Living With The Enemy
Laura Martin
Fiancé or foe?When Lucy Harper reluctantly agreed to use writer Alex Darcy's villa in Majorca to get over her late husband, she had one condition–that the host would keep well out of her way. But Alex had other ideas. Assuming the role of a guardian angel, he helped Lucy out of her despair–and into his bed….And, it seemed, into his trap. For Alex hid a secret–a secret that, when she finally did learn the shocking truth, made Lucy wonder if she had been living with the enemy all along!
Alex was breaking her heart (#u5c2b2b52-d44e-56bf-83cb-7ab9e08c0e12)About the Author (#u7d8b9c07-77c4-5433-8f31-1d47bacf9ef1)Title Page (#u17dca716-d460-5fff-9513-6e289adaf9a4)CHAPTER ONE (#u00b6e7ab-8074-57f2-bb67-27f2dc17d2aa)CHAPTER TWO (#u489f07de-5a3a-530a-bf03-df9988fa0b5f)CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Alex was breaking her heart
“I just want to go home,” Lucy said quietly. “Away from this place. Back to England—”
“Away from me?”
She forced herself to look into his eyes. She couldn’t go on like this. There was no future in this crazy relationship; deep down she knew that. Men like Alex Darcy didn’t make commitments to girls like her.
“Yes,” she replied firmly. “Away from you.” She squared her shoulders and held herself upright. “Now, if you’d let go of my arm...”
Laura Martin lives in a small Gloucestershire village in England with her husband, two young children and a lively sheepdog! Laura has a great love of interior design and, together with her husband, has recently completed the renovation of their Victorian cottage. Her hobbies include gardening, the theater, music and reading, and she finds great pleasure and inspiration from walking daily in the beautiful countryside around her home
Living with the Enemy
Laura Martin
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE
LUCY pushed her trolley past the lines of holiday-makers towards the airport exit. She felt anxious. But then, she thought ruefully, when didn’t she?
Where was he? She stood awkwardly, trying not to look as if she were abandoned, but feeling dreadfully self-conscious amongst the bustle of people who streamed passed her and knew exactly where they were going.
Lucy’s gaze flicked back and forward. She felt dishevelled and she longed for a cool shower and a good lie-down. No one seemed the least bit interested in her presence. She scanned the crowds for a face that might fit. Charles had been his usual vague self, and she hadn’t thought in the rush of her departure to press for a description. Think, she told herself. What will he look like, this friend of Charles?
Her imagination did its best, but she had virtually nothing to go on. Most likely he would be of a similar type to her step-brother: heading towards middle age with a vengeance, medium height, medium weight, inclined to a paunch, maybe, from too much good food and not enough exercise.
I don’t care what he looks like, Lucy thought, as long as he turns up soon and rescues me.
Worried emerald eyes rested hopefully on a kindly looking man with thinning hair who stood a few feet away. He looked as if he was waiting for someone, maybe... But not me, Lucy thought despondently as a brightly dressed woman and two young children rushed gleefully towards him. Try again.
Of course, the flight had been delayed and that hadn’t helped the arrangement. Maybe Alex Darcy had got fed up waiting; maybe he had gone home. Maybe she would be standing here for the rest of the afternoon, looking and feeling like a lost soul...
‘Lucy Harper?’
She turned at the sound of the voice. It surprised her: deep and mellow, with an edge of huskiness that sent an unexpected tingle down her spine.
‘Yes?’ She looked up, then raised her eyes another foot. Not medium height or medium weight, she thought as she looked into the deepest, darkest eyes that she had ever seen. Not medium anything.
‘Hello, I’m Alex.’
His smile was wide and attractive. For a second Lucy stood bemused, looking up in wonder at her stunning companion. Black, glossy hair, a little longer than the norm, was swept back from a tanned, incredibly stunning face. Straight nose, high cheekbones, spiky lashes framing eyes which seemed to look right into her very soul...
All in all, it added up to something pretty special.
Lucy glanced down, disconcerted by Alex Darcy’s direct gaze, saw his outstretched hand and offered her own, feeling a curious sensation as skin touched skin and contact was made. ‘You were looking a little lost,’ he murmured. ‘Sorry I’m late. I went to the bar for a drink.’
‘The flight...’ She took a calming breath and managed a smile. ‘It was delayed.’
‘Yes.’ Velvet eyes considered her with serious intent for a moment. ‘You look tired. Come on, let’s get out of here. It’s chaos.’
He carried her bags outside. The warm, Mediterranean air was a welcome change after the cold, wet weather that Lucy had left behind in England, and as they walked across the tarmac to the airport car park she slipped off her knitted oatmeal jacket and draped it over her arm.
‘Quite a difference in temperature, I should imagine,’ Alex commented easily as he unlocked the doors of the sleek maroon Jaguar. ‘Are you looking forward to your stay?’
Should she be honest? Lucy bit down on her bottom lip and decided that it wasn’t the best policy. Not now, not so soon after meeting her host. ‘Yes...’ she murmured awkwardly, ‘I’m sure it’s going to be...very...nice.’
‘You didn’t want to come.’ Dark eyes met hers over the sun-baked roof of the car. ‘That’s a pity.’
So this man, this friend of Charles, liked to be direct. Lucy swallowed and inhaled before replying. ‘My step-brother can be very persuasive,’ she replied abruptly. ‘I’m sure you’re no happier about this arrangement than I am.’
Broad shoulders were lifted in an easy shrug. The white shirt he wore billowed a little in the warm breeze. It looked good against his bronzed skin, she thought. She felt pasty suddenly, and decidedly unhealthy in comparison with the glowing vitality which exuded from the man opposite.
‘I have a large villa, a pool, a great view. You’re welcome to share it with me for a few days,’ he replied easily. ‘Charles said you needed the break.’
‘What else did he say?’ Lucy’s voice was sharp. She couldn’t help it. Anxiety was always there, lying just beneath the surface, waiting to engulf her.
‘Nothing much.’ His voice was infuriatingly smooth. He looked at her without difficulty or embarrassment. ‘I know that your husband died a couple of months ago and you need a change of scene.’ He glanced around the car park and his mouth twisted into a smile. ‘And here you are.’
Lucy’s eyes rested on the shimmering concrete and the cars and the masses of people surrounding them. ‘Yes,’ she replied flatly. ‘Here I am.’
She saw his look, a slight narrowing of his eyes, but he didn’t say anything, not until they were in their seats and Lucy was fastening her seat belt.
‘I live in the north. In the hills. You won’t find fish and chip bars and high-rise hotels there,’ he told her. ‘It won’t be like this.’
Wide emerald eyes met his gaze. Lucy didn’t bother to hide her disbelief. ‘Won’t it?’
‘No.’ He thrust the car into gear and manoeuvred it out of the space. ‘Be patient. You’ll see.’
They travelled in silence for a long while. After an hour, the scenery changed to lush green trees and dusty tracks, to whitewashed houses nestling in valleys and clinging precariously to hillsides, and her heavy heart began to lift a little.
‘Oh, it’s so...so different!’ she exclaimed, looking about her.
‘There’s still quite a way to go,’ Alex informed her, refraining from the obvious comment of ‘I told you so’. ‘Do you want to stop for a while and stretch your legs? I have some cool drinks in the back.’
Lucy nodded. She had been feeling dreadfully thirsty for the last few miles and her legs felt old and unused. ‘Yes,’ she replied, grateful for the thoughtfulness of her companion. ‘That would be nice.’
He clearly knew the area well. Alex drove the car to a quiet spot shaded from the afternoon sun by the branches of cooling trees. It was a wonderful relief to be able to get out and stretch and walk and just enjoy the fresh, clear air.
He handed her a drink from a cool-box in the boot and Lucy raised the cold bottle of cola to her mouth and drank thirstily.
‘Tastes good?’
She lowered the bottle from her lips. ‘Like nectar,’ she replied shyly.
‘You’ll find that Majorca sharpens all your senses: sight, smell, taste... Take a deep breath,’ he instructed. ‘Wonderful, isn’t it? So clear and fresh; sweet and sharp all at the same time.’
‘And warm.’ Lucy, conscious of Alex Darcy’s gaze, turned to look at the view. The valley stretched endlessly ahead of them, with green terraces that glinted in the sun. In the distance the sea shimmered invitingly.
When Charles had first mentioned that she should go to Majorca to rest and recuperate Lucy had been aghast. He had talked her into it, as he always did, though, and now she could understand why. It was a magnificent part of the world.
Just a shame that this man ... this stranger was part of the package. She would have much preferred to stay here alone. But Charles had been adamant about that...
‘I need to know there’s someone around—someone I can trust to look after you,’ he had insisted firmly. ‘Alex has certain...’ he had hesitated a moment and then said ‘... qualities. Qualities that I feel I can rely on. I know you’re well on the road to recovery, but—’
‘You think it’s fine for me to spend time in a house miles from anywhere, alone with a man I’ve never met before?’ Lucy had asked from her wicker chair in the hospital garden. She’d shaken her head in disbelief. ‘I’m really surprised that you should even make this suggestion!’
‘Look, Alex is a good man. Anyway, he’s a workaholic!’ Charles told her reassuringly. ‘His writing is his life now. Honestly, he’ll be sat in his study for hours on end, so you’ll get all the peace and quiet you want. He’ll be around—that’s the main thing. I don’t want you to feel abandoned. Alex has promised me he’s perfectly happy for you to stay for a few days, just until I get this last-minute hitch sorted out. He’ll understand.’ He paused a moment. ‘He might even be able to help you.’
‘I doubt that!’ Lucy threw the rug from her knees and stood up. ‘And anyway, why should he want to? Not that I need help,’ she amended swiftly. ‘I feel fine. I don’t want to stay with some man I’ve never met before. He could be ... well, you know.’
Charles frowned and looked perplexed. ‘Could be what? What do you mean?’
Lucy exhaled. ‘Oh, Charles, you’re so worldly in some ways and so totally naïve in others! I’ll be alone, out in the middle of nowhere, with a man I’ve never met before—’
‘Good gracious, Lucy! You really are clutching at straws!’ Charles laughed. ‘Is that the best reason you can give for not going?’
I’m nervous, Lucy wanted to say. I’m feeling fragile and I won’t know him.
‘Look, believe me,’ Charles continued, ‘you have nothing to worry about. Alex is a normal, red-blooded male who on occasion enjoys the company of women, but he’s intelligent and humorous and totally absorbed in his work. Anyway,’ he added tactlessly, ‘they’re never your type.’
‘Who aren’t?’ She gazed down at her step-brother, puzzlement clouding her features. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Alex’s women,’ Charles replied. ‘I’m just trying to put your mind at rest; he doesn’t go for your...’ He saw Lucy’s expression and his voice trailed away.
‘And what exactly is my type?’ she enquired, eyebrows raised.
‘Oh, you know...’ Charles waved a negligent hand.
‘No, actually I don’t!’ she replied sharply. ‘I’ve never met the man before, or had you forgotten?’
‘Alex goes for glamour with a capital G. His women are usually six feet tall with hair the colour of corn,’ he added wistfully.
‘And as I’m a short five feet five inches, with a sprinkling of freckles and long, wavy red hair I’m safe—is that what you’re saying?’ Lucy shook her head. ‘You know, for a diplomat you have a pitiful amount of tact!’
Charles looked uncomfortable. ‘Now don’t get worked up about it,’ he added hastily. ‘You’re supposed to be keeping calm.’
‘I am calm, you idiot!’ she replied flatly. The edges of her mouth curved a little. ‘I’m just disappointed that you won’t be around. I see little enough of you as it is.’
Poor Charles, Lucy thought now, and wiped her moist forehead with the back of her hand. She loved him dearly, though. He was the best stepbrother in the world. The only relation close enough to matter. But she did, on occasions, give him a hard time. She heaved a steadying sigh. She wished he were here...
Her head was beginning to hurt. What was the last thing the doctor had said to her on her discharge from the hospital? What had Charles said to her at Gatwick when he had kissed her goodbye? ‘Relax. Take it easy.’
‘Are you feeling OK?’
Lucy looked up to find Alex close beside her. She took a step away, saw him frown and replied hastily, ‘Yes...yes, I’m fine!’
‘You don’t look it.’
‘I’m fine!’ There it was again—that sharp, high-pitched tone that revealed her uncertainties and worries so effectively.
‘You know, Charles really only has your best interests at heart. It will do you good to stay here a while.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Lucy raised her brows enquiringly. ‘And you would know, would you?’ She saw the firming of his mouth, wondered despondently what on earth was making her so disagreeable.
‘I think so, yes.’ His voice was crisp and well defined.
Lucy focused on the view. ‘I didn’t ask to come here. If I had had my way I would have gone straight home from the...the...’
‘Hospital? You can say the word, you know,’ Alex drawled. ‘It won’t bite.’
‘I’d...I’d prefer to put all that behind me,’ she replied stiffly, glancing across at him. ‘If you don’t mind.’
‘Not at all.’ The rich dark eyes held her gaze. ‘You know, Lucy, there’s no need to feel awkward about anything, or uptight. You’re supposed to look upon your stay here as a holiday,’ he continued with infuriating ease, ‘not as some sort of incarceration.’
‘I didn’t want to come!’ she said stonily. She glanced down and saw that her linen trousers looked grubby and crumpled. She smoothed the fabric against her legs with shaking fingers, conscious that the humiliation of tears wasn’t far away.
‘You preferred the idea of returning to your cramped little bedsit in the heart of London?’ Dark brows were raised with an infuriating lack of sympathy. ‘A rather depressing area by all accounts. You know that Charles wishes you’d find somewhere better? He thinks—’
‘I know what he thinks!’ she cut in. ‘He’s told me enough times.’ She turned away angrily and stared out across the lush green valley. She felt hot and irritable and unreasonably defensive. Charles, it seemed, had told Alex more than she had imagined. ‘Anyway, my “cramped little bedsit” suits me fine!’ she added tightly. ‘Besides, it’s all that we could—that I can afford!’ she corrected herself swiftly. ‘I’m not into charity,’ she continued, hardening her voice and her heart, pushing away the dull thud of misery which threatened to take a hold all over again whenever she thought of the mess that had been her marriage. ‘I want to be independent. I was going to be independent, until Charles foisted me off onto you! He’s just salving his conscience! ’ she continued. ‘Charles is too busy to spare me any of his precious time and so he’s come up with this ridiculous idea!’
There was an uneasy silence. Lucy raised a hand to her head and smoothed slender fingers across her aching brow. She knew that she would regret this later, this petulant outburst. What was wrong with her? Why was she acting so dreadfully?
‘Tell me something.’
She glanced across, pushing a heavy strand of bronze-coloured hair out of her eyes, watching the handsome contours of Alex Darcy’s face warily. ‘What?’
‘Are you always this ungrateful?’ His voice was clipped and cool. There was almost a hint of dislike in his tone. Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘Charles is doing the best he can,’ he continued evenly. ‘You know better than I how important his job is. He has commitments that cannot be broken. He’s been working hard on the details of this summit for several months, hasn’t he?’
‘For about a year,’ she replied flatly, knowing deep down that her stepbrother was doing his best, knowing that she was being difficult merely to cover her unease at being in this new situation with a man who was everything she hadn’t expected.
‘Well, then, surely you can understand his predicament?’ Alex continued. ‘He told me you were incredibly proud of his achievements. Not many men or women reach such a position so early in their career. Don’t you think it’s time you considered the difficulties Charles has to deal with, instead of thinking only of yourself?’
It was a shock to be put in her place. So many people had been treating her with kid gloves for so long that she had forgotten what it was like to be on the receiving end of someone’s displeasure... almost.
‘Thinking of myself—?’ Lucy began. She caught sight of the watchful expression and released a weary sigh. ‘OK, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to take any of this out on you.’ It took a huge effort to keep her voice steady and calm. ‘I just feel that Charles has treated me like a child. There was practically no discussion about my coming here,’ she continued. ‘One minute I’m in the hospital; the next I’m being informed that I’m to travel to Majorca to recuperate with an old friend who just happens to be a man, who just happens to be someone I’ve never met before.’ She narrowed her emerald eyes. ‘How would you feel?’
‘A little disorientated, maybe, but essentially glad.’
‘Glad?’ She shook her head in disbelief.
‘You liked hospital?’ Alex enquired bluntly.
She hesitated, disliking the turn that the conversation was taking. ‘No...not really.’
‘You don’t seem too sure.’
Lucy heaved a sigh. Losing Paul had been hell. The agony she had gone through over his death, the guilt... Oh, how it had affected her. A nervous breakdown was not a thing she ever wanted to experience again—ever! But the hospital had been her saviour. For those vital few weeks the anxieties of life had been taken out of her hands. She had been nurtured and cosseted; everyday decisions that had become so hard to deal with had melted away.
For the first time Lucy allowed her gaze to rest calmly on the handsome face. ‘It was...safe,’ she replied simply. ‘There’s a certain comfort in that.’
He looked at her in silence for a moment then took a step towards her, narrowing the space she had put between them. His eyes were dark and magnetic. A hand was raised slowly and for a moment Lucy thought that the strong, tanned fingers were actually going to caress her cheek. Instead they reached forward and gently picked an insect off the sleeve of her blouse.
‘You’ll be safe here,’ Alex promised her softly. ‘I’ll make sure of it.’
His vow was put to the test earlier than either of them had anticipated. They were back on the road and Lucy kept her eyes glued to the scenery—it was easier that way. Besides, she didn’t feel like chatting about inconsequential things. Neither, it seemed, did Alex.
He had just informed her that they were only a couple of miles from his home when a car travelling in the opposite direction took a bend too fast and veered towards them, kicking up dust and grit as its wheels skidded on the sharply curving track.
It all happened so quickly, and yet everything seemed to take place in slow motion too. One minute they were driving along normally, the next Alex was manoeuvring the Jaguar frantically in order to avoid the oncoming vehicle.
Lucy closed her eyes tightly, gripping the edge of her seat as the car screeched to an unexpected halt.
She heard Alex mutter a curse. ‘Are you all right?’
She opened her eyes and nodded. ‘Yes. Just a bit shaken,’ she replied breathlessly. ‘For a moment...’ she gulped a breath ‘...I... I thought we were going to go off the edge.’ She glanced sideways and peered out of the window. Just a few feet from where she was sitting, the track disappeared and a sheer drop of thick trees and shrubs took its place.
‘Don’t look.’ Alex’s smile was deliberately relaxed. ‘It will give you nightmares.’
She glanced behind through the rear window. ‘Whoever it was didn’t stop,’ she murmured. ‘Were they from around here, do you suppose?’
‘No.’ He looked past Lucy towards the valley below. The track was like a winding brown snake. In the distance a trail of dust indicated the car’s continued progress. ‘Definitely not.’ He stared fixedly at the hillside for a moment, intense dark eyes following the vehicle’s journey in the distance.
‘Did you know the driver?’
Lucy’s question seemed to jolt Alex out of his reverie. He looked down at her and frowned. ‘What made you ask that?’
She shrugged, a little confused by the stillness of his frame and the sharpness of his question. ‘I...I don’t know,’ she murmured. ‘It was just your expression...’
He released a breath. ‘There was something,’ he murmured. ‘I didn’t get a chance to see a great deal, but a flash of hair...colours... It reminded me of someone...’ The dark head shook as if he wanted to forget, to shake the image forcibly out of his head. Impatient fingers turned the key in the ignition. ‘Let’s try and put it out of our minds. Another five minutes and we’ll arrive.’
His villa was the sort of home that Lucy dreamed about: comfortable furniture, fine paintings, expensive books, pleasant, interesting objects practically everywhere she looked.
She thought about the cheap bedsitter that she had shared with Paul, with its worn carpet and sad furniture, and had to work hard to repress a shudder.
‘You don’t look too good.’ Dark eyes were surveying her face with a frown.
Lucy inhaled. ‘I’m just a little tired, that’s all,’ she murmured. ‘And the trouble with the car...it shook me.’
‘I’ll show you to your room. You can freshen up and then rest. I have some work I have to do so you’ll be left in peace.’
He led her up a narrow staircase, along a passageway that had colourful rugs pinned to the stone walls, past several closed doors, to a large, airy room which overlooked the valley below.
‘Oh, this is lovely!’ Lucy’s smile was genuine as she glanced around, her green eyes sparkling with pleasure at the white walls, the polished furniture, the books and fresh flowers that filled almost every available surface. ‘It’s just the sort of bedroom I’ve always wanted!’
‘And now you have it—for a short time at least.’ Alex placed the cases on the floor at the foot of the four-poster bed. He looked around, as if seeing the room for the first time. ‘I asked Maria, the woman from the village, to make sure that it was welcoming, and it seems she’s done a good job.’
‘It’s marvellous, thank you.’ Lucy crossed to the window and gazed out across the valley. Her eyes alighted on the aquamarine of the pool shimmering in the afternoon sun. ‘It looks very inviting,’ she murmured. ‘I haven’t been swimming in ages.’
‘You must swim every day whilst you are here.’ He came and stood beside her and once again she felt the sudden, strong, uncompromising presence—an animal magnetism that had unnerved her before whilst travelling with him in the car and was unnerving her again.
‘You have a wonderful home.’ She moved slightly to put more space between them. He noticed but she couldn’t help that. She had never been very relaxed with men—look at how she had been with Paul...
‘Yes. I like it. You’ve had a difficult few months,’ Alex continued smoothly. ‘You really need to make the most of your time here.’
Lucy ventured the question which had been plaguing her since the beginning. ‘You’re allowing me to stay here as a favour to Charles. Why is that?’ she asked.
Dark eyes surveyed her face impassively. ‘Does there have to be a reason?’
‘In my experience, people rarely do something for nothing,’ she murmured.
‘But your experience hasn’t been very good, has it?’ Alex remarked quietly.
She stared hard at the swimming pool. ‘So you do know more than the basic details!’ she accused him. ‘What exactly has Charles been saying?’
‘I told you,’ he replied. ‘I know about your husband’s death. Nothing more. I didn’t ask for details.’
‘But he gave them to you all the same!’ Lucy shook her head angrily. ‘Damn Charles!’ she murmured quietly. ‘He always was a terrible gossip.’
‘He cares about you. Surely you know that?’
‘Yes.’ She pressed her trembling lips together. ‘Yes, I know.’
‘You look exhausted,’ Alex said quietly. ‘You need to rest’
‘Don’t treat me like a child!’ She spun away from the caring voice and concerned eyes and erected a wall of hostility to hide behind. ‘I’ve been married. I’ve been widowed. I’m a grown woman, for heaven’s sake!’
‘At the present moment you barely look fifteen,’ Alex commented, seemingly unaffected by her sharp outburst ‘If I ask exactly how old you are, will I get my head bitten off again?’
‘Most probably!’ Lucy kept her gaze fixed on the valley. ‘I’m surprised Charles hasn’t told you that already. Twenty,’ she added, after a few seconds had passed. She glanced across at the far too attractive face and asked pointedly, ‘How old are you?’
‘A lot older.’
‘And wiser no doubt!’
‘In some fields, yes.’
‘Not all? My, my, you do surprise me! Such modesty.’
She was being a pain again—unnecessarily irritable, just because she was feeling unsure of herself. Just because standing in the same room as this man made her feel weirdly unsettled, excited, confused and totally mixed up.
‘I’ve never been married,’ he replied, with brutal smoothness. ‘You have the lead on me there.’
‘Or widowed?’ Lucy’s expression was hard. She’d show him.
‘No.’
‘I disappointed him,’ she murmured, fixing her gaze on the view from the window.
‘Who? Your husband?’
Lucy’s smile was twisted with irony. She shook her head and worked hard at blotting out Paul’s deceptively mild countenance. ‘No, not my husband. I mean Charles.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘My behaviour over the last few years...it’s not been the best I was a difficult teenager and then, of course...’ there was a telling pause ‘...I got married. That only reinforced his belief that I was incapable of running my own life in a satisfactory manner. Charles had hoped for great things...’
‘And you? Did you hope for great things?’
His question surprised her. She looked across at him and frowned. ‘Maybe, at one time...’ Lucy thought back to her days at drama school. She had been keen and ambitious then. She nodded, almost reluctantly. ‘Yes, I did.’
He looked at her in silence for what seemed like an age, his eyes somehow mesmerising her so that she didn’t have the strength to look away. His expression—cool, impassive, almost distant—gave no clues as to what he was thinking. It was unnerving and Lucy didn’t know how to handle it.
‘You’re young,’ he asserted firmly. ‘You’ve got a future. ’
‘You think so?’ Alex Darcy had a disconcerting way with him, Lucy decided. He wasn’t overly sympathetic, he wasn’t particularly friendly, yet she suddenly had an overwhelming need to unburden herself, to tell him things that she had spoken about with no one else. ‘At times...’ She swallowed, fixing her gaze on the sunlit greenery of the terraces. ‘At times,’ she repeated slowly, ‘I feel ancient inside, like an old, old woman.’
There was a silence. It lengthened to embarrassing proportions. Oh, goodness! Lucy thought wearily. What did I have to tell him that for? If he says something kind now, she told herself, I’ll cry; I know I will.
Maybe he read her mind, for there was no trace of compassion or sympathy in his tone when he next spoke. ‘We all feel old on occasions,’ he replied crisply. ‘Life has a habit of wearing even the most resilient down—weakening the strongest.’
‘Not you.’
‘Why not me?’ Alex shook his head, dark eyes smouldering like hot coals in his face. ‘You’d be surprised.’
‘Would I?’ Lucy frowned. ‘Tell me, then,’ she added firmly. ‘When have you not been able to cope?’
‘Plenty of times.’ His voice was terse, his reply abrupt. It was clear that he wasn’t interested in elaborating. ‘Take a shower,’ he added smoothly. ‘There’s a bathroom through that door there.’ He crossed the room and opened the door, turning to look back at Lucy, who was still standing before the window, wondering about him. ‘Then I think it would be a good idea if you got some sleep. I’ll wake you when it’s time for dinner.’
‘I’m not feeling particularly hungry,’ she murmured.
‘Dinner.’ Alex repeated firmly. ‘See you later.’
Late afternoon had merged with evening. Lucy sat up on the large four-poster bed and hugged the towelling robe that she had slipped on after her shower around her body. Her sleep had been deep and surprisingly refreshing and she felt a whole lot better. Not exactly a new person, but a vastly improved one.
It was so peaceful. She gazed across at the window and took a deep breath. The stillness was quite beautiful after the hustle and bustle of the airport and the warmth of the car journey.
She wondered what the time was. Early or late? She couldn’t judge by the light in these new surroundings—not yet, anyway.
After a few moments of just lounging on the bed enjoying the peace, she swung her legs to the floor and strolled to the open window, breathing in the sweet, warm air which smelt of citrus fruits and roses. To call this place your own must be a wonderful thing, she thought. Absolutely magical.
The bedsit that she had shared with Paul during their short marriage came into her mind. She had done her best, but there was no denying that it had been a dump. Maybe if she had accepted Charles’s offer of the down payment on a flat as a wedding present things would have worked out, but Lucy had refused and they hadn’t. Stubbornness had always been her weak point. Paul had been keen, though—too keen; she should have noticed that. Maybe it would have given her a clue as to what he was really like. Maybe he had always wanted something for nothing...
The silence seemed endless. Too easy to think here, with all this quiet, and thinking was something that she had promised herself she would not do.
Lucy turned away from the window. Where was Alex? Hadn’t he said he’d wake her in time for dinner? She listened. The house was quiet. No movement, no rattle of dishes from the kitchen below. Too quiet, maybe?
She walked to the bedroom door and opened it. The thought struck her that she might be alone, and a sudden, unexplained rush of anxiety flooded through her.
‘Alex!’ Her voice sounded thin and unnatural, echoing against the whitewashed walls. She tried again, her heart sinking when there was no response.
Perhaps something dreadful had happened. Once upon a time she had been like everyone else, imagining that nothing bad would ever touch her. Then she had married Paul and she had seen the stupidity of such naive assumptions.
Lucy heaved a steadying breath. She was being silly and she knew it. Calm down! she told herself. Go and find your reluctant host; he’ll be here somewhere.
She started off at a steady pace, walking briskly but calmly along the passageway, hugging her robe around her as she descended the stairs.
The kitchen was empty. The clock on the wall told her that it was almost nine o’clock, and there was no sign of dinner. No sign of anything or anyone.
‘Alex!’ Her voice was stronger now, but the response was still the same. Silence.
She ran outside. The heat had subsided and it was a beautiful evening. Orange trees glowed in the dusk, laden with ripe, juicy fruit. Lucy brushed by them unseeing, scanning the terraces, hurrying down the steps to the pool, discovering around a corner a walled vegetable garden that was as beautiful and as deserted as the rest of the place.
Stirrings of panic were starting to take a real hold. Desertion, mugging, death—every possibility ran through her mind. Where was Alex Darcy? How could he do this to her?
She ran back towards the house. Her feet were bare and she cried out in pain as she stepped on a sharp stone and fell forward, sprawling on the sitting area close to the house, where bright geraniums grew in terracotta pots and orange trees shaded the terrace.
‘What on earth are you doing?’
She saw his feet first, clad in well-worn loafers; then Alex crouched down and she saw more of him: his legs, tanned and muscular, dusted with a covering of curly black hair; his strong hands resting on his knees; well-worn navy shorts; his broad chest straining against the cotton material of his polo shirt.
‘I...I thought you’d gone,’ Lucy murmured unsteadily, cursing her foolishness. She scrambled to her feet.
‘Gone?’ He helped her up, putting one hand around her waist, the other under her arm for support. ‘Where would I have gone?’
She swallowed, suddenly breathless. She wasn’t sure if it was due to the physical exertions of her search, or relief, or because Alex Darcy was close, holding her with an ease and familiarity that was disturbing and exhilarating all at the same time. She glanced swiftly up into his face, met the stunning eyes and handsome, angular features and looked away again. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘But the house was so quiet, and when I saw the time...’ She shook her head, feeling inadequate under the dark, piercing gaze. ‘I thought you’d be in the kitchen, getting dinner,’ she mumbled. ‘But there was no one there.’
‘Is it that late?’
‘Nine o‘clock.’ Lucy looked briefly across to where the sun, blazing like an orange ball, was slipping steadily below the horizon. ‘I slept for five hours.’
‘Sorry. I tend to forget the time. Whole days slip by without me being aware of it.’ The attractive mouth curled. ‘It’s OK; I’m not a closet alcoholic,’ he added with a smile. ‘I’ve been locked away in my study working. Are you very hungry?’
‘Yes,’ Lucy admitted quietly. He was still holding her. She could feel the strength of his touch through the thick fabric of her robe—demanding, powerful fingers that showed he thought nothing of holding her, nothing of the effect that such a touch could have. ‘But it’s all right; I can get something for myself,’ she added stiltedly. ‘If...if you want to carry on with whatever you were doing. Charles did warn me that you were a workaholic.’
‘Did he indeed?’ Dark eyes slid over her face in amusement, sparkling momentarily. Lucy felt her stomach give a little jolt of excitement. ‘No, don’t worry, I’ve had enough for tonight.’ Casually Alex released his hold. ‘I should stop. Besides, it wouldn’t be very hospitable to ask you to eat alone on your first evening here, would it?’
‘I wouldn’t mind,’ she assured him quickly, anxious to make amends for her juvenile behaviour. ‘Now I know that you’re ... that I’m not alone,’ she amended swiftly.
‘You thought something might have happened to me? Is that why you looked so panic-stricken?’ Alex queried. ‘How...’ he hesitated, searching for the right word ‘...sweet. I glanced out of my study window and saw you running hell for leather across the terrace—I had no idea such frantic activity was on my account.’
‘I called your name and you didn’t answer,’ Lucy retorted sharply, annoyed by his amusement. ‘Anything could have happened.’
‘Anything?’ The firm mouth curved a little more. ‘What had you in mind?’
‘Oh, I don’t know!’ She shook her head, irritated with herself for revealing another of her weaknesses. ‘I suffer from a vivid imagination, that’s all!’
‘Instant pictures, instant panic?’
Lucy nodded reluctantly. ‘Yes, that sort of thing. It can make things difficult at times.’ She swallowed and felt the lump in her throat.
‘It maybe contributed to your... illness?’
She hadn’t expected him to bring that up so openly. Emerald eyes flashed in defensive anger. ‘You mean my breakdown?’ she queried defiantly. ‘You can come right out and say the word, you know,’ she added fiercely. ‘It won’t bite!’
‘Yes.’ She saw a hint of steel in his eyes. ‘Your breakdown.’
‘I...I don’t want to talk about it!’ she flared angrily, aware of the contradiction. ‘I don’t even want to think about it!’
‘I wasn’t aware I had suggested you do either,’ Alex drawled with infuriating smoothness. ‘Although, of course, if you feel you want to talk—’
‘I won’t!’
‘You’re sure about that?’ Stunning eyes disrupted Lucy’s rigid expression. ‘I’m here. I’m willing to listen.’
‘No!’ Fear sharpened her voice. ‘Of course I don’t! You think I would want to dwell on my own failings? To talk about intimate, personal things with you?’
‘It crossed my mind. Unburdening yourself can be a great relief. No one can be strong all the time.’
‘What would you know about it?’ Lucy looked up at him scornfully. She was hiding behind anger again. She hadn’t meant the conversation to take this turn. She hadn’t expected him to be so open, so...forthright.
‘Forget dinner!’ she replied. ‘I’ll get myself a sandwich. You go back to your work.’
Strong, tormenting hands took hold of Lucy’s arm, preventing her from rushing past. ‘Don’t tell me what to do in my own home!’ It was said with absolute calm, but there was an unmistakable inflexion of steel m the deep voice.
Lucy looked up into the ruggedly attractive face and tried to calm the thudding of her pulse.
‘Perhaps now is the time to get one thing straight,’ Alex continued crisply. ‘I expect a degree of courtesy whilst you are a guest here. I realise you have had a rough time, but that doesn’t mean I will tolerate bad manners.’
Lucy’s green eyes widened in shock. She was about to reply, but he continued before she could even open her mouth.
‘You’ve been treated with kid gloves by Charles, by the staff at the hospital. That was understandable in the early days, but you cannot expect that sort of treatment indefinitely—’
‘I don’t!’ It was humiliating being spoken to like this. Lucy wished that the patio would open up and swallow her whole. ‘It’s just—’
‘I don’t want excuses, or even reasons,’ Alex continued with infuriating ease. ‘I’m just stating the way things should be from now on. I want you to have a pleasant stay here. I want our relationship to be civilised—’
‘Civilised!’
A dark brow rose in query. ‘You don’t like my choice of word, Lucy?’
‘I don’t think I like you!’ she snapped. ‘How dare you patronise me like this? Charles would be so angry if he knew you were speaking to me this way!’
‘Charles is not here.’
‘I wish he were! I want to leave!’
The attractive mouth curved, but the smile held little amusement. A slight narrowing of the deep, dark eyes showed disapproval. ‘Because I dare to question your behaviour? ’
‘This isn’t going to work,’ Lucy replied angrily. ‘I can’t stay here with you! It’s a ridiculous idea. I’m going to phone Charles, tell him he has to come and fetch me—’ She twisted sharply and found to her amazement that Alex wasn’t going to let her go.
‘Don’t flounce off like a child!’
She glared up at the handsome face. How could this be happening? A few minutes ago she had actually been concerned for this man’s welfare! ‘I’m not flouncing!’ She gulped a steadying breath. ‘Would you mind letting go of my arm?’ Her voice sounded crisp—so cold that frost was practically dripping off each syllable. Emerald-green eyes clashed with darkest jet, but his hand stayed where it was. ‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’ she asked angrily.
Alex looked at her. ‘I heard.’
She moistened her lips. The tension between them was almost tangible. Alex loomed above her, strong and tanned and full of power. She held herself rigid, waiting for the moment to subside. It didn’t. The tension became more powerful, subtly changing—an electrical tension that didn’t have its roots in anything so straightforward as dislike or hostility.
The strange, almost dangerous silence lengthened. Alex looked down at her. ‘You really are a mixed-up young woman, aren’t you?’ he murmured quietly.
‘Quite different from the usual females you encounter?’
Lucy put unmistakable emphasis on the last word. She had no idea why she said it—no idea at all. Liar! she told herself. Why can’t you admit that what Charles said about Alex Darcy has been on your mind from the first moment you laid eyes on him?
‘For “encounter” I should presumably read “meet in bed”,’ he replied smoothly. There was another tense silence. ‘Has Charles been talking?’ Alex drawled dangerously. ‘Maybe you’re right; maybe he is a terrible old gossip after all. I shall have to have a word with him about it.’
‘He was only trying to reassure me!’ Lucy answered swiftly, suddenly concerned for her stepbrother’s welfare; Alex was big and powerful, whereas Charles was a definite weed. ‘He wasn’t gossiping at all.’
Alex Darcy looked puzzled—as well he might, she thought miserably; she was getting everything into a terrible tangle.
‘Reassure you? What would he need to reassure you about?’
‘Oh...you know!’
‘Actually I don’t; that’s why I’m asking,’ Alex replied with deceptive mildness ‘Care to explain?’
‘Six-foot blondes, with hair the colour of corn!’ Lucy muttered.
‘What?’ He wasn’t angry; in fact he looked vaguely amused.
She tilted her chin and looked up at him. ‘Your regular type of encounter—your women.’
Dark eyes narrowed dangerously. Now he was angry. She had gone too far. Lucy felt a charge of panic.
‘Are you deliberately trying to provoke me?’
‘N-no.’
‘Charles has given you the impression I’m womanmad—’ Alex frowned in noticeable irritation ‘—is that it?’
‘No!’ Lucy put a hand to her head. ‘I don’t know!’ she added almost wildly. ‘I don’t care if you have hundreds of women. It’s none of my business, is it?’
‘No! Damned right, it’s not!’
‘Will you let go of my arm now?’ she asked shakily. ‘I’d...I’d like to go inside.’
‘To do what? Pack?’
‘To phone Charles, to ask him if he’ll come out and fetch me.’
‘You know he’s busy in Geneva. Besides, if you want to leave that badly you can always book a flight out of here yourself. You’re not a prisoner.’
‘I haven’t got enough money!’ Lucy murmured, conscious of the strong fingers still gripping the sleeve of her robe. ‘I’m sure Charles has told you that Paul squandered every penny I had earned and saved before he died!’
The coal-black eyes narrowed perceptively. ‘No, he didn’t.’
‘Oh...’ Lucy bent her head and looked at the ground. ‘Well...he did, and I refused the money Charles offered to tide me over until I can get a job.’
‘Why did you do that?’
‘Because I don’t like charity, that’s why!’ Lucy flashed. ‘Now if you don’t mind—’
‘What did you do?’
The change of tack disconcerted her for a moment. ‘You mean work?’ she quened. ‘Oh, nothing much. You wouldn’t be interested.’
‘How do you know? Try me.’
She stared down at the ground self-consciously. ‘I...I went to drama school for a while. Then I got work in an office. Nothing very spectacular. I’m not good at anything in particular.’
‘Don’t undersell yourself!’ It was another of what Lucy suspected would turn out to be a long line of rebukes.
She pursed her lips and took a deep breath, staring up into Alex Darcy’s face. ‘I’m not underselling myself,’ she replied frostily. ‘Just stating the obvious. Now would you mind letting go of my arm, please? I’d like to go inside to phone Charles.’
‘You are a stubborn young woman; you know that, I presume?’
There was a hint of exasperation in his tone. Lucy looked up into the angular face. ‘It’s been my downfall,’ she asserted quietly. ‘I realise that now.’
‘Well, if you can see that,’ Alex replied, without any signs of sympathy, ‘surely you’ll understand that flouncing out of here after only a few hours is not the most sensible thing to do?’
‘You don’t want me here,’ Lucy murmured. ‘That’s as plain as day. I don’t want to spend time where I’m not wanted.’
‘Now you’re feeling sorry for yourself!’ Alex replied crisply. ‘Always a big mistake.’
‘Like my stay here!’
The long, lean fingers shook Lucy’s arm a little; a mixture of impatience and irritation crossed the handsome face. ‘I can’t deny Charles’s request for help did come out of the blue,’ Alex responded sharply, ‘but I agreed to have you here and I stand by that arrangement.’
Her green eyes narrowed provokingly. ‘You’re regretting it, though, aren’t you?’
His sensuous lips compressed into a firm line and his fingers pulled her closer towards the large, broad frame. ‘Will you stop forcing the point, Lucy? You’re being totally impossible.’ He surveyed her with an irritated gaze. ‘I live a solitary life—always have, always will. I can’t deny that your presence here will take a bit of getting used to, but I’m perfectly capable of being sociable if you’ll act in an appropriate manner.’
She frowned up at him. ‘And what do you mean by that?’
‘If you’ll stop acting like a petulant child!’
‘Maybe I want to act like a petulant child; maybe I always have!’ She didn’t care what he thought of her. She didn’t! For the past few weeks she hadn’t cared about anything much at all. Lucy tried to shake his hand free, but his grip was firm and uncompromising, matching his expression. ‘Will you let go of me?’ she gritted.
‘No.’
She had an overwhelming desire to stamp her bare feet on the dusty ground, to pull and tug herself free and run off sobbing. ‘I want you to!’ she told him wildly.
‘No, you don’t.’ His voice was calm and controlled. ‘Tell me something.’
‘What?’ Lucy tilted her chin and eyed Alex warily. He looked so handsome, so completely male—cool and totally in command.
‘When was the last time you here held?’
Her heart skipped a beat. ‘I...I don’t know.’ She shook her head, hardly daring to meet his gaze, repeating the word as if she hardly knew its meaning. ‘Held?’
‘Yesterday?’ Alex persisted. ‘A week ago, a month?’
Lucy stared up at the smouldering eyes and felt every nerve-end tingling as a new, quite daunting prospect loomed into view. ‘I...I can’t remember,’ she murmured evasively.
‘I shouldn’t imagine Charles is particularly good at hugging, is he?’ Alex continued smoothly. ‘And there’s no one else now, is there?’ He released a breath and the firm line of his mouth softened a little as he looked at Lucy. ‘You lose someone—someone close—and everyone backs off. They don’t mean to, but grief is difficult to deal with. Even the simplest phrases of condolence sound clichéd or banal, don’t they?’
‘Yes.’ She contemplated the strong, rugged planes of his face and nodded slowly, remembering, marvelling at the fact that he actually understood how it had been. ‘Yes, they do.’
‘Your friends probably did their best, but it’s not always good enough, is it?’
Lucy released a tense breath. She was inches away from him, and the proximity of such blatant animal magnetism coupled with this sudden unexpected sensitivity was not helping her to stay aloof and unmoved.
‘I...I haven’t many friends. Not any more. Paul...’ She faltered, gulping a swift breath. ‘He...he didn’t get on with them,’ she finished reluctantly.
‘He could be a difficult man?’
Strain clenched her features; her throat ached with unshed tears. Never speak ill of the dead. It wasn’t right to criticise Paul now, especially not with a stranger. ‘He was my husband,’ she murmured unsteadily.
‘And you loved him.’ It was said as if that fact were a forgone conclusion.
Lucy didn’t bother to contradict him. It was what everyone thought, she knew that. After all, they had only been married a couple of months and she had gneved so after his death. Grieved for all the wrong reasons ... but grieved nonetheless.
‘I’m sorry if I was harsh earlier,’ Alex murmured. ‘I apologise.’
‘I deserved it,’ Lucy muttered awkwardly. ‘But apology accepted anyway.’ She gulped a breath, conscious of the tears that were threatening to overwhelm her. When people were kind, she cried—it was an equation that she didn’t know how to overcome.
‘It’s OK,’ Alex murmured gently, brushing a finger across her damp cheek. ‘Tears don’t frighten me. You don’t have to feel embarrassed.’
‘I don’t want to cry!’ She hung her head as she fought to prevent her tears. ‘I’m sick of feeling miserable, of being an object of pity.’
‘Self-pity?’
Lucy looked up. He could be remarkably brutal when it suited him. ‘Maybe,’ she whispered.
‘Honesty.’ A half-smile twisted the corners of his mouth. ‘I approve. Don’t be too hard on yourself,’ he added firmly. ‘No one’s perfect.’
‘Not even you?’ Her attempt at lightness almost killed her, but she felt proud that she had managed it when she saw his smile.
‘Not even me.’
She couldn’t reply. Another light-hearted retort would have been the best, the safest approach then—something flippant to defuse the tension in the far too personal nature of their conversation. But she knew it would be impossible. She recognised brooding compassion in Alex’s expression and swallowed back the lump in her throat. ‘Don’t!’ she croaked, shaking her head. ‘Please—!’
He took no notice. Deep down, Lucy knew, she hadn’t wanted him to.
Alex pulled her towards his solid frame, and the tears that she had held back for so long streamed like a torrent down her pale cheeks.
CHAPTER TWO
LUCY had expected a quick hug, had counted on being released after a few short seconds. But the holding just went on and on.
She wanted it to; that was the shocking thing. The fact that she craved the feeling of the firm, male body pressed so effectively against her own stunned her absolutely. Never before had she experienced such an overwhelming need to be held, to keep on being held—never with her husband, that much was certain.
The grieving widow. It indicated so much and yet revealed so little. Lucy closed her eyes and gripped Alex’s shirt tightly.
‘Are you OK?’
His voice was deep and husky and that made it worse—more difficult to disentangle herself. She felt weak with confusion. How could she feel this much physical awareness of a man she didn’t know and certainly didn’t much like?
‘Lucy?’ Insistent hands slackened her hold. Alex leaned back and tried to look into her face. ‘Will you look at me?’
‘No!’ She didn’t want to see that gaze. Too dark and attractive, too perceptive, he would recognise and understand the sexual attraction which had sprung out of nowhere and had to be repressed at all costs.
Lucy had felt guilty enough before; for weeks before Paul’s death she had been wishing that her marriage would end, that he would exit her life and leave her in peace, but now she felt even worse.
A widow of less than two months and already wanting another man.
Any man? she wondered miserably. Or just this one?
‘Don’t touch me!’ Lucy found the strength she needed from somewhere and tugged fiercely. Immediately she found herself released. ‘What do you think you’re trying to do?’ she cried. ‘Make me go mad?’ She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand and then, half stumbling away from him, ran into the house.
Let him think her crazed and deranged, she thought. What did she care? She knew better than anyone what a mixed-up young woman she was. She just couldn’t cope with Alex Darcy mixing her up any more.
He followed her, and she knew instinctively that that spelt trouble. Confrontations clearly didn’t frighten the life out of him the way they did her. She turned and faced him in the hallway of the house, conscious of herself, of him, of the cool interior and the deathly silence that enveloped them both as they looked at one another.
‘Just leave me alone!’ Lucy muttered unsteadily. ‘Stop pestering me!’
‘Pester—?’ Incredulous exasperation crossed Alex’s face. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘Harassing me, then!’ Lucy amended hurriedly, conscious that she was only making things worse as he drew in a dangerous breath and took a step towards her. ‘Oh, I don’t know!’ she added almost wildly. ‘But, whatever it is, stop doing it!’
‘I held you because you needed comfort,’ Alex replied crisply. ‘You seemed glad of it at the time.’
‘You seem to imagine too much!’ Lucy flashed. ‘I was confused, that’s all. I wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe I do need someone to hold me, but not you! Never someone like you!’
‘Someone like me?’ She saw the line of his jaw harden, the dark eyes narrow as he repeated her words. ‘What are you talking about?’ He walked towards her. No menace in his steps, just an irrepressible intent. ‘Lucy, calm down! Working yourself up like this is not the right thing to do, believe me.’
‘I...I’m not worked up,’ Lucy asserted weakly, conscious as she took a faltering step backwards of the roughness of the stone wall behind her. ‘You can’t do this to me!’
Dark brows were raised quizzically. ‘Do what?’ he enquired, frowning. ‘What is it I can’t do?’
‘You know,’ Lucy whispered, watching as jet-black eyes lingered on her face. ‘You know very well.’
‘No, Lucy, I don’t.’ He shook his head slowly, looking at her with eyes that held humiliating puzzlement. Then his expression cleared and he added softly, ‘It was just a platonic hug. Nothing to worry about.’
‘I know, I know!’ Lucy’s denial was a fraction too swift, a fraction too unsteady.
‘But you wanted it to be something more? Is that what’s worrying you? Look, it’s nothing to be ashamed about,’ Alex insisted smoothly, watching Lucy’s rigid face. ‘We all have different needs, different ways of coping. You shouldn’t feel guilty about the way your body reacts. Is that why you pulled away and fled like a scared rabbit?’ He reached out and touched her cheek with the palm of his hand. ‘Is it?’
‘You are so arrogant!’ Lucy snapped, jerking away from his touch. ‘What makes you think I would ever want to—?’
‘I was talking hypothetically,’ Alex cut in sharply. ‘Sexual needs don’t always vanish into thin air because a partner dies. You still want your husband, you miss the physical side of your relationship; it happens.’
Lucy muttered an incoherent curse beneath her breath. He didn’t understand. He thought like all the rest—that she still yearned for Paul, still wanted him here beside her. The truth was that Paul had been the furthest thing from her mind when Alex had held her. ‘You sound like a psychiatrist! ’ Lucy murmured unsteadily. ‘Thank you, but I had more than enough analysis at the hospital!’
‘Lucy!’ Something in his tone made her take notice.
She glanced across and frowned. ‘What?’
Alex didn’t speak immediately. Lucy saw a flicker of indecision cross the angular features and wondered whether he was about to tell her that maybe she should leave, that it probably was for the best that they called a halt to the arrangement here and now. ‘I’m not the sort of man who plays games; you need have no fear of that.’
Lucy kept her gaze as steady as she could. ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’
More hesitation. More intrigue. There was something he seemed to want to say—something difficult maybe... ‘I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.’ Dark eyes held hers with magnetic force and Lucy knew that she couldn’t look away even if she wanted to. ‘Charles sent you here because he trusts me,’ Alex continued, in deep, vibrant tones. ‘I want you to trust me, too.’
‘I’m not very good at trusting people,’ Lucy replied stiffly. ‘I trusted Paul and—’ She halted abruptly, conscious that she had a need to confide again.
‘And what?’
‘Please!’ She shook her head and stared up at Alex imploringly. ‘I really don’t want to talk about it.’
‘I’m pushing too hard.’ He smiled—a warm, relaxed curve of his mouth that sent Lucy’s pulse racing all over again. ‘Sorry.’
She had a choice: keep it polite and cool, so that Alex was left in no doubt about how she wanted things to proceed, or try and make an effort, show him that underneath the panic she could respond like a perfectly sane and happy human being.
‘Again?’ she murmured. There was a hint of a smile, a slight lifting of an eyebrow. It had been the right choice; somehow the tension melted away.
“Fraid so.’ Dark eyes sparkled magnetically, and Lucy found her smile widening, despite everything that had gone before. ‘That’s better. You know...that smile...’ Alex raised a hand, as if to touch the very thing which he was talking about, and Lucy held her breath, watching his compelling face in fascination, her emerald eyes glued to the taut, dynamic features.
The tension was back, or had it never gone away? Would he touch her mouth? Would he?
It seemed not. A firm line replaced the smile; the stunning eyes grew dark and daunting. Alex lowered his hand suddenly and turned away. ‘I’ll make a start on dinner!’ he informed her with crisp precision. He walked away towards the kitchen. ‘Why don’t you go upstairs and get changed?’
‘I could help.’ Lucy followed him through the stone archway and down the steps, watching as he opened cupboards and drawers with angry, jerky movements.
‘It’s OK.’
‘But I don’t mind, honestly! It will be nice for me to do something constructive for a change—’
‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’ Alex turned and faced Lucy and there was brutal impatience in his expression. ‘I don’t need your help.’ He breathed in and Lucy saw the effort he needed to school his features into milder lines. ‘Honestly. This is your first night here, so I’ll do the work. Maybe tomorrow. How about that?’
‘There’s no need to speak to me as if I’m a child.’ Lucy’s voice was quiet but full of intensity. ‘I’ll go upstairs,’ she added swiftly, forestalling any reply. ‘As you ordered.’
The loggia—a wonderful open-sided balcony that in daytime afforded breathtaking views of the lush green hills and the distant, sparkling blue sea beyond—was the sort of place you saw in glossy magazines.
It was still very warm, despite the lateness of the hour. Lucy took some salad from the bowl that Alex was holding out to her and busied herself with arranging the crisp green leaves on her plate.
He looked even more sensational than before. He had showered and changed since preparing dinner and now he was wearing a pristine white shirt and cream trousers which emphasised the deepness of his tan and the glossy darkness of his hair.
‘So, how do you plan to spend tomorrow?’ he asked.
Lucy tried to keep her voice suitably neutral. ‘Oh, just lazing around, I suppose.’ She deliberately avoided eye contact, concentrating instead on buttering a crusty roll. ‘A walk, perhaps; a dip in the pool—if it’s all right with you, of course,’ she added hurriedly.
‘Fine. Do whatever you wish,’ Alex replied evenly. ‘You have the run of the place whilst you’re here, so you may as well make the most of it.’
‘Thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’
Lucy got the impression that he was laughing at her, although when she risked a glance his gaze was perfectly impassive. Their eyes met and Lucy looked down hurriedly. She felt dreadfully self-conscious under Alex Darcy’s vibrant eyes—uncertain, unsure of herself in relation to him.
After months of not caring how she looked, she had this evening found the inclination to arrange her long auburn tresses into a more sophisticated style, tying her long, fiery hair with a bright yellow silk scarf so that it fell in thick waves over one shoulder. Lucy adjusted the strap of her sundress self-consciously. It was a plain garment, but the simple lines suited her slender figure, and the pale lemon of the fabric contrasted well with the richness of her hair and the sudden glow that was rising up from her throat to cover her face.
Had Alex noticed that she had made an effort with her appearance? Did he like what he saw? She watched as his gaze briefly scanned her body, but he didn’t say anything, so she supposed not.
Lucy gave an inward sigh. She felt disappointed, and that was ridiculous. Common sense told her that Alex Darcy was used to far more stunning sights than she. Just because she had spent over an hour getting ready...
‘You can look upon tomorrow as a fresh start,’ Alex declared. ‘Believe me, this place has incredible healing powers. You’ll wake up tomorrow morning with the warmth of the sun on your face, wander outside onto the terrace, pick fresh oranges for your breakfast... I guarantee you’ll feel like a new woman in no time.’
‘I hope so.’ Lucy took a sip of chilled mineral water and concentrated purposefully on the darkened view. ‘I’m not particularly keen on holding onto the old one.’ There was an awkward pause. ‘Warm sun will be a real change,’ she added, frantically trying to keep the conversation upbeat, ‘after the weather we’ve been having in England—it’s been one of the coldest springs on record.’
Dark brows were raised sardonically. ‘Again?’
‘Did you leave England to escape the weather?’ Lucy ventured, unable to deny her sudden interest in the man opposite her.
The tone of his voice changed; it became wooden, slightly edgy. He picked up a fork and speared some food. ‘It was one of the reasons.’
There were others, clearly. Lucy wondered what they were, but something about Alex’s demeanour told her that further enquiry would not be particularly welcome, and she wasn’t sure that she had the nerve to pursue it. ‘Charles mentioned you haven’t returned in a long while. Don’t you miss the old country?’ she enquired lightly.
‘No.’ Alex held Lucy’s gaze without flinching. ‘Why? Should I?’
His expression was suddenly harder, almost cold. ‘No...no, of course not.’ There was to be no discussion at all about England; that much was clear. Lucy glanced down at her plate to avoid the formidable chill that had appeared in Alex’s eyes. ‘I just thought that—’
‘I have no reason to return, no ties that bind me.’ Alex glanced around the loggia, then turned in his chair to look at the view behind. ‘This is my home now.’
‘You have no family?’ Lucy queried hesitantly.
‘No. My parents died a few years ago.’ There was a significant pause. ‘I will be working all day tomorrow,’ he continued, handing a bowl of succulent-looking pasta to Lucy, precluding, with the sudden change of subject, any more obviously unacceptable enquiries of a personal nature. ‘In my study. That is the only place I would prefer you not to enter whilst you are a guest here. I have a deadline I must meet, so if I don’t emerge until dusk, or even beyond, don’t worry.’ His mouth twisted in sudden amusement. ‘I’ll still be alive.’
So, he doesn’t like personal talk, Lucy mused. She wondered why not. Did Alex Darcy have parts of his life that he preferred not to talk or even think about? Was there pain in his past too? It was an intriguing thought.
‘Charles mentioned that you are a writer,’ Lucy murmured, after several seconds had passed. She forked the moist tagliatelle into her mouth and found that for the first time in weeks she actually wanted to go on eating. ‘It sounds exciting.’
Safer ground now. Lucy looked across into the handsome face and saw that the smouldering tension had eased a little. ‘Hardly that,’ Alex replied drily. ‘Satisfying, though, when things go well.’
‘But you’re successful, aren’t you?’ Lucy insisted. ‘Some of your books have been turned into films. I’m not a great reader, but I can remember Charles getting all excited a couple of years ago because a friend of his was short-listed for the Booker Prize—that was you, wasn’t it?’
‘You astonish me.’ Alex looked at Lucy with mild surprise. ‘I didn’t think Charles held my writing career in particularly high regard.’
‘Oh, he does!’ Lucy replied. ‘He’s not the dry old stick that everyone assumes he is! Do you hope to repeat your success?’
Alex lifted his shoulders in a shrug and proceeded to tuck into his plateful of food with healthy enthusiasm. ‘Always hoping. But who can tell? I’m working on it.’
Lucy glanced across with interest. She hadn’t had a conversation that didn’t seem to link up with her own predicament in a long while and it felt wonderfully refreshing to take an interest in somebody else’s affairs for a change. ‘Where do you get your ideas from?’
Alex waved a negligent hand. Lucy sensed that he wasn’t particularly interested in the subject, or maybe his lack of enthusiasm came about because it was a subject that he had discussed so many times with so many people. His friends. Who were they? What were they like? Suddenly Lucy found herself wanting to know.
‘Oh, in the shower, when I’m out walking, watching a sunset...eating a meal...’ He flashed a smile and even white teeth gleamed in contrast against the deeply bronzed face. Lucy felt warm, as if the sun had deigned to shine upon her. ‘The oddest moments.’
‘But you like what you do?’ she persisted.
‘Yes,’ Alex admitted. ‘It’s a creative challenge if nothing else.’ There was a slight pause as he contemplated Lucy’s interested face, then he added, ‘Who am I trying to kid? I love it. I wouldn’t want to do anything else. When a story works well, when the book has been published and is selling like hot cakes ... well, then it’s absolutely exhilarating.’
Lucy stared out towards the hills. ‘That’s what I need,’ she murmured. ‘A new venture. Something good and solid that I can work at. To be a success. If there’s one thing Charles likes it’s success. That’s why I’m such a disappointment to him. He would have loved it if I had entered one of the traditional professions—lawyer, doctor, any of those.’ Lucy raised another forkful of food to her lips. ‘Incidentally, how did you and Charles meet?’ she added. ‘He usually spends all his time with men in dark grey suits.’
‘And you can’t see me in one of those?’ Ebony eyes glimmered in sudden amusement.
She found her gaze lingering on the firm, muscled chest, the tanned forearms, the strength of neck and shoulders. ‘Not at the moment, no.’ Lucy returned Alex’s smile and found to her amazement that she was beginning to relax. ‘Was it through work? It must have been—Charles doesn’t believe in play; he says he thrives on being dull and boring.’
‘I was on a committee he was chairing,’ Alex replied briefly. ‘We went for a drink after a particularly gruelling session and found we hit it off. You know, underneath that rigid exterior you have a stepbrother who happens to possess quite a dry sense of humour!’
‘Oh, I know! He isn’t quite as staid as he looks! I just wish he would let himself go a little more.’ Lucy picked up her glass again. ‘So Charles was chairman, was he?’ she added. ‘He revels in all that power; that’s why he’s a politician, I suppose. Was it to do with the arts?’ Lucy thought about it and frowned. ‘I don’t recall Charles having anything to do with that sort of thing. He’s usually involved with far more boring subjects, like finance.’
‘It was a long time ago,’ Alex replied shortly. ‘A part of my life that simply doesn’t exist any more. Before my writing career took off,’ he added, as if that were sufficient explanation.
‘Oh, so you haven’t always been a writer, then? I assumed—’
‘Dangerous to assume!’ Alex cut in swiftly. He flashed her a sensational smile and expertly diverted the conversation. ‘Drama school. What was that like? Did you ever get any acting work?’
‘A couple of small parts in children’s series. Two or three advertisements for television. I got my Equity card, which is something, I suppose.’
‘You didn’t stick with it?’
‘I don’t think I had any real talent. My tutors were quite encouraging, but...’ Lucy hesitated. ‘I had met Paul by that time, anyway,’ she added briskly.
‘So?’ Dark brows were raised in query. ‘Why should that stop you? You did want to be an actress, I presume?’
‘It didn’t stop me.’ She realised that her voice had come out sounding rather strident She modified her tone and added, ‘Somehow everything seemed to get sidetracked, that’s all. Paul thought I’d be better off going out and getting a proper job.’
She could feel Alex’s eyes upon her, assessing what she had just said, but she didn’t return his gaze. She’d done it again: revealed herself to him, given him food for thought—told him more than she’d ever told anyone. ‘We wanted to set up home and there were things we had to buy,’ Lucy added hurriedly. ‘We needed the money.’
‘Your husband—’
‘I don’t want to talk about him!’
‘I was just going to ask if he had a career,’ Alex murmured. ‘Don’t worry; nothing too personal. I got my head bitten off once before, remember? I’m not quite ready to have it bitten off again.’
‘I’ve been a bit of a pain, haven’t I?’ Lucy murmured. ‘Sorry.’
‘You’ve had a hard time.’ Alex’s tone was crisp and matter-of-fact. ‘It’s understandable.’
‘Paul didn’t like to be tied down to regular work. He did have a job when I met him,’ she added quickly, wondering why she was bothering to say any of this, ‘but after a couple of months he got laid off.’
Lucy risked a glance across the table and saw that Alex appeared less than interested. Why don’t you just come right out and say he was sacked? she asked herself. Be honest about it. Paul’s dead. You don’t have to cover up for him any more!
‘He had more of a hippy attitude, really,’ she continued. ‘He sort of drifted.’ Lucy looked at Alex and managed at least a modicum of honesty. ‘For a while I found myself drifting too.’
She looked at him then, saw the frown, the vague disapproval in his expression. Clearly he didn’t like slackers. ‘I got a position in an office, but I ... I didn’t feel too well for a while, and I decided to give it up.’
‘Nothing serious, I hope?’
Serious? Lucy lowered her head to her plate and remembered how easy it was to lose her appetite. Was having a baby serious? It was important, she knew that much. Devastating when you lost it, or were made to lose it...
‘I hated office work anyway,’ she continued hurriedly. ‘It was a relief to leave.’
‘So, you’ll be trying something new? Maybe you’ll pick up the pieces of your acting career?’
‘I doubt it,’ she murmured. ‘All that feels as if it happened centuries ago. I’ll probably end up in an office again.’
‘Are you always so defeatist?’
Lucy looked across, surprised by the sudden vehemence in Alex’s voice. ‘I’m just being...realistic,’ she replied haltingly.
‘No, you’re not!’ He shook his head and threw her a disparaging look. ‘You’re just taking the easy option. How it annoys me when people settle for second best.’ Dark eyes flashed across the table at her. ‘Why don’t you fight for what you want?’ he demanded. ‘If you hate the way your life is going, then do something about it!’
‘Easy for you to say,’ she returned quickly, ‘sitting there with a successful career and your independence!’
‘They weren’t handed to me on a plate,’ Alex delivered with cool precision. ‘I had to work hard to get where I am. Years of slog in a profession that I ended up hating. Years of rejection slips one after another, with no one believing in me except myself.’
‘But you’ve got talent; you can do something—!’
‘And you can’t?’ Smouldering dark eyes bit into her. ‘You’re saying you’re useless?’
‘No! Yes!’ She shook her head and felt a wash of desolation sweep over her. ‘Oh, I don’t know!’
‘Well, I suggest you find out!’ Alex replied crisply. ‘You need to start looking at your life, at what you want to achieve. You can’t drift for ever, Lucy. The future has to be faced.’
‘I know that! I don’t need you to tell me!’ she retorted angrily. What on earth had made her think that this man possessed any sort of compassion? She stood up, scraping her chair back from the table, listening to the sound of her cutlery as it fell from her plate to the floor. ‘You’re so damned sure of yourself!’ she exclaimed. ‘It makes me sick! I didn’t come here to be lectured to; I came here to recuperate!’
‘Thinking seriously about your future is part of recuperation,’ he replied instantly.
She couldn’t stand any more. Strain clenched Lucy’s delicate features. She glared at Alex Darcy. That man! So damned sure of himself! What did he know? How could he sit there and make such cool statements about her life, about the way she should think? It wasn’t fair that he should judge her without knowing the facts.
She met the hard, critical look in his eyes and almost wished for a moment that he did know every detail. But that thought didn’t last more than a few seconds. Imagine how much worse his judgement would be, she told herself, if he knew how easily it had been for Paul to manipulate her, how weak she had been with him. Alex Darcy would undoubtedly take the tough line: women who allowed their husbands to treat them like slaves had only themselves to blame, and if it meant losing a baby in the process...a baby that no one outside the marriage knew existed...
Lucy closed her eyes. She couldn’t think about all that again. Goodness knew she had spent enough time torturing herself already.
At the door to the loggia she turned back briefly to find Alex surveying her with an expression that was difficult to decipher. His observation was disconcerting—so intense suddenly, as if he wanted to look into her very soul.
‘If I had known what a self-righteous swine you were,’ Lucy declared heatedly, ‘I would never have agreed to come!’
‘And if I had known about your defeatist attitude and your stubborn streak,’ Alex replied in clipped tones, ‘then I would have stood my ground and not allowed Charles to persuade me to have you here against my better judgement.’
It had been meant to hurt and it did. Although why so much, Lucy didn’t know—after all, she had guessed in that first moment of seeing Alex that he was allowing her to stay at his home on sufferance. Hearing the truth now shouldn’t have made that much difference.
‘I’ll go if that’s what you want!’ She stared at him bleakly. The evening had been going so well until now. All of a sudden Lucy felt tired again, and worn out, and very, very unhappy.
She heard a muttered curse, looked up with misted eyes and saw that Alex was getting to his feet. ‘Of course, it’s not!’ He threw down his napkin impatiently and strode towards her.
He came near and her mouth quivered tremulously. ‘But you said—’
‘I know what I said!’ His voice was harsh. ‘I know what I said,’ he repeated more softly. ‘Lucy, I—’ He dragged strong fingers through his dark hair and shook his head, cursing again, only more softly this time, beneath his breath. ‘This is...going to be difficult. I had no idea.’
‘What?’ She looked up, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, and frowned. Alex, she thought, looked almost tortured, as if he badly regretted being horrible to her. ‘Me? You mean I’m difficult?’
‘Charles certainly doesn’t have a clue about you, does he?’ Alex released a deep breath, noticed the puzzlement clouding her features and shook his head again. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m just thinking out loud. Your devoted stepbrother just didn’t prepare me very well, that’s all. Maybe you should go to bed.’ Alex’s voice was rough again. ‘You did say you were tired.’
He didn’t want her around. She bored him. All her gushing about his work, and her probing into his life, and then her petulant anger. No wonder he could hardly stand the sight of her.
‘Charles has put you in a very awkward position, hasn’t he?’ Lucy murmured. ‘I really irritate you beyond belief!’
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