Alien Wife

Daniel McGregor was surprised to see Luke at the table. He glanced round at Mrs Tully bringing in a tureen of Scotch broth and exclaimed: ‘I thought you were having a picnic lunch today, Luke.’

Luke gave a faint smile. ‘I decided to wait until Abby could accompany me,’ he remarked levelly. ‘I took her over to the Jamesons’ myself.’

‘Indeed?’ Abby sensed that her uncle was not best pleased. ‘And where do you plan to go this afternoon?’

‘Where would you suggest?’

Daniel shrugged his narrow shoulders. ‘Well, Keilaig is nearest, I suppose.’

‘Keilaig?’ Luke frowned.

‘There’s an old castle there,’ put in Abby, needing to dispel the strained atmosphere between them. ‘It’s not much more than a ruin now, but it gives a magnificent view over Loch Keil.’

‘You know it well,’ said Luke. ‘Are you sure you still want to come?’

Abby looked down at her plate. ‘I should like to,’ she answered quietly, and sensed that he was no more pleased with her than her uncle.

Luke had changed back into his former attire before lunch, and after the meal was over, Abby hurried upstairs to put on a fresh shirt. She didn’t have a lot of clothes and her jeans would have to do, but at least she could wear a different top. Deciding it might be cold at Keilaig, she wore a somewhat faded purple sweater with a roll neck, which nevertheless was warm and serviceable. Its ribbed lines drew attention to her swelling breasts, and she thought impatiently that it was really too small for her now. Still, her windcheater hid its more obvious limitations.

Mrs Tully encountered her in the hall. ‘Mr Jordan said to tell you he’s waiting in the car,’ she said half disapprovingly. Then: ‘Ach, I don’t know what the Father’s thinking of—letting you go off with a man like that!’ jerking her thumb towards the door.

Abby made an indignant sound. ‘I’m not a child, Mrs Tully. I can go out with whoever I like.’

‘Well, I’d have thought after what your mother suffered, poor thing, and him a friend of your aunt—–’

Abby turned towards the door. ‘I’ll see you later, Mrs Tully.’

‘Well, you watch yourself, miss, that’s what I say,’ Mrs Tully was saying as Abby closed the door with suppressed irritation behind her. As if it wasn’t hard enough, without other people reminding her!

Luke was sitting behind the wheel, and he leant across and pushed open the door from inside for her to climb in. Abby subsided on to the hide upholstery thankfully, glad the uncertainty in her legs was not having to be put to the test.

‘I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting,’ she murmured, folding her hands in her lap.

Luke made no comment and started the car, driving away from the presbytery with careful deliberation. Then he paused. ‘Right or left?’

‘Oh—right.’ She spoke jerkily. ‘The—the opposite way from the way we went this morning.’

Luke acknowledged this with a slight raising of his eyebrows, and they turned away from the village on the steep incline out of the valley. At the junction with the Achnaluin road, they turned west, following the single-laned track which petered out at Keilaig. A few specks of rain landed on the windscreen and the wipers quickly flicked them away. But they were followed by others that soon had the wipers working full-time.

‘It would rain, wouldn’t it?’ she exclaimed, with enforced casualness, intensely conscious of the limited proportions of their surroundings. With the rain driving relentlessly against the vehicle on all sides, they were entrapped in a square of what seemed to Abby, in her nervous state, almost claustrophobic intimacy. ‘Perhaps it will clear by the time we reach the castle.’

‘Do you really expect it to?’ Luke sounded bored.

‘It might. We get these freak storms in the mountains. In half an hour the sun could be shining.’

Luke cast a disbelieving look her way. ‘Not after the sky has been overcast all morning. I guessed it would rain.’

‘Then why did you come, then?’ Abby sounded a little distraite.

Luke shrugged. ‘It seemed to be expected.’

Abby sighed. ‘Uncle Daniel wouldn’t have minded if you had wanted to stay at the house.’

‘Now that I am sure of.’

Abby frowned. ‘Why?’

Luke made a dry grimace. ‘You know that as well as I do.’

‘Do I?’

‘Abby, don’t play games with me. I’m too old for those kind of tricks. You must know your uncle doesn’t approve of your spending too much time alone with me. No’—this as she would have interrupted him—‘let me finish. I’m not saying he doesn’t—well, like me. He tolerates me, at least. And he has no objections to my staying in his house. But I don’t think he bargained for you wanting to come out with me, do you?’

Abby absorbed this mutinously. ‘Are you saying you agree with him?’

Luke sighed. ‘Not exactly.’

‘Then what are you saying?’

‘What is it with you, Abby? Why did you want to come with me? What is it that attracts you? Me—or the Lamborghini?’

Abby pursed her lips. ‘That’s a rotten thing to suggest!’

‘Why is it? I’ve known women go out with men for the most peculiar reasons. And liking them isn’t always high on the list.’

Abby expelled her breath noisily. ‘Well, I do happen to —to like you.’

‘I see.’ Luke’s acceptance of her statement was ominous. ‘How well do you like me?’

Abby stared out at the driving force of the storm. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ And she didn’t.

‘You didn’t like me touching you this morning.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Abby pushed back her hair with a nervous hand. ‘Must you keep going on about that? I’ve told you, you startled me.’

‘All right.’ To her horror, the car appeared to be slowing, and after a moment he brought it to a standstill, the wipers stilling on the windscreen, completing the illusion of limbo-like isolation. Then he half turned in his seat toward her. ‘Now, tell me again.’

Abby’s throat felt so tight, every breath was an effort. ‘Please,’ she appealed, ‘can’t we go on? Or go back, if you’d rather.’

‘There’s no going back, Abby. Didn’t you know that?’ His arm was resting along the back of her seat. ‘Aren’t you hot wearing a thick sweater and a jacket?’

‘No!’ She shifted jerkily. ‘I—you’re wearing a jacket.’

‘This?’ He fingered the leather battle jacket he had worn that morning. ‘You know, you could be right.’ And withdrawing his arm for a moment, he struggled out of the jerkin, tossing it carelessly into the back of the car.

Abby did feel hot—but it was not just the weight of her clothing. She had the sensation of a non-swimmer thrown into the deep end of a swimming bath. Luke in this mood was wholly unpredictable, and not even the knowledge that she had, inadvertently, subtly altered their relationship could prevent her knees from shaking and panic from rearing its ugly head once more.

‘Come on, Abby,’ he said softly, and taking hold of the zipper of her jacket, he propelled it steadily downwards.

‘Oh, please …’

Eyes mirroring fear stared into his, and he shook his head cynically. ‘Don’t worry,’ he told her, continuing to slide the windcheater from her shoulders. ‘Even I would find it difficult to rape you in this vehicle!’

Her cheeks burned. ‘You shouldn’t say things like that!’

‘Why not? That is what you’re afraid of, isn’t it?’

‘No.’ She pulled her arms free of the jacket and he cast it into the back along with his own. She pressed the balled fist of one hand into the palm of the other. ‘I—I don’t think you would do a thing like that.’

‘Don’t you?’ His expression was wry. ‘I’m not sure I like that.’

‘Please! Stop baiting me.’

Driven beyond reason, her eyes were desperate, and his features hardened. ‘What would you have me do with you, then?’

She shook her head, staring down helplessly at her knees, and with a tremor of apprehension she felt his hand slide over and grip her nape under the silky curtain of her hair.

‘You know, I should have had more sense!’ he muttered, and she looped back her hair behind one ear to look at him.

‘Wh-why?’

He regarded her for a long disturbing minute. Then, before she could offer any resistance, he leant forward and kissed the down-soft curve of her cheek. His mouth was warmly compelling, and for an instant she had the craziest urge to tilt back her head so that his lips would encounter hers. It was not a calculated reaction, and its urgency left her strangely weak.

‘Oh, Abby,’ he said, resting his head back against the soft leather. ‘Someone should have warned me about you!’

‘Wh-what about me?’

He chewed impatiently at the inner skin of his lower lip. ‘How old did you say you were? Seventeen? Eighteen?’

‘I’m twenty,’ she asserted hotly. ‘At least, I shall be next month.’

‘Twenty!’ He shook his head, moving it from side to side against the headrest. ‘And did no one ever teach you the facts of life?’

‘Of course!’ She tried to shrug his hand away from her nape, but he didn’t let her go. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

He flexed his back muscles. ‘I don’t believe you do.’ He straightened, looking at her through narrowed lids. ‘You know what I think?’ He raised his eyebrows, but she made no reply, so he went on: ‘I think you should try your claws on someone else—someone less likely to take advantage of you.’

‘You’re not—taking advantage of me …’

Luke’s lips twisted. ‘And you don’t think I would?’

‘Would you?’

He flung himself back in his seat, his hands seeking the case of cheroots he always kept in the car. When he had one between his teeth, he nodded savagely. ‘You’re a beautiful girl, Abby. If no one’s ever told you that, let me be the first to reassure you. And I am only human! You’ve been throwing yourself at my head ever since you laid eyes on me, and while I’m perfectly willing to oblige, something tells me that that’s not what you want …’

‘And if it was?’

She spoke breathily, and he took the unlighted cheroot out of his mouth to stare at her disbelievingly. ‘Abby, if it’s a film star you want to be, it’s Scott you should be talking to.’

‘It’s not.’

Unknowingly provocative, her tongue appeared to wet her upper lip, and with a muffled oath he dropped the cheroot on the floor, his hands sliding possessively over her shoulders, compelling her towards him. His mouth on hers moved back and forward insistently, warm and probing, and disruptively sensual. Did he know she had never been kissed before? she fretted anxiously. Did he realise all the knowledge she possessed came from books like his own?

‘Stop fighting me, Abby,’ he spoke against the corner of her mouth, and she moved her head confusedly.

‘I’m not fighting you,’ she protested, the words dying on a gulp when his hand slid beneath her sweater to grip her bare midriff.

‘Come on,’ he breathed, his tongue tracing the curve of her lips. ‘Open your mouth …’

‘Open—oh!’

Her puzzled objection was stifled by the pressure of his mouth, forcing her lips apart to admit the searching penetration of his. No amount of reading, however adult, could have prepared her for the sensations he was arousing inside her, sensations that left her weak and submissive, neither seeking nor repelling the demands he was making on her. She didn’t resist when his hand probed further beneath her sweater, cupping one rounded breast and stroking the nipple with his thumb, but Luke could feel the thrusting urgency of his own body and he could no longer ignore it. For long, lingering seconds, his mouth continued to possess hers, and then he pushed her away from him, shoving open his door violently and getting out, heedless of the falling rain.

CHAPTER FOUR.

The draught of cold air was sobering and Abby caught an incredulous breath, pressing her palms to her burning cheeks, scarcely daring to believe what had occurred. She fumbled her sweater down over the waistband of her jeans and in doing so her wrist accidentally brushed her breast, still tender from the pressure of his fingers. She licked lips gone suddenly dry, and twisted the driving mirror round so that she could examine her face. Her pupils were wide and dilated, her cheeks splashed with hectic colour, her mouth bruised and bare of any make-up. It had happened, it had really happened! Somehow—she didn’t quite know how she had done it—she had aroused Luke Jordan’s interest!

She took a deep breath. He had kissed her. And not in any casual way. He had held her and kissed her until her head swam with the memory of it. She swallowed hard. It hadn’t been so bad, after all. And she hadn’t frozen up on him as she had been afraid she might do. She had let him do what he wanted, and not tried to stop him.

Then she remembered. Luke was outside now, in the pouring rain. She adjusted the mirror and leaned across his seat and said softly: ‘Won’t you come in, Luke? You’re getting soaked to the skin!’

Luke looked down at her broodingly, his face wet, his hair plastered to his head and neck. Then, without comment, he got back inside the vehicle, reaching for his cheroots again and lighting one, still without speaking. His sweater steamed, and the odour of damp wool mingled with the scent of his tobacco. When he stretched out a hand to start the engine, however, she put restraining fingers on his sleeve.

‘I think you ought to take off this—this wet jumper,’ she murmured awkwardly.

‘Do you?’

His voice was cold and cynical as before, and Abby looked at him reluctantly. ‘Yes. Yes, I do.’

‘You care about me?’ His lips twisted mockingly.

‘It’s not a question of caring,’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s common sense. You’re wet through.’

‘Perhaps I don’t care,’ he remarked.

Abby made an exasperated sound. ‘Don’t say things like that! It’s stupid to risk pneumonia for the sake of a little forethought.’

Luke stared at her grimly for a few moments, and then jabbing his cheroot into the ashtray, he lifted his arms and hauled the sweater over his head. He wore nothing beneath it, and the tanned brown flesh rippled with goose-bumps. With his chest bare, he looked younger, more vulnerable, and Abby was not unaware of the sexual attraction he possessed.

‘Here,’ she said, reaching determinedly into the back of the car, ‘put on your jacket. It’s better than nothing.’

‘Thanks.’ He slid his arms into the sleeves of the battle jacket and fastened the studs. If he was still shivering, she could not see it, his features taut and unyielding in the grey light.

‘I think we ought to go back,’ she ventured, and he cast a scathing look in her direction.

‘You think!’ he echoed. ‘We’re going back, Abby. Whatever you think!’

She regarded him anxiously. ‘Why are you so angry?’

‘For God’s sake!’ He started the engine savagely. ‘After what you just did, how the hell do you expect me to be?’

‘What—what did I do?’

‘Oh, God!’ He swore as in trying to turn on the narrow road, his tyres spun uselessly over the rim of a ditch. ‘I don’t believe even you are that naïve!’

Abby’s lips trembled. ‘You—wanted to make love to me?’

He glared at her. ‘Yes,’ he said aggressively, nodding his head. ‘That’s one way of putting it.’

Abby’s tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. ‘I—well, I didn’t—stop you …’

‘No,’ he agreed grimly, grinding his gears as he sought to bring the wheels back on to the track. ‘You didn’t do that.’

‘Then why are you angry with me?’

‘Abby, if I were your uncle, I’d put you across my knee and administer the thrashing you so justly deserve!’

‘Why?’ She couldn’t understand his attitude. He had wanted to kiss her, to fondle her—and she had not objected. So where had she gone wrong? What would Ella have done that she had not? Had her inexperience, her lack of sophistication been so obvious after all? ‘I—I thought you liked—touching me,’ she whispered.

Luke succeeded in bringing the Lamborghini round in a half circle, as much by skidding dangerously on the slippery surface as by any expertise at driving, and then he turned to face her, his expression forbidding.

‘Abby, did no one ever tell you, you don’t go around letting strange men—take advantage of you?’

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