A Bad Enemy

Jake Allard gave her a frowning glance. ‘You should have had that brandy,’ he said curtly. ‘There’s a flask in the glove compartment.’

‘I’m fine,’ she said off the top of her voice, then added, ‘Thank you.’

‘You look like hell,’ he informed her brutally. ‘What good is it going to do Murray to see you like this? Or is he used to it?’

Lisle set her teeth. ‘If we could just go?’

She’d hoped, childishly, that he would turn out to be a lousy driver, flashy, aggressive and impatient with other motorists, but of course, he was none of those things. Of course. She sat, hating him, across London, glad to be able to build on her anger because it kept the anxiety at bay.

He didn’t say much. Once he asked her if she had any preference as to the route they took, and later, if she wanted some music.

She said, ‘The quickest, preferably,’ to the first question, and, ‘Yes, please,’ to the second. Otherwise there was silence, only faintly disguised by the music.

In other circumstances, in other company she would have enjoyed the tapes. They were obviously of his own devising, and expertly done, and she couldn’t fault the choices he’d made either, although she wasn’t familiar with them all. Jack Jones, she recognised, and Carly Simon and Judy Tzuke. With any other man, that could have been a talking point, the first tentative stage in an acquaintance that might or might not develop into a relationship. But not with this man.

Every word he had said to her, every look he had given her was etched on her mind, and the acid had bitten deep.

Darkness had closed around them, and the street lights dwindled as the roads narrowed into lanes.

Lisle sat up suddenly, peering around her. ‘This isn’t the way to the Priory.’

‘He isn’t at the Priory,’ he said shortly. ‘He’s in intensive care in hospital.’

Lisle’s hand stole to her lips, stifling a sharp sound of distress. She said, ‘He hates—machines.’

‘So I gathered.’ His tone was dry. ‘But this time it wasn’t up to him to decide. And considering it was a matter of life and death, it was probably just as well.’

She said sharply, ‘If Murray is going to die, which I don’t necessarily accept, then he’d rather it was with dignity in his own bed than strapped up to some—electronic miracle.’

‘And if the electronic miracle were to live up to its name and save him—how would you feel then?’

She sank back in her seat, biting her lip. In a low voice she said, ‘He’s an old man, and this isn’t the first attack he’s had. I don’t think I—believe in miracles.’

‘I’d be interested to know what beliefs you do hold, if any,’ said Jake Allard. ‘But that can wait. In the meantime, perhaps you could control your most obvious doubts, especially in front of Murray.’

‘Of course I will!’ she said indignantly. ‘What do you take me for?’ As soon as the words were spoken, she could have kicked herself.

She didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling.

‘Another point for discussion at a later date, Miss Bannerman.’

Her hands clenched in her lap, the nails curling involuntarily into her palms. Was it possible that Murray could trust this man, like him—even tolerate him?

She saw the lights of the hospital in the distance with a strong feeling of relief. She would soon be rid of him, she thought. No doubt he had come to fetch her to Murray’s bedside out of consideration for the older man, but as Murray’s collapse had necessarily curtailed the discussions they had been having, there was no reason for him to linger, as she was prepared to make more than clear.

As the car turned in between the tall gates, she said, ‘I’d be grateful if you could drop me at the main entrance.’

‘I hate to pass up a novelty like your gratitude,’ he said. ‘But I’m afraid I can’t do as you request. I’m putting the car in the car park, and then we’re going in to see Murray together.’

Her voice shook with temper. ‘Forgive me, but aren’t you taking this togetherness thing a little too far? I’m sure you—intend to be kind,’ she added with heavy irony, ‘but from here on in, I’m sure Murray would prefer to see only members of his immediate family.’

‘Namely you and your brother, whenever he turns up.’ Jake Allard swung the car deftly into a spot between two other vehicles, and braked.

‘As a matter of fact, yes.’

He shook his head, as he switched off the lights and the ignition, and pocketed the keys. ‘I’m afraid it isn’t as simple as that, Miss Bannerman. There are other factors to be taken into account.’

‘Such as your overweening desire for control of Harlow Bannerman,’ Lisle asked sarcastically. ‘You can hardly badger Murray with business propositions now.’

‘I never did,’ he said flatly. ‘All the initial approaches have been made by him. Whatever your brother may choose to think, it’s Harlow Bannerman that needs Allard International at this juncture, and not the other way round. You’re a member of the company, Miss Bannerman, and a shareholder, presumably. Don’t you ever look at reports and balance sheets? I recommend that you do so, and in the near future. It could be instructive.’

She fumbled for the door catch, and the door swung open.

‘I don’t want to hear any more of this,’ she said, as she got out. ‘I’m going to see my grandfather. He’s all I need to know about right now.’

She had long legs and she strode out, hoping that he would take the hint and stay where he was, but when she reached the electronically operated sliding doors to the main foyer, he was beside her.

Lisle turned to him, her face frozen. ‘This is getting ridiculous.’

‘I quite agree,’ he said grimly. ‘Perhaps before you go rushing off in all directions to intensive care, you might care to listen to me for a moment. There’s something you ought to know.’

She looked up into the harshly unsmiling face, her green eyes widening. ‘There are—other complications? He can’t—oh God, he can’t be—dead already, and you haven’t told me?’

‘Of course not. But you’re right that there are complications—although it’s true to say that Murray is causing them, not suffering from them.’

Lisle felt unutterably weary. She slid a hand round the nape of her neck, freeing her heavy fall of copper hair from the confines of her coat collar.

‘All the complications seem to be in your head, Mr Allard. Could you explain more clearly, if you must, and a damned sight more quickly.’

‘Last time I gave you bad news, Miss Bannerman, you complained because I didn’t break it to you gently.’

‘Oh, I’m not listening to any more of this!’ Lisle turned away impatiently, but he detained her, taking her arm, not gently, and pulling her round to face him.

‘Yes, you are,’ he grated. ‘You’re going to listen, you spoiled little bitch, so that if Murray is conscious and able to speak, you’ll be able to tell him what he wants to hear.’

‘That I’m delighted he’s apparently selling out to you?’ Lisle demanded, green eyes sparkling. ‘The words would choke me.’

‘Then chew them well,’ he came back at her, his mouth twisting. ‘Because it’s no business deal he wants you to approve. What Murray’s waiting to hear is that I’ve asked you to marry me—and that you’ve agreed.’

CHAPTER TWO

THERE was a long screaming silence.

At last, Lisle said huskily, ‘You—cannot be serious.’

Jake Allard said with a kind of weary impatience, ‘Is it likely I’d be joking—about such a thing—and at a time like this?’

She looked at him blankly. ‘But Murray couldn’t—he wouldn’t. …’

‘Wrong on both counts, I’m afraid.’ The grey eyes flickered over her, then still holding her arm Jake began to propel her towards some of the tan leather benches, placed back to back in the main reception area. He said abruptly, ‘Sit down. I’m going to phone up to the unit and see if they’re ready for us.’

Lisle was thankful to feel the solid support of the bench under her. Her mouth was dry and she was shaking from head to foot. She found herself thinking with sudden mocking clarity that if she collapsed, at least it would be in the right place. She placed her folded hands on her knees, and sat staring at them, noticing almost detachedly the white knuckles, the strained grip of the slender fingers. She felt shattered. Incapable of assimilating what Jake had said, or rationalising it.

It seemed a very long time before Jake came back, but she knew that in reality it was only a few minutes. She looked up at his dark face, mentally bracing herself for more bad news, more shocks, but his cool, guarded expression gave nothing away.

‘Sister says fifteen minutes. We’ll go to the cafeteria and wait there.’

She didn’t even think of protesting. She went with him across the foyer to the lifts. An elderly man holding a bunch of flowers, a youth, barely out of his teens by the look of him, with his arm tenderly round the shoulders of a massively pregnant girl were already waiting. As the lift began its upward journey, Lisle found her gaze straying constantly to the young couple. The girl’s left hand with its wide golden band lay protectively over her distended abdomen, and although she was clearly nervous, she was smiling up at her husband, her eyes bright with excitement and happiness.

Marriage, Lisle thought numbly, the ultimate partnership. Sharing a life, sharing a bed, conceiving a child in mutual passion, caring for it together ….

She glanced at Jake and found him watching her with such irony that her face was flooded with sudden, burning colour.

The cafeteria was a dazzle of bright lights, stainless steel, and red formica-topped tables with matching plastic seats. The coffee was surprisingly good and came in thick white institutional cups. Lisle refused anything to eat, but Jake bought a round of cheese sandwiches and ate them with every evidence of enjoyment. When he had finished, he pushed the plate away and looked at her.

‘For God’s sake stop staring at me as if you expect to be leapt upon at any moment,’ he said. ‘I promise you nothing could be further from my mind.’

‘I wasn’t!’ Lisle denied indignantly. ‘But you can’t expect to—to spring things on me like that and expect me to take it in my stride.’

‘I suppose not.’ He gave her a long, considering glance. ‘Well, Miss Bannerman, I think we’d better talk—or may I call you Lisle, seeing that we’re practically engaged.’

‘We are not engaged!’ Lisle returned her cup to its saucer with a bang that even put that sturdy china at risk. ‘I’d rather die!’

‘Death before dishonour?’ The firm lips curved in frank amusement. ‘That’s a curiously old-fashioned viewpoint.’

‘I don’t give a damn how old-fashioned it is,’ she said shortly. ‘Arranged marriages aren’t exactly eighties-style either.’

‘I don’t think the Asian community among us would necessarily agree with you.’ Jake’s tone was deceptively mild. ‘And they have our galloping divorce rate to back them up too. But that’s by the way—what I really want to get across to you is that you’re not to give Murray a blow-by-blow account of your true opinion of me, my manners, morals or anything else which occurs to you. This scheme of his to marry us to each other is dear to his heart, and you’re not going to upset him by dismissing it out of hand.’

Lisle sat up very straight on the uncomfortable plastic chair. ‘You’re not suggesting that I should—go along with it?’

‘Why not?’ He gave her a level look. ‘I’m prepared to—and I have just as little taste for you as you have for me, darling. But although you probably don’t know it, Murray and I go a long way back. He was good to me when I was starting up, and gave me a lot of help and advice. I owe him, in other words, and I think you do too, lady, if your expensive flat, your pretty clothes and your sinecure at Harlow Bannerman are anything to go by, not to mention the unlimited expense account you and your brother have been running.’

‘You have been busy,’ Lisle commented, a bright spot of colour in each cheek.

The grey eyes hardened with contempt. ‘It’s time someone was, sweetheart, otherwise your private gravy train could come off the rails for good. Your grandfather has decided I’m the right man for the job, and my appointment as managing director will be confirmed by the board early next week.’

‘Not if Gerard and I have anything to do with it,’ she said furiously.

‘Gerard will find himself isolated,’ he said curtly. ‘Perhaps you’ve forgotten that your voting shares in the company are under your grandfather’s control until you’re twenty-five, and he’s already signed a proxy supporting my appointment.’ He paused, then added with heavy emphasis, ‘And he’s selling me his own block of shares, so I won’t just be running the company, trying to get it back on its feet again, I’ll be controlling it too.’

Lisle drew a deep uneven breath. ‘You—you took advantage of a sick old man. …’

He gave a derisive laugh. ‘You’d better not let Murray hear you say that. He was in top form when he made our deal, and if you don’t believe me ask Oliver Grayson.’

‘That—Judas?’

He shrugged. ‘On the contrary, I found him a good man. I think we’re going to work well together.’

Lisle gripped the edge of the table, fighting for self-control. ‘I don’t believe a word of this. Grandfather would never sell his shares to you. He’s always been adamant that they should remain in the family.’

And as far as he’s concerned, they will,’ he said calmly. ‘But through his granddaughter and her husband, rather than his grandson as he’d intended. Gerard’s unfailing record of unreliability and self-interest has caught up with him at last, I’m afraid. He knew that I was moving in, and he could have stayed and fought for his place in the sun. But no. As soon as he thought the danger was averted, he just cleared out, and that kind of failure in judgment can be fatal when you’re trying to run a company in times like these.’

Lisle sat as if she had been turned to stone.

‘Of course,’ Jake went on, ‘you might have been able to warn him, if you’d shown your face in the office for the past ten days, but your attendance record is one of the poorest I’ve seen. Your department head is loyal to the Bannerman name. He said you were working on a promotion for the Salzburg Fair at home, but he didn’t speak with any real conviction. I suppose the poor guy has never dared tell you that real public relations work isn’t merely acting as some kind of high class call-girl at your brother’s behest.’

She said hoarsely, ‘You—bastard! How dare you. …’

‘I dare more than that,’ he said flatly. ‘I might not even complain if it had all paid off—if the intimate dinners for potential customers, the drunken thrashes at your flat, the weekends on the boat had produced a full order book. But even you must know that’s not the case. And yet you’ve a lovely face, and an enticing body, so what went wrong? Perhaps your heart wasn’t in your work.’

Lisle felt sick with rage and shame. That he, or anyone else, could think such things made her feel utterly degraded, even though there was no reason for it. She’d never been overwhelmed with enthusiasm for acting as Gerard’s hostess, but she played the role he had chosen for her to the best of her ability, learning to recognise the gleam in the eye which suggested that one of the guests might be getting the wrong idea, and distance herself with charm yet finality, because it was Harlow Bannerman she was selling, and not, under any circumstances, herself.

Yes, she had allowed Gerard to use the flat for parties, but then as Harlow Bannerman were subsidising the rent, she had felt she could hardly refuse. But she had attended few of them herself, usually spending the night with friends. And since Janie had moved in with her, she had been able to use that as an excuse for Gerard to go elsewhere, because there had been disturbing indications that some of the entertainments he gave were by no means as conventional or innocent as he claimed.

Gerard had often laughed at her, complaining that she was a prude, and perhaps she was. Uneasily she recalled again the slapped face incident, and his subsequent fury, and there had been other occasions when his attitude had switched from amusement to exasperation, when he had exerted none too subtle pressure on her to ‘relax’, to be ‘nicer’ to certain clients. At times they had come close to quarrelling about it, but not seriously, because she couldn’t believe that he meant it seriously.

But now suddenly she was no longer so sure. The fact that her own motives and behaviour had been so totally misunderstood was making her question Gerard’s for the first time, and shed a new and disturbing light on his half grumbling, half amused accusations of prudishness.

She swallowed, steadying her hurried breathing. ‘You have no right to say these things to me! What do you imagine my grandfather would think if he could hear you?’

‘Murray hasn’t been living in a vacuum for the past year or two,’ he said. ‘I don’t think he suffers from many illusions, even about you. Love isn’t always blind, you know. He probably wants to get you married off before some real disaster occurs. And as our paths hadn’t crossed, I expect he hoped I wouldn’t have heard of the reputation you were so busily garnering for yourself.’

Reputation, Lisle thought. If it wasn’t so appalling, it would be almost funny. Because Gerard’s accusations weren’t so far from the truth. She couldn’t explain it. It might be some kind of mental revulsion against her brother’s inveterate womanising, it might be that she had never met a man who appealed to her sufficiently, or even because of some basic unsuspected flaw deep within her personality, but she was still, at twenty-three, a virgin.

The coffee was cold now, and bitter, but even so she doubted if she could have lifted the cup without betraying how she was shaking. Jake was watching her closely—waiting for a confession, or some attempt at self-justification, she wondered furiously. Well, he’d wait for ever! she told herself, avoiding his intent gaze.

He said coolly, ‘It’s time we were going up to the ward. Sister was noncommittal but not particularly optimistic when I spoke to her, but he’s conscious, and when he sees us together there’ll be just one thing on his mind. Can I take it as read that you won’t contradict me if I tell him we’ve just become engaged?’

She moistened dry lips. ‘Will he believe it—as we’ve only just met?’

He shrugged one shoulder. ‘If we were trying to convince him it was a love match, probably not. But as all three of us know the score, I think it will be a great relief to him that we’re not wasting any time.’

‘That’s putting it mildly.’ Lisle threaded the strap of her bag through her fingers. She managed an unsteady laugh. ‘Just what am I being rushed into?’

‘Well, certainly not marriage,’ he drawled. ‘I have no plans in that direction, and if I had they wouldn’t include you, my dear Miss Bannerman. This is a pretence engagement, the sole purpose of which is to put your grandfather’s mind at rest and reassure him about your future when he’s no longer here to worry about you. So don’t indulge in any fantasies that I’ve been swept away by your undoubted charms.’ He stood up, and once again she was made unwillingly aware of his height, and the sheer domination of his personality. She had met a lot of successful men, but few of them had an iota of his undoubted physical attraction, and most of them by his age—mid-thirties, she judged— were already married and settled with families.

She walked silently beside him towards the lift, and still in silence rode up to the next floor where the intensive care unit was established.

It was like something out of a space odyssey, she thought uneasily, looking around her.

Sister in her sexless white gown was briskly reassuring. ‘He’s doing as well as can be expected, that’s all I can say,’ she told them in her office. She gave a rich chuckle. ‘He’s certainly a bonny fighter, but he’s been getting himself dangerously over-excited. He’s been giving my young nurses hell because they wouldn’t bring him a telephone trolley—the very idea! I had to speak severely to him,’ she added tranquilly.

Lisle managed a wavering smile in return. She was sitting in a chair facing Sister’s desk, and Jake was perched on the arm of it. She was acutely conscious of the warmth of his body near hers, and it had been all she could do not to draw away when he sat down so close to her.

Jake said calmly, ‘I hope the good news we have for him won’t have an adverse effect.’

‘Anything that will stop him worrying so much can only do good.’ Sister paused. ‘Am I to take it that congratulations are in order?’

With a shock, Lisle felt Jake’s hand cover hers, then lift it to his lips. It was only the briefest caress, but her flesh felt as if it had been seared with a brand.

‘You’ve guessed our secret, Sister,’ Jake said softly. He looked down into Lisle’s startled face, his lips smiling tenderly, but his grey eyes brilliant with mockery. ‘As we’re making no announcement yet, darling, we’re going to have to try and hide our feelings for each other, at least in public.’

Through frozen lips, she managed, ‘Yes.’

He bent towards her, and for one paralysed moment she thought he was going to kiss her on the mouth, and every nerve in her body reacted in tension. His touch on her hand had been ordeal enough, but to feel his lips on hers, caressing, exploring, parting, would be unendurable.

And he knew that quite well. Still holding her panic-stricken gaze with his, he drew back, his smile hardening sardonically. ‘Shall we go and see Murray, my sweet?’

Sister bustled out and they were left to follow.

Lisle’s lips moved. ‘I don’t think I can go through with this.’

Jake rose. ‘Oh yes, you bloody well can.’ He took her arms, hauling her bodily out of her seat. ‘Everyone is capable of one selfless act, and this is going to be yours. Murray is going to rest with a tranquil mind tonight because he knows that what he cares most about in the world—Harlow Bannerman and you—are both in safe hands. So smile, darling. Pretend I’m an important customer or that poor devil who was pawing you when I arrived at the flat.’

She said dazedly, ‘Who. …?’ and saw the contempt flare again in his face.

He said half under his breath, ‘No, I suppose you can’t even remember his name. God help any guy who falls hard for you, you little bitch. Now look happy, and remember it’s not for me, it’s for Murray.’

But she was hard put to it to retain any semblance of cheerfulness when she stood by her grandfather’s bed. She had never really understood what people meant when they talked about shadows of their former selves, but she knew now, because what seemed to be lying there was just a shadow of the man she loved. She sank her teeth into the softness of her inner lip as Murray Bannerman muttered something and opened his eyes. They had always been fiercely, intensely blue, but now that fire seemed muted, and his voice no more than a gruff whisper.

‘Darling girl—so you came. And Jake. That’s good. Good.’

She was amazed to hear how normal her voice sounded. ‘Of course we’re here. Don’t try to talk. Everything’s going to be fine.’

‘Fine,’ he repeated, and the faded eyes sought hers in a kind of entreaty. ‘You and Jake.’

‘Yes,’ she said, her tone firming. ‘He—he spoke to me about it, and although it was—rather a shock, I can see it would be best—for the company and for everyone, so I’ve agreed. I will marry him.’

The moment she’d spoken, she wished she hadn’t used those particular words. At this moment, and in the presence of a man who could be dying, they savoured too closely of some kind of oath, the precursor to some future ritual where she and Jake would be made one, and she shivered suddenly.

Jake said, ‘I’m going to take her away now, Murray, take her home, and let you get some rest. But we’ll be back in the morning. Sleep well.’

Lisle felt the pressure of his hand on her arm, and turned away, fighting sudden blinding tears. He looked so frail, she thought in agony. What guarantee was there that he would see another morning, or know that they would return to share it with him?