Duel of Desire

by Charlotte Lamb

  She stretched, her arms lifted over her head. Under her lowered lashes she saw the grey eyes move swiftly over her as the movement outlined her body under the sheet covering her. 'What time is it?' she asked casually.

  'Eleven o'clock,' he said tersely, turning away, his hands thrust down into the back pockets of his jeans. He was wearing a black strawcloth shirt through which she-could see the silver medallion Sammy had given him.

  She was astonished. 'As late as that? Why didn't you knock hours ago?' 'I did,' he said grimly, 'but there was no reply.' His profile was taut. 'So in the end I came round to see…' He broke off whatever he had been about to say. Curiously, Deborah probed the unyielding profile.

  'See what?' she asked lightly.

  He turned to her, his eyes icy. 'For God's sake! I thought…' He seemed unable to put it into words.

  She frowned, puzzled. Thought…?' Her eyes widened. 'What did you think, Alex? That I'd gone?'

  He bit out the words savagely. 'That, or… how did I know? There wasn't a sound from you, and the desk clerk told me you hadn't checked out. Your key wasn't down there, so you couldn't have gone out. About a hundred different possibilities existed.'

  'Such as what?' she asked, smiling with amusement.

  He did not look amused. 'You might be sick,' he said grimly. 'Or worse.'

  Deborah's blue eyes watched him through the veil of her lashes. 'Did you think I might be dead, Alex?' The question was softly teasing.

  He turned towards the french windows, 'Get up and we'll go round to see Ricky,' he said. 'He rang an hour ago to find out why we weren't there. You've got him mesmerised, he can't wait to see you again.'

  She asked his retreating back, 'You didn't think I might have committed suicide, Alex?' Her tone was as smooth as silk.

  'If you ever feel Like that I'll save you the trouble,' he said bitterly. 'Sooner or later someone's going to wring your neck, anyway.'

  She laughed. He went out, slamming the french window shut behind him so that the glass shivered and the curtains blew back into the room.

  He might be furious, she thought, walking into the bathroom, but he could not disguise the fact that anxiety had run beneath his anger.

  She dressed and joined him ten minutes later. 'What about breakfast?' he asked her curtly. 'I had mine hours ago.'

  'I'm not hungry,' she said truthfully. 'But I would like some coffee.'

  'I'm sure Ricky will provide some, then,' he said unpleasantly.

  They drove to the villa in silence. This morning, in bright sunlight, it slept in graceful peace, the lawns so smooth they did not look real, the brilliant colours of the spring flowers still carrying dew at their centres. A gardener in a straw hat was moving about, hosing the borders, his shoulders damp with perspiration. Ricky met them, sulkily demanding of Deborah why she was so late. She apologised, explaining that she had overslept, and he looked sideways at Alex, his frown making it clear he suspected them of having been together all night.

  Alex's jaw clenched. 'Are we going to swim?' he asked tersely.

  'Come round to the pool,' said Ricky, still sullen. He was wearing a brief white pair of trunks, slung low on the hip, his body smoothly golden from the sun. Against his brown body his white hair looked even more fantastic.

  Alex moved away rapidly and they walked after him. Ricky gave Deborah a reproachful look. 'You said you weren't his girl,' he accused.

  'I overslept because I was tired,' she said softly. 'I've never slept with Alex. Sorry to disillusion you, but some of us still have old-fashioned values. If I slept with someone it would be because I loved him. Alex isn't my lover.'

  His eyes searched her face, then he grinned. 'What are you, a museum piece? I thought that sort of attitude went out with elastic-sided boots?'

  She shrugged. 'You may be right.'

  He grimaced. 'Marriage or nothing, eh?'

  Her eyes lowered. Once she might have said that, but now she knew that had Alex said he loved her she would not have sent him away. Her own love for him was too strong. 'Love or nothing,' she said huskily. 'Sex without it is as meaningless as food when one has no appetite.'

  Ricky frowned, his thin face bothered. 'My mum would agree with you, but I never expected to find another woman who talked like that.'

  She laughed. 'You should find yourself one, Ricky.'

  They reached the pool, strolling at a slow pace. Alex had already changed and was standing on the smooth white tiles, staring into the artificially blue water. Ricky paused, a few feet from him, and looked at her wickedly. 'I've just found one, haven't I?'

  She flushed, looking at him with surprise. 'I meant…' she began, and he said teasingly, 'I know what you meant, darling.' Alex glanced over his shoulder at them, his eyes chips of grey ice.

  'I'll change,' Deborah said hurriedly, ducking into the small building beside the pool.

  When she emerged a while later both men were in the water, tossing a red beach-ball from one to the other. She dived into the pool, her slender body cutting the water cleanly. She swam the length of the pool slowly, then trod water, watching as the men continued playing their game. 'Come and play.' Ricky invited.

  She shook her head, her wet hair flicking across her shoulders. For a while she lazed, drifting on the water, then she climbed out and lay down on a low blue lounger, staring at the incredible blue sky.

  A few moments later the two men joined her. Alex sat down under a red umbrella, beside a white table, and poured himself a glass of lemonade. Ricky took the lounger adjacent to hers and grinned at her. 'Like a drink now?'

  'She hasn't had any breakfast,' said Alex. 'I suppose there's no chance of some coffee?'

  'No,' Deborah said quickly. 'It's nearly lunchtime now. It doesn't matter.'

  'Sure?' Ricky asked. 'My housekeeper could bring you some croissants and coffee, you know.'

  'I'm certain,' she said.

  'You're having lunch here, aren't you?'

  Ricky asked.

  She glanced at Alex, who surveyed her unsmilingly. 'Why, thank you,' he said pleasantly, but his expression was far from pleasant. 'We've still got a lot to talk about, Ricky. This is very enjoyable, but we have to talk some time.'

  'Yeah,' said Ricky, leaning back, his slim shoulders settling against the lounger. 'Later…' His hand moved and trailed over her naked thigh. 'Are you awake sleeping beauty?'

  Deborah opened her eyes to smile at him. 'Just about. This sunshine is soporific.'

  'Nice word,' he said mockingly. 'What does it mean?'

  'It makes me feel sleepy,' she said, laughing.

  ..'It certainly doesn't describe you, then,' he said, uncaring of Alex's listening presence. 'You don't affect me like that at all.'

  She wrinkled her nose at him. In the past such a remark from a young man might have irritated her, but she treated it lightly now. Her realisation that she loved Alex had given the world a new brightness, freeing her from many of her cherished inhibitions. She felt laughter bubbling inside her chest. Happiness seemed to course in her blood. It was curious that despite her pain that Alex could not return the love she felt, she was so euphoric in his presence. Her nerves were newly sensitised. Everything seemed to be new to her. Her eyes saw the world with fresh clarity. Smiles of pure delight curved her mouth. She felt free, free of the old longing for affection and security, the obsessive pattern-making which had made her arrange everything in her life so neatly. There was no room for anything inside her but her love for Alex now. It had changed everything.

  Ricky moved restlessly. 'How about another swim?' he asked her.

  She cheerfully got up and they entered the water again. For some time they swam side by side, then played with the beach-ball. Ricky teased her about her poor aim, and Deborah flung the ball straight at him, catching him in the chest so that he slid down into the water. Coughing, he came up and pursued her for vengeance, while she laughed and fled, climbing out of the pool, dripping.

  Alex looked coldly at her as she sank down o
n the lounger. Ricky stood over her, breathing fast, his hands on his hips.

  Shaking back his wet blond hair he said in mock wrath, 'I'll owe you for that, darling.'

  'Can we talk now?' Alex asked him abruptly.

  Ricky groaned. 'Persistent devil, aren't you? Okay, fire ahead.'

  They talked for almost an hour, sitting around the table, the sunshine glinting off the blue water, the fragrance of the flowers which surrounded the pool in white tubs, scenting the warm air. Ricky looked suddenly at his watch and made a face. 'Madame will be waiting for us to go in to lunch.' He jumped up. 'We'll change first, Alex.'

  While the two men changed Deborah lay with eyes closed, enjoying the silence and warmth of the morning. The sun was growing stronger as the day wore on, but she enjoyed the feel of it as it soaked into her skin, bringing a flush to it. When she heard a step she lazily opened her eyes, and her heart hammered as her gaze encountered Alex's grey eyes. They were moving lingeringly over her slender body. The black bikini left so little to the imagination that it merely drew attention to the swell of her white breasts, the flatness of her stomach, the long curve of her hips and thighs. She felt her breasts grow heavy under his gaze, the nipples tauten so that they were visible under the silken cloth.

  Ricky came out of the changing-room, apparently oblivious of the atmosphere between them. Cheerfully he said, 'I'll run in and tell Madame we're on our way. dome along when you're ready, Deb.'

  He vanished at a graceful lope, his boy's body slim in his white pants and T-shirt. Deborah slid to the floor and turned to go into the changing-room. Alex stood in front of the door, and she looked at him warily.

  He moved out of the way abruptly and she passed him. When she came out a few moments later he was walking back towards the house, his dark head erect. Sighing, she followed.

  They had a very enjoyable lunch; homemade pate with crisp golden toast and a small salad, trout au Bretonne, the flesh white and melting, served with deliciously cooked prawns, followed by fresh fruit. Kicky picked at his food. 'I have to watch my diet,' he sighed.

  On the flower-bordered patio in the sunlight, Ricky kept Deborah amused by his tales of life on the road, the boredom, excitement and lethargy which he had suffered.

  'I think you miss it,' she said shrewdly.

  He made a face. 'Like I miss a hole in the head.' Then he quirked a grin at her. 'Yeah, maybe I do, too.'

  In the middle of the afternoon Alex said coolly, 'We really have to go now, Ricky. Both Deborah and I have important appointments in London tomorrow. We have to get that plane.'

  Ricky was reluctant to let them go. 'Sure you can't stay on?' he asked Deborah pleadingly.

  She smiled at him. Despite his aggressive sexuality there was a good deal of the little boy in him, and she felt easy in his company. He talked a lot about sex, but she had not felt any real apprehension about his feelings. He just enjoyed talking about music and his early life to her. Many of the people he met out here in Nice were strangers to the world he had led in London as a young boy. No doubt he felt rootless, alienated.

  'When you fly over to London you must come to dinner at my flat,' she said. 'I'll cook you Irish stew to remind you of the old days in digs.'

  He laughed. 'Don't forget to put more bones than meat into it, then,' he said. 'I'll take you up on that.'

  Ricky accompanied them to their car, waving until they were out of sight. Alex gave her a dry, sideways look. 'He'll be hoping for a lot more than Irish stew,' he said crisply. 'You've never invited one of our clients to your flat before.'

  She shrugged. 'Ricky's rather sweet, don't you think?'

  'Sweet?' His voice held distaste. 'I wonder if Robin will take the same attitude? Or will his mercenary mind ignore what's going on?'

  'Robin isn't mercenary,' she said indignantly.

  Alex made a sound of disgust. 'Do you think he doesn't know I've fancied you for years? I've made no secret of the fact.'

  She flushed. After a pause she said, 'Yes, Robin thinks…' Her voice halted in embarrassment.

  'He knows,' he said harshly. 'He knows damned well I want you.'

  She stared at the white sun-dazzled road. 'But he trusts me,' she said, in deliberate provocation.

  Alex's hands tightened on the wheel. The car surged forward, taking a corner at incredible speed. For the rest of the drive they said nothing. Deborah went into her own room and began to pack her case. Alex tapped on the door and came into the room, a frown on his face.

  'What's wrong?' she asked, intuitively sensing something was worrying him.

  'I've still had no reply from my mother,' he said. 'Look, I think I'll drive over there this afternoon. Our ticket is for the six o'clock flight, isn't it? I can get there and back before the flight leaves. If Mother isn't at the cottage I'll go into the village and see if anyone there knows anything.'

  Concerned, she asked, 'Would you like me to come with you?' She knew she could not leave him to face possible bad news on his own. His worry about his mother was at least a sign that he could care deeply about another human being, and she could not bear to think of him being faced with anxiety or grief alone.

  He looked at her harshly. 'I'm sure you'd rather go back to Ricky's villa and enjoy yourself with him. It will be a dull drive, and it may be a wild goose chase. Mother may be visiting someone.'

  Her blue eyes were gentle. 'Do you want me to come or not, Alex?' she asked him steadily.

  He made an irritable face. 'Come if you like,' he said indifferently. 'We'll check out of the hotel when we get back. Leave the rest of your packing until later.'

  They drove out of Nice at a fast speed, passing upwards through rough mountain countryside, the road steep and busy with traffic. Alex seemed to have little to say to her. Once or twice he said something about the countryside, but otherwise they went on in silence, each cocooned in their own thoughts.

  The countryside flattened. Cypress trees made a dark shade at the side of the road. Fields ran on either side. They had been driving for half an hour when the sky began to cloud over and rain began to fall, gently at first, and then in a heavy downpour which forced Alex to slow to a crawl, his wipers clicking to and fro rapidly to clear the rush of rain from his view.

  Ahead of them they could now see that the sky was black. Inky clouds hovered low over the horizon, although behind them they could still see the halcyon blue skies of the coast in the distance.

  Alex swore under his breath. 'We're running into a storm,' he said harshly. 'You should have stayed in Nice.'

  'I'm not frightened of a little rain,' Deborah shrugged.

  'A little!' he snorted disgustedly. 'My God, girl, it's going to get worse before it gets better.'

  They turned off the highway a short time later, running along narrow lanes through isolated hamlets until they began to descend a steep road. The storm increased in violence, and on these narrow country roads Alex had to drive with great care. The roads curved crazily, and the state of their surfaces left a good deal to be desired. The car jerked and bounced over ruts and rough surfaces, the sound of the storm outside growing louder and louder.

  Deborah rubbed at her side window, peering out. They had closed all the windows and the interior of the car had steamed up. Lightning tore down the black sky, the flash of it making her start violently. She shrank away from the window, her hand automatically reaching for the security of Alex's arm. The sonorous toll of the thunder seemed to be right above them. She was shaken with terror. The sound deafened her. She clutched at Alex instinctively, just as he was taking a bend, and the movement made his arm jerk. The car veered sharply to the wrong side of the road. Luckily they were going at such a slow speed that when they hit a tree the impact merely threw them both forward and made the car bonnet fly upward. Dazed, Deborah sat up, her forehead throbbing from the blow it had received on the dashboard, Alex disentangled himself from the steering wheel, clutching his midriff.

  'Alex! Are you hurt?' Anxiously she turned in her seat t
o face him, her own pain forgotten.

  He groaned. 'I'm not dead,' he said grimly. 'But that damned steering wheel was rammed into me hard. I feel as though I'd been kicked in the stomach by a mule.'

  She leaned across, worried. Without pausing to think she pushed back his shirt hurriedly and ran her fingers over the bare skin of his midriff, examining it for signs of injury, trying to see how hurt he had been. There, does that hurt?' she asked, her fingers pressing into his flesh gently.

  'Like hell,' he said, his voice suddenly hoarse.

  She looked at him quickly and her heart thudded. His voice and face told her clearly enough that he was not referring to any injury. She pulled her hands away, hot colour sweeping to her hairline.

  Unclipping her seat-belt, she opened the car door and scrambled out. The rain poured down, rapidly saturating her clothes and flattening her hair to her temples. Alex joined her, apparently in control of his face once more, his expression grim as he surveyed the bonnet of the car. He slammed the bonnet down, making a wry face.

  'We've made a mess of the radiator,' he said.

  'I'm sorry,' she stammered. 'It was my fault.'

  He shrugged. Rain ran down his face and soaked through his shirt, making it cling to his body so closely she could see every muscle clearly outlined, as though he were naked. 'At least we're alive,' he said. 'All I hope is that we can start the car again. We're about a mile from my mother's cottage and there's no village for hour miles back. The nearest garage is about seven miles off.'

  They got back into the car. 'Keep your lingers crossed,' he said, starting the ignition. Astonishingly, it sprang to life at the second attempt, and he carefully reversed back from the tree. They started to drive around the corner and emerged on to a flat narrow road bordered on one side by trees through which she could just see a river bank. On the other ran orchards whose blossom-covered branches tossed wildly to and fro in the wind.

  Alex sighed with relief, driving a little faster. The rain still ran in rivers across their windscreen. The sky was almost as dark as if it were night. But they were at least able to drive. He gave Deborah a smile of pure relief. 'Another five minutes and we should see Mother's cottage. It's the only building for miles.'