Season of Shadows (18 page)

'I'll be back as soon as I can,' said Anton, and then the
door closed behind him, leaving Laura alone in the hall.

She stared at the heavy oak door through a red mist of
fury, and it was some time before she managed to control herself
sufficiently to put out the lights and climb the stairs up to the
bedroom Anton seldom shared with her now. The intimate dinner party,
which she had arranged with such care, had turned into a fiasco, and it
had also been a painful demonstration of how little consideration she
could expect from Anton. Added to this, he had behaved abominably
towards Graham and Gina. He had given most of his attention to Camilla,
and Laura felt that she could not blame their friends if they never set
foot on Bellavista's soil again.

Laura went to bed, but she could not sleep, and she lay
there staring up at the white ceiling
with
its
heavy wooden beams, her feelings fluctuating from anger to despair.
Anton had been away almost two hours; long enough for him to have
driven Camilla home and returned to Bella-vista twice. What were they
doing
?
Were they discussing business, or were they reliving passionate
memories in each other's arms?

'Oh, God, please help me! Please,
please
help me!' she groaned, switching off the light and burying her face in
the pillow in an effort to shut out the pain.

Moments later the sound of a car approaching the house
made her sit up in bed with a jerk. She recognised the sound of the
Jaguar's engine, and lay back against the pillows, her body tense as
she listened, and waited. Several minutes passed before she heard
Anton's heavy, muted footsteps coming down the carpeted passage, and
suddenly she knew she could not bear to see him. She turned over on to
her side and closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep, but her nerves
vibrated like a tightly coiled spring when she heard the door being
opened and closed. Seconds later the light was switched on beside her,
and the bed sagged beneath his hands as he stood leaning over her.

'Don't pretend you're asleep, Laura, because I know you're
not,' he accused mockingly, and her eyes flew open at once to find him
bending low over her.

'Don't touch me!' she cried out in disgust, shrinking from
him mentally and physically as her nostrils were filled with Camilla's
heavy, exotic scent. 'You're reeking of that woman's perfume,' she
accused sharply.

'Hm…' He sniffed himself appreciatively, and
smiled as if he were recalling something pleasant. 'A very exciting
perfume. You should ask her for the name, and use it yourself.'

'It would make me sick!'

'Pity,' he shrugged nonchalantly as he moved away from her
and took off his jacket and tie. He flung them on to a chair and calmly
proceeded to unbutton his shirt.

'Why did you invite her here this evening?' Laura
demanded, observing the gradual exposure of his broad, hair-roughened
chest with a hypnotic fascination.

'She's an old friend, and I happen to like her company.'

'Well, I
don't
!' she almost shouted
at him. 'She was stifling, to say the least.'

Anton's shirt joined his jacket and tie on the chair, then
he calmly unbuckled his belt, his eyes mocking her ruthlessly as he
said accusingly, 'You're jealous.'

Laura sat bolt upright in bed. '
Jealous
?'
she shrieked with angry indignation. 'Of
her
? You
must be mad!'

'She has a damn sight more poise and charm than you're
displaying at the moment,' Anton continued calmly and infuriatingly as
he dropped his belt on the floor and seated himself at the foot of the
bed to remove his shoes and socks.

'Poised she may be, but her charm left much to be
desired,' argued Laura, caught up in a passionate fury she had never
experienced before. '
Dahling
,' she mimicked
Camilla's voice to perfection. 'Do you remember that fabulously
exciting weekend we spent at that little hotel in the mountains? You
were such an absolute angel,
dahling.'

'You little vixen,' he laughed, reaching for her, but she
shrank from him with an exclamation of disgust.

'Don't you dare touch me!' she spat at him. 'I won't have
you coining to me directly from that woman's arms.'

'We shall see about that,' he snapped, ruthless hands
dragging her back against the pillows when she tried to escape, and
then he was pinning her down with the weight of his body.

'Have you no sense of decency?' she cried, fighting him
off like a wildcat with every particle of strength she possessed, but
he stripped her effortlessly until nothing stood in the way of his
questing hands. 'I hate you!' she screamed at him, her eyes filling
with tears. 'I hate you, do you hear?'

'Shut up!' he ordered harshly, his lips like fire against
her throat.

'I won't shut up! I hate you, I—'

His mouth silenced hers with effective brutality, but this
did not deter her from fighting him every step of the way until, shamed
at the way her flesh responded to his touch, she called him every kind
of hateful name under the sun. Somehow, she had no idea when, he had
divested himself of the rest of his clothes, and when she felt that
hard, muscular body against her own, she began to realise the futility
of her efforts. Anton's expertise as a lover wore down her resistance
until an intolerable surge of excitement forced a cry of pleasure from
her lips, and the hands which had clawed and pushed at his shoulders
moments before now gripped tightly as desire drugged her mind and ruled
her body.

Nothing mattered at that moment, not even the faint
suggestion of Camilla's perfume which she felt certain still clung to
him, and, grasping a handful of his crisp, dark hair, she drew his head
down on to her breast and surrendered herself to the emotions only he
could arouse in her.

Anton was dressed and ready to leave for the office when
Laura awoke the following morning, and she observed him through lowered
lashes when he crossed the room to open the curtains.

'There's a heavy mist on the mountain which is not unusual
for this time of the year,' he remarked, turning towards her and
trailing his glance over her shape beneath the sheet as if calling to
mind every part of her body. 'I'll be home late this evening. I'm
dining out with Camilla.'

The mention of Camilla's name, after what had happened the
previous evening, was like waving a red flag at a bull, and Laura sat
up in bed with a start. 'You're the most disgusting, the most
despicable—oh, I
hate
you!'

She flung a pillow at him, wishing it was something
lethal, but Anton caught it smartly and flung it back at her with a
force that knocked her back against the pillows.

'It seems as though I married a little spitfire,' he
mocked her as he approached the bed, and his mockery added fuel to the
fire of her anger.

'How dare you treat me like this! Flaunting your affair
with that woman in my face is positively indecent!'

'I'm not answerable to you for anything I might do,' he
said gratingly as he leaned over her, and his attitude was all at once
so menacing that she clutched the pillow against her breast like a
shield.

'I don't deserve to be treated like this, Anton. I'm your
wife.'

His mouth hardened into a thin, ominous line. 'A wife is
nothing but a glorified mistress, and that's all I require from you, so
don't imagine it gives you the right to dictate my actions to me.'

Laura flinched when he slammed the bedroom door behind him
moments later, but she lay there dry-eyed and with a sick feeling at
the pit of her stomach as she stared up at the ceiling.
A
wife is nothing but a glorified mistress
, he had said.
A
glorified mistress
! The words reverberated through her mind
and seared through her soul like a red-hot poker. She threw aside the
pillow and sat up, but a wave of nausea sent her rushing through to the
bathroom, and later, when she leaned weakly against the basin, she
stared at her white face in the mirror, and knew the worst. She was
going to have his child!

She went down to breakfast an hour later and caught Sally
on her way out. Sally took one look at Laura and exclaimed, 'You look
terrible!'

Laura had always found her childish candour amusing, but
at that moment she felt very much like bursting into tears as she
dropped a light kiss on the little girl's forehead and pushed her
towards the door. 'You'll be late for school.'

On the steps Sally paused and glanced back at her with
concern. 'I hope you feel better this afternoon.'

With Sally's departure a silence settled about the house
which Laura found utterly depressing. The silence had never troubled
her before, but she would go mad with, nothing to do until her niece
returned home that afternoon, she thought frantically as she helped
herself to a cup of coffee.

The shrill ringing of the telephone half an hour later
jarred her fragile nerves, but it was almost a relief to be doing
something, and she hurried into the hall to answer it.

'Laura DeVere?' a man's voice questioned abruptly.

'Yes,' she replied hesitantly, trying to place him.

'Alex Muir,' he announced, setting her mind at rest.
'Look, I know you told me you'd let me know what you've decided, but
for days now I've been staring at that rough sketch I made of you, and
I wondered…' There was an embarrassed silence, then he
asked, 'What about it, Laura?'

'Alex, I… don't know, I…'

'Please?' he begged. 'I'm fired with inspiration at the
moment, and you wouldn't want it all to go to waste, would you?'

Laura hesitated, but already the idea was beginning to
appeal to her. It would be an excuse to get out of the house, and it
would be something with which to fill the empty hours until Sally
returned home in the afternoons.

'How long will it take?' she asked, not quite sure yet
what to do.

'A week—maybe two.'

'Why not?' a little voice urged her, and before she could
change her mind, she asked, 'When do you want me there?'

'Right now, if you can make it,' Alex replied, unable to
hide the excitement in his voice, and Laura smiled faintly when she
heard it.

'Give me your address,' she said without further
consideration, and scribbled it down hastily before ringing off.

Alex's Sea Point flat had an excellent view of the sea,
Laura discovered less than an hour later, and it looked more like a
workshop than a place to live in. Paintings ranging from landscapes to
portraits were propped up against the walls, and the place reeked of
turpentine and oils.

'Lady, I shall always be grateful to you,' Alex smiled at
her as he led her across the room towards the largest window. 'Would
you like something to drink before we start?'

Laura shook her head nervously. 'No, thank you.'

'Right,' he nodded abruptly, looking extremely
businesslike now as he gestured towards a long, low stool. 'Sit there,
if you don't mind. Draw your legs up under you a little, and look
towards the window. You can see the ocean, can't you?'

'Yes,' she smiled nervously, doing as she was told.

'Now just relax. Be comfortable, and imagine you're
sitting on the rocks at Gordon's Bay.' He observed her critically for a
moment, then his lean features broke into a smile of approval. 'That's
it!'

He picked up his easel and, placing it a little distance
from her, began to work with quick, deft strokes.

'May I talk?' Laura asked at length when her thoughts
began to dwell on the painful confrontation she had had with Anton that
morning. 'Or do you need silence when you work?'

'You may talk as much as you like,' he assured her, his
quick smile flashing at her across the easel.

'I couldn't help noticing all those framed paintings
leaning against the walls,' she said. 'Are you planning an exhibition
of some sort?'

'Yes, I am, and if this portrait turns out to be what I'm
hoping for, then it will be the highlight of the exhibition.'

Laura digested this for a moment in silence before she
laughed selfconsciously and said: 'I'm not sure whether I should feel
flattered or nervous.'

Hazel eyes laughed at her across the easel. 'You have
nothing to feel nervous about. That's my department entirely, so just
relax.'

During the following two weeks Laura sat for Alex every
morning, except weekends, and during those morning sessions she began
to look upon him as a friend. He made her laugh a lot, which was
something she had not done for a long time, but most of all those hours
spent with him in his improvised studio made her forget temporarily
that Anton was almost constantly in Camilla's company. She was
intensely curious, however, to see the painting, but Alex was adamant.
'No one sees it until it's completed,' he had said, and she had left it
at that.

'Loosen your hair,' he told her when she came for one of
her last sittings. 'I want to concentrate on your features this
morning.'

Laura did as she was told, and drew it forward across her
shoulder as he instructed, 'Is this how you want it?'

'That's just fine,' he said, eyeing her critically before
he set to work. 'How's the merry widow?'

'I beg your pardon?' she asked, glancing at him blankly.

'Look out of the window,' he ordered sharply, and when she
had done so, he explained, 'I'm talking about the luscious Countess von
Dissel. Have you seen her lately?'

Her eyes clouded. 'No.'

'She's a thorn in your side, isn't she?'

'Yes,' Laura admitted, bitterness welling up inside her.

'How does your husband feel about her?'

'He thinks her charming, and poised, and very beautiful,
naturally,' she said tritely, driving the sword into her own heart with
every painful word she uttered.