Robyn Donald – Iceberg (15 page)

said that 'she was stupid, but that had no^ stopped him from loving her or Justin from marrying her. And the

child she had made with him was certainly not stupid. Apart from that she knew only that they resembled each

other slightly. Sarah's treasured photograph showed a young girl, nor like Linnet in feature at all, but Stewart

had said that the colouring was similar. ,

'What are you thinking of?'

She looked startled by the thread of anger in his voice. Of course he couldn't read her. thoughts! But he certainly

looked as though he could; there was a darkening of his features that warned of emotions held on a tight rein.

'Just thinking,' she retorted", deliberately vague. 'And swiftly,' Justin, what does Stewart do for you?'

His expression hardened into hauteur. 'He works for the organisation. Why?'

It was obviously foolish to carry on, but she had developed an affection for Stewart over the past few weeks.

Exasperating though he was, his wry acceptance of his faults, his lack of the usual pretences which weak people

often hide behind to conceal their weaknesses from themselves endeared him to her. And she knew he was

unhappy.

'I just wondered,' she said lamely.

He leaned forward, that tough expression once more predominant 'Don't let him play on your sympathy,' he

advised hardly. 'He's an expert at it, and it means nothing. He's had more chances than most and taken none of

them.'‘'

'So Bronwyn said.'

He took her up on this swiftly. 'Bronwyn?'

'Yes.' Linnet was uncertain now what to say. If he was going to be annoyed by Bronwyn's discussion of his

cousin's weaknesses she certainly wasn't going to say anything about it.

But he merely said, 'Bronwyn dislikes waste of any sort, so she finds Stewart very irritating. He goes out of his

way to antagonise her, of course. It's his usual method of making himself unpopular. Do you see much of him?'

The question was abrupt, flung at her with a hard swiftness which made her blink.

'Well—not much. He comes down sometimes in the evening, but he never stays for long.'

'Just don't let your sympathetic heart see another Sarah in him,' he told her with a narrow smile. 'Stewart is quite

happy, but he isn't averse to playing on the sympathies of an attractive woman. He's tried if with Bronwyn, but

she's experienced enough to see him for what he is.'

'And what is he?'

The broad shoulders moved in the slightest of shrugs. Irrelevantly Linnet remembered the hard warmth of them

against her hands the evening he had kissed her. Swift colour surged into her cheeks as she lowered her head,

thanking the storm for the dimness of the light.

'Stewart suffers from the ingrained belief that the world owes him—everything,' he told her harshly. 'That's all,

but it's been like a poisonous blight over his life. When you have children, Linnet, be very careful what you tell

them. There's nothing so powerful ^.as a mother's frustrated desires projected on to her children. Unless it's guilt

at one's undeserved good fortune.'

So. Rob had been right, and Justin blamed first his aunt and then himself for the lack of willpower in Stewart's

character. And because he was Justin, who was not one to shirk a responsibility, he kept Stewart by his side,

probably not realising that he was increasing his cousin's habit of dependence. Or perhaps he just didn't care.

Linnet couldn't help wondering whether what she thought of his mask, that icy strength which so well hid his

emotions, was, in reality, the whole man, and the only emotions he allowed himself were the impersonal ones of

responsibility, courage—and desire. Perhaps being unable to love, he deliberately chose for his wife Bronwyn,

who did not want to love again.

Then she remembered Sarah, and knew that she was only partly right. His love of his daughter was obvious in a

hundred small ways, even to the extent of forcing him to permit a person he despised into his house. Which

person being Eiluned Grant, who found herself in the far from enviable state of being physically drawn to him

as much as she was emotionally afraid of him.

What a situation! A bleak smile touched her lips as she wondered whether something in her make-up ensured

that she should become involved with those men who married her closest relations. First David—now almost a'

ghost—and then Justin, who was dangerous as David had never been.

And from whom it would be infinitely more difficult to run, for she had promised Sarah to stay.

'You seem amused,' he interrupted her thoughts with cold irritation, standing as he spoke.

The lamplight caught his hair, turning me ends and the highlights to a tawny shade beneath which the grey eyes

lost what colour they possessed. Viking-tall, he moved with silent gait across
to
the window, drawn, perhaps, by

the same instincts which had taken Linnet there earlier in the evening, a primitive pleasure at being out of the

storm, warm and dry and secure.

Against their conversation the wind had been increasing in intensity, pouncing on the house with the wilful

cruelty of a cat playing with its prey, so that the windows rattled in the fiercer gusts, adding their noise to that of

the storm.

'It seems to be getting worse,' she said on an indrawn breath. 'I hope nobody got caught in it.’

Justin looked through the windows with sombre intensity.

'God help them if they are, because there's nothing anybody can do for them. Are you frightened?'

'No,' she denied, too quickly to be convincing.

'It won't last long at this rate. Before morning it will have blown itself out. Why don't you go to bed and get

some sleep?'

'I don't think I could sleep with this racket going on.'

He moved away from the windows, a slight smile softening his expression. 'The house is built strongly enough

to take any storm, even if the windows d^ rattle slightly. Choose a record to put on and I'll give you a game of

chess.'

'Chess?' She couldn't prevent the "dismay which coloured her voice. 'Couldn't we play something a little simpler

—like Snakes and Ladders?'

He laughed at that but shook his head. 'That's pure "chance.. How about Chinese Checkers?'

'Well—all right, but there's altogether too much thinking to be done in that for my liking,' she retorted, aware

dial she should have taken his suggestion and retired for the night. If she had any sense at all she would be

snugly tucked up in her bed, away from his disturbing personality and the danger he represented.

Perhaps she was a fool, but she declined to compound her foolishness by putting on the sort of record which

seemed to predominate. Music to make love by, she thought grimly, finally selecting a disc of light classics.

Pleasant and innocuous, with no erotic undertones to emphasise the fact that she was almost alone in the house

with the most enigmatic, interesting man she had ever met.

As it was, she found the experience of playing a child's game with him extremely unsettling. The setting was

almost too dramatic to be credible, the shrieking wind outside, the comfortable room with its circle of lamplight

enclosing them in intimate softness, the man, handsome as a Nordic god, intent on beating her at the simple

game. And when he had won, and the record had finished, he changed it for one of Cleo Lane singing love

songs, the brilliant voice sensuous in the stagey atmosphere.

'Do you play backgammon?' he asked lazily, settling himself on to the sofa beside her.

'No. And I don't think I want to learn,' she returned, stiffening slightly at his proximity.

'Why do you pretend to be stupid? I know you're intelligent.'

'I just haven't got the right brain for games.' She wanted, to move away, but felt herself caught in the brilliance

of his glance, ensnared like a moth by a candle.

Justin was smiling as though he knew that fire licked along her veins, lifting her to a totally new plane of

existence. With eyes which were wide pools of pure gold about a black centre Linnet stared down at her hands,

aware that they were trembling very slightly, The singer's voice floated over them, lazy yet filled with longing,

surprisingly strong against the elemental background of the storm without, barely able to make itself heard over

the storm which raged within Linnet's breast.

With a kind of fatalistic courage she knew that she wanted him, wanted to lose herself in the strength of his

arms and body, ease the torment of her need by surrendering to it. It would be easily accomplished, she was not

particularly experienced, but she sensed that he desired her as much as she wanted him.

If only he would make the first move.... ^ Abruptly she looked up, met the fierce demand of his eyes, and found

her breath coming heavily through her lips. But he did not move a muscle, though she could feel the intense

self-control he was exerting. So he would not seduce her .against her will. If she spent the rest of the flight in

his bed it would be at her desire, not because be ' had overborne her protests with the glamour of his practiced

lovemaking-No, he was relying on the strong sexual attraction which sparked between them to persuade her

into his arms.

And she knew she could not.

'I think I'd better get to sleep,' she said on an indrawn breath, the words coming raggedly through her lips as she

fought his dangerous attraction with every scrap of will power.

'Very well.' He showed no anger, not even disappointment. 'I'll show you which light goes on".'

'No—you don't need to.' The idea of him in her bedroom was unbearable.

He smiled, a cold movement of his mouth. 'Very well. It's the switch by the window.'

Once in her room she put the light on, pulled the curtains across the window and without thought went into the

bathroom she shared with Sarah, where she washed her face with cold water. The trembling she had noticed
'm

her hands had by now spread to her whole body, she felt as, though she had a high fever which the cold water

did nothing to abate.

But when she was at last in the warmth of her bed, surrounded by the friendly darkness, she found she was

crying, softly yet hopelessly,-as if she had been betrayed. And long hours later, when the wind had died and

there was only the sound of the rain thrumming on the iron roof, she found it in herself to be grateful that Justin

had not tried to persuade her, and thankful that she had possessed enough of the instinct for self-preservation to

leave him alone in the living room.

By the time she woke the next morning even the rain had stopped, and the sun was out in a sky so blue that it

hurt her eyes.

'The sea is still up,' Sarah told her, 'but the power's back on, and Daddy says it won't be long before Mr and Mrs

McCarthy are back.'

Linnet found it was possible to smile in spite of the fact that she seemed to have a stone in the middle of her

chest. Sarah had brought her in a cup of coffee— instant—and a rosebud, not scathed at all by the storm.

Earnest and rather proud of her expertise, Sarah was very endearing, and when Linnet dropped a kiss on the top

of her head she looked up with her heart in her eyes.

'That was nice,' she exclaimed breathlessly. 'Linnet, I
do
like you! You look like a flower, a flower on a long

stem, all graceful and slender.'

Touched by the patent sincerity in her eyes and voice, Linnet gave - her a swift hug. 'That's the nicest

compliment 'anyone has ever paid me, heart's delight. Have you given your father his coffee?'

'Oh, he's been up for ages. He went for a swim almost before the sun was up, I think.'

As Linnet sipped her coffee she worried about meeting Justin again after last night. But when she had dressed

and made her way into me kitchen she realised she had worried unnecessarily.

He sent her a swift, cool assessment of a glance, then nodded. 'Good morning, Linnet.'

Shamefully, she was somewhat piqued by his lack of emotion.

'Good morning, Justin.'

'Can I cook you a flounder? I found three in the fridge.'

'Can you?'

He smiled Ironically at that, but replied mildly enough, 'I can't claim Cordon Bleu status, but I can produce a

reasonable meal, given time.'

The fish were, delicious, simply fried-and served with slices of lemon and tufts of parsley which Sarah insisted

on scattering over them.

'Just the right sizes,' she announced with satisfaction,
'A
father-sized one, a mother-sized one for you, Linnet,

and a littler one for me. We're a family!' i .

There were times, Linnet decided, when the innocence of youth was downright embarrassing. Head lowered,

she didn't dare to look at the man opposite her.

In an amused voice he responded, 'True, but Linnet is too young to be your mother, honey.'

'Not too young to be your wife, though,' his daughter countered swiftly. 'She's not too young for that, is she?'

There was a moment of silence, then Justin's urbane tones, 'She might think so. Eleven years is quite a

difference in ages, when one is as young as Linnet. What
do
you think, Linnet?’

Fortunately she had a mouthful, so she was granted a few moments' respite while she chewed what had

suddenly turned into flannel. Then in a voice which sounded a little like her own she answered, 'It depends

entirely on the people concerned, surely.'

'Ah, but given the people, concerned,' Justin goaded smoothly, 'what do you think? Am I too old for you?'