by Daphne Clair
'I'll bet you were terrified out of your mind,!' she said sarcastically, casting a withering glance over his six feet plus of masculine muscle.
'Absolutely!' he agreed solemnly, but his eyes gave him away. He was enjoying himself hugely. He raised an arm and barred her way into the bathroom by putting it across the door, and grinned down at her. 'I'm only a poor teacher of English, you know. What does Graeme do for a living?'
'He's a solicitor,' she said dulcetly. Then, laughter bubbling up inside in spite of herself, she added, 'He's also a very good amateur fencer.'
His lips moved very slightly. 'You see? I'm sure he was about to slap me with a glove and issue an invitation to meet him with drawn swords at dawn.'
'Don't be so ridiculous!' she retorted, but her voice trembled with laughter. She put up a hand to push at his arm. 'Let me past.'
The arm remained exactly where it was, and she dropped her hand as he raised his eyebrows at her. 'Please,' she said resignedly.
Still he didn't move. 'I do have a name, you know,' he said after a moment.
'Yes, I know, Mr Lines. May I pass, please?'
He shook his head. 'Not good enough', Stacey. Try Alex. It's quite a simple name, really.'
She stared up at him, mutely stubborn.
He said her name, softly, coaxingly. She almost gave in, but looking up into his face she saw such assurance, almost triumph, that the impulse to comply died. Instead she raised her hand and brought it down, edge on, and hard, inside his elbow.
The rigid arm buckled as he gave a soft, forceful exclamation, but as she slipped by him and made to close the door after her, he pushed it wide, and next minute she found herself pinned against the wall, with his hands firmly gripping her upper arms.
'Let me go!' she hissed at him.
'Ask me properly, then.' He was still smiling, but there was a hint of implacability about his face, as well as in his hold on her.
'No! Why should I?'
'Because if you don't, I just might give Graeme something to be jealous about,' he said softly.
'You bully!'
'Sure. But you started getting violent, remember ?'
He moved closer and she turned her head away from him, trying to struggle free. He released one arm to put a hand behind her head and she raised a hand to push at him, only to have it captured and both wrists held firmly behind her back as he pulled her close and turned her face to his with his other hand.
His eyes were dark and glittery as he bent his head.
'No, Alex. Please,' Stacey gasped.
For a moment she thought he was not going to take any notice. Then he slowly released her.
'You were nearly too late, Stacey,' he taunted her. 'You believe in living dangerously, don't you?'
'Oh, go away!' Stacey said, furiously, seeing the satisfaction in his smile.
'Sure,' he grinned, giving her a mock-bow, and strolling off down the passageway to his room.
Stacey shut the bathroom door with a decisive slam.
Graeme seemed to have got over his slight ill-humour by the time they finished eating. Silently Stacey blessed her mother's cooking for that. Alex was particularly urbane, and seemed to be putting himself out to encourage Graeme to talk, with well-placed questions and an air of absorbed interest in the answers. Stacey, suspicious, watched him carefully for signs of insincerity or concealed boredom, but could find none. In the end she concluded that he was genuinely interested, and chided herself for her meanness of spirit. It wasn't like her to look for the worst in anyone.
Stacey got her mother to sit with him and Graeme in the lounge while she and Fergus did the dishes, and made coffee. When she handed Alex his cup, he got up and went to sit beside her mother, saying, 'You sit here, Stacey. I've monopolised Graeme long enough.'
Because she was obscurely annoyed, she made a particular effort to entertain Graeme after that, laughing into his eyes and paying flattering attention to his every word.
She thought of apologising for her absence that afternoon, but there seemed no point in raising the issue again, and she had not been expecting him to call. He couldn't think that she should have been waiting for him on the off-chance that he might want to see her.
Alex seemed absorbed in entertaining her mother, who laughed often, and Fergus sat near them smiling lazily and occasionally contributing a soft remark of his own.
Graeme left at ten, kissing her lingeringly at the door when she saw him off, and extracting a promise from her to attend a party with him the following Saturday.
As she closed the door behind him, and turned, she saw Alex coming out of the sitting room into the hall.
Disconcerted by the way he stood a couple of paces from the doorway, watching her move towards it, she said lightly, 'Are you going to bed?'
'Uh-huh. Has Graeme got over his huff?'
'He isn't in a huff,' she said coldly.
'Not now, perhaps. Been sweetening him up, haven't you?'
He caught her chin, bringing her to a halt as she made to pass him, and holding it with his fingers, ran his thumb over her lips.
She put up a hand to stop him, but he had already released her, glancing at his thumb, innocent, like her mouth, of lipstick, and giving her a sardonic smile. 'Some guys get all the luck,' he said softly before he took himself off down the passage, to his room.
Stacey had a new dress for the party. She had made it herself, of pale green nylon chiffon—a floating dream of a dress on very simple lines, but decorated with her own hand-painted design of drifting pastel blossoms.
For the occasion she had her hair set professionally, something she didn't normally bother with, preferring as a rule to wear it loose. But Graeme's boss was giving this party, and he had made it clear that it was something of an occasion. It marked the twenty-fifth anniversary of the opening of the law firm, and also the boss's wedding anniversary. Graeme, still a junior member of the firm, was anxious to make an impression, and had asked her to dress up.
His approval was obvious when he saw her. 'You look gorgeous!' he said, going to her and holding her hands while he' surveyed her.
'Not too bad,' Fergus told her with a grin. High praise, coming from a brother, Stacey admitted with a smile.
Her mother had already previewed the dress and hairstyle, but assured her again that she looked lovely. 'Your father would be so proud of you, if he could see you now,' she said.
Stacey smiled softly back, her fingers going to the locket which was visible just above the low neckline of the dress.
'Are you wearing that?' her mother asked.
'Yes. It looks all right, doesn't it?'
'Yes, darling, it looks fine.' The simple trinket complemented the dress perfectly, but a shadow crossed Mrs Coleman's face as her gaze lingered on it. She shot a quick, look at Graeme's face, but said no more.
'Ready?' Graeme asked, and Stacey turned a smile to him and took his arm. As they left, she firmly stifled a faint sense of disappointment. It was silly to feel let down because Alex had not been there to add his approval to that of the others.
Graeme looked particularly handsome tonight dressed formally and with an unaccustomed bow-tie. The glances they received when they entered the house where the patty was being held, and were introduced to other guests, told her that they made an attractive pair. Graeme beamed when his boss complimented Stacey and his wife told her how very pretty she looked, showing interest in the hand-painted design, and genuine admiration when Stacey said it was her own work.
'Clever as well as beautiful,' Graeme grinned, steering her towards the bar in one corner. 'What more could a man want?'
She was touched by his obvious pride in showing her off, and couldn't help but glow in the warmth of his love and admiration. For the first time she began to think seriously about his desire to marry her, and to wonder if after all it might be the best thing. He was very nice, and loved her very much. Although she had allowed no intimate lovemaking to enter their relationship, his kisses were plea
surable enough to her. She would not find that side of marriage to him repulsive. If her body didn't sing for him, and her heart and mind didn't wing to his, if the touch of his hand didn't set her throbbing with joy—perhaps these things belonged to first love, and David had been the first for her. He would have been the first, last and only one for her, had not his life been cruelly cut short.
If David had been the only man in the world who could have taken her to the heights, could she settle for another kind of loving, and take what Graeme offered her? She could learn to love him, if not with passion, at least with affection and gratitude for the love he had for her.
As they danced, she allowed him to draw her close, and snuggled into his arms when he put them round her waist, sliding her hands around his neck to link behind it. She felt his lips in her hair when the light dimmed, and didn't draw away.
'I swear I'll make you forget David,' he muttered into her soft hair. And when she shivered at that, he closed his arms more tightly about her and made a soft groaning sound. 'Don't,' he whispered, as she tried to draw away. 'You can't grieve for ever, darling. Oh, Stacey, please love me.'
She lifted her head in the dim light to look at him. 'I want to,' she said softly.
The light that leaped into his eyes almost frightened her. He stopped dancing and breathed her name as he held her.
'Please, Graeme,' she whispered, pushing him away a little. 'People are looking.'
'Let them,' he said, suddenly gay. 'I love you and I don't care who knows it.' The music had changed to a quickstep rhythm, and he swung her away a little and began to dance gaily and expertly. They finished the dance laughing and slightly breathless, and that set the tone for the evening. The rest of it passed in a happy whirl, and when Graeme took her home it was two o'clock in the morning.
He refused a cup of coffee, and kissed her with restrained tenderness before she let herself into the house. Stacey waited until she heard his car reverse down the drive, and then turned off the porch light that her mother had left burning for her and crept quietly inside, trying not to wake anyone.
She slipped out of her shoes and made her way in darkness down the familiar passageway to her bedroom.
Carefully tiptoeing, she was almost there when her foot encountered something warm and soft that moved convulsively and gave a brief yowl in conjunction with her own soft, startled shriek. She stumbled and flung out her hands, hearing her shoes thudding against the wall and floor as they left her hand and were thrown in front of her. Her dress caught in her toes as she tried to regain her balance, and she fell ungracefully to the floor.
She was picking herself up when light flooded into the passageway as Alex opened his door. She blinked at him as he took a step into the passageway and picked up one of her shoes which was lying almost at his feet. He was wearing dark trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves unbuttoned and cuffs turned back.
'Well, well,' he drawled, straightening up with her shoe in his hand. 'If it isn't Cinderella! You're about two hours late, Cinders.'
'What are you doing, still up at this hour?' she asked, too surprised to be polite.
'I've been to a party, like you. Didn't you know?'
No one had mentioned it. She wondered if he had taken a girl to the party, and if so, who.
He came over to her, saying, 'Would you mind telling me why you're throwing shoes around at this time of the morning?'
'I fell over a cat,' she said.
'We don't have one, do we?' he asked.
'No, we don't. That's why it was unexpected. It must have come through a window. Most of the neighbours have cats, and one or two are a bit cheeky. But I didn't expect to find one sleeping outside my door in the middle of the night.'
'Are you all right?'
With slight sarcasm she replied, 'Now that you ask, yes, thank you.'
He glanced over her shoulder. She presumed he was wondering if she had woken her mother or Fergus, and was about to tell him they both slept quite heavily, when he spoke again.
'I apologise. I should have realised that you weren't throwing shoes at my door for fun or—er --' He broke off as she glared at him, and said, 'Forget it. What I mean is, I should have been more solicitous of your welfare. But you see, I'm not sure what your usual nocturnal habits are, after a night spent carousing.'
.'My, my!' Stacey said with sweet admiration. 'You do talk just like an English teacher, Mr Lines.'
His lips twitched with suppressed laughter, and he bent to pick up her other shoe and hand them both to her.
'I was just making myself a cup of coffee,' he said. 'Shall I make you one too, to help you recover from your nasty fright?'
For some reason the idea seemed very attractive, and she accepted without hesitation. He stood back to let her into his room, and while she seated herself on the little love-seat, Alex went to the kitchenette corner and poured two cups of coffee. He didn't ask her, but put a spoonful of sugar in hers, and no milk, and she realised he was observant enough to have noted and remembered her preference. The cover was stripped off the bed, and the sheet turned back, but he propped the pillow against the. wall and sat there with his back against it, looking at her.
'They told me that dress was something,' he said. 'They were dead right.'
'Thank you.'
'It makes your eyes look the same colour.'
'Does it?' She sipped her coffee, looking down into the cup.
'Mm-hmm. I can never decide what colour your eyes are. When I first saw you I thought they were grey, until you came closer, and then they were sea-green. Chameleon eyes,' he said softly.
She looked up quickly. 'That's what David called --' She took a gulp of hot coffee that made her eyes water.
Alex said casually, 'David was your fiancé, wasn't he?'
'Yes. Who told you about him?'
'Your mother did. Do you mind?'
Stacey took some more of her coffee. 'What did she tell you?'
'That you were engaged, and that he died just before the wedding. You must have been very young.'
'I was eighteen. My mother was seventeen when she married.'
'So she approved of your marrying young?'
'She always said she was glad that she and Daddy had as many years as they did. David and I didn't even get to have one.'
'I'm very sorry, Stacey,' he said gently. 'Had you known David very long?'
'For ever,' she said huskily. 'We were at school together. There was never anyone else for me. There never will be anyone else like him.'
His eyes rested intently on her bent head, but she was swirling the remaining coffee in her cup, not looking at him.
'Does that mean you don't intend to marry?' he asked.
'I don't know,' she said, shaking her head. Changing the subject, she asked, 'How was your party?'
'Fair,' he said. 'I met some new people. How was yours?'
'Terrific. We had a super time. I expected it to be a rather stuffy, affair—I suppose it was in a way, but we enjoyed it.'
'I imagine Graeme would enjoy being anywhere with you,' he said somewhat drily. 'He's the one who does the kissing, isn't he?'
As she glanced up, he said, 'I mean in the sense of the old saying that in every love affair, there is one who is kissed and one who does the kissing. You know it?'
'I've heard it, yes. But it wasn't like that with --'
'With you and David? I must say I prefer a fifty-fifty arrangement myself.'
'You believe in equality?' she asked, striving for a light note.
'You bet.' He smiled at her and drained his cup.
Stacey finished her coffee and stood up, handing over her cup as he came over to take it from her.
She picked up her shoes, and as she straightened he was still standing there, with a cup in each hand, smiling down at her. 'You're a little thing without your shoes, aren't you?' he said.
'That depends on your viewpoint,' she shrugged. 'Actually my height is about average.'
'From my viewp
oint,' he insisted, 'you're a little thing.'
She made a face, and he laughed and unexpectedly leaned forward to kiss her forehead.
'Goodnight, Cinderella,' he said.
Swinging her shoes in one hand, she made for the door as he crossed to the sink to put away the cups.
'Thanks for the coffee,' she said from the doorway. 'Goodnight, Alex.'
CHAPTER FIVE
It was not so difficult, after all, to get used to having' Alex around. He often spent the entire evening in his own room,, and sometimes Stacey only saw him at breakfast and dinner. He kept his own room tidy and clean, saying that as it was only one room he could manage that himself, and he frequently took a turn with the dishes.
He spent a good deal of his spare time in the garden, sometimes shirtless on warm days, and Stacey realised that the tan which she had wondered at in a teacher who spent his working life indoors was a result of his keen pleasure in the outdoors.
Fergus noticed this preference, too. Being an active member of a local tramping club himself, he invited Alex to join the club, which provided activities most weekends.
'How strenuous is it?' Alex grinned. 'I haven't done anything like that for years. Apart from gardening and the occasional long walk, my sporting activity has been confined to coaching cricket teams lately.'
'You're fit enough,' Fergus replied confidently. 'Come with us next Saturday. We're going to do a tramp in the Waitakere ranges. It's an easy track, and there will be several beginners with us, so the pace won't be too tough.'
Alex looked thoughtful, then said, 'Thanks, I'd like to try it.' Turning to Stacey, who had been sitting at a small distance from them, he asked, 'Have you tried it, Stacey? Your brother here is so keen, he must have attempted to make a convert of you, surely?'
'I used to be a member of the club,' she told him.
'She was keen, too,' Fergus said. 'One of those who was out every weekend.'
'What happened?' asked Alex curiously.
'I just lost interest,' she said shortly, and got up and walked away.
'Damn!' Alex muttered softly, turning to Fergus. 'Put my foot in it, did I?'
