Living With The Enemy. Laura Martin
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He thrust the car into gear and manoeuvred it out of the space. ‘Be patient. You’ll see.’
They travelled in silence for a long while. After an hour, the scenery changed to lush green trees and dusty tracks, to whitewashed houses nestling in valleys and clinging precariously to hillsides, and her heavy heart began to lift a little.
‘Oh, it’s so...so different!’ she exclaimed, looking about her.
‘There’s still quite a way to go,’ Alex informed her, refraining from the obvious comment of ‘I told you so’. ‘Do you want to stop for a while and stretch your legs? I have some cool drinks in the back.’
Lucy nodded. She had been feeling dreadfully thirsty for the last few miles and her legs felt old and unused. ‘Yes,’ she replied, grateful for the thoughtfulness of her companion. ‘That would be nice.’
He clearly knew the area well. Alex drove the car to a quiet spot shaded from the afternoon sun by the branches of cooling trees. It was a wonderful relief to be able to get out and stretch and walk and just enjoy the fresh, clear air.
He handed her a drink from a cool-box in the boot and Lucy raised the cold bottle of cola to her mouth and drank thirstily.
‘Tastes good?’
She lowered the bottle from her lips. ‘Like nectar,’ she replied shyly.
‘You’ll find that Majorca sharpens all your senses: sight, smell, taste... Take a deep breath,’ he instructed. ‘Wonderful, isn’t it? So clear and fresh; sweet and sharp all at the same time.’
‘And warm.’ Lucy, conscious of Alex Darcy’s gaze, turned to look at the view. The valley stretched endlessly ahead of them, with green terraces that glinted in the sun. In the distance the sea shimmered invitingly.
When Charles had first mentioned that she should go to Majorca to rest and recuperate Lucy had been aghast. He had talked her into it, as he always did, though, and now she could understand why. It was a magnificent part of the world.
Just a shame that this man ... this stranger was part of the package. She would have much preferred to stay here alone. But Charles had been adamant about that...
‘I need to know there’s someone around—someone I can trust to look after you,’ he had insisted firmly. ‘Alex has certain...’ he had hesitated a moment and then said ‘... qualities. Qualities that I feel I can rely on. I know you’re well on the road to recovery, but—’
‘You think it’s fine for me to spend time in a house miles from anywhere, alone with a man I’ve never met before?’ Lucy had asked from her wicker chair in the hospital garden. She’d shaken her head in disbelief. ‘I’m really surprised that you should even make this suggestion!’
‘Look, Alex is a good man. Anyway, he’s a workaholic!’ Charles told her reassuringly. ‘His writing is his life now. Honestly, he’ll be sat in his study for hours on end, so you’ll get all the peace and quiet you want. He’ll be around—that’s the main thing. I don’t want you to feel abandoned. Alex has promised me he’s perfectly happy for you to stay for a few days, just until I get this last-minute hitch sorted out. He’ll understand.’ He paused a moment. ‘He might even be able to help you.’
‘I doubt that!’ Lucy threw the rug from her knees and stood up. ‘And anyway, why should he want to? Not that I need help,’ she amended swiftly. ‘I feel fine. I don’t want to stay with some man I’ve never met before. He could be ... well, you know.’
Charles frowned and looked perplexed. ‘Could be what? What do you mean?’
Lucy exhaled. ‘Oh, Charles, you’re so worldly in some ways and so totally naïve in others! I’ll be alone, out in the middle of nowhere, with a man I’ve never met before—’
‘Good gracious, Lucy! You really are clutching at straws!’ Charles laughed. ‘Is that the best reason you can give for not going?’
I’m nervous, Lucy wanted to say. I’m feeling fragile and I won’t know him.
‘Look, believe me,’ Charles continued, ‘you have nothing to worry about. Alex is a normal, red-blooded male who on occasion enjoys the company of women, but he’s intelligent and humorous and totally absorbed in his work. Anyway,’ he added tactlessly, ‘they’re never your type.’
‘Who aren’t?’ She gazed down at her step-brother, puzzlement clouding her features. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Alex’s women,’ Charles replied. ‘I’m just trying to put your mind at rest; he doesn’t go for your...’ He saw Lucy’s expression and his voice trailed away.
‘And what exactly is my type?’ she enquired, eyebrows raised.
‘Oh, you know...’ Charles waved a negligent hand.
‘No, actually I don’t!’ she replied sharply. ‘I’ve never met the man before, or had you forgotten?’
‘Alex goes for glamour with a capital G. His women are usually six feet tall with hair the colour of corn,’ he added wistfully.
‘And as I’m a short five feet five inches, with a sprinkling of freckles and long, wavy red hair I’m safe—is that what you’re saying?’ Lucy shook her head. ‘You know, for a diplomat you have a pitiful amount of tact!’
Charles looked uncomfortable. ‘Now don’t get worked up about it,’ he added hastily. ‘You’re supposed to be keeping calm.’
‘I am calm, you idiot!’ she replied flatly. The edges of her mouth curved a little. ‘I’m just disappointed that you won’t be around. I see little enough of you as it is.’
Poor Charles, Lucy thought now, and wiped her moist forehead with the back of her hand. She loved him dearly, though. He was the best stepbrother in the world. The only relation close enough to matter. But she did, on occasions, give him a hard time. She heaved a steadying sigh. She wished he were here...
Her head was beginning to hurt. What was the last thing the doctor had said to her on her discharge from the hospital? What had Charles said to her at Gatwick when he had kissed her goodbye? ‘Relax. Take it easy.’
‘Are you feeling OK?’
Lucy looked up to find Alex close beside her. She took a step away, saw him frown and replied hastily, ‘Yes...yes, I’m fine!’
‘You don’t look it.’
‘I’m fine!’ There it was again—that sharp, high-pitched tone that revealed her uncertainties and worries so effectively.
‘You know, Charles really only has your best interests at heart. It will do you good to stay here a while.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Lucy raised her brows enquiringly. ‘And you would know, would you?’ She saw the firming of his mouth, wondered despondently what on earth was making her so disagreeable.
‘I think so, yes.’ His voice was crisp and well defined.
Lucy focused on the view. ‘I didn’t ask to come here. If I had had my way I would have gone straight home from the...the...’
‘Hospital? You can say the word, you know,’ Alex drawled. ‘It won’t bite.’
‘I’d...I’d prefer to put all that behind me,’ she replied stiffly, glancing across at him. ‘If you don’t mind.’
‘Not at all.’ The rich dark eyes held her gaze. ‘You know, Lucy, there’s no need to feel awkward about anything, or uptight. You’re supposed to look upon your stay here as a holiday,’ he continued with infuriating ease, ‘not as some sort of incarceration.’
‘I didn’t want to come!’ she said stonily. She glanced down and saw that her linen trousers looked grubby and crumpled. She smoothed the fabric against her legs with shaking fingers, conscious that the humiliation of tears wasn’t