A ruling passion : a novel (15 page)

Valerie. Valerie on camera, relaxed, smiling, stunning, as Sybille never would be. Valerie walking across the campus as if she owned it. Valerie with her hand in Nick's. Valerie in Nick's bed.

But not anymore.

From now on he'll be in my bed. I'll make him forget her; I'll make him forget everyone but me. Maybe she did drop him, but it doesn't matter because she'll want him back one of these days, but she won't have a hope in hell, because he won't want her. Ever again.

But that wasn't all. She was going to make that bitch pay for what she'd done. Once she'd admired her, envied her and wanted to be like her, and for awhile she'd been so happy because they were equals: students on the same campus. But that was over. She didn't admire Valerie Ashbrook or want to be like her. There's nothing to admire, nothing, nothing, she raged silendy. She's stupid and thoughdess. She never thinks of anyone but herself and her own pleasure. Dinner parties, gossip, chattering away, passing on stories people tell her in confidence, and if somebody gets hurt by it, what does Valerie care? She acts like there are hordes of servants following behind her, ready to clean up any mess she makes.

"Not this one, damn it," Sybille muttered, forgetting Lenore. She raised her hand, still clenched around the rock, and, with a snap of her wrist, flung the rock away. She won't be able to clean up this mess, because I'll never forget it. And I'm going to destroy her.

rilfind a way to make her lose everything she has; make her know what ifs like to be poor and on the outside. I don't care how long it takes, Fllfind a way to do it.

She sprang up. "I have to go. Thanks for telling me everything

I'm late; I have so much to do, I'll see you around..."

She strode away, almost running. So much to do. Find another job. Find people who can help. Read and study; watch other people and find their weak points. Learn and learn and learn to find the fastest way to the top.

Figure out how to pay back Valerie.

CaU Nick.

"I hoped you'd hang around after you got your Ph.D.," said Lyle Wilson. He put his hand on Nick's shoulder. "With your ambition, in a few years you'd be ready to take over the place. Then I'd retire and play the gentieman."

Nick laughed. "Not for a long time. Anyway, you know what I want, Lyle, and I can't do it if I'm working in a university."

Lyle sighed. "All that energy. What about security.'' Don't tell me there's no pretty girl wanting to get married and settie down. I tell you, she'd like it if you stayed put. How many fellas graduate and they

already have a great job and their future taken care ofl""

Nick smiled. "Nobody wants to get married, and right now a litde mystery in my future sounds just fine." He picked up a box filled with the possessions that had filled his desk for the past three years. "I've enjoyed it here," he said simply, taking a last look around. He was surprised by a brief flash of panic. He was leaving everything that was familiar, a place where he was known and respected, where he knew the rules and had gained a measure of authority, and he was going into a world of unknowns where he had no authority, no assurances, and no money.

But as quickly as it came, the panic was gone. He was doing what he wanted: starting on the road he and his father had talked and dreamed about, to make Nicholas Fielding the best in his field, the most powerful and influential—and wealthy.

He would also be getting away from Stanford and the memories that dogged him. And he would be going alone; he was not planning his fiiture around anyone else. He'd tried that, and gotten stung, and he wasn't about to do it again. He had too much to do and he didn't know how long it would take him, but he did know he'd do it best, and fastest, alone.

He was turning to leave when the telephone rang. Automatically, he answered it. "Hi," Sybille said. Her voice was husky and caressing; different from the last time he had seen her, the week before. "I don't remember whose turn it is to call, but I hope you can come to dinner tonight."

"I'd like that," he said, smiling, and when they had set a time and he hung up, he was still smiling. He admired the easy way she had invited him, even though it was still hard for her. There was so much to admire in Sybille, Nick thought. There was much to pity, especially her aloneness and lack of humor, but there was more to admire.

And because he admired her, and liked her, he knew he had to tell her, right away, his plans for the future. He hadn't told anyone but his parents about the company he and Ted Mcllvain, one of his roommates, would be starting next month in San Jose, but now he thought he owed it to Sybille, because she depended on him so much. And that night, as they sat over coffee, he told her.

"San Jose!" she cried, as if it were on another planet instead of a few miles away. "But why? Everything you want to do you can do right here!"

"We might, but Ted's aunt has a house there thafs empty, and she's letting us have it for a year. So what we save on rent we'll put into the

company. Besides, San Jose is where the customers are. It's only a short drive away," he said gendy.

She shook her head. "Ifs not the miles. It's the differences. You'll look out the window and see different places; you'll be meeting different people; you'll be thinking about different kinds of work and different kinds of excitement. Palo Alto won't be real for you anymore, and neither will I."

Once again he was struck by her cold, biting intelligence. Palo Alto won't be real for you ... It was true; he knew it. When he had come to Palo Alto, he had felt a distancing from his home, his hometown, even his family. They were no longer permanent parts of the life he was making for himself. He knew he would never live with them again.

He glanced around Sybille's apartment. It was small and drab, but it was familiar. He put his hand on hers. "We'll find each other. If that's what we want, we'll manage it."

"If it what we want?" Her voice, still with that new huskiness, had turned wistful. "You know just where you're going and how you're going to get there, and you'll do it all, I know you will; but I'm still trying to find a way out of here." Her lip was quivering and she held it between her teeth as she turned her hand to clasp Nick's. "It isn't your fault that I'm in this mess; you've been wonderful to me. I know how much you have to do, and you want to do it fast; you don't want to be stuck with someone who's... lost... her way..."

Her head was bent. The smooth line of her neck trembled slightly, as if awaiting a blow. Nick's heart contracted. He laid his hand on her neck and caressed her warm skin, his fingers moving beneath the loose collar of her blouse to her shoulder.

A long, shuddering sigh escaped Sybille. "I wish..." she said almost inaudibly.

"What.>" Nick asked. His hand tightened on her shoulder and he turned her to him.

"... I was stronger and better. We could be together... and help each other I'd like to help you..."

Nick brought her face up to his and kissed her, his mouth opening hers, his hand moving beneath her blouse.

"No!" Sybille exclaimed. She pulled away, pushing back her chair so sharply it fell over. 'Tou can't, I won't let you—!" She took agitated steps around the small room. "You have a straight shot to where you want to be, you have everything going for you, and I'm not going to hold you back. You'd hate me for clinging—^"

"I'd never hate you." Nick stood beside her and put his arm around her shoulders to walk her firmly with him to her bed. "You're a strong, fine woman; you don't cling, and if you feel you've lost your way maybe I can help you find it."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "If you really mean that..."

He bent to kiss her again. "One of these days you'll stop doubting yourself"

"Maybe... with your help..." Sybille murmured. She searched his face, then smiled with more delight than he had ever seen in her. "I'm so glad..." she said, the word lingering in a sigh, and then, still looking at him, she unbuttoned her blouse.

They undressed swiftly and lay on her bed. Her body was small and compact, her breasts pointed, like a young girl's, and her olive skin was soft and moist. Her eyes were closed and she did not speak or even smile; her face was absorbed, as if she were concentrating. Someone should teach her to smile, Nick thought, and laugh and joke...

Damn it, he cried silently, and bent over Sybille as she moved beneath him. "Look at me," he commanded.

Surprised, her eyes flew open, but just as swifdy closed. She could not look at him and she hated him for demanding it. It should have been enough for him that he was in her bed and that she'd make sure he was satisfied.

She felt his weight and the heat of his skin; her hands moved over his body and she arched beneath him, and then, at the perfect moment, she opened her legs. "Mine," she said, but it might have been only a sigh, it was so low, like a single note beneath the thunder of an orchestra. She gripped Nick's narrow hips between her thighs as if to show him how strong she could be, and guided him into her. And it was all right, better than usual, because she liked him and, so far, he had treated her better than anyone she'd known. I might even enjoy it, she thought.

For a long time, she had tried to enjoy being in bed with a man; she'd tried so hard to feel the waves of pleasure she read about and could sometimes give herself. But nothing ever happened. No matter how she moved or what fantasies she conjured, nothing happened. Maybe with Nick, she thought. It was almost a prayer. Then she stopped thinking and let her body move on its own, skillftilly sensuous, not aroused but wet enough to do what it had to do to the last shuddering breath, and do it so perfectly no one had ever guessed that she wasn't the least bit involved.

When they lay quiedy, Nick held her and she turned her face to his

shoulder, her lips brushing his skin. But in a moment, tears ran from beneath her eyelids and Nick felt them.

"Sybille, what is it?" He tilted her face and searched it. 'What is it now.>" he asked and there was a thread of impatience in his voice.

"Nothing. I'm sorry, there's nothing wrong. You're wonderful. I love being with you, I love you—" She caught her breath and tried to look away, but Nick held her firmly and she met his eyes, seeing him blurred through her tears.

"Go on," he said.

"I love you," she repeated, her voice low. "But it won't work, our being together: it's the wrong time. If we'd met a year from now, when you have your company started... well, but we didn't. And you're right to go to San Jose, you're right to do everything you can for yourself; you shouldn't be thinking about me. I'll be fine, you know; I know what I want, and I'll go after it the same way you're doing. I can't stay here, either; I should be in Los Angeles or New York." She brushed away the last tear that had not yet dried. "I was just feeling lonely because this was so wonderful, being with you tonight, it's always wonderful, but I'd never try to stop you from leaving, because you don't need me right now."

Nick gazed at her for a long moment. A few minutes earlier he had been astonished at her passion, and grateful for it, because he had known then that he could feel more for her than pity and admiration. Now he felt it all: his heart ached for her loneliness and lack of confidence; he admired her courage and her determination; and he knew there were fires within her that he could free. He would teach her to love and laugh and to be sure of herself. He tightened his arm around her. "You'll come with me," he said.

Sybille drew in her breath, then shook her head, a tiny frown between her eyes. "You musm't say that. Men say things in bed they don't mean."

"Oh, for God's sake," he said impatiendy. "I don't know which men you've been in bed with but if you think I'm in a weakened condition, limp with gratitude, you've got me wrong." He grinned at her. "I won't change my mind."

Her eyes were fixed on his. "If you're sure... I couldn't stand it if you weren't..."

"Sybille." He turned her to him and repeated her name, his voice caressing it. "Sybille, I want you to come with me. I can't leave you. You said it yourself: we'll be together; we'll help each other."

She was holding her breath. She closed her eyes and let it out

slowly. Little by little her muscles loosened until she lay completely relaxed within Nick's embrace, her hand on his chest, her lips touching the hollow of his throat. With another sigh, she gave herself over to him. "Yes," she whispered.

Nick felt a sudden shock as the enormity of it struck him. He willed it away and turned his head to kiss her forehead. "I love you, Sybille," he said.

A week later, in a simple ceremony in the office of a Palo Alto judge, Nicholas Fielding and Sybille Morgen were married.

They moved to San Jose and setded into a small house on the southern edge of the city. Since the house belonged to Ted Mcllvain's aunt, and the two men were setting up their company in the family room, Ted moved in, too. He took over the upstairs, with its two small bedrooms and bath, while Sybille and Nick settled into a larger bedroom and bath downstairs. The three of them shared the living room, dining room and kitchen. "I'm sorry we have to start out this way," Nick said. "It won't be long before we have our own place. That's a promise."

Sybille ran her fingers along the chipped Formica dining table. Valerie would take one look at this place and walk out. If Valerie had a new husband, she'd never share a house with anybody. Valerie would never let a stranger squeeze her into a bedroom and one bathroom, with or without a new husband.

And Nick wouldn't ask her to. He wouldn't have done this to her in the first place. If Valerie was his wife, he would have found some other way.

But Valerie wasn't his wife. Valerie was gone and Sybille was Mrs. Nicholas Fielding. And Sybille was the woman to whom Nick was making promises.

'It's all right," she said, moving into his arms. She reached up to kiss him, exulting in the tightening of his arms about her. He wanted her. And he would forget Valerie.

He'll forget her long before I do.

She spoke against his lips. "As long as we have each other, we don't need a grand house."