Season of Shadows (22 page)

'Money and sex!' she spat out the words in disgust. 'Is
that
all
you can think of?'

His hand shot out and grasped her wrist, jerking her up
against him so that the full fury of his eyes burned down into hers.
'If I find out that you've been seeing that man again, Laura, then I
won't be held responsible for my actions.'

'You can't choose my friends for me,' she argued, ignoring
the danger signals which flashed persistently through her brain.

Anton's mouth thinned into an ominous line. 'I will not
have people suggesting that my wife has a lover tucked away behind my
back!'

'What are you afraid of, Anton? That they may suspect
you're impotent?' The words were out before she could prevent them, and
when she saw his harsh features darken with the most terrible fury, she
knew she had gone too far. 'I'm sorry, Anton,' she said shakily.
'I—I shouldn't have said that.'

'No, you shouldn't have,' he ground out the words through
a tightly clenched jaw, 'but now you're going to pay for it!'

There was one sure way that he could punish her, and when
the rasping sound of her zip reached her ears she knew exactly what he
intended doing to her.

'Anton, I beg of you—
don't
!'
she cried hoarsely, but her pleas were futile, and so were her efforts
to fight him off while he divested her of her clothes.

Blinded by tears and a stabbing pain at her temples, she
was too exhausted to deter him eventually when he carried her across to
the bed and dropped her unceremoniously on to it.

'Let's see who's impotent, shall we?' his voice sliced
through her, then he flung himself down beside her, and her lips were
crushed into submission beneath that cruel, hard mouth.

In his anger Anton showed her no mercy. Not even when his
passion had been aroused did he relent, and she was forced to endure
his violence until he lay physically spent beside her.

Laura felt bruised and beaten, but, more than that, she
felt humiliated and degraded. There was the taste of gall in her mouth,
and an aching despair in her heart while she watched him get up and
dress himself. What kind of man was he? she wondered, barely able to
conceal the pain in her eyes when he turned to face her. Did he possess
no soul, no heart that she could have reached with her own?

His face was an impenetrable mask as he stood looking down
at her; a mask carved out of granite the same as his heart, she thought
as she searched futilely for the slightest sign of humanity.

'Contrary
to what you may think,' he said thickly, his voice shattering the
turbulent silence as if he had probed her mind, 'I don't enjoy taking a
woman by force, or in anger. To say that I was driven to it is no
excuse either. I despise men who lack such obvious control, and if it
gives you any satisfaction, then you may as well know that I despise
myself more than you ever could at this moment.'

Laura drew a shuddering, faintly incredulous breath, and
called out his name, but he had picked up his discarded jacket, and was
gone before she could say anything further.

She had never heard him speak like that before, and it
troubled her, but as the days passed and lengthened into a week, she
found herself unable to penetrate the barrier of cold indifference
which he erected between them whenever they met, and through it all
there was the agony of expecting to be told at any moment that he
wanted to end their marriage.

One evening, at the dinner table, Sally ventured to ask if
they had quarrelled with each other, only to be told sharply by Anton
to mind her own business. Afterwards, Sally had lapsed into a brooding
silence which merely added to Laura's problems. Children were quick to
sense an atmosphere in the home, and Sally, more than anyone else,
needed to be protected from it. Laura shuddered at the thought of how
Sally would react to the news that the two people she loved most were
separating.

'Sally will just have to learn to adapt herself to
circumstances,' Gina stated firmly when Laura confided in her the
following morning. 'I never thought Anton would allow Camilla to get
her claws into him again,' Gina added distastefully, 'and it just goes
to show that even the cleverest men are not above behaving like fools
where a woman like that is concerned.'

'Gina… about that evening when you came to
dinner…' Laura began, but Gina gestured her to silence.

'Forget it, my dear,' she smiled, then her glance became
thoughtful. 'Have you seen the morning papers?'

'No,' Laura shook her head warily. 'Anton must have taken
them to the office with him.'

'Avron Enterprises has been sold,' Gina supplied the
information which shook Laura's foundations considerably. 'The name of
the buyer is being withheld until all the necessary papers have been
drawn up.'

Laura was not certain how this would affect her, but she
felt dismally sure that she would not have long to wait to find out.

That same evening after dinner, Anton surprised Laura by
following her into the living-room, but he sat reading his newspaper in
stony silence in front of the log fire while she tried desperately to
concentrate .on a magazine. Outside it continued to rain steadily, as
it had done since early that afternoon, and the cold dampness of that
winter night made her draw closer to the fire.

'How much longer?' she wondered distractedly. 'How much
longer do I have to wait for Anton to tell me of his intention to marry
Camilla?'

The doorbell chimed unexpectedly, interrupting her
thoughts, and moments later Eddie appeared in the living-room door. 'A
Mr Muir to see you, Mr Anton.'

Laura looked up with a start and glanced in swift fear at
her husband, but his face remained expressionless as he said: 'Send him
in.'

Eddie disappeared, and seconds later Alex entered the
living-room carrying a large, carefully wrapped package in his hands.

'Good evening,' he smiled with a cheerfulness Laura wished
she could match as she and Anton rose to their feet simultaneously.

'To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?' Anton
asked with thinly veiled sarcasm, but Alex remained unconcerned.

'I need your permission to exhibit this portrait of Laura
at the National Art Gallery tomorrow,' he explained, gesturing to the
large object in his hands.

There was a brief, tense silence before Anton said
abruptly, 'I shall have to see it first.'

'Certainly,' Alex agreed, placing the portrait on a low
table against the wall and removing the canvas wrapping with great
tare. 'Behold!' he said at last with a certain amount of drama as he
removed the final covering. 'You're witnessing the unveiling of a
masterpiece.'

Laura drew an audible breath as she found herself staring
at the portrait of herself seated on the rocks at Gordon's Bay with her
honey-brown hair blowing free behind her. It was a magnificent work of
art, she realised at once, but she stared at her image as if she were
seeing herself for the first time; a serene stranger with a tender yet
faintly provocative smile hovering about the soft curve of her mouth.
The most striking part, however, was the deep blue eyes. Heavily
fringed with dark lashes, they looked out across the turbulent sea with
a mysterious mixture of sadness and longing, and quite suddenly Laura
could not bear to look at it for a moment longer. It felt as if her
soul had been stripped bare to be placed there on canvas for the world
to see. It was shattering—terrifying—and she dared
not imagine what Anton must be thinking.

'What do you think, Mr DeVere?' Alex unsuspectingly echoed
her thoughts, and she glanced fearfully at Anton, but she saw only his
austere profile, and that angry nerve pulsing in his cheek. 'Do I have
your permission to exhibit this portrait of your wife?' Alex asked.

Anton's unfathomable glance captured Laura's for several
breathtaking seconds before he turned to Alex and said roughly, 'It
would be an injustice not to exhibit it.'

'I knew you'd feel that way,' Alex smiled with
satisfaction, glancing at Laura, who had not spoken since his arrival.
'You haven't given your opinion, Laura.'

'Alex, I—I don't know what to say,' she began
lamely.

'It's magnificent, but—' She saw him raise his
eyebrows questioningly and added almost accusingly, 'You made me look
beautiful.'

'No,' Alex shook his head. 'I painted you the way God
created you. It's the true image no mirror will ever produce for you,
for no one is ever capable of seeing themselves as they really are.'

'How much do you want for the portrait?'

Laura sucked her breath in sharply and stared
incredulously at Anton as Alex said quite distinctly, 'It's not for
sale, Mr DeVere.'

'You're throwing away a fortune,' Anton accused angrily.
'I'm insisting that you name your price, and whatever it is, I'll pay
it.'

Was she hearing correctly? Laura wondered confusedly. Was
Anton actually offering to buy that portrait of herself?

'This portrait is not mine to sell, Mr DeVere,' Alex
insisted calmly, and Laura glanced sharply at the tall, lanky artist.
She had the most alarming suspicion that she was about to be exposed,
and she tried frantically to catch Alex's eye, but he kept his glance
resolutely fixed on Anton. 'This portrait is my gift to Laura,' he
continued, 'and she will eventually give it to the man she loves.'

Laura wished suddenly that the floor would open up beneath
her, but nothing of the sort happened, and she stood there, petrified,
and terrifyingly aware of the dark fury on every line of Anton's face.

'I presume you're referring to yourself when you speak of
the man she loves?' Anton demanded harshly, and Laura shrank inwardly
from this nightmare situation.

Was Alex trying to destroy her? He knew she loved Anton.
Did he intend to make her suffer the most painful humiliation of all by
divulging the secret she had entrusted to him? 'Oh, God! Please!
Please
!'
she prayed silently, her palms cold and clammy as she clenched them at
her sides.

'I was not referring to myself,' Alex replied in a totally
undisturbed manner, but his eyes glittered with that peculiar,
alertness she had noticed so often before. 'I admit I would give
anything for that to be so,' he added, 'but Laura's heart belongs
elsewhere, and I must join the ranks of those who admire from afar.'
Laura felt as if her mind was in the grip of a vice which was being
tightened mercilessly as she watched Alex wrap the portrait
meticulously before he turned to face her with a smile which was oddly
reassuring under the circumstances. 'You shall have this portrait,
Laura, as soon as my exhibition closes, and you will naturally receive
an invitation for two to attend the opening tomorrow.' He paused,
smiled again, then picked up the portrait and left with a brief,
'Goodnight.'

A stony
silence followed Alex's departure; a silence which lingered on until
they heard his car going down the drive, and only then did Anton stir.

'If it's not Alex Muir,' he said in that dangerously quiet
voice she knew so well, 'then who is this man you're supposed to be in
love with?'

'Alex is m-mistaken,' she stammered. 'There's no one.'

'You're lying to me, Laura.'

'No, no!' she denied anxiously, backing away as he
approached her.

'Then who do you want to give that portrait to?'

'No one,' she cried, her temples drumming until it felt as
though she would go mad. 'I don't want to give it to anyone!'

'Dammit, Laura, I demand to know the truth!' Anton
thundered at her, his face distorted with the fury that raged through
him as he lunged at her.

'No, no, stay away from me!' she begged desperately,
stumbling in her effort to escape him, but steely fingers snaked about
her arm, and she was dragged up against him until his eyes, like blue
flames, burned down into hers with a probing intensity which frightened
her.

'Tell me!' he demanded through his teeth. 'Who is this
man?'

'I can't tell you,' she cried almost hysterically, her
eyes wide and dark in her ashen face. 'Please… I can't.'

A terrible look came into his eyes, and fear such as she
had never known before shook through her when he said gratingly, 'So
you admit that there
is
someone.'

'No!' she screamed hoarsely, then something seemed to snap
in her mind, and, with an unexpected burst of strength which she had
not known she possessed, she broke free of him and fled, shouting,
'Leave me alone, I can't stand much more of this!'

'Laura, come back here!' he commanded sharply, but she had
already darted through the front door and out into the dark, rainy
night as if the devil himself was after her.

She was soaked to the skin in seconds, and chilled to the
marrow, but she paused only once in the blind urgency of her flight to
sum up the situation. She had a choice; the treacherous mountain ahead
of her. She heard his harsh, commanding voice call out to her, and
chose the mountain like a frightened animal.

'Oh, God, let me die!' she begged in an anguished voice.
'Just let me die!'

She was stumbling over rocks and protruding roots,
frantically following the steep path for what seemed an eternity until
she found her way barricaded by a wire fence. A few feet below her she
could hear Anton approaching. He shouted a warning, but she was deaf to
everything except the mad desire to escape the humiliation of having to
face him with the truth.

The barbed wire ripped at her hands when she climbed over
it into the prohibited area and, with her breath rasping painfully in
her throat, she continued her flight, only vaguely aware that the
ground had levelled out beneath her feet.

'Wait!' a voice warned urgently after she had barely gone
a few paces. 'Don't go any further!'