Storm Force Page 8

  ‘Oh, I think I’ll hang on, and wait for her. It’s pleasant here.’ He sat down on the grass. He was wearing white shorts, rather too trim for his girth, and a T-shirt with the manufacturer’s brand name on the pocket.

  ‘I do have rather a lot to do, Mr Forester. I was counting on being on my own today.’

  ‘Yes, you look busy, I must say.’ He smiled at her. He had very white teeth, and he showed them a lot. ‘Your back’s getting red. Shall I put some oil on it for you?’ He reached for the bottle.

  ‘No, thank you.’ Her voice shook a little. ‘I can manage.’

  ‘It’ll be my pleasure.’ He tipped some oil into his hand, and began to massage it into her bare skin.

  Maggie lay, tense as whipcord, her teeth gritted, as the podgy hand kneaded and stroked the length of her spine.

  ‘Shall I do the rest of you?’ He slid a sly finger under the elasticated edge of her bikini briefs.

  ‘No.’ She bit the word.

  ‘You don’t have to be shy with me, Margaret. We’re going to be friends. You’re going to be my daughter.’

  ‘No,’ she said fiercely. ‘You’re going to marry my mother. It’s hardly the same thing.’

  ‘Well, if you want to be nit-picking.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘This is a nice quiet spot, I must say. Ideal for getting an all-over tan. Have you ever thought about it?’

  ‘No, and I really should be getting indoors now. I’m going over to Janette’s house. She’s expecting me.’

  ‘Oh, don’t run away.’ His hand was on her back again, pressing her down on to the rug, anchoring her there. ‘I’ve been looking forward to getting together with you, Margaret, getting to know you really well. You can be a bit stand-offish at times, but I’m sure you don’t mean to be.’ His hand slid down and rested familiarly on her bottom.

  Maggie gave a small choked cry, and twisted round, trying to slap his hand away. She realised her mistake at once.

  ‘Well, well,’ Leslie Forester said gloatingly, his eyes riveted on her bare breasts.

  She snatched at her top, but he was too quick for her. His hands grabbed her shoulders, turning her, forcing her on to her back on the rug, while his knee slid between her thighs.

  He said thickly, ‘You know you want this, you little bitch. You girls nowadays are all the same, leading men on, showing everything you’ve got. I’ve seen the way you look at me.’

  ‘No.’ Maggie thrust at his chest with both hands. ‘Let go of me. Leave me alone.’

  ‘That’s what they all say.’ His voice was hoarse. ‘But you’ll think differently when you find out what Uncle Leslie’s got for you.’

  It was going to happen to her—the ultimate horror. Here in her own garden, in the sunlight, in the middle of the day. She saw the glitter of his eyes, his red face sweating with anticipation, and she began to scream, a wild animal sound filled with terror and disgust.

  ‘Stop it.’ He tried to put a hand over her mouth, and she bit it hard, and screamed again. In some fainting corner of her consciousness, she realised the lawnmower had stopped, and knew she had to go on screaming.

  The sounds tore out of her, hurting her throat, straining her lungs, filling the universe.

  But he was too strong for her. His hands were everywhere, trapping her, pinning her down. The more she struggled, the less she seemed able to move …

  ‘Hush,’ he was saying. ‘Quiet now. You’re all right.’

  She opened dazed eyes. The sunlight had gone, and the garden. She was in bed, tangled in sheets and covers which had wrapped themselves round her like swaddling bands. It was dark, and Jay was bending over her, his hands on her shoulders.

  ‘No.’ She tried to fling herself away from him, panic destroying her reason.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. You’re having a dream, that’s all. Keep still, while I put the lamp on.’

  ‘A dream?’ Her voice cracked, as she began to remember. ‘Oh, yes.’

  Lamplight sent the shadows scurrying back into the corners, but it did not dismiss them completely. She began to shake.

  ‘Can I get you something?’ He stood beside the bed, watching her frowningly. ‘A glass of water—some tea—anything?’

  ‘No.’ Her teeth chattered. ‘I—I’ll be all right now. I’m sorry I woke you. Please go back to bed. I’m fine.’

  ‘You look like a ghost,’ Jay told her uncompromisingly. He was wearing a towel draped round his hips, and apparently nothing else. His presence made the small room shrink even further. ‘And I can see you trembling from here, lady.’

  He sat down on the edge of the bed, and took her hands in his, ignoring her feeble effort to pull them away again.

  ‘That must have been quite a nightmare,’ he said conversationally. ‘Would you like to talk about it?’

  She shook her head, her eyes enormous. ‘It’s just something that happens—that comes back to me occasionally. The last time was two years ago. I thought I’d grown out of it—I really did …’ She became aware she was babbling, and relapsed into silence.

  ‘Does your doctor know about it?’

  ‘He’s very busy,’ she said defensively. ‘I wouldn’t trouble him about anything so trivial.’

  ‘Trivial?’ Jay’s brows lifted. ‘Maggie, you were yelling so loudly, I thought Peeping Tom had come back with reinforcements.’

  She said stiffly, ‘I’ve already apologised for disturbing you. There’s really nothing you can do.’

  ‘Unlike your busy doctor, I could listen.’

  ‘There’s nothing to listen to either. It happens so rarely these days. It truly isn’t important.’

  It was important once. Years ago, just after it happened, I used to wake up night after night feeling his breath on my face, those pudgy, clammy hands fumbling at me—trying to strip me.

  She shuddered convulsively, and Jay’s mouth tightened.

  ‘Your protests don’t convince me, Maggie. I’m staying until you calm down.’

  ‘But there’s no need …’

  ‘I need to,’ he interrupted quietly, but firmly. ‘Are you sure I can’t make you something to drink?’

  ‘Quite sure, and I’d rather be on my own.’

  ‘That has a familiar ring.’ He allowed her to free her hands from his, and sat back, the blue eyes surveying with a certain irony the prim lines of her Victorian-style nightgown, its lace collar buttoned to the throat. ‘You don’t give an inch, do you, Maggie? Not even when you’re asleep.’

  ‘This is East Anglia,’ she said curtly. ‘I don’t dress for glamour while I’m here, but for warmth and comfort.’

  ‘Then you’re certainly achieving your aim.’

  ‘I’m sure that isn’t intended as a compliment.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘But it’s restored the light of battle to your eyes. I don’t like to see you so cowed, Ginger.’

  ‘Please don’t call me that.’

  ‘Sebastian does.’

  ‘He’s to blame for a number of things,’ she said bitterly. ‘Please will you go now, and leave me in peace.’

  ‘You have a strange idea of peace. The noises you were making suggested the torment of the damned.’

  ‘Well, it’s all over now.’ Maggie extended a hand. ‘See, no shakes.’

  ‘But you’re still as white as a sheet, and your eyes look bruised.’ Jay paused. ‘Maggie, I think you should spend the rest of the night with me.’

  Her lips parted on a gasp of sheer incredulity. When she could speak, ‘I bet you do,’ she said derisively.

  ‘What I said earlier still applies,’ he said quietly. ‘But you’ve clearly had an unpleasant shock, and I don’t think you should be alone.’

  ‘Well, there we must differ, Mr Delaney. And I think it’s contemptible to use my distress to pull a cheap trick like this.’

  ‘I’m not trying to pull anything, lady, yourself included. You need company—comfort. How many other times did you wake up screaming and alone?’


  ‘That’s none of your concern. Stick to saving the world each week on television, and leave my personal traumas to me.’

  His face tautened. ‘You wouldn’t turn to me for help if I was the last man on earth, would you?’

  ‘You’re learning at last.’ Her breathing quickened. ‘Now please get out.’

  Jay shook his head. The blue eyes held hers grimly. ‘I prefer my original idea,’ he said, and jerked back the covers.

  Maggie gave a little outraged cry, and tried to snatch at the bedspread.

  ‘Oh for pity’s sake,’ Jay snapped. ‘You’re already wearing enough material for a fair-sized tent—and my memory isn’t that bad anyway,’ he added pointedly.

  Colour stormed into her face. ‘Swine.’

  ‘Hardly an original concept,’ he said. ‘But you are under a fair amount of stress. Now, are you going to walk to the other bedroom, or am I going to carry you?’

  ‘Neither.’ Maggie’s hand slid under the pillow, and emerged holding the knife she had hidden there the day before. ‘I knew you couldn’t be trusted—that you wouldn’t be able to resist playing the great lover, so I decided to protect myself.’

  ‘So I see.’ Jay regarded the length of the blade without expression. ‘One of drama’s first rules says that if you produce a gun on stage it has to be used. I suppose the same applies to knives. What are you planning? To fall on the blade, crying “Death before dishonour”?’

  ‘I intend,’ Maggie said between her teeth, ‘to use it on you.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’ Jay swept a hand from his throat to his hip. ‘Choose your target, lady.’

  She tightened her grip on the handle, staring at him. ‘Aren’t you even bothered?’

  ‘That depends on how good your aim is.’

  She said unevenly, ‘You’re laughing at me—you bastard.’ Suddenly it was all too much—all the disappointment, the terrors and the shocks of the past twenty-four hours. There was nothing within her but anger and pain, and he was the focus of it all.

  Her voice rose, sharp with hysteria. ‘You bastard,’ she repeated, and she lunged at him with the knife.

  His hand shot out and grasped her wrist, not gently. ‘That’s enough.’ His voice was grim. ‘Now put the knife down, Maggie, before you cut yourself. I said—drop it.’

  She gasped, the furious colour draining from her face. She looked from him to the knife in her hand with horrified incredulity, then threw it away from her with all her strength, hearing it strike the wall at the other end of the room and clatter to the floor.

  For a moment, there was total silence. She could hear no sound other than her own ragged breathing. And then she covered her face with both hands and began to cry with great tearing sobs that threatened to wrench her apart.

  Jay lifted her into his arms and held her there, her wet face pressed against his bare shoulder, soothing her as if she had been a child, his hand rhythmically stroking the tangle of red hair.

  Slowly, as she wept, the fury and the pain began to dissolve, and there was nothing left but a vast and icy desolation.

  At last she lifted her head, and looked at him through her blurred and swollen eyes.

  She said, the words catching in her throat, ‘I don’t want to be alone any more,’ and knew it was the truth.

  ‘You don’t have to be.’ He rose to his feet, and walked, still holding her, into the other bedroom.

  He put her gently into the bed and covered her with the quilt. As he turned away, she caught at his hand.

  ‘Don’t leave me—please.’

  ‘I left your lamp on. I’ll be back.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Don’t go.’

  He stroked the hair back from her damp forehead. ‘It’s all right, darling. Everything’s going to be all right.’

  He extinguished the light by the bed, and she felt the mattress give slightly as he came to lie beside her.

  She turned to him, eagerly, desperately, pressing her slender length against him, knowing sudden impatience with the hampering folds of fabric which separated them. She lifted her hands and began to tug, clumsy with haste, at the small mother-of-pearl buttons which fastened her nightdress.

  His fingers captured hers, halting them in their self-imposed task. ‘Relax,’ he whispered. ‘There’s no hurry. We’ve all the time in the world.’

  His lips touched her softly—her forehead, her temples, her eyes, and her cheekbones. His arms cradled her, holding her to him. She spread her hand across his chest, and felt the beat of his heart, strong and very steady, pulsate under her fingers. It was a strangely reassuring rhythm, and she felt the last tensions seeping out of her at the contact.

  She was surrendering, not just physically, but emotionally too, drifting on some wide, uncharted sea, but it felt good. It felt right. Nothing in the universe existed outside this room, this bed, and the man who held her so warmly and so safely.

  Nothing.

  She tried to tell him so, but the words wouldn’t come. Everything was slipping away from her in some slow, mysterious way, and she was content to allow it. So very content, she thought with drowsy amazement.

  As her eyes closed, she was smiling.

  A sound like distant thunder woke her. She half sat up, staring dazedly round her. Watery sunlight was pouring through a chink in the curtains, illuminating the room.

  For a moment, she felt completely disorientated, then, as she began to remember, as the events of the previous night started to crowd in on her, her heartbeat quickened painfully.

  She turned her head slowly and fearfully and looked down at the pillow beside her. It wasn’t imagination, or another bad dream. Jay Delaney was here, lying beside her, fast asleep.

  Oh, no, Maggie moaned silently. Her hands stole up and covered her mouth as she strove desperately to recall exactly what had happened—every last detail. She had been in Jay’s arms, he had been kissing her, and she had begun to feel sleepy. That was as much as she could call to mind, but was it all that had happened?

  She was still wearing her nightdress, she noticed with relief, so things, surely, couldn’t have gone too far. But through no fault of yours, her inconvenient memory reminded her. You wanted to take it off.

  She gave a small horrified groan, then tensed as Jay stirred, muttering something restlessly. The blue eyes flickered open and focused. He stared at her for a long moment, then propped himself up on one elbow, and smiled.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said softly. ‘Did you sleep well?’

  She said feebly, ‘I—I think so. I don’t remember.’

  ‘What an admission—your first time in bed with a man.’

  She sank her teeth into her lip. ‘In fact,’ she went on with painful resolution, ‘I can’t remember much at all.’ She hesitated. ‘Did you—did we …?’

  He gave her a look of sheer incredulity. ‘Darling,’ he said reproachfully. ‘I realise you’re a sound sleeper, but is that all my passion meant to you?’

  ‘Don’t wind me up about this—please. I have to know.’ Her hands clamped together as if in prayer. ‘I mean, I practically invited you …’

  ‘And naturally, I couldn’t wait to take advantage of a distraught girl at the end of her tether.’ Suddenly, he wasn’t smiling any more. The blue eyes were glacial. ‘Oddly enough, jaded as I am, I prefer my paramours conscious. It adds that extra spice to the encounter.’

  She flushed miserably. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m so confused. I can’t believe I’ve done any of this.’

  ‘What are you accusing yourself of now? We slept together, because you needed comfort, but that’s all we did. You can’t be that naïve, lady. If I’d been your lover last night, your body would know about it this morning.’

  She avoided his ironic glance. ‘I—I suppose so.’

  ‘I know so,’ Jay said with a touch of grimness. ‘For a bright lady, you can sometimes be incredibly silly.’

  She was silent. For all his reassurances, her body did feel different, she
thought with amazement. She felt keyed up, every nerve-ending, every cell tingling and alive in some new way. And there were sensations deep inside her she had never experienced before, a strange intense heat—a fluid melting …

  Oh, lord, Maggie thought, as her throat constricted in mingled excitement and alarm. I’d better pull myself together—get out of here before I do something even more stupid.

  ‘It’s time I was getting up.’ The words almost fell out. She pulled back her cuff, and looked at her watch. ‘Heavens, it’s almost midday.’ She began to move towards the edge of the bed, but Jay reached out a long arm, and pulled her back.

  ‘Relax,’ he said. ‘There’s no hurry. We have all the time in the world.’

  They were the words he had used to her last night, she realised, but now, in daylight, they were different—holding all kind of implications, connotations which she dared not examine too closely.

  His hand touched her shoulder. She felt the pressure of his fingers through the heavy cotton as if she were naked. He cupped her chin, turning her face up to his. Smiling faintly, he brushed her parted lips with his finger.

  He was going to kiss her, she thought dizzily, and if he did, if she allowed it, she would be lost.

  She thought, I need a miracle.

  As Jay bent towards her, she heard again the noise that had woken her. But this time she recognised it for what it was, and it wasn’t distant thunder, at all, or anything to do with the weather.

  She twisted away from him. ‘There’s someone downstairs—someone at the door.’

  ‘They’ll soon go away.’ His tone was lazy, but preoccupied as well.

  ‘I must answer it. It might be Mr Grice to say that the track is open—that we can leave.’

  She tried to wriggle away, but he held her, his gaze boring deeply into hers.

  ‘And if it is?’ he asked, ‘Can you tell me honestly, Maggie, that you still want me to go?’

  The hammering on the door downstairs was no louder than the beating of her heart. One small word was all it would take, or maybe she would only have to shake her head …