Lucifer's Brand

by Nicola West

  The opal ring still glowed, the deep red of its centre looking like a heart of fire. She stared at it. It had been there such a short time—less than half an hour, her watch told her, though it seemed much, much longer.

  Slowly, she drew it from her finger, opened the drawer and put it back into its little box. Whether Roxanne's accusations had been true or not, she could not wear it again until she had seen Luke. Until he himself had slipped it on to her finger.

  Trying to keep her misery at bay, Flair worked steadily through the rest of the morning. She refused lunch, asking Janet only for coffee when the secretary came in to say that she was going in a few minutes, and as she drank it she thought over Roxanne's words and admitted to herself that they could well be true. She had been surprised, taken aback, by Luke's declaration of love—up to then she had thought him alternately indifferent to and attracted by her. But his attraction had only been physical, a kind of lust; she had sensed that from the beginning, even when she had acknowledged her own love. And now it seemed to be confirmed.

  She bent her head and rested it on her hand, allowing the full weight of her unhappiness to sweep over her. If only she could hate him! But underneath all the doubts, all the bitterness that she could have been so taken in, she knew that her own love Was as strong and true as ever. And that made the pain so much harder to bear.

  Was it all true? Was Luke just stringing her along to prevent Jeff from suing him? There was only one way to find out. With a quick glance at her watch, Flair saw that her father should be leaving his own office now for lunch. If she hurried, she might still just catch him. ...

  Jeff's office was near the shopping malls, a little farther down St George's Terrace from the Seager Hotel. He was just coming out when Flair hurried up to the door, and his face broke into a smile at the sight of her.

  'Flair! What a nice surprise. It seems a long time since we met—we've been like Box and Cox at home lately, haven't we?'

  'I thought we might have a quick lunch together,' said Flair, and he nodded.

  'A nice idea—it'll have to be quick, though, I've a client coming at two and he's always punctual. Look, there's a small restaurant in London Court I go to when I'm in a hurry.'

  He led her into the narrow arcade built like an old-fashioned London street. Tiny shops selling gifts, souvenirs, books and clothes, lined the sides. Jeff turned aside into a small restaurant, cooled with air-conditioning, and found a quiet table.

  'I recommend the lasagne,' he said, handing Flair a menu. 'And they do some especially luscious tortes here, too. . . .'

  'That will be fine.' Flair handed the menu back. 'Dad, I want to talk to you. There's something I've got to know—something I heard this morning.'

  Jeff glanced at her, then turned to give his order to the waitress. It wasn't a licensed restaurant, so they had fresh orange juice, which came in large tumblers and tasted delicious. Once they were settled, Flair tried again.

  'Dad, is it true --'

  'Ssh,' he interrupted, 'here's our lasagne. You see why I come here when I'm in a hurry? It's so quick— and good, too. Not to mention cheap,' he added with a smile, and Flair looked at him in consternation.

  'Dad, you're not hard up?'

  'No, of course not—it was just a joke.' But she wasn't convinced. How much would it mean to her father if he lost the Seager contract? Quite a lot, it must do. Seager's must be the biggest contract he had—it took up nearly all his time. Lose that, and what would be left? Very little.

  'You aren't eating,' he reminded her gently. 'Flair, you're looking like a terrified rabbit. Whatever it is, it can't be that bad. What's happened?'

  Flair took a deep breath. The lasagne cooled on her plate, but she ignored it. She said in a low voice:

  'Dad, I've got to know. Is it true that your contract with Luke has been cancelled?'

  Jeff lowered his fork and looked at her. His face was grey, even his eyes seemed to have lost some of their colour, she noticed, but she wasn't sure if it had been like that before or not. She'd been too absorbed to look at him properly.

  'Has it?' she repeated urgently.

  'Who told you that?'

  'Roxanne did. It doesn't matter. Dad --'

  'Roxanne did?' His eyebrows raised. 'Oh well, I suppose there's not much that young woman can't worm out of her besotted father. And I'm not really one to talk about being besotted, anyway. But I did ask that it be kept quiet.'

  'You did? But why—oh, I suppose you thought it would spoil things for me. Well, you needn't have worried about that. I can get another job any day, I --'

  'It wasn't just your job,' Jeff interrupted, and Flair stared at him.

  'You mean you thought—you thought Luke and I --' The idea seemed almost incredible now. She pushed away the thought of the opal ring, of Luke's proposal in the streaming rain under the tingle tree. 'Dad, he's the most arrogant, hateful, woman-hating man I've ever had the misfortune to meet! Oh, I can see he'd attract some women—but not me! You can rest assured about that. I hope that if and when I ever do marry—and I'm not at all sure I'll ever want to—I'll be lucky enough to find a man who's a lot more sensitive and caring than Luke Seager. Otherwise I'll be happy to stay a spinster.'

  'Oh, Flair,' her father said, smiling, 'you sound so much like your mother—and you don't know what you're talking about. Because you're not like her. You're not cold and self-sufficient. You're not the career girl you think you are. You're the sort of person who needs someone to share life with—a partner, to love and be loved by. Someone to laugh with, someone to cry with. You've got a warm, loving nature, Flair, and it would be a crime to let it go to waste.' He paused and finished his lasagne. 'And you're wrong about Luke, too. He's a fine man. There's a lot you don't understand, Flair.'

  'I wouldn't be too sure of that, Dad,' said Flair, her voice shaky. 'I've learned a lot in these past few days. . . . I'm sorry, I'm not really hungry. Do you mind if I don't finish this? And I ought to be getting back now, anyway—there's any amount of work to do at the hotel.'

  Her throat choked with tears, she pushed her plate away and almost ran from the restaurant, while Jeff looked after her with a worried frown creasing his tired brow.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Luke returned late that afternoon. He was sunburnt from his sea trip and day on the island. He came into the office like a breath of fresh sea breeze and grasped Flair round the waist as she stood at a filing cabinet, sweeping her off her feet before she could speak.

  'Flair! Sorry I had to dash off like that this morning—goodness, I've missed you! Just didn't seem right without that little elfin face of yours and that gorgeous smile. Come on, give me a kiss and tell me how you liked the ring I left for you. Does it fit? We can soon have it altered if not.'

  Flair looked up and met his eyes. For a moment her heart twisted and she wanted to forget all her pain and doubt, to fling herself into his arms and let the world go by. But she couldn't do that, she reminded herself. If Roxanne were right, it was all a farce—all a huge lie, an act. Luke didn't really love her—didn't love anybody—but he was going to marry Roxanne anyway. The ring meant nothing; his words yesterday meant nothing.

  Luke's brows gathered in a puzzled frown. 'Flair?' he said questioningly. 'Flair, what is it? You look worried.'

  'Worried?' she repeated. 'Worried? Now why should I look worried? The world's my oyster, isn't it? I've got you, so I've got everything. Nothing else matters, does it.'

  'You don't sound as if you mean that,' he said. 'Flair, what is it? What's happened?'

  'That's what I'd like to know,' she retorted. 'You tell me! Just what has happened, Luke—have we got engaged or have I been taken for one long ride? I'd like to know-—not that it's really important, you understand, but a girl does like to have some idea of where she stands.'

  Luke's hands fell away from her and he took a step back. His face was genuinely puzzled—or was it just another stage in his act? she wondered bitterly. He certainly knew how to put it on.<
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  'Look, I don't know what idea you've got into your head,' he began, 'but I wish you'd give me some clue. Or am I supposed to guess? Because I'm not really in the mood for games, Flair, I warn you.'

  'And I am, of course!' she blazed. 'I just love spending the whole day wondering just what you're up to—getting a hint here, a clue there—piecing it all together for myself. Well, all right, Luke, just so you don't have to suffer the same way, here it is! You don't love me at all—you don't love anyone but Luke Seager—and you don't mean to marry me either. It's Roxanne, isn't it—she's the lucky girl who's going to be Mrs Luke Seager. Well, she'll need her luck, that's all I can say. She's welcome to you!'

  Luke's face hardened and she felt a tremor of fear as she caught his glance like a blast of icy wind. Almost automatically she put up a hand to ward him off as he moved nearer; but he merely gripped both her wrists in iron fingers and rasped at her:

  'And just where did you get all these cock-eyed ideas, Flair? You'd better tell me.' His fingers tightened so that she gasped with pain, but his eyes were cruel and she knew she could expect no mercy.

  'She told me! Roxanne told me herself—she said the merger wouldn't go through unless you married her, it's all virtually settled --'

  'I see.' His face was grim, his eyes like chips of stone. 'Very interesting. And just why am I getting myself engaged to you, then? It seems a little tactless, to say the least.'

  'Because of Dad,' Flair gasped, tears brimming from her eyes. 'Because you've cancelled his contract and you don't want him to sue you. Because you're going to use Ryan's architects. You—you've gone back on your word, you've wrecked his livelihood, and you've made sure it won't affect you in the slightest by pretending you love me. You know he wouldn't do anything to hurt me, and you're taking advantage of it.'

  'And you really think that?' Luke asked, his tones silky and dangerous.

  'How can I believe otherwise?' she flung at him. 'It all fits in, doesn't it—your behaviour, the way you wouldn't stop and make love to me yesterday once you were sure of me, the way you just left that ring here for me to find. And I know it's true, anyway—about Dad. I've seen him—I asked him.'

  Luke dragged her against him. She struggled, but it was useless. His breath was warm on her face as he spoke again, and his voice was hard and grating.

  'You've seen him? What did he say?'

  'That—that it was true. Luke, you're hurting me --'

  'I'll hurt you a damn sight more before this is finished,' he gritted. 'Go on. What did he say? What did he tell you?'

  'Just that it was true.' Now that she came to think of it, she hadn't given him much chance to say anything else, and he'd rather successfully changed the subject, but she wasn't telling Luke that. 'He told me the truth, what else is there?'

  Luke grunted, but his grip on her didn't relax. 'And you believe this too? That I've broken your father's contracts, that I'm going to marry Roxanne all to be sure of the merger? That's the way you see it, is it?'

  'Yes—-yes!' Flair gazed up at him through a haze of tears. 'What else can I believe?'

  'I don't know,' said Luke, staring down at her. 'I really don't know. Obviously, you won't believe anything I tell you, anyway. Well, I guess our engagement's off, then.' He let her go suddenly and shrugged while Flair staggered and put her hand to her head. 'That didn't last long, did It? Can't say I'm not sorry, even though I am such a bastard. I reckon I'd have enjoyed making love to you.' He turned suddenly and came nearer with a swift movement, a wicked gleam in his eye. 'In fact, that was one of the things you complained about, wasn't it? The fact that I didn't make love to you. Well, that's one thing I can put right!'

  Flair caught her breath. He couldn't mean it—he couldn't be intending to—but already his arms were around her, hard and strong. He lifted her easily, carrying her like a baby, and she felt him swing her across the office to the door that led to his own private quarters. She kicked and cried out as he strode across the lounge and flung open the farthest door; a door she'd never been through; the door that led to his bedroom....

  'Luke!' she panted, struggling and clawing at his back—the only part she could reach, since his arms were pinning hers close against his sides. 'Luke, no— please! Just let me go—let me leave now—Luke --'

  'Let you leave?' he snarled, throwing her down on the wide bed and standing over her as she lay sprawled on the soft duvet. 'Let you walk out of here after the things you've said—oh no, Flair, you don't get away with it that easily. You said you wanted me to make love to you, remember? You were disappointed that I didn't yesterday—oh yes, I know, but for some strange reason I thought you wanted to be respected, if you like that quaint old-fashioned phrase—I thought you'd rather wait. And I knew that if I did stop, if I just got you into my arms where no one else could see, there'd be no holding back. I've wanted you long and badly enough, Flair Pattison. What you've been doing to me ought to go down in the books as refined torture. And you're not getting away with it—whatever else happens or doesn't happen between you and me, I'm going to make damned sure of that!'

  Flair lay paralysed, her eyes wide and green, watching in terror as he locked the door. The room was large and dominantly masculine, decorated in shades of brown, black and gold. It seemed to fit Luke like his immaculate suits, like the well-cut jeans and silk shirt he wore now. Her body quivered as she watched him approach the bed again. She wanted desperately to get up and run, useless though it might be; but a strange, heavy languor swept over her, keeping her on the bed, dulling her mind. The only thing in sharp focus was Luke, and she was beginning to realise that she was powerless to resist.

  He was beside her now, leaning over her, his arms on each side of her so that she was pinned where she lay. His blue eyes glittered with the brilliance and hardness of sapphires. She smelt the fresh tang of his body and closed her eyes, turning her . head to one side. Strong fingers turned it back, and held it there while his lips came down on hers.

  Flair's senses swam. She tried to resist, to close her mouth against him, but his lips parted hers firmly, inexorably. She lay stiff, trying to ignore the effect produced by his searching mouth, trying to pretend that the hands that moved with practised ease over her body meant nothing, that their touch was alien to her. She tried, desperately, to think of something else.

  Luke moved so that he was lying beside her, half over her, his body warm on hers. His mouth left hers and moved slowly, sensuously across her face, closing her eyelids, nipping at her ears. He bent his head and blazed a trail down the slim column of her throat, coming to rest on the hollow where the pulse beat fast and jumpily.

  Almost against her will, Flair's arms crept up around his neck, drawing him closer. She had very nearly stopped thinking. Once again, she and Luke were in a world of their own, a world of languorous movement and touch and sensuality. She rubbed her face against his hair and sighed in the fragrance of it, that essentially masculine scent that seemed to belong exclusively to him. She moved her body against his, feeling her breasts swell and harden at the contact. Her thighs pressed against his; she felt the hardness of his contours against her own softness.

  Luke muttered something in a thick, husky voice. He unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it apart, burying his face in her breasts. Somehow, her bra was undone too, and he tugged it away and stayed for a moment looking down at her.

  'My God,' he muttered, 'you're lovely, Flair.' He lowered his face again, biting gently at her nipples, covering her breasts with tiny kisses, moulding them in his hands. Flair twisted closer to him, arching her back in invitation. She pulled at his own shirt, spreading her fingers over the golden hairs of his chest, then pulled him down again so that their skins met.

  'Luke,' she whispered, heedless of all her former determination, aware only of her desperate need for him, a primitive urge that had nothing to do with reason. 'Luke—love me—Luke—Luke—Luke. . . .'

  'Love you?' he muttered, undoing the waistband of her skirt with rapid finge
rs and pulling it away. 'Is it what you really want, Flair? We've been this far before, you know—don't turn back again now unless you really mean it.'

  'Love me!' she begged. His hands were running up and down her body, from neck to knee and she shuddered with longing. He lifted himself from her and twisted round, bending to nuzzle her feet, kissing each toe in turn, running his lips up her instep. Flair moved her other foot against his face, delighting in the feel of it, and felt his lips on the sole. Then, one arm outspread so that his hand could cover her breast, he let his mouth explore the length of her leg, tauntingly, provocatively from toe to thigh. Flair felt her entire body tingle. She clutched at his hand and arm with both hands; then let her arms slide round him as he came back to claim her mouth once more.

  They lay entwined, rocking to and fro together, mouths joined in a kiss that was deeper than any yet. Flair felt contentment flow through her, warm and comforting. Surely it had all been a terrible mistake. Luke did love her. He must do. Just as she loved him. Everything would be—it must be—all right.

  'Luke,' she whispered against his lips, 'I'm sorry about—about all that, I should have known better than to believe Roxanne. But you will put things right with Dad, won't you?'

  He stiffened at once and Flair realised with a sinking heart that she had spoken too soon. She felt him draw away from her, and when he spoke his voice was cool.

  'No, Flair, I'm sorry—I can't do that.'

  'But why not?' Her eyes looked into his, green clashing with blue. 'What's he done, Luke? Isn't his work good enough?'

  'His work's fine, Flair, you know that. But I can't do anything about those contracts. I've told you.'

  'But why not?'

  'I can't. It's not just up to me, it's --'