

  'Just so, but the injury remained.'

  'For God's sake!' She tried to pull away from him, but it was impossible. 'You never really wanted to be a dancer.'

  'I don't know that I wanted a broken ankle. It happened, and only persistent effort has made me as mobile as I am.' Lucie had turned her face away and he caught her chin. 'I insist you listen to me.'

  The lean strong fingers were hurting her. 'If you only knew how I hate you!'

  'God, no, darling,' he said witheringly, 'take my word for it, as far as emotions are concerned, you're , just a little baby.'

  'At least to you.' He was still holding her, vicelike, and it was curious how his vitality and strength was reaching to the centre of her being. She realised she wanted to hit him, for the first time fighting the domination of body and mind.

  'Poor little Lucie!' he breathed the words mockingly.

  She did not know how long she lay there staring into his eyes. From time to time she had registered his beauty and his maleness, now she found herself studying him closely; not as a prowling panther who took delight in drilling her to exhaustion but as a man, the veteran of countless affairs, including Camilla, the ballerina he had brought into his Company.

  'Tell me what you see,' he said lightly, his long eyes narrowing.

  'A monster.'

  'You aren't serious?'

  'A suberb monster, but a monster nevertheless.' Her huge violet eyes swept over his face, thinking it extraordinary. Power and ruthlessness were tangible, a matching sensuality. A voluptuous woman like Camilla would revel in such virility, but Lucie found it frightening and overpowering. She, who had never had a lover in a world where love was a game.

  His had a very definite, very foreign face clearly showing his ancestry. Thick, springing jet black hair, wide brow, very pronounced cheekbones, deep-set, almond-shaped, brilliant black eyes, hawkish, high- bridged nose, generous mouth, disturbing mouth, the edges very cleanly cut, squarish, deeply cleft chin. His teeth, like the American he had become, were white and perfect, flashing against his dark golden skin every time he smiled. His smile was totally disarming, especially after his snarl.

  Even without the intensifying factor of his mind, his looks would have been extraordinary, but everything he was, the brilliance, the hot temper, the uncommon, burning energy, was so clearly apparent in that compelling face. Lucie hardly dared to keep looking at him, unquestionably troubled by the excitement he engendered. Except for the great love she had borne for her mother, her heart had known utmost quiet.

  'Don't spare my feelings,' he said, with a twist of his mobile mouth.

  'You never tried to spare mine.'

  'What did you expect? I would scream at a nothing?'

  She shook her head. 'Joel was terribly jealous of you,' she whispered.

  'Let it out,' he said harshly.

  'I don't think I can.'

  'It will be better.'

  Lucie lay back and gave a faint moan. 'His mother keeps trying to see me.'

  'I know. Tell me about Joel.'

  She shut her eyes and her lashes lay very black and heavy against a camellia-white skin. 'We were arguing. Joel was arguing. He was angry. He said you were cruel to me and I didn't have to take it.'

  'He said he wanted you.'

  'He said he loved me.'

  'Where is he?' This very flatly in a voice that could purr like black velvet.

  'I don't know—should I?' She opened her lovely eyes again and stared at the ceiling. 'I suppose he's blaming himself dreadfully.'

  'That's exactly what he should do,' Julian said sternly.

  'You sound angry.' She turned her head and met his eyes and what she saw in them made her catch her breath. 'It was an accident!' she insisted.

  'So.' Now his expression was masked. 'I'm not a kind person.'

  'No, not kind at all.' She gave a queer little laugh. 'What's to become of me?'

  'You come to me.' He said it matter-of-factly as though it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

  'You?'

  'Why are you looking at me so oddly? You have no one else to look after you, and you'll need looking after until you're out of plaster.'

  Was it possible she could get out of hospital? That someone was really offering to look after her? Though she was conscious of a rise in spirits she still said, 'But I can't stay with you. That's absolutely out of the question.'

  'Is it? I have a nice house, plenty of room. Terraces where you can sun yourself—your legs, not your face.'

  Lucie found that her hands were trembling uncontrollably. 'But it's not suitable. People will talk.'

  'There will be nothing for them to talk about?' he said with his customary arrogance. 'I know you've been fretting about having to remain in hospital.'

  'Yes.' Her hair had come out of its soft chignon, now it floated down her back in a stream of raven silk. The pain and terror of the past weeks had curiously not drained, but enhanced her beauty. She looked like a figurine in priceless porcelain, graceful and delicate, demanding the gentlest handling. Even the enveloping blue nightgown she was wearing could not hide the exquisite contours of her upper body or the reality of her singular grace.

  Now she stared at him out of her flower-bright eyes. 'Please tell me what I must really do?'

  'I am telling you.' Her agitation did not affect him at all. He was completely composed. 'There's nothing to be frightened of. You need security and I'm going to provide it. Think of it only as a way out of your predicament.'

  'I could ask one of the girls to stay with me.'

  'Absurd. You need a man to lift you—a male nurse.'

  She shook her head hopelessly. 'I'll have to stay here.'

  'No, little one.' He spoke with faint exasperation. 'You're going to do as you're told. I am your Director. When your legs are out of plaster, you may go back to your own little abode.'

  'And you're going to discuss this with Camilla?' She realised the moment she said it she had made a mistake.

  'Now why should I do that?' Julian spoke in his softest voice, a voice to make one shiver.

  'I thought. ..' Her heavy eyelashes flickered.

  'Yes?' he asked with cold disdain.

  'People will talk.' All that endless delicious gossip.

  'Shall I marry you, then, darling?' he offered acidly. 'For how many weeks it takes for you to get on your feet.'

  'Maybe I'm not as worldly as you.' Her beautiful eyes filled with tears. She was completely unsure of his motive for suggesting this; troubled by its implications.

  'It's all settled,' he said curtly, his flaring black brows drawing together. 'You are a child in need of shel
ter. Your injuries preclude any other speculation. You are so exceedingly helpless you must either remain here and become increasingly introspective or be taken into somebody's care. I feel I have a responsibility to a leading member of my company. People can think what they like—they do in any case. My conduct, I assure you, will be fatherly.'

  Despite herself she laughed. Her first real laugh since the accident.

  'Well, brotherly,' he smiled, and his almond eyes crinkled at the corners. From intimidating to flashing charm.

  'I'll think about it,' she said. Hospital was an alien place, a place to be away from, yet she was aware of all the relative crises in staying with him.

  'Of course.' He stood up in one incredibly lithe movement. 'Think about it by all means, but it's exactly what will happen.'

  CHAPTER TWO

  On the day Lucie was due to go home, Camilla Price made her ominous first and last visit. She swept into Lucie's room and the face of the nurse who was attending Lucie lit up in entranced recognition. Camilla Price was a stunningly attractive woman, not a beauty, but looking, acting and standing as if she were.

  'Miss Price!' The little nurse fell back from the bed, as most people fell back for Camilla.

  'How are you?' Camilla gave her a brilliant, empty smile.

  It was apparent Camilla required no answer, nor indeed would have heard it had one been supplied, so the young nurse excused herself and hurried from the room. So that was the great Camilla Price, heavily made up and wearing the most gorgeous clothes. In an odd way she was an extremely handsome woman, but not, the little nurse thought shrewdly, very kind.

  As soon as the nurse had gone, Camilla came directly to the point.

  'You are not to go with Julian!' The expression on her face was appallingly vehement.

  'I don't want to, you know.' Lucie went white at her aggression.

  'Then why is this?'

  'I have no alternative,' Lucie said with a terrible depression. Sister had not appeared to help her dress, so she was still lying in the hospital bed.

  'Can't you get a nurse?' Camilla demanded. 'Surely you can pay someone to look after you?'

  'I'll be lucky if I have anything left after I pay the hospital. And there's still my operation to be paid for.'

  'Am I right in thinking you're going to persist with this?' Camilla came closer, her strange yellowish- brown eyes glaring.

  'I'm sorry, Camilla,' said Lucie. 'There are very few courses open to me. I don't think you know what it's like to be physically helpless.'

  'I don't think you know what it's like to cross me!'

  'I don't see how I could do that,' Lucie said in a strangled whisper. She was the very opposite of a violent person and Camilla's ugly animosity, left her dazed.

  'Be careful,' Camilla warned her, 'and take that innocent look off your face. Oh, you think you're so clever, persuading Julian to take you in. How sad for you that I found out in time. Did you really think your little tragedy would bring you together? Julian despises you as a woman; a shut-in little virgin born to be bullied. His interest in you was as a dancer, and you are no longer that.'

  'No.' Inside Lucie was sick and trembling, but her voice was quiet. 'Why do you hate me, Camilla? I'm no threat to you in any way.'

  'Certainly not.' The yellow eyes glowed malignantly. 'Anyway, I'm not going to have you getting in my way. You can't possibly stay with Julian. He's a famous man. I am famous. People will talk.'

  'I've said this to him!' Lucie's violet eyes looked positively haunted. 'You should know he doesn't listen to anyone.'

  'That's not true of me!' Camilla was controlling herself with difficulty. 'I'm a person of importance in Julian's life. I want to tell you this. We're lovers, bound to one another. You can't begin to grasp what we mean to each other. We may not marry, but what does that mean? In our world, nothing. I will not permit you to stay in his house.'

  'Very well,' Lucie answered her in a lifeless tone.

  'You mean that?' Camilla actually fell back, falling into a naturally dramatic pose.

  'I'm quite aware that you're Julian Strasberg's mistress. It means nothing to me, just as he means nothing except as a brilliant man. A sorcerer, I suppose, who holds us all spellbound.'

  Camilla came forward and struck the chair with violence. 'He means nothing, yet you call him a sorcerer? For that's exactly what he is. He has power, Julian. Too much power for his own good. People recognise it at once. My God, hasn't he transformed my life!'

  'Find him and tell him not to come.'

  Camilla gave a rather sinister laugh. 'Tell him yourself. Tell him you've made other plans. That crazy boy, Joel—go to him. Stay with his mother. I hear she's been haunting the ward.'

  'At least she had the sensitivity not to come in,' retorted Lucie.

  'Touché!' Camilla laughed again. 'I have no sensitivity, my dear, only on stage. Julian doesn't really care about you at all. He can see you're stupidly frightened—even I can see that. I suppose if the worst comes to the worst I can lend you money until you find work. How much would you want?'

  This is all unreal! Lucie thought. If only I could walk! She saw then her dancing as something of the past; another girl, another life, full of wonderful aspirations. Sunlight caught the sheen of her hair, making it look as though it was strung with sequins.

  'Well?' Camilla prompted, only wishing to see the end of this remarkable girl. 'I have to dance tonight. I think you could let me have your answer.'

  There was nothing left to Lucie but pride. 'I'll manage, Camilla, somehow.'

  Camilla's golden eyes had the brilliant, predatory look of a hunting hawk. 'And you'll tell Julian?'

  'If he'll listen.'

  'Make him listen.' Camilla came even closer and Lucie caught the wave of her powerful, musky scent. 'If you're to have any peace at all, don't attempt to cross me. You're not equal to it.'

  The evidence of this struck Lucie forcibly. She could feel the vibrations from the older woman's body, the dangerous hostility. Camilla had hated her from the very first day she had joined the Company, sensing a rival even as Julian Strasberg tore her technique and interpretation to shreds.

  Afterwards when Sister came Lucie told her there had been a change of plan. Julian Strasberg would be unavoidably delayed at the theatre, so she was to travel by ambulance to her own little flat and there he would collect her some time after the evening's performance.

  Sister, who for some reason had found Julian Strasberg's attendance on her favourite patient very romantic, fell for it at once.

  'The ambulance men will look after you, my dear.' She smiled down at Lucie, imprisoned in a wheelchair. 'Now you know when you're to come back to have the plaster off and after that, we'll talk about therapy.' Unexpectedly she swooped down and kissed Lucie's pale cheek. 'God bless, and chin up. You're only going to be in that wheelchair for a few more weeks. Some people are helpless all their lives.'

  'I know.' Lucie gave her a resigned look from her large violet eyes. 'Thank you for everything you've done for me. I know some days were difficult.'

  'No.' Sister shook her steel-grey, ordered head. 'I don't think you actually realise how brave you really are.'

  In the ambulance Lucie felt no necessity to keep that stiff upper lip. She was sick with nerves and agitation wondering at Julian Strasberg's reaction. She had not even left a message telling him to stay away. He would come to the hospital expecting to find her; instead he would find an empty bed.

  'Are you sure you're going to be all right, love?' Tom, the younger of the two ambulance men, looked at her anxiously. They had her seated on the old velvet sofa and she looked very tiny and Wan.

  'Yes, of course. It won't be long.' She was grateful her mother had never had to witness her tragedy.

  'When is your friend coming?' the older man asked, opening out the windows.

  'Very soon.' Lucie could not have been more frightened. However hard she tried to quiet her jangled nerves she had had too much experience of Julian Strasbe
rg's temper and habit of command. He would be furious with the loss of his precious time, more furious at her daring to alter his decision.

  'What about a cup of tea before we go?' There was fascination in Tom's face as well as professional kindness.

  'No, thank you—really, I'll be fine.' Lucie looked up to smile at him, a poignant illumination that washed over her exquisite little face. All the time he was reminded of a broken bird he had once found in his garden and nursed back to flight.

  They stayed for a few minutes more, checking the flat, then with an encouraging word they were gone. As long as the young lady had someone to look after her, they had to get on with the job. Lucie looked at her watch. It was quarter past two.

  For the next two hours Lucie's tension mounted. Any moment she expected to hear a car pull up at the front of her block of flats, then a moment later to hear a violent knocking at her door. She was almost hysterical wondering how she was going to cope with his anger, but then in the middle of it, she went to sleep, worn out with anxieties and the terrible weight of her legs. He had paid the hospital bill. He had not been meant to, but he had paid without a word. She could not even reflect on his reasons; his complex plans to rescue her from her misery. He was not a kind man. Who should know better than she?

  When she opened her eyes again, he was sitting opposite her, quietly unnerving, as though he had a perfect right to be there. 'Oh '

  'Hello, Lucie.'