Living With The Enemy

‘But your experience hasn’t been very good, has it?’ Alex remarked quietly.

She stared hard at the swimming pool. ‘So you do know more than the basic details!’ she accused him. ‘What exactly has Charles been saying?’

‘I told you,’ he replied. ‘I know about your husband’s death. Nothing more. I didn’t ask for details.’

‘But he gave them to you all the same!’ Lucy shook her head angrily. ‘Damn Charles!’ she murmured quietly. ‘He always was a terrible gossip.’

‘He cares about you. Surely you know that?’

‘Yes.’ She pressed her trembling lips together. ‘Yes, I know.’

‘You look exhausted,’ Alex said quietly. ‘You need to rest’

‘Don’t treat me like a child!’ She spun away from the caring voice and concerned eyes and erected a wall of hostility to hide behind. ‘I’ve been married. I’ve been widowed. I’m a grown woman, for heaven’s sake!’

‘At the present moment you barely look fifteen,’ Alex commented, seemingly unaffected by her sharp outburst ‘If I ask exactly how old you are, will I get my head bitten off again?’

‘Most probably!’ Lucy kept her gaze fixed on the valley. ‘I’m surprised Charles hasn’t told you that already. Twenty,’ she added, after a few seconds had passed. She glanced across at the far too attractive face and asked pointedly, ‘How old are you?’

‘A lot older.’

‘And wiser no doubt!’

‘In some fields, yes.’

‘Not all? My, my, you do surprise me! Such modesty.’

She was being a pain again—unnecessarily irritable, just because she was feeling unsure of herself. Just because standing in the same room as this man made her feel weirdly unsettled, excited, confused and totally mixed up.

‘I’ve never been married,’ he replied, with brutal smoothness. ‘You have the lead on me there.’

‘Or widowed?’ Lucy’s expression was hard. She’d show him.

‘No.’

‘I disappointed him,’ she murmured, fixing her gaze on the view from the window.

‘Who? Your husband?’

Lucy’s smile was twisted with irony. She shook her head and worked hard at blotting out Paul’s deceptively mild countenance. ‘No, not my husband. I mean Charles.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘My behaviour over the last few years...it’s not been the best I was a difficult teenager and then, of course...’ there was a telling pause ‘...I got married. That only reinforced his belief that I was incapable of running my own life in a satisfactory manner. Charles had hoped for great things...’

‘And you? Did you hope for great things?’

His question surprised her. She looked across at him and frowned. ‘Maybe, at one time...’ Lucy thought back to her days at drama school. She had been keen and ambitious then. She nodded, almost reluctantly. ‘Yes, I did.’

He looked at her in silence for what seemed like an age, his eyes somehow mesmerising her so that she didn’t have the strength to look away. His expression—cool, impassive, almost distant—gave no clues as to what he was thinking. It was unnerving and Lucy didn’t know how to handle it.

‘You’re young,’ he asserted firmly. ‘You’ve got a future. ’

‘You think so?’ Alex Darcy had a disconcerting way with him, Lucy decided. He wasn’t overly sympathetic, he wasn’t particularly friendly, yet she suddenly had an overwhelming need to unburden herself, to tell him things that she had spoken about with no one else. ‘At times...’ She swallowed, fixing her gaze on the sunlit greenery of the terraces. ‘At times,’ she repeated slowly, ‘I feel ancient inside, like an old, old woman.’

There was a silence. It lengthened to embarrassing proportions. Oh, goodness! Lucy thought wearily. What did I have to tell him that for? If he says something kind now, she told herself, I’ll cry; I know I will.

Maybe he read her mind, for there was no trace of compassion or sympathy in his tone when he next spoke. ‘We all feel old on occasions,’ he replied crisply. ‘Life has a habit of wearing even the most resilient down—weakening the strongest.’

‘Not you.’

‘Why not me?’ Alex shook his head, dark eyes smouldering like hot coals in his face. ‘You’d be surprised.’

‘Would I?’ Lucy frowned. ‘Tell me, then,’ she added firmly. ‘When have you not been able to cope?’

‘Plenty of times.’ His voice was terse, his reply abrupt. It was clear that he wasn’t interested in elaborating. ‘Take a shower,’ he added smoothly. ‘There’s a bathroom through that door there.’ He crossed the room and opened the door, turning to look back at Lucy, who was still standing before the window, wondering about him. ‘Then I think it would be a good idea if you got some sleep. I’ll wake you when it’s time for dinner.’

‘I’m not feeling particularly hungry,’ she murmured.

‘Dinner.’ Alex repeated firmly. ‘See you later.’

Late afternoon had merged with evening. Lucy sat up on the large four-poster bed and hugged the towelling robe that she had slipped on after her shower around her body. Her sleep had been deep and surprisingly refreshing and she felt a whole lot better. Not exactly a new person, but a vastly improved one.

It was so peaceful. She gazed across at the window and took a deep breath. The stillness was quite beautiful after the hustle and bustle of the airport and the warmth of the car journey.

She wondered what the time was. Early or late? She couldn’t judge by the light in these new surroundings—not yet, anyway.

After a few moments of just lounging on the bed enjoying the peace, she swung her legs to the floor and strolled to the open window, breathing in the sweet, warm air which smelt of citrus fruits and roses. To call this place your own must be a wonderful thing, she thought. Absolutely magical.

The bedsit that she had shared with Paul during their short marriage came into her mind. She had done her best, but there was no denying that it had been a dump. Maybe if she had accepted Charles’s offer of the down payment on a flat as a wedding present things would have worked out, but Lucy had refused and they hadn’t. Stubbornness had always been her weak point. Paul had been keen, though—too keen; she should have noticed that. Maybe it would have given her a clue as to what he was really like. Maybe he had always wanted something for nothing...

The silence seemed endless. Too easy to think here, with all this quiet, and thinking was something that she had promised herself she would not do.

Lucy turned away from the window. Where was Alex? Hadn’t he said he’d wake her in time for dinner? She listened. The house was quiet. No movement, no rattle of dishes from the kitchen below. Too quiet, maybe?

She walked to the bedroom door and opened it. The thought struck her that she might be alone, and a sudden, unexplained rush of anxiety flooded through her.

‘Alex!’ Her voice sounded thin and unnatural, echoing against the whitewashed walls. She tried again, her heart sinking when there was no response.

Perhaps something dreadful had happened. Once upon a time she had been like everyone else, imagining that nothing bad would ever touch her. Then she had married Paul and she had seen the stupidity of such naive assumptions.

Lucy heaved a steadying breath. She was being silly and she knew it. Calm down! she told herself. Go and find your reluctant host; he’ll be here somewhere.

She started off at a steady pace, walking briskly but calmly along the passageway, hugging her robe around her as she descended the stairs.

The kitchen was empty. The clock on the wall told her that it was almost nine o’clock, and there was no sign of dinner. No sign of anything or anyone.

‘Alex!’ Her voice was stronger now, but the response was still the same. Silence.

She ran outside. The heat had subsided and it was a beautiful evening. Orange trees glowed in the dusk, laden with ripe, juicy fruit. Lucy brushed by them unseeing, scanning the terraces, hurrying down the steps to the pool, discovering around a corner a walled vegetable garden that was as beautiful and as deserted as the rest of the place.

Stirrings of panic were starting to take a real hold. Desertion, mugging, death—every possibility ran through her mind. Where was Alex Darcy? How could he do this to her?

She ran back towards the house. Her feet were bare and she cried out in pain as she stepped on a sharp stone and fell forward, sprawling on the sitting area close to the house, where bright geraniums grew in terracotta pots and orange trees shaded the terrace.

‘What on earth are you doing?’

She saw his feet first, clad in well-worn loafers; then Alex crouched down and she saw more of him: his legs, tanned and muscular, dusted with a covering of curly black hair; his strong hands resting on his knees; well-worn navy shorts; his broad chest straining against the cotton material of his polo shirt.

‘I...I thought you’d gone,’ Lucy murmured unsteadily, cursing her foolishness. She scrambled to her feet.

‘Gone?’ He helped her up, putting one hand around her waist, the other under her arm for support. ‘Where would I have gone?’

She swallowed, suddenly breathless. She wasn’t sure if it was due to the physical exertions of her search, or relief, or because Alex Darcy was close, holding her with an ease and familiarity that was disturbing and exhilarating all at the same time. She glanced swiftly up into his face, met the stunning eyes and handsome, angular features and looked away again. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘But the house was so quiet, and when I saw the time...’ She shook her head, feeling inadequate under the dark, piercing gaze. ‘I thought you’d be in the kitchen, getting dinner,’ she mumbled. ‘But there was no one there.’

‘Is it that late?’

‘Nine o‘clock.’ Lucy looked briefly across to where the sun, blazing like an orange ball, was slipping steadily below the horizon. ‘I slept for five hours.’

‘Sorry. I tend to forget the time. Whole days slip by without me being aware of it.’ The attractive mouth curled. ‘It’s OK; I’m not a closet alcoholic,’ he added with a smile. ‘I’ve been locked away in my study working. Are you very hungry?’

‘Yes,’ Lucy admitted quietly. He was still holding her. She could feel the strength of his touch through the thick fabric of her robe—demanding, powerful fingers that showed he thought nothing of holding her, nothing of the effect that such a touch could have. ‘But it’s all right; I can get something for myself,’ she added stiltedly. ‘If...if you want to carry on with whatever you were doing. Charles did warn me that you were a workaholic.’

‘Did he indeed?’ Dark eyes slid over her face in amusement, sparkling momentarily. Lucy felt her stomach give a little jolt of excitement. ‘No, don’t worry, I’ve had enough for tonight.’ Casually Alex released his hold. ‘I should stop. Besides, it wouldn’t be very hospitable to ask you to eat alone on your first evening here, would it?’

‘I wouldn’t mind,’ she assured him quickly, anxious to make amends for her juvenile behaviour. ‘Now I know that you’re ... that I’m not alone,’ she amended swiftly.

‘You thought something might have happened to me? Is that why you looked so panic-stricken?’ Alex queried. ‘How...’ he hesitated, searching for the right word ‘...sweet. I glanced out of my study window and saw you running hell for leather across the terrace—I had no idea such frantic activity was on my account.’

‘I called your name and you didn’t answer,’ Lucy retorted sharply, annoyed by his amusement. ‘Anything could have happened.’

‘Anything?’ The firm mouth curved a little more. ‘What had you in mind?’

‘Oh, I don’t know!’ She shook her head, irritated with herself for revealing another of her weaknesses. ‘I suffer from a vivid imagination, that’s all!’

‘Instant pictures, instant panic?’

Lucy nodded reluctantly. ‘Yes, that sort of thing. It can make things difficult at times.’ She swallowed and felt the lump in her throat.

‘It maybe contributed to your... illness?’

She hadn’t expected him to bring that up so openly. Emerald eyes flashed in defensive anger. ‘You mean my breakdown?’ she queried defiantly. ‘You can come right out and say the word, you know,’ she added fiercely. ‘It won’t bite!’

‘Yes.’ She saw a hint of steel in his eyes. ‘Your breakdown.’

‘I...I don’t want to talk about it!’ she flared angrily, aware of the contradiction. ‘I don’t even want to think about it!’

‘I wasn’t aware I had suggested you do either,’ Alex drawled with infuriating smoothness. ‘Although, of course, if you feel you want to talk—’

‘I won’t!’

‘You’re sure about that?’ Stunning eyes disrupted Lucy’s rigid expression. ‘I’m here. I’m willing to listen.’

‘No!’ Fear sharpened her voice. ‘Of course I don’t! You think I would want to dwell on my own failings? To talk about intimate, personal things with you?’

‘It crossed my mind. Unburdening yourself can be a great relief. No one can be strong all the time.’

‘What would you know about it?’ Lucy looked up at him scornfully. She was hiding behind anger again. She hadn’t meant the conversation to take this turn. She hadn’t expected him to be so open, so...forthright.

‘Forget dinner!’ she replied. ‘I’ll get myself a sandwich. You go back to your work.’

Strong, tormenting hands took hold of Lucy’s arm, preventing her from rushing past. ‘Don’t tell me what to do in my own home!’ It was said with absolute calm, but there was an unmistakable inflexion of steel m the deep voice.

Lucy looked up into the ruggedly attractive face and tried to calm the thudding of her pulse.

‘Perhaps now is the time to get one thing straight,’ Alex continued crisply. ‘I expect a degree of courtesy whilst you are a guest here. I realise you have had a rough time, but that doesn’t mean I will tolerate bad manners.’

Lucy’s green eyes widened in shock. She was about to reply, but he continued before she could even open her mouth.

‘You’ve been treated with kid gloves by Charles, by the staff at the hospital. That was understandable in the early days, but you cannot expect that sort of treatment indefinitely—’

‘I don’t!’ It was humiliating being spoken to like this. Lucy wished that the patio would open up and swallow her whole. ‘It’s just—’

‘I don’t want excuses, or even reasons,’ Alex continued with infuriating ease. ‘I’m just stating the way things should be from now on. I want you to have a pleasant stay here. I want our relationship to be civilised—’

‘Civilised!’

A dark brow rose in query. ‘You don’t like my choice of word, Lucy?’

‘I don’t think I like you!’ she snapped. ‘How dare you patronise me like this? Charles would be so angry if he knew you were speaking to me this way!’

‘Charles is not here.’

‘I wish he were! I want to leave!’

The attractive mouth curved, but the smile held little amusement. A slight narrowing of the deep, dark eyes showed disapproval. ‘Because I dare to question your behaviour? ’

‘This isn’t going to work,’ Lucy replied angrily. ‘I can’t stay here with you! It’s a ridiculous idea. I’m going to phone Charles, tell him he has to come and fetch me—’ She twisted sharply and found to her amazement that Alex wasn’t going to let her go.

‘Don’t flounce off like a child!’

She glared up at the handsome face. How could this be happening? A few minutes ago she had actually been concerned for this man’s welfare! ‘I’m not flouncing!’ She gulped a steadying breath. ‘Would you mind letting go of my arm?’ Her voice sounded crisp—so cold that frost was practically dripping off each syllable. Emerald-green eyes clashed with darkest jet, but his hand stayed where it was. ‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’ she asked angrily.

Alex looked at her. ‘I heard.’

She moistened her lips. The tension between them was almost tangible. Alex loomed above her, strong and tanned and full of power. She held herself rigid, waiting for the moment to subside. It didn’t. The tension became more powerful, subtly changing—an electrical tension that didn’t have its roots in anything so straightforward as dislike or hostility.

The strange, almost dangerous silence lengthened. Alex looked down at her. ‘You really are a mixed-up young woman, aren’t you?’ he murmured quietly.

‘Quite different from the usual females you encounter?’

Lucy put unmistakable emphasis on the last word. She had no idea why she said it—no idea at all. Liar! she told herself. Why can’t you admit that what Charles said about Alex Darcy has been on your mind from the first moment you laid eyes on him?

‘For “encounter” I should presumably read “meet in bed”,’ he replied smoothly. There was another tense silence. ‘Has Charles been talking?’ Alex drawled dangerously. ‘Maybe you’re right; maybe he is a terrible old gossip after all. I shall have to have a word with him about it.’

‘He was only trying to reassure me!’ Lucy answered swiftly, suddenly concerned for her stepbrother’s welfare; Alex was big and powerful, whereas Charles was a definite weed. ‘He wasn’t gossiping at all.’

Alex Darcy looked puzzled—as well he might, she thought miserably; she was getting everything into a terrible tangle.

‘Reassure you? What would he need to reassure you about?’

‘Oh...you know!’

‘Actually I don’t; that’s why I’m asking,’ Alex replied with deceptive mildness ‘Care to explain?’

‘Six-foot blondes, with hair the colour of corn!’ Lucy muttered.

‘What?’ He wasn’t angry; in fact he looked vaguely amused.

She tilted her chin and looked up at him. ‘Your regular type of encounter—your women.’

Dark eyes narrowed dangerously. Now he was angry. She had gone too far. Lucy felt a charge of panic.

‘Are you deliberately trying to provoke me?’

‘N-no.’

‘Charles has given you the impression I’m womanmad—’ Alex frowned in noticeable irritation ‘—is that it?’

‘No!’ Lucy put a hand to her head. ‘I don’t know!’ she added almost wildly. ‘I don’t care if you have hundreds of women. It’s none of my business, is it?’

‘No! Damned right, it’s not!’

‘Will you let go of my arm now?’ she asked shakily. ‘I’d...I’d like to go inside.’

‘To do what? Pack?’

‘To phone Charles, to ask him if he’ll come out and fetch me.’

‘You know he’s busy in Geneva. Besides, if you want to leave that badly you can always book a flight out of here yourself. You’re not a prisoner.’

‘I haven’t got enough money!’ Lucy murmured, conscious of the strong fingers still gripping the sleeve of her robe. ‘I’m sure Charles has told you that Paul squandered every penny I had earned and saved before he died!’

The coal-black eyes narrowed perceptively. ‘No, he didn’t.’

‘Oh...’ Lucy bent her head and looked at the ground. ‘Well...he did, and I refused the money Charles offered to tide me over until I can get a job.’

‘Why did you do that?’

‘Because I don’t like charity, that’s why!’ Lucy flashed. ‘Now if you don’t mind—’

‘What did you do?’

The change of tack disconcerted her for a moment. ‘You mean work?’ she quened. ‘Oh, nothing much. You wouldn’t be interested.’

‘How do you know? Try me.’

She stared down at the ground self-consciously. ‘I...I went to drama school for a while. Then I got work in an office. Nothing very spectacular. I’m not good at anything in particular.’

‘Don’t undersell yourself!’ It was another of what Lucy suspected would turn out to be a long line of rebukes.

She pursed her lips and took a deep breath, staring up into Alex Darcy’s face. ‘I’m not underselling myself,’ she replied frostily. ‘Just stating the obvious. Now would you mind letting go of my arm, please? I’d like to go inside to phone Charles.’

‘You are a stubborn young woman; you know that, I presume?’

There was a hint of exasperation in his tone. Lucy looked up into the angular face. ‘It’s been my downfall,’ she asserted quietly. ‘I realise that now.’

‘Well, if you can see that,’ Alex replied, without any signs of sympathy, ‘surely you’ll understand that flouncing out of here after only a few hours is not the most sensible thing to do?’

‘You don’t want me here,’ Lucy murmured. ‘That’s as plain as day. I don’t want to spend time where I’m not wanted.’

‘Now you’re feeling sorry for yourself!’ Alex replied crisply. ‘Always a big mistake.’

‘Like my stay here!’

The long, lean fingers shook Lucy’s arm a little; a mixture of impatience and irritation crossed the handsome face. ‘I can’t deny Charles’s request for help did come out of the blue,’ Alex responded sharply, ‘but I agreed to have you here and I stand by that arrangement.’

Her green eyes narrowed provokingly. ‘You’re regretting it, though, aren’t you?’

His sensuous lips compressed into a firm line and his fingers pulled her closer towards the large, broad frame. ‘Will you stop forcing the point, Lucy? You’re being totally impossible.’ He surveyed her with an irritated gaze. ‘I live a solitary life—always have, always will. I can’t deny that your presence here will take a bit of getting used to, but I’m perfectly capable of being sociable if you’ll act in an appropriate manner.’

She frowned up at him. ‘And what do you mean by that?’

‘If you’ll stop acting like a petulant child!’

‘Maybe I want to act like a petulant child; maybe I always have!’ She didn’t care what he thought of her. She didn’t! For the past few weeks she hadn’t cared about anything much at all. Lucy tried to shake his hand free, but his grip was firm and uncompromising, matching his expression. ‘Will you let go of me?’ she gritted.

‘No.’

She had an overwhelming desire to stamp her bare feet on the dusty ground, to pull and tug herself free and run off sobbing. ‘I want you to!’ she told him wildly.

‘No, you don’t.’ His voice was calm and controlled. ‘Tell me something.’

‘What?’ Lucy tilted her chin and eyed Alex warily. He looked so handsome, so completely male—cool and totally in command.

‘When was the last time you here held?’

Her heart skipped a beat. ‘I...I don’t know.’ She shook her head, hardly daring to meet his gaze, repeating the word as if she hardly knew its meaning. ‘Held?’

‘Yesterday?’ Alex persisted. ‘A week ago, a month?’

Lucy stared up at the smouldering eyes and felt every nerve-end tingling as a new, quite daunting prospect loomed into view. ‘I...I can’t remember,’ she murmured evasively.

‘I shouldn’t imagine Charles is particularly good at hugging, is he?’ Alex continued smoothly. ‘And there’s no one else now, is there?’ He released a breath and the firm line of his mouth softened a little as he looked at Lucy. ‘You lose someone—someone close—and everyone backs off. They don’t mean to, but grief is difficult to deal with. Even the simplest phrases of condolence sound clichéd or banal, don’t they?’

‘Yes.’ She contemplated the strong, rugged planes of his face and nodded slowly, remembering, marvelling at the fact that he actually understood how it had been. ‘Yes, they do.’

‘Your friends probably did their best, but it’s not always good enough, is it?’

Lucy released a tense breath. She was inches away from him, and the proximity of such blatant animal magnetism coupled with this sudden unexpected sensitivity was not helping her to stay aloof and unmoved.

‘I...I haven’t many friends. Not any more. Paul...’ She faltered, gulping a swift breath. ‘He...he didn’t get on with them,’ she finished reluctantly.

‘He could be a difficult man?’

Strain clenched her features; her throat ached with unshed tears. Never speak ill of the dead. It wasn’t right to criticise Paul now, especially not with a stranger. ‘He was my husband,’ she murmured unsteadily.

‘And you loved him.’ It was said as if that fact were a forgone conclusion.

Lucy didn’t bother to contradict him. It was what everyone thought, she knew that. After all, they had only been married a couple of months and she had gneved so after his death. Grieved for all the wrong reasons ... but grieved nonetheless.

‘I’m sorry if I was harsh earlier,’ Alex murmured. ‘I apologise.’