Whirlwind (11 page)

Whatever reason Laird had for being the way he was, the fact remained—he was cynical where women were concerned and determined not to commit himself to another one. Any woman who let herself care about him was asking to get hurt, and Anna was no masochist.

He turned suddenly, his face wry with self- mockery. 'Oh, to hell with it! I shouldn't have started talking about her, the subject always depresses me.' He closed his hands around her small waist and smiled into her eyes. 'Enjoyed your ride?'

'It was fun,' Anna said huskily, her breathing suddenly rapid.

Laird lifted her off the old rocking horse, his hands gripping her waist tightly, but he didn't put her down at once. He held her so that their faces touched andgently kissed her mouth, his lips warm and searching. Anna fought not to enjoy it; she kept her eyes open, watching him, and saw his eyes had closed. He slowly let her slide downwards, their bodies touching, then he locked her close to him without taking his mouth from hers and bent her backwards in the circle of his arms. Anna's head began to swim, she clutched at his wide shoulders to keep her balance, protesting in a muffled way under his exploring mouth.

In her struggle, she moved too close to the little brass bed, and suddenly realised it when the back of her knees touched the side of it.

'Let go,' she muttered, wrenching her head backwards, and Laird looked down at her through half- closed eyes, breathing hard.

'I think I hear Patti coming,' Anna lied, and he laughed, his eyes wickedly amused.

'I can only hear your heart beating,' he mocked, watching the heat flowing up her face to her hairline.

'Well, we ought to go down . . . '

'They won't be worried, this is a big house, we could take hours to explore it.' He lifted a hand to her ruffled red-gold hair, sliding his fingers through it gently, combing the strands and letting them fall again. 'Your hair's a fabulous colour,' he murmured. 'Like fire, like candle flames.'

She gave him a quick, disturbed look, remembering that candlelit dinner and what had followed it, and Laird's grey eyes gleamed with enjoyment, the thought flashing between them as if they could read each other's minds, and Anna thought with a pang of misery that she often felt she could read his thoughts, they had a telepathic link, only to be plunged into uncertainty when a shutter went up between them. Laird could shut her out of his mind, but she wasn't quite so sure that she could exclude him from hers. He seemed to know far too much about her.

'I wasn't entirely joking, Anna,' he said suddenly. 'In the car, when I offered you a flat—you really should get out of that filthy little room. It's no fit place for you. I hate seeing you in it. Why don't you let me take care of you?'

Her face turned white. 'No,' she said in a low, hoarse voice.

'I'm trying to be straight with you, Anna,' he said quickly. 'I've told you why I don't believe in marriage, but that doesn't mean you can't trust me to take care of you. I want to look after you, Anna.'

'I can look after myself!' She pushed at his shoulders, frowning angrily. She was afraid he would see how much he had hurt her by the offer; he mustn't realise she was vulnerable to him, he would only take advantage of that.

'You haven't made much of a job of it so far!' he retorted, looking impatient.

'I think I've made a damn good job of it,' Anna said, resenting that. 'I have a roof over my head, just about enough money and a job with an exciting future—lots of people would think I was lucky! And I haven't been reduced to selling myself yet.'

'That wasn't what I meant!' he snapped, his face dark red.

'Wasn't it?'

'No, it damn well wasn't. I'm not trying to buy you. I just suggested that your life might be a lot easier if you let me take care of you. Why shouldn't we live together? Hundreds of other couples do it every day, why shouldn't we?'

'Maybe because they're in love,' Anna said bleakly. 'And we're not!'

He stared at her, his eyes glittering. 'In love? What does that mean, anyway? Wish-fulfilment, fairytale endings, delusion! I thought you had more sense than that. I don't want you making me promises you won't keep, nor will I make them to you—but I'm a rich man and I can do a lot for you. I enjoy being with you, you're good company and I find you physically attractive—isn't that a better basis for living together than a lot of empty words about being in love for ever? At least I'm honest when I tell you what I feel.'

'That's just it,' Anna said bitterly. 'You don't feel anything.'

His mouth went crooked and a gleam came into his eyes. 'Oh, no, you're wrong,' he said huskily, and she trembled at that look, backing away from him, forgetting that the bed was so close. She gave a little wail as the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed, and couldn't regain her balance in time. Laird laughed softly at her startled expression and a second later was on the bed with her, his mouth hunting for hers. Anna didn't have time to think; a wave of instinctive feeling hit her as his kiss parted her mouth, and she went down under it, drowning in passion.

Her eyes shut, she abandoned herself to the wild, erotic sensations he was arousing in her; his lips on her throat, her eyes, moving down between her breasts, their sensuous invitation making her dizzy. She lost all idea of time, all common sense.

'Now tell me I don't feel anything,' Laird mocked softly, lifting his head a long time later, and she lay on the bed, drowsily opening her eyes to look at that hard-boned, triumphant face.

As the desire drained out of her, she grew cold and miserable, realising what a fatal mistake she had made, betraying herself to him, letting her body command her mind. Laird's mocking little smile was like a knife in her heart; he thought he had won.

'That isn't emotion,' she whispered shakily. 'That's chemistry. There's nothing special about it; you could have the same pleasure from any one of dozens of women, it doesn't mean a thing. And that isn't good enough for me. I want more from a man than sex.' She freed herself without difficulty, Laird's hands dropping away at once. Sliding off the bed, she ran her hands over her ruffled hair and walked unsteadily to the door, looking back at him from there, her chin up. 'The answer's still no, Mr Montgomery, and it always will be.'

He lay there, staring at her, his dark hair spilling over the pillow and his lean body sprawled casually on the bed, but he didn't answer, and Anna turned and went out.

She met Patti on the stairs and together they looked at the rest of the great house, but while Anna admired furniture and gently touched beautiful objects she was aching with compassion for Laird. He had offered her desire, a sensual delusion, a sating of the senses—but no love, and she would have starved in the streets rather than accept. He hadn't offered her love because he had none to give; he had once been hurt and he was determined never to love anyone again. Laird must be very lonely and emotionally in deep freeze; he wouldn't want her pity, but he had it.

A
NNA
did not expect she would ever see Laird again. He drove her back to her dingy little flat in a cool silence a few hours after that argument in the old nursery of his home, and she saw from the rigid planes of his face that he was angry with her for turning down his proposition. She could guess from that expression just how he looked to the directors of a company which had the temerity to reject an offer from him. Over lunch he and his father had talked about some firm Laird had wanted to take over but which was giving him a fight.

Til get them, don't worry,' Laird said through his teeth, scowling. 'And when I do, that board is out on its collective ear.'

Anna had looked down, her nerves jumping at his expression, feeling sorry for the directors he intended to fire, but now she felt far more sorry for herself. She didn't imagine Laird was mentally planning reprisals against her, but she hated to meet the cold, distant grey eyes and know that she was unlikely to be seeing him in future.

'Thanks for the lift,' she muttered as she got out of the Rolls. 'Goodnight.'

She almost said 'Goodbye', and the look Laird gave her made her feel that he had heard the word even if she hadn't said it. He drove off with a smooth snarl and Anna let herself into her flat a moment later, looking with distaste around the shabby room.

The contrast with the house she had just left was painful, but she still wasn't tempted to accept Laird's offer. He had talked about caring and looking after her, but he hadn't promised to love her, and without that the rest was worthless. After all, what would it cost him to give her a luxury flat, with or without a jacuzzi? He ran one of the biggest building firms in the country; he had probably built the whole damned luxury block of flats. It was easy for him to spend money; loving cost more.

She lay in bed later, brooding over him, and grimly eyeing the four square walls which held everything she owned. Now, if he had offered to move in here with her, that would have been a gesture of love! she thought—and then began to giggle helplessly at the very idea of Laird living in what he had contemptuously called 'that dump'.

She went to sleep that night fiercely determined to forget she had ever met him. It shouldn't be too hard—after all, her feelings towards him were very new, they should be easy to uproot, their roots could only be shallow.

Next morning she left at half past ten to get to the theatre by eleven-thirty for a rehearsal which ended at one o'clock, in time for the cast to have lunch and go home for a rest, until they had to get back to the theatre for the evening performance. They were getting into a routine now as they settled down to six evening performances a week, plus the Saturday matinee. Joey called the occasional rehearsal to keep their performance fresh and make sure they didn't slide into giving any less than their best but, that apart, they were all locked into the strange life-style which being in a long run meant. Getting up late, having a leisurely breakfast and doing the shopping and the housework before lunchtime, and afternoons which passed too rapidly and ended with an hour or two lying on her bed until it was time to go to the theatre; that was Anna's day now.

When she saw Patti at rehearsals she got a quick, friendly smile which was subtly different; they had been friendly for a long time now, but meeting Patti's parents, spending a day at her home, had made them friends. They had got to know one another away from the theatre. Yet Anna felt uncomfortably that it could never be a real friendship until Patti knew as much about the way
she
lived as Anna now knew about Patti's background. A one-sided intimacy was no intimacy at all.

'Come and have lunch with me one day this week,' she said lightly, later, as they were walking out of the theatre at the end of the rehearsal.

Patti looked surprised but nodded amiably. 'Love to—where?'

'My place,' said Anna, not caring to dignify the room with the description 'home'.

'When?' Patti asked, and they fixed a day and time, and Patti wrote down the address. Anna told her the name of the nearest underground station, but Patti said she would probably come by car. 'I'll get Jimmy to drive me over,' she said. 'Then you and I can go to the evening performance together, can't we?'

'Jimmy?' Anna repeated, puzzled.

'You met him at our house, remember?'

The penny dropped and Anna nodded. 'Oh, of course—your butler.' The name hadn't impinged on her consciousness.

'Well, he's more than that,' Patti told her, laughing. 'He does all sorts of things—he and his wife run the whole house, I don't know what we'd do without them.'

The following Friday Anna waited rather nervously for Patti to arrive, afraid of her reaction when she saw where Anna lived. It was impossible to cook a complicated meal on the electric ring which was all Anna had; so she had prepared a vegetable soup followed by salad. The room was tidy, but Anna kept remembering the splendour of Patti's home and wishing grimly that she hadn't invited her here.

At noon she began watching from the window for Patti's arrival; dead on a quarter past twelve the blue and silver Rolls came into sight, and Anna stiffened, trying to see the face of the driver. It wasn't Jimmy. It was Laird who got out of the driver's seat and came round to help Patti alight. His eyes shot upwards and Anna hurriedly moved away from the window, her pulses racing violently. He wasn't going to come in here, surely? He had only dropped Patti, she told herself, but all the same she listened tensely to the sound of footsteps and voices.

The knock on her door made her jump, she went to answer it reluctantly, her stomach churning at the prospect of facing Laird.

Patti seemed faintly nervous. 'Anna, Laird offered to come back later to drive us to the theatre—is that OK?' The words tumbled out too hastily and she was pink. It was obvious she was uncertain about Anna's reaction.

Anna looked at Laird distantly, her face masked. 'That's very kind of you,' she said without meaning it. Obviously he didn't like the idea of his sister travelling across London on a bus with her. That was OK for Anna; but unsuitable for Laird Montgomery's little sister. Did he also object to Patti being here at all?

His eyes were a flinty grey today, as hard as the rest of his face; she saw them slide past her and flick over the room.

'I'll be back at five-thirty,' he said crisply, then turned on his heel and vanished.

'You don't mind, do you?' Patti asked helplessly, and Anna made herself laugh and shake her head. • 'Why should I mind driving in a Rolls instead of going on the bus?' She gestured. 'Come in and sit down; lunch is more or less ready. It's very simple, just soup and salad, I'm afraid.'

Patti sat down in the only chair, her eyes drifting around the room. Anna watched her face drily.

'Well, what do you think?'

'Golly!' said Patti on a stunned breath.

Anna laughed. 'Well, I told you living in digs was no fun, didn't I?'

'I didn't imagine anything like this, though,' Patti said naively, then looked back at Anna. 'I think you're terrific, Anna; putting up with this to do what you want to do! You could earn so much more as a secretary or something boring like that, then you wouldn't have to live in a place like this. I admire you, I don't know if I could do it.'