Beware of the Beast (4 page)

"Don't you mean you don't want it to be overheard?"
she burst out hotly, and his mouth turned down at the
corners.

"My dear Charlotte, if you want to discuss your father's
addictions out here, that's perfectly all right by me."

Charlotte glanced round apprehensively. Although his
voice was deep, it was very clear and succinct, and he had spoken in just a slightly raised tone deliberately.

"Oh, come inside," she exclaimed angrily, and brushed past
him into the lounge.

He followed rather more slowly, looking about him with
evident interest, and unable to prevent herself, she said:
"Assessing your property? I believe you'll get quite a good
price for it these
days !"

Alex closed the
french
doors and leant back against them,
"You've decided to sell, then?"

"
I’ve
decided? Don't you mean you have?"

"No." Alex shook his head. "This house is yours, as is the
company. They're of no value to me."

Charlotte stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I say.
What possible use would I have for
another house in London? But I would suggest you sold the comp
any. You could always invest the money. I believe Faulkn
er shares are quite viable."

''What do you mean? What are you talking about?"
Charlotte could feel panic rising inside her again. "Every
thing's yours, you know it is!"

"No. Everything's yours. Only
you
are mine."

Charlotte's gulping laugh was hysterical. "You can't be
serious!"

He
straightened,
his features hardening.
"
I
trust we will
not have to go through all that. I understand your solicitor made the position perfectly clear to you yesterday."

"Perfectly clear?
Perfectly clear?"
Charlotte gulped again.
"I won't marry you! I - I don't know you! And - and
besides, I wouldn't marry the man who - who drove my father
to kill himself!"

"
Ahl
" He thrust his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
"So you've found out."

"What do you mean? Found out?"

"That your father's death was no accident, of course."

Charlotte gasped, "You mean - you mean you can stand
there and tell me coolly that my father committed suicide,
knowing that you were directly responsible
- "

"I was not directly responsible," he interrupted coldly. "Was your father a machine?
An automaton, controlled by
my manipulations?
No!
He was not. He was a free and
thinking individual. Gambling was second nature to him
- "

"No I"

" -
and the stakes were never too high for him I Good God,
this isn't the first time he's gambled his soul away!"

"What do you mean?"
        

"Never mind."
He breathed deeply. "So - as I say, he
chose to play. He knew the rules, as well as anybody else."-,

"Oh, that's very easy for you to say, isn't it?" Charlotte^
stormed
,
 
her
breasts heaving. "Do all murderers excuse
themselves so easily?"

Alex's eyes, which she had thought to be dark brown, were now almost black, and shaded by thick black
lashes
guarded
his expression. "I am not a murderer," he stated quietly. "I!
did
not choose the stakes."

"What do you mean?"
        

"I mean that like all addicts, your father needed one more,
game - one more chance to win. He had nothing left, so - he
\
chose you I"

"I don't believe you."

"I don't expect you to. Nevertheless, as you get to know
me better, you will learn that I do not tell lies. Nor do I
make rash statements which I cannot sustain. You belong
to me, Charlotte, whether you like it or not, and you will
marry me."

"Why?
Why me?"
Charlotte's forehead and palms were
damp, and she could feel the trickle of sweat at the back of her
neck. "Am I so desirable? Or are you one of those men who
prefer
young
girls?"

If she had thought to arouse his anger, she was disappointed. A faint sardonic smile crossed his lips, and belatedly she
recalled what Mr. Falstaff ad said about crossing swords with
this man.

"I have no preference," he said then, surveying her in a
way which deepened her unease. "So long as you were not too repulsive and were capable of bearing a child, I had no objections."

Charlotte gasped, "You mean - you would be prepared
to
make love to any woman, just to get a son?"

"Oh, no, not any woman.
You seemed eminently suitable.
But I would hardly call the act we are to perform making
love!"

Charlotte stepped back from his cold cynicism. “But -
there must be dozens of women who - who would jump at
the chance..."

"You flatter me." But he did not sound gratified. "How
ever, the women who might, as you say, jump at the chance,
are not the kind of women I would choose to be the mother
of my son."

"How do you know what kind of woman I am?"

He shrugged. "The very fact that you are
charing
at your
fate reveals a certain independence of character. I like
that."

Charlotte sniffed resentfully. "So - if I'd thrown myself
into your arms, you'd have changed your mind?"

"Such a hypothetical question requires no answer. We're
wasting time. Are there any questions you wish to ask?"

"I-I-"

Charlotte was still staring at him desperately when Laura knocked at the open door. Alex glanced round, saw the wo
man standing there, and indicated that she should place the tray on a low table near the couch,

"Is there anything else, Charley?" Laura looked anxiously
towards the girl, who hardly seemed aware of her presence.
Charlotte heard the words as if from a distance, and swung about,

"I'm sorry, Laura. No, no. That's fine, thank you."

"What time would you like lunch?" Laura persisted,
obviously reluctant to leave them, but Alex intervened.

"Miss Mortimer will not be in for lunch," he stated firmly.

Laura's eyes widened in dismay.
"Not in? After I made this good food? Is that right, Charley?"

Charlotte shook her head, trying to shake away the dazed
feeling of unreality which had enveloped her with increasing
speed since Alex Faulkner's arrival.
"I - what?
I don't know,
Laura. Am I lunching out?" She turned to stare at Alex.

"Yes. We'll eat at my apartment," he replied, ignoring
Laura's exclamation of protest. "Oh - and by the way." He g
lanced at Charlotte and then transferred his attention to the
daily. "Miss Mortimer is getting married in a few days. She
may wish you to stay on here, if she decides not to sell this
house. Otherwise, she'll let you know."

"What? What's this?" Laura stared disbelievingly at the
girl she had known for five years. "Is this true, Charley?
You getting married?
Why didn't you tell me?"

Charlotte swallowed convulsively. "It's not as simple as
that, Laura." She cast a furious glance in Alex's direction.
"Nothing's settled yet. Nothing's arranged."

"On the contrary, everything's arranged," returned Alex
smoothly. "Your -
er
- your employer is a little - bemused by her good fortune, that's all."

"Why, you
- "
Charlotte bit back an epithet as realization
of what a denial would mean struck her. This was really happening, he really expected her to go through with it. The moment of decision had come.

Laura waited for Charlotte to go on, but when she didn't,
she said imploringly: "Charley, I don't understand all this.
You never said a word to me." She looked Alex up and down.
"I never seen this man before, and I don't think you did,
too."

Charlotte felt as if she was nearing the end of her tether,
and it was almost a relief to hear Alex say: "We've been -
corresponding with one another. You know - pen-friends,
that sort of thing. Miss Mortimer's father knew all about it.
He - he would approve."

Charlotte clenched her fists and turned away, unable to
meet Laura's accusing stare. Patently, she didn't believe Alex,
but equally she had no proof to the contrary. Besides, sooner
or later she would have to believe it. It would be an indis
putable fact.

She heard Alex dismissing the West Indian woman, and
then he gestured to the coffee. "I like mine black, with sugar,
two spoons," he directed her coolly. "You might as well
begin to learn your wifely duties here and now."

Charlotte sank down wearily on to the couch. "You really
expect me to go through with it, don't you?"

"I
know
you will," he said, seating himself in the armchair opposite, legs apart,
hands
hanging loosely between. He had
nice
hands,
she noticed inconsequently, long-fingered brown
hands, rings on each of his little fingers. One was a kind of
signet ring, gold, inset with a ruby; the other was filigree silver, thick and broad, a useful weapon in a fist fight.

"So," he said, deliberately intercepting her gaze. "Let
us have the coffee, then perhaps over lunch you'll think of
things you need to know."

Charlotte drank her coffee without tasting it. When she
got to her feet, he rose also, and she looked at him apprehensively. "I - I need to change," she told him shortly.

"Very well.
I'll- wait here." He lounged into his chair
again, but his eyes were watchful. "Don't be long."

Charlotte made no reply, her lips clenched mutinously as she left the room, slamming the door behind her. In the hall,
she breathed deeply. She desperately wanted to escape, to run
away from the situation that was developing without her volition. What would he do if she disappeared? Employ detectives to find her, without doubt. Where in the world
would she be safe from a man like him? There was no answer
to that.

Laura put her head round the kitchen door. She had
obviously heard the slamming of the door and when she saw
Charlotte she left the kitchen and came purposefully towards
her. "What is all this?" she hissed impatiently. "What is that
man doing here? I don't believe he knew your father."

"Oh, he did, believe me," Charlotte assured her wearily,
realizing that she could not confide even in Laura. If she had
to go through with this, no one must know at what cost.
She could not bear sympathy on top of everything else. Some
how, she would do it, though
be
should not find it the easy path he imagined. And afterwards she would take him for
every penny she could squeeze out of him!

"And you're thinking of marrying him?" exclaimed Laura,
in dismay.

"Yes." Charlotte's tone was flat, but Laura didn't notice.

"And what about me?" she demanded. "
You selling
this
house?"

Charlotte shook her head. "No. No. I don't know. I don't think so." She sighed. "Laura, you don't have to worry,
whatever happens. I'll see you're all right.
You and Jess and
Billy.
I - well, I just may keep this house on. I mean, you
never know when a house can come in handy. You could be
sort of - caretaker, if you like. I'd pay you, of course."

Laura folded her arms and shook her head. "There's more
to this than meets the eye, Charley, and you know it. I wasn't
picked off the banana tree yesterday. I
ain't
that green!"